The Crozier Pharaohs (Mrs. Bradley)

by Gladys Mitchell

  “She is in your mind, though, miss, or you wouldn’t have mentioned her. As for anybody else, man or woman, I suppose they would take it for granted that your dogs would be shut away by night.”

  “Why should they? Lots of people have guard dogs which are let loose to roam the garden at night. We don’t, because our hounds are too valuable for us to risk having them stolen. There’s only Sekhmet left loose and she is hardly worth stealing and certainly would be no use as a guard dog. She’s a fool and trusts everybody.”

  “Yet, according to the story we heard before the inquest and, again, at it, somebody may have made an attempt to steal her, miss, and that brings me to my next point. Our information is that somebody took the Labrador out very much earlier than usual on the day in question and the inference is that, when your kennel-maid reported the dog was missing, it had been gone for only about an hour or less, and had been taken out for a run, it seemed, by a so-far unidentified person.”

  “Well, I can assure you none of us took her out that morning.”

  “Are you sure you did not take her out yourself that morning, miss, and leave her at Watersmeet and get yourself back to the house before the kennel-maid showed up?”

  Both sisters had been firm in denying that they had left the house before breakfast that morning. Bryony dismissed the suggestion as ludicrous; Morpeth had asked plaintively why anybody should think either of them would depart so far from custom as to take that particular dog out at all.

  “Poor old Sekhmet hardly ever gets a run like the hounds,” she said. “She has all the grounds to roam and we take it in turns to play with her, throwing sticks or a ball. She never lacks exercise and we all go miles with the hounds each day and really couldn’t do with any more walking.”

  When the police had done with the Rant sisters it had been Susan’s turn. Bryony reported to Dame Beatrice what Susan had told them of the interview.

  “They asked Morpeth and me in turn to show them our hats,” said Bryony, “but, of course, neither of us ever wears a hat. A headscarf is the most we ever aspire to. Perhaps we would have hats if we ever went to church, but we never do go to church. I daresay Susan goes to early service on Sundays because she was brought up in Axehead vicarage and she is never here before about half-past nine every Sunday. We, Morpeth and I, have a long lie-in on that day of the week, but Susan’s adoptive father was the vicar of Axehead, Abbots Bay, and Abbots Crozier, so she may have formed a childhood habit of Sunday churchgoing that she can’t break. On the other hand, she also may think a long lie-in is her due on Sundays, as she is up so early during the rest of the week. We have never asked any questions. We give her breakfast when she turns up, having had ours a little earlier. As a matter of fact, Morpeth is usually out with a couple of the hounds when Susan gets here on Sundays, so I sit in the kitchen and chat with Susan while she has her bacon and egg.”

  “And you do not possess a hat of any kind?” asked Dame Beatrice.

  “Neither of us does, and I can’t imagine Susan ever wears one, even for church. Customs have changed over that sort of conventional thing. I am told that some of the holidaymakers turn up in trousers, although the present incumbent has had a strong word to say in the parish magazine about shorts and bras.”

  “Do the summer visitors read the parish magazine?” asked Laura, who was also present at the conference.

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Bryony admitted, “but perhaps they get the message in other ways. Anyway, the vicar can hardly preach a sermon about such women’s matters, although he did nip a nudist colony in the bud down at Abbots Bay last summer.”

  “The vicar couldn’t preach a sermon about women in bras and shorts?” said Laura. “I bet he would if he dared. I could give him his text, too. How about the seventh chapter of Proverbs, verse ten?”

  “We don’t know much about the Old Testament,” said Bryony.

  “You’ve missed a treat. Great stuff. I was brought up on it. May I quote?” Without waiting for the consent or otherwise of her hearers, Laura continued, “Authorised Version, of course. To my mind, there is no other worth reading. ‘Behold, there met him a woman with the attire of an harlot.’ My word! What wouldn’t I give to be in the pulpit with a text like that under my belt with which to wallop the ungodly! But perhaps, if the vicar used a text like that to rebuke the female holidaymakers, he might stir up the disapproval of another Jeanie Deans.”

