‘Well in the end, because young Sid was in such a state about his father, Mr Stafford got Albert to telephone for the police while he and Bridges, that’s the head gardener, set out for the woods to see for themselves what had happened. They took a couple of spades with them just in case, although what good they’d have been against a man wielding a gun, I’m not sure. Anyway they found Archie standing guard over the body and Lady Belvedere dead as a dormouse just as Sid had said. And Archie had the same story as to how he and Sid had come across Miss Simpson crouching over the body and what she’d said but he said as how she was talking gibberish and that he’d put it down to shock.’
‘I see. We’ll have to interview Mr Cutter and his son ourselves of course. But what can you tell me about them. Are they reliable?’
‘Archie’s cellar man at the “Horse and Hound”. His family have lived in the village for generations, so they have, and Sid’s his son, just a young lad but pleasant enough, eleven or twelve, still at school.’
‘You mentioned earlier that they said they were out walking in the woods, but from your tone I gather you didn’t believe them. Why’s that, Mrs Palmer?’ The sergeant looked at the cook quizzically, and for the first time during their conversation she seemed a little uneasy.
‘The woodland backs onto Sir William’s parkland, Mr Lane. Like as not the Cutters’ intention was to do a bit of poaching. As you know times are hard, Sergeant, there’s not many a folk who can afford fresh meat to feed their families these days. And Sir William is awful lenient with them. He likes as not turns a blind eye to a bit of poaching, as long as folks don’t take advantage, of course.’
‘I see, very good of him. But it does mean, does it not, that if Mr Cutter and his son were after bagging a rabbit or two they’d have taken a shotgun with them?’
The servants’ hall suddenly became silent as the general to-ing and fro-ing made by the servants undertaking their daily tasks, which had created a background noise to their conversation, ceased abruptly and Lane inwardly cursed himself for being too direct in his questioning. He had no intention of making them guarded in what they said, frightened of incriminating someone.
‘You misunderstand me, Sergeant,’ said Mrs Palmer, clearly flustered, wringing her apron between her hands as if it was wet. ‘I didn’t mean to imply that just because Archie Cutter is not above doing a bit of poaching, he’d kill someone. That’d be ridiculous!’
‘I’m not saying that he did, Mrs Palmer,’ said the sergeant trying to recover the situation and reassure all the anxious eyes that were turned to him. ‘I’m sure he didn’t, but he would have had a gun with him and I need to find out what he did with it. I’m thinking that despite Sir William’s lenient approach to a bit of poaching on his land, Mr Cutter wouldn’t want to be caught red handed with a gun in his possession. I take it he came back with Stafford to get his boy? He must have done something with the gun. Our men are out searching the woods now, I don’t want them to find Mr Cutter’s gun and confuse it with the weapon that killed the countess, it’ll only delay things.’
‘I see, Sergeant, you’re quite right,’ said Mrs Palmer looking relieved. ‘Well he did come back with Mr Stafford, as you say, to get young Sid. I think that Mr Stafford thought it best if a member of the household, so to speak, was guarding the body until the police arrived, so he left Bridges. And, before you ask,’ she continued, holding up her hand as Lane looked about to interrupt her, ‘Cutter was carrying no gun. He was looking mighty shocked himself so I sat him down and gave him a cup of sweet tea. By this time, I’d taken Miss Simpson up to her room to lay down. Mrs Torrington offered to keep her company, for she was in no fit state to be left alone. Meanwhile, Mr Stafford went to acquaint Sir William as to what had happened. He was that grateful to the Cutters for how they had dealt with the situation, Archie staying with the body and young Sid seeing Miss Simpson home, that he gave them a brace of pheasant to take home with them. If we’d realised you would be here so quick we would have made them stay put. But I’ll give you directions to their cottage, it’s just a couple of miles away at the edge of the village.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Palmer, you’ve been most helpful. I’ll just go and have a word or two with my inspector and then no doubt I’ll be sent off to interview the Cutters. And then I’ll come back and ask you a few more questions about the guests, if you don’t mind. It’ll be a chance to have another slice of that delicious cake if nothing else.’ He beamed around at all the servants, but none caught his eye or smiled this time.
