‘What about Prendergast and his raging temper?’ I said.
‘Not the same thing,’ said Bertram shaking his head. ‘Lovelock showed no signs of violence on his person. Whoever did this not only knew what they were doing but had planned it well.’ He shook his head. ‘I do not like this. Could it be an assassin from another country?’
‘I don’t think Fitzroy would have asked you to investigate if he thought there was an assassin involved,’ I said.
‘He’s asked us to keep someone out of harm’s way before,’ said Bertram. ‘Away from such a risk.’
‘And we failed,’ I said bluntly. ‘So he is unlikely to compound his mistake by asking us again. He certainly wouldn’t put us at risk by asking us to pursue an assassin.’
‘He wouldn’t ask you,’ said Bertram. ‘I agree with that.’
‘That is the one thing that has been bothering me,’ I said.
‘Only one?’ said Bertram. ‘I am bothered by the lack of tea, the lack of cake, the lack of moral fibre displayed by all here today, and the very real problem that I may be making such an awful impression on your family that they will forbid our marriage.’
‘You are being silly,’ I said. ‘But you are right, we should order some more tea. This is thirsty work.’ I stood up. ‘We should also try and find Richenda and check that she has not got herself into difficulty.’
Bertram rose and pulled out my chair. ‘So, what is the one thing that bothers you?’
‘It is two really,’ I said, standing and brushing stale macaroon crumbs from my skirt. ‘Firstly, I do not believe I have ever heard Fitzroy so disturbed by a situation. It is hard to put my finger on it exactly, but he sounded…’
‘Desperate,’ said Bertram.
‘Yes. If Lovelock had not been so old I might think Fitzroy was attempting to conceal a mistaken action of his own.’
‘If Prendergast is too young to have crossed paths with Lovelock in his prime, we can be certain Fitzroy did not.’
‘Too many ifs,’ I said. ‘But I agree with the principle.’
‘And the second thing,’ said Bertram escorting me to the door.
‘Ah, that. Well, as you said, murder is a desperate act. For someone to be prepared to kill an old man over something that happened a long time ago…’
‘It must have been something very bad,’ said Bertram.
‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘No, what I was thinking was that the man who did this, who planned it so carefully and carried out this execution in cold blood, must be very, very afraid. Which makes him profoundly dangerous. He has killed on a rumour. What else might he be prepared to do in order to go free?’
‘I had to go and fall in love with an intelligent woman,’ said Bertram. ‘If only you had been content with embroidery and flower-arranging as occupations.’
I gave him a genuine smile. ‘You should be glad. If I had been, not only would you have tired of my company within a year, but you would have had no one to help you in these endeavours.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Bertram glumly. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on these endeavours.’
Chapter Thirteen
Richenda Resurfaces Resplendently
We had taken no more than a few steps towards our goal of tea and sustenance, when Richenda bowled towards us with all the eagerness of a freight train. ‘I have been waiting for you forever,’ she said. ‘I have much to tell you.’
Bertram groaned and said something under his breath. I could not be sure, but I think it was ‘tea’, said in tone of a man who sees a desert opening up before him.
‘We could discuss this in the coffee lounge,’ I suggested.
‘I do not believe you will want people to overhear what I have to tell you,’ said Richenda, looking rather smug. ‘I have struck up an acquaintance with Gilbert Parry. He is the factotum chappie around here. He opened up a little room for me after - well, you should come and see.’ Richenda turned and trotted off at a smart pace.
‘We could make a dash for the coffee lounge,’ whispered Bertram in my ear.
‘She might have turned up some important information,’ I said. ‘Richenda is a lot brighter than most people think.’
‘I suppose she would only track us down,’ said Bertram. ‘Come on then. Where did she go?’
I looked up to see Richenda disappearing down the end of the corridor and around to the right. ‘We should get a map of this building,’ I said to Bertram. ‘We have no real understanding of the places of ingress and express.’ We followed Richenda, Bertram’s head lowered like a man contemplating his trip to the noose.
