by Carola Dunn
Brenda cleared a slew of magazines off the seat of the last of the three armchairs and sat down, and Fay perched on the arm. “Fire away,” she said.
“I take it Rumford is our subject. Has he been pestering you, or someone you know of, other than the general?”
“Just me,” Fay said regretfully, as though she’d have liked to present him with a long list of Rumford’s victims. She told the tale of Rumford’s extorting cigarettes. To Daisy’s surprise, Alec seemed genuinely interested.
“He never asked for money?”
“Not a penny.”
“Did you tell anyone other than your sister?”
“I mentioned it to Ray—Lieutenant Jardyne—just joking about it. He was furious, but I made him promise not to confront Mr. Rumford, because it would only get back to Daddy.”
“Ah.” The way Alec uttered Tom Tring’s favourite monosyllable told Daisy he thought the information might be useful.
Alec asked both girls a couple more questions without learning anything else, but he considered himself well repaid for giving Fay his time. Thanking them, he said, “Would you mind going to ask Mrs. Tebbit if she can see me now?”
“She’ll be thrilled.”
“You don’t still think Daddy killed Mr. Crabtree, do you, Mr. Fletcher?”
“It’s my job to keep an open mind, but I can tell you he’s moved down a few places on my list.”
“Oh, do you have a little list?”
“Like in the Mikado?”
“ ‘They’d none of them be missed,’ ” Fay carolled.
“But Daddy would be missed.”
“Off you go, girls,” said Daisy. “The sooner Alec clears up this case, the sooner you can stop worrying about your father.”
They scampered out. Alec turned to Daisy to send her home as peremptorily as she had dismissed Brenda and Fay, but she got her word in first. “Darling, how lucky you didn’t take my word for it that Fay had nothing useful to add.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for a start, I saw you prick up your ears when they told you about the balcony.”
“I did not prick up my ears!” he said, revolted.
“That’s what it looked like to me, though I don’t suppose they noticed. My guess is, you thought someone might have climbed down that way, but they’d hardly try it at the risk of going through the roof or knocking over the railing. Doesn’t that mean the Governor couldn’t have done it?”
“Probably, assuming the girls are telling the truth. It’s easily checked.”
“And I’ve worked out why you were interested in Rumford cadging cigarettes. If he’d bother to blackmail for such a minor return, it’s more likely that the Governor was telling the truth about never being asked for more than he could easily afford. But perhaps Rumford suddenly got greedy. Perhaps he’s decided he wants to retire.”
Alec recalled Macleod telling him Rumford had rejected his advice to retire and move far away from the river for his health. Suppose he had actually intended merely to postpone retirement for a few months while he built up his nest egg. But did he have a nest egg? Piper had found no cash and no bankbooks. And if he’d spent his ill-gotten gains as he received them, what had he spent them on?
“That,” Daisy was saying, “would explain why someone was driven to murder him now, not earlier in his iniquitous career.”
“Yes, you’re right. I should have considered that possibility.”
“Never mind, you can consider it now. Now tell me about Lieutenant Jardyne.”
“He’s not on the list of blackmail victims.” Alec’s mind was still on the question of a nest egg, or he wouldn’t have given so much away.
“You have a list? Darling, how helpful. Don’t tell me Rumford gave it to you?”
“Not exactly. Or perhaps I should say not deliberately. I asked him who might want to kill him.”
“Sneaky! Jardyne wasn’t on the list?”
“No.”
“But he has a motive of sorts, in protecting Fay from Rumford’s clutches.”
“I don’t know that I’d call pocketing the odd packet of cigarettes ‘clutches.’ ”
“But Jardyne might. He was out and about, earlier at least. He’s a silly boy, and he has a crush on Fay and a precarious hold on his temper. Suppose he just intended to tell Rumford to stop victimizing her. Rumford would have been sure to make some nasty comment—he has a nasty tongue—so Jardyne lost his temper.”
“And found a partizan?”
“Oh! Well,” said Daisy optimistically, “you never know where you’ll find one lying about.”
Alec laughed. “However, he could hardly have had words with Rumford that night, as the man on the steps was Crabtree.”
