‘Indeed?’ Deacon raised his eyebrows slightly, looking interested. ‘Well, suppose we start at the beginning. What is it you wanted to tell me?’
‘Well, and I don’t feel any less worried about this and it sounds a bit silly when I say it out loud, but…’
‘But?’ Deacon prompted, encouragingly.
‘I don’t think Lady Belvedere was the intended victim, I think I was.’
The constable, who had been taking notes all the while in the sergeant’s absence, pressed rather too hard on his pencil and the lead broke. Deacon now looked keenly at Rose, all ears.
‘Suppose you tell me exactly why you think that, Miss Simpson.’
‘Well … I know it sounds awfully melodramatic and of course I might have got it totally wrong, but, well, I stumbled just as Lady Belvedere was shot. I’d forgotten all about it, you see, what with the shock of it all, and then I suddenly remembered while I was upstairs with Edith, trying to rest. I stumbled and tripped just as the gun went off. It was the look on Lady Belvedere’s face that made me fall. I’ve never seen anything like it, seen anyone look so afraid. I suppose I was transfixed, but I put my hand out towards her and, not looking where I was going and the ground being so littered with twigs and bits of branches, well, I tripped. And then when I looked up, I couldn’t see her, and I looked down and there she was ...’ She faltered for a moment at the recollection but went on valiantly, before the inspector had an opportunity to interrupt. ‘He must have panicked, mustn’t he? When he realised he’d shot the wrong person, he must have panicked and run away.’
‘It’s possible,’ agreed Deacon, pondering. ‘Of course, you weren’t facing the shooter, so we can’t be sure who he was aiming at, but it’s possible that you were his intended target.’
‘That’s not all, Inspector. What made me really afraid, although I think now I might have read too much in to it at the time, was that Edith seemed to be trying to stop me from coming down to see you, she even went so far as to try and bar my way, but then again, perhaps she was just worried about me. But she was very anxious to know what I’d seen. It was almost like she was trying to make me promise that I hadn’t seen who’d killed the countess.’
‘Interesting. Well, we’ll certainly be having a word with Mrs Torrington. Now to come back to this idea about you being the intended victim, Miss Simpson. I’d like to explore that further. Do you have any enemies here in this house, anyone you could think of who might want to cause you harm?’
‘Enemies, Inspector? Enemies is such a strong word, isn’t it? I hope that I don’t have any enemies anywhere, let alone in this house. Why, I met most of the people here only the day before yesterday.’
‘So you can’t think of anyone, Miss Simpson?’
‘Not really. Lady Belvedere obviously wasn’t too fond of me, and Lavinia and I have had a bit of a falling out, but it’s silly really, I mean it’s over nothing. She’s my friend. The only other person I can think of, but I’d rather not say….’
‘Yes, Miss Simpson?’ Deacon looked up and nodded at her encouragingly. ‘I’m afraid that it’s important that you tell us everything no matter how irrelevant you may think it is.’
‘Well, Lord Sneddon made a sort of drunken pass at me on the Friday night. Fortunately Stafford came to my rescue. But then he did the same thing last night, although this time I don’t think he had any intention of taking no for an answer …’ Rose shivered slightly, as she remembered how frightened she had been.
‘So what happened, Miss Simpson?’ Both policemen looked at her concerned.
‘Cedric ..., Lord Sedgwick saved me.’ As Rose said these words, she thought how romantic it had been, being saved by the man she loved and for a moment she was lost in her own thoughts. A discreet cough by the inspector brought her back to the present. ‘He must have had his suspicions about his friend,’ she said quickly, ’because he just appeared out of the darkness and told Lord Sneddon to let me go and then he punched him in the face and told him to pack his bags and go first thing this morning. Lord Sneddon was very angry about it and threatened to get his own back.’
‘I see. It sounds as if you had a lucky escape, Miss Simpson,’ said Deacon. ‘Well, Lord Sneddon’s still here, so we’ll be speaking to him later as well.’