‘I was hoping it would not come to that,’ he said gloomily. ‘We will, very shortly, have to ask people who they saw, when and where. We’ll have to measure how long it takes to run from A to B and then quantify it by age. Or how stealthy we think the killer was - if there was one. Then we’ll have to compare all the clocks and see which one is out by three minutes.’
‘I do think, at the very least, we will have to re-interview the suspects,’ I said.
‘That alone will be jolly unpleasant,’ said Bertram. ‘They were all pretty clear they didn’t enjoy it the first time and us asking them to do it all again is going to be the rancid cherry on the top of their melting ice cream.’
I let this extraordinary statement bypass me. ‘I agree it would be useful to know if anyone left the smoking room, and when. I suppose a doctor will be called eventually and he may be able to say when Lovelock died. But what makes you think we should check the clocks?’
‘Tedious crime novels I have read,’ said Bertram. ‘The ones that all depend on noticing some tiny detail, like a misplayed card at bridge, or a cuckoo clock that goes backwards.’
I squeezed his arm. ‘But this is real life,’ I said. ‘We have always found who is at fault by understanding why they did what they did. I do not see why this occasion would be any different.’
‘I expect Fitzroy has different rules,’ said Bertram.
‘Probably, but neither of us are him.’
‘Do you mind that?’
‘What, not being Fitzroy?’ I said. ‘I am surprised and rather shocked you would think me capable of being so amoral.’
‘I meant my not being Fitzroy.’
‘I suppose we might have got an answer more quickly,’ I said, ‘and not made tedious mistakes like letting our suspects chat together before, and after, the interviews. But he does have vastly more experience in these matters than either of us.’
‘Sorry not to be more useful to you,’ said Bertram.
I looked up at him, surprised by the bitter tone. ‘Are we at odds again?’ I enquired. ‘I thought we had decided to put aside our differences until after this day’s event was concluded.’
Bertram grunted.
‘Moreover,’ I said. ‘I thought we had agreed that whatever differences lay between us, we still were determined to spend the duration of our lives together?’
‘That is what you say,’ said Bertram. ‘But you do not have a spotless reputation for telling the truth, do you, Euphemia?’
I let go of his arm and stopped in my tracks. Bertram carried on. The corridor ended in a discreet carpeted staircase. I gazed up, the stairs wrapped round and round, landing upon landing, spiralling up a good four or five floors. To say we had underestimated the size of this establishment was a masterly understatement. However, Bertram did not falter. He did not offer me his arm again but continued on. ‘Look, stairs. Richenda must have got them to take her tea upstairs,’ he said as if nothing was wrong.
He began to ascend. I stood there watching him. He did not turn around, so I had little choice, but to follow. I could not think of anything to say. He must be referring to my true status as a lady rather than a servant. It came back to me now that he had made a previous unpleasant comment on my fainting episode, referring to how previously I had never fainted. Did he think I had feigned my faint to get him out of the fight with Prendergast? I thought I had wounded his pride -
that The Bishop had been right and he was upset because he could now no longer consider himself as my white knight coming to rescue me from servitude. No, Bertram was hurt that since I had first made his acquaintance, I had lied to him about who I was. As we had grown closer in friendship and eventually fallen in love I had still kept the truth from him. For all the time I had known Bertram, I had lied - until today, when I had no option. He felt distrusted and deceived. This was a much more serious state of affairs that a disagreement over class status. This could shatter the very heart of our relationship.
‘Are you coming?’ Bertram called over his shoulder.
When I reached the landing one door was open, so I went in. I found myself in what appeared to be a bedroom. Richenda had a tea table set before a nice little hearth that had a small fire burning in it. The room displayed a masculine style with rich red walls, dark wooden seats, a wardrobe, a tallboy and one of those stands that is called an immobile valet or something similar. It is designed to hold all the accoutrements of male attire in a manner designed to facilitate the easy dressing or undressing of a gentleman who may not have his valet with him. I wondered if Bertram would acquire one for himself now Rory had left his employ - and if, the way that things were going, I would ever know.
