‘What do you mean,’ asked Deacon, sharply, ‘he didn’t know about it then?’
‘Well he knew about it this morning, because I told him about it while he was berating me. I suggested that instead of wasting his anger on me, it would be better spent on his mother who, I had little doubt, was at that very moment instructing his darling Rose to pack her bags and leave Ashgrove.’
‘You told him that this morning?’
‘Yes, and I’m afraid that I was that annoyed that I let slip what Lady Belvedere had asked me to do regarding Miss Simpson, you know, so as to prevent their romance from developing.’
‘And what did Lord Sedgwick do?’ asked Deacon, unable to stop himself from leaning forward.
‘Why, what any other fellow would have done in his position,’ smirked Lord Sneddon, clearly enjoying himself. ‘He turned on his heel and fled down the stairs.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Oh, about a quarter to ten, I should imagine. Plenty of time I expect to catch them up and undertake the ghastly deed.’ He removed an invisible piece of fluff from his trousers. ‘And now, Inspector, I think I have answered enough of your questions, don’t you? Especially as I may have given you the murderer. Goodbye.’ With that, he got up and left the room, Deacon and Lane still reeling from what he had just said.
‘He’s an evil whatsit and no mistake,’ said Lane. ‘Do you think he did it, sir? Lord Sedgwick, I mean, sir, not Lord Sneddon. Although I’d much rather it was Sneddon.’
‘I hope not, Sergeant, I rather liked that young man, although, like you, I can’t say the same of the one that’s just left. If Lord Sedgwick is guilty of his mother’s murder then I’m damned if I’m not going to get Lord Sneddon on a charge of incitement to murder.’
‘I know how you feel, sir. What was worse was that he seemed to be enjoying it all as if it were all some sort of game.’
‘Well, he was definitely relieved to be able to shift suspicion on to someone else.’
‘But was Lord Sneddon ever really a suspect, sir?’ enquired Lane. ‘I can’t see a motive. True, he probably resented being told what to do by Lady Belvedere, but they both wanted the same thing, didn’t they, for him to marry Lavinia?’
‘I agree, but you’re forgetting something, Lane.’
Am I? What’s that, sir?’
‘The countess may not have been the intended victim. Miss Simpson might have been and, if so, our Lord Sneddon had a very good motive for wanting to do away with her. She turned down his advances, something which he is not used to if you believe what he says, and she was instead enamoured by his friend. Lord Sneddon was a man spurned and he does not seem to me the sort of man to take such a thing lying down. Plus I would imagine that he’s the jealous type. He probably also felt humiliated by being punched in the face in front of the girl. And he did after all say that he was going to get his own back. Also, we only have his word for it that he told Lord Sedgwick what he said to us and at that particular time. Still, if what he says is true, it would help explain something that’s been puzzling me.’
‘What’s that, sir?’
‘Why Lady Lavinia was so eager to accuse her friend.’
‘And why was that, sir?’ asked Lane. ‘Although I thought at the time it was a particularly mean thing to do particularly to someone like Miss Simpson.’
‘You and Miss Simpson, Lane, you are quite blinkered where she’s concerned. But to answer your question, Lady Lavinia, I think, was eager to accuse her friend in order to divert suspicion from her brother. Remember what Sneddon said. The two men had their argument in one of the empty rooms in the corridor in which Lady Lavinia and Miss Simpson had their rooms. They assumed that the two girls would be at breakfast, but we know that that was not the case. Lady Lavinia was suffering from a headache and so was in her room. Given that their argument was heated and that they were probably shouting at each other, it is inconceivable to think that she did not hear at least some bits of their conversation. She would have been surprised that they had come up there in the first place, and no doubt was inquisitive to know why. She may or may not have overheard Sneddon taunting her brother, but she can hardly have failed to hear Sedgwick fleeing the room and tearing down the stairs.’ The inspector was getting into his story and began pacing the room. ‘She must have realised that he had set out to thwart Lady Belvedere’s plan of persuading Miss Simpson to leave. Later, when she is informed what has happened and the time that the shooting supposedly took place, she is certain that her brother is the murderer. She is very close to him and is determined to protect him from the gallows; the only way she can be certain of doing that is to have someone else found guilty of the murder.’
