Dance to Your Daddy (Mrs Bradley)

by Mitchell, Gladys

  ‘His story about the finding of the body is pretty fishy, don’t you think?’

  ‘I have an open mind about that. It is only fishy if he is the murderer, wouldn’t you say? And, of course, suspicion must rest on him if, as the servants think likely – I will not put it more strongly than that, although, of course, they did – neither Hubert nor Willoughby was invited to join the house-party.’

  ‘Could you make that a bit clearer, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes. I mean that, if they were not invited, why should Romilly insist that they were, and make such a point of not having had a letter of explanation to account for their non-appearance? But, to return to my previous point, surely a routine enquiry will unearth somebody as capable as Mr Hubert of identifying the body?’

  ‘I know you well enough to take as broad a hint as that, Dame Beatrice. Right! We’ll scrub the Reverend Hubert and find another witness. The lawyers can do that for us, most likely.’

  ‘I do not think you need trouble them. If it is Mr Willoughby, I have the witness you need in my own care.’

  ‘Miss Rosamund Lestrange, you mean, ma’am? I’d sooner find a man. I don’t think the corpse is something a young lady ought to be asked to identify. The doctors couldn’t make it look exactly pretty, you know, after the bashing it got on those rocks. No, we’ll find someone, all right. We’ll track down somebody on ths staff of the last hotel his grandfather stayed at. That should do the trick, I think. Mr Willoughby was Mr Felix Napoleon’s secretary until the old gentleman’s death, I think you said, so there will be a number of people in the Carlisle hotel who’ll remember him.’

  (2)

  ‘The police don’t accept Romilly’s identification of the body?’ said Judith. ‘But why not?’

  ‘The brothers were much alike, from what I remember of them,’ said Romilly, ‘and, of course, the face was in a dreadful mess. It would be easy enough to make a mistake, and, apparently, that is what I did. So Hubert is in Italy, is he? Oh, well, that settles it. Shall I still have to appear at the inquest?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, sir,’ said Kirkby. ‘The jury will want to hear about your discovery of the body.’

  ‘The jury? But this is a coroner’s court! It isn’t a court of justice!’

  ‘In cases of violent death, sir, the coroner sits with a jury composed of seven to eleven persons. Their verdict need not be unanimous, but can be accepted provided that the minority does not number more than two persons. That is the law as it stands at present.’

  ‘I don’t care about this idea of a jury. It seems to me to smack of the criminal courts.’

  ‘Well, those will have to come into it in due course, sir, won’t they? This was not an accidental death.’

  ‘Is that quite certain, though, Detective-Inspector? Those cliffs are very dangerous.’

  ‘You will hear the medical evidence at the inquest, sir.’

  ‘Well, Romilly,’ said Dame Beatrice, when Kirkby had gone, ‘it is as well that the mistake in identification was discovered in time, before the funeral took place. It is a grisly matter disinterring a corpse. What made you think it was Hubert?’

  ‘I had not seen Caesar’s boys except in the photographs he sent out to Kenya. I confused one with the other, that’s all. Are they bringing Hubert over here to identify the body, do you know?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Dame Beatrice obliquely. ‘There must be numbers of people who knew Willoughby.’

  She was aware of Romilly’s sigh of relief. She caught up with Kirkby. He was strolling towards the gates of Galliard Hall, outside which he had left the car which had brought him from Dorchester.

  ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Any signs of guilt?’

  ‘Nothing but signs of relief that he will not come face to face with Hubert at the inquest.’

  ‘Oh, well, families being what they are, that’s understandable, perhaps. It need not be a sign of guilt. Well, my next job is to find a reliable witness. The inquest is to be on Thursday, and it may have to be adjourned. It just depends upon what I can ferret out in the next couple of days, although I haven’t much hope at present of anything new turning up in such a short time. You’ll come along, I hope?’

  ‘Most certainly. Where will it be held?’