‘Going back to Lady Belvedere, Miss Simpson, let’s just suppose she was the intended victim after all. As someone meeting most of the people here for the first time, I’d like to hear your views as to who might wish the countess harm. From what I understand, she could be rather a difficult woman.’
‘Yes, Inspector, she was. She was a woman who wanted her own way and was used to getting it. I don’t think anyone liked her much. Cedric and Lavinia avoided going back to Sedgwick as much as possible, and even Lady Withers seemed a bit scared of her. Her own husband kept himself out of her way, although, if I’m honest he seemed to keep himself out of everyone’s way, preferring the company of old books to people. And Edith …’
‘Yes. Mrs Torrington?’
‘She told me yesterday that she hated Lady Belvedere. She said something about the countess having done her some terrible wrong and she didn’t deserve to live. She said something about being tempted to kill her herself, but I don’t think she was being serious, Inspector,’ added Rose, hurriedly. ‘At the time I’m sure I thought she was just saying it for effect, I didn’t think she actually meant to do it and I don’t now, Inspector,’ she emphasised. ‘It was, well, just a figure of speech, that’s all.’
‘Indeed. Even so, I’m curious to have a word with our Mrs Torrington.’
‘Well, that’s a turn up for the books,’ Sergeant Lane said, when Deacon had filled him in on events on his return from the Cutters. ‘Puts a completely different complexion on things I’d say, sir; looks like the Countess of Belvedere wasn’t the intended victim after all.’
‘Perhaps,’ Inspector Deacon wandered over to the fireplace and picked up a framed photograph from the mantelpiece, which he studied absentmindedly before putting it back down again.
‘You don’t sound convinced, sir. But it certainly gives us other suspects. This Lord Sneddon, for instance, sounds a nasty piece of work.’
‘Yes, Lane, and Miss Simpson went on to say that, during the course of yesterday afternoon, Lady Belvedere summoned Lord Sedgwick, Lord Sneddon and Lady Lavinia to her presence individually and that each one looked annoyed or upset on their return. It would be interesting to know what she said to each; we’ll have to try and find out, it might give us some more motives.’ Deacon began to pace the room. ‘But going back to Miss Simpson, we’ve only got her word that things happened the way she said they did. And remember, she’s in a very agitated frame of mind at the moment, probably suffering from shock and who’s to blame her, after what she’s witnessed. One moment she’s having a heated argument with someone and the next that person is shot dead before her eyes. No wonder the poor girl’s in the state she’s in. I don’t know what to make of her claim that Mrs Torrington tried to prevent her from speaking to us. Did that really happen, or was it imagined on her part? Either way, we need to keep an eye on her.
‘Now, let’s look at what we do know for sure. Lady Belvedere announces in a loud voice in the drawing room after dinner last night, when most of the guests are present, that she would like Miss Simpson to take a walk with her in the woodland the following morning. She reiterates her request, or command should I say knowing the type of woman she appears to have been, through her maid after breakfast this morning. No doubt some of the servants were present, serving up the dishes and taking away the empty plates and so forth. So the news, which must have been of interest to all, could and probably did go all around the servants’ hall. Then, knowing what servants are like, it probably got passed on to some of the other guests in the form of servants’ gossip when they were taken their morning cups of coffee or tea or breakfast in bed. We can assume then, that everyone in this house could have known that Lady Belvedere and Miss Simpson would be
walking in the woods this morning.’
‘Surely, sir, that backs up what Miss Simpson was saying.’
‘Don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions, Lane. It could have gone as Miss Simpson says. She might have stumbled on a stone or something on the path and Lady Belvedere might have leant forward to grab her or offer her arm to prevent Miss Simpson from falling. However, knowing Lady Belvedere as we are beginning to, it seems to me more likely as not that she would have left Miss Simpson to fall and probably been quite happy about it.’
‘It would have been an instinctive reaction, sir, I think, for her to grab Miss Simpson, even if she didn’t like her one little bit. Even if that weren’t the case, sir, the murderer could still have been aiming the gun at Miss Simpson. If she and the Countess of Belvedere were walking side by side or perhaps had stopped to take in the view, or her ladyship had stopped to stress some point, and then Miss Simpson had stumbled, couldn’t the murderer, if he had been aiming at Miss Simpson at that moment, have pulled the trigger and hit the countess by mistake?’
