by Amy Myers
The buffet over, Nell stood in the doorway to the ballroom watching General Warminster. He was wandering affably – and looking rather lost – among his guests as the dancing began again. She could see Lady Helen with Mr Beringer, his arm protectively around her. Arthur was walking over to chat to the general, though what they had in common was hard to imagine. Guy was performing his best with his band and Lady Sophy was cavorting – yes, with William. The person Nell could not see was Inspector Melbray. He must be here, unless he had been joking when he said he was coming. Of course, she had been busy with the buffet and might have missed him.
Then she spotted him. He was hardly recognizable in his dress suit and he was dancing a tango with – what a surprise! – Lady Warminster. It looked to her at first as though he was enjoying it immensely, but as she watched more closely, it dawned on her that every time a turn of direction might suggest a closer embrace with the lady he promptly turned her in a different direction. Was that purposely to annoy Her Ladyship? Nell wondered. Perhaps that was sheer imagination on her part, although why would her imagination be dwelling on such an unimportant point? More interesting, she instructed herself, was that Lady Sophy was still dancing with William Foster. Was that something to applaud? Had Lady Warminster noticed? Nell’s attention was diverted when General Warminster came over to her.
‘I claim my dance, Miss Drury,’ he said. ‘A foxtrot, I believe.’
Nell speedily whipped off her apron, glad that she had worn her chiffon dancing frock and not her working clothes.
‘Are you interested in motor cars, Miss Drury?’ he asked as they danced.
‘I have one and very grateful I am for my Austin Seven. Travelling to and fro by horse with banquet food would be most inconvenient.’
‘My wife has bought yet another new motor car in my absence,’ he reflected. ‘It is fortunate we have not merely a chauffeur but a splendid additional driver in our gardener. In fact, I thought I saw Foster dancing with Lady Sophy but he seems to have left the floor. No doubt they will dance again. It seems the episode in which he was involved at Wychbourne Court is quite a talking point. My wife regards it as a splendid joke.’
‘It was,’ Nell replied on cue. ‘And such fun to see them dancing together now.’
‘It is indeed. I wonder, Miss Drury, if I might talk to you about that night. You might care to see the new motor car.’
‘I would indeed.’ What else could she say? Where would this lead? Nell wondered, dismayed. Was General Warminster yet another person who thought she had the answer to everything? She tentatively tried a diversionary tactic.
‘Inspector Melbray is here, I believe, General. He would be able to tell you more than I can.’
‘I’ve met him. Good fellow. Not an army man but good all the same. He was in the police force during the war. London had it bad at times. But Melbray wasn’t at Wychbourne before the murder, nor was he there when the body was found. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. It’s always my strategy to listen to hear how the campaign went at the time and then I’m ready to judge the results.’
Without more ado he escorted her into the gardens and round to the yard which now boasted motor car garages as well as the horse stables. The guests’ cars were parked in front of the house for the evening, and so the Delage together with a Bentley were its sole occupants apart from the incurious horses. The presence of other garages was another testament to Lady Warminster’s passion for motor cars.
The general waved a hand at those before him. ‘They’re the future,’ he said. ‘The horse’s day is done, more’s the pity. I was a cavalry man so horses have been good friends of mine, which is more than one can say for lumps of metal like these. Nice looking, though, I grant you. There’s Foster now. Here for a cigarette, no doubt.’
Nell looked over and saw William standing with Guy Ellimore in the porch of what must be a rear service entrance.
‘My wife has a rule, Miss Drury. No smoking in the house,’ General Warminster remarked.
‘The guests were smoking in the supper room.’
‘Guests,’ he said, ‘appear to be different. It’s servants’ smoking that my wife objects to. She doesn’t want them dropping ash into anything she might be eating. I beg your pardon,’ he added instantly. ‘I’m not implying you—’
‘I only smoke salmon,’ she reassured him.
By the time they reached William and Guy, however, the cigarettes had disappeared.
