The Affair of the Christmas Card Killer (Lord Kit Aston Book 1)

by Jack Murray

  ‘By the way, Miss Buchan, did anyone from the Hall go to the Edmunds cottage on Christmas Day? I saw tracks between the Hall and the cottage. They looked fresh.’

  Unfortunately, Miss Buchan was unable to shed any light on who might have gone from the Hall. She seemed to be telling the truth, insofar as Kit was able to judge. They parted after this and Kit decided to go the library to see the two sisters. He knocked on the door but received no answer. Assuming they had not heard him, he tried a second time. Still no answer. Rather than wait he pushed the door open. The room was empty. Seems odd, he thought, where have the sisters gone?

  -

  Miller squelched out towards the cottage. The ground underneath his feet was a pleasant combination of sludge and ice. Up ahead he saw Edmunds walking towards the stables. Changing direction, he trotted over to join Edmunds as he walked towards the stables.

  ‘Are you a groom as well?’ asked Miller indicating the stables.

  ‘No, just Jane. There’s a barn behind the stables. I want to check on the equipment.’

  Miller also noticed the trail of footsteps through the snow leading from the Hall to the stables. There seemed to be two sets of prints, but it was just as probable that it had been made by the same person returning. Miller could sense Edmunds looking at him. He turned and faced Edmunds. ‘Apart from Lord Cavendish, did anyone from the Hall come to visit your cottage over Christmas?’

  Edmunds eyes narrowed, ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  Miller explained about the tracks in the snow. They continued to walk without Edmunds replying. Miller decided to wait for a reply. They reached the stables and Miller saw the horses for the first time. There were three horses, two greys and a chestnut. Edmunds went over to each of them and patted them. Each of the horses seemed to recognize Edmunds and, in Miller’s estimation, were pleased to see him.

  The smell of manure in the stable was something Miller found eye wateringly pungent. Edmunds smiled at the reaction of Miller.

  ‘You’re from the city then.’

  ‘Born and bred.’

  ‘This is Derry,’ said Edmunds, indicating one of the greys. ‘The other grey is Frisco and the chestnut is Paris.’

  ‘They’re beautiful. Your daughter looks after them well.’

  ‘They’re family to her.’ It was apparent Edmunds was not going to answer Miller’s earlier question so there was no point in this line of inquiry pursuing any further. After ensuring the feed and water containers were well stocked, Edmunds indicated he was finished in the stable. They went behind the stable to a large barn containing various items of farm equipment, feed for the horses as well as bales of hay. The smell of the manure now co-mingled with the sweeter smell of hay and petrol. Which is to say it still gave off a stench that Miller knew he would never get used to.

  ‘You get used to it,’ said Edmunds seeming to read his mind.

  ‘Not sure I would, but there you go,’ said Miller with a laugh.

  There seemed no prospect of getting anything useful out of Edmunds, so Miller bade him a farewell and retraced the existing footsteps back to the Hall. There was no doubt both Edmunds and the staff at the Hall were hiding something. If it were relevant to Cavendish, then it would be up to the Police to establish what they were trying to conceal as he and Kit were at the limit of what they could reasonably establish.

  -

  Where had they gone? There was no doubt they had been in here, thought Kit. He checked the windows, but none had been opened. No other door was visible. Then he noticed something peculiar, the photograph of the Battalion was no longer on the wall.

  Kit walked over to the desk to see if it had been placed inside one the drawers. They were empty except for some paper documents. Checking under the desk he could see that it had not fallen down. The only possible conclusion to be drawn involved the sisters had taking it. This brought him back to his original question, where on earth had they disappeared?

  A thought occurred to Kit and went to the opposite wall from the where he stood. He began to tap on the wall to check the relative thickness. Moving slowly on the along the wall he tapped it every few feet. After a minute he found a part of the wall that was potentially hollow behind. He looked around for something obvious to press or pull in order to reveal a hidden door. This seemed to be the stuff of children’s stories, he thought to himself, before remembering Aston Manor also had a number of priest holes and secret passages.

