by Emily Organ
Chapter 25
“My nerves are completely shot to pieces, Pembers,” said Churchill as they staggered back to the office. “First a terrible fright in the churchyard and then Mrs Roseball almost finishing us off with her revolver.”
“That was very dangerous indeed,” agreed Pemberley. “We could have been killed. Poor Oswald could have been killed!”
“Oh, what a dreadful thought! We mustn’t take him on our travels any more, Pembers. We can’t afford to go putting him in harm’s way.”
“But he has to come with us. He’s our detective dog!”
“And what would you do if he came to any harm?”
“The incident with Mrs Roseball was very rare. Our work is quite safe most of the time.”
“I suppose it is. I’ll tell you what, though, I’m going to struggle to finish off that jar of damson jam I have in my pantry.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I take a mouthful, I’ll be reminded just how close we came to death today! Damson jam will never taste the same for me again. What a terrible shame.”
“It is rather annoying that Mrs Roseball has ruined jam for us.”
“Well, only damson jam. I think I’ll be all right with other flavours.”
“She’s ruined all jam for me. I never want to see a jar of the stuff again.”
Churchill paused as they reached the door of the office. “Do you know what I think, Pembers? I think we should take the rest of the day off. It’s been an exhausting twenty-four hours and we need to prepare ourselves for a little piece of reconnaissance in Cowslip Park this evening.”
“Must we? I feel as though I want to retire.”
“What, now?”
“It would be rather nice, wouldn’t it?”
“But what would you do with your time?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Well, in the meantime, let’s meet in the park at a quarter to six.”
A tall, bespectacled nanny strolled through Cowslip Park that evening pushing her charge in a perambulator with a large hood to protect him from the sun’s dipping rays. She wore a smart apron over her long, pale blue dress, which was tied at the waist with a dark blue belt. Her hat and gloves were also dark blue. A similarly attired nanny, whose dress was of a shorter, wider fit, passed her bespectacled counterpart on the path, and the two acknowledged each other with a polite nod. Then the shorter nanny pushed her perambulator in the direction of the Masonic lodge, adopting a subtle sidelong glance as she surveyed the men arriving for their evening meeting.
The two nannies met again on the other side of Cowslip Park.
“Seen anyone you recognise yet, Pembers?” whispered the shorter nanny as she paused to peek at the bundle of blankets in her pram.
“Quite a few of them, yes. I’ve seen most of the men in the village, actually.”
“Goodness! Are they all Freemasons?”
“So far I’ve seen Mr Hurricks, Mr Manners, Dr Bratchett, Farmer Drumhead, Mr Grieves, Mr Fordbridge, Mr Crumble, Mr Verney, Farmer Jagford, Mr Downs, Mr Jones Sloanes and the mayor.”
“The mayor?”
“And Mr Pickwick.”
Churchill felt her heart skip excitedly. “Oh, him,” she added as nonchalantly as possible.
“Your gentleman friend.”
“Gentleman friend? What on earth does that mean? He’s merely an acquaintance.”
“He’s painting you.”
“That’s because he’s a painter. Actually, I don’t mean a painter, because that suggests he paints walls and fences. He’s an artist.”
“Who have you seen go in?” asked Pemberley.
“A boss-eyed chap with red hair and a stooped gentleman with exceptionally large ears.”
“Mr Brunt and Mr Sergecan.”
“Never heard of them.” Churchill reached into her pram, unwrapped the bundle of blankets and pulled out a paper bag. “Fruit scone, Pembers?”
“No, thank you; not without jam and cream. Actually, just cream. I’ll never be able to eat jam again.”
“I’ve got some cream in here and all the relevant accoutrements, but I left the jam at home. In fact, I might take to pushing a perambulator about all the time. It’s an excellent method of transporting one’s eatables. I can fit so much more in here than in my handbag.” She glanced over at the Masonic lodge. “A few more are making their way along the path now. Let’s do another circuit and see who we can spy.”
“Aren’t you worried someone might recognise us?”
“I haven’t seen anyone so much as glance in our direction yet, Pembers. Two mature nannies pushing prams are hardly likely to attract the attention of a bunch of gentlemen gathering to discuss their Freemason business. We’re practically invisible to them!”
“But these costumes aren’t a complete disguise, are they?”
“But they are, Pembers, because we’re out of context. No one would expect Mrs Churchill and Miss Pemberley to be spending a summer’s evening walking around the park with perambulators. Even if the brief thought occurred to someone that we seemed familiar he would immediately consider himself mistaken and dismiss the idea from his mind.”
“I do hope you’re right.”
“Consider how many Freemasons you’ve spotted already. Did any of them recognise you?”
“No.”
“Good.” Churchill leaned into her perambulator and cut open a scone. “A nice bit of cream will be delicious on this… shame about the jam. That reminds me, Pembers. How do you know so much about revolvers and their cylinders with all that hinged-top-break-swing-gate business? You appeared to be quite the expert.”
“Little good that did us!”
“How did Mrs Roseball even manage to fire it accidentally?”
