A Quiet Life in the Country (The Lady Hardcastle Mysteries Book 1)

by T E Kinsey

  ‘No, he never turned up. And now I know why.’

  ‘Perhaps, sir. Did you look for him at all?’

  ‘No, we were to meet in the corridor; I didn’t want to go wandering off in case I missed him.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to look in the library? That’s where he told you he was going.’

  ‘That’s what he told the others, Inspector. I knew where he was going; he was going to the corridor to meet me.’

  ‘I see, sir. Did you see or hear anything else?’

  ‘No, there was the usual hubbub of a party, I saw that servant girl–’

  ‘Rose, sir,’ interrupted the inspector.

  ‘Really?’ I blurted in surprise. ‘Good for her. I’m glad she escaped from the kitchen to see a bit of the party.’

  ‘Lucky girl,’ said Mr Richman unenthusiastically. ‘There were a few others but I was keen to get my meeting over with and get back to work so I didn’t really pay much attention.’

  ‘What was your meeting about, sir?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘Band business, I expect. He didn’t say. Just said he needed to speak to me in private. Probably after a rise if I know Nelson.’

  ‘How long did you wait for him?’

  ‘Again, Inspector, I have no idea. No clocks.’

  ‘Quite so, sir. But you eventually went back to the party and played your “second set”, I believe you call it.’

  Mr Richman smiled. ‘Our second set, yes. Then off for a nightcap and an early night.’

  ‘Early night, sir?’

  ‘We usually turn in about six in the morning, Inspector. We entertain people at night for the most part.’

  ‘Indeed you do, sir, one forgets that others lead such different lives.’

  ‘Were you and Mr Holloway friends?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Friends, my lady?’ said Mr Richman. ‘We got on well, if that’s what you mean. He’d been with the band a few years and we’re a small group. It wouldn’t work if we didn’t get on.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But what I meant was were you close friends, or just colleagues?’

  ‘I’d say we were friends, yes.’

  ‘And did you have anything to do with one another outside your work?’ she persisted.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Mr Richman. ‘We had a drink now and again, maybe met for a meal or two. But we work quite a lot, Lady Hardcastle, we spent a lot of time together.’

  ‘You had no other interests outside your work, then? No shared business interests?’

  ‘I’m sure I have no idea what you’re on about,’ he said, blankly. ‘What manner of business do you imagine we’d have time for?’

  Lady Hardcastle smiled. ‘Forgive me, Mr Richman, my mind wanders sometimes. I was just trying to find out a little more about Mr Holloway.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘He was a thoroughly decent chap, that’s all you really need to know. An excellent musician, a good friend, and a proper gentle man. Not a gentleman as you’d know them, my lady, he came from the same backstreets as the rest of us, but he was a proper gentle man. I shall miss him.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Richman. Forgive me for intruding on your grief.’

  He nodded sadly.

  ‘I’ve been asking everyone to remain at the house until this matter is resolved, sir,’ said the inspector, wrapping up the interview. ‘I trust that won’t be an inconvenience.’

  Mr Richman took a look round the library. ‘The place could do with decorating,’ he said, ‘But I suppose I could slum it for a while.’

  ‘Thank you for your patience, sir. I’ll send for you if I think of anything else I need to ask.’

  Mr Richman stood. ‘Thank you, inspector.’ He left quietly.

  ‘Do you have something on your mind, my lady?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘Just probing, Inspector. I was trying to find out if he and Holloway were up to anything else. Something illicit, perhaps. Did I spoil things for you?’

  ‘Probably not, my lady,’ he said, kindly. ‘It’s not the way I should have chosen to play it, but it was illuminating to see him so rattled when you asked him. Perhaps they were up to something after all.’ He consulted his notebook. ‘Let me see now… whom shall we see next? Ah, yes, Mr Clifford Haddock. Let’s see what happens when we get him on the hook.’

  ‘It’s certainly the plaice for it,’ I said.

  ‘Cod we just get on with it,’ said Lady Hardcastle, wearily.

  ‘I… er… oh, oh, I shall salmon him at once.’ I left in a hurry.

