Death on Swift Wings (Gertrude Harrington Mysteries Book 1) Page 14

  ‘I do hope Mr Jackson doesn’t think I was rude, waving him away like that,’ she said as the door closed behind the butler. She sighed. ‘I’m very much afraid that I am not in the best of moods this morning.’

  Displaying great compassion for someone of such gruff demeanour, Lennox nodded. ‘That’s quite understandable, Lady Castleford. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, which I’m afraid will only likely get worse before it gets better.’

  ‘Will I need to identify Arthur’s body?’

  The Brigadier shook his head. ‘I have taken the liberty of doing that for you, Philippa. I didn’t think it fair to put you through such unpleasantness.’

  ‘If you wish, you may view the body later,’ Lennox added softly.

  ‘Thank you, I should like that. You didn’t tell me everything last night, Chief Inspector, so perhaps you could tell me now, how exactly did he die?’

  ‘There was a car accident. It’s pretty much guess work so far, but it seems your husband hit the brakes to avoid hitting someone – or something – and then someone shot him, which caused the crash.’

  Philippa clasped a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. ‘Why? Why would anyone want to kill my Arthur?’

  ‘We were hoping you might shed some light on that, my dear,’ said Gertrude gently.

  ‘Do you think he was shot by the person he stopped the car for?’

  ‘No,’ said Lennox. ‘The bullet came through the windscreen, but at an angle. We think it was an ambush, to steal the money he was carrying.’

  Philippa wiped her eyes, her face a mixture of anger and confusion. ‘What money? Arthur rarely carries cash about his person. He seldom ventures outside the grounds nowadays anyway.’

  ‘Are you aware of how your husband was dressed when he went out yesterday?’

  ‘I can guess, Chief Inspector. I found his journals, so I know about his secret identity, and why he was doing it.’

  ‘And what are your feelings on this?’

  Philippa shrugged. ‘In a way, I suppose I support him. After the war he lost all self-confidence. If dressing as a woman gave him back that confident streak, then good for him I say.’ She glanced at Gertrude. ‘I think you might understand more than the Chief Inspector about losing one’s confidence, Miss Harrington. Sometimes we must do crazy things to get our lives back on track.’

  ‘Very true, my dear,’ said Gertrude sadly. ‘I don’t think I could ever return to Templemead Hall after what happened to poor Mabel. Offering assistance to the Chief Inspector from time to time helps me overcome the terrible feelings of guilt I feel each day.’

  ‘Why your sense of guilt, Miss Harrington?’

  Gertrude fixed Lady Castleford with a penetrating stare. ‘Because I persuaded Lavinia Rushbrook to give Mabel the job up at the Hall. If I hadn’t done that she might still be alive today.’

  Philippa came over and sat beside Gertrude, taking the older woman by the hand. ‘You can’t know that. She might still have got that job on her own. She might have died another way. You can’t go round second guessing fate.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ sighed Gertrude. ‘However, we’re not here to talk about me.’

  Lennox cleared his throat. ‘Indeed not. Lady Castleford – these journals of your husband’s; do they say where he went, what he did and who he met?’

  ‘Not in any great detail. As Clara, he mostly just sat around and listened to what other people talked about. Most of them were strangers to him, and those that weren’t seem to have failed to recognise him.’

  ‘Do his journals say where he got the idea from, and why he chose a female disguise?’

  Brigadier Barrington-Smythe looked up sharply. ‘I can answer that, Chief Inspector. I gave him the idea for going out in disguise. I couldn’t stand seeing my friend growing more depressed with each passing day. He was becoming stifled in this house.’

  ‘But why a female disguise?’ said Lennox.

  The Brigadier tried to avoid eye contact with Lady Castleford. ‘Without wanting to seem too evasive, Chief Inspector, Arthur and I just felt that because of his stature, to disguise himself as a different man would be pointless. Anyone he knew would know instantly that it was him because he was so short. A female disguise would be much more effective. He even managed to mimic a woman’s voice quite well. And Philippa, your dresses fitted him quite nicely, you both being pretty much the same size.’