Chapter Twenty-three
‘Sir, there’s something that I thought I’d better come and tell you before I interview the servants further,’ said Lane entering the library. Seeing that Rose was still there, he beckoned to the inspector to come over to the door so that they could confer without being overheard. He was surprised to notice that one of the constables was also there, sitting in the same chair that he had sat in when taking notes. ‘Miss Simpson was discovered in the wood by an Archie Cutter and his young son, Sid. Apparently she was in no fit state to make her own way back to the house so young Sid escorted her while Archie Cutter kept watch over the body. Mr Cutter is a cellar man at the local public house. The servants think that he and his son were probably out poaching when they came across her, which obviously means that one of them was more than likely carrying a gun. When Stafford and Bridges, that’s the head gardener, sir, went to relieve Cutter and ascertain the truth of the boy’s somewhat garbled story, there was no sign of a gun. Cutter had no doubt taken the opportunity to hide it while he was alone with the body. Sir William is known to be rather tolerant of poachers on his land, but even so, I doubt Cutter wanted to risk it, particularly as Lady Belvedere had been shot with just such a weapon.’
‘That explains it,’ said the inspector, not sounding particularly surprised. ‘The constables located a shotgun during their search of the woods. It had been partially hidden in the undergrowth close to the scene of the shooting. It seemed to me a bit too convenient, unless of course the killer had panicked, which would fit in with Sir William’s theory of a poacher who had shot Lady Belvedere by mistake. I’ve just been to see the gun myself in situate and to me it doesn’t look as if it’s recently been fired, but I could be wrong. It’s been photographed and tested for fingerprints; some were found, and I was just about to go and check to see if they matched those of anyone in the house. But, as it now seems likely that it’s this Cutter’s gun, take the gun with you and go and interview the Cutters and take their fingerprints. Hopefully they’ll confirm straight away that it’s theirs, but make sure you bring it back so that our gun expert can check it. It’s just possible that they might have killed Lady Belvedere by mistake and then hung around when they saw the state Miss Simpson was in, but I think that’s highly unlikely. I think we’ll find that another gun altogether is the murder weapon.’
‘Very well, sir, but what about Miss Simpson? You’ll be wanting to take a statement from her won’t you, she’s obviously got something that she wants to get off her chest; you’ll need someone to take notes.’
‘That’s alright, Lane, I’m sure the constable will oblige. I’m very mindful that I’ve kept Miss Simpson waiting. They brought me the news about the discovery of the gun just after you left to interview the servants, so I left the constable to sit with Miss Simpson while I went out to take a look for myself. She seemed in a particularly agitated state and I didn’t think she should be left alone. But I’m very keen at the moment that we locate the murder weapon and eliminate these Cutters and their gun from our enquiries if we can. I know I can rely on you Lane, but try and find out if the Cutters heard or saw something. They must have been in the vicinity when Lady Belvedere was shot. Perhaps they saw a figure running away or they may have overheard Lady Belvedere’s and Miss Simpson’s conversation, anyway, see what you can find out.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Right, I really must get on with interviewing Miss Simpson now before I have any
more interruptions. I’m anxious to find out what she’s got to tell us. I suppose Sir William will be back any minute.’
‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that score, sir,’ said the sergeant trying vainly to suppress a grin. ‘Last time I saw him was when I was leaving the servants’ hall. I had to pass the housekeeper’s sitting room, and happened to look in; Sir William was partaking of a glass of sherry with his butler. They both looked very settled.’
‘Well, what is it Stafford?’ demanded Sir William, for the second time that morning, as he entered his butler’s pantry, a service room located off the kitchen. Sir William looked around him, taking in the counters and the sink, the fine china that was stored there, as well as the family’s silver, which was both cleaned and counted in this room. He caught sight on the desk of the wine log, written in Stafford’s very precise hand, as well as the merchant account books, charge over which was Mrs Palmer’s responsibility. Leading off from the pantry was Stafford’s bedroom. Sir William had rarely ventured into his servants’ domain, and he felt at once as if he were entering into another world.
