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It was almost sunset when they left the police station. Colonel Hammond’s house turned out to be a large bungalow perched at the very edge of one of Mussoorie’s myriad peaks, just a few minutes ride from the police station. As they drove in through the main gate, Priestly marvelled at the house’s design. Built on a sharp promontory, almost every room and open balcony in the bungalow offered a stunning view of the sloping Himalayan valley below. The main balcony which seemed to hang precariously over the edge of the cliff, also offered an unobstructed view of the distant snow clad mountain peaks. The architect had clearly positioned it so that the mansion would be lit in the evenings by the golden rays of the setting sun.
A truly heavenly abode, thought Malcolm Priestly as he exited the car. Pity Colonel Hammond is no longer around to enjoy its delights anymore. For a brief moment, he wondered whether Harrison had really committed the murder to get hold of Hammond’s fortune. He quickly pushed away such menacing thoughts. At least till his investigation was complete, he had to believe John Harrison was innocent.
Atkins excused himself from entering the house by claiming a dinner appointment at home. He promised that the driver will return within the hour and offered to meet both of them next morning for breakfast at the Savoy.
As he climbed up the stairs of the bungalow, Priestly noticed a wicker table on the veranda surrounded by three chairs. There was a stack of newspapers atop the table. It did not surprise Priestly that they were all copies of the Financial Times. Clearly, the deceased colonel had been an astute observer of the financial markets.
Priestly was the first to reach the front door. But before he could knock using the attached brass bell, he heard the moving sound of the internal latch. Priestly was even more surprised when he saw a young European woman in a brilliant red dress smiling at him. He immediately guessed she was not the housekeeper that Atkins mentioned in his report.
“You must be Chief Inspector Priestly,” the young woman said with a clearly discernible northern English accent. “I’m Laura Spencer, Alistair’s fiancée. Inspector Atkins mentioned you will be coming over today evening.”
“Delighted to meet you,” said Priestly, taking off his hat. “This is my assistant, Dr. Prem Singh.”
As Laura Spencer and Prem Singh shook hands, Priestly noticed a diamond ring on the lady’s ring finger. It was unusually large.
“Alistair’s upstairs with the accountant,” Laura informed them, pointing to the large wooden staircase at the end of the front living room. “They’re expecting you. It’s the second door on the left. I’ll join you shortly.”
As Priestly and Prem Singh reached the first floor landing, they were accosted by an old Indian woman in a sari. Without speaking, she smiled at them and moved on down the stairs. After she vanished, Priestly looked at Prem Singh for confirmation.
“Yes,” the doctor confirmed. “I think that’s the housekeeper, Indira Devi that Atkins mentioned in his report. She overheard Hammond’s argument with Harrison that night.”
“Let’s talk to her later.”
Priestly knocked on the second door on the left. After a few seconds, the door was opened by a thin bespectacled Indian man wearing a dark suit.
“I’m Mahesh Rao,” he said without waiting for Priestly and Prem Singh to introduce themselves. “I represent mister Hammond’s accounting firm.” He briskly took out a metal case from his inner suit pocket and handed out two business cards to Priestly and Prem Singh. Prem Singh took a quick glance at the card which identified Mahesh Rao as representing Rao & Sons in Calcutta.
“Mister Alistair Hammond is waiting for you in his office,” Rao said, pointing to the adjoining door.
Priestly could not help but admire the splendour of the office room they were standing in. A dark brown teak desk was backed up against a large French window which opened to an outside balcony. Priestly realised it was one of the cliff-edge balconies that he had seen from the front garden. Along with a mild fragrant breeze that wafted in from the valley below, the entire room was now bathed by the last rays of the evening sun.
His attention was then drawn to the dozen or so framed photographs on the shelf which stood to one side of the desk. All the photos displayed the same stocky man in an army colonel’s uniform standing next to a succession of dignitaries. Without any effort, Malcolm Priestly immediately recognised the Prince of Wales and Lord Irwin, the current Viceroy to India. It was obvious the room used to be Colonel Hammond’s study.
The late colonel obviously had some influential friends, Priestly mused, as they walked across the room and entered the adjoining one. So it was hardly surprising that poor Atkins was coming under such intense pressure from New Delhi.
Much to the surprise of Priestly and Prem Singh, Alistair Hammond did not look anything like his late father. Shorter and thinner, Alistair looked more like an accountant than Mahesh Rao. After introductions, Alistair proposed that they sit next door in the larger living room than his cramped study.
Just as they were exiting the room, Priestly noticed a lone framed photograph on a wooden pedestal table near the door. He probably would not have even noticed it except for the complete lack of other photos in Alistair Hammond’s room. It stood alone in front of a larger curio case.
Prem Singh watched Malcolm Priestly stop for a few seconds next to the table and stare intently at the photograph. The doctor did not recognise any of the men in the photo except Alistair Hammond. But the Chief Inspector seemed unusually interested in it.
The photograph showed Colonel Hammond’s son in the middle surrounded by three other men. All the men were holding fishing rods and smiling at the camera. One of the men with a thick mop of white hair appeared to be quite a bit taller and older than the others. A large sailing boat could be seen in the immediate background with the words Dancing Mermaid painted on its bow.
For a fleeting moment, Prem Singh thought his superior had a grim expression on his face. But this quickly vanished and Priestly followed the others into the living room. The living room was indeed larger. Like Colonel Hammond’s study, its doors opened out into another balcony with an equally majestic view of the mountains.
“I’m truly sorry to hear about your tragedy,” Priestly said looking at Alistair Hammond, as they made themselves comfortable around the central table. “I’ll keep this interview as brief as I can. As you can imagine, some of my superiors are keen to see this matter closed as quickly as possible.”
Alistair Hammond nodded quietly. “I’ll be happy to assist in any way possible.”
Without being asked, Prem Singh handed over a folder to Priestly who quickly found the relevant page. Prem Singh unscrewed his fountain pen, took out the red diary from his jacket pocket and prepared to start taking notes again.
“Ah, it says here,” Priestly said, “you met John Harrison the night before your father was shot.”
“That’s right,” Alistair Hammond confirmed. “Right there,” he said, pointing to the room from which they had just walked in.
“May I ask what you did after that?”
“I had a meeting at the Savoy that night. Some old friends of mine from Leeds were in Mussoorie that day. I had dinner with them.”
“Did you see Harrison again later that night or the next day?”
“Only the next afternoon. I saw him along with the other members in the club’s smoking room. They were preparing to go out for the duck shoot.”
“Did you talk to him then?”
“No. I only caught a glimpse of him.”
“So you did not join the shoot at all?”
“No. I had received a telegram from Laura the day before. She was scheduled to arrive at around two from Landour. So I decided to wait for her at the front gate instead of the club house.”
“When did you see John Harrison again?”
“I guess just after the body was discovered. I think he was there along with the other members. Honestly, I really cannot remember too much of that afternoon. It was....all very chaotic.”
“I understand,” Priestly said, sounding very sympathetic. “Did you ever suspect John Harrison?”
“Never,” Alistair said almost in a whisper and shaking his head. “I have known him all my life. He’s almost like an uncle to me. I still cannot believe it.”
At that moment, the main living room door opened and Laura Spencer walked in along with the housekeeper they had seen earlier. The housekeeper pushed in front of her a small three tiered wrought iron tea stand on wheels. Both Priestly and Prem Singh got up immediately and offered to help.
“Tea and sandwiches,” Laura Spencer said with a big smile. Prem Singh who was the closest to her, took the plates of sandwiches and started distributing them around. Laura and the housekeeper went around pouring the tea.
“This tastes divine,” Priestly commented, sipping his tea. “Would this be from the Darjeeling plantation owned by your father and John Harrison?”
“It is indeed,” Alistair Hammond confirmed.
“According to John Harrison, your father wanted to sell the plantation and then changed his mind. Would you have any idea why?”
“I’m afraid not. In fact.....I’m not even certain he wanted to sell it in the first place. It is....was....his pride and joy. Also, it was quite profitable.”
“You mean John Harrison might be lying?”
Alistair Hammond did not answer the question directly. He watched Laura Spencer leave the room with the housekeeper and then turned to Malcolm Priestly. “My father certainly never told me about such a plan. In fact, he had asked me to visit Darjeeling this week for the plantation’s annual audit. Mister Rao here was supposed to accompany me. Why would he do that if he wanted to sell it?”
“Did he always confide his business plans with you?”
“Not the daily decisions. But something like the sale of the tea plantation......he would’ve certainly consulted me.”
Priestly placed the tea cup on the table in front of him and turned to the accountant Mahesh Rao. “I understand from Inspector Atkins, you came to Mussoorie as soon as you heard about the shooting. Is that correct?”
“That’s right. I left Calcutta as soon as I heard the news. We had already received the signed contract by then.”
“So then, I assume you’re convinced,” said Prem Singh, pointing to the tea plantation sale agreement on his lap, “Colonel Hammond’s signature has been forged.”
“Oh no,” Mahesh Rao corrected. “That’s not the reason why I came to Mussoorie. It’s just that our firm never had to deal with a case like this. I was not certain about the legal status of the agreement now that one of the signatories is deceased. You see, we are an accounting firm. We do not usually deal with such legal cases.”
“But what about the signature?” Prem Singh asked again, “Are you convinced that the colonel’s signature is authentic?”
“Oh yes. We compared it to the specimen signature on file. It certainly looks identical. Also, I had already received the confirmation by phone. I took the call myself. So there can be no doubt.”
This piece of information was new. It certainly startled Prem Singh. While his junior officer was visibly taken aback by the accountant’s last statement, Priestly’s face did not show any such emotion. The Chief inspector quietly took out the lit cigarette from his mouth and tapped it on the ash tray in front of him. He let Prem Singh continue with the questions.
“Do you mean Colonel Hammond actually called you? When did this happen?”
“On the night of the 11th,” Rao said, casting a quick glance at Alistair Hammond next to him. “The day before the.......incident.”
“And you’re absolutely certain it was the colonel at the other end?”
“As certain as I could be. It was certainly an older sounding gentleman. Also, he seemed to know all the pertinent details in the contract.”
“Do you remember what time you took the call?”