  ‘In the great hall of Galliard Hall itself. Mr Romilly has no objection to that, and it will be the most convenient place, as it is the only room in the neighbourhood, apart from a church hall, large enough for the purpose. I’ll hope to see you at ten o’clock on Thursday morning, then.’

  (3)

  Kirkby’s car was out of sight, and Dame Beatrice was about to enter her own, when a third car descended the long slope, a car which she recognised as that of her son Ferdinand. He was with his wife, and, with a wave of the hand to Dame Beatrice, he drove through the lodge gates and up to the house, presumably to carry out his assignment.

  ‘Drive to the top of the hill, George,’ said Dame Beatrice to her chaffeur, ‘and find a place where we can park the car off the road. We will wait for Sir Ferdinand. I hope that he may have something interesting to tell me.’

  George did as he was ordered, and they waited for the better part of an hour before Ferdinand’s car came round the bend of the narrow road and pulled up on the grass verge just in front of them. Ferdinand got out. Dame Beatrice lowered the back-seat window.

  ‘Give you lunch at Sandbanks, mother, and drop you at the Stone House afterwards,’ he said, when he came up.

  Dame Beatrice accepted this invitation, climbed into his car and left him to tell George to take her own car home.

  ‘Well?’ she said, when they were headed for Studland and the car ferry. ‘What of Romilly?’

  ‘Only that he isn’t. There is not the very faintest resemblance. This fellow is too tall, too old and doesn’t need glasses. I put my own on to look at the Raeburn, and he took a pair from its case, but put them back again and returned the case to his pocket. I received the impression that he was accustomed to produce them merely in order to demonstrate that he possessed a pair, which seems to indicate that he knows (or knew) the real Romilly.

  ‘He doesn’t know much about pictures, either. He didn’t know which was the Raeburn, for one thing. To test him, I went first to another picture – you had described the position of the Raeburn and had said that it was a portrait, and it was exactly as you had told me – and began to eulogise it, and then I produced a handwritten letter of introduction cooked up, as a matter of fact, by my clerk, and asked him whether he was prepared to sell. He read it without using his glasses, and then explained that the pictures were heirlooms, so then I went over and scrutinised the Raeburn and asked him whether it was one of his ancestors. He agreed that it was. I ventured to say that it was from Reynold’s best period, to which he agreed. Oh, there’s no doubt about it, mother. He’s an imposter all right. I wonder what’s happened to the real Romilly Lestrange?’

  (4)

  The coroner was a solicitor and he sat with a jury of seven, two of whom were women. Kirkby had found three unbiased and reliable witnesses who, shown the body separately and being given no chance to communicate with one another until all had expressed an opinion as to the identity of the dead man, had severally asserted that it was Willoughby Lestrange. Only one of them was needed to testify in court, so Kirkby had selected the hotel manager. His evidence was clear and unchallenged. The deceased, he stated, had been a guest in his hotel in Carlisle for some years and had left it soon after the demise of Mr Felix Napoleon Lestrange, who had employed Mr Willoughby as secretary and to whom he was distantly related. They were known at the hotel as Mr Lestrange and Mr Willoughby respectively, to avoid confusion.

  The manager was succeeded by Romilly, who gave evidence of the finding of the body. Judith was also called, as she had been with him at the time, and she substantiated his account. After this came the medical evidence. Doctor Gerald Randall was called.

  ‘You are Doctor Gerald Randall?’

  ‘That is my name.’

&nb
sp; ‘When did you see the body of the man whom you now know was Mr Willoughby Lestrange?’

  ‘I saw it, and examined it, on the afternoon of March 4th at about six-thirty.’

  ‘What, in your opinion, was the cause of death?’

  ‘I found that the deceased had been stabbed through the heart.’

  ‘Were there any other marks of violence on the body?’

  ‘Yes, but I formed the opinion that these had been inflicted after death had taken place. The head and limbs had been battered from having been in contact, I assumed, with the rocks among which, I understand, the body was found.’

  ‘Did you form any opinion as to the length of time the man had been dead?’