  Another few minutes elapsed as he pushed various parts of the wall and even, after a mumbled apology, had a quick look behind the paintings. Eventually he walked back to the table. At the corner of the table was a button. He pressed it. A door in the wall near where he had been tapping: a secret room. This was not just the stuff of a “penny blood”. There was no doubt, in Kit’s mind, the girls had escaped using this door. He decided to follow them.

  The door led into a tiny corridor that was dark save for the light from the library. Groping in the poor light he felt around the wall and found another door. He opened the door and stepped in another small room. Inside he found the Cavendish sisters. Esther was seated at a small wooden table. On the table was the framed photograph from the library. When he entered, Esther looked up and seemed unsurprised by his arrival. Mary, who had her back to Kit turned her head and said, ‘I told you he’d find us.’

  ‘It wasn’t easy.’

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be,‘ replied Mary. Then she turned around slowly. To Kit’s speechless amazement, she was holding a gun. It was pointed directly at Kit.

  Chapter 22

  The Police arrived at Cavendish Hall just after midday. Inspector Leopold Augustus Stott of the Lincolnshire Police was met by Curtis and invited to sit in the drawing room. Accompanying Stott was Constable Christopher Coltrane, who was in his second week on the force. Stott gave no impression of having even the slightest confidence in the new recruit. The result was that young Coltrane’s nerves were completely shot. This was a source of no little satisfaction to Stott.

  The estimable Stott was a very experienced officer of the Lincolnshire Police. He had joined straight from school and for more than two score years had kept the streets of Lincoln as free from the tentacles of crime as could reasonably have been expected. Regrets were few although he would always harbor a lingering question as to whether he should have exercised his, not inconsiderable, skills on a bigger stage than Lincoln.

  Ambition and energy go hand in hand. From an early age, Stott recognized one without the other would result in certain disappointment. Similarly, insight into oneself went hand in hand with understanding the criminal mind. Such objectivity had long since helped him realize that his undeniable ambition would always take second place to an inherent predisposition towards idleness.

  Stott’s indolent nature informed his approach to criminal investigation and his management of subordinates. His primary objective, when presented with a case, was to prove, as early as possible in the investigation, there was no case to investigate. It never ceased to amaze him how the young bloods in the constabulary were always in such a lather to turn the most innocent of circumstances into a full-blown manhunt.

  The unexpected arrival of Stott created a problem for Curtis as he had no idea where the key principals were. The sisters had disappeared earlier in the morning. Lord Aston had arrived back and then, himself, disappeared. Strangerson had indicated a desire to walk into town, Henry was walking in the grounds and Bright had last been seen in the drawing room.

  Sensing Curtis was at a loss on what to do, Stott suggested a visit to the late Lord Cavendish might be a prudent next step. In the presence of such a sensible idea, Curtis was more than happy to assent. They both proceeded up the stairs to the bedroom. Save for the dead body, it was empty. It was also very cold as all of the windows had remained open for the previous twenty-four hours.

  ‘It’s a bit parky, sir,’ offered Coltrane.

  This was met by a glare from Stott. Ignoring Curtis and Coltrane,
he set to work. The former offered to look for the good Doctor in order to assist the Inspector with his preliminary investigation.

  By the time they had reached the room, Stott had already slipped into his well-practiced modus operandi. His initial impressions suggested Cavendish’s death may not have been by foul means. Stott’s goal was to confirm, prior to any post mortem anyway, such a hypothesis. Sadly, on first inspection, it seemed improbable this case involved suicide. Had the worthy Lincolnshire Police force captured performance statistics on their personnel it would have revealed an unusually high incidence of suicides and correspondingly low murder rate in the cases investigated by Stott. However, he retained strong hopes that death by natural causes may provide the answer to the unexplained early demise of Lord Cavendish.

  When Curtis left the room to find Doctor Bright, Stott made some cursory efforts to inspect the room. First, he checked the doors and then the windows for signs of forced entry. After completing this, he was somewhat at a loss as to what to do next.

