The Thief of St Martins

by Caron Allan

  And then he winked at her. The tension left her; she relaxed back against the sofa cushions, her eyes fixed on him. His mouth formed the ghost of a smile. He looked down at his notebook.

  ‘It was clear from my interviews of all of you, and from reading the witness statements, that there had been a great tension between Miss Manderson and her aunt. They did not seem to see eye to eye on any subject. They argued on two or three occasions and relations between them could be said to be strained. Mrs Cowdrey seemed not to enjoy Miss Manderson’s visit at all, yet she wanted her to remain at St Martins indefinitely.’ He paused and consulted his notes.

  ‘This seemed at odds with the idea of allowing Miss Manderson to stay with the family at all. Why allow her to come and visit, but take no pleasure in her company? And why then attempt to persuade or demand that Miss Manderson leave London and make her home permanently at St Martins when you appeared to detest everything about her? Mrs Cowdrey stated that she expected Miss Manderson’s support against Miss Cowdrey’s desire to marry Mr Clarke, with whom she was in love. Additionally, D—er—Miss Manderson was to provide companionship for Miss Cowdrey and help her to forget Mr Clarke. But to my way of thinking, this does not appear to be sufficient reason to have someone under your roof when the two of you just don’t like one another, and there is no legal or familial sense of responsibility to do so.’

  ‘Why did Miss Manderson accept the invitation in the first place? That at least appears to be simple enough to answer. Miss Manderson wanted to get to know her natural mother with whom to that point she had only a distant aunt-and-niece relationship. But was that all? A brief look into Miss Manderson’s business affairs immediately revealed a small financial deficit which potentially could increase and leave Miss Manderson drastically out of pocket.’

  ‘Bloody women in business,’ Leo said. His father nodded.

  William felt terrible about what he’d just said, and a glance at both Dottie and her mother showed that they were equally unhappy about it. Dottie’s cheeks were burning with embarrassment. She folded her arms and refused to look at him. Inwardly he sighed. He’d have to apologise for this later.

  ‘On the face of it, it appeared at least vaguely possible that Miss Manderson had a financial motive for her visit to St Martins. A member of staff told the police they had heard Mrs Cowdrey arguing in the morning room the night before she died. And not for the first time. It was known that Mrs Cowdrey and Miss Manderson had agreed that the visit should be concluded as soon as possible. In fact, on the morning Miss Manderson discovered Mrs Cowdrey’s dead body, she had already made up her mind to leave the following day.’

  ‘Oh no!’ wailed Imogen, clutching at Dottie. Dottie patted Imogen’s arm and turned a furious look on William. Forcing himself to ignore her, he continued.

  ‘Of course from the outset the visit went awry. Miss Manderson arrived on the wrong day, a full week earlier than expected. But even so, the house was not empty when she knocked on the front door. Someone was there, upstairs, and deliberately ignored her knock. So Miss Manderson went to the village pub for the night, had telephone conversations with her mother in London, who, very late that evening, was finally able to reach her sister and inform her of Miss Manderson’s arrival. At that point it came to light that Mrs Cowdrey had not invited Miss Manderson to stay at all, but in fact the invitation had been sent by Miss Cowdrey disguised as coming from her mother.

  ‘Why was Miss Cowdrey so keen for her “cousin” to visit? Her own life was one of duty and misery. She was the butt of everyone’s jokes, ridiculed, never taken seriously, treated unkindly on a daily basis by her parents and her siblings. Perhaps she thought it would be interesting to create some tension or mischief in the house, by inviting the illegitimate daughter of her mother?’

  ‘Oh no, I didn’t. I really didn’t!’ Imogen was on her feet, tears threatening, her lip trembling. She threw her hands out to her family. ‘Tell him I would never do such a thing!’

  Guy shrugged. Lewis looked away. Leo frowned.

  ‘Imogen please,’ he said. ‘Sit down and stop making a fool of yourself.’

  Dottie felt revolted by them. As Imogen fell back into her chair, Dottie hugged her.

  ‘It’s all right, he’s just talking about possibilities. aren’t you? Inspector?’ Dottie added. She gave him an angry look.

  ‘Please calm yourself, Miss Cowdrey. I’d like to continue if I may.’ His tone was gentle and Imogen appeared reassured.

  ‘Damn well hurry it up, man.’ It was Leo again, still angry, still prickly.

