by Carola Dunn
Mackinnon nodded. “Your touch didn’t alter the position in any way?”
“Not at all.”
“Two minutes is up,” came the impatient voice of the doctor.
“Another thirty seconds. Does the face still seem familiar?”
“I don’t know. I honestly can’t say.”
He sighed. “No, a fleeting impression is hard to rediscover. Look more closely, please.”
Daisy complied. She stared at the short blond hair under the wig, at the petulant mouth and obstinate chin. Or was she reading too much into the features of a dead woman? “I still think there’s something odd, but I can’t pin it down.”
“Excuse me.” He joined her in the now-cramped space. Lifting one of the limp hands, he eased off the glove. “And now?”
The hand revealed was square and strong, not really surprising. Nannies needed capable hands. The fingers were blunt-tipped, with short, manicured nails. Daisy couldn’t see any distinguishing mark—ring, scar, or missing finger—by which she might be expected to recognise it.
“No,” she said, puzzled. “But … Good heavens, she’s not—” In spite of a vague suspicion, a glance at the body’s torso startled her. No bosom! How had she failed to notice? “It’s a man? I don’t believe it!”
SEVEN
“And then the doctor put his foot down,” Daisy told Sakari, “and insisted on making his examination. Mr. Mackinnon didn’t get round to confirming or denying my guess.”
“Perhaps the inspector is not certain, Daisy, until the doctor has examined her … or him. Or perhaps it is a hijra, one of those unfortunate creatures such as we have in India that are neither one nor the other.”
“A hermaphrodite? I suppose it’s possible,” Daisy said doubtfully. “It wouldn’t explain the disguise, nor what he’s doing dead in the lavs. Nor why he seems familiar.”
Charlie came over so they dropped the subject.
“Thank you for the lunch, Aunt Sakari,” he said with a punctiliousness probably coached by Belinda, to which he added his own enthusastic coda: “It was a smashing spread! Aunt Daisy, may we go and explore some more? We may never have another chance,” he said mournfully.
“In your togas? Good gracious no!”
“I didn’t get a chance to look at the monsters properly. No one would notice us in the park. We could sneak behind the bushes like we did before.”
“Not even in the park. Besides, Detective Inspector Mackinnon may want to talk to you.”
Charlie heaved a sigh. “Then when are we going home?”
“Patience! Not until Nanny Gilpin is fit to be moved. And Truscott gets back here.”
“By the way, Daisy, when Belinda and I fetched the lunch baskets, I rang home to tell Kesin not to wait until five o’clock but to bring the car back here right away.”
“Oh, good. I’ll go and see how Mrs. Gilpin is doing.”
“Mrs. Tring seems a very competent nurse,” said Sakari.
“She was a VAD during the war.”
Daisy went over to the sofa where Mrs. Gilpin lay, with Mrs. Tring sitting close by knitting. Eyes closed, the nurse was very pale, her lips bloodless. “How is she?” Daisy asked in a low voice.
“None so bad, considering. She’s best not fussed, and so I shall tell the inspector. I hope Tom’s just watching and listening, not interfering?”
“He’s being very discreet. I forgot he was there.”
Mrs. Tring sighed. “He does miss the job, and that’s the truth.”
“I’m so very glad he’s here. I don’t know what we’d have done without him.”
“Managed very well, I don’t doubt, Mrs. Fletcher,” she said tartly, but she looked pleased.
“And that goes for you, too.”
“Nonsense!”
“Truly. Nursing is not my forte. I’ll hire a nurse to take care of Mrs. Gilpin at home.”
“I was wondering if you might let me take care of her. I take an interest in the poor creature already, and besides, you wouldn’t have to worry about her rambling in her mind and maybe saying things none but the police ought to hear.”
“What a good idea! I’d much rather have someone I know and trust. I’d pay you the same as any agency nurse, of course.”
“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Fletcher, though I don’t deny I wouldn’t mind earning a bit of pocket money.”
“So you shall.”
“You’ll let me break it to Tom, if you don’t mind. There’s no knowing how he’ll take it.”