  Coltrane looked at Stott. He found the Inspector disagreeable and was already having doubts about his chosen profession. Stott presented a figure who seemed an alarming portent for what could happen to him. The man he was looking at was short, rotund and had as red a face as he’d ever seen. The ruddiness of the visage was obscured by a large moustache which would have looked dated ten years ago and now looked positively mid Victorian. Stott, however, was immensely proud of his moustaches and stroked them often, particularly when asked a question requiring him to buy time to answer it.

  Coltrane caught his eye in the hope that he would be asked to do some, detecting. Realizing he had better delegate Coltrane something useful to do, he sent him to round up the domestic staff for an initial interview.

  Left alone in the room with the deceased, he spent a few moments looking at Cavendish before casting his eyes around the room without the foggiest idea of what to look for. The room was sparsely furnished. If Stott had not already known, he would have guessed this was a military man or a widower. There was a lack of ornamentation and personal touches. It spoke of a man who had spent much of his life on the move. The window showed no signs of forced entry, but the view was very pleasant.

  There was a leather armchair by the window and Stott tried it for size. It was a pity it was so cold as he might have enjoyed sitting there longer. Pondering what to do next he looked out the window. He could see a young man in the grounds, walking alone. The young man seemed familiar, but he could not place him and gave it no more thought.

  The return of Curtis with Doctor Bright was a relief to Stott, who was, by now, bored. After formal introductions, Stott dismissed Curtis and then asked Bright for his professional opinion on what had led to the demise of Lord Cavendish.

  Bright related the events of the previous two days, which tallied with what Curtis had earlier told him. This gave hope to Stott, a locked room with no signs of forced entry, aside from the previous morning, was always good news. Having set the scene, Bright continued to speak about Cavendish.

  ‘I haven’t had been able to do a full examination, clearly, but I can detect no signs of violence on his person.’

  ‘Meaning?’ asked Stott.

  ‘No wounds or bruising. In the absence of a post mortem to check for the presence of any toxic agent, it would appear, on the face of it, to be a death by natural causes.’

  ‘I see. Any other thoughts and please feel free to offer an opinion here, no one else is around. We’ll keep it to ourselves,’ said Stott.

  ‘Cavendish was not a young man. Even though he appeared to be in good form on his last night, for all we know he may have had a heart condition or some other illness that he was hiding from his family.’

  This seemed a good moment as any for Stott to stroke his moustache. He turned away from Bright and walked over to the door. Having already ascertained it had been forced from the outside, this served no purpose other than to buy time for his next thought. Thankfully it came to him soon. Looking again at Bright he asked, ‘Based on what you’ve seen of Lord Cavendish, your recommendation would be to progress to a post mortem?’ Bright confirmed this with a nod of his head.

  ‘Very well. I’m not sure there’s anything more to be gained by staying in this room unless you’ve a desire to contract hypothermia.’ As they left the room and walked into the, distinctly warmer, corridor, Coltrane reappeared. Glancing at Bright he reported to Stott that all the staff had assembled in the kitchen.

  ‘Excellent, we can kill two birds with one stone. I don’t suppose you noticed if the cook was preparing lunch. I must confess I’m feeling a little bit peckish.’ Coltrane gazed at the large stomach of the venerable Inspector.

  ‘I believe she was, sir,’ responded Coltrane.

  ‘Excellent, let us interrogate the staff, lead on Coltrane.’

  The three men walked down the stairs into the main hallway. Stott looked at the grand Christmas tree and wondered how long it would remain given the tragic circumstances of the last few days.

  Bright turned to Stott as they descended the back stairs to the kitchen. ‘May I ask you a question Inspector?’

  ‘Of course, Doctor Bright.’

  ‘Why has an Inspector from Lincoln come all the way over here for what may have been death by natural causes?’

