by Carola Dunn
Daisy laughed. “I expect you’ve had plenty of practice with Tom.”
“So’ve you, with the Chief, don’t forget. I can’t believe a uniform sergeant’s going to bother you.”
“Not for long, anyway, with Inspector Mackinnon on his way.”
She didn’t have to test her mettle against Wimbish. Perhaps cravenly, he sent two constables, as Daisy discovered when she went to answer a knock on the door. The elder of the pair was a grizzled veteran. The other was very young and very red-faced.
“Come in, officers,” she invited. “I’m Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Are there any ladies,” the senior asked warily, “in a state of undress?”
“No.” Daisy suppressed an urge to add, “Not even the deceased.”
He took off his helmet. Stepping in, he glanced round the room as if half-fearful, half-hoping that a scantily clad houri would appear out of the woodwork. Mrs. Tring, large, placid, and busy with her knitting, both disappointed and relieved him. “Just two of you, are there?”
“As you see. This is Mrs. Tring.”
“Where’s Sergeant Tring? I was told he’s here.”
“He was needed elsewhere,” said Mrs. Tring tranquilly. “He’ll be back before the inspector gets here.” She laid a slight stress on the word “inspector.”
The reminder of the imminent arrival of his superior punctured the constable’s officiousness. “Thank you, madam.” Suddenly he swung round, pointed, and snapped, “Who’s that?”
Startled, Daisy looked. No one was visible, but he must have caught sight of Mrs. Hatch, she realised. Hearing the male voice, she must have popped her head out to see what was going on. Not that she could see much, poor woman.
“The attendant, Mrs. Hatch,” she said to the constable. “I forgot about her. Inspector Mackinnon is sure to want to talk to her.”
“Why? Did she see what happened?”
“Doubtless that will be one of the questions he asks her.”
Disconcerted, he snapped at the young constable, who had followed him in and stayed uncertainly by the door. “On guard outside. Don’t let anyone in.”
“What about Inspector Mackinnon?”
“Well, of course.”
“And Sergeant Tring?”
“I suppose so.”
“As if that pipsqueak could stop my Tom!” Mrs. Tring murmured just loud enough for Daisy to hear.
They smiled at each other and Daisy sat down beside her to wait. The constable paced back and forth. To Daisy, he seemed to be approaching closer and closer to the unfortunate Mrs. Hatch, huddled invisibly in her cubby. Daisy wondered if she’d need to go to the rescue.
Before she had to decide, the door opened. Tom entered.
“Constable, come and lend a hand.”
Responding to his authoritative voice, the man didn’t argue. They both went out, leaving the door open. Through the doorway came the confused sound of a crowd.
“I can’t abide people with nothing better to do than gawk at other people’s business,” said Mrs. Tring.
Outside, the voices of the two constables rose: “Move along, there. Move along, please.”
Tom returned. After him came two tired attendants wheeling a folding stretcher, then Sakari and Belinda carrying baskets, and last Ben and Charlie, both soaked to the skin. Daisy was afraid their lips would have been blue if not for their dark skin.
“I rescued Mrs. Nanny’s hat,” Charlie explained proudly.
Mrs. Gilpin’s lips were blue although she was swathed in blankets. She lay inert on the stretcher and didn’t stir as the men transferred her to a sofa. As Mrs. Tring bustled about rearranging cushions to make her comfortable, Daisy tipped the stretcher men generously.
“You fellows,” said Mrs. Tring, “and Tom, please go away. We must get her wet things off.”
“Bring dry blankets,” Sakari commanded.
“Boys, don’t go,” said Daisy. “Into the other room with you and don’t touch anything. Don’t you dare open any of the doors. Mrs. Tring, I’ll get you some towels. Belinda, come and help.”
As Daisy hoped, Mrs. Hatch had a good supply of replacement roller towels. Though the same thin linen cloth as the hand napkins, their size made them much more useful. After another generous tip to the attendant, she was permitted to carry off two-thirds of them. She kept four and had Belinda take the rest to Mrs. Tring.
The four she took through to the lavatories. The boys stood sodden and shivering in the middle of the floor.
