The Murder of Busy Lizzie mb-46

by Gladys Mitchell

  ‘Come into my office, Mr Lovelaine,’ said Miss Crimp, showing her teeth in what might be taken for a smile. ‘It is better not to discuss the matter in public, and these intrusive naturalists are everywhere.’

  ‘Well, we’ll be seeing you, Father,’ said Margaret. ‘We’re going down to bathe.’

  ‘Be careful, then, and make sure the tide is not going out,’ said Marius. He passed through the flap which Miss Crimp opened for him and followed her to the back of the reception office to a smaller room where the floor-space was mostly taken up by a large desk and an armchair.

  ‘Please sit down,’ she said, indicating the armchair and herself taking the swivel chair with which the desk was furnished.

  ‘Mr Lovelaine, I am deeply concerned that Eliza should absent herself like this if she was really expecting you.’

  ‘What do you mean—really expecting us? She invited us, as I told you, and asked us to put in a month here.’

  ‘Yes. Have you her letter with you?’

  ‘Of course I have not. I merely accepted her offer of accommodation (and at the price she suggested) and threw her letter into the waste-paper basket, so far as I remember. I saw no occasion to keep it, once the arrangements were made.’

  ‘You say you accepted her offer? By letter, do you mean?’

  ‘Certainly by letter. How else? She wrote again and confirmed my booking.’

  ‘I suppose you have not brought that letter with you, either?’

  ‘Miss Crimp, I do not understand you. Your tone is, to say the least of it, strange.’

  ‘Well, Mr Lovelaine, I have to tell you that I searched our files after your unexpected arrival, and I can find no trace of this correspondence.’

  ‘No trace of it? But why should there be any trace of it? Lizzie probably threw away my letter just as I threw away hers. The only letters one keeps, surely, are receipted bills and other such business correspondence.’

  ‘But this was business correspondence, Mr Lovelaine. I say nothing about Eliza’s first letter to you. That would probably have had no carbon copy attached, as it would have been a private matter, no doubt. But the acceptance you say you wrote should have been filed, since it contained evidence of a definite booking of rooms for a definite date and period, and there should also be a record of Eliza’s second letter in which you say she confirmed the date of your booking. Eliza is not only a busy woman, as anybody who owns a hotel must necessarily be, but she is also a businesslike one, and she would certainly have filed such a letter.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that the correspondence exists only in my imagination, Miss Crimp?’

  ‘Oh, certainly not, Mr Lovelaine. Of course I meant nothing of that kind!’

  ‘Then what, exactly, is the purport of your remarks?’

  ‘May I be quite frank?’

  ‘That question usually emanates from someone who intends to be rather rude,’ said Marius, with an uneasy smile.

  ‘Oh, no, not at all. At least, I hope you won’t think me rude, Mr Lovelaine. I am wondering, quite simply, what made you decide to come here at all. I must believe, since you say it is so, that Eliza invited you, but why did you accept the invitation?’

  ‘That is hardly your business, Miss Crimp. However, as you ask the question, you shall have an answer. I was pleased and relieved to hear from Lizzie again after all these years. I was not much more than a child when she left home as a result of a quarrel with our parents and became companion to this eccentric Miss Chayleigh, and the next I heard was that Miss Chayleigh had died and had left her this house and a good deal of money. My parents were dead by that time and it fell to me to examine my father’s effects. Among them I found a triumphant, spiteful letter from Lizzie (and I do not blame her for writing as she did, because I think my parents had really treated her very badly in causing her to have to turn out and fend for herself) in which she informed him of her good fortune, said that she was going into the hotel business and listed the improvements she was going to make. I wrote to inform her that our parents were dead, congratulated her on her inheritance and, of course, headed the letter with my own address. This was ten years ago.’

  ‘And she did not write back to you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, she acknowledged the letter, but in no very friendly spirit, and I heard nothing more until, round about Easter of this year, I received the letter and brochure which seem to be the main subject of this conversation.’

  ‘And she actually suggested that you should come here?’

  ‘She did, and in quite warm terms.’

