Impasse. Adam drew in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly.
‘I can’t delay going for the police much longer. They’ll want to question us all about who she is and how her body was found, then there will be a post-mortem. We might not face the sorts of questions we’re anticipating until after that. Perhaps not at all if there turns out to be a simple explanation for her death.’
I wondered how he thought there could be, but didn’t say so. I was impressed in spite of myself by the way he was trying to keep in control of himself and us.
‘If there is a simple explanation, then we might very much regret anything we’d said to throw unjust suspicion on Felicia and increase her suffering. After all, attempted suicide is a crime. Of course, it could only be an assumption that she was attempting any such thing.’
‘That’s quite true.’
‘So the police will want to know how you came to find the girl’s body and about her staying at the Scipian camp…’ (Neat, I thought, keep it away from the family.) ‘… but unless you bring up the subject, they’ll have no reason to question you about anything involving my brother or Felicia.’
‘So,’ I said, ‘you’re suggesting that we conceal Daniel’s two engagements, Miss Foster’s probable attempt to shoot herself and the fact that I handed over a revolver to Daniel?’
Conceal something else, too, something that only I knew about. Six words from a woman almost dissolving from fear and grief. ‘I had a gun, didn’t I?’ It felt like a theft even to have heard them, and the last thing I wanted to do was to pass them on to the police.
‘I’m not suggesting we should keep anything from the police, only that we should be careful to tell them only what is strictly necessary to—’
As Adam was speaking, a face appeared in the mirror behind him. A pale face, desperate looking, surrounded by wild dark curls. I noticed it first because I was facing the mirror. It took me a second to realise that I was seeing a reflection from the window behind us. I turned and there was Daniel, mouthing something, jiggling at the closed window catch. Adam had seen him too by then and stopped what he was saying. He looked scared. I think we all were, as if letting him in would bring some new horror. Carol recovered first. She got up, released the catch, opened the window.
‘Daniel, where have you been?’
‘What’s happened? What are you all doing up?’
Daniel squeezed through the narrow window frame and into the room, looking for a moment horribly like the creeping Long Lankin in the carving. Then he noticed me and some of the alarm went out of his eyes.
‘Oh so that’s what it’s about, is it? You went and got caught after all.’ Then, to his family, ‘For goodness sake, don’t make such a performance about it. It’s only a picture. Listen, I’ve got something a lot more important to tell you. Seeing as you’re up anyway, you might as well hear it together.’
He was keyed-up, unstoppable. Adam stood up, took a step towards him.
‘Daniel, hold on. If you say something now you might regret—’
‘Regret? It’s all regrets. I’ve made a god-awful mess of things and the only thing I can do now is make a clean breast of it and—’
‘Daniel!’
Adam actually tried to grab his brother but Daniel sidestepped him with a dancer’s quickness and took up position on the rug in front of the fireplace.
‘Listen, everybody. I’ve behaved like an idiot. I wanted to help Daisy, but I was wrong to do it at the expense of Felicia. So I’m going to wake Felicia up and tell her that if she’ll have me, the engagement’s on again.’
We were staring at him, speechless. Adam was frozen, the hand he’d reached out to grab Daniel fallen back at his side.
‘Well, don’t look at me like that,’ Daniel said. ‘It was what you all wanted, wasn’t it? And you’ve got Miss Bray to thank. She made me see what I was doing. She told me … told me about something Felicia might have been thinking of and—’
‘Daniel, will you please listen.’
Adam had found his voice at last, but Daniel swept on.
‘I still care about Daisy. She’s not going back to that hovel and that awful family, whatever happens. We’ll find her a place to live—’
‘Daisy’s dead.’
Adam flung it at him, not being able to stop him any other way. Even then, Daniel was so intent on what he was saying that he didn’t take it in at first.
‘… get her qualified as a music or dance teacher – What did you say?’
‘She’s dead. Daisy’s dead.’
