‘I think there’s another point against Michael,’ said Alexander. ‘His character doesn’t seem to fit with the attacks, does it? They were all so random and risky, but Michael seems quite a careful person. When the port was poisoned with mistletoe, lots of people were ill at the party, including Michael. And if Chummy was the target all along, why would Michael run the risk of pushing the wrong brother into the pond? It just wouldn’t be his way.’
‘Very true,’ said Daisy, frowning. ‘Michael really is not the most brilliant of suspects, although he did not like Chummy. If it was Alfred, though, I can imagine him lashing out and not minding who he hurt, as long as he got to Chummy eventually. He’s the sort of person who gets what he wants, and doesn’t mind who else is upset along the way. And if it was Donald – why, he could drink enough port to be ill but not seriously hurt, and then jump into the pond and pretend to be drowning. He could cover his tracks.’
‘Moss thinks it’s Donald, after all!’ said Alexander. ‘Donald does have a motive, and he’s been behaving so oddly since Chummy died. He’s happy about him being dead!’
‘This is all perfectly true, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves!’ said Daisy severely. ‘We ought to go on to Amanda next. I know she can’t be a suspect, but she’s more and more suspicious. We found odd things on the front of her coat – brick dust and mud – and, as Hazel and I also discovered, she has a connection to Chummy. She’s been writing his essays for pay, as well as Donald’s and Bertie’s, and we know that someone at Maudlin discovered this.’
‘So?’ asked George. ‘Amanda can’t have been on the staircase on the night of the murder.’
‘But then how did she know about the fall?’ I asked. ‘Did you believe what Donald said to the policeman just now? That he called her?’
‘No,’ said Daisy decisively. ‘He was just saying that so PC Cross wouldn’t ask any more awkward questions and go away – and that in itself makes him more suspicious!’
‘Wait up,’ said Alexander. ‘I’ve just had another thought. The dons’ garden wall is brick. I noticed it again just now. And that garden’s full of mud. What if – tell me if I’m being idiotic. What if that other set of footprints we found in the garden belonged to Amanda? After all, who leans against a wall forwards? That dust would only make sense if she was climbing the wall. Then imagine she went up the drainpipe and onto the staircase through one of the garden side rooms. She could have been there at the right time yesterday night. She could even have set the trap. If Donald didn’t make that call, she could still have known about the fall, without being told, if she was there!’
My heart raced. It might fit. It certainly sounded more likely than Donald calling her. ‘That would explain why she woke us up too!’ I said. ‘She would have needed to tell someone that there had been a telephone call, so we could confirm her story later. But … wait. Amanda doesn’t climb! Or at least, she hasn’t told us she does.’
‘Girls can climb just as well as boys, Hazel!’ said Daisy. ‘And climbing seems to keep coming into this case. As far as we know, it’s only the male students who are in the secret climbing society, but why shouldn’t a St Lucy’s student climb as well? Remember, Bertie told us that even as a society member, you don’t always know who the other climbers are outside your own chapter – it’s that secretive.’
I had a sudden, dizzying memory of climbing up the side of House during our last case at Deepdean. It is true that some girls (like Daisy) are excellent climbers, and also true that I am not one of them.
‘Could you ask her?’ said Alexander.
‘You can’t just ask about someone’s secrets,’ said Daisy. ‘You have to pry them out, like oysters. But … oh, bother it, you might be right. If Amanda went through the garden, she might have picked up that wood there and pushed it into a window, to keep it open.’
‘Do the marks fit?’ I asked. We all peered at its flattened ends, and the bump in the middle.
‘Hmm,’ said Daisy. ‘It’s almost as though it was jammed against something, isn’t it? Something that bumped back out against it.’
‘But if it was Amanda, how could she have set the other traps?’ I asked. That was puzzling me. ‘Amanda might have been able to drop the mistletoe into the decanter by creeping in up the drainpipe while everyone was out one day, but how could she have pushed Donald into the pond? She wasn’t at Maudlin for that dinner. She was waiting for us on Mill Lane when we went outside afterwards.’