“We’re frightfully cold, Aunt Daisy.”
“Here.” She handed each two towels. “Strip off. Use one to dry yourself. I’m sure you have sufficient ingenuity to turn the others into some sort of toga to make yourselves decent.”
Leaving, she heard Charlie ask in a loud whisper, “What’s ‘sufficient ingenuity’?”
“Clever enough.”
“What’s a toga?”
“It’s a thing the Romans wear. I learned about them in Latin. I’ll show you a picture when we get home. Come on, get undressed.”
“I can’t undo my tie. It’s got in a knot.”
“Here, I’ll do it.”
Daisy turned at the door. “By the way, I’m proud of you both. I’ll be telling Aunt Geraldine and Uncle Edgar what a good job you did. You may have saved Mrs. Gilpin’s life.”
Mrs. Gilpin had been stripped and dried by Sakari and Mrs. Tring, as attested by a heap of crumpled towels and a neat stack of wet, folded clothes. They were wrapping her in a blanket that presumably wasn’t damp.
“How is she doing?” Daisy asked, approaching.
“Nasty bump on the back of her head,” said Mrs. Tring.
“I would put ice on it,” said Sakari, “if she were not so cold.”
“Is she bleeding?”
“It’s just a graze. Mrs. Tring cleaned it.”
“Mrs. Fletcher?” The nurse’s voice wavered. Her eyes blinked open. “What happened?”
“Mrs. Gilpin! How do you feel?”
“My head aches terribly, madam. What happened? Did I fall?”
“We’re hoping you can tell us.”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t remember.” Suddenly her eyes opened again, wild with alarm, and she struggled against the enveloping blanket. “The twins! Where are the twins?”
Daisy put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back, saying, “They’re perfectly all right. Bertha looked after them and took them home in Lady Dalrymple’s car.”
“Oh, thank heaven.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I should never have left them!”
Though Daisy agreed, this was not the time to say so. “What do you remember?”
“I went to the … the ladies’ convenience. Is that where we are?”
“Yes. In the retiring room.”
“So the pool and the monsters were just a bad dream.”
Daisy saw Belinda begin to speak and gave her a slight frown.
Nurse Gilpin went on, “I don’t see how I came to fall. The floor wasn’t slippery. And how did I get so wet?” Her wandering gaze fell on Bel and filled with suspicion. “Unless Miss Belinda threw a bucket of—”
“I did not! I wouldn’t play such a scurvy trick. I and the boys rescued you—”
“That will do, Bel. I heard a knock on the door. Go and see who it is. Mrs. Gilpin, you were found in the pond at the far end of the park. Concentrate on that and perhaps you’ll remember why you went there.”
“Do not press her now, Daisy.” Sakari came with a steaming cup from the table where she and Belinda had set down the baskets. “Whatever occurred, she has had a most distressing experience. Here is some soup.”
“And here are dry blankets,” said Belinda. “The stretcher man brought them. Mummy, Detective Inspector Mackinnon presents his compliments and wants to know if he may come in.”
“Five minutes,” Mrs. Tring said firmly.
“I’d better go and talk to him,” said Daisy with a sigh. “I didn’t tell him about Nurse G
ilpin.”
“Uncle Tom’s telling him.”
“I’ll bring him up to date on her condition. He mustn’t press her too hard.”
“Will he want to ask me questions too? Me and the boys?”
“I expect so. Yes, I’m sure he will. So will I! Don’t worry, he’s a nice man. He’s worked with your father more than once.”
“And with you?”
“Well, if you want to put it that way, yes.”
“Oh, all right. Are we going to have lunch soon? I’m awfully hungry. Aunt Sakari got two picnic baskets, each for four people. People buy them to picnic in the park. There’s different kinds of sandwiches and cold chicken and hard-boiled eggs. Cakes and biscuits, too, and bottled lemonade and ginger beer.”
“As far as I’m concerned, everyone had better eat when they have a moment, but ask Sakari, darling, I’ll leave it to her.”