He just stared, mouth open, eyes blank. Then, ‘How? What happened?’
Nobody said anything. He started swaying where he stood. ‘No, no, no,’ he said.
Adam went over to him, put an arm round his shoulder and walked him away to the far end of the room. Daniel went as unresistingly as a puppet. An upholstered bench stood against the far wall, in half shadow away from the lamplight. Adam let him slump down there and sat beside him. The brothers’ heads were close together and Adam was talking in a low voice, out of our hearing.
Oliver looked at Carol, scared and fretful. ‘What’s he saying to him? What’s happening?’
She didn’t answer. We were all poleaxed with weariness. A clock struck, low and mellow from the mantelpiece. Three o’clock. The sky outside was still dark. From the other end of the room, the murmuring went on. When I glanced that way, Daniel’s head was down and he was moving it from side to side, but there was no way of telling whether that meant disagreement or bewilderment. It was half an hour before they came back to us, Daniel walking on his own now but tentatively, as if he didn’t trust the floor under his feet.
Adam said, ‘I’m taking the gig and going to tell the police. We can’t put it off any longer.’
‘Down to the police house?’ Carol asked.
‘No, this isn’t a matter for the village bobby. I’ll go straight into Chipping Norton and tell them at the police station.’ Adam looked at me. ‘When the police come, it’s up to each of us what we tell them.’ But he’d made his opinion clear enough, and his eyes told me what he expected.
‘I’d better go and find my friend,’ I said. ‘On your way to the police, perhaps you’d be kind enough to drop her off at the railway station.’ Just a nod from him, an agreement sealed almost before I knew I’d made a decision.
* * *
Bobbie didn’t like it. I found her in the kitchen, sitting at the big scrubbed wooden table, drinking tea with Annie and the cook. From the way they had their heads together when I came in I knew they’d been deep in conversation. I took Bobbie outside to the corridor.
‘Mr Venn’s taking you to the junction,’ I said. ‘With luck, there’ll be a train back to town in a couple of hours. Don’t ask him any questions.’
‘Am I taking the Bessie Broadbeam with me?’
‘No. Forget about her.’
By now the picture was so far from my mind that I’d forgotten we’d left it propped up in the studio.
‘I don’t see the point, then. I might as well wait until the police get here.’
I tried to keep a hold on my temper. My doubts about what I was doing made it difficult to take the firm line needed in dealing with Bobbie.
‘There’s nothing for you to tell them. I saw and heard everything that you did.’
‘I’ve been thinking, if Daisy and Daniel Venn had an arrangement that she’d come to meet him and—’
I could have throttled her. ‘Why in the world should she have come to meet him?’
‘Well, they were engaged, weren’t they and—’
‘How did you hear about that?’
‘Annie and the cook were talking about it. Apparently there was this fearful row when he announced it because he was engaged to the other woman and…’
It was dawning on me how impossible it would be for Adam to keep this hidden. Still, I did my best.
‘Things are bad enough without gossip. I’d strongly suggest that you don’t
repeat it and you say as little as possible about anything that’s happened here to anyone.’
I was almost past caring about the Venn family. What mattered was getting Bobbie off the premises.
‘But there’ll have to be a court case, won’t there?’
‘Yes. And if you stay here you’ll end up in dock on a charge of attempted burglary, or in the witness box in a murder case. Or possibly both. Is that what you want?’
‘I shouldn’t mind.’
‘Well your mother would, and your aunt.’ (Emmeline too, but I hardly dared think about what she’d say.) ‘I suppose you’ll have to tell them something. You can say that you delivered the picture to me as arranged, then somebody in the Venn household got killed and I said you must go home. That’s true at least, as far as it goes. Apart from that, don’t talk about it any more than you have to.’
Normally I’d have hesitated in coaching a young woman in concealing things, but Bobbie was a special case.
‘But what will happen to you?’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m older than you. I can deal with it.’ I’d serious doubts about that, but luckily Bobbie didn’t seem to hear them in my voice. She sighed.