  ‘It is an opinion only, but I should say he had been dead for at least a week. I am not prepared to be more specific than that.’

  ‘He could not have been dead for a lesser time than that? – say, three to four days?’

  ‘To the best of my knowledge and belief, he had been dead for not less than a week, but not as long as a fortnight. The neck and face were discoloured and swollen, and the body, I was told, had been found floating. These symptoms occur when a body has been found in water in cold weather, between five and eight days after death. I am inclined to suggest the longer period, as decomposition of the trunk, with little distension, was already apparent.’

  ‘You conducted an autopsy?’

  ‘I did, with the assistance of my colleague, Mr Percy Mansel, the surgeon, who agrees with my findings.’

  ‘I do not think we need call him, although I understand that he is available. Now, Doctor, I note that you do not rule out the possibility of suicide. However, that is a matter over which I need not detain you. Call Detective-Inspector Kirkby.’

  Kirkby was sworn and agreed that he was the person he represented himself to be.

  ‘Now, Detective-Inspector, I understand that you are making some enquiries as to how Mr Willoughby Lestrange met his death. You have heard the medical evidence. Have you any comment to make, as a result of your investigations?’

  ‘No, sir, except to say that, at first, the body was wrongly identified.’

  ‘Wrongly identified? By whom?’

  ‘By Mr Romilly Lestrange, sir. He was mistaken in thinking that the body was that of the deceased’s brother, the Reverend Hubert Lestrange.’

  ‘Dear me! That seems to have been a strange error. Perhaps we had better recall Mr Romilly Lestrange, so, if you would stand down for a few minutes, Detective-Inspector, we will hear you again when we have heard what Mr Romilly has to say.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  ‘Call Mr Romilly Lestrange. Now, sir, remember that you are still under oath. Can you tell us why you should have thought that the deceased was the Reverend Hubert Lestrange?’

  ‘I can’t really say. I had not seen either of my nephews, except in photographs, as I had been living abroad for some years.’

  ‘Why, though, did you suppose the dead man to be Mr Hubert, and not Mr Willoughby?’

  ‘I was expecting them both to visit me, and I thought it more likely, when I found the body, that an absent-minded clergyman would have taken a wrong turning to my house and fallen over the cliff, than that a business-like young man, such as a secretary, would have done so.’

  ‘Had you any reason to think that Mr Hubert was absent-minded?’

  ‘It is a thing one connects with scholars and clergymen.’

  ‘You thought, then, that the deceased had missed his way and fallen over the cliff?’

  ‘Yes, it was the obvious thing to think.’

  ‘What did you do, after you had found the body?’

  ‘I returned to my car and drove to the nearest coast-guard station.’

  ‘Were you present when the body was recovered?’

  ‘Yes, I came back with assistance, and pointed out where the body was lying.’

  ‘Did you do anything more?’

  ‘Oh, I knew that the doctor would see to anything that was necessary. The police sent for Dr Randall at once, of course, and he had the body moved to the infirmary, where Detective-Inspector Kirkby saw it.’

  ‘But you still did not realise that the death was not accidental, but was caused by suicide or murder?’

  ‘No, of course I did not realise it. There was no reason, so far as I knew, for one of my nephews to commit suicide, particularly as I was still convinced that the body was that of Hubert, to whom, with his beliefs, suicide would have been a deadly sin, and one hardly thinks of one’s close relatives being murdered.’

  ‘Suicide is indeed a “deadly” sin. I think we may agree with you there. When you heard that the body had received a stab wound, what were your reactions?’

  ‘Until much later, I had no idea in what form death had taken place, except that I concluded it was either from the fall from the cliffs or by drowning. It was a great surprise to me, and I may say a considerable shock, when I knew that Detective-Inspector Kirkby was treating the case as one of murder. He has haunted my house continually since I reported the discovery of the body, but gave me no details as to the cause of death. I had assumed, of course, that it was accidental.’

  ‘You have heard now that death was the result of a wound caused by stabbing.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you pick up a sword which you found lying in the grass on the cliffs above the part of the coast known as Dancing Ledge?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you show it to the police?’