“Tell him you’ll be doing me a favour. How soon shall we able to take her home?”
“She could be moved now, if we can get the stretcher back. Better wait for the inspector, don’t you think?”
“Truscott and Kesin won’t be here for a while yet, anyway.”
Belinda came over. “Mummy,” she whispered, “mayn’t we please sneak into the back of the Roman gallery, just to show Charlie what a toga ought to look like? The entrance is only just across the passage from the ladies’ room. If anyone’s there, we won’t go in, and if anyone comes, we’ll leave right away.”
“All right, go! Back here in ten minutes flat. And if you start any rumours about the ghosts of ancient Romans—”
“Oh, Mummy, no one will see us, honestly.” Bel fled before Daisy could change her mind.
“Weak of me, I know, but they’ve been pretty patient.”
“They’re the heroes of the hour, remember.”
“Their hour is past. I wish Mr. Mackinnon would get on with it.”
“More haste, less speed.”
“I daresay. But I, for one, am heartily sick of sitting about in a ladies’ room, and I do believe the smell of Jeyes gets stronger by the minute.”
“Have you had anything to eat?”
“No,” said Daisy, surprised. “I recall picking up a sandwich. I must have put it down somewhere. I haven’t had a moment to think about it.”
“You have a moment now, and I expect you’ll feel much better for it.”
Sakari, foreseeing her need, had poured a mug of soup and prepared a plate of food. Daisy was finishing off a second sandwich when the children returned, giggling. Though quite certain she’d be happier to remain in ignorance of the cause of their glee, she was equally certain she ought to investigate.
Mackinnon’s reappearance allowed her to evade the decision. He came towards her. She noticed that he had left Tom Tring at the cubby between the two rooms, talking to Mrs. Hatch. If anyone could extract information from that poor bewildered woman, Tom was the man. Alec had always relied on his way with servants, especially female. Mackinnon was sensible to utilise his abilities even though he was retired.
Daisy wished she could hear what was being said.
“Mrs. Fletcher, I’d like to talk to the children now.”
“Before Mrs. Gilpin?”
“Yes, I’m hoping they’ll give me a better idea of what I need to ask her. Besides, you must be wanting to get them home, dry, and properly clothed.” He had a straight face and a twinkle in his eye.
“We’ve got to wait for our cars. I can’t imagine how I’m going to get the boys out to them without causing a scandal.”
“That, I’m happy to say, is entirely up to you.”
“If you have any bright ideas, let me know. The same goes for Mrs. Gilpin as for them. She ought to be in bed.”
“I’ll wait until she is before I see her.”
“You don’t believe she just slipped and fell and knocked her head?”
“I’ll not rule out the possibility, Mrs. Fletcher, but there are altogether too many nannies in this story to just ignore them. When she’s more comfortable, likely she’ll be better able to give her mind to remembering. You may take her home as soon as convenient.”
“Thank you! Sakari,” she called to her friend, who had moved to a discreet distance, “we can take Mrs. Gilpin home as soon as Truscott or Kesin gets here, if we arrange for a stretcher to carry her to the street. Would you mind
awfully—”
“Leave it to me, Daisy.”
“Mrs. Prasad, please make use of the uniformed constables outside as errand boys.”
Belinda and Ben exchanged a swift glance.
“We don’t mind running errands,” said Ben.
“We’d like to run errands,” said Charlie. “It’s pretty dull here.”
“Dressed like that?” said Sakari dryly. “I think not.”
Mackinnon intervened. “I want to talk to the three of you.”
The glories of being interrogated by the police narrowly outshone those of running errands in togas. Mackinnon sat them down in a row on a sofa opposite a pair of chairs for Daisy and himself. Bel and Ben were solemn. Charlie wriggled.
“I’ve heard what happened from Sergeant Tring,” said Mackinnon. “Now I want to hear from you, all the details, and why you acted as you did.”
“Are we in trouble?” asked Charlie, not visibly troubled by the prospect.