‘Yes, it’s possible, Lane. But it could just as easily have happened very differently. As I’ve already said, we’ve only Miss Simpson’s word for it that she stumbled. Yes, I know, Lane,’ Inspector Deacon put up his hand as he saw that his sergeant was about to protest. ‘I agree with you that Miss Simpson seems a very nice young lady, very well brought up and personable to be sure, just the sort of lady your mother would like you to marry, no doubt! But what if she’s not really like that at all?
‘What about if she’s set her heart on marrying this Cedric fellow? She could see him as her way out of her current life of relative poverty and servitude, so to speak. And the only real obstacle to the match is Lady Belvedere. The earl seems to spend his life shut up with his books and to take little interest in his wife or children, so he might not have an issue with the match, we’ll need to check. I’m sure there was much speculation between everyone as to why the countess wanted to speak with Miss Simpson, but I think everyone probably was of the view that it was to warn her off, whether it be her friendship with Lady Belvedere’s daughter or her designs upon her son.’
‘I’m not convinced, sir,’ said Lane. ‘For one thing, Miss Simpson had no idea that Lord Sedgwick would be here. And would she really have fallen in love with him and decided to kill his mother all in the space of a couple of days?’
‘Let’s just suppose for a moment that Miss Simpson is the murderer, Sergeant, and the countess the intended victim. What could be easier than for Miss Simpson to take a shotgun from Sir William’s gunroom either last thing at night, when everyone has gone to sleep, or in the early hours of the morning when the servants are still sleeping? It was a moonlit night and she could have walked some way along the path until she had come to a convenient clump of bushes, loaded the gun and hidden it in the undergrowth. Then all she’s got to do is remember where she’s hidden it, walk with the countess along the path, stop and perhaps point to something on the horizon and then while the countess is busy trying to see what has been pointed out to her, Miss Simpson darts into the undergrowth, picks up the weapon, aims it at Lady Belvedere, calls to her so she turns around and then shoots. Then all she’s got to do is start screaming, wipe the gun clean of fingerprints and hurl it as far away from her as possible so that it’s not immediately found. It would be the work of seconds, a couple of minutes at most. And it takes a little while for the Cutters to reach her. Plenty enough time for her to arrange herself in a kneeling position over the body, sobbing, trying to stem the wound with her handkerchief. A perfect show of grief for when the Cutters come stumbling onto the scene.’
‘You really think that’s what happened, sir?’ Inspector Deacon took in the sad look upon his sergeant’s face.
‘No, Lane, I don’t. All I’m saying is that it could have happened that way and that we’ve got to keep an open mind.’
‘I bet everyone in this house would like it to be Miss Simpson, sir, she being an outsider and all and not one of their class.’
‘It’s because it’s better than the alternative.’
‘What’s that, sir?’
‘That it’s one of them. But we mustn’t forget what Miss Simpson said when the Cutters found her, about it being all her fault. However, another theory did just cross my mind, Lane, unlikely though it seems. What if Lady Belvedere herself arranged for someone to kill Miss Simpson while they were out on their walk together; it doesn’t seem that out of character, does it? From what we’ve heard, she was pretty ruthless and determined to get her own way by any means. Well, what if the person she engaged to do the killing changed their mind and killed the countess instead, or by mistake because Miss Simpson tripped and fell at the crucial time? You never know, Sergeant, perhaps the murderer was murdered!’
Chapter Twenty-five
On leaving the library, Rose made her way up to her own room where she intended to lock herself in and think further on the events of the morning or, if that felt too wearisome, to rest. Right now, she would have given anything to be at home, safe.
She had just got to the top of the first flight of stairs when a door was flung open and Edith appeared on the landing. Both women looked at each other for what seemed to Rose a few minutes, but in reality was probably only a few seconds, and then Rose broke the silence.