Chapter Thirty-one
‘Mrs Torrington, so sorry to have kept you waiting,’ said Deacon, smiling at her disarmingly, ‘do take a seat.’
‘There’s no need to apologise, Inspector, I quite understand that you needed to interview Lady Belvedere’s family first. Such an awful thing to have happened, I can hardly believe it, I …’ She broke off suddenly to weep into a handkerchief that she held balled up in her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Inspector, you must think me very pathetic. I know everyone else has been very strong, except for Lavinia, of course, but you wouldn’t expect her to be, seeing Marjorie was her mother. But it’s such a dreadful thing to have happened and such a shock, it’s not what one expects when one comes to Ashgrove. It’s so peaceful here, you see, so untouched by anything awful, I always think of it as such a beautiful place to escape to when times get too tough to bear. It’s as if it’s not part of the real world. For example, have you ever seen so many servants? Everyone always complains these days how hard it is to get good servants since the war, but Ashgrove is simply teeming with them just as it was before the war. And I don’t believe that Constance was affected at all by the war. She didn’t lose one member of her family, can you believe it, no nephew, cousin or anything. I didn’t think that was possible, I thought everyone lost someone, but not Constance, everything has always gone well for her, well, except for having a sister like Marjorie, of course, nobody would want that.’
‘What was Lady Belvedere like, Mrs Torrington? At times like this it is important to build up a picture of the victim. Often as not people are liable to say what a wonderful person the deceased was, although,’ Deacon added, ‘I have to confess that in this case they have not. The countess appears to have been universally disliked.’
‘I think that’s a fairly good summing up,’ said Edith, drying her eyes. ‘It seems awful to say that of someone, doesn’t it, especially when they’ve just met with such a violent death. But Marjorie really was quite an awful woman, well, she was when we were younger, and I assume she hadn’t changed much although people do, so she might have, and I hadn’t seen her until Friday for years and years.’
‘How long had it been since you had last seen Lady Belvedere, Mrs Torrington?’
‘Oh, over thirty years, I should say. We were all at school together. I’m something of the poor relation, Inspector. We’re related to each other very distantly, but Marjorie and I never kept in touch, not like Constance and I did, or should I be saying Lady Withers. Oh, it’s all so very complicated, isn’t it, and I’m not sure that I feel up to all this and…’ The inspector noticed that her hand had gone almost instinctively to her handbag, which she opened, put her hand inside and almost instantly withdrew it, an exclamation on her lips, as if she had received a sharp stab of pain.
‘Mrs Torrington, are you alright?’ Deacon had leapt up from his chair with concern. Lane stopped his writing and looked up in surprise.
‘Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me, Inspector. Please ignore me. I’d just forgotten, that’s all.’
‘Forgotten what, Mrs Torrington?’
‘Oh, nothing, nothing at all,’ Edith said evasively, ‘it really doesn’t matter, Inspector, it isn’t important, please go on with your questions.’ There was a sudden firmness in Edith’s tone which made the inspec
tor think that, however much he questioned her about what was in the bag to cause such a reaction, she would refuse to answer or else be unnecessarily vague.
‘Can you please tell me where you were between half past nine and half past ten this morning? We’re asking the same question of everyone, Mrs Torrington.’
‘Oh, I was breakfasting and getting up, I think. I know that I’d just got downstairs when William told me about Rose being in a state and Lady Belvedere being shot. He said that the girl was in the servants’ hall but that he’d appreciate it if I would sit with her, and of course I was more than happy to help. Such a dreadful thing to happen to a young girl. You think she’ll get over it in time, don’t you? She seems such a level-headed, sensible kind of woman to me. Now if it had happened to Lavinia, that would be a totally different case, she’d –.’