  ‘Then what has happened to the correspondence? I was told nothing about your booking, neither (as I told you) has Eliza entered it up. All I can think is that she never received your letter of acceptance.’

  ‘But she must have done! She confirmed it, I tell you,’ said Marius, pardonably exasperated. ‘She wrote back at once and said that she would be delighted to see me and the children, and that she was sorry my wife could not come with us.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s it, then. But what on earth is keeping her on the mainland? She knew all these naturalists had booked in. She must realise that I cannot be expected to cope alone with such an influx.’

  ‘One would think so. Oh, well, I suppose she will have to leave it now until Wednesday.’

  ‘Not necessarily. It would not be a difficult passage for a local boatman to make, and we have a working arrangement with Dimbleton.’

  ‘I see. Well, Miss Crimp, I cannot feel that this has been a very satisfactory conversation. My children and I will be prepared to stay until Wednesday morning, but, if Lizzie has not returned by then, I feel we have no reason to prolong our stay.’

  ‘Oh, but, Mr Lovelaine, you have made a firm booking for four weeks!’

  ‘The evidence for which, on your own showing, does not exist.’

  ‘But I have allocated rooms to you! I have had to refuse other applications!’

  ‘You cannot have it both ways, Miss Crimp,’ said Marius, returning with her to the outer office. ‘We must both hope that Lizzie will be here by Wednesday, if not before. My only reason for coming here was to see her. If she is not to be seen, well, I shall have carried out my part of the bargain. The rest is up to her.’

  ‘Tell me, Mr Sebastian,’ said Miss Crimp, when Sebastian claimed the key of his chalet, ‘does your father really intend to cancel his booking if your aunt does not arrive here by the Wednesday boat?’

  ‘First I’ve heard of it,’ said Sebastian.

  ‘Well, I have had a conversation with him this morning, and such appears to be his intention. I must point out to you that I need definite assurance as to whether he is or is not staying on. I have already refused applications for accommodation and if his room and your chalet are to be vacated I need to be informed.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but it’s no business of mine. You don’t expect me to open the subject with him, do you?’ Sebastian stared aggressively at a woman whom, from the outset, he had decided he did not like.

  ‘I thought, perhaps, over luncheon,’ said Miss Crimp uncertainly, somewhat taken aback by this unexpected attitude in so young a man, ‘you could possibly—’

  ‘Then you must think again, mustn’t you?’ said Sebastian, smiling unpleasantly at her. At lunch, however, he took it upon himself to broach the subject.

  ‘What’s this bee in the bonnet Connie Crimp seems to have got hold of, Father?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course, her name is Constance,’ said his father, ‘but is it quite the thing—?’

  ‘For me to call her by it? Well, of course, I don’t, to her face. But what is all this about our leaving on Wednesday if Aunt Eliza doesn’t show up?’

  ‘Well, I should have thought the situation was obvious. We came here to see your aunt. If she does not choose to make herself available to us, I see no point in extending an expensive holiday.’

  ‘Oh, dear! Just as Maggie and I were beginning to enjoy ourselves so much!’

  ‘You real
ly like it here?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Father,’ said Margaret eagerly. ‘We do like it here. We like it very much indeed, and we haven’t explored a quarter of the island yet.’

  ‘Oh, well, if you like it so much…’

  ‘Even supposing you decided to leave, father,’ said Sebastian, striking while the iron was hot, ‘couldn’t Maggie and I stay? It will give us the peace and quiet we need to do some holiday reading, and the fact that we’ve got a chalet will give us the privacy we must have.’

  ‘Well,’ said Marius, ‘that is all very well, but, for my own part, I feel I must make a gesture. It is most remiss of your aunt to absent herself for a whole week of our stay when, in the first place, we should never have come had it not been for her letter. She asked us to come, and now she deserts us in this extraordinary way.’

  ‘A bit of a score for Boobie if we slink back with that sort of tale,’ said Sebastian. ‘Anyway, you won’t take any steps until Wednesday, will you?’

