A discussion of the tent-peg had to wait. The door opened again and Lady Cheringham came in, bearing a vase of pink and white phlox and followed by Gladstone with a tray.
“Gladstone told me you are interviewing in here, Mr. Fletcher. I thought a few flowers would brighten the place up for you.” She set the vase on the desk, while Gladstone silently deposited the tray on the long table and withdrew. “Rupert never lets me put any in the library,” she continued. “They make him sneeze, poor dear.”
“Lovely, Lady Cheringham. This is Detective Constable Piper, one of my assistants.”
“How do you do, Mr. Piper. I’ve met Mr. Tring, a charming man. My dear Mr. Fletcher, do you want to ask me any questions? You mustn’t be shy, you know. After all, you’ll soon be my nephew-in-law.”
“That’s hardly a qualification for interrogating you,” Alec said with a smile. In fact, while shy was not the word, the relationship definitely made things more difficult. “There is one question only you can answer: Do you know of anyone leaving the house last night after you went to bed?”
Lady Cheringham shook her head. “I sleep very well after pottering in the garden all day. I wouldn’t hear unless someone made enough noise to wake me, say by starting a car under my window. Is that all?” she asked, slightly disappointed.
“For now. How is Patricia?”
“She insists on coming down for tea,” said her ladyship, frowning, “but she’s still in a state of shock, if you ask me. I’d never have guessed she was so oversensitive.”
“Witnessing sudden death, even of a stranger and without the shadow of violence, is a severe shock to many people,” Alec said. “When it’s an acquaintance, and there’s a suspicion of murder, it’s naturally much worse.” He gathered neither Tish nor Daisy had informed Lady Cheringham of DeLancey’s incursion and their consequent feelings of guilt.
“I suppose so. I can’t decide whether it’s just as well we didn’t take her to Africa, considering the delicacy of her nerves, or whether it would have done her good, braced her backbone, so to speak. Still, it’s too late now. Are you going to have to interview her?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“I’m sure I don’t need to ask you to be gentle with her.”
“Great Scott, no! After all, she will soon be my cousin-in-law.” Which would make him nearly Cheringham’s cousin, Alec realised, dismayed. Should he ask to be taken off the case?
“You are so nearly a relative,” Lady Cheringham reflected, “it doesn’t seem right that you are staying in town. The house is practically bursting at the seams, so I can’t offer you a proper bedroom of your own. There’s Mr. DeLancey’s bed, sharing a room with Mr. Fosdyke, but I wonder if you would prefer to sleep on the sofa in Rupert’s dressing-room? Would the convenience outweigh the discomfort?”
“As a matter of fact, it most definitely would,” said Alec, whose bed at the Old White Hart had felt almost as ancient as the fifteenth-century inn. Without a qualm he consigned Tom Tring’s well-padded bones to its torturous embrace. “I’ve been wondering what to do with Tring and Piper tonight. They can have my room at the White Hart, if you’re sure I shan’t be in the way?”
“Not at all.”
“Sir Rupert isn’t coming back?”
“I haven’t tried to get in touch. He was an excellent administrator, but since retiring, he has been obsessed with that blessed book of his. He wouldn’t be the least help to you, to me, or to poor Patricia. I’ll have the bed made up in the dressing-room, and you must come and stay again, some time when we don’t have a murder in the house. Such a disconcerting business!”
“I’m afraid it tends to be,” Alec apologised, thinking he’d seldom seen anyone less disconcerted. Life in Africa must have inured her to shock.
She patted his arm. “I’m so glad it’s dear Daisy’s young man who’s in charge, not a stranger. Well, I’ll leave you to your tea and your business.” With a smiling nod to Piper, who had tactfully withdrawn to the far end of the room, she departed.
“Nice lady,” said Piper, with a depth of admiration he usually reserved for Daisy.
Alec agreed, especially when he recalled the daunting disapproval of her sister, the Dowager Lady Dalrymple, Daisy’s mother.