‘If you’re sure…’
‘I’m sure. You’d better get out on the steps and wait for the gig.’
* * *
Perhaps it took Adam a long time to wake up the groom, because the sky was getting light by the time the gig came round to the front of the house. It was going to be another fine day, the air warm, a cock crowing. Bobbie scrambled up beside Adam and I watched them going away down the drive, relieved that one problem was out of the way at least. I went back into the house and found Carol waiting at the foot of the stairs.
‘Daniel wanted to see her. I couldn’t stop him.’
I didn’t know whether she meant sleeping Felicia or dead Daisy, but her face gave me the answer.
‘He pulled the cover back, took her hand and kissed it. Now he’s gone to his room.’
She was much less hostile to me than Adam. Looking after Felicia together seemed to have brought us close in a short time, almost as if we were family. I offered to go up and see if Felicia needed anything and she said she’d come with me. I wondered if that was simple need for companionship or whether she wouldn’t run the risk of Felicia waking up and saying something to me unguardedly. She wasn’t to know that it was too late already. When we opened the door and looked in Felicia had turned on her side but was sleeping peacefully. Carol closed the door and took a long breath, looked down at her dressing gown and bare feet.
‘She’s all right for the while, then. I suppose I’d better go and get dressed before the police get here. Do ask Annie for some coffee or anything else you’d like.’
Left alone in the big house, I went back to the room where we’d had our discussion. It felt rancid with all the talking and the smell of the lamps, the furniture smeared with our plotting and bargaining. Because that was what we’d been doing, no getting away from it. We could claim it was in a good cause – or at least in the cause of not making a bad situation even worse – but it didn’t feel good to me. I went round turning out the lamps and opened the windows wide to let some air in. Full light now, roses waving in a dawn breeze. How long before the police got here? Would Bobbie be on a train soon? When I turned back into the room, Annie was already there with a tray of coffee.
‘Should I take some up to Mr Venn?’
Asking me, a stranger. A picture robber. I said leave it for a while, sat down and poured myself a strong cupful. I was hardly halfway down it when Oliver Venn walked in.
‘Good morning, Miss Bray. Is that coffee I smell?’
He’d managed a miracle and turned himself back into the rounded and confident little man he’d seemed when I first met him. Or almost. He’d changed into a freshly laundered shirt and a dark brown linen suit, a white silk cravat at his throat, eyes rinsed and bright, tonsure of grey hair carefully combed. But he couldn’t stop his hand from trembling a little when I handed him a cup of coffee. The skin on the back of the hand was thin and tight-stretched, pied with brown liver spots. He gave me a wan smile of thanks and settled himself in an armchair.
I said, ‘Did Daniel give you back Philomena’s revolver yesterday evening?’
I hadn’t intended to come out with it like that, but his resilience annoyed me. I couldn’t forget that he’d used his charm and nice manners to deceive me once already. He stared at me, eyes hurt, slopping coffee.
‘Why do you ask me that, Miss Bray?’
‘Because the police are going to be asking us all about that revolver sooner or later, and we’d better have our stories ready.’
‘I have no story, as you put it, Miss Bray. I simply have no notion what happened to poor Philomena’s gun. Until this appalling business, I’d even forgotten she possessed one.’
‘Where was it kept?’
He blinked. ‘In the drawer of the bureau in my study, I believe. I have a vague memory that Philomena asked me to take it some years ago. She used to keep it in her glove drawer, but apparently the oil on it made her gloves smell unpleasant.’
He wrinkled his neat little nose at the thought of it.
‘Have you checked if it’s in your bureau now?’
He shook his head.
‘Not checked, or not there?’
‘The latter.’
He admitted it reluctantly, voice low.
‘And Daniel didn’t give it to you or say anything about it to you yesterday evening?’
