by Diane Janes
TWENTY-EIGHT
Fran faced a long, slow journey home the next day. She was unlucky at Euston, for having initially gained sole occupancy of a compartment, she was joined before the train pulled out, by a woman who was carrying a large basket on one arm and a fractious baby in the other, while trying, but failing, to keep a small lively boy under her control. Fran did her best to help by attempting to distract the boy, offering games of I Spy and similar pursuits, but the boy was not for being distracted from alternately racing from one side of the compartment to the other, while yelling loudly, or else crawling about the floor, pretending to be a roaring lion. By the time the little party left the train at Rugby, Fran’s nerves felt so frayed that she began to wonder if Mo quite realized what she was letting herself in for.
After this unfortunate episode travellers came and went with considerably less fuss, keeping themselves to themselves and leaving her in peace with her thoughts. As the train approached Birmingham, she found herself considering the fact that just a few weeks earlier, she had been standing at a chilly bus stop, resolving that she must make a new life for herself and now, as if conjured up by a fairy godmother, there was a charming, handsome man, offering her a home and marriage. She wondered what her mother would say, if she announced that she intended to marry again – and to a man that she had scarcely known for more than a couple of weeks. (Well, she had known Michael for at least a year before he proposed and how much good had that done her?) And what would her mother make of an announcement that she intended to live in Devon? That was a big stumbling block, for as the only surviving child, she couldn’t just abandon her mother, and go off to live hundreds of miles away. It was most unlikely that her mother would agree to move down to Devon … No, let’s be honest, it wasn’t just unlikely … her mother would never agree to it. In fact, she would put every possible emotional obstacle in the way.
Fran turned to look out of the window. Now that spring had properly arrived, everything was turning green, though it was mostly a pale, watery green today as the train passed through rain showers interwoven with occasional patches of sunshine. They would be coming into New Street station soon. There would be no meeting with Tom today. No chance to discuss the case.
A vision of Tom was replaced by Eddie. ‘We’re just not that sort of family,’ he had said. A statement with which, on the face of it, she could not disagree. The exception was perhaps their uncle Charles, with his fondness for drink, his womanizing and hints of uncertainty regarding his finances. Well, every family had its black sheep. Charles Edgerton would not have needed to bind and gag his father – he could have walked into the room and suggested going for a stroll in the grounds. But suppose his father had declined? That would have messed up the plan to be sure. And what about the diamond? Where did that fit in?
Out of nowhere she remembered Eddie again, saying that in a novel one of the descendants of Georges Poussin would have married into the family. Dolly did not sound French, but it seemed likely that she had a French maiden name. Suppose her family had brought her to England at a young age and raised her here, while they continued to search for the person who had purloined their most valuable possession?
Miss Billington, on the other hand, spoke French like a native. Moreover, Miss Roche had spoken as if Miss Billington had cause to hate the Edgertons and felt trapped into remaining in their service. Was Billington her real name? She was surely too young to have been Poussin’s daughter, but if his daughter had married an Englishman called Billington … How very useful it would be to have access to her birth certificate.
Her thoughts returned to Dolly. Dolly who would return to Charles Edgerton, because she essentially had no better place to go. The family had rated her a gold-digger, but perhaps in Charles Edgerton, she had picked a gold mine, which was yielding less and less. Dolly would surely have guessed that her husband stood to inherit something on his father’s death and with no love lost between her and the other Edgertons, she might have taken considerable satisfaction in dumping the head of the family over the edge of the cliffs.
Fran had initially pitied Dolly, for she understood only too well the humiliation of discovering that one’s husband had been unfaithful. She herself had been fortunate enough to inherit sufficient money to provide her with a degree of autonomy. (Thank you, Great-Aunt Rachel!) Without her legacy she might have been forced to return home and live with her mother, whereas Dolly was trapped between two fires. On the one hand, she could stay with Charles, whose philandering would no doubt continue in spite of his periods of remorse and the regular turning over of new leaves. On the other, she could lodge with her brother, Albert de La Tour and his wife, perhaps returning to work as a waitress, relying on a pittance in wages and the charity of her family. However, if Dolly had managed to secretly acquire a valuable jewel, it would have enabled her to embark on a new life of financial independence.