  “People don’t bring their own stools to church nowadays,” said Morpeth.

  “There are always hassocks,” returned Laura.

  “We began by mentioning hats,” said Dame Beatrice. “What had hats to do with the visit from the police?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t say. They didn’t really tell us anything. They asked very politely whether we would allow the sergeant to inspect the whole of the house. They admitted they hadn’t got a search warrant. I don’t know what Morpeth thought—”

  “It scared me,” said Morpeth. “It looked as though they though I was telling a lie when I said I didn’t possess a hat. Anyway, it was better not to put obstacles in their way, so I said that, if Bryony agreed to it, I had no objection whatever to letting them search the house.”

  “I said the same,” said Bryony. “I wasn’t exactly scared, but I was a bit worried. Surely they couldn’t really have been looking for hats? I thought they were after something else, although I had no idea what it could be. However, the sergeant came back after what seemed a long time and spoke to the other officer, so the police must doubt the verdict given at the inquest and are following up a clue of some sort, I suppose.”

  “Did you hear what was said after the sergeant had searched the house?”

  “No. They moved apart from me and spoke in undertones, but I think it was to the effect that the sergeant had not found hats or anything else he had been looking for. They went away after they had seen Susan, but I don’t believe they were satisfied. I watched them out of the window and they went in the direction of the garage. It wasn’t on their way to the gate, so I don’t know what they wanted with it. We keep it locked, but they didn’t ask for the key.”

  “Do you think they had come upon some information which had caused them to visit you?”

  “Well, of course, it was not our first visit from the police. We had an inspector called Burfield after Susan found the body. He was in uniform, but these two plain-clothes men were detectives and we didn’t like that at all. As for the information, so-called, we realised where that must have come from when we remembered the five rabbits in the postbox.”

  “Rabbits in the postbox?” exclaimed Laura.

  “Oh, dead ones, of course,” said Morpeth. “Adams, the village poacher, had put them there, the day Sekhmet disappeared. We told Susan to give him his money if he called while we were out. He must have come up to the house with them early in the morning, I suppose, and thought it was too early to knock us up.”

  “Other times he left some rabbits in the kitchen,” said Morpeth, “but he couldn’t do that this time because we lock the back door every night since we had the prowler.”

  “So this poacher saw something he thought suspicious and went to the police,” said Dame Beatrice. “If the man is a hunter of illicit fish or game, it seems a strange thing for him to have done.”

  “Oh, Adams would do anything for the sake of a ten-pence piece,” said Bryony. “Besides, although he has been up before the magistrates in Axehead a couple of times, he has never been convicted of anything.”

  “Is there any reason why he should want to make trouble?”

  “I’m sure there isn’t. His rabbits are useful because they make a change of diet for the hounds and we always pay him promptly.”

  “So you think that he really did see whatever he seems to have mentioned to the police?”

  “Well, you know, Susan was very doubtful about that inquest. She said the man would have kicked Sekhmet, not given the dog his trousers. But I do think Adams could have come and told us
that he was going to the police with information and then left us to deal with the matter. Is there anything you can do to get the police off our backs? I’m sure they suspect murder, as Susan does.”

  “Has this poacher a home?”

  “Yes. He lives in a bivouac sort of shelter on the moor about three miles from our house.”

  Between them, the sisters described the location of Adams’s shack.

  “Am I likely to find him at home at about midday tomorrow?” asked Dame Beatrice. “I should like to hear what he has to say. Of course, he may not have been the cause of the visit from the police.”

  “He will be in the Crozier Arms at midday tomorrow,” said Bryony. “He goes there most days when he has any money.”

  “Excellent. My chauffeur shall waylay him there. Meanwhile, I think I ought to talk with your kennel-maid. I heard what she had to say at the inquest, but I may gain a pointer or two in private conversation. Will she still be at Crozier Lodge if we set off immediately?”

  “I doubt it. If we are not there, she won’t stay once she has shut the hounds in the stable yard.”

  “Then we will have tea and I will visit her tomorrow after I have heard from George whether the poacher has anything to say. How is George to identify him at the Crozier Arms?”