  ‘Good question.’ In fact, Stott heartily agreed with the sentiment. How he wished he was in a nice warm station, at this moment, rather than moving from one cold room to an equally cold and drafty corridor. He might be in need of a Doctor soon himself. However, he felt Bright was owed an explanation for his presence and it might be an opportunity to check his reactions to the news. Sadly, he could not entirely ignore duty because, no matter how remote the possibility might seem, there was a chance he was talking to a murderer.

  ‘Lord Cavendish was in receipt, a few years ago, of threatening messages. They were delivered by post at Christmas. He reported them to the Police. We even went as far as to send some officers out to patrol the grounds in case an attempt was made on his life. Thankfully, back then, nothing untoward took place. In the end Lord Cavendish thanked us for our preparedness but decided no further action was necessary.’

  ‘Good Lord,’ exclaimed Bright, ‘I think I understand now why Kit wanted to question everyone.’

  ‘Kit?’

  ‘Kit Aston,’ said Bright before adding, ‘Lord Aston.’

  ‘Lord Aston is here? I must have missed this from er…’

  ‘Curtis.’

  ‘Indeed, Curtis. Well this is very interesting, I’ve heard a lot about his Lord Aston. I look forward to meeting him. Where is he exactly?’

  Chapter 23

  The answer to this question would have surprised the estimable Inspector. Kit Aston was staring down at a gun Mary Cavendish was pointing at his chest. After the initial shock, a smile spread slowly over Kit’s face and he said after a few moments, ‘Am I supposed to put my hands up?’ The casualness in his tone of voice suggested that he did not view his life to be in imminent danger.

  Dismayed, Mary pulled a face and turned the gun towards Esther who was holding a cigarette. Pulling the trigger on the gun caused a tiny flame to emerge sufficient to light the proffered cigarette.

  ‘You’re no fun,’ pouted Mary.

  ‘I assure you, I can be tremendous fun in the right circumstances,’ replied Kit. Mary shot Kit a look but made no reply. Kit continued in a more serious tone, ‘How are you feeling?’

  Esther still looked tearful, but Mary was more in control and replied, ‘It’ll be a while before it sinks in. I try not to think of what life will be like without him. I want to know what happened. Have you had any more thoughts Kit?

  ‘I still don’t want to speculate too much. I walked into the village earlier to see Tom Simmons. He hadn’t heard. He was quite upset. Clearly he’d a high regard for your grandfather.’

  Esther grimaced slightly and said to Mary, ‘We should’ve called him.’

  ‘How coul
d we Essie?’ said Mary gently, ‘There was no line.’

  Kit continued, ‘When I was coming back I saw Mrs Edmunds and her daughter. Harry saw them yesterday. I gather the daughter seems to be somewhat headstrong.’

  Mary smiled and raised her eyebrows, ‘She’s getting to that age, I suppose. I’m sure Essie and I would’ve seemed the same at her age.’ A thought struck her, and she added, ‘Why did Mr Miller go to see them? Do you think someone from the Edmunds family would’ve reason to kill grandpapa?’

  ‘It makes sense to see everyone, and check their movements, if only to discount any possibility of their involvement. This would be a finding in itself. The particular reason for seeing the Edmunds family is we found fresh tracks in the snow from their cottage to the Hall. They could only have been made on Christmas morning or late last night. I wanted to check who had made them.’ Esther and Mary nodded but said nothing, so Kit added, ‘What’s Jane like? I gather she looks after your horses.’

  Esther answered, ‘She loves the horses, spends all her time with them. Always has. But you’re right, she is a bit less friendly now. Not unfriendly, just more distant with us now.’

  ‘You mean she was friendly in the past?’ asked Kit.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Mary. ‘She used to spend all her time with us, she was like a little sister for us and Henry. We probably treated her dreadfully, but she was a good sport and we always had a good laugh. She even joined us in our lessons with the governess. She’s actually very bright.’

  ‘Henry? I thought he didn’t spend much time here?’

  Esther chipped in, ‘Henry used to spend the summer here, when Uncle Robert was still alive. It wasn’t until we lost papa and Uncle Robert that things changed. He and Aunt Emily became more withdrawn. Perhaps us also.’