  ‘Shortness runs in the family, I’m afraid,’ Philippa sighed. ‘Henry was always getting teased at his old school because of his height. I think that’s what made him such a bully: he had to toughen up to defend himself.’

  ‘I understand he’s missing from his school,’ said Lennox. ‘We’ll get around to him later. I’m sure he’s all right,’ he added, noting Lady Castleford’s look of concern. ‘For the moment, I’m more interested in your husband and this unusual disguise of his. This money he had on him; it was quite a substantial amount by all accounts.’

  ‘Well, as I said, Arthur didn’t usually carry much cash on him. I suppose as Clara he’d have needed more to pay for meals and things.’

  Lennox cleared his throat. ‘This is more than an amount needed for meals, Lady Castleford. We believe your husband was carrying around two thousand pounds in his car when he was ambushed.’

  Philippa nearly choked on her tea. She set down her cup shakily. ‘Two thousand pounds?’ she gasped incredulously. ‘What on earth would he want that much cash for?’

  ‘More to the point, where would he get such an amount at a moment’s notice?’

  Lady Castleford looked up at the Chief Inspector. ‘We keep a supply of cash in our safe in the library,’ she said, ‘in case of emergencies.’

  ‘What else do you keep in the safe?’

  ‘My most valuable jewels, a number of stocks and bonds, Arthur’s gun, and in total about twenty thousand pounds in cash.’

  Lennox whistled. ‘That’s a lot of money.’

  ‘Yes, Chief Inspector, it is. Arthur has never really trusted the banks, so he keeps a large amount of our money in the safe.’

  ‘Would you know just by looking at it whether any is missing, or would you need to count it?’

  ‘It’s all stacked neatly in five hundred pound piles. It’d be easy enough to check if a large amount was missing. But why was he carrying that kind of money?’

  From the inside pocket of his coat, the Chief Inspector withdrew two folded sheets of paper and passed them across to Lady Castleford. ‘These were found in the driver’s side glove compartment of your husband’s car, and there was a Five-Pound note under the seat. As he was heading in the direction of Clyst St James, we can assume he was on his way to the War Memorial to deposit the money.’

  Philippa read the two blackmail notes incredulously. ‘Do you really think Arthur was being blackmailed because he’d been dressing as a woman and going out in public like that?’

  ‘I know it seems rather far-fetched, but it would appear so, Lady Castleford. Do you know who might have cause to blackmail your husband?’

  Philippa shook her head. ‘It seems unlikely that Arthur would give in to blackmail over such a trivial matter. If it became public knowledge he could either dismiss it as errant nonsense, or he would most likely admit to it. After all, it’s not like he was hurting anyone.’

  ‘Does his journal mention anything about the blackmail? Does he say anything about being recognised? Has he any other secrets that could be a motive for blackmail?’

  ‘No, Chief Inspector, nothing of that nature.’

  ‘Would you mind if I borrowed the journal? A trained eye might spot something that you’ve missed.’

  ‘I’ll fetch it for you, Chief Inspector. It’s in the library.’

  ‘Thank you, Lady Castleford. Perhaps you would be good enough to check the contents of your safe while you’re there.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Philippa disappeared from the room, and Lennox turned to Gertrude. ‘Well?’

  Gertrude s
aid: ‘Lady Castleford knows nothing about the blackmail, or about her husband’s murder.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’ asked the Brigadier.

  ‘Trust me, Brigadier: if Gertrude says Lady Castleford knows nothing, then she knows nothing.’

  ‘So we’re no closer to finding his killer!’

  ‘Plenty of time yet, Brigadier,’ said Lennox, scribbling in his notebook. ‘I’m not nearly done with my questioning.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lady Castleford crossed the hallway to the library, closing the door and locking it behind her. She had seen Jackson loitering by the stairs and something about his manner suddenly caused her concern.

  Jackson had an exemplary record of service at Castleford Manor, and never once had Lady Castleford been given cause to mistrust him. She’d never have thought him likely to listen at doors, but now she wasn’t so certain. She didn’t know if it was because he was genuinely concerned about her wellbeing following her husband’s death, or whether he was implicated in some way and wanted to know what the police thought they knew.