‘I’ve been to see the police.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve told them everything, everything I can remember.’
‘Very wise.’
‘Why did you try and stop me just now?’
‘I didn’t,’ began Edith, before seeing the look of disbelief on Rose’s face. ‘Well, I suppose it might have looked like that. But I did it for your own good. You were so tired and agitated, your face had gone so white, I didn’t think you’d manage the stairs without falling down them. I wanted you to lie down and rest a while, that’s all.’
‘You’re lying. You wanted to know whether I’d seen who killed Lady Belvedere and you wanted to stop me from telling the police.’ There was a silence, disturbed only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall below. ‘Well, aren’t you going to say anything, Edith, aren’t you going to deny it?’
‘No,’ said Edith, finally, ‘I suppose I’m not.’
‘Get out of my way. I don’t want you anywhere near me,’ Rose said, aware that her voice was beginning to rise hysterically. ‘Leave me alone, no, don’t come any nearer to me or I’ll scream, oh, can’t you see I’m frightened of you?’
‘Frightened of me?’ Edith sounded incredulous. ‘Rose? Rose, dear, you have no reason to be frightened of me, I promise you. I mean you no harm.’
‘I don’t believe you. Oh, I don’t know what to believe,’ Rose said, becoming distraught. ‘I’m just so frightened, that’s all.’
‘William should have sent for the doctor to give you a sedative,’ Edith said, coming over to Rose and putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘It was very unfair of him not to, to hell with the police.’
‘Edith, can I ask you something?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Will you promise me that you’ll tell the truth?’
‘Yes …well, I …’
‘Did you kill Lady Belvedere?’ There was another silence.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Edith said.
‘But you know who did,’ persisted Rose, ‘and you are trying to protect them, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, at least, I think I know who did it and I am trying to protect them. They don’t deserve to hang, Rose, we mustn’t let that happen.’ She looked at Rose beseechingly. ‘Please don’t ask me any more questions, I’m not going to tell you who it is, and if you tell the police about this conversation, I’ll deny it, so it’ll just be your word against mine.’
‘I didn’t tell the police about your conversation with Sir William on the croquet lawn, it didn’t seem relevant.’
‘Thank you, it wasn’t.’
‘I didn’t tell them either that I thou
ght Lady Belvedere was frightened of you, and then you of her.’
‘You just imagined it, Rose, that’s all. You seem to have a very vivid imagination.’
‘That’s as may be, Edith, but I didn’t imagine you telling me how much you hated Lady Belvedere at lunch yesterday, or how she deserved to be dead and you were minded to send her on her way yourself. I’m afraid I told the police that.’
‘It was very silly of me to say what I did. With hindsight …’
‘Yes, hindsight’s a great thing, isn’t it? But you weren’t to know, were you Edith? I mean, you didn’t shoot the countess, did you, so you weren’t to know someone would kill her today?’
‘No.’
Rose left Edith standing on the landing and proceeded up to her room. When she happened to look back, she found that Edith was still looking after her. Their eyes locked for a moment before both women looked away. Rose continued to her room aware that both women were left wondering what the other was thinking and, more importantly, what the other one knew.
‘You’d better lead the way, Stafford,’ said Deacon, trying very hard to keep his temper in check and hide how very annoyed he was with Sir William, who was following the inspector and sergeant rather dejectedly. It had seemed quite a good idea at the time to take a sherry with his butler, particularly in light of what Stafford had been prepared to do to protect the honour of the house and guests, but now Sir William considered that he had been a trifle unwise. Neither policeman had appreciated him not informing them at once that someone had broken into his gun cabinet. Somehow they had known that he had been drinking sherry with his butler. He did not feel that either could tell by his manner for he did not feel at all light headed, just calm; a lot calmer anyway, than he had felt just after he had spoken with Edith. Edith! How could she have been so stupid, how could …..
‘It’s in here, sir,’ said Stafford, pulling back the heavy velvet curtain, ‘in this alcove. You probably didn’t even notice it was here when you were in this room before, sir. The curtain’s always kept drawn.’
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