Used to hurried meals, Piper managed to devour two Gentleman’s Relish sandwiches, three biscuits, a slice of
Dundee cake, and half a cup of tea before Alec sent him running again.
“I’ll see Poindexter next,” he said, pouring himself a second cup. Daisy was having tea—or perhaps champagne and strawberries—in the Stewards’ Enclosure with her friends, Lord and Lady Fitzsimmons, and His Royal Highness Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester. How old was the Prince? Twenty-two or three, Alec thought, not so much younger than Daisy.
Of course, she actually expected just to be presented to him, not to take tea with him. And it was all in the way of business, Alec consoled himself.
He’d better return to his own business. Glancing at his brief notes of the interview with Leigh, he pondered the significance of what DeLancey had been wearing when he fell. His jacket at least, and probably his trousers, should show some signs of the fall. A dinner-jacket smirched or damaged would not indicate where he fell. But if he had worn some other article of clothing, then he had changed after dinner, and why should he do so if not for a vigil? It would be another piece of evidence pointing to the boat-house as the scene of the crime.
Bott hadn’t come in for dinner. Even if he came back earlier in the day to change out of his rowing shorts, no one would tell him of DeLancey’s intention to guard the boat, would they? He had no reason to suppose the coast would not be clear when he crept down to the boat-house in the middle of the night.
Tent-peg in hand? How much damage could he do to a racing boat with a tent-peg? Why toss it aside, outside the boat-house? Why not plan to use a boat-hook in the first place?
“Ah, Mr. Poindexter. Take a seat.”
Poindexter confirmed much of Leigh’s report, but added little. The same was true of Wells and Meredith. Each claimed to have slept soundly, not leaving his room after going to bed, and not hearing his room-mate stir until morning. They all agreed that no rowing man worth his salt would leave an oar lying about on the ground.
They also agreed that the annual “bumping” races at Oxford proved the boats were pretty sturdy. Holing one with a tent-peg would not be easy, at least not without a mallet.
Tom could hardly have missed a mallet lying in the bushes. Why not hit out with a mallet one was carrying instead of putting it down to pick up an oar? Perhaps the tent-peg was nothing to do with Bott. It matched his, but tent-pegs were much of a muchness, after all. Analysis of the wood might prove something. No good counting to see if one of Bott’s was missing—anyone in his right mind would take extras in case some split.
Where was Bott?
Alec dismissed Meredith and sent for Fosdyke.
The surgeon’s son was higher on the list of suspects than the four already interviewed, but not by much. As a member of the fours crew, he had a reason to check the boat in the night, but no one had suggested he had any particular reason to quarrel with DeLancey. The possibility remained of DeLancey having become obstreperous when Fosdyke was putting him to bed, but the evidence all pointed to the boat-house, not a bedroom.
“What was DeLancey wearing when you went to his assistance last night?” Alec rapped out as Fosdyke entered the library.
“His sweater, and flannels. I was glad, because I’d have had a job getting him out of a dinner-jacket.”
“He was being difficult?”
“Just limp.” The eyes that met Alec’s were as guileless as Daisy’s. He reminded himself that he would never describe Daisy as guileless. “As it was, I didn’t even bother to undress him,” Fosdyke continued, sitting down as Alec waved him to the chair. “But it wasn’t him, it was Miss Cheringham whose assistance I went to, and Miss Dalrymple. She’s a brick, isn’t she? I thought DeLancey was drunk. The pater says it was a natural mistake, but I still feel bad about it.”
“DeLancey was a friend? You chose to share a room with him?”
“Crikey, no! I don’t think he had any real friends, just a few toadies. The others all teamed up, and I got stuck with him. I kept pretty much out of his way, getting up early and going to bed early. He didn’t pick on me much, anyway, because I took no notice. People like that soon quit if you ignore them.”
“Very true.”
“The pater taught me that before I went away to prep school. The pater’s a good egg,” Fosdyke said defensively, with an air of embarrassment. Perhaps in his circles fathers were generally regarded as antediluvian antiques.
Alec decided the young man was probably just as ingenuous as he seemed. What had Daisy said about him? A nice, obliging boy who lived to run, row, eat, and sleep.
“Were you awake, or did you wake up, when DeLancey came up to change his clothes?”
“He woke me. That was typical—he turned on the overhead light and didn’t attempt to be quiet. Though I think he really was a bit tipsy then.”
“What time was that?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want him to know he’d woken me. When he went off again, I had to get up to turn off the light, but I didn’t look at the time.”
“Where did you suppose he was going?”
“To the boat-house, I assumed. He’d been talking about it earlier, though I didn’t believe he’d do it.”
“Were you concerned about Mr. Bott’s threats against the boat?” Alec asked.
“He didn’t threaten the boat, he threatened DeLancey. The boat business was all DeLancey’s imagination.” Fosdyke paused, forehead wrinkling. “At least, I suppose he was right, wasn’t he? I mean, Bott hit him down there, and why was Bott there if not to bash in the boat?”
“We have absolutely no evidence of Bott’s presence in the boat-house last night,” Alec said repressively, as he had already stated four times in various ways. He asked a few more questions, but he was inclined to give young Fosdyke the benefit of the doubt.
“I told Father I’d go and find him when you had finished with me.”
“You’re free to go, but please telephone if for any reason you don’t come back here for the night. Piper, I’ll see Miss Cheringham next, in case she wants to retire to bed again.”
As Fosdyke and Piper left, Tom came in. “Didn’t want to interrupt, Chief, case you was getting a confession.”
“No such luck. What about you?”
“I been talking to Mr. Gladstone. DeLancey barely noticed the servants existed, so there’s no motive there. He had a telephone call from his brother about quarter to eleven.”
“Yes, Lord DeLancey told us. What did Gladstone have to say about it?”
“All the rest went upstairs while Basil DeLancey was talking on the telephone. Gladstone went into the drawing-room to tidy and lock up. DeLancey was angry when he came in, ‘cause he’d been deserted, I s’pose. He told Gladstone not to lock the French doors as he was going to step out for a cigar. Said he lock’em himself, then rushed off upstairs. Gladstone finished tidying and was just leaving when DeLancey came back dressed in a jersey. Looks like the boat-house is it, don’t it, Chief?”
“Oh yes, we can be pretty certain of that. Have you checked the dabs on that oar?”
Tom’s reply was forestalled by the sound of an argument just outside in the hall. Piper came in.
“Mr. Frieth and Mr. Cheringham want to come in with Miss Cheringham, Chief, but she …”
Tish burst in, turning on the threshold to say vehemently, “Do go away, the two of you. I don’t need you to hold my hands. I don’t want you to hold my hands.”
From the hall came Miss Carrick’s musical tones, unruffled. “Cherry, come along, do. Mr. Fletcher doesn’t bite, you chump.”
“Little does she know,” came sotto voce from Piper as Alec strode towards the door.
Turning as he approached, Tish shut the door firmly behind her. Pale and wan, she looked up at him apprehensively, as if Piper’s words were closer to her expectations than Miss Carrick’s.
“I don’t bite,” Alec reassured her. “Come and sit down. I
imagine you don’t want them here when we talk about DeLancey being in your bedroom last night.”
“No,” she said with a little gasp. “They know now, but talking about it … . It was too awful … .” And she started to cry.
Dearly wishing Daisy was there, Alec took her hand and led her to the chair. He had coped with many a weeping woman in his time, and more than a few weeping men, but never one who was shortly to become a close relative.
At that inopportune moment, the telephone bell rang. Of course, it might be for anyone in the house, but it was about time Bott turned up. Alec glanced at Tom, who nodded and trod silently from the room.
