by Carola Dunn
So much for that!
Alec rang the doorbell, noting that the manor had been electrified. The door was opened by a stout elderly butler. His round, bland face did not reveal whether he knew – or cared – that ‘the young master’ was missing, presumed dead. He looked Alec up and down, then glanced at the police car with the uniformed and plain-clothes officers sitting in it looking like policemen. One eyebrow twitched.
A second quick scrutiny of Alec apparently reassured him. At least, he didn’t advise him to go round to the servants’ entrance.
‘May I be of assistance, sir?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher, Scotland Yard.’ He presented his official card, which the butler ignored. ‘I believe Sir Daniel is expecting me.’
‘Ah yes, the … gentleman from Scotland Yard. If you’ll just step inside, sir, I’ll see if it’s convenient for Sir Daniel to see you now.’
Alec had every intention of speaking to the baronet within the next ten minutes, convenient or not. However, arguing with butlers was not only a futile waste of time but set their backs up, reducing – even ending – their usefulness as sources of information. Meekly he stepped into the entrance hall.
As presaged by the exterior, everything was in discreet good taste, from the gleaming floorboards to the Chinese bowl of pink and yellow roses on the gleaming half-moon table.
The butler departed down a passage leading off to the left, but he returned in just a couple of minutes. ‘Sir Daniel will see you in the library, sir. This way, if you please.’
The room was exactly as Alec expected. Walls of glass-fronted shelves held calf-bound volumes most of which had probably been there for at least a century. A long table, a large rosewood knee-hole desk and leather armchairs completed the picture of a Victorian, even Georgian, gentleman’s library. What he had seen of the house so far seemed frozen in time, no hint of the twentieth century intruding. What he had heard of the family sounded as if they – apart from the baronet’s enterprising granddaughter – embraced Victorian domestic virtues as well as Victorian décor.
Keep a stiff upper lip and don’t wash your dirty linen in public. How long would they have kept quiet about Vincent Halliday’s disappearance if the girl had not taken the initiative?
The butler announced him. A tall, lean man who had been standing staring out of a window, came forward to greet him, walking with the aid of a stick. He moved stiffly, but his shoulders were unbowed by age, his steel-grey hair still thick. Observing his lined face and liver-spotted hands, knowing the age of his son, Alec reckoned he must be in his seventies.
‘Chief Inspector, Cheriton did not inform me of the purport of your visit, but I can only assume you bring bad news.’
‘I’m afraid so, sir. Won’t you sit down?’
Sir Daniel raised his chin with an impertinence-depressing stare, then thought better of it. With a sigh and a faint, ironic smile, he said, ‘We none of us want to admit the influence of Anno Domini, do we? Perhaps I will.’
He moved to the table and took the seat at the end, motioning to Alec to join him. Alec was pulling out a chair when the door was flung open and a plump, fair girl-child burst in.
‘Grandfather, they said there’s a policeman—’ She stopped dead on seeing Alec. ‘Oh!’
‘You were not invited, Delia.’ The baronet’s voice was icy. ‘I will not have you rushing about in this hoydenish manner.’
‘It’s my daddy who’s missing!’ she cried. ‘You don’t care.’
‘Of course I care.’
‘Then why didn’t you—’
‘Don’t argue. Go back to your mother at once. You will be told what you need to know in due course.’
He was unduly harsh, Alec thought, but it was none of his business and, in any case, nothing would make him relate the grim story in her presence. In fact, he was glad the girl’s mother and grandmother were also apparently to be excluded.
Delia glared at her grandfather, then her face crumpled and she ran from the room, sobbing noisily.
‘My apologies, Chief Inspector. I don’t know what they teach at that school she goes to, but it’s clearly not self-restraint.’
The simple fact of his speaking thus to a stranger, and a mere policeman at that, showed him not half so cool and calm as he would have liked to appear. His face had taken on a greyish tinge Alec didn’t like. He looked every minute of his age.