  ‘Miss Cowdrey is known to be in love with Mr Clarke, but this was deeply disapproved of by her family, especially Mrs Cowdrey. So much so, she actually paid Mr Clarke a substantial sum of money to leave her daughter alone. Isn’t that true, Miss Cowdrey?’

  Tears spilled down Imogen’s face. She nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘You waited for him to meet you as usual in the rose garden on the night of his attack, but he didn’t arrive, did he?’

  Imogen shook her head.

  ‘Or did he?’ Hardy asked softly. ‘As we now know, he had been attacked, and left for dead amongst the trees at the edge of the lawn. Perhaps you did meet him after all.’

  Imogen was sobbing now.

  Dottie was furious. ‘William! Stop it! You can’t possibly believe that Imogen would actually attack Norris. She loves him.’

  ‘People have attacked those they love. People can conceal their true feelings, indeed their true natures, lying and manipulating. Miss Cowdrey lied and manipulated. Or people can bottle things up until they can’t hold back any longer, and then they lash out in a fit of rage. Miss Cowdrey has also shown that she is emotional and had a tendency to act on impulse. In fact it seems clear that someone intended to capitalise on that by suggesting that Miss Cowdrey was mentally unstable.’

  ‘Now look here!’ Lewis was on his feet in defence of his daughter. But he subsided equally as quickly, quelled by a single look from the inspector.

  ‘And you sir. Mr Cowdrey—a downtrodden husband, no longer the head of your household but despised and undermined at every turn by your wife.’

  ‘It didn’t touch me. Not at all. It was water off a duck’s back,’ Lewis insisted, leaning back appearing relaxed and without a worry in the world.

  ‘Didn’t touch you?’ Hardy quirked an eyebrow at him. Ticking the points off on his fingers, he said, ‘One, your wife was unfaithful to you and had a child by another man. Two, she lorded it over you in your ancestral home, and refusing to contribute a penny of her own money to assist you in repairing your home, even though it is in dire need of maintenance. Three, she treated you with ridicule and disrespect in front of your friends, family and acquaintances. Four, she invited her illegitimate child here to stay under your roof, parading her guilt in front of you without remorse or shame. You have a remarkable collection of antique weapons. Perhaps you simply tired of the whole charade and took one up and killed her with it.’

  A stunned silence fell on the room. They looked at Lewis. He was pale, but still composed. He shook his head, even attempted a smile.

  ‘Not at all. I was immune to my wife’s behaviour. I knew about Dottie, had always known. And having met her, found her to be a delightful and charming young woman, a breath of fresh air. As to the rest, my wife was well aware of my lengthy involvement with my mistress, as were my children. My love for Maria is something I’ve barely troubled to hide. And I may say, that is why my wife’s infidelity and coldness towards me could not touch me. With regards to this house, I am in the habit of leaving it to my son Leo to deal with, I don’t care if this revolting millstone stands or falls. It can crumble into the dust for all I care.’

  Dottie almost felt like cheering at this speech. If Hardy was surprised at how neatly he was rebutted he said nothing, merely nodding and saying, ‘Ah yes, your son Leo.’

  Leo immediately sat up straight. ‘Oh it’s my turn is it? I wondered when you’d get round to me.’ H
e pointed a finger at Hardy. ‘Now just you look here...’

  ‘With Mrs Cowdrey out of the way, Leo Cowdrey stood to inherit a neat little sum. Not enough to make him a millionaire perhaps. No. Doubtless he is relying on his father-in-law’s demise to do that. But the money Cecilia Cowdrey left would certainly be enough to carry out the most pressing repairs to St Martins. The roof, for example. It’s widely known how much Leo loves the estate, and his strong sense of duty and honour have made him work hard to do what he can to manage the estate, as well as becoming Sir Stanley Sissons’s right hand man over the last few years.’

  ‘You shall be hearing from my solicitor,’ Leo said tersely. He was on his feet and heading for the door. ‘Out of my way, Palmer.’

  ‘Don’t make me bop you on the nose again, Cowdrey,’ Palmer warned.

  ‘Calm down Mr Cowdrey, please. Kindly resume your seat. Should you wish to make a formal complaint, you will of course be entirely free to do so once I’ve finished.’