‘Good playing, Ellimore,’ the general congratulated him. ‘More used to the trumpet myself. Reveille. Play during the war, did you?’
‘I was in the air force, sir. Squadron leader.’
‘That’s the future too,’ General Warminster said reflectively. ‘Aircraft. The Navy’s day is over. Were you playing at Wychbourne Court when the murder took place at the ghost hunt?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you were there too, Foster, Lady Sophy tells me.’
‘Yes, General.’ Foster looked more like Douglas Fairbanks than ever, Nell thought, but in his case a very unhappy one, judging by his expression. ‘It’s not her fault, sir. I agreed to it.’
‘Subject’s over, Foster. These murders are not, though. Tell me about them, Miss Drury, if you please. You can speak out as both Ellimore and Foster were there.’
Nell took a deep breath and related the story once again. She noted that General Warminster was concentrating on the first murder, although his wife had been in Wychbourne on the day of Miss Harlington’s murder too. It was true she hadn’t been at the dinner, though, having left after the reconstruction. She could see the general listening intently to what she had to say, and then he turned to Guy and William.
‘You two were talking in the supper room at Wychbourne, so my wife tells me. Poor little woman felt queasy – nothing to do with your food, Miss Drury – and she decided to leave early.’
‘I left just before twelve thirty, General,’ William said miserably.
‘Then I went to join Miss Drury’s group,’ Guy added.
‘And you found the body not long after that.’ General Warminster’s keen eyes fell on her. ‘Why was Parkyn-Wright killed? Wasn’t married, was he? Not one of those crimes passionnels? I don’t hold with that sort of thing. Once you’re married, you’re married whether you like it nor not. Then there was this other murder two weeks or so later. Was the girl a wife, girlfriend, rejected lover, that sort of thing? We had enough of that going on in the war.’
‘They were bad days then, sir,’ Guy said. ‘Bad for wives and bad for men away at the front.’
‘Worse for them,’ General Warminster grunted. ‘And look at the mess it’s left behind. Persia heading for trouble too, despite the Teheran agreement. I commanded in the South Persian Rifles, thought we had it all under control, then along comes that Reza Khan chap and makes himself dictator, throwing the Russians out and us. I’ve spent the last four years advising the air force in Mesopotamia. Your field, Ellimore. Sorry, Foster, I know Lady Sophy’s a fan of the Russians and perhaps you are too, but they’re looking for expansion, believe me.’
‘They’re doing wonderful things there,’ Foster said miserably – and in the circumstances foolishly, Nell thought.
‘They’ll be doing wonderful things wherever they walk into next,’ General Warminster said drily. ‘Well, goodnight to you. Good car, that Delage,’ he added. ‘My wife’s got an eye for’ – Nell thought she detected a pause here – ‘motor cars.’ He watched as Foster and Guy returned to the house. ‘Rum fellow that,’ he said to Nell. ‘Something odd about him.’
So General Warminster’s eye was still on William, whose Douglas Fairbanks looks wouldn’t help one little bit if he put a foot wrong again. Nell wondered why the general had been so eager to hear her account of the day of the murder. Was it mere curiosity or did he fear his wife had been involved?
As she entered the supper room again, Mr Beringer greeted her, bowing politely. ‘Another triumph, Miss Drury.’
&nbs
p; ‘Is Lady Helen coping with the dance?’ she asked him. ‘She seems better now.’
‘She is. I love Wychbourne but it’s time for me to return to London now.’
‘After the ghost gathering, I hope,’ Nell said.
‘The what?’
‘You haven’t heard? She explained and Mr Beringer looked dismayed.
‘I should certainly stay for that then. Helen may need me. Are the police attending?’
‘I fear I am.’ Inspector Melbray had materialized seemingly from nowhere to answer his question. ‘I have been convinced by Lady Clarice that it will speed up the case investigation. The ghosts will assist me, she assures me.’ He turned to Nell. ‘Miss Drury, may I claim a dance with you?’