Daisy went out to the passage. The local police had left, she was glad to see. An unknown bobby was moving on the curious onlookers. Two plainclothesmen, one with a camera and the other with a satchel, stood looking bored. Tom, Mackinnon, and a third man, who carried a doctor’s black bag, were talking together in quiet voices. She went over to them.
“Mrs. Fletcher.” Mackinnon greeted her with a smile and a handshake. “We meet again. This is Dr. Merriam, a local practitioner.”
“How do you do, Doctor. We spoke on the telephone. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
He nodded acknowledgement. “I should like to see my patient as soon as possible, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Of course. Please go right in, Doctor—at least, that’s all right, isn’t it, Inspector?”
“Certainly. My police surgeon is on his way. When are we to be allowed in?”
“Mrs. Tring said five minutes. But as Dr. Merriam will be examining Mrs. Gilpin, I’d better check before you all troop in there.”
“Nae dout, nae dout. I can’t call to mind ever having to invade a ladies’ sanctuary before. Ye’ve talked to yon nanny?”
“A little. She seems not to be able to remember anything after leaving the twins to go to the ladies’.”
Mackinnon pounced on the doubtful word, just as Alec would have. “‘Seems’?”
“I didn’t really mean anything by it.” Daisy considered. “She says she can’t remember. I have no reason to doubt her. But it’s hard to believe she could forget walking all the way to the other end of the park and falling in a pond.”
“Not surprising,” rumbled Tom. “It’s often the case with head injuries.”
“Then, will she remember later? I’m not just being nosy. If I’m going to continue to trust her with my children, I want to know whether she had a good reason to go off when she was supposed to be looking after them. A really good reason.”
“Understood,” said Mackinnon. “I’ll keep it in mind. Would you go, please, and find out if it’s all clear?”
Daisy returned to the retiring room. Dr. Merriam was bending over Mrs. Gilpin. Sakari, Mrs. Tring, and Belinda had all seized the momentary calm to possess themselves of sandwiches. Still no sign of the boys: Daisy wondered briefly if they were having trouble with their togas. Then the doctor came over to her.
“Mrs. Fletcher, you’re my patient’s employer?”
“Yes. How is she?”
“I don’t foresee any major problems, except possibly the memory loss. But she will need to keep very quiet for a few days, with someone keeping an eye on her. Will that present any difficulty?”
“Not at all.”
“I’ll tell the detective to postpone talking to her, if possible, and if not to treat her with the utmost consideration.”
“He’s not here because of what happened to her. He may not want to question her at all.”
“That would be ideal. You may, of course, call me in if need be, though I have no objection to your consulting your own doctor.”
“We live in Hampstead. It would be frightfully inconvenient for you. I won’t bother you unless my doctor wants to consult you. Here’s my card. Send the bill to me, please.”
He bowed and took his leave. Daisy followed him to the door.
“You can come in now, Inspector.” She stepped back and he came through into the retiring room, with his plainclothesmen at his heels and Tom bringing up the rear.
At the other end of the room, the boys appeared, precariously draped in roller towels. Ben’s was slipping off his shoulder. Charlie’s dangled round his feet, in imminent danger of tripping him.
“Aunt Daisy, we need pins!”
“So I see.” She also saw that Mackinnon was valiantly striving to keep a straight face.
“Don’t worry, Daisy.” Sakari hefted her handbag. “I have pins. Boys, come into this corner out of the way.”
Charlie had spotted the food. “I’m ravenous!”
“You shall eat as soon as you’re safe from indecent exposure.”
“What’s—”
“Come on, Charlie,” his brother urged. “Don’t keep Mrs. Prasad waiting.”
“My cousins,” Daisy explained to Mackinnon. “They got soaked to the skin.”
He grinned. “Boys that age have a knack for it. Just as you have a knack for—”
“Please don’t say it!”
“All right. I shall want some details from you, though, so don’t fold your tent and steal away.”
“I shan’t.”
“Mr. Tring?”
Tom led the three detectives into the inner room. Mrs. Hatch was too cowed to protest as the four large men passed into the inner sanctum.
Daisy seized the momentary lull to snabble something to eat. The boys came to join her, looking, after Sakari’s efforts, as if they’d just stepped off the stage of Julius Caesar. “All secure?” she asked.