Richenda had gathered four seats round a table on which were placed the usual tea things, plus yet another tower of tiny sandwiches and cakes. Honestly, I could not but think it would be quicker for the kitchen to cave to pressure and produce a good meal for us all rather than continue to cut up these tiny morsels. Richenda refilled her own cup, and I noticed another used cup on the table. Presumably this had been used by Parry whom she had befriended. I sat down and gratefully took a cup of tea from her.
‘So,’ said Richenda, ‘Mr Parry was kind enough to explain the key system to me.’
‘Why, is this a bedroom?’ said Bertram, glancing around.
‘Country members have the option of staying at the club overnight. Or indeed, as Mr Parry put it to me, members who have enjoyed themselves not too wisely, but too well, and do not want to greet their spouse in their current state…’
‘You mean sleep it off here?’ said Bertram.
Richenda nodded. ‘They offer a valet service for the single gentleman staying. On the upper floors they have suites for couples where both maids and valets are available. However, as one would expect, there is no childcare to be had.’ She looked across at me. ‘The Bishop must have got special dispensation to bring your brother here today.’
‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘Or perhaps with it being Ladies’ Day, Mr Parry and the club committee felt that letting children in was nothing compared to letting in the fairer sex.’
‘It is not a very female-friendly place,’ said Richenda. ‘If one stays as part of a couple you have to enter through a separate door. They do serve breakfast in the room, but the woman may not descend except to leave! How archaic is that?’
‘Gentlemen’s Clubs are essentially for gentlemen,’ said Bertram. ‘ The clue is in the name.’
Richenda laughed heartily at his response.
‘Keys?’ I said. ‘The key was in Lovelock’s pocket. It was assumed he had locked himself in. One of the porters let us in with the master key.’
‘Yes, we should have thought more about that,’ said Bertram. ‘How many master keys are there?’
‘Only one,’ said Richenda. ‘And it is kept on the board behind the desk at reception. This desk is never left unmanned as all the keys are openly on display. If one of the porters needs to answer a call of nature, he must ask the doorman to either find another porter or watch the desk himself. In which case members are forced to open the main door themselves. They do not like this at all, but Mr Parry is most strict. A porter would be instantly dismissed if he left the desk unattended at any point.’
‘And if one did, he would not readily admit to it,’ I said.
‘True,’ said Richenda, ‘But the training here is regarded as something special, according to Mr Parry. Porters can go from here to work at some significant establishments, and the club’s own standards for employment are high. I think it unlikely that a porter had neglected his duty.’
‘So, the old man did kill himself,’ said Bertram. He sat back in his seat. ‘He’s put us all to a great deal of trouble, but at least it is all over. We can shut up shop and go home.’
‘I do not think so,’ said Richenda. ‘I was dubious about the keys myself, and as part of my investigation…’
We all paused a moment as I swallowed some tea down the wrong way.
‘As I was saying, as part of my investigation I asked Mr Parry to bring me the key Mr Lovelock had used.’ Then, like a magician, she produced the key from somewhere within the folds of her skirt. She passed it to Bertram. ‘Notice anything?’ she said.
Bertram turned it over in his hands. ‘Metal. Medium size. Has markings for four tumblers. I suppose it would be possible to pick the lock, if you knew how to do that sort of thing, although if anybody had done so to gain entry to the room, how would they have locked it again afterwards? Any chance the key fits more than one room? If there’s a master key, then all the locks have to be similar.’
‘I didn’t think of that myself, but I was told there are master keys and grand master keys, to help with this. The master key that was used to open Mr Lovelock’s room only works on six other rooms on the ground floor.’
‘What about skeleton keys?’ said Bertram.
‘Mr Parry thinks it unlikely that any of the members are liable to be the sort who would have one. To go back a point to your idea that someone might have picked the lock. Mr Lovelock’s room was in full sight of a corridor that has other passages and doors leading off it that are in frequent use.’