Sitting on the arm of Tish’s chair, Alec handed her his handkerchief. “Have a good blow,” he said. “At least, that’s what I say to my daughter. Perhaps it’s not quite proper to a young lady.”
“It’s what Cherry used to say when I was little.” A tentative smile hovering on her lips, she looked up at him with tear-drenched eyes. “I didn’t know you had a daughter. Daisy did mention that you had been married before.”
“Yes.” He moved to the desk. Not sure whether he was putting a prospective witness at ease or improving his acquaintance with his fiancée’s cousin, he went on, “Joan died in the influenza epidemic in ’nineteen, like Daisy’s father. Belinda’s nine. She adores Daisy.”
“Daisy’s wonderful, isn’t she?” Behind her, Ernie Piper nodded vigorously—Alec was relieved to see he hadn’t started taking notes yet. “One feels one can tell her anything. I wish I’d known her better growing up. I don’t know what I’d have done last night if she hadn’t been there.”
“Do you feel able to talk about it now? I haven’t had much chance to get the details from Daisy. In any case, it helps to have two witnesses. One often notices what the other misses.”
“Wh-when do you want me to start?” Tish asked tremulously.
“Let’s go back to the river-bank yesterday. I’ve plenty of witnesses to DeLancey’s ducking Bott, but none of them was there when he first took it into his head that Bott might damage the fours boat. Daisy just mentioned it in passing. Were you there?”
“Oh yes. It was later, in the General Enclosure. Dottie and Cherry and Rollo and I were having something to drink—it was beastly hot. Daisy was with us. She had gone off with Bott and his girl, and we’d been a bit worried about where she’d got to. I remember … Oh!”
“What?”
Tish blushed. “Oh, just that Dottie told her we nearly called in the police but weren’t sure whether to get the local chaps or Scotland Yard. Just joking, you know. Daisy said you’d have wrung her neck.”
“I might have,” Alec agreed, laughing. “Did Bott and his girl turn up with her?”
“No, thank heaven. Because just then the DeLanceys came up, looking as if they’d been squabbling ever since we last saw them. Mr. DeLancey apologised for the scene with Bott, but not as if he meant it. It was obvious Lord DeLancey made him say it. That was when Basil DeLancey started to worry about the boat.”
“Were Frieth and Cheringham worried?”
“Not a bit,” Tish said quickly. Too quickly? “Cherry said, ‘Bosh’—no, ‘What rot!’ and Rollo said they wouldn’t share
guard-duty with him. Then Lord DeLancey told Basil not to be an ass, he’d make himself a laughing-stock sitting in the boat-house all night. So that was the end of that.”
“You didn’t hear any more about it? Your cousin and Frieth didn’t discuss it?”
“After the DeLanceys had gone, Rollo said something like that was the last we’d hear of that. Cherry said if Lord DeLancey was capable of making Basil apologise, it was a pity he didn’t exercise his authority more often. Then we went to watch a race.”
“What about in the evening? At dinner and after?”
“At dinner no one talked about any of the business with Bott. Even Basil DeLancey behaved himself pretty well when my mother was there.” Again the quick colour flooded Tish’s cheeks. “After dinner, we were out on the terrace, and the rest were inside. Did DeLancey say he was going to the boat-house after all?”
“Not in so many words, I gather.”
It sounded as if Cheringham and Frieth expected Basil DeLancey to be ruled by his brother. Tish did not seem to grasp that they therefore had a motive for checking on the boat themselves—though a quick check would hardly do much good unless Bott happened to be caught sneaking down there, Alec realised.
He blamed the heat for his slowness to reach that conclusion. Frieth and Cheringham were intelligent men who would surely have worked it out for themselves. On the other hand, DeLancey and Bott were supposedly highly intelligent, and look at their idiotic behaviour. Intelligence was no guarantee of common sense.
Or common sense could be overborne by emotion, Alec
thought, regarding Tish’s tear-stained face. However, that would be more to the point if Frieth or Cheringham had known DeLancey was in the boat-house and had deliberately gone to confront him.