Mackinnon grinned. “Not from me, laddie. You probably saved Mrs. Gilpin’s life. The police like people who save lives, when they don’t put themselves in danger.”
“Good.”
“We didn’t put ourselves in danger,” Ben affirmed. “We hid behind statues and trees and bushes all the way.”
“Nearly all the way,” Belinda corrected conscientiously. “There weren’t any in the passage, at the beginning.”
“Tell me about the beginning, what got you started.”
They all started talking at once. The story proceeded with many interruptions and digressions, Mackinnon patiently sorting out the relevant from the irrelevant. As for Daisy, she continued to veer between dismay at their having embarked on the quest in the first place, gladness that they had been on hand to rescue Nanny Gilpin, and admiration at their persistence.
To those mixed emotions was added intense curiosity about the third nanny. If she had nothing to do with the male masquerader’s death, why had she fled?
Daisy could think of only one reason, and Mackinnon seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
“How tall was the nanny Mrs. Gilpin was following?” he asked.
“Ever so tall,” Charlie said promptly. “Tall as a tree.”
“He’s such a shrimp, he thinks everyone is tall.”
“Most grown-ups look tall to us,” Belinda pointed out.
“You didn’t happen to notice how the nurse’s height compared with the people you passed?”
“Too many statues,” said Ben succinctly.
Bel agreed. “You feel as if you’re surrounded by gigantic people all the time. All the real people are like midgets.”
“Och, I know well what you mean. Didn’t I feel like a dwarf myself walking among them!”
“But other people are still bigger than us.”
“And lots of the statues are rude,” Charlie added sotto voce.
Mackinnon bit his lip and hastily asked, “Did you notice, by the way, how the nanny walked?”
“Fast,” said Charlie. “We had to run.”
“Show me. All of you: Walk across the room pretending you’re imitating … her.”
The exercise didn’t seem useful to Daisy. Belinda walked fast with small ladylike steps; Ben strode along; and Charlie pranced.
Mackinnon shook his head. “Thank you. Did you happen to see her face well enough to recognise it if you saw it again?”
Three more heads shook in unison.
“She only ever glanced back.”
“And she was too far away, anyway.”
“When we first saw her,” said Bel, “she was close and coming towards us, right past us, but she kept her head down. All you could see was her hat.”
“Not her hair? The colour of her hair?”
They all shook their heads again.
“Too much to hope for. Thin or fat?”
“She was wearing a cape,” Belinda told him. “You couldn’t tell.”
“All right, that’ll be all for now. I’d like you to keep thinking about it, though. You might remember something more. Thank you for your help.”
“We haven’t been much help,” said Ben, “not really.”
“You’d be surprised. So far, I’m just getting a feel for what’s happened. You have filled in parts of the picture. Like a jigsaw puzzle. Every piece you add gives you a better idea of what the rest is like.”
“I like jigsaw puzzles,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I’ll be a policeman when I grow up.”
“Sounds like a good plan, laddie. Off you go, now.”
“Ask Aunt Sakari and Mrs. Tring if there’s anything you can do for them.”
“What do you think, Mrs. Fletcher,” said Mackinnon, “can I rely on their evidence?”
“They didn’t contradict each other, not seriously. I’m not sure I’d trust Charlie once he’s had time for his imagination to get to work. The other two are reliable.”
Tom joined them.
“Any luck, Sarge?”
“Not much, sir.” He glanced at Daisy, who tried to look as if her attention was elsewhere. The inspector gestured to Tom to go on. “Mrs. Hatch is the name, Mavis Hatch. Nice old bird, still working to support a couple of great-grandchildren. Eighty-three years old, she informs me, and a one for the boys in her youth. The truth of the matter is, she remembers those days better than she does today’s doings.”
“She can’t remember anything at all?” Mackinnon asked in dismay.
“Very little. Her eyesight and hearing aren’t anything to write home about, either, and she dozes a lot. She has a vague impression of noticing several nannies all at once, but she can’t say how many. She remembers being surprised at not noticing any children with them. The Palace isn’t a place people bring babies, which they might leave outside the ladies. Little kiddies have to tag along and they usually make enough disturbance to draw her attention.”