However, he continued abruptly, ‘Please go ahead. I assume your presence indicates that my son is dead.’
Alec sat down. ‘Pending positive identification by a member of the family, sir, so we believe. All the evidence points that way. Have you a photograph?’
Sir Daniel was prepared. He handed over a studio portrait in a silver frame of an army officer, a major – in his late thirties, at a guess – in dress uniform. ‘It’s not very recent. We don’t go in for family photography. Well?’
Army officers in uniform tend to look very alike, yet there was no doubt in Alec’s mind. ‘I’m sorry, this strongly resembles the deceased. We’re still required to have someone make a personal identification, I’m afraid.’
He inclined his head in acceptance. ‘Regulations must be observed. I take it Scotland Yard would not be interested had Vincent died a natural death.’
‘Correct.’
‘May I know … what happened?’
After a brief internal debate, Alec said, ‘The information could materially affect our investigation, sir, but if you will give me your word—’
‘You need not fear that I shall talk to the press,’ the baronet said with a touch of anger.
‘I’m sure of that, sir, but I must have your assurance that you won’t tell any of the family, even. No one at all.’
‘You have my word.’
‘Mr Halliday was shot through the heart. Death must have been instantaneous.’
There was silence while Sir Daniel absorbed this. Then he said, ‘May I at least tell the family that he didn’t suffer?’
‘If you wish.’ Alec didn’t add that Spilsbury said Halliday had been bound hand and foot for several hours before death. He had undoubtedly suffered physical discomfort and considerable mental distress. ‘You don’t want to wait until after formal identification of the deceased?’
‘No. My wife and his are as capable of drawing conclusions from your arrival as I am. My daughter-in-law must decide what is to be told to the child, and when. But I wish to see … him as soon as possible. Can it be arranged?’
‘Whenever you wish, sir. My driver can take you.’
‘I should prefer my own car and chauffeur.’
‘Then DC Ledbetter will accompany you.’
‘Am I – is the family under suspicion?’ Sir Daniel asked harshly.
‘No, sir. Circumstances are such that we can be fairly certain none of you is involved.’
‘Fairly certain!’
‘I’m sure you understand, sir, that that’s the best I can say until we’re in a position to make an arrest.’
‘But for the present, at least, you’ll be leaving us in peace.’
‘On the contrary, I’m afraid. You must see we can’t possibly find your son’s killer without knowing a great deal about him, his friends and associates, his history, every scrap of information we can pull together. In a case of murder, I don’t need your permission to search his personal effects, including any papers, letters and accounts. Strictly speaking, the body should be positively identified first. However, for reasons I can’t go into, we strongly believe time is of the essence and I’d appreciate your allowing me to get on with it right away.’
For a moment it was touch-and-go. The old man’s eyes flashed beneath his bushy eyebrows. Then he sank back into a sort of apathy typical of many relatives of murder victims, when a sort of emotional anaesthesia set in. ‘Do what you must,’ he said listlessly. ‘Do you want to talk to me now, or after … ?’
‘Better get it over with, sir. If you wouldn’t mind arranging with Lady
Halliday for her cooperation—’
‘My wife will cooperate as she sees fit.’ So he wasn’t the all-powerful paterfamilias! ‘I shall tell her I consider it the most sensible course. My butler will instruct the staff to offer every assistance. Now, if you would be so kind as to inform your sergeant I’ll be ready to leave in twenty minutes?’ Pushing on the table, he levered himself from his chair.
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Just one question: would it have made any difference if we had notified the police sooner?’
‘I very much doubt it.’
‘Thank you.’
From his tone, he might have been thanking Alec for passing a cup of tea.
CHAPTER 4
‘I can’t get the hang of this chap at all,’ said Tom.
‘A slippery character,’ suggested Ledbetter, behind the wheel again after his chauffeured jaunt to the mortuary. Having dropped PC Pickett off in Ayot Lawrence, they were on the road to London.
‘Not that, exactly. At least, I don’t think so, do you, Chief?’