“As secure as a sari, Aunt Sakari said,” Ben assured her.
“And I have never lost one yet, Daisy, I promise…”
“It feels funny,” said Charlie, squirming.
“But I do not wriggle,” Sakari said severely.
Charlie froze, gripping the front of his toga as if he’d been stabbed by Brutus. “I’ll be careful. What is there to eat?”
Belinda came over just then with a request from Mrs. Tring for more soup for the invalid. After dealing with this and making sure Mrs. Tring was well fed, Daisy turned back to the boys to find Charlie with a thick slice of Battenberg cake in one hand and cherry cake in the other.
“He is on holiday, Daisy,” Sakari pointed out.
“So you let him stuff himself with—” She laughed. “Oh, all right. But you must eat some proper food after.”
“I was going to anyway,” said Charlie, injured.
“Mrs. Fletcher?” One of the detectives called her from the attendant’s cubby. “Mr. Mackinnon would like to speak to you, please.”
“In there?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Shall I go with you?”
“No, thanks, Sakari. I’d rather you kept an eye on the children.”
Ben looked as if he wanted to object that they didn’t need to be kept an eye on, but his mouth was too full.
Daisy went through, bestowing a consoling pat on Mrs. Hatch’s shoulder as she passed. The first thing she saw was a small pile of wet clothes in the middle of the room.
“Oh those boys!”
“Never mind those. At least: You confirm that they belong to your young cousins and were not here when you originally came into the room?”
“Yes. You saw them in their togas.”
“Very ingenious, too,” murmured one of the sergeants.
Mackinnon gave him a quelling glare. “I’m sorry to ask this, Mrs. Fletcher, but would you mind taking another look at the deceased?”
Daisy wanted to say that she’d mind very much. However, the inspector knew that if not exactly accustomed to dead bodies, she was by no means inexperienced. “I’d rather not, but if you think it could help…”
“Let me ask this first: Mr. Tri
ng mentioned that you had a vague feeling the face was familiar. Have you had any further thoughts, any brain wave, about who it might be?”
“I would certainly have told you if I had!” she said indignantly.
“I’m not suggesting otherwise. It’s possible that seeing it again might jog your memory.”
“I suppose so. I don’t claim to have looked awfully closely.”
“I can’t blame you. However, our first job is to identify the—”
“One of your first jobs.” The speaker, who had approached unobserved, was a tall, painfully thin man with a stoop and a sharp nose that gave him the air of a cockerel hunting for insects. He carried a black bag. “Ascertaining time of death ought not to be delayed.”
“Hello, Doctor, glad you made it. Our divisional surgeon, Mrs. Fletcher. You can give us two minutes, Dr. Watchett.”
“And not a second longer.”
“Aweel, noo.” Mackinnon looked at Daisy.
“Very well.” She steeled herself as they crossed to the end cubicle. “Her face isn’t … disfigured, is it? I don’t recall…”
“Not a bit of it. Not a mark on it. Did you touch the handle?”
“N-no. No, I didn’t. I noticed the door was ajar and I only had to push.” She put out her hand, stopping short of the polished wood. “About here.”
“Excellent.”
“But dozens of people must have touched the knob. Dabs aren’t going to help much, are they?”
“Very likely not, but you never know.” The inspector reached past her to wrap the knob with a handkerchief and delicately turn it with two fingers. The door swung open. “Do exactly what you did before, as closely as possible.”
Daisy stepped in. Her hesitant glance showed everything just as it had been before. “With her hat and wig all askew, it didn’t seem possible she was just sleeping. I couldn’t tell whether the poor thing was ill, unconscious or … or dead, so I tried to find a pulse. In her neck as she’s wearing gloves.” Reluctantly she touched the woman’s neck. It had cooled noticeably. Repressing a shudder, she drew back and turned to the inspector. “Like that. I can’t be sure of the precise spot.”
“You couldn’t find a pulse?”
“No, but I often can’t find my own. Her neck felt quite warm, warmer than it is now. I decided it was better to go for help than to keep trying.”