  ‘Not unless I decide to hire a boat privately at no doubt an extortionate charge. No, we shall be here until the Wednesday passengers are landed. If your aunt is not among them, we return by that or by Thursday’s vessel. I trust that you will have explored the rest of the island by then.’

  ‘And if we haven’t?’

  ‘Time to think of that when the time comes, my boy.’

  ‘If Aunt Eliza is not on the Wednesday boat, I should imagine you’ll begin to feel a bit worried about her, Father, won’t you?’ said Margaret.

  ‘Worried?’ said Marius, as though the idea was a strange one. ‘Why should I be worried? She surely will return by the Wednesday boat. If not, there will be a letter. If neither, then I think we shall be fully justified in returning home, booking or no booking. Besides,’ he added, ‘if your aunt had been taken ill or had met with an accident, Miss Crimp would most certainly have been informed by now. Worried?’ He examined the thought and then dismissed it. ‘Oh, nonsense! There is nothing to worry about.’

  ‘She may have repented of her offer of the olive branch,’ said Sebastian, ‘and be depending on you to do as you have threatened. It seems she’s only got to lie low long enough if she wants to send us packing.’

  ‘There is no reason to suppose that she has changed her mind, my boy. If she had, she would have written to me long ago. However, we will allow Wednesday to decide the issue for us.’

  ‘One thing we could find out, if you like, Father,’ said Sebastian. ‘When we were over at the farm on Friday the farmer and his wife weren’t there. Ransome told us that Miss Crimp had sent them over to the mainland to remind Aunt Eliza about the army of bird-watchers and tell her to get back on yesterday’s boat, whatever happened.’

  ‘Oh, really? They do not seem to have carried out their commission, then.’

  ‘Would you care to have us go over to the farm and question them, Father?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘Good heavens, no! As I said before, if your aunt had met with any mishap, we should have been informed by now.’

  ‘I wonder how long she usually stays away on these jaunts?’ said Sebastian.

  An enquiry at the desk elucidated this point.

  ‘A week and a half at the most, and I only remember that happening once before,’ Miss Crimp replied. ‘On that occasion she had to go to London to see her solicitors and took the opportunity of doing some personal shopping and going to a theatre and so forth. But at that time the hotel was very quiet and she knew that I could cope. This is rather different. Of course I suppose I can hold the fort if I must, but I still think she is being most selfish and inconsiderate. She should have been back long before this.’

  For the first time Marius looked concerned as well as indignant.

  ‘I suppose nothing can have happened to her?’ he said doubtfully.

  ‘We should have been notified. She had documents in her handbag which would prove her identity if she had met with an accident. Of course she did not want the trouble of accommodating all these naturalists, any more than I did, but she said it would have been foolish to turn away their money. And now she goes off like this and leaves me to manage. I think it is too bad of her!’

  ‘We heard the hotel was in debt,’ murmured Sebastian, who had accompanied his father to the desk. Miss Crimp caught the murmured words.

  ‘In debt?’ she said, indignantly. ‘Who has been spreading lies of that sort? The hotel is flourishing.’

  ‘Well, last night’s fish wasn’t,’ said Sebastian coolly. ‘It hadn’t flourished for quite some considerable time.’

  This statement had the most extraordinary effect on Miss Crimp. Her pale eyes widened and she opened and closed her mouth as though she herself was one of the fish in question.

  ‘You must complain to the head-waiter,’ she said, recovering.

  ‘I did, and received two very tired pilchards in exchange.’

  ‘I was saying,’ said Miss Crimp, ignoring Sebastian and again addressing his father, ‘that, if anything had happened to Eliza, I should have heard.’

  ‘What report did you receive from the people at the farm?’

  ‘What people at what farm?’

  ‘I understood that you had asked them to cross to the mainland last Friday and tell Eliza to hurry back.’

  ‘Oh, that? You have the facts slightly distorted, Mr Lovelaine. Mr Cranby and his wife were going over to do some ordering for themselves and, as usual, they very kindly sent to ask whether I had any commissions I wished executed. I mentioned Eliza and they promised to look out for her on the quay on their return journey, that is all.’