“I didn’t see her finger touch the trigger, so I can only guess she knocked the hammer, which hit the bullet in the chamber. It sometimes happens with those old revolvers.”
“How do you know all this?” Churchill bit into her scone.
“A cowboy taught me.”
“A cowboy?” Churchill could barely form the word around her large mouthful of scone. She hoped the keen, quizzical look on her face would encourage Pemberley to keep talking.
“Once when I was a companion to the lady of international travel, we found ourselves on the same transatlantic steam ship as Buffalo Bill’s Wild West tour and a very nice cowboy showed me how to use his revolver.”
“Did he indeed?”
“I learned everything I know from him.”
“Golly, well perhaps you can teach me one day. I feel my gun knowledge is sadly lacking.”
“Shouldn’t we be keeping an eye on the time, Mrs Churchill?”
“Oh yes, we should.” She checked her watch, then gulped down the remainder of her scone. “Right, let’s get on with our reconnaissance. We’ll have to hoof it across the park now if we’re to get to those stragglers on time.”
Churchill went one way and Pemberley went the other. A few minutes later they met again on the path close to the lodge. Churchill stopped.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to stop here,” whispered Pemberley. “It’ll arouse their suspicions.”
“Don’t worry, Pembers, it would be quite normal for two nannies to stop and discuss their charges during an evening stroll in the park. Now, your spectacles afford you better eyesight than me. Who do you see over there?”
“Mr Toolberry.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Mr Bowloak.”
“I’ve no idea about him, either. If only I had my field glasses and could get a better look at them.”
“That would give you away completely. Nannies never have field glasses with them.”
“Good point well made. Keep an eye on your charge, Pembers, he’s growing a little restless.”
Pemberley peered into the pram. “Oh that’s a shame, he’s woken up. He was having a lovely nap in there.”
Churchill watched nervously as Oswald pe
ered out from beneath the pram hood. “Walk him on a bit and see if you can lull him back to sleep.”
“I don’t think it’ll work. The baby’s awake now and I expect he’s hungry.”
“Let’s give him a scone.”
“Dogs shouldn’t eat scones, Mrs Churchill. You know that.”
“But we need to keep him quiet!”
“He will be quiet. I’ve trained him not to bark.”
“Since when?”
“Ever since I got him.”
Churchill shook her head incredulously and glanced over at the two men, who had almost reached the steps of the Masonic lodge. She checked her watch and saw that it was a minute to six o’clock.
“Surely that’s the last of them gone in now. What do you think, Pembers?”
“I can see one more making his way over.”
“There’s always one, isn’t there?”
“It’s Inspector Mappin.”
“Right. Out of all the gentlemen who have turned up this evening, he’s probably the most likely to recognise us.”
“I thought you said we were unrecognisable out of context?”
“I did, but the inspector has a keen policeman’s eye.”
“Really?”
“Actually, he has nothing of the kind, but let’s not risk it. I think we should make a swift departure all the same. Our job here is done!”
The two ladies quickly moved on, but Churchill had only taken a couple of steps when she heard Pemberley gasp behind her. She spun around to see Oswald out of the pram and cantering at great speed toward Inspector Mappin. The little dog had no doubt remembered the juicy bone the inspector had given him and was eagerly anticipating another.
Churchill was about to call out when she realised doing so would give them away. She reasoned it would be better to march on and pretend Oswald was nothing to do with them.
Pemberley’s mind hadn’t followed the same thought process, however, and she gave a loud whistle in an attempt to call the dog back.
“Ssh!” hissed Churchill. “We have to pretend he’s not with us.”
“I can’t just leave him!”
“He won’t go far. He’ll jump all over Inspector Mappin and then come back to find us.”
Churchill turned and pushed off with her pram as fast as she could go. She would leave her secretary to face Inspector Mappin if it came to that. After all, it was Pemberley’s fault for letting Oswald escape.
Only it wasn’t Pemberley’s name that carried on the evening breeze.
“Mrs Churchill!”
Chapter 26
Inspector Mappin scribbled something down in his notebook. “It’s just as well that I carry this with me even when I’m off duty,” he commented, checking his watch. “You ladies have made me five minutes late for my meeting.”
“You’ve made yourself late for your meeting, Inspector,” retorted Churchill. “There was no need for you to take down our particulars. We weren’t even committing a crime.”
The inspector sighed. “We’ve already discussed this, Mrs Churchill. You were both acting suspiciously.”
“And we’ve already told you we were carrying out surveillance.”
“Compton Poppleford Masonic Lodge will take a dim view of being spied on. That said, spying involves a certain level of sophistication, and I see no sophistication in dressing up as nannies and pushing empty perambulators about the place.”
“Oh, but they’re not empty, Inspector. Mine happens to contain a number of useful provisions and Pemberley’s contains a dog. In fact, I’m quite impressed by the way he managed to jump back in again all by himself. I think he likes his pram. We were carrying out careful surveillance of one or more persons, and our operation has been quite ruined by you apprehending us for no reason whatsoever.”
Inspector Mappin gave a despairing shake of his head. “Does this have anything to do with the ring you found in Crunkle Lane? Have you dressed up in ridiculous nanny costumes in a bid to identify the ring’s owner?”