‘Not if you take that to mean someone adept at slipping through our fingers. I have no sense of his being involved in anything shady. Rather the reverse.’
‘Excessively law-abiding?’ queried Tom dryly.
Alec laughed. ‘Hardly. Not from our point of view, anyway. But there’s something excessive about that family. A sort of almost obsessive reticence, a reluctance to do anything whatsoever that could conceivably lead to people talking about them.’
‘I know what you mean, Chief. Conformity.’ Tom’s vocabulary was occasionally surprising. He worked at it. ‘Not standing out in any way from what they consider the norm for people of their sort. They’ll even do things that go against the grain because it’s what they feel is expected of them. That came over very strongly from the people I talked to at the pub.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Vincent Halliday didn’t drop in of a Friday for a nice relaxing pint. He went because he thought he ought. Never on a Saturday, when they have a piano and a sing, nor any other day of the week, come to that. Arrived at six and left at quarter to seven on the dot, to walk home to change for dinner. Broad daylight.’
‘Yes. He couldn’t have been shot right away, but Sir Bernard said there’s a big bruise on his head, easily enough to have knocked him out. Marks on ankles and wrists suggest he was tied hand and foot, with other, lesser, and so far inexplicable bruising all over the body. Impossible to tell with the earlier victims.’
‘The footpath’s pretty isolated and goes through a wood. Wouldn’t be difficult to lie in wait, seeing how regular he was in his habits.’
‘No. How did he get on with the locals at the pub?’
‘Had an affable word for everyone, but he never relaxed, just didn’t seem to be enjoying himself.’
‘No-bless obleedge,’ said Ledbetter unexpectedly.
‘Did people resent being condescended to?’ Alec asked.
‘Not by what I was told. There weren’t many there, mind, lunchtime on a Friday, like Pickett said. The way they talked, they appreciated him making the effort when it didn’t come natural. Course, the estate’s a good employer, the biggest hereabouts, and they’re not going to bite the hand that feeds them. Besides, they knew he was missing and they knew I was a copper, so they wouldn’t want to let on he was unpopular. All the same, it wasn’t so much what they said as what came over without them putting it into words.’
Ledbetter snorted – softly – but Alec said, ‘I trust your instinct, Tom. The estate’s regarded as a good employer because they treat their employees well, or only because they employ a lot of people?’
‘Fair wages, fair treatment, and they look after ’em when they’re sick or old. The latter being what most of the patrons at the Goat and Compasses were.’
‘But it’s noblesse oblige, as Ledbetter says, not because they really care about their welfare.’
‘Common sense, too, Chief. Treat people well, they work harder and you don’t have any trouble finding and keeping workers.’
‘True. Still, it doesn’t sound as if the locals have much cause for complaint, let alone murder.’
Alec himself was not much wiser from his questioning of the family. It wasn’t that anyone seemed secretive. In accordance with Sir Daniel’s wishes, the residents of Quigden Manor had been willing to cooperate, even the old lady and the butler. Nothing anyone said gave the slightest hint of why Vincent Halliday’s life should have ended with a bullet in his heart and a grave in Epping Forest.
There was no hint of dissension within the family, nor between family and servants. The staff were mostly old retainers, a number of them re-employed after their war service. A few younger maids yearned to leave service for the bright lights of London, but that was the influence of the picture papers they read, not of animosity towards their employers.
Though London was no more than thirty miles away, the Hallidays rarely went up to town and virtually never stayed overnight. They were on visiting, but not intimate, terms with the neighbouring gentry.
‘What about the girl?’ Tom asked. ‘What did she have to say? She’s got some spunk, going against the rest of the family to report her dad missing.’
‘I didn’t manage to talk to her for very long. Floods of tears, as you can imagine. She wanted to see me alone, but I couldn’t stop her mother sitting in. Daddy was a brick. Her grandfather wanted her to have a mouldy old governess and stay at home, but Daddy talked him into letting her go away to school. She didn’t know how she was going to survive without him to take her side. Naturally, Mama came down pretty sharply on that and the interview was terminated pronto. Not at all the thing.’