  For a full minute Leo Cowdrey and William Hardy faced one another. Leo was sizing the inspector up. His intake of breath signalled his decision to back down. Not that he did so graciously. Still muttering under his breath, he returned to his place on the sofa. Dottie only caught a couple of rude words and the phrase, ‘jumped up little nobody’.

  ‘But Leo Cowdrey did not kill his mother,’ Hardy continued as if nothing had happened. Dottie looked at him. She was impressed, in spite of her ruffled pride, at the way he was laying it all out before them. ‘Leo is as passive as his father, his position as the independent eldest son with his own home makes him almost impervious to the actions of both of his parents. In addition, his confidence in his father-in-law’s regard for him has convinced him that he has only to wait patiently to reap his reward from that quarter. But if Leo Cowdrey had little motive or taste for murder, then I had to ask myself if the same held true for his brother Guy.’

  There was a slight pause. No one spoke. Even Guy, Dottie noted, was as enthralled as if he listened to a radio play about someone wholly unrelated to himself. Hardy turned the page of his notebook. He looked around at his audience. All eyes were on him, and he was completely at ease.

  ‘Guy Cowdrey is in many ways the image of his father; selfish, disinterested in his family, showing little inclination for work or for the estate that supports him. He has had a string of fines related to drunkenness, has been bound over twice for assault, again drink-related, and is suspected of drug-taking and illegal gambling. He owes a considerable amount of money as a result of his addition to poker playing. A problem that would be eased by the sudden acquisition of a lump sum. Again, he’d hardly be set up for the rest of his life. But the money would be very welcome all the same. Of course, it could be argued that with the Cowdrey estate paying his day to day living expenses, and giving nothing in return, Guy Cowdrey actually already is set up for life.’

  ‘Oh come on!’ Guy jeered. He looked around, seeking support from his family. No one spoke. No one moved.

  ‘Things have been quite difficult lately, however. Haven’t they, Mr Cowdrey? It was in fact you who argued with your mother that night, and not Miss Manderson as was originally believed.’

  Guy was on his feet. ‘No, please. I must insist we discuss this in private. It’s not at all what you think. I really must insist...’

  ‘You don’t want it to come out?’ Hardy suggested.

  Guy’s face was white, his forehead dotted with perspiration. In almost a whisper, he said, ‘Please, Inspector. Please. I’m begging you, don’t say another word about this...’

  Hardy could almost feel sorry for the man. Everyone was looking from Guy to Hardy and back again, trying to work out what was going on. Dottie had a strong suspicion she knew exactly what Hardy was about to say. Her heart was in her mouth. Beside her, Imogen was holding her breath; she looked terrified.

  Palmer came over to encourage Guy to take his seat. With another, ‘Please, inspector.’ Guy sat down, and as Hardy began to speak, he hid his head in his hands.

  ‘Mrs Cowdrey had made a discovery. And it was going to change your life. She had told you to leave the house immediately because she was so angry about this discovery.’

  Guy shoulders heaved. Only now did Dottie realise he was actually weeping into his hands.

  Leo frowned. ‘What the hell...’

  June said, ‘Really inspector, this is blatant bullying. I’m sure it’s not legal. There can be no need at all for all of this.’

  ‘Oh but there is, Mrs Cowdrey,’ Hardy said softly. ‘Because what your mother-in-law had found out was that Guy Cowdrey and yourself had been having an affair.’

  Silence fell on the room. Dottie felt as though time stood still. Several clocks in the room hammered out the seconds. Leo gaped at Hardy, unable to take it in. Suddenly, June was on her feet.

  ‘How dare you!’ She raised a hand to slap Hardy’s face, but he easily caught her wrist and put her back into her seat. For a moment everything was still. Then the sound of Guy’s weeping caught his brother’s attention.

  Leo looked at his wife. He gasped, a ragged, hastily-gulped inward breath.

  ‘You bitch,’ he said. He didn’t even shout it.

  She blustered. ‘But Leo, darling, you can’t possibly believe this rubbish! It’s a filthy lie.’

  But Guy’s shaking shoulders, the tears leaking between his fingers told the truth. Leo looked as though he was reliving every moment in his mind: the gardening; the walks; the odd disappearances; the easy teasing conversations between his wife and his brother. The gifts.

  Leo was on his feet before anyone was ready for it, hauling Guy off the sofa and pounding his fist into Guy’s face.

  Hardy, Palmer and Lewis Cowdrey ran forward to separate the men. It was several minutes before it was safe to let Leo go. He collapsed finally, sobbing against the sofa that had no doubt held him as a small boy when his dog died, when his grandmother died.

