by Carola Dunn
Daisy broke the silence. “Do you think a burglar would try a locked cellar before ransacking the house? It doesn’t sound likely to me. If he’d collected the loot first—”
“We would have noticed stuff missing,” said Willie, “not that any of us has anything of real value.”
“There’s Vera’s grandmother’s pearls.”
“But I wear them practically every evening,” Vera pointed out. “They say pearls lose their lustre if they’re not worn. And Isabel’s silver.”
“It’s all present and correct. Besides polishing twice since we moved in, I’ve been checking it now and then to make sure none of it has wandered off with Mrs. Hedger. So far so good. She has her faults, but dishonesty doesn’t seem to be one of them.”
“And she hasn’t got a key to the cellar?” Daisy checked.
“She said Mrs. Gray never gave her one. Her duties didn’t include dusting or sweeping down there. Never set foot in it, she said, and she wouldn’t have if asked, being TT.”
“I never realised taking the pledge included refusing to dust bottles!” The others laughed, halfheartedly. Daisy went on, “It certainly sounds as if it must have happened before you moved in. How long was the house empty, do you know?”
Isabel frowned. “I’m not sure. Mrs. Hedger went on coming in to dust, so I couldn’t tell by that. Just a few days, I think. As we bought it furnished, moving wasn’t a major upheaval for either Mrs. Gray or us. Once Willie had everything sorted out with the solicitor, the house agent, Mr. Vaughn, told us we could move in anytime after the first.”
“You dealt with the lawyer, Willie?”
“Most of the business. We all had to sign the papers, of course. But I learnt a bit of law in my last job, some of it relating to conveyancing.”
“I hope he treated you professional to professional.”
“He wasn’t too bad.”
“What about Vaughn? Was he properly respectful of your eminence?”
“I had very little to do with him,” said Willie, tight-lipped. Daisy had a feeling she had wanted to say, “as little as possible.”
Isabel said, “Not my cup of tea but he was all right. A bit too polite, if anything; smarmy, especially towards Mrs. Gray.”
“Well, presumably she was paying him a commission,” Daisy pointed out. “And he hoped to sell you a house. I expect it’s a job that calls for a bit of smarm.”
Isabel and Vera laughed, then Vera said guiltily, “We shouldn’t be laughing. What if the police arrived and heard us?”
“I wish they’d hurry,” said Willie.
* * *
Meanwhile, as Alec hurried up Orchard Road and crossed Station Road to the telephone box, he was in two minds as to whether to ring the Beaconsfield police, probably a sergeant and a couple of bobbies, or county HQ. Also, since sooner or later he’d have to reveal his credentials, should he do so at once, on the telephone, or wait until he spoke in person to a detective?
It wouldn’t make much difference in the end. Some local coppers were happy to have help from Scotland Yard, official or unofficial. Some bitterly resented the implication that they couldn’t cope on their own. Might as well tell them right away.
He’d better not disgruntle the local bobby by going over his head, he decided. He asked the operator for the Beaconsfield police station.
“Inspector Neal’s on holiday, sir. Sergeant Harris is in charge. He’ll be at home, this time of day.”
“This is urgent. If he’s on duty, or even if he’s off, come to that, I don’t care where he is.”
“Yes, sir.”
A woman answered the phone. Alec asked for Sergeant Harris.
“He’s just sat down to his dinner,” she said crossly.
“I’m afraid it’s urgent, madam.”
The next sound that came to Alec’s ear was a repressed belch. His own stomach rumbled sympathetically and he thought with longing of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.
“Now then,” Harris grumbled, “what’s so urgent a man can’t be let to eat his dinner in peace?”
“A body, Sergeant.”
The ensuing pause somehow conveyed disbelief rather than shock. After a few seconds the voice came laden with suspicion. “And who might this be as I’m speaking to?”
“My name is Fletcher, Alec Fletcher. As it happens, I’m a … an officer with the Metropolitan Police.” No need to announce his rank nor to mention Scotland Yard. “Let me make it clear: I’m not on duty. My wife and I are visiting friends. It’s pure chance that it was I who discovered the deceased.”