‘The Bart was right, then, in his way.’
‘Yes, going away to school has reduced her willingness to conform to the family mores. Which, incidentally, her mother appears to have adopted wholesale. Perhaps she was chosen for the position because she comes from the same sort of set-up.’
‘Sounds as if the old man still has a firm grip on the reins. I mean, he let the girl go to school, but if he’d put his foot down, that would have been the end of that.’
‘I presume he controls the money.’
‘Expect so. A pretty fair tyrant. Now, if he’d been shot, we wouldn’t have to look beyond the family for the murderer.’
Ledbetter had been silent for some time, negotiating the increasing traffic as they reached the outskirts of the city. Now he commented, ‘What I don’t get is, this family, they’ve got swarms of servants all over the place, what do they do all day?’
‘An interesting question,’ Alec agreed, ‘but one which at present we need to answer only with regard to the victim. He seems to have kept himself harmlessly busy enough running the estate.’
‘Well, I don’t mind admitting, Chief,’ said Tom, ‘I’m flummoxed. What would anyone want to do in a bloke like that for?’
‘It beats me. We’ll just have to hope we’ll get enough information on the other two for Ernie to spot a correlation.’
When they reached New Scotland Yard, the duty sergeant told them one of the larger rooms, with several tables and telephones, had been set aside for the investigation, and a number of officers, detectives and uniformed, had been seconded to work with Mackinnon. Alec sent Ledbetter to inform Mackinnon of their arrival.
‘We’re going to be here till midnight,’ he said to Tom. ‘I must ring home, and so must you. I don’t want Mrs Tring blaming me for keeping you out till all hours without notice. We’ll go up to the office first.’
Daisy wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t ring her, but he always did if he was within reasonably easy reach of a telephone.
Elsie answered the phone and went to fetch Daisy.
‘Darling, you’re going to be late,’ she greeted him.
‘How did you guess?’ Alec asked ironically.
‘You know my methods, Watson. Very late?’
‘Probably.’
‘I hope that me
ans you’re getting somewhere, not completely stymied. I suppose you’re not going to tell me.’
‘Let’s say, we’ve got enough information to keep us busy.’
‘But not enough to make it likely that you’ll be able to come to Saffron Walden.’
‘Not tomorrow, certainly. And we’d have to be extraordinarily lucky for me to make it on Sunday.’
Daisy sighed. ‘Poor Bel. Oh well, she’s been a copper’s daughter for thirteen years now. She’s used to it. And that’s not counting your daring days as a pilot in the RFC, when I expect she saw even less of you. All right, darling, thanks for letting me know. I’ll give the twins a kiss from you and I’ll see you when I see you.’
If Belinda was used to being a copper’s daughter, Alec reflected, ringing off, Daisy had adjusted admirably to being a copper’s wife. It was one of the prospective problems that had worried him when he first realised that, come what might, he was going to ask the daughter of a viscount to marry him. He was fortunate that she had her own profession to occupy her. It was not really luck, though. He might never have been attracted to her in the first place, or even have met her, but for her determination to make a career for herself.
In fact, in spite of the irregularity of his hours – and her occasional solo forays into the country in pursuit of material for her articles – they probably spent more time together than many society couples, who often seemed to go their separate ways. Few families presented as united a face to the world as the Hallidays.
United and claustrophobic. Had Vincent Halliday somehow managed to conceal a secret life elsewhere?
Suppose he had had a mistress, another man’s wife. Was it not entirely possible that this hypothetical woman had had previous lovers? And that the cuckolded husband made a habit of bumping off his rivals? A promising scenario.
At the very least, it gave them somewhere to start thinking about the triple murder.
They went downstairs to find that Ernie Piper had a probable identification for the second victim and a couple of possibles for the first.
‘Good work!’ said Alec, draping his jacket over the back of his chair and loosening his tie. ‘All right, Mackinnon, what have we got?’