‘This had better be good,’ Sir William continued, ‘I can’t have you drag me out of a police interview just to check the quality of Mrs Palmer’s soup or to go through the menu for luncheon. Doubt whether anyone will feel much like eating anyhow, what with this dreadful business, what?’ He wanted dreadfully to sit down and rest a while and think, he considered the butler’s pantry rather restful and masculine, an escape from the feminine finery of the main parts of the house, but he did not think it appropriate for him to do such a thing without being bidden, as if he would be overstepping the mark, imposing the master-servant relationship into somewhere which was totally Stafford’s domain, and so he stood there uncomfortably, aware of his aching bones. However, there was only a rickety old chair which looked distinctly uncomfortable.
‘Quite so, sir,’ said Stafford in his usual deferential tone, his face as impassive as ever. Sir William had always found his butler’s lack of emotion disconcerting and wondered, not for the first time, whether Stafford was secretly laughing at him.
‘I can assure you that luncheon is not an issue, sir. Mrs Palmer and I had exactly the same thoughts on the matter as yourself, sir. Instead of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with roast potatoes, cabbage, carrots and gravy …,’ Sir William found his mouth watering at the description of the meal he was to miss despite his fine words, ‘Mrs Palmer, having already having started to cook the joint of beef before we became aware of the catastrophe, is going to do rare roast beef sandwiches and, for those who are really not up to eating anything at all, a hot chicken broth that she usually reserves for invalids. She is still intending on serving the apple pie and custard, sir, for we both thought that the sugar would give much needed energy which we feel is very necessary at a time like this to see everyone through the shock.’
‘Yes, very good,’ agreed Sir William, secretly delighted that pudding was still on the menu.
‘And for the policeman from Scotland Yard, sir’ continued Stafford, ‘we thought just sandwiches and coffee. Would you like to sit down, sir? What I should like to talk to you about may take a little time to discuss. If I may suggest, sir, going into the housekeeper’s sitting room, there are rather more comfortable chairs to sit on in there. Besides, we are sure to be disturbed by the other servants if we stay in this room.’
‘Oh, very well, Stafford, if you insist, lead the way,’ said Sir William wearily, collapsing into a rather faded armchair as soon as they entered the room. He noted that Stafford remained standing and he felt immediately that this placed him at a distinct disadvantage having the butler loom over him. ‘Now what is it, Stafford, what’s so important, spit it out, man.’
‘When Betty, that’s the under housemaid, sir, was cleaning your study this morning just before the police arrived, your saying that it was probably the room that they would use as their interview room, although, of course, they’ve since decided to relocate to the library, it being bigger, but we weren’t to know that at the time. Anyway,’ Stafford continued quickly, aware that his master was looking both a little confused and bored, ‘suffice to say, Betty went in there to clean and that if it hadn’t been for the police, it probably wouldn’t have been cleaned until Monday morning, sir, when you were partaking of breakfast because you don’t usually use it on …..’
‘Get on with it, man,’ interrupted Sir William rudely, ’do you think I am interested in when my study gets cleaned, don’t you think I’ve got more important things to think about just now what with one of my guests having been killed on my property, my wife’s sister at that?’
‘Indeed, sir,’ agreed Stafford, impassive as ever, ‘which is why I wouldn’t have said anything only when Betty pulled back the curtain of the alcove to polish your gun cabinet she noticed that the lock had been forced.’
‘What!’ Sir William’s eyes bulged and he covered his face with his hand. ‘Don’t tell me my shotgun was missing?’
‘No, sir, it had been put back.’
‘Ah, that’s a relief, nothing to worry about then. What do you mean by put back? It was probably never used in the first place. I’ve always thought that lock was rather dodgy, probably just came apart, meant to mention it to you before; have someone mend it at once.’