‘We can’t be certain of that, Hazel. She might have slipped in over the wall again and been hiding in the dark, somewhere close to the pond!’ said Daisy. ‘It might explain why the wrong brother was pushed in. She was in a rush, and trying to get away again before she was seen. All the other pranks work as well, if we believe she has access to the college through the dons’ garden. She could have slipped up the drainpipe and set up the bucket trick, and she could have been climbing near the men, and worked the bit of stone loose. And if she wasn’t exactly on the spot, then she couldn’t make sure the right person was hurt, which explains the odd randomness of the attacks better than any other theory!’
We stared at each other, and I felt an electric fizz in my stomach. I almost forgot how cold I was. Had we suddenly uncovered the murderer?
2
‘Excellent,’ said Daisy. ‘Now. Plan of action, if you please. We need to investigate Amanda immediately!’
I nodded. ‘Ought we to recreate the crime as well?’ I asked. ‘Creep about on stockinged feet, I mean, just to see whether Michael could have managed it.’
‘Yes – only we have to make sure not to run into PC Cross as we do it!’ said Daisy. ‘Bother him, what a clodhopper he is! I wish that we had the tools the police do. I’m sure we have twice the brains!’ I thought of the fingerprint kit waiting for her, wrapped, in our rooms in St Lucy’s, and smiled to myself.
‘But isn’t that the best thing about us?’ asked George. ‘We aren’t the police, so we don’t have to behave just like them. We detect differently.’
‘True,’ said Daisy. ‘Grown-ups don’t notice us, which is a wonder.’
‘They don’t notice you now,’ said George. ‘But they will one day. We are growing up, after all.’
‘Well, some of us are,’ said Daisy, looking at me. I thought of Alexander and was glad my cheeks were already pink with the cold.
Then there was a furious shout behind us. I turned, and saw Aunt Eustacia. Her face was bright red, and she was wrapped in a magnificent purple coat. Behind her hurried Mr Perkins, looking distressed.
Alexander very quickly slid the bit of wood up his sleeve. He had to tilt his wrist to hold it in, and it did look odd – but only if you were searching for it.
‘Daisy!’ cried Aunt Eustacia. ‘Hazel! Goodness me, it’s like having charge of a pair of monkeys. Whatever are you doing standing in the snow like little matchgirls? Anyone would think you had nowhere to go. Price came back to college half an hour ago and simply said you were at Maudlin – this is the end for her. I cannot trust her any more. I can’t think what’s got into her this holidays!’
We all shot a look at each other. Did we know?
‘Now, enough of this gallivanting!’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘Men cannot be trusted, you ought to learn that. Come away back to St Lucy’s at once, if you please. The Master will be furious when he hears of this. Boys, you must move along immediately. Really! Aren’t you old enough to know better?’
Half an hour ago, we might have resented her – but now that Amanda was a suspect, I suddenly saw that it was an excellent idea to go back to St Lucy’s, so that we could watch her properly.
‘Goodbye,’ I said to George and Alexander.
‘Goodbye,’ said Alexander, staring at Daisy.
‘Goodbye,’ said George, with a smile.
Daisy nodded her head and turned away.
‘You shall have high tea in my study,’ said Aunt Eustacia, ‘once you have taken off those wet things, of course. I believe there is ev
en a Christmas cake for afters – not, luckily enough, from our own kitchens. I prevailed on the cook to purchase one from Fitzbillies, so we are quite safe. Oh, look at you both! It’ll be a wonder if you don’t catch a chill. Hurry up now!’
I felt my stomach rumble. We had been eating little bits of things, cake and mince pies, all day, but although they were delicious I was longing for butter and toast, or potatoes with a thick stew. I wanted the certainty of a proper meal, proof that ordinary life was carrying on outside our strange little bubble.
We stepped out of the lodge (Daisy turned to wave at Mr Perkins, who was huddled once more in his cubbyhole, clutching a fresh mug of tea), and down the cobbles of Mill Lane. We were suddenly buffeted face and body by the weather. There was so much snow riding in the wind now that it was like a blanket. It was not a soft powdering, or a lovely carpet. It felt like a wild thing, fighting against us, like Cambridge itself.