  ‘Yes. I thought it might be dangerous if children got hold of it.’

  ‘Did you recognise it as being your property?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t belong to me.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Lestrange. Call Marlene Cobb.’

  This woman was Romilly’s cook. The sword was handed to her.

  ‘Do you recognise this weapon?’

  ‘That I do.’

  ‘You have seen it before, then?’

  ‘Ah, at Christmas time.’

  ‘Under what circumstances, Mrs Cobb?’

  ‘Beg pardon?’

  ‘Why do you relate this sword to Christmas time?’

  ‘Because the master cut the cake with it. Very lively and many goings-on had there been atween him and Mrs Judith, so-calling herself housekeeper, and very blaspheemious he was.’

  ‘Indeed? What do you mean by that?’

  ‘He told me to ice the cake with the words, “The family, God bless ’em,” which I done.’

  ‘That doesn’t – that is not blasphemous, is it?’

  ‘No, but after the goings-on – something shocking they was – he cuts the cake with this ’ere knife what you’re showing me, and as he does it he gives a kind of a nasty giggle and he says, “I come not to bring peace, but a sword.” Wouldn’t you call that blaspheemious?’

  ‘And you are certain that this is the same sword? How can you be sure?’

  ‘Because I be sure. That’s how.’

  ‘Well,’ said the coroner, when Marlene Cobb had been dismissed, ‘I will now ask the jury to retire and consider their verdict, reminding them that this is primarily an enquiry into the cause of death. It is not a criminal court.’

  ‘Might I ask a question?’ said a woman juror. ‘There is a point I’d like to clear up. The defendant – I mean Mr Lestrange – identified the body as that of the Reverend Hubert. Isn’t it equally likely that Mr Rose, the hotel manager, is mistaken in thinking it was Mr Willoughby? I mean, it’s simply one word against another, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mr Rose is not unsupported in his assumption, madam. Two members of his staff have asserted, independently of him and of one another, that the body is that of Mr Willoughby. Moreover, Mr Romilly is prepared to agree that the mistake was his,’ said Kirkby.

  The verdict of the jury was unanimous and was never in doubt. As he left the court, Romilly found himself touched on the shoulder by Kirkby.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said the latter, ‘but I’m afraid I shall have to ask y
ou to come with me. There will be a formal charge, and you have the right to ask for your lawyer to be present.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Zapatos—Goody Two-Shoes

  ‘And he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him!’

  Henry IV, Part 2.

  * * *

  (1)

  At the police station Romilly was formally charged and two days later he was brought before a magistrate who, in view of the nature of the charge, was sitting alone, and the examination was held in private, reporters and the general public being excluded.

  The charge was read, and then Kirkby said:

  ‘If it please Your Worship, the police ask that the accused may be remanded for two weeks pending further enquiries.’

  ‘Remanded in custody, you mean?’

  ‘In view of the nature of the charge, yes, Your Worship.’

  ‘What reason have you for asking that the prisoner be remanded?’

  ‘As I stated, Your Worship, the police wish to make further enquiries into this case. We hope to have further evidence available at the next hearing.’

  The magistrate, who was a woman, glanced across at Romilly’s solicitor, but he made no sign.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘but first I should wish to hear the evidence upon which the defendant has been brought here.’

  The evidence, given in the usual police-court parrot-utterance, did not seem particularly impressive.

  ‘You accuse him of murder, and of giving a false identification of the dead person, do you, Detective-Inspector?’

  ‘Yes, Your Worship, of deliberately making a misleading statement on the second matter, with intent to defeat the ends of justice.’

  ‘And he was the person who discovered the body?’

  ‘Under what we believe to be suspicious circumstances, Your Worship. There seems to be good reason to suppose that the accused wanted the victim out of the way, and that is the line along which we should like to acquire more evidence. Further to that, the accused has stated, in front of witnesses, that he believes his own life to be in danger. If he is right …’