  “He is always accompanied by a lurcher bitch when he goes to the pub. If he gets into an argument it is handy to have her with him, I suppose. She bit my father once, when father lanced a boil on Adams’s neck,” said Morpeth.

  “Will you lunch with us tomorrow?” asked Bryony, after a pause during which she had caught her sister’s eye and telegraphed a message.

  “Thank you, no. While George is talking to Adams, we shall pay a visit to the Headlands hotel and lunch there, while we make some enquiries about Mr. Goodfellow. You have heard no more of him, I suppose?”

  “Not a thing,” replied Bryony.

  “Unless he was our prowler,” said Morpeth. Her sister glanced at her. “Well, he was dotty enough to come tapping on windows when it was nearly bedtime,” Morpeth went on, looking at Dame Beatrice for support.

  “If you ask me, he wasn’t dotty at all,” said Laura. “I put him down as a right villain. All those quotations and the king of kings stuff!”

  “When he asked for a doctor and you brought him to me,” said Dame Beatrice, “did he give any indication that he was surprised at the length of the journey? I agree with Laura that he was not mentally deranged as the layman understands the term, so he must have realised that there were doctors much nearer to Abbots Crozier than the Stone House.”

  “First, I suggested Dr. Mortlake, but he said he had been treated by him some time before and did not care for it to happen again. Then, I’m afraid I lied and mentioned Lambridge.”

  “So, if he knew Dr. Mortlake, he had been in the neighbourhood before.”

  “Well, he certainly knew Dr. Mortlake’s name. After that, I just drove on, intending, as I had done from the first, to land him on to you. I think he knew what I was doing because he pointed out the road sign to Brockenhurst and asked me if that wasn’t the way.”

  “Interesting. Do go on.”

  “When I told him at Crozier Lodge that I would take him to a doctor, his behaviour became even more extravagant and extraordinary than it had been at first. Morpeth asked whether she should come with me. I told her to put one of the Nile gods in the back of the car. She knew what I meant, of course. Osiris, Anubis, Horus, and Amon are like lambs in the ordinary course of events, but I should be very sorry if anybody turned awkward towards one of us when they were about.

  “Ozymandias asked whether it was necessary to take Osiris with us. He said he was allergic to dogs. I said that they enjoyed a ride in a car, but liked people to be nice and quiet when they were about. Well, that calmed him down and, most of the journey he seemed to be asleep.”

  “But he didn’t miss the road signs to Brockenhurst,” said Laura. “Well, Wandles Parva isn’t far off from there.”

  “No. Well, he didn’t begin acting up again until we were in sight of your windows. I had to reassure Osiris and tell him it was all right.”

  “I wouldn’t touch her, mate,” said Adams to George when they had met and were fraternising in the Crozier Arms next day. George had paid for the beer and was making overtures towards the lurcher. “She’s obliged for the sausage you give her, but she’s kind of awkward in her manners with strangers.” He stirred the crossbred affectionately with his foot and applied himself to the pint for which George had paid. “Don’t do for me to keep the dog too friendly with folks, living alone as I do and every man’s hand agin me, as you might say.”

  “But not the hand of the ladies at Crozier Lodge,” said George, “or so you were telling me.”

  “Oh, them! Born innocent and never got over it.”

  “I heard the police had been there. That doesn’t sound much like innocence. What have they been up to?”

  “Well, that’s a funny kind of a tale, that is.”

  “Let’s have a snack and another drink. I’m on a newspaper, so I can do with a funny kind of tale.”

  “A noospaper? Any dough attached?”

  “Depends on the story. If the story is worth anything to me, the paper might go as far as a tenner.”

  “I thought noospapers paid thousands.”

  “Only for a real scoop, and then it’s got to be in one of the big dailies. Anyway, please yourself.” He ordered pasties and another couple of pints and led the way to a small table. Adams picked up a clean beer-mat and put it in his pocket.

  “Different to last week,” he said. “I got quite a collection. Shall flog it when I gets the right bid for it. Bound to be somebody interested, with all this holiday lot about.”