3
We were sent away to change out of our wet things, and when we came down to Aunt Eustacia’s study I at last discovered that there was one part of St Lucy’s that I truly liked. The study might be faded, but it was still one of the most beautiful rooms I had ever been in. The red velvet curtains might be rather frayed and old, and the chairs mismatched, but a log fire crackled in the grate, and the white walls were all but hidden by shelves and shelves of books. They went up almost to the ceiling, and the books looked worn with use and love. My heart swelled.
Tea had been set out on the table, ready for our arrival. It was simple but delicious: muffins, ham, boiled eggs and toast and butter, with Christmas cake for afters. Aunt Eustacia had taken off her wet coat and hat and was sitting in a large armchair, warming herself by the fire. As we came in she nodded briskly at us both.
‘Good afternoon, girls! Do sit down. Have some toast. After what I have just seen at Maudlin, I would like to talk about your futures.’
This was a rather daunting way to begin. I looked at Daisy for encouragement. She was piling food onto her plate, so I followed suit. I took a fortifying, pillowy bite of muffin, and tried to look sensible and eager and not at all like a detective.
‘Now,’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘You seem content to spend your time fooling about with Men and Mysteries, so I should like to remind you that there is more to life. You both want to go to university, yes?’
‘Oh no,’ said Daisy, in her best and most foolish voice. ‘I shall be presented at Court and marry a lord, and go and live in the country and make jam.’
‘Don’t be silly, Daisy,’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘I know you better than that. What about you, Hazel?’
‘I—’ I said. I had always thought I should like to go to university. But now that I had seen Amanda, so frustrated at being clever and still passed over, I wondered if I would really be content. Why should I go to Cambridge when I could not even take a degree at the end of it, like the men? ‘I suppose.’
‘Well, that’s a start,’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘What would you study? What do you like?’
‘I – I like books.’
‘Oh? What sort?’
‘Er,’ I said, and of course the only image that came into my head was my pile of casebooks, slowly stacking up in my tuck box at Deepdean. ‘Mystery books.’
‘Haven’t you had enough of mysteries?’ said Aunt Eustacia.
‘She likes other books as well,’ said Daisy. ‘She’s always reading.’
‘Well then! What about History, or Classics? Or even English? It’s rather new, but I hear excellent things. And you, Daisy – why not Mathematics? Or Archaeology perhaps? It is a more respectable way of digging things up.’
‘Certainly not!’ cried Daisy. I knew she was thinking of her plans to set up the world’s greatest detective agency (President: the Honourable Daisy Wells).
‘All I ask is that you consider it,’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘I don’t like to see girls wasting their talents. You are both clever, that I can see. And if you have brains, you ought to use them. It isn’t good for women to be ignored and side-lined. Things may go along all right, for a while, but in the end there is always an explosion. Take Price, for example. I gave you into her charge because I’ve seen the way those Maudlin boys treat her. Even your brother, Daisy, takes her for granted. I think she’s got rather a pash on him, but of course that’s quite the wrong avenue to pursue. I can see that, but Price, it seems, cannot. She’s cleverer than the lot of them, stronger too. We had games to celebrate our thirtieth anniversary last month, and she won every medal there was. Shouldn’t wonder if she climbs too.’
‘Climbs?’ said Daisy sharply. Aunt Eustacia could not mean—
‘Oh, I’m sure Bertie will have told you about that secret society of theirs?’ asked Aunt Eustacia. ‘The youth all think the dons don’t know! As though we weren’t young once, and students ourselves. Who do they think were the climbers, before they arrived? Well, the women students have a society of their own. More daring than the men’s, though of course the men have never heard of it. If you want secrets kept, trust women to keep them.’
My mind was whirling. Here was confirmation of the very thing we had been suspecting – and from an unexpected source! I remembered how quickly Amanda had regained her breath after leaping off the Horse, the first time we met her. She was stocky, and strong, of course she was an athlete! Aunt Eustacia really was related to Daisy. She was just as sharp and noticing.