“Hmm, yes, that does rather spoil that particular theory, doesn’t it?”
“Jardyne stays on my list, though. Young men in love have done stupider deeds to win a fair maiden’s heart.”
Fay Carradine came in with a message that Mrs. Tebbit would be delighted to see the Chief Inspector.
“Thank you. You’re off home, Daisy?”
“Heavens no,” said Daisy with an air of triumph. “Mrs. Tebbit is the lady of the house. I can’t possibly leave without making my bow to her.”
“Oh yes, Mrs. Fletcher, Aunt Alice wants to see you, too.”
So Daisy followed Fay upstairs, and Alec, silently fuming, followed Daisy.
18
Fay chattered all the way up the stairs. As they entered the Council Chamber, Daisy turned back to Alec and whispered urgently, “I’ve just thought of something. Did you know—”
“My dear Mrs. Fletcher,” Mrs. Tebbit interrupted, “how nice to see you again.”
“Bother!” she whispered. “Tell you later.” Raising her voice, she went on. “It’s not exactly a visit of condolence, Mrs. Tebbit, but I felt I simply had to come and see how you’re all doing. Not to mention thanking you for reviving me with tea and sympathy.”
“What a terrible shock you had!” Miss Tebbit twittered. “A terrible shock for all of us.”
“I still think brandy would have worked quicker,” Mrs. Tebbit grumbled. “Mr. Fletcher, may I offer you a glass of something? Or are you not permitted to drink on duty?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Tebbit, but it’s frowned upon. Especially at this time in the morning.”
“Presumably you’re allowed coffee. In any case, I always have coffee at this hour, so you may please yourself. Brenda, you did order coffee and biscuits?”
“Of course, Aunt Alice. As always. You said one should not allow untoward events to interfere with one’s regular habits or social obligations.”
“Very true, my dear. Ah, here it is.”
A maid brought in a tray. Alec waited impatiently while the social niceties ran their course. Seeing it would not delay matters significantly, he accepted a cup and a gingersnap.
As soon as the maid departed, he said, “I gather you have something to tell me, Mrs. Tebbit. No doubt you’d like to speak privately?”
“On the contrary. Secrecy breeds hypocrisy, and a host of other ills. Everything is better out in the open.”
Brenda and Fay exchanged one of their looks.
“Not absolutely everything,” Daisy protested, injecting—in Alec’s view—a note of sanity into the proceedings. What was the alarming old woman up to?
“Not absolutely everything? Well, perhaps you’re right, Mrs. Fletcher.” She took a sip of coffee, an apparently innocent act, which had the effect, no doubt deliberate, of heightening the tension.
Miss Tebbit was obviously on tenterhooks. “Mother, what is it?” she pleaded.
Mrs. Tebbit ignored her. “Mr. Fletcher, am I correct in believing that man Rumford to be an extortionist?”
“So it would seem.”
“Then I must inform you that I believe he is blackmailing Jeremy Webster.”
“No, Mother, I’m sure you’re mistaken!” Miss Tebbit’s cheeks turned pink in agitated outrage. “M
r. Webster would never do anything wicked, anything that couldn’t bear the light of day!”
“What’s it to you, Myrtle?” enquired her mother with interest.
Alec decided she had started this hare more to tease her daughter than to enlighten the police. However, he couldn’t ignore it.
Pinker than ever, Miss Tebbit cried, “I can’t let you malign a good man. He’s not even here to defend himself.”
“You’re defending him very nicely.”
The girls looked befuddled, Daisy amused.
“Nonetheless,” Alec said dryly, “I shall need to hear his own defence, if you have anything more than imagination to go on, ma’am.”
“Naughty boy! As a matter of fact, I do. This is a strange old house, as you may have realized. Bear with me—I’m getting to the point. There are any number of small interconnected rooms, which, I gather, were once used to house prisoners of high status or full pockets, and their yeoman guards. Would you believe the Governor of the time used to charge them to dine with him?”
“Mrs. Tebbit, I—”
“I know, I know! You’re a busy policeman with no time to listen to the maunderings of an old woman,” said Mrs. Tebbit mournfully. “Well, then. I was exploring my cousin’s interesting residence, shortly after we first came to live here, when I overheard voices in an adjoining room. I recognized Mr. Webster’s voice at once. The other I was not able to identify at the time. However, at a later date, when I came across the Rumford man, I at once realized it was he whom I had heard.”