  I found Mr Haddock with Sir Hector in the corridor outside the library, keenly examining what I thought was a rather revolting clock which sat atop an ornate Chinese cabinet.

  ‘Ah, now then, Sir Hector,’ the dealer was saying, ‘this is a lovely piece. To be honest I’d only give you a few bob for the cabinet – reproduction, you see – but this clock is a very handsome piece indeed. Eighteenth century French. I’m sure I could find you a buyer for this one, yes indeed.’

  Sir Hector noticed my approach and rolled his eyes at the dealer’s continuing prattle. He seized the opportunity to interrupt. ‘Yes, m’dear? Is there something we can do for you?’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, Sir Hector,’ I said deferentially. ‘But Inspector Sunderland would like a word with Mr Haddock.’

  ‘Good lord,’ said Haddock. ‘My turn for the Spanish Inquisition, eh?’

  ‘In the dining room, please, sir,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I’d better not keep the Old Bill waiting, eh?’ he said. ‘This way?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’ll take you.’

  He set off in the direction I had come from and I turned to follow, but Sir Hector grabbed my elbow.

  ‘Something fishy about that chap,’ he said. ‘Oh, I say. “Fishy”. Well done, Hector. You heard what he was saying about m’whatnots? Totally the wrong way round. The cabinet’s the genuine article – picked it up in Shanghai in ’92 – and the clock’s a cheap imitation made by a chap from Bournemouth. Either he hasn’t got a clue or he’s trying to cheat a chap, what?’

  ‘I wouldn’t rule either one out at this stage, Sir Hector,’ I said.

  ‘The old detective’s nose twitching, what?’

  ‘Something like that, sir. That and the fact that he’s an oily little tick.’

  He laughed a delighted laugh. ‘Nail on the head, m’dear. Oily tick indeed. You’d better catch him up before he pilfers anything, what?’ He laughed again and waved me on my way.

  I hurried along the corridor and caught up with Haddock just as he was passing the dining room door.

  ‘This way, sir,’ I said, opening the door for him. He doubled back and entered the room.

  ‘Ah, Mr Haddock, I presume,’ said the inspector as I closed the door behind me. ‘I’m Inspector Sunderland and this is Lady Hardcastle.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,’ said Haddock. ‘And a pleasure to meet you again, Lady Hardcastle. We had all too brief a time together last evening. I should have liked to have got more acquainted. Sir Hector tells me you’re a widow. It’s a shame for such a beautiful lady to be all alone.’

  Lady Hardcastle simply nodded a greeting but made no further response.

  ‘Take a seat, please, Mr Haddock,’ said the inspector.

  He did as he was asked.

  ‘Well, then, Inspector,’ he said. ‘How can I help you.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re more than well aware of what happened here last evening,’ said the inspector. ‘So I shan’t bore you by restating the details. As you can no doubt imagine, we’re anxious to try to build a picture of the events surrounding Mr Holloway’s death. I gather you’re a guest of Sir Hector?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, with a smarmy smile. ‘He invited me down to appraise some of his objets d’art. I believe he’s looking to sell a few pieces.’

  ‘And since you were here anyway, you were invited to the engagement party.’

  ‘Yes, that is correct.’

  ‘H
ow did you come to be first introduced to Sir Hector?’

  ‘Through a mutual acquaintance.’

  ‘Who might that be, if you don’t mind my asking?’

  ‘Mr Roland Richman.’

  ‘So you know Mr Richman?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Haddock. ‘We bump into each other from time to time in London. I’m quite a devotee of this new American music so we frequent some of the same nightclubs.’

  ‘I see, sir, I see. And were you at the party all evening?’

  ‘I was, Inspector, yes.’

  ‘Mr Holloway was last seen alive when he left the stage during the band’s break at around ten o’clock. Did you see him leave the ballroom?’

  ‘Not as such. They finished “The Richman Rag” and then they all got down from that little dais they were playing on. I went to have a word with them all to tell them how well they were playing but he wasn’t there. I suppose he must have left the room before I could get to them.’

  ‘I see, sir. Did you notice anyone else missing?’

  ‘It was a crowded party, Inspector. People were coming and going all the time.’

  ‘And did you come and go at all, sir?’

  ‘I… er… I left the room to…’ He looked around the room at Lady Hardcastle and me. ‘To… er… you know…’

  ‘“Use the facilities”, sir?’

  ‘Just that, Inspector.’

  ‘During the break?’

  ‘Yes. It seemed as good a time as any. It meant I’d not miss anything.’

  ‘And did you notice anything out of the ordinary while you were wandering about the house?’

  ‘I didn’t “wander”, Inspector. I went straight to the… er… you know… and came straight back.’

  ‘And you were there the rest of the evening?’

  ‘Yes. Sylvia usually starts the second set with “I Can’t Get Enough of You” and that just gets me hooked for the rest of the night.’

  ‘I see, sir. And can you remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary at all?’

  ‘Not at all, Inspector, no. As I say, it was quite a lively party and what with the wonderful music and the beautiful ladies–’ He leered at Lady Hardcastle again. ‘–I was quite distracted.’

  Inspector Hardcastle finished making his notes. ‘Thank you, sir, you’ve been most helpful. I take it you’re staying at The Grange for a few more days?’

  ‘I’ve been invited till the weekend, yes.’

  ‘Very good, sir. If I need to ask you any further questions, I shall send for you.’

  ‘Right you are, Inspector. So may I go?’

  ‘You may indeed, sir. Thank you again for your time.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ said Haddock, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Inspector Sunderland made a few more notes and then looked up. ‘What did you make of that, my lady?’ he asked.

  ‘Aside from his being an oily tick, you mean?’ she said, disdainfully.

  ‘I called him that a few minutes ago,’ I said with a grin.

  ‘To his face, miss?’ said the inspector.

  ‘No, Inspector, though it shan’t be long before I do. I found him with Sir Hector, talking about some furniture outside the library and Sir Hector buttonholed me as Haddock set off for the library. Apparently Sir Hector isn’t impressed with Haddock’s knowledge of antiques and wondered if he’s a fraud or a swindler.’

  ‘Probably a little of both would be my guess,’ said the inspector. ‘I’ll cable Scotland Yard and see if they have anything on him.’

  ‘And that was when I passed my opinion of Haddock.’

  ‘And what was Sir Hector’s reaction?’ he said.

  ‘He laughed, of course.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose he would. Not the sort of thing he expected a respectable lady’s maid to be saying, I shouldn’t suppose.’

  ‘He’s known me a few months now, Inspector. I think he long since gave up any misconceptions about my respectability.’

  It was the inspector’s turn to laugh. ‘I should imagine he did, miss, yes.’

  Lady Hardcastle had a pensive look about her as she examined the links forming on the Crime Board. ‘Oily and shifty, then. And probably not quite as straight and above board as one might hope,’ she said. ‘And by his own admission he was out of the room during the time we surmise the murder might have been committed.’

  ‘And known to Mr Richman, too,’ said the inspector. ‘That might lead us somewhere. He was lurking about during that time, too.’

  He took a handsome pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at it.

  ‘I imagine this is the sort of place that serves tea at four o’clock,’ he said.

  ‘On the dot,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And if I know Sir Hector, he’ll still call it “Tiffin”.’

  The inspector sighed. ‘It’s another world. And that means that most of the house guests will be occupied.’ He consulted his notes. ‘Let’s see if we can find someone else from the band, then. How about the bass player, Mr Bartholomew Dunn.’

  ‘Why not indeed,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Do the honours, Flo, would you, dear?’

  I got up and went in search of Mr Dunn.

  I found Dunn at the foot of the servants’ staircase chatting up Dora, the housemaid. He was stroking her hair with the side of his index finger and she was giggling coquettishly when I breezed up and said, ‘Afternoon, chaps. How are we all getting along.’

  Dora glared at me. ‘We were getting along just fine, thank you.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. Mr Dunn? Inspector Sunderland would like a word with you in the dining room if you can spare him a few moments.’