Daisy was sitting up very straight. ‘How fascinating!’ she said.
‘Indeed,’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘I do wish Price hadn’t got you all mixed up in the Maudlin accident. Stupid boys, playing pranks! Why did you go back there?’ She peered down her nose at us.
‘Er,’ said Daisy. ‘Bertie, of course. We were worried about him.’
‘And so you should be!’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘I’ve been worried about him, mixed up with those foolish Mellings. More money than sense – or Donald will have on Christmas Day. An odd family, that. Daisy, you ought to be glad we don’t have an entail. Sends all the relatives wild, imagining what would have to happen to leave them in control of the money. Now, Hazel, have you any siblings?’
‘I have two sisters,’ I said politely, skating over the exact truth that they are only my half-sisters, and that both our mothers are still alive and living in our father’s house. ‘Younger ones.’
‘Girls really are the best option,’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘I’m sure your father must have been upset not to have a boy, but really, they are more trouble than they’re worth. Look at my brother! He was wild. And his son – well! Speaking of Felix, Daisy, I got a telegram from him last week. He might be coming for Christmas dinner this year. Did he tell you so? Hope he doesn’t bring that actress he was carrying on with last year. She was most unsuitable. He needs a clever wife, otherwise he’ll get bored. I don’t know why some men think that they want to be married to idiots. Imagine the conversation around the dinner table! Dreadful.’
‘What? When will he be arriving?’ asked Daisy, rather breathlessly. ‘Tonight?’ Her eyes were shining.
‘Oh, he didn’t say,’ said Aunt Eustacia. ‘He never does. Now, who will have a piece of Christmas cake?’
She held out the plate, and Daisy took one gladly. After a pause, I did the same. I have never been quite sure about Christmas cake. The little buzz of almond to its icing always makes me think, quite foolishly, of cyanide. Daisy has taught me quite a lot about poisons since our second case, and I know that a taste of almonds means cyanide. Daisy knows it too, and relishes marzipan as a result. But as we ate, sitting next to the crackling fire, it only smelled of Christmas.
It was the twenty-fourth, I remembered, Christmas Eve – only a few hours until Donald’s birthday. How would we be able to solve the case by Christmas Day?
4
We went back to King Henry’s rooms, and I wrote all that last up in my casebook. Daisy sat at the window and watched the snow fall.
I nudged her, just as I had on the train. Could that only have been
two days ago?
‘I’m all right, Hazel!’ said Daisy. ‘I’m only thinking about the case. We now know that Amanda really is what we suspected her to be: a climber! We must watch her this evening, in case she should try something else. She is absolutely our best suspect, after Donald. Really, it’s just like Bertie to be friends with both Chummy and Amanda. What an idiot! How he managed to get himself mixed up with more death—’
‘But we’ve been mixed up with five murders now,’ I pointed out.
‘Yes, but we’re professionals,’ said Daisy, sounding for a moment as though she was the grown-up, and Bertie the child.
‘Are you going to dress for dinner?’ I asked.
‘Oh, what is the point?’ asked Daisy. ‘It’s not like Maudlin here. Imagine, this college is what we are supposed to want! Aunt E’s study may be nice, but you must admit that St Lucy’s as a whole is decidedly second-rate in comparison to Maudlin. And this might be our whole lives, if we let it. No thank you! I have decided that I do not need to go to university to become a consulting detective.’
‘Do you mean you don’t want to marry a lord, after all?’ I asked, smiling at her.
‘Don’t joke, Hazel,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m not marrying anyone. I keep trying to explain to you – men do not interest me. I’m not like you.’
I looked away. ‘I can’t help it!’ I said. ‘I wish I could.’
‘People are odd,’ said Daisy. ‘Why can’t you just be friends with Alexander, like I am with George? That isn’t complicated at all.’
‘You’re not like other people, Daisy,’ I said. ‘I don’t think George is, either.’
Mistletoe and Murder: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery Page 14