Which seemed unlikely, since they had no lack of opportunity for a confrontation. Only intentional murder would require the cloak of night, and Basil DeLancey had not been intentionally murdered.
Alec saw that his long pause was making Tish apprehensive. “All right,” he said, “tell me about DeLancey coming to your room.”
She looked relieved. “Daisy heard him and turned on the bedside light. I was scared to death. Someone must have told you how he kept … badgering me, and wouldn’t take no for an answer?”
“Yes.”
“I thought he’d come to … to …”
“To seduce—or perhaps assault—you?” Alec said gently.
Tish nodded. “He was … he seemed to be drunk. He could have forgotten Daisy was sharing my room. Did she tell you I was sleeping on a camp-bed? He staggered in and fell over it, and it collapsed.” A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her. “I’m sure it was funny, if I hadn’t been terrified. He just lay there, though. Daisy thought he was probably just drunk enough to have turned the wrong way at the top of the stairs. She sent me to wake Nick Fosdyke. She said she didn’t mind being alone with DeLancey. She’s so brave!”
“Foolhardy,” Alec muttered, then said aloud, “Fosdyke was asleep?”
“Fast asleep. I didn’t dare knock very hard on the door, in case I woke the whole house, so I went in and called to him.
He didn’t stir. I had to shake him awake, and then he was still half-asleep until he actually saw DeLancey in our room. He was an absolute angel.”
“Yes, I don’t believe I’ve properly expressed my appreciation.”
“He thought DeLancey was drunk, too.”
“Mr. Fosdyke Senior and Dr. Dewhurst, the police surgeon, both assure me you couldn’t possibly have guessed he was injured. You really must stop blaming yourself, Tish.”
The only result of his reassurance was that she started crying again. Alec began to feel a bit impatient. Why couldn’t she pull herself together, like Daisy? Admittedly, she had known DeLancey better, and many people felt guilty when someone died whom they had detested, as if ancient superstitions about ill-wishing lingered in the modern unconscious.
He didn’t think Tish bore the additional burden of fear that Cherry or Rollo was responsible for DeLancey’s death. Those two young men looked less and less likely as suspects. Alec could only hope something decisive would come out in his interviews with them.
If they didn’t decide to sock him in the jaw first for making Tish cry.
“Shall I send Piper for your mother?” he asked.
Mopping her eyes with his handkerchief, she shook her head. “No, I’ll be all right, honestly. I’m just rather tired. I think I’ll go back to bed. It’s awful of me after inviting everyone, but I just don’t feel up to … .”
“Don’t cry! I’m sure no one expects you to be the perfect hostess after such a shock. Off you go, now. Nothing will seem quite so bad in the morning, I promise you.”
As Tish left, Tom returned. “That was Henley Police rang
up, Chief,” he reported. “Bott’s back at Miss Hopgood’s lodgings. They’ve got a man watching, but they can’t spare him for long. Things are starting to get lively in town.”
“You’d better take the Austin and bring Bott along.”
“Right, Chief. D’you want Miss Hopgood too?”
“I’d forgotten her. No, I’ll see her tomorrow if I need to. Oh, you’d better stop at the White Hart on the way and pick up my things, would you? But first tell me about the dabs on the oar.”
“All accounted for, Chief. Mr. Cheringham’s freshest, like he said; Miss Cheringham‘s—he told me the young ladies often help put ’em away, remember; the deceased; Mr. Meredith; Mr. Wells; and a whole lot of old ’uns underneath. Then there’s Mr. Frieth’s on the blade, where you’d expect him to touch when he looked at the damage.”
“None of Bott’s?”
“None as match what I got off his hairbrush, Chief.”
“And he’d hardly wear gloves for a bit of mischief-making on a warm summer night.”
“No gloves among his things, Chief.”
“Damn!” said Alec.