‘Excuse me for interrupting you, Mrs Torrington, but can you explain to me please why Sir William should ask you to sit with Miss Simpson rather than his wife, she was the hostess after all, and Miss Simpson her guest.’
‘You’ve met Constance, Inspector. Do you really think she would have been any good at being calm and sitting quietly with Miss Simpson? Besides, she hadn’t yet come down and William was no doubt anxious how she would react to the news, given that Lady Belvedere was her sister. For all he knew, Constance could have been very upset. One never knows how she is going to react. Sometimes she is completely over the top and at other times it is as if something barely registers. Really she is the most contrary sort of person that one can imagine. One moment she is vague and absentminded and the next, shrewd and perceptive.’
‘I see. Tell me, can you think of anyone who might want to cause the countess harm?’
‘Really, Inspector, it was years since I had last seen Lady Belvedere, so I really couldn’t tell you. All I will say is that if her character remained the same as it was when we were girls, well then I think there are probably a fair number of people who would not weep too much at her death.’
‘What about you, Mrs Torrington, are you one of those people? You were heard to say how much you hated Lady Belvedere and how she should be dead if there was any justice in the world. I think you even went so far as to say how you would quite willingly do the deed yourself, if necessary.’
‘Did I really say all that? How very silly of me. I didn’t mean it, of course, it’s just something one says, isn’t it? I’d never do such a thing, really I can’t think what came over me to say something like that. It’s not like me at all, really it’s not.’
Deacon could not decide if she was shocked or impressed by her own behaviour. From what little he had seen of her, it seemed distinctly out of character. He knew her sort though, had interviewed many such women like her; she was the neurotic, timid type that wouldn’t say boo to a goose, but if pushed too far could suddenly snap like a finely coiled spring and the consequences could be quite devastating. He looked up; Lane was looking at her keenly, a similar thought having obviously crossed his mind.
‘Miss Simpson said that you were quite adamant. She said that you told her that the countess had once done you a terrible wrong and that she should pay for it.’
‘I said that?’ Edith looked scared, Deacon thought, as if she suddenly realised that she had let all her pent up emotions run away with her and said too much.
‘Yes, you did, Mrs Torrington.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ she said so quietly that Lane had to bend forward in his seat to catch her words. ‘Not to Rose ... Miss Simpson, anyway. It was wrong of me.’
‘What great wrong had Lady Belvedere done you, Mrs Torrington?’ the inspector asked gently. Such was her manner of vulnerability coupled with abject misery that he found himself almost tempted to lean towards her, clasp her hand and try and comfort her.
‘I don’t want to talk about it, Inspector, not to you.’
‘I’m afraid that I must ask that you do, Mrs Torrington, it may have a bearing on this investigation.’
‘I assure you it doesn’t.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that, if you don’t mind,’ Deacon said, speaking firmly so that Edith looked up and studied his face, as if seeing him for the first time.
‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but I’m not going to tell you.’ She held up her hand as Deacon tried to protest. ‘It’s no good, Inspector, you won’t make me change my mind. Even if it means that you arrest me for Lady Belvedere’s murder and throw me into prison or charge me with whatever.’ She flung her arm in the air in an act of desperate abandonment and caught the side of an empty teacup and sent it crashing onto the floor. She leapt up in alarm and looked at the broken crockery aghast.
‘Sit down, please, Mrs Torrington. Don’t worry about that, there’s no real harm done. We’ll get one of the maids to clear it up in a moment. Now I want to ask you another question, one I hope that you’ll oblige me by answering, this time. Miss Simpson was under the impression that you were keen to prevent her from speaking to us after she had remembered something about Lady Belvedere’s shooting. She claimed that you had gone so far as to actually bar her way and that you seemed overly anxious to know what she’d seen. She felt you were trying to make her promise that she hadn’t seen who killed the countess.’
‘That’s nonsense, Inspector, of course I’d want her to tell you anything that will help you to solve this crime. She was just overwrought, I expect, hardly surprising after what she’d just witnessed. I think she just got the wrong end of the stick, that’s all. She’s right in that I did try and encourage her to lie down and rest a little before she came down to speak with you, but that’s only because I was worried about her. She’d been through a horrible ordeal. Really William should have sent for the doctor; it was really too bad of him, the girl was in clear need of a sedative.’