“Pure chance, was it, sir? Just where exactly was you when pure chance led you to this dead man?”
“Woman.” Alec was beginning to feel as if he’d swapped rôles with Daisy. She had more than once complained of scepticism on the part of authorities when she dutifully reported having happened upon a body.
“Ho, a woman, eh? And I s’pose you’re going to tell me you’ve never seen her before in your life.”
“I think it extremely unlikely that I’ve ever seen her before, far less made her acquaintance. But in the circumstances, it’s impossible to make a positive statement either way. Perhaps you’d better come and see for yourself.”
“I’ll do that, sir, and you just stay put till I get there, if you please.”
“That wouldn’t be much use to you, Sergeant. I’m in a telephone box on Station Road.”
Heavy breathing. “And where, sir,” said Harris, “if so be you don’t mind me asking, did you leave the corpse?”
“Where I found it. In the wine cellar at Cherry Tree House—no, just plain Cherry Trees. Orchard Road.”
“Cherry Trees. New people. Three old maids, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think they’d appreciate that description. I’m going back to the house now. I’ll see you there shortly.”
Striding back up Orchard Road, he hoped the foul stink had cleared from the house. It would inevitably return when Sergeant Harris opened the cellar door, but with all the room doors in the house closed, and side and front doors left open, the worst of its impact should be avoided. Alec was quite looking forward to the moment when the stench hit the nostrils of the obnoxious sergeant.
Still, as Alec would have been quick to point out to Daisy, the man was just doing his job. And he’d been called out in the middle of his Sunday dinner, not a bad excuse for grumpiness.
A whiff of rotting flesh reached Alec when he was halfway up the garden path. Emanating from the open front door, it was unpleasant but bearable. No doubt it was worse in the house still. He didn’t want to ask the women to open the kitchen door.
He stopped and studied the house. The kitchen was on the northwest corner. He walked over to the small, wide-open window framed by blue gingham curtains.
The odour coming from it was mostly roast beef. His stomach rumbled again.
Voices cut off as he tapped on the glass. He heard a clink of china, as if someone had set down a cup on a saucer with a shaky hand.
“Hello?”
“Alec?” Daisy came to the window and peered out, holding back the curtain. “You gave us a shock! Aren’t you coming in?”
“I’ll wait in front for Sergeant Harris and bring him round to the side door. You ladies can stay put in the kitchen with the door closed, for the present.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we all left now, darling? Presumably the sergeant will open the cellar door again, and that foul smell will return to full strength.”
“He’s going to want to talk to you.”
“Of course. Which will mean opening the kitchen door to the stink, unless we decamp to the Saracen. He can talk to us there. Here, we’d be gagging and choking.”
“It’s a point. You’d better hurry, he should be here any minute. Take the car and go round by Station Road, and with a bit of luck you’ll miss him. He won’t be happy, but I’ll make your excuses.”
“Unless he has the most appalling case of catarrh, he’ll be as happy
to get out of here as we will.” She turned away. “Come along, girls, we’re hopping it.”
FIVE
“Not the bar, this time,” said Willie as Daisy parked the Austin Twelve in the street outside the Saracen’s Head.
“No,” Daisy agreed. She sniffed. “For one thing, I think we still smell a bit—gamey’s the word. I hope there’s no one in the ladies’ parlour.”
“They’d soon leave,” Isabel said dryly, getting out of the back.
“I wish we’d had time to wash and change,” Vera moaned.
“I could go up to my room and change, but it doesn’t seem fair as you can’t. You could all wash, though.”
“Do let’s!” Willie chimed in as they entered the lobby. “I’d really like a bath but even just scrubbing my face and hands would help. We’ll have to be quick, though. Alec and the local police may turn up any moment with a million questions.”