“You’re quite certain?”
“Oh yes. Most definitely a northerner, though with the edges smoothed by rubbing shoulders with all and sundry in the army.”
Alec glanced at Daisy, who looked up from scribbling in her notebook and nodded. Rumford’s first words in the hospital had certainly been North-country.
He still thought Mrs. Tebbit had her own agenda, which had nothing to do with his, but that didn’t mean she had nothing of interest to reveal, even if the decrepitude of the balcony ruled out Webster as murderer. “What was said?” he asked.
“Rumford said something about Mr. Webster being very interested in the Crown Jewels. Anyone would think, he said, that he was plotting how to pinch them.”
“Jeremy wouldn’t!” Miss Tebbit exclaimed.
“It was his duty to draw the Governor’s attention to the danger, Rumford said,” Mrs. Tebbit continued remorselessly. “But some piece of good fortune, such as unexpectedly finding a couple of pounds in his pocket, might distract him and make him forget what he ought to report.”
“No!”
By now, Alec observed, Daisy had torn the top leaf from her notebook, folded it, printed “Mr. Webster” on the outside, and passed it to Brenda. Brenda read the name, mouthed “Now?” at Daisy, and slipped out of the room. Daisy was apparently going along with Mrs. Tebbit’s plot. He might as well play his part, though he was pretty sure of what was coming next.
“And what did Mr. Webster say to that?” Alec asked the old lady.
“I didn’t stay to listen,” she said with unconvincing primness. “In my day, young ladies were taught not to eavesdrop.”
“Mother!”
“But as I left, I couldn’t help overhearing Mr. Webster’s response. He said ‘anyone’ had better think again, because his only interest in the jewels was scholarly, as the Governor knew very well.”
“There, I told you so, Mother. Jer—Mr. Webster would never do anything dishonourable.”
“ ‘Jeremy,’ is it? In my day, a young lady didn’t address a gentleman by his Christian name unless they were betrothed. Or he was closely related,” she added, rather spoiling the effect. “Has Mr. Webster asked you to marry him?”
“Oh no, Mother. And I’ve never addressed him as anything but Mr. Webster. It was just a slip of the tongue, because Cousin Arthur calls him Jeremy.”
“And has he ever addressed you as Myrtle?”
“Oh no, Mother. He’s far too much the gentleman.”
“Gentleman, pah! He’s a slowcoach, that’s what he is.”
“I expect the poor man’s scared to death of you, Aunt Alice,” said Fay.
“Slowcoach and coward,” Mrs. Tebbit said with relish.
“He is not! I won’t let you abuse Mr. Webster—”
“Miss Tebbit!” Webster burst into the room.
“Mr. Webster!”
“Myrtle!”
“Jeremy!”
“At last,” said Mrs. Tebbit. “Just like the dénouement of a drawing room comedy. Faugh, I’m quite exhausted. Mrs. Fletcher, thank you for your assistance. Very quick-witted! You’ll stay to luncheon, I trust? . . . Excellent. And Mr. Fletcher?”
Alec begged off. The charade had been amusing, and he had gained more evidence that Rumford was a blackmailer with modest demands. But he had several actual victims to interview, and it didn’t seem necessary to ask Webster to confirm Mrs. Tebbit’s story. Besides, if he interrupted the billing and cooing after all Mrs. Tebbit’s efforts to bring the pair together, the formidable old lady would turn her tongue on him.
Brenda and Fay were whispering together, their amazed gazes fixed on the couple, now holding hands. Daisy and Mrs. Tebbit had their heads together, both with self-satisfied smiles. Matchmaking instincts prevailed over the maternal today, it seemed. As Alec left the Council Chamber, Daisy gave him a little wave and he waved back.
So much for romance; now back to blackmail and murder.