Suppose Dolly had stolen the diamond that afternoon? Having taken her father-in-law on his last walk along the cliff path, she would then have been left with the question of where to put the diamond. She could hardly have introduced it into the room she shared with her husband. Even if she had hidden it in her suitcase, the maids would have come across it when packing Charles and Dolly’s things for them, in readiness for their departure. Keeping the diamond on her person or among her things would have been fraught with risk. It would perhaps have entailed a constant need to transfer the stone from one place to another in order to avoid discovery. However, if after pushing poor old Mr Edgerton off the cliff, she had turned back towards the house, walked up on to the higher path and secreted the stone in grotto, she could then have slipped back to retrieve it just before she and Charles left for London. If she had placed it in her handbag, there would have been no reason for her husband to have looked inside it during their journey, and once back at home she no doubt had a suitable hiding place in readiness to keep her newly acquired treasure, until she was able to turn the stone into cash. It was a perfect plan – or would have been, if Imogen had not decided to go treasure hunting on that very same afternoon.
Fran considered the problem from various angles, unconsciously nodding to herself as she did so. Then she sighed. If she had a likely solution to the problem, there remained the seemingly impossible task of proving it.
TWENTY-NINE
‘Eddie? Is that you?’
‘Yes, it is. Fran, what a delightful surprise. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.’
‘No … yes. The thing is that I need to talk to you. It’s about the death of your grandfather and I’d rather talk face-to-face, if that’s all right.’
‘Of course. Anything to spend an hour or two in your company, you know that. Do you want me to drive north within the hour?’
‘No. I’m not in the north. I’m in Torquay. I’m staying at the Palace Hotel.’
‘You truly love to spring a surprise on a chap, I must say. It was only two – no three – days ago that I saw you on to the train in London and now here you are, back in Devon. What on earth are you up to?’
Fran lowered her voice. ‘I believe I’m on the trail of a murderer. That’s why I need to talk with you.’
‘I see.’ Eddie’s voice sounded unusually grave. ‘Well, in that case, I’d better come at once.’
Eddie was as good as his word and must have driven like the wind, for within less than forty minutes, he was walking into the hotel lounge.
‘The thing is,’ Fran said, after outlining her theory, to which Eddie had listened in silence, punctuated only by gasps and occasional disbelieving shakes of his head, ‘that your family has to decide. If this were to lead to an arrest and a trial, then the whole story becomes public and that’s exactly the kind of scandal that you all wanted to avoid. In fact, it’s the whole reason why you called on myself and Mr Dod rather than sharing your concerns with the police in the first place.’
‘What do you think we ought to do?’
‘I think that someone who has
committed a cold-blooded murder needs to be brought to justice. But I don’t always see things in the same way as say Mellie or your mother would.’
Eddie digested this briefly before asking, ‘What is to prevent you from taking this story to the police yourself?’
‘I don’t believe it would do any good. You see, I don’t have any actual proof. The only way I can see of getting that proof would need the full cooperation of your family.’
‘So you need me to intercede on your behalf, is that it?’ Eddie gave a chuckle. ‘I’m not much of a diplomat, you know. It would probably be far better coming from you.’
‘I don’t think so. You can tell them my ideas and they will be able to discuss it openly, between themselves, without an outsider present.’
‘Don’t be an outsider then. Wouldn’t it be much better if we drove back over there now, walked into the drawing room and announced our engagement? Then you could tack all this business about unmasking a murderer on at the end while Jamieson cracked open a few bottles of champagne. It would help them get used to what it will be like, having a lady detective in the family.’
‘Eddie, this really isn’t a joking matter.’