“Hm, I’m not sure where that gets us. She couldn’t even say whether more than two nannies had gone through to the lavs at the same time?”
Tom shook his head, the electric light gleaming on the hairless dome. “If she had, I wouldn’t take her word for it.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing worth hearing. I’ll write you up my notes same as if I was still on the force.”
“Thanks, Sarge. If there’s anything good about this case, it’s that you were on the spot.”
“And Mrs. Fletcher,” Tom said loyally.
“A mixed blessing,” Mackinnon muttered almost silently, softly enough for Daisy to ignore it.
Besides, it was hard to disagree. One way or another, it was going to be impossible to keep Alec in ignorance. She shuddered when she considered his probable reaction. Unless Mackinnon had picked up some thread to follow that she had missed, he was likely to ask for help from the Yard. Her involvement made it almost certain Alec would be put in charge, if he came back from Bristol in time.
Assuming the masquerader had not died a natural death: As if in answer to Daisy’s thought, the divisional surgeon appeared from the inner room, followed by the photographer and fingerprint officer.
The latter pair sketched salutes towards the inspector. At his nod, they departed. The doctor came over. He glanced at Daisy and gave Mackinnon a questioning look.
“Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher. I’ll call in Hampstead tomorrow to see whether Mrs. Gilpin is recovering and whether you or the children have remembered anything more. If you need help with getting everyone out to the street, just call on the constables outside the door.”
“Thanks.” Reluctantly Daisy rose. Tom followed suit, but Mackinnon waved him back to his seat.
“Please stay, Mr. Tring.”
Fuming, Daisy rejoined Sakari and Mrs. Tring. They had worked out a plan to get everyone away without having to parade through the length of the Palace.
“Thanks to Ben,” said Sakari, “the more because he and Charlie would have liked to show off their togas. He consulted the map in his guidebook
and found a gate to the street quite close by, if we go out by the north end. At my request, one of Mr. Mackinnon’s men went to instruct the bobby on duty outside the main entrance to keep an eye out for the two cars and redirect them thither.”
“Oh good. Where are the boys?” Daisy asked.
“As soon as Tom finished with Mrs. Hatch,” Mrs. Tring explained, “we sent them to beg, borrow, or buy a laundry bag from her and collect their wet clothes.”
“What a good idea. I’ll go and ring Cousin Geraldine to make sure Truscott is on his way. If not, I’ll hire a car.” As she turned to the exit, Mackinnon was already leaving and Tom was coming towards them. “I just want a quick word with Mr. Tring first.”
“How can I help you, Mrs. Fletcher?” asked Tom.
Daisy drew him aside. “Did the doctor find out what he died of?”
“Ah.” Tom ruminated, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve been told not to talk about it, but seeing I can’t get the sack, and seeing it’s you, Mrs. Fletcher, I’ll say this much. Dr. Watchett discovered the immediate cause of death, but not what caused it.”
“That’s a riddle, not an answer!”
“’Fraid so.”
“What was the immediate cause?”
He shook his head, his moustache twitching as he grinned. “Sorry, it’s not for me to say.”
Daisy made a moue. “What about the time of death? Did he give you that?”
“At least half an hour, not more than two hours, before he arrived. But he could have been some time dying.”
“How horrible! Do you … do they know who he is?”
“No idea. He had no papers on him, no laundry marks on his clothes, nothing. DI Mackinnon is counting on you to come through, to identify the elusive familiarity you claimed.”
“Oh dear!” said Daisy.
EIGHT
The next morning, as soon as she had bathed and dressed, Daisy went up to the nursery. Bertha had all under control, the twins chattering happily as they dipped toast fingers in their soft-boiled eggs.
“Oh yes, madam, they’re behaving ever so well. After breakfast, we’ll do our ABCs, won’t we, kiddies, and then walk to the Heath when it’s warmed up a bit. Lovely day it is.”