  “I used to collect paper hats when I was a kid and got invited to parties,” said George, who had been well briefed by Dame Beatrice. “Paper hats and mottoes out of Christmas crackers. I reckon I finished up with enough funny jokes to keep a low comedian going for life. As for hats—”

  “Funny you should mention hats.” Adams, between mouthfuls of pasty and great slurps of beer, told the story of his experiences in the grounds of Crozier Lodge. “So I ain’t surprised as the fuzz been nosing around there,” he concluded.

  “I thought he well deserved a reward, madam,” said George to Dame Beatrice later, “so I made it a few pounds and, of course, his refreshments. I hope that’s all right, madam.”

  “Good old George!” said Laura, when the chauffeur, in civvies for the occasion, had left them in the lounge of the Headlands hotel. “At least we know now why the police went hat-hunting at Crozier Lodge. I suppose by this time they’ve been to the kennel-maid’s cottage and had a look-round there.”

  “I imagine so. If the story this man Adams told to George is true, it seems to have been a strange time of day and, apparently, an unprecedented circumstance, for anybody to have taken Sekhmet out for exercise.”

  “Yes, it certainly wasn’t one of the Rants because it was at Watersmeet that Susan found the dog. It must have gone off with a stranger. They have always said that Sekhmet will trust anybody and is amiable to the point of idiocy.”

  “It was not one of the Rant sisters, perhaps,” said Dame Beatrice, “but what interests me is whether Susan left her cottage at the usual time that morning or much earlier.”

  “And took Sekhmet out and left her at Watersmeet with the stinking aniseed on some trousers to keep her happy, so that she knew perfectly well the dog wouldn’t be in that garden shed when she visited it later? Sounds far-fetched to me. Why should she do such a thing?”

  “Time will tell whether she did do such a thing. Let us go to Crozier Lodge and talk to Susan. They will have finished lunch by now.”

  “I thought you wanted to talk to the hotel people here at the Headlands about Mr. Ozymandias.”

  “Useless, and only an excuse to get out of having lunch with the Rant sisters. Bryony invited us, but I noted the consternation on Morpet
h’s face and then her expression of relief when the invitation was refused. Incidentally, it seemed to me that Bryony’s story yesterday confirmed my suspicion that Goodfellow knew perfectly well that she was taking him to see me and that his disorientated performance at Crozier Lodge was directed towards that end and is now explained.”

  Susan was out with two of the hounds when Laura and Dame Beatrice called at Crozier Lodge. The sisters said that she hated meeting strangers and would probably put Osiris and Horus back into the stable yard and go straight home rather than stay and talk with the visitors.

  “She even went to the length of making us promise not to tell you where she lived,” said Bryony.

  “So we promised, of course, and shall have to keep to it,” said Morpeth. “Anyway, although we know more or less where the cottage is, we have never been to it, so we couldn’t give you an address, even if we wanted to.”

  Susan returned to the house after Dame Beatrice and Laura had gone to their own home, but Dame Beatrice had left an urgent message and was not surprised when Bryony arrived at the Stone House with Susan late that same evening.

  “We didn’t want to leave our place empty,” said Bryony, “because of the hounds, so Morpeth is staying, but Susan wants to see you because of the message you left with me. I hope this won’t take too long. Morpeth is very nervous about being left alone so late in the evening.”

  “Then I suggest that you return at once and when Susan has consulted us we will give her a bed for the night. George will take Susan straight back after an early breakfast.”

  “Decent of you,” said Susan, in the gruff, unfriendly tone to which the sisters were accustomed, but which new acquaintances found singularly unattractive and boorish, although Dame Beatrice knew that it was an indication of almost unconquerable shyness and a lack of self-confidence. “In a spot of bother. Glad of some advice.”

  Laura looked at the square, strongly built figure, the athletic balance on the balls of the large feet, the weather-beaten face with its powerful jaw and the bare forearms muscled like those of a coal-heaver, and summed Susan up as not a person she would want to meet in a dark alley if Susan had any reason to dislike her.