  ‘I see. Well, if I may repeat my question, what report did you receive from them?’

  ‘None. I assume they did not run into Eliza.’

  ‘We were told they had been briefed by you to find my aunt and ask her to return at once,’ said Sebastian.

  ‘That is absurd. Eliza is the senior partner. I do not give orders as to what she is or is not to do.’

  ‘From what I remember of my sister,’ said Marius, with a slight smile, ‘I doubt whether it would be of much use if you did.’ His expression altered. ‘I shall be glad to see her for several reasons,’ he added, ‘not least to find out why my booking, which was completely arranged for by letter, does not appear in your records.’

  Miss Crimp snorted and turned away from him.

  ‘I don’t like that woman,’ said Sebastian to his father, as they walked back to the lounge. ‘What are you going to do with yourself today, Father?’

  ‘I think,’ said Marius, ‘that I shall give myself the pleasure of calling upon Dame Beatrice at Puffins.’

  ‘Will she welcome visitors, Father?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘I can but send in my card, my dear. How do the two of you propose to occupy your time?’

  ‘Oh, we have a good deal of the island to explore yet. We’ve done the east side pretty throughly, but we don’t know so much about the west cliffs or the southern end, west of the landing stage,’ replied Sebastian.

  ‘I see. Er… I don’t propose to dictate your movements in any way, of course, but I do not think you should become too friendly with Ransome Lovelaine.’

  ‘Oh, why not, Father? He’s a very nice man,’ said Margaret, ‘and you surely can’t hold his parentage against him?’

  ‘I hold nothing against him, my dear, and I am sure he is an estimable fellow. However, too close an acquaintanceship with him at this juncture might prove an embarrassment later on.’

  ‘Oh, but why?’ asked Sebastian. ‘I mean, let’s face it, Father. The object of our coming here, as I understood it, was to ingratiate ourselves with Aunt Eliza in the hope of benefits to come. Well, I must say it now appears to me that there won’t be any benefits so far as our family is concerned. Ransome and his father are the people on the spot and are quite evidently in favour with Aunt Eliza. Then there is Miss Crimp, a shareholder in the hotel. Ransome is a thoroughly decent fellow and we should like to pursue the acquaintanceship with no st
rings attached to it. We have nothing either to gain or to lose where Aunt Eliza is concerned, as I see it, and it would seem very odd if we dropped Ransome without any apparent reason, after he has shown himself so friendly.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ said Marius, ‘you must please yourselves. There is a good deal of truth in what you say. Nevertheless, if Lizzie has not returned to the island by Wednesday, I shall be forced to the conclusion that she is deliberately staying away because she has changed her mind and does not want to meet me after all. In that case I adhere to my decision. We return on the Wednesday or the Thursday steamer. I shall have no second thoughts about that.’

  ‘Poor old buster,’ said Sebastian, as he and his sister left the hotel to go for a walk. ‘He’s an awful ass, but I do feel sorry for him. Underneath all that pompous blah, he’s cut to the heart that Aunt Eliza is dodging meeting him again. His ideas are not entirely mercenary, you know. He genuinely wants a reconciliation. I believe, in fact, that that has been the truth all along. The inheritance thing was only a sop to Boobie.’

  ‘And didn’t work,’ said Margaret. ‘Do you really think he’ll have the cheek to call at Puffins?’

  ‘I don’t know, and I don’t care. I wish I knew whether there was any part of the island where these blasted bird-watchers won’t be swarming. If I’d known the place was going to be turned into a sort of pop festival without even the advantage of the pop, I would never have come.’

  ‘Don’t you mind if we have to go home on Wednesday?’

  ‘Oh, well, we may have exhausted all the local resources long before that.’

  ‘I don’t want to leave. I like it here,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Hey! You haven’t gone all girlish about Ransome, I hope!’ said her brother.

  chapter seven

  The Body in the Sea

  ‘Adieu! farewell earth’s bliss,

  This world uncertain is: