Chapter 25
‘I don’t envy the inspector having to break the news to James and Agatha,’ Miss Mittens said to them when they walked back to the house after they had eventually, after a couple of hours, let go. Etta suspected that the inspector or Sergeant Wolf had got his revenge for their audacity in going on the search by making them wait longer than necessary.
The family, Sir James, Lady Mowbray, Dorothy, Marjorie and Miss Tyneham were all waiting outside the house.
‘Any news?’ called Sir James.
Miss Mittens shook her head. Lady Mowbray sighed, a deep mournful sigh. Etta glanced at her, shocked but Miss Mittens kept her head down and ploughed into the house, not looking back.
‘Why did you do that?’ Etta asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
’Because it’s not my place to tell them, that’s the inspector’s job.’
‘Tell them what?’ asked Miss Tyneham who had sneaked up behind them.
Miss Mittens jumped. ‘Really, Josephine, that is a most regrettable habit of yours,’ she said irritably.
Miss Tyneham ignored her. ‘You can’t fool me, Margaret. It’s bad news, isn’t it?’
‘Come and sit down in the Drawing Room,’ Miss Mittens urged her friend, putting a hand on her black sleeved arm.
Miss Tyneham shook it off. ‘Out with it, Margaret,’ she commanded. ‘The boy’s dead, isn’t he?’
Miss Mittens hesitated then nodded.’
‘It’s a shame. I can’t say I ever liked him; he was a snivelling little tell tale as a boy and a supercilious know-it-all when he grew up. None of the Mowbray men are any good. Still, Agatha will be very upset and my place is with her.’
‘Don’t tell her,’ warned Miss Mittens.
‘I won’t. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news that she’ll hate forever. Let that be the inspector. It’s what he’s here for.’ She noticed Jen for the first time. ‘What are you doing? Eavesdropping on your betters? Be off with you!’
Etta saw her mother open her mouth and then, with great self-control, shut it again and march off. But the rigid set of her shoulders and the erectness of her walk showed her displeasure.
Etta wanted to say something to Miss Tyneham but was conscious that she would break her cover if she did. So she said nothing and felt miserable about letting her mother down.
‘Lets go to the library so we can avoid any more questions from the family,’ Miss Mittens said.
‘Won’t they ask your friend why she came in?’
Miss Mittens said breezily, ‘Josephine is an excellent liar so it’s of no consequence.’
They remained in the library until the bell rang for lunch. There weren’t many for lunch, the elder Mowbrays were distinguished by their absence. Only Dorothy and Dennis were there, Marjorie was not.
‘She’s terribly upset about Cecil,’ Dennis told them solemnly.
Etta longed to ask why but bit her tongue instead.
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Dorothy brokenly. A tear slowly slid down her cheek. Algernon Wainwright sat on one side of her and Stewart Grenadier, the other. Both held one of her hands.
‘Cecil. Who would want to kill Cecil?’ Miss Mittens looked at Etta meaningfully. ‘I mean, he wasn’t the greatest brother in the world or the son. He was always scrounging off Mater and Pater and then laughing at them behind their backs but for someone to strangle him. I can’t believe it.’
‘Shush, Dotty,’ said Dennis. ‘You mustn’t speak ill of the dead.’
‘I’m not going to pretend he was a saint now he’s dead!’ she flared up and then burst into noisy sobs.
‘Perhaps you should go to your room, my dear and have a lie down,’ suggested Miss Mittens.
Dorothy stopped crying and shook her dark curls. ‘No, I can’t bear the thought of being alone. And who knows where the murderer will strike next? It could be me, it could be you.’ She flung out an arm and pointed at everyone around the table.
‘Don’t be so dramatic, Dotty,’ her brother said.
‘Me, being dramatic? Is there or is there not a killer in this house?’
‘We don’t know that. Cecil was killed outside.’
Mr. Cook and the footmen bringing in lunch stopped this conversation. It was a huge Shepherd’s Pie. Etta felt hungry until she recalled Cecil’s blood red eyes and found she had lost her appetite.