Her initial surprise vanished. Why not? ‘Later, perhaps?’ she suggested. ‘I have to finish here first.’
Dancing with the nice inspector, Nell Drury – whatever next? she thought.
What came next was the kitchen where Kitty and Michel would be hard at work. The buffet might be over but all too soon it would be time to serve the late supper. As she was passing the servants’ hall, however, she saw a very unhappy William Foster sitting at a table, alone, with his head in his hands.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked tentatively. She couldn’t just walk by.
‘Everything,’ he growled. ‘I owned up and told the inspector and General Warminster about how I came to be at Wychbourne Court that Saturday, but now the cops are trying to pin the murder on me.’
‘How can they?’ Nell asked practically, sitting at his side. ‘You left the building at about twelve thirty, to which there is a witness, and before that you were talking to Guy Ellimore. He confirms that.’
‘But the blighter was dead by then. From what he said, I reckon that inspector’s trying to prove I did him in before you all went up on the gallery.’
‘The butler would have seen you.’ Nell knew she was plunging into deep water. ‘He was in the great hall preparing for the ghost hunt and before that, but in any case we know Charlie was alive until after the hunt began because he groaned – as a joke,’ she added hastily.
‘He might reckon I could have slipped up there while the groups were changing over. You wouldn’t have noticed then if anyone who shouldn’t have was nipping up those stairs. Anyway, they think I did it because of all the Hugh Beaumont stuff.’
Nell stared at him, aghast. ‘But why would you want to kill Mr Parkyn-Wright? You didn’t even know him.’
He flushed. ‘He knew about me. Picked up gossip last time he visited about me and Lady Warminster.’ He broke off, embarrassed.
‘That you are or were friends,’ Nell said helpfully.
‘Yes, nothing bad,’ he said hastily, avoiding her eye, ‘but General Warminster wouldn’t like it.’
‘More importantly, does the inspector know about your friendship?’
‘Yes,’ he said unhappily.
Nell sighed. ‘You’re probably worrying for nothing. After all, he can’t blame you for murdering Miss Harlington, can he? This house is miles away from Wychbourne Court.’
He looked puzzled. ‘But we were there that night she died.’
Nell blinked. ‘You couldn’t have been. You came to the inquest and reconstruction earlier in the day but Lady Warminster left before dinner.’
From a Douglas Fairbanks about to sweep her off her feet, Foster now looked more like a frightened rabbit. ‘We went down to the inn for supper,’ he said miserably. ‘Her Ladyship took a private room. Didn’t want to be seen, she said.’
This was beginning to look grim. ‘Do the police know this?’
‘Don’t know. Then she said after we’d eaten there was somebody she had to talk to at Wychbourne Court. That suited me. She said she’d come back to the inn later on.’
‘And did she?’ Nell asked blankly. ‘What time?’
‘Not sure. I fell asleep and she found me there. Must have been about half nine. The police might know all this, though,’ he said hopefully. ‘They’ve talked to her.’
‘But you didn’t tell them yourself?’
‘Can’t remember. Might have.’ His voice lacked conviction. Then he added, ‘You tell them, Miss Drury. Ten to one there’ll be nothing to it.’
‘They’ll want to talk to you, not me.’ This was the last thing she wanted.
‘You could maybe pave the way,’ he said pleadingly.
‘I’ll think it over,’ Nell said. ‘Meanwhile, I’ve supper to think of.’
That was something much more pleasant on which to concentrate. It should all be laid out there now, the tartlettes à la Tosca, the croquettes de Camembert, the delices de foie gras, the ices, the soufflés and the anges à cheval as Lady Warminster had insisted – no simple angels on horseback for her. And then she saw Inspector Melbray approaching her.
‘Later has arrived, Miss Drury,’ he said amiably. ‘Our dance. Shall it be the Charleston or the waltz?’