“These are bona fide uniforms, Inspector, not costumes. And we’re merely here to ascertain who in the village happens to be a Freemason. We weren’t expecting to discover that most of the men in the village belong to the organisation.”
“I could have told you who our members were, Mrs Churchill. You didn’t have to go to such elaborate lengths.”
“Ah, but would you have told us?”
“No, I don’t suppose I would.”
“Exactly. Now, have any of your Freemason friends—”
“Masonic brothers.”
“Have any of your Masonic brothers mentioned that they might have lost a ring?”
“No.”
“Have any of them come down to the station to ask whether a lost ring has been handed in?”
“No.”
“That is very interesting indeed. One has to wonder whether the gentleman in question is worried about implicating himself.”
“Somewhere in the village there’s a man who has lost his ring but doesn’t want to admit to it because he lost it while committing a dreadful murder,” added Pemberley.
“Exactly!”
“That’s enough,” said Inspector Mappin. “It’s quite out of the question that a Freemason could have murdered Mr Butterfork. Every brother I’ve ever known has been an honest, law-abiding individual. Any man who was otherwise simply wouldn’t be permitted to join in the first place.”
“You’ve never arrested a Freemason before, Inspector?”
“No, and nor will I ever have to. Now, you have remembered that you’re due to hand the ring over to me shortly, haven’t you?”
“Yes, we haven’t forgotten.” Churchill said, giving Pemberley an uncomfortable sidelong glance. “I wonder if you could tell us which of your mason friends wears a dark grey overcoat, Inspector?”
“I should think a good number of them do.”
“You’ve heard about the expert analysis Mrs Thonnings conducted on the piece of snagged fabric found in the churchyard, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“It came from the dark grey overcoat the murderer was wearing as he fled through the churchyard. The murder weapon was also found close by.”
“Yes, I recall all that.”
“Don’t you think you should be rounding up all the men around here who own dark grey overcoats, in that case?”
“You make it sound as though I’m some sort of sheepdog, Mrs Churchill.”
“One of your Mason friends owns such a coat. Pemberley and I saw him the other afternoon.”
“Which one?”
“We don’t know, because we only saw the back of him. But if you were to check everyone’s coats at the meeting this evening you could easily find out.”
Inspector Mappin shook his head. “I’m off duty, Mrs Churchill, and there’s no need for you to tell me how to go about my job.”
“But the coat has to be an excellent lead, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“And if the chap with the dark grey overcoat also happened to have lost his ring, we’d have ourselves a rather firm suspect.”
“But he’s a Freemason, Mrs Churchill. He couldn’t possibly be a murderer.”
“I shall happily agree with you for the time being, Inspector, just to make our conversation run a little more smoothly. I’m sure you have no wish to detain us any further.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But this can’t go on, you know.” He wagged a finger at them. “It’s disruptive.”
“Disruptive to what?”
“To my evening.”
“You could have simply ignored us.”
“My job is to keep the peace, Mrs Churchill.”
“Miss Pemberley and I weren’t making any noise.”
“You were unnerving people.”
“Such as?”
“Me, for one.”
“Please do accept our apologies for unnerving you; that certainly wasn’t our intentio
n. Now you’ve wasted another few minutes of your time, and you could be missing out on something dreadfully important in there. What are they likely to be talking about, anyway?”
“That’s the lodge’s business, Mrs Churchill, not yours.”
“Or yours at the moment, Inspector, given that you’re still out here.”
“Any more of this nonsense, Mrs Churchill, and I shall be referring this case to my superiors.” He wagged his finger again. “Now, please go home and leave all this well alone.”
Chapter 27
“I thought you told Grieves you would never set foot in the churchyard again, Mrs Churchill,” said Pemberley as the two ladies and Oswald walked toward St Swithun’s the following morning.
“I did, but that’s because it was dark and I was frightened. After giving it some careful thought, I decided I just wanted to get the case cleared up. It can’t be too difficult, can it?”
“I’d say that it would be extremely difficult.”
“Someone must be behind it all, and whether it’s Grieves himself or someone else we just need to catch them in the act.”
“Why would Grieves be behind it?”
“I don’t know. Why would anyone be behind it? It’s certainly one of the strangest cases I’ve ever come across. Anyway, our visit to Cowslip Park yesterday evening went well, don’t you think?”
“I’d say it went terribly. Inspector Mappin found us out!”
“Let’s forget about that part. The bit that went well relates to the fact that we now have a nice long list of all the local Freemasons.”
“It’s not a written-down list,” replied Pemberley. “It’s still in my head.”
“Get writing it down then, Pembers. We don’t want to forget anybody. If we can find one with a dark grey coat and a missing ring, he’d have to be our chief suspect.”
“Why hasn’t the ring’s owner arrived to claim it yet?” asked Pemberley.
“Because whoever it is must be the murderer! The longer he leaves it the guiltier he looks. And besides, we don’t really want him to collect it now it’s been stolen, do we? I really don’t know what we’re going to do when the time comes to hand it over to Mappin.”