‘No. Why should he? Why should Daniel be talking to me about guns?’ He was indignant and it was a fair point. Daniel had believed, because of what I’d told him, that Felicia had taken his aunt’s gun to kill herself. If he’d given it back to his Uncle Oily he’d have had to explain why, which would have been another betrayal of Felicia. The sensible thing would have been to lock it up somewhere until things calmed down. But had Daniel been in any condition to be sensible? I needed to talk to Daniel before the police arrived, but could hardly barge into his room.
Oliver and I sat in silence, drinking our coffee. After a while, Carol came in. She’d changed into her damson-coloured dress with a black jacket over it. As it happened, the colour of the dress matched exactly the tired crescents under her eyes, but I don’t suppose she’d chosen it with that in mind. Her crinkly hair was screwed into a tight knot at the back of her head. Oliver’s eyes went to her and I could see the relief in them, probably because he knew she’d protect him from me.
‘How is Daniel, my dear?’
‘Pacing up and down his room. I could hear him, but I didn’t go in. I think he’s best left to himself until Adam gets back.’
We were on to our third pot of coffee and the garden had warmed up and was beginning to spread its scents into the room by the time we heard wheels on the gravel. Oliver gave a little shiver then stood up and went to meet his guests, Carol following him. There were heavy official boots in the hall outside, deep voices speaking staccato words with Oliver’s lighter twitterings underneath them. Asking, I shouldn’t have been surprised, if they’d had a good journey and would they like some lemonade. I stayed where I was, regretting a lot of things.
Chapter Eleven
AS I SAT THERE I HEARD the murmur of voices and heavy feet in the studio next door. They’d want to see Daisy’s body first. Adam must have given them some account of what had happened before they left the police station. A long half-hour passed then Adam came into the room with a police officer behind him, an inspector. He was a big broad-shouldered man, nearly a head taller than Adam. He stared at me. It wasn’t a hostile look exactly, but it wasn’t reassuring either. His grey eyes were watchful and his otherwise clean-shaven face had a tuft of bristles on one cheek, as if he’d been summoned from his home in a hurry. I’d expected them to start questioning members of the family before getting round to me and felt off balance.
‘Miss Bray, I’m Inspector William Bull. I gather that you disc
overed the body of the deceased. I’d be grateful if you could spare us a few minutes of your time.’
Sarcastic too. He must have known I’d been sitting there waiting. Not a countryman’s voice. At a guess, he’d started his career in Birmingham, although only the trace of an accent was there. An ambitious man, I thought, pleased rather than disconcerted by a murder in his area. Later I found out that he came from headquarters in Oxford and had happened to be seconded to the Chipping Norton station working on another case. He was in his mid-thirties and probably set on being a superintendent by the time he was forty. Not being a country man he showed no particular deference to landowning families like the Venns.
‘Certainly,’ I said.
I expected him to sit down at the other side of the coffee table, but he stayed where he was.
‘Upstairs, if you wouldn’t mind.’
Adam stood aside to let me through the door. I gave him a long look as I passed, trying to pick up any message from his expression, but saw nothing there but concern. The inspector said ‘Excuse me’, very politely, as an apology for preceding me up the main staircase. I followed him along the corridor, through a doorway and up another staircase to a room that must have been directly above Oliver Venn’s study. It looked like an architect’s afterthought, small and narrow with a long window giving a view of the gravel sweep outside the front door. The furniture was solid schoolroom stuff, with none of the elegance of the rest of the house, a battered table with three upright chairs round it, a bookcase stuffed with dusty books, most of them on property and company law. A constable, young and round-faced, got up from his chair as I came in. The inspector, still too polite for comfort, pulled out another chair for me, facing the window, and settled himself opposite me.
‘Now, Miss Bray, would you be kind enough to give us your full name and address?’
The constable had a notebook and pencil and wrote down painstakingly Eleanor Rebecca and the rest.
‘I understand from Mr Venn that you recognised the deceased as a Miss Daisy Smith. Was she an acquaintance of yours?’
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