“Not Alec.” Daisy led the way upstairs. “If they want him on the case, they have to go through a big palaver with the Yard. And the locals won’t be along for a while, I expect. The sergeant will have to report to his superiors right away. They’ll probably send out an inspector from High Wycombe, or even Aylesbury.” Opening the door of her room and ushering the others in, she added, “Listen, I’ll have to ring for hot water. Don’t for pity’s sake say anything about the body in the maid’s hearing.”
Sally arrived slightly out of breath, with her cap on crooked and no apron. “I’ve got the afternoon off,” she said, and her nose twitched. “I was just leaving when I saw you’d rung, Mrs. Fletcher, so I came, ’cause her that’s on duty is answering another bell.”
Daisy smiled at her. “I don’t want to keep you from your time off. Could you have Edward bring up plenty of hot water?”
“Right away, madam.” Peering past Daisy, she added, “Shall I fetch some extra towels and face flannels first?”
“Please do.”
“Thank you, Sally,” called Isabel.
“Hello, Miss Sutcliffe. Anything else you need?” Sally was obviously bursting with curiosity. She would hear the story sooner or later, doubtless in more detail than most people because of her aunt charring at Cherry Trees, but she’d have to wait.
“That’s all just now, thank you.” Daisy closed the door as the maid dashed off. “Phew, I think she smelled a rat!”
“I wish it had been a rat!” Vera exclaimed.
They all stood for a moment looking at each other with remembered horror.
Willie asked, “D’you mind if I open the window, Daisy?”
“Please do. A bit of fresh air might help. Won’t you all sit down? Two chairs and two on the bed.”
“Better not,” said Isabel. “The smell might transfer from our clothes to the bedspread and upholstery.”
“Oh dear, you’re right!”
“That chair’s caned, though.”
“You’d better sit there, Daisy.” Willie lowered the window and perched on the windowsill. “Never mind playing hostess, you’re still convalescent. Am I right in thinking they won’t let us go back to the house today? Even if we want to? Which I, for one, don’t!”
“Nor do I.” Vera leaned against the bedpost. “I just hope all our clothes aren’t impregnated.”
“Alec said the upstairs doors were closed. I’m afraid the police may open them.” Daisy frowned. “I’m not sure whether they’d have to get a search warrant, in the circumstances.”
“Search our rooms?” Isabel was outraged. “Why would they do that?”
“I’m not saying they will, just that they may. Depending.”
“On what?” Willie asked.
“Well, I suppose, on when the victim died. Before or after you moved in.”
In the silence that followed Daisy’s statement, Sally tapped on the door and came in with towels and flannels.
“The hot water’ll be a couple of minutes.” She piled her load on the cane-bottomed chair beside the folding screen that hid the marble washstand. “Will you be all right if I go now? I don’t want to leave you ladies in the lurch.”
Daisy assured her they’d manage without her and offered her a tip.
She refused it. “I wouldn’t’ve done it for anybody else, Mrs. Fletcher, and that’s a fact. I’ll be off now.” She whisked out.
“You’ve got her eating out of your hand,” Isabel commented with a touch of envy. “I wish her aunt were as tractable.”
“She’s a nice girl, and ambitious. She’s saving to take a typing course in London. I’ll give her a good tip when Alec and I leave, to help her on her way. Speaking of which, hadn’t you better book rooms for tonight? You don’t want to go back to the house, even if the police would let you.”
Vera looked anxious. “The Saracen is too expensive for me.”
“We’ll see if we can share a room with two beds and a truckle,” Isabel suggested. “Though if one of us goes down to the reception desk smelling like this, I wouldn’t blame them for refusing us!”
“Daisy has clean clothes she can change into,” Willie reminded them. “Daisy, would you mind—?”
“Of course not. Here’s our hot water.” She opened the door to admit the Boots, struggling with several steaming water-cans. “Thanks, Edward.”
He disappeared behind the screen and the metal cans clinked on the marble. Unlike Sally, he didn’t appear to notice any untoward effluvium. Also unlike the maid, he had no qualms about accepting a generous tip. He went off whistling.
“If I’m to put on clean clothes,” said Daisy, “I think I’ll have a bath. It didn’t seem fair before, but as I’m to tackle the landlord…”
“Do,” said Isabel. “All the more hot water for us.”