‘Yes, sir, of course. But before I do, I should mention that the maid came to see me straightaway about her discovery. In view of everything that had happened, I took the liberty of examining the shotgun and found that it had been recently used and put back uncleaned.’
‘Good God, man, are you sure?’
‘Quite sure, sir.’
‘How many people know about this, Stafford?’
‘Just me and the maid, sir, and you now, of course. I think the maid could be persuaded to keep quiet about it though, she’s a little in awe of me, sir; to tell the truth, I think I remind her a bit of her father.’
‘Let me think, let me think.’ Sir William got up and started pacing the room. ‘We shouldn’t really withhold evidence from the police, Stafford. Not the done thing at all, but if we tell them about it, it will knock the theory that Lady Belvedere was killed accidently by a poacher completely on the head.’
‘My thoughts exactly, sir. I doubt even the most audacious poacher would dare to break in to your study to steal one of your guns.’
‘This is awful, Stafford.’
‘Quite so, sir, which is why I thought I should tell you first, before we informed the police.’
‘Absolutely, old man,’ agreed Sir William scratching his head. ‘Yes, I suppose we must tell them. Damned if I know what to do about it. Of course, my duty is to help the police with their enquiries, but if I do tell them about the shotgun then they’ll think Lady Belvedere’s shooting was premeditated and that the culprit was one of my … oh, it’s too awful to think about. Do you think the murderer left fingerprints on the weapon, Stafford, or do you think he wore gloves? It’s not really cricket after all to rat on one’s guests. One doesn’t invite people to come and stay and then pass information onto the police which will confirm that they are a murderer.’
‘Quite so, sir, which is why I took the liberty of wiping the gun of fingerprints. I thought it was a necessary precaution in the circumstances.’
‘You did what, Stafford!’ Sir William looked aghast. ‘Why man, that’s tampering with the evidence, you’re an accessory after the whatsit, you could go to prison!’
‘Yes, sir, but only if the police find out. I’m hoping that they’ll think that the murderer wiped his fingerprints from the gun himself. It’s what I would have done, sir, if I had decided to take one of your guns and kill Lady Belvedere.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you would have, Stafford. Why man, I bet you’d commit the perfect murder.’
‘I hope so, sir, not that I hope the need will ever arise.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of you,’ said Sir William eyeing his butler
with a degree of unease. ‘Anyway, what’s done is done. Who knows about you wiping the gun of fingerprints? I take it you didn’t do it in front of the maid?’
‘Oh no, sir, that would have been most improper, sir,’ said the butler looking horrified, ‘she holds me in high esteem, as do all the servants here, of course. I see it as my duty to be an example to them.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do. Well I suppose we’d better get it over with,’ said Sir William in a resigned way, although having re-seated himself in the armchair during the course of their conversation about the gun, he suddenly found himself reluctant to get up. ‘I suppose I can’t hold it off any longer. Come with me, Stafford, and we’d better bring the girl too, I expect the police will want to have a word with her.’
‘Perhaps before we go, sir, you’d like a small glass of sherry to fortify yourself for the ordeal.’
‘Jolly good idea, Stafford, just what I need only better make it a large one and given that there’s just the two of us and after the risk you’ve taken, you’d better join me in a snifter yourself.’
Chapter Twenty-four
‘Right, Miss Simpson, please accept my apologies for keeping you waiting, I hope the constable has been looking after you in my absence,’ Deacon said, closing the library door behind the sergeant. ‘Now what is it that you wanted to tell us, I take it it’s pretty important given that you almost broke the door down.’ He smiled, but it did little to mask his concern.
‘I’m sorry, Inspector, now I’ve had an opportunity just to sit here and think, while you were called out, I feel much calmer, much more myself, and I’m afraid I may have overreacted a bit. I think I may have made a bit of a fool of myself in front of Mrs Torrington.’
01 - Murder at Ashgrove House Page 19