“Oh yes. At exactly thirty minutes past ten. I remember this as there is a clock directly behind the phone desk. We normally do not get any calls after seven in the evening.”
Malcolm Priestly who was staring all this time at the tea table in front of him, suddenly piped up. He tapped the cigarette again on the ash tray and looked up at Mahesh Rao. “Mister Rao,” he asked, “have you ever met Colonel Hammond before?”
“I’m afraid not. My late father who set up our firm used to handle all of the colonel’s affairs. He passed away three months ago and I took over his duties.”
“Have you ever talked to him on the phone before the night of December 11th?”
“Never. We always corresponded by post. If there was anything urgent, the colonel would send a telegram.”
“Why would the colonel send a telegram if he could just call you directly?”
“You see, I’m rarely in our Calcutta office these days. We have three other offices in Bengal. When I took over from my father, I requested all our clients to send their instructions by telegram or by post. So there will be a written record and avoids potential confusion. Also, we do not have a direct telephone line at our Calcutta office. The call came through a neighbouring office. We use their phone in case of emergencies.”
“So you cannot be absolutely certain it was the colonel on the phone?”
Now Mahesh Rao started to look a bit flustered. He got the distinct impression that Priestly was accusing him of a grave error of judgement.
“Let me assure you,” Priestly said quickly, “I’m not impugning that you made a mistake. In fact, you did the right thing by coming to Mussoorie. I just want to be certain.”
Mahesh Rao felt greatly relieved. “I had no doubt it was the colonel himself. He certainly knew all the relevant details of the proposed sale.”
“May I ask what precisely did the colonel tell you on the phone?”
“He was very specific. He said he wanted to sell the tea plantation to the Maharaja of Banjor and he will be sending the signed contract by post soon. So we were expecting it. But unfortunately.....it arrived on the same day as the news of his.....demise.”
Everyone fell silent for a few moments. The silence was broken when the living room door opened and Laura Spencer came in. As she took the chair next to Alistair, Priestly was the first to break the silence. “I think that’s all we need to know for now, Mr. Rao,” he said. “One of us will contact you if we require more information.”
Mahesh Rao prepared to get up from his chair. “May I ask what we should do about the tea plantation agreement? My office had an enquiry about its status.”
“Ah, you mean from the Maharaja of Banjor?” Prem Singh asked.
“Yes. It seems his DiWan called my Calcutta office this evening.”
“I suggest you instruct him to wait,” Priestly clarified. “The agreement and the related documents will be major pieces of evidence at the trial. They cannot be released before that.”
Mahesh Rao shook his head in acknowledgement and got up from the chair. Everyone else stood up as well and shook the accountant’s hand in turn. Rao bowed courteously and left the room.
After he left, Priestly turned to Alistair and Laura Spencer. “I wish the circumstances were different,” he said. “But may I take this opportunity to congratulate both of you on your engagement.”
Alistair Hammond and Laura Spencer smiled almost in unison. They both thanked Priestly.
“Alistair mentioned just now that you had arranged to meet him at the club that afternoon,” Priestly said, looking at Laura Spencer. “I suppose it was quite a shock for you when you arrived.”
“That’s right. I had sent Alistair a telegram the previous evening. In fact, we were supposed to tell him the good news together.”
“You mean Colonel Hammond never knew about your engagement?”
“No,” she said softly, caressing the diamond ring. “We wanted to tell him at the club that afternoon.”
“That’s indeed a sad tale,” Priestly lamented. “I’m truly sorry to hear that.”
“When do you think the trial will be over?” Alistair Hammond asked Priestly.
“In about six to eight weeks I suppose,” Priestly replied. “Are you planning your wedding?”
Alistair hesitated slightly while Laura remained silent. She avoided looking at Priestly directly, instead turned to look at her fiancé.
“Yes,” Alistair replied finally. “We’ve also decided......to leave India. I would like to wind up my father’s affairs here as soon as possible. There really is not much of a future for me here now.”
“Of course, I understand. As soon as the court proceedings are complete, I’ll be happy to expedite the release of the documents. Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to meet your housekeeper. I believe she’s the sole witness to the argument between your father and John Harrison.”
“I’ll get her,” Laura Spencer said, getting up and moving towards the door.
“I have a meeting scheduled tonight,” Alistair informed the two investigators. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take my leave now.”
“Certainly,” Malcolm Priestly replied. “But before you leave, may I enquire about an investment opportunity? John Harrison mentioned you were selling shares in a steel project in Leeds.”
Prem Singh noticed that the mere mention of a potential investment seemed to buoy Alistair Hammond. Most certainly his father’s son, mused the doctor.
“Yes, that’s right,” Alistair confirmed. “It’s a really exciting project that I’m launching with a few friends. We anticipate better than average returns. I’ll get you the prospectus soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll wish you good night. Laura will show you out later.”
After Alistair Hammond left the room, Prem Singh turned to Malcolm Priestly. “I never knew you invested in steel.”
“I haven’t so far,” Priestly replied, sitting down again and fumbling around in his jacket pocket for the cigarette case. “I’ve been in India for almost ten years now. I feel it’s time I planned my retirement.”