Half an hour later, much refreshed, Daisy went down to the foyer. The proprietor himself came in response to the bell. Mr. Whitford was short, round, rubicund, and smiling, like an idealised innkeeper straight out of Dickens. He continued to beam as he affirmed that he had a vacant room that would suit Daisy’s friends down to the ground with the addition of a remarkably comfortable folding cot that the Boots would fetch down from the attic.
“And the names of your friends, madam?” he asked, pencil poised over the register.
“Miss Wilhelmina Chandler. Miss Isabel Sutcliffe. Miss Vera Leighton.”
He looked up, eyebrows raised. “Miss Leighton? That’d be the new teacher?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Summat wrong at the house?”
The truth and nothing but the truth, but not by any means the whole truth: “There’s a nasty smell.”
“Drains. That’s an old house, that is. The last people were always having trouble with the drains. My cousin, he’s a plumber and he knows them drains inside and out, back’ard and for’ard. Here, let me write down his name for the ladies. Not but what May—May Hedger—will tell ’em he’s the one they want.”
“Thank you, I’ll give it to them, but they already have someone … looking into the matter.…”
“Never mind, eh! They’ll end up wanting his help, I don’t doubt. Now, here’s the key to the room, two of ’em’s all I’ve got.”
“I’m sure they’ll manage.”
“And I’ll see the cot’s set up within the hour.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Whitford.”
The landlord leaned across the counter and lowered his voice confidentially. “Truth is, I wouldn’t do it for just anyone, but my daughter’s boy as wasn’t any too keen on learning his letters, he likes going to school since Miss Leighton’s come.” He nodded and winked.
Not at all sure what his manner was intended to convey, Daisy smiled in response and returned upstairs.
Opening the bedroom door, she took a shallow breath as she stepped in, then sniffed. “It’s not half as bad as it was,” she announced.
“I can still smell it,” Vera said unhappily. “I wish I had a change of clothes.”
“I could lend you and Willie frocks, though you’d flound
er in them. You’re both much slimmer than I am and Willie’s shorter.”
“It wouldn’t be fair. Izzy’s too tall to borrow from you.”
“I expect I can persuade Alec to go and pick up some clothes for you when he gets here.”
“We haven’t even got our handbags,” Willie pointed out, “and I have to have my briefcase for work tomorrow.”
“Alec will sort things out. In the meantime, here’s a couple of keys to your own room. They’re setting up a cot, which the landlord swears is remarkably comfortable.”
Isabel looked sceptical. “Let’s hope we won’t have to suffer for too long. Daisy, how long will they keep us out?”
“I really don’t know, but I doubt if it will be longer than you’ll want to stay away.”
“I wonder whether Mrs. Hedger will be willing to clean the cellar? We may have to hire—I don’t know what sort of person or company.” Isabel’s domestic mind had already returned to the practicalities of their situation.
Vera shuddered.
“You’ll find someone, Iz,” said Willie. “In the meantime, as we’re now officially residents, I’m off to take a bath, even if I have to put the same clothes on again afterwards.”
“Will there be time for all of us to have a bath before the police arrive?” Vera asked.
“If not, they’ll just have to wait. Come on. We’ll see you in a bit, Daisy.”
Daisy decided to put her feet up for a few minutes while she pondered the body in the basement. She was certain her three friends, the old and the new, were in no way responsible for the corpse in their cellar. Nonetheless, they were going to find themselves drawn into the police investigation, always an ordeal. Daisy would have to stay in Beaconsfield and do what she could to give them the benefit of her experience.
She rearranged the pillows, kicked off her shoes, leaned back, and promptly fell asleep.
* * *
Harris was not happy. So much was evident as soon as the bulky sergeant stepped through the garden gate, wheeling his bicycle, his podgy face under the helmet creased in a scowl.
Alec wasn’t very happy, either. He had been pacing up and down the path for over thirty minutes. He didn’t see how even an overweight police officer could take half an hour to bicycle three quarters of a mile downhill.