It was a trap, she could see that immediately. Choose the Charleston and they would be flying legs and arms, partnering but not together. Choose the waltz and he would be holding her close, his arms round her. He would be in control. Or was she merely imagining this trap? It was just a dance, after all, and she would enjoy it. Nevertheless, in case it was a trap, she would take up the challenge. ‘The waltz, please.’ She smiled at him.
‘Excellent. I’ll tell Mr Ellimore.’
‘Are you sure Lady Warminster won’t object to our dancing together?’ she asked sweetly.
‘She will not.’
And here she was a few minutes later, dancing with the nice inspector. Of all things the band was playing Jack Caddigan’s ‘The Sweetheart Waltz’. Still, no matter. He was a good dancer, she realized, and being close to him was no problem at all. She began to relax – then tensed again as she remembered Foster. She did her best to forget it but she couldn’t.
‘I’ve something I must tell you,’ she said awkwardly.
His grip tightened. ‘And what is that?’
‘Some evidence you might not have.’
‘And you think I should know it this very moment?’
How could she say no? ‘I do.’
He stopped. ‘Then we must leave the floor, Miss Drury,’ he said formally. ‘It would be inappropriate to concentrate on work here. This is not Charlie’s dance. It is the Inspector’s dance and that is far different.’ His voice was very cold and formal now and she bitterly regretted her stupidity. She had wanted to get this unpleasant job out of the way and all she had done was infuriate the inspector when she had had no intention of doing so.
‘Come, Miss Drury. Let us go outside and find somewhere where work might seem more attractive.’
She was disconcerted, yet again feeling like a naughty child. Outside on the terrace lights twinkled and, below the steps to the garden, lights stretched into the dusky distance. Wherever he intended to take her she couldn’t retreat now.
‘There was a quiet spot I found the other day,’ he said as they walked in silence through the rows of lights hidden in the trees. ‘We might as well be somewhere pleasant if we are doomed to work.’
The somewhere pleasant was by a pond tucked away beyond the main lake but close enough to the lights for the path to be lit and for it still to be secluded by trees and shrubbery.
‘Tell me,’ he said at last when they were seated on a bench. Nell had to force herself to speak with the ordeal seeming more and more insurmountable.
‘Lady Warminster—’
‘It is as well we left the dance floor,’ he interrupted. ‘She is our hostess and it is hardly polite to impart detrimental information while accepting her hospitality.’
‘I’m serious,’ Nell protested, angry at being checkmated again.
‘And so am I. Tell me, if you please. I will not interrupt again.’ She could see muscles working hard in his face. He was furious – but now so was she.
He kept his word and was silent as she told him what William Foster had to say.
When she had finished he remained silent, however. ‘You know it already?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not this much. Is Foster telling the truth, do you think?’
She considered this. She was aware of his breathing close to her in the silence. She could smell the late scents of the evening, hear the occasional late night cry of birds. ‘I do believe him.’
‘Why?’
She had to consider this too. ‘Because he had already told you about the joke that led to his presence at Wychbourne Court and when he was talking to me the words just came tumbling out. He could just have said that he had told you the story. Also, he was so worried that you would suspect him for Mr Charles’s death that he had given no thought to Miss Harlington’s. If he had been lying he would have covered both.’
‘Well argued, but there’s no evidence. I must speak to Lady Warminster – tomorrow,’ he added. ‘The etiquette books fail to specify what to do if one wishes to interrogate one’s hostess about a murder, especially a strangling, but I am sure they would recommend postponement.’
‘And William?’ Nell asked uncertainly, wondering if she was stepping on toes again. ‘His job …’
He surprised her again. ‘He’s unlikely to suffer through your telling me this unless he is a murderer. If his peccadillos catch up with him, however, he would always have a future in Hollywood, and if by any foolish chance he was overlooked, his training as a gardener would not make it hard for him to find another job.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. It was heartfelt.
‘Our dance, Miss Drury,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘I believe I can hear the waltz. Shall we return to the floor or continue our earlier dance here? The waltz still plays and we can hear the music.’