Leaving Daisy to lunch with her eccentric friends, Alec returned to the Guard House. While waiting for Tom and Piper, he made notes on his interviews with the Resident Governor and Fay, and what Mrs. Tebbit had overheard. He wondered briefly what it was that Daisy had remembered that she wanted to tell him. It was as likely to be about the babies as the investigation, and if the latter, it was probably one of her wild theories. He put it from his mind.
The others came in together.
“Any luck, Chief?” Tom asked.
“Carradine confessed that Rumford’s been blackmailing him.”
“Blimey, Chief,” said Ernie, “and him a major general and Resident Governor of the Tower of London!”
“The higher the tower, the farther to fall,” said Tom, “not to mention the greater the pickings for an extortionist.”
“Did you find out what Rumford had on him, Chief?”
“No, and I told you not to ask people.”
“I didn’t, Chief. Just wondered if he happened to spill the beans.”
“ ‘Into the valley of death,’ ” Tom quoted. “Maybe he gave the wrong order, like in The Charge of the Light Brigade, and nobody came back alive to tell on him.”
“Then how’d Rumford find out, Sarge?”
“How did Tennyson find out about the Light Brigade? Some little sneak like Rumford was standing by and watching. In the Service Corps, he was. Here today and gone tomorrow.”
Alec quashed the discussion. “I have no idea what Carradine did, only that it may have happened in Mesopotamia. It’s not relevant, at least at present. But something interesting did emerge. I want to hear about your interviews before I go into that. Let’s get yours out of the way first, Ernie. You took the ones living in the Outer Ward, didn’t you? None of them could have killed Crabtree.”
“That’s right, Chief, assuming it’s not possible to get over the inner wall. But they were all over the ruddy place today. Just about wore out the soles of my boots hunting ’em down.”
“My fault. Rumours were flying, saying whoever attacked Crabtree must have been crazy and might attack anyone, so I told them to patrol the place.”
“That’s idiotic,” Tom said austerely. “The yeomen, of all people, knew it should have been Rumford there.”
“But the madman theory is always attractive, Tom, suggesting as it does that none of the people one knows, who are all manifestly normal, did the deed.”
“Ah.” Tom sighed. “Human nature. But these chaps have been soldiers for a couple of
decades and got to the top of the noncom heap. I’d’ve thought they’d be able to think straighter than that.”
“Murder’s different,” said Piper. “Since we got here, I’ve heard that ten times if I’ve heard it once. They’ve all been in combat, most in the trenches, but soldiers killing soldiers in battle is one thing; cold-blooded murder’s another.”
“I don’t think this was precisely cold-blooded,” said Alec. “I think it was done in desperation. But let’s get on with it. Ernie, you ran your quarry to earth in the end?”
Piper had taxed four yeomen with being victims of extortion. Once reassured that he wasn’t going to ask for details of their misdeeds, three had sheepishly acknowledged the fact. One adamantly refused, but Piper was pretty certain he was lying.
“The three all said much the same,” he reported. “They’d none of them received blackmail letters. Rumford just hinted at what he knew, saying just enough so they were certain he really did know. And he never asked for more than they would have spent on booze and smokes, never enough to put a dent in the housekeeping money. But he’s been at it for years, here a bit, there a bit. I reckon it’s added up to a nice spot of change over time. So why didn’t I find anything in his house? No money, no fancy stuff . . . ”
“Didn’t look hard enough, laddie,” said Tom.
“All right, you go search it, Sarge.”
Alec shook his head. “Now he’s come round, we’d have to ask his permission or get a search warrant, and I’m not prepared to do either. Not yet anyway. For all we know, he spent the take on booze and smokes, or the geegees, or giving chorus girls a good time on his day off. Tom?”
“I went first to see the Chapel Clerk, Dixon.”
“Carradine was just telling me how relieved he was that Rumford didn’t demand to be made Chapel Clerk,” Alec said with a grin, “given his despicable character. I didn’t mention the failings of the present occupant of the post.”
“Ah. Well, I didn’t ask what his failings are, but he came across Rumford during the War, too, like it seems the general must’ve done. Otherwise, it’s just as the lad says, nothing in writing, never asks for more than can be afforded without real hardship. Dixon’s been here at the Tower longer than Rumford. He says it wasn’t but a month after Rumford arrived that the blackmail started.”