‘Dear thing, I wasn’t entirely joking.’
‘It is far better for you to tell them and for me to stay out of it. Don’t forget that the rest of your family doesn’t even think I’m still detecting – if you must call it that – they think I’ve found the diamond for them and left it at that.’ Fran did not add, though it was certainly in her mind, that they might turn out to be jolly angry on learning that instead of leaving well alone, she had continued to poke around in their family mystery until she had unearthed a solution.
Eddie pondered again for a short while, then said, ‘So you want me to persuade them. That’s it, isn’t it? I have to persuade my family to do the right thing. I’m sort of riding into battle, as your Sir Galahad. Well, I undertake your commission, but in return, I—’
Fran did not let him get any further. ‘I’m not making any bargains or any promises.’
‘Very well then, let right prevail. But there’s one thing I’m not at all clear about. You say that you can only prove this with the help and cooperation of the family. I don’t quite see how any of us can help with that.’
‘What I mean is that we can only catch the killer by setting a trap – and for that I need your family’s help.’
‘A trap, eh? That sounds pretty exciting, I must say. Do I get to hear the details before I go off and do my Sir Galahad bit, or only if my mission succeeds?’
‘You need to hear about it now, because it’s something else that you are going to have to explain, in order that everyone understands what it is they are agreeing to do.’
Eddie listened carefully again, without interruption. When he had digested what she had to say, he rose to his feet and, bowing slightly, lifted her hand from where it had been resting on the arm of the chair and kissed it. ‘Madam,’ he said, adopting a grave, theatrical tone, which much to Fran’s embarrassment caused the heads of some card players at a nearby table to turn, ‘consider your commission accepted.’ Straightening to his full height, he turned to leave, but he had only taken a step before he turned back and said in an entirely different tone, ‘I always knew you’d solve it. What a girl!’
THIRTY
With Roly’s agreement, Fran used the typewriter in the estate office to produce the letter, using cheap, plain white stationery which she had acquired from the post office in Frencombe. Naturally she included no signature or return address.
You did not see her, but Imogen saw you in the woods that day. She saw you pushing the old man along the path and she followed you to the grotto. That’s how she found the diamond. I can see to it that the child doesn’t breathe a word to anyone else, but I would need to be sure of avoiding financial hardship. £500 should do the trick. That’s a lot of money, but I could accept small instalments. Perhaps we should discuss terms? I will be waiting in the grotto at ten o’clock on Thursday evening.
THIRTY-ONE
‘On reflection, perhaps we needn’t have made it so late,’ Fran said. ‘Any time after dark would have worked equally well and it will be dark by nine.’
‘We should have made it midnight,’ said Henrietta. ‘That’s the traditional hour for assignations in all the best novels.’
‘I do hope it doesn’t start to rain,’ said Eddie.
‘It isn’t going to. The barometer is absolutely steady.’ This from Roly.
‘I’m going to wrap up jolly warm,’ Henrietta said. ‘It’s darned chilly out there tonight.’
‘No use complaining about catching a chill now,’ said Eddie. ‘When all’s said and done, you’re the one who insisted on coming.’
‘Your mother will have a conniption fit if she finds out that you’re going with them,’ said Mellie. ‘You had far better stay here, with me.’
‘Mellie, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened at Sunnyside House. You can hardly expect me to skulk about back here at the house and miss it.’
‘I hope you’re not suggesting that I’m skulking?’
‘Of course not, dear, we all know you would be coming too if you weren’t in a delicate condition.’
‘You mustn’t even think of coming,’ Roly put in, giving his wife’s shoulder a reassuring pat, while Fran reflected yet again that making babies was all the fashion in 1930.
‘Never mind about Mother, I’m not too happy about you girls having any part of this. We’re dealing with a dangerous individual here. Someone who has already killed once,’ said Eddie.
‘And happens to be a woman,’ said Henrietta. ‘Besides which, you need us. Fran has to sit inside the grotto and I will be helping to keep watch and listen outside.’
‘Roly and I can do that. In fact, one of us could lie in wait inside and the other could be outside. It only needs one person to have the conversation and the other to be a witness. Even the fact of her turning up is incriminating.’
‘Well, I’m coming with you and that’s that.’ Henrietta was emphatic.
At that moment they were all surprised to hear the distant peal of the front doorbell.
‘Who on earth can that be?’ asked Henrietta.
‘Heaven only knows. We’re not expecting anyone.’
‘Well, whoever it is, we must get rid of them in plenty of time if we’re going to get ourselves into place early enough.’
A tense silence was hanging over the drawing room when Jamieson opened the double doors and announced, ‘Miss Mabel Trenchard.’
As Mabel entered the room and the Edgertons all rose to greet her with apparent enthusiasm, Fran decided that every one of them could easily have made a career on the stage. Not for a moment would Mabel have detected the consternation which her arrival had provoked.
‘So sorry to interrupt everyone’s evening, but I’ve got a flat tyre I’m afraid. I’ve had to leave the car on the main road and walk down. I’ve got a spare, of course, but I can’t manage to change it by myself.’ As she spoke, Mabel was divesting herself of her heavyweight motoring mackintosh, gloves, scarf and bright red beret, which she handed item by item to the waiting butler.
‘Poor Mabel, you must be frozen,’ said Mellie. ‘Jamieson, please bring in some hot coffee for Miss Trenchard at once.’
‘Actually, I’m pretty warm from the walk, but coffee would be jolly nice all the same. Oh, hello, Mrs Black. I wasn’t expecting to see you back here so soon.’
Though Mabel smiled and extended a hand, Fran felt sure that she was actually not at all pleased to see her.
‘I’m just passing through,’ Fran said, returning the smile while wondering how long it might take for someone to escort Miss Trenchard back to her car, help her change the wheel and get her back on her way.
As if he had picked up on Fran’s thought, Eddie said, ‘I’ll get Jamieson to roust out Jennings and his lad from the top cottages. They can walk up to the main road and get the tyr
e changed while you’re having your coffee, Mabel.’
‘Oh, thank you. But there’s really no rush. I mean, I could do it myself if someone could walk back with me and give me a hand.’
‘Not at all. Wouldn’t hear of your having to mess about with it.’ Eddie positively scooted out of the room without giving Mabel any further opportunity to object.
While Eddie was gone, Mellie asked Mabel about the health of her parents and sisters and then Mabel, who gave every appearance of settling in for the rest of the evening, volunteered that Cecil Truscott was rumoured to have asked Evangeline Bicknell to marry him and wasn’t it a scream, what with her being forty if she was a day. Fran and Henrietta covertly exchanged agonized looks.
‘I say, Mabel,’ Eddie said on his return, ‘I’ve had an even better idea. My car is being brought down from the garage so that I can run you back up to the main road as soon as you are ready.’
‘But there’s absolutely no need. It barely takes a quarter of an hour to walk it. Anyone would think you were eager to get rid of me.’
‘Of course we’re not,’ said Roly. ‘It’s just that we don’t want them getting anxious about you back at home.’
‘Oh, good point,’ said Mabel. ‘Why don’t I use your telephone and call to say where I am? That way no one will worry for hours yet.’
While Mabel was out in the hall, using the telephone, there was a hasty conference in the drawing room.
‘I suppose we could come clean, swear Mabel to secrecy and let her in on what’s afoot. Mabel’s a jolly good sport and up for anything, you know.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Hen,’ said her older brother. ‘We can’t possibly involve Mabel in something which is top secret, could easily go wrong and may be dangerous.’
‘Anyway, Mabel can’t keep a secret to save her life. She would blab across the entire neighbourhood,’ protested Mellie. ‘And suppose your plan doesn’t work? Suppose no one turns up? We would be the laughing stock of the district.’