‘Cook, my father and mother, and Great Aunt Josephine will be taking lunch in their rooms today.’
‘Very good, sir. I had, in fact, anticipated this and instructed Mrs. Butler to prepare something accordingly.’
‘Thank you, Cook.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
The servants had also had Shepherd’s Pie for lunch. This time the appearance of Miss Potter did not stop the loud speculation about the disappearance of Cecil Mowbray. Neither did the efforts of Mr. Cook or Mrs. Wagstaff. Mrs. Butler was unashamedly enjoying the conversation and making no effort to stop it.
Mr. Cook who looked old and shaken, said Grace and then said, ‘I have some very sad news to tell you. Master Cecil has been found dead in Bluebell Woods. The police are treating it as a case of murder.’ Because it is, Jen thought. There were gasps and exclamations around the room. Jen looked round at the faces but all she saw was curiousity and excitement with Mr. Cook, Mrs. Wagstaff, Mr. Taylor, Miss Potter and Kate looking suitably solemn.
‘Once again, I must remind you all to co-operate with the police’s enquiries. Our primary duty now is to help Sir James and Lady Mowbray through this most difficult time. We can do that by being as efficient as possible and performing our duties with the utmost tact and discretion. I’m sure that our thoughts and prayers will be with Sir James and Lady Mowbray.
Jen tucked in hungrily. The walk through the woods and the long wait had sharpened her appetite. Callum had been the first of the menservants to arrive. Jen sat next to him, drawing a disapproving look from Mr. Cook but she ignored him.
‘I didn’t see you out with the search party.’
‘And you won’t either. Why should I waste my time looking for a parasite like Master Cecil Mowbray? If he’s dead, then that’s one less capitalist oppressor of the working classes.’
Jen wanted to laugh at the idea of Cecil Mowbray being a capitalist oppressor. She reckoned that even Lily or Elsie would have been able to deal with a runt like him. Then she told herself he was dead and it was no laughing matter.
‘So you haven’t heard the news?’
‘What news?’
‘Cecil Mowbray’s dead.’
Callum digested the news without showing any emotion then he said, ‘like I said, one less parasite to suck the blood of the workers.’
‘God, you’re hard,’ said Jen with feeling. ‘What about his poor parents?’
‘What about them? I’m sure their money will help them to recover. His father can take a month to grieve for him without worrying where the money’s coming to keep a roof over his head or how he is going to feed and clothe his children if he doesn’t work. His mother can retire to her bed without worrying who is going to do the housework or the cooking or the shopping.’
‘Tragedy strikes everyone rich or poor,’ Jen argued.
‘But the rich can cope a lot better.’
‘Even so, to know that you will know you saw your son for the last time at dinner before he was killed that night,’ Jen’s voice faltered, she was thinking of Etta and what she would do if anything bad happened to her.
‘What makes you think he was killed the night before yesterday?’ Callum asked.
‘I just assumed,’ Jen said.
‘He wasn’t killed that night,’ Callum said with great conviction.
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I saw him the next morning, sneaking the back way out of the grounds into the woods,’ was his reply.
‘Where were you, then?’
‘I was standing at the window of my luxurious accommodation over the garages, having an early m
orning smoke.’
Jen stared at him. ‘Have you told the police?’ she demanded.
‘No.’
‘Why ever not?’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t see it would make any difference. What does it matter when he was killed? The police have never helped me and I certainly don’t intend to start helping them.’
‘But this could be important?’
‘I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, whoever killed our “master Cecil”’, he imitated the voice of Mr. Cook quite accurately, ‘did the world a favour.’
‘You are unbelievable,’ Jen said.
‘It’s a tough world, Jane and it’s the moneyed class who make it tough for workers. Just remember, if you tell the police what I told you, I’ll deny it or say I was leading you on so keep your mouth shut.’
Murder and Mittens Page 25