  Mrs Manderson crossed the room to pour Leo and Guy a brandy. Both took it and downed it in one. Lewis looked disappointed not to get a drink, and went to fetch his own.

  Mrs Manderson, sitting neatly on the sofa beside Dottie once more, said, ‘Do continue, Inspector.’

  Hardy immediately said, ‘But Guy Cowdrey did not kill his mother.’

  Everyone looked at him in surprise. Even Guy looked bewildered, Dottie thought.

  Hardy said, ‘No he didn’t. He didn’t care in the slightest for anything his mother or this estate had to offer him. All he cared about was June Cowdrey. And she had money enough for both of them. Or would have, on her father’s death. Then they could go off into the sunset together, scouring the world for rare and exotic herbs. That was all he wanted. And if it was hard to wait to be together, well at last he had their assignations to look forward to. They met regularly. They were here together on the day that Miss Manderson arrived and knocked on the front door one week early.’

  ‘I don’t understand, inspector. If you’re saying none of us killed my wife, then who on earth is the murderer?’ Lewis frowned.

  ‘It must have been some passing madman,’ Imogen said.

  ‘Or Norris Clarke,’ Lewis said. ‘I’ve been saying all along he’s a rum sort.’

  Before Imogen could react to that, June said, ‘Or the person who’s been behind all the thefts lately.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Hardy with the suggestion of a smile. ‘The thief of St Martins. It’s true that the thief could have had a motive for killing Mrs Cowdrey.’ He looked at Imogen.

  She was pale. Her hands clasped one another tightly. Her whole frame was tense and expectant, as if she waited for an axe to fall. Dottie put out a hand to cover Imogen’s.

  ‘She could have,’ he emphasised. ‘But she didn’t.’

  ‘She? You mean Imogen? You’re saying Imogen stole all those things?’ Lewis frowned at his daughter. ‘I can hardly believe it. Why would she do such a thing? Imogen?’

  She was perfectly composed as she said,
‘To run away, of course. I wanted to run away. And then when I met Norris, and he was so kind to me and paid attention to me, it was him I wanted to run away with. Anything to get away from all of you.’

  ‘I even thought for a while that you had made the wreath, Imogen,’ Dottie said. ‘The wreath of flowers that were wrapped around your mother’s fingers. I’m sorry to say that I suspected you at that point. I knew that you had the book of Shakespeare’s Hamlet in your room, I’d seen it on your shelf. You had quoted from it earlier when you said, ‘get thee to a nunnery’. That’s what Hamlet says to Ophelia.

  ‘Then you see, you seemed to know so much about plants. You explained a few things to me when Guy and June showed me around the herb garden. Then there was the gardening twine that had been used to tie the wreath. Leo found it beside your mother’s body when he bent to comfort you. He saw it was the same as their twine. Though I don’t imagine twine varies a great deal from one place to another. But Leo saw it and worried that it might look bad, I suppose. So he took it, and I imagine he probably burnt it or something.’ She shot a look at Leo, but he was looking at the floor.

  ‘Then too,’ Dottie said, ‘Imogen was deeply unhappy, and we could say that her mother stood between Imogen and her happiness with Norris. So that was another reason I suspected her. Perhaps she had been so desperate she had lashed out. There was also the scrap of fabric that was caught up in the wreath. It was a sample from one of my designs. As we now know, Imogen stole my designs, so she could have put the sample amongst the flowers of the wreath to implicate me.’

  ‘But she didn’t,’ Hardy repeated. ‘As we now know.’

  ‘No, she didn’t,’ Dottie said. ‘In prison I had plenty of time to think. I thought about the thefts. And how several of them were Imogen’s own things. Then it occurred to me that if there was somewhere to hide small, potentially valuable items, then the screen had to be one of the best. Imogen stole the items and hid them in the back of the screen that Norris was helping her to restore. Between the front cover and the back, it’s essentially a hollow box, wide and shallow. Perfect for small items. When I got out of prison, I went into Imogen’s sitting room whilst she was at the hospital with Norris. Later, I took Inspector Hardy in there to show him what I’d found. I found the things straight away hidden in the screen, at the bottom. Part of the cover was only pinned. It seemed clear, she would take things from time to time, and would give them to Norris to sell them in his shop.’