‘So you totally deny the allegation that you tried to prevent Miss Simpson from giving evidence to us?’
‘I do.’
‘Tell me, Mrs Torrington. You know, don’t you, where Sir William keeps his guns?’
‘Of course, in a cabinet in the alcove off his study. William makes a point of always carrying the key to the cabinet on him. He’s afraid that the guns will get into the wrong hands.’
‘Well he proved to be right to be afraid, because they did. Someone forced the lock, took out his shotgun and used it to kill Lady Belvedere.’
‘Oh!’ Edith’s hand shot instinctively to her mouth and she seemed to recoil. ‘So it really was one of us, then? I hoped …’
‘You hoped it was a poacher? No, it was one of you, as you say. Tell me, can you fire a gun, Mrs Torrington?’
‘Well, yes, that’s to say that I have fired a gun, but it’s years ago now since I last did; I’m not sure I’d remember how to.’
‘I understand that it’s a bit like riding a bicycle,’ said Deacon, in a matter of fact tone, ‘once learned, never forgotten. Did you shoot Lady Belvedere, Mrs Torrington?’
‘I ... no, Inspector, I didn’t.’
‘But you know who did, don’t you, Mrs Torrington?’ The inspector leaned forward, looking at her earnestly.
‘Yes … at least I think so, but I could be wrong.’
‘I’d like you to tell me who you think it was.’
‘No, Inspector, it’s just based on suspicion, that’s all. I wouldn’t want to find that I had incriminated an innocent person, it wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Even so, Mrs Torrington, I think you should tell me who you think it is. We wouldn’t just take your word for it. We’d have to investigate, prove to ourselves that you were right in order to build a case.’
‘No, Inspector, I’m sorry, I don’t think so. Oh, dear, how awful you must think me. I seem to be constantly refusing to tell you things or answer your questions. I don’t mean to be awkward, really I don’t, but I can’t tell you.’
‘If you keep this information to yourself, you might be placing yourself in danger, have you thought about that, Mrs Torrington?’
‘Yes, a
nd I’m prepared to take the risk, Inspector.’
‘Don’t you want to see justice done, Mrs Torrington?’
‘Justice?’ Edith almost spat out the word. ‘Yes, I want to see justice done. I don’t want Lady Belvedere’s murderer ever to be caught, that would be true justice, Inspector.’
Chapter Thirty-two
‘Well that’s the last of them, Lane,’ said Deacon as the sergeant closed the library door behind Edith’s retreating form. ‘It must be one of them, but which one, that’s the question.’
‘My money’s on the butler, sir,’ grinned Lane, ‘you know what they always say about the butler having done it and in this case I could quite see it happening. Lady Withers relies on him enormously, you know, for the smooth running of Ashgrove. I imagine Stafford’s just the sort of chap to do away with a troublesome guest if he thought it was in the best interests of the household.’
‘Agreed,’ said Deacon getting up and walking to one of the bookshelves to study a book, which he took out and examined before putting it back, ‘but I think if that fine fellow were to commit a murder, he’d do it in a quiet and discreet manner so that no-one would even realise that a murder had been committed. I certainly don’t think he would consider it fitting to shoot one guest in front of another one.’
‘Well, who do you think did do it, sir?’
‘I’d like us to go through each suspect to see if we can determine motive and opportunity. I have to say that at first glance it looks to me that while no-one appears to have much of an alibi, everyone apart from Miss Simpson seems to have had ample opportunity both to carry out the murder and to return the gun to the study unobserved.’ The inspector wandered over to the French windows. ‘Have you noticed, Sergeant, that there is a terrace running along the entire perimeter of the house outside and that all the key rooms in question downstairs, by which I mean the downstairs rooms which our suspects claim to have been in, the drawing room, study and this room, the library, all have French windows leading directly out onto the terrace.’
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