‘I suppose if the matter were not urgent one might attempt to find a time of day when the corridor was in less frequent use, such as luncheon,’ I said.
‘But the man was always brought soup,’ objected Bertram. ‘Whoever did it would have a tight window. Oh, Lord, at this rate we will be checking clocks after all.’
‘There is a much easier way,’ said Richenda. ‘I noticed it myself the first time I handled the key.’
Bertram shrugged and passed it to me. Immediately I felt a substance on the metal. I rubbed two of my fingers together. ‘Is it greased?’ I said.
‘Close,’ said Richenda. ‘Sniff your fingers.’
‘We don’t have time for parlour tricks,’ said Bertram, but I did as I was told.
‘Good heavens,’ I said. ‘Rose and lavender. It’s soap.’
Richenda nodded eagerly. Someone obtained the key - it would only take a moment - and made an impression of it. It would be easy enough to take the impression and slip it back into your pocket without anyone’s seeing. It’s a shame McLeod isn’t here. He would have thought of it, what with that Deacon Brodie fellow.’
‘Is he a member?’ asked Bertram.
‘No,’ I said. ‘He was a respectable historical figure from Scotland - a carpenter, I think - who made casts of his customers’ keys and returned to rob them.’
‘Has he been around here?’ said Bertram, clearly not following.
‘Oh Bertram, he’s been dead for centuries!’ said Richenda.
‘What matters,’ I said, ‘ is you have found a way for someone to copy the key without being suspected. Well done, Richenda. That is an important point and lends credence to the idea Lovelock was murdered.’
‘Oh, I have more,’ said Richenda with pride. ‘There are pictures of all the members over the years displayed on all the floors. I thought if I came down and had a look at who you suspected and,’ she swallowed, ‘had a look-in on the body, I could see if there were photographs of Lovelock with anyone in particular.’
‘Just because they were members of the club at the same time -’ began Bertram, but Richenda cut him off.
‘They do have pictures like that,’ she said. ‘But there are also group pictures of men from outside the establishmen
t - you know, things like football clubs, rowing teams, even expedition groups.’
‘So, you might be able to find one showing Lovelock with people he used to know well. We think that whatever led to his murder is based on something that happened a long time ago,’ I said.
‘That helps a lot,’ said Richenda. ‘I could start with the really old daguerreotypes and work forward.’
‘Yes,’ I said eagerly, ‘that would limit your search substantially, but you would still need to view the body.’
‘Unless I got Parry to point him out in a photograph,’ said Richenda, clapping her hands with delight.
‘I do not think Hans would be happy with you associating so much with this fellow,’ said Bertram. ‘I mean, having tea in a bedroom, alone, with a Club Steward!’
‘Oh,’ said Richenda laughing. ‘That wasn’t Parry. He came in and talked to us, but he would never have sat down to take tea, even if I had asked him. He seems as much a stickler for the rules as Stone.’
‘Then who…,’ I began.
‘It is no good,’ said Richenda, ‘I cannot wait any longer. Here is my pièce de résistance.’
We were both so shocked by what she produced from behind her chair that neither of us even noticed that, for once, Richenda had correctly pronounced her French.
Chapter Fourteen
The Bishop Gives a History Lesson
Bertram and I remained frozen in place as Richenda held the briefcase out in front of her. ‘This is it. This is Lovelock’s briefcase.’
Then Bertram shot up out of his seat and snatched it from her. He scrabbled at the locks.
‘It’s empty,’ said Richenda, ‘I already looked.’
Bertram threw open the top of the case and rummaged around inside it. He found nothing. This annoyed him so much I believe he would have thrown the item down on the table, but for the tea things. Instead he lobbed it towards the fireplace. Fortunately, it fell short. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘There is nothing in it.’
I went to retrieve the case.
‘I did tell you,’ said Richenda. ‘Although there may currently be nothing in it, that does not preclude the possibility that there was something in it when it was taken, and removed before the briefcase was discarded.’
A Death at a Gentleman's Club Page 11