  Dora’s look suggested that she had much more entertaining ideas for Dunn’s next few moments and that if I were to fall down dead there and then, she’d not waste even one of those precious moments mourning my parting. Dunn, though, was evidently a more pragmatic man who recognized that a summons from the police, even one expressed with such casual politeness, couldn’t be ignored. He also seemed confident, as he tenderly kissed her cheek, that he would be able to reignite Dora’s passions as soon as he’d finished with this Inspector Sunderland, whoever he turned out to be.

  ‘I’ll find you the instant I’ve finished with him,’ he whispered.

  Dora looked at me again, a smug grin replacing the angry glare.

  ‘You’d better,’ she said, and set off upstairs.

  He watched her go and then turned to look at me. ‘The dining room, you say? Would you be a poppet and show me the way? I’m new round here.’

  ‘New round here, but pretty experienced everywhere else, from the look of things,’ I said. ‘Follow me.’

  He chuckled and I led him through the house to the dining room.

  We found Lady Hardcastle and the inspector deep in conversation, but they stopped abruptly as we entered. After the usual introductions and the usual preamble, there followed the usual series of questions about the events of the evening which elicited the usual, “I didn’t really notice anything. It was a party. Parties are busy places.” It was apparent, though, that Dunn was quite a sociable sort of a chap and Inspector Sunderland decided to exploit this as he moved onto more personal matters.

  ‘Tell me a little more about the band, Mr Dunn. Paint me a picture of the characters.’

  ‘Blimey, really? Well, there’s Rolie, of course, Roland Richman, our beloved leader. He’s a pretty decent musician as it happens, and he’s got very strong ideas about where he wants the band to go. Ambitious, you know? He’s quite a sharp businessman, too, for a musician. We never lack for work and we always seem to get paid. I’ve been in plenty of bands where neither of those were true. Then there was Nelse. Nice chap. Easy going, if a little easily led. Beautiful tone to his playing, too. Trumpets can be a bit brash in the wrong hands, but he had a delicate touch. He could make it cry if he wanted to. We used to have a fiddle player, but there was a falling out and it turned out we didn’t need him anyway – Nelse
covered that side of things beautifully. We missed him in the second set. I suppose we’ll be missing him for always now.’ He lapsed into silence.

  ‘You seem very fond of him,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘I’m fond of them all, my love,’ he said. ‘Skins is quite a lad.’

  ‘Mr Maloney?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘The very same. We work together most closely; the “rhythm section” they call bass and drums. He’s tight. Technically excellent player – I think he trained with one of the big orchestras. But he has a feel for the music, too. He’s a dream to work with. Bright lad. Lots of fun. Always the life and soul. It’s always a laugh when Skins is around.’

  ‘And what about Miss Montgomery?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘Sylvie? Not so sure about her. She’s only been with us a couple of months. I’ve not quite worked her out yet. She seems friendly enough and she sings like an angel. Or like an angel in a brothel… beg pardon ladies. She has this earthy quality to her voice, like… well, you know. Not the sort of pure, trained, precise sound you get from most ladies. She’s got a voice like smoked honey served on warm bread by a naked serving wench while you’re reclining on a velvet couch.’

  ‘Steady on, lad,’ said the inspector, who was blushing again. ‘Ladies present.’

  ‘Pish and fiddlesticks,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Don’t be such a fusspot. I’m just sorry I didn’t pay more attention while she was singing. It sounds like quite an experience.’

  ‘It is, my love, it certainly is. But as for her character… I’m not so sure. I don’t think anyone’s managed to get close to her. She’s quite… hard. I’ve met lads like it, but never girls. The lads have been toughs, you know? Petty villains.’

  ‘Are you saying you think she’s a criminal?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.

  He seemed genuinely taken aback. ‘Blimey no, nothing like that. I was just trying to give you an idea of how she makes me feel. She can take care of herself, that one, that’s for sure. But criminal? Have you seen her?’

  ‘She is rather beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘Exactly. How could someone that looked like that be a criminal? Criminals have a look, don’t they. It’s science. You can tell.’