  Philippa was not usually given to being of a suspicious nature, but for a variety of reasons she felt ill at ease. It was not a pleasant sensation to be faced with in her own home, and even the welcoming presence of the Chief Inspector made her feel no less uncomfortable. She crossed to the windows and pulled shut the drapes, switching on the desk lamp to offer a little illumination. She had the uncanny sensation of being watched, and since she appeared to be alone in the library, if the feelings were correct it meant someone must have been observing her through one of the windows.

  Suddenly there were far more shadows encroaching upon her than she would have liked, and she quickly realised that plunging the room into near darkness with only the desk lamp to illuminate the immediate vicinity hadn’t been a particularly smart move.

  A rustling sound from behind her made her turn in alarm. One of the drapes hadn’t pulled across fully and was only now settling.

  Philippa’s mind was playing tricks on her. She knew it was irrational to believe that someone was hiding behind the drapes since she knew perfectly well that she had been alone in the library when she came in.

  But still – just to be on the safe side she marched over and yanked back the drapes that had moved. She half expected to come face to face with an intruder, or to see someone peering in through the glass, and she forced herself to stifle a scream before it developed in her throat.

  There was no one hiding behind the drapes.

  There was no face peering back at her save her own pale reflection.

  She smiled in relief, and then frowned.

  She could see someone lurking in the trees over in the distance, peering out from the gloom, staring right at her through the window.

  She blinked, clutching her hand to her mouth, and the figure was gone.

  She knew it was impossible, but for a moment she had been convinced it was Arthur staring at her.

  But it couldn’t have been – she knew that. She knew that Arthur was dead, lying on a cold slab in the mortuary at Lympton Hospital. It was just her imagination playing tricks on her; wishful thinking, hoping that there had been some terrible mistake and that any moment Arthur would make his miraculous reappearance.

  Or perhaps it was his ghost, watching over her to protect her. If she had believed in such things it would have been of some comfort – as it was she did not.

  She moved to the desk and slumped down into the chair, resting her head on her folded arms as she surrendered to quiet tears.

  Arthur was dead and he wasn’t coming back.

  She didn’t know who she had seen in the trees; perhaps she had imagined seeing anyone at all. In her current state of mind, she believed anything was possible. Guilt would eat away at her if she allowed it to; grief could do far worse. She was determined that wasn’t going to happen.

  Sitting upright in the chair, Philippa dried her eyes and reached beneath the desk to release the catch. Opening the secret compartment, she extracted the journal and placed it on the leather desktop. She then opened the safe and made a quick count of the money. She couldn’t be certain, but there seemed less than she remembered. She decided to play it safe and tell the Chief Inspector that a quantity was missing.

  How much had he said? Two thousand pounds? That was the amount she would say was missing – give or take. Having listened to what her visitors had said she was convinced that Arthur had taken the blackmail money with him when he’d driven off. The letter was fairly explicit in its instructions.

  She still couldn’t quite believe that someone thought dressing as a woman was worthy of blackmail, any more than she really believed her husband would actually give in to such blackmail demands.

  The evidence seemed to indicate otherwise, and circumstantial though it might be it was nevertheless evidence. Until proven false she must accept it – especially if it helped to find whomever was responsible for Arthur’s death.

  Chancing a final glance through the library window, Philippa was somewhat dismayed to see that the intruder was still hiding within the boundary trees, secreted more effectively so that only their pale oval face peered out towards the house.

  The figure was male; of that she was sure, but as to his age she was less certain. She felt he was on the younger side, but without the clarity of seeing him up close she couldn’t be absolutely sure.

  Hastening out of the library, Philippa yanked the door behind her but failed to close it properly. She crossed the hall and entered the drawing room to find Gertrude, the Brigadier and Chief Inspector Lennox still seated on the settees awaiting her return.

  ‘There’s someone out in the copse watching the house,’ she said, her breath catching almost asthmatically in her throat.

  The Brigadier stood up, turning to the Chief Inspector. ‘There you are,’ he crowed triumphantly, ‘didn’t I tell you someone attacked Jasper!’

  Lennox nodded. ‘Yes, Brigadier, I didn’t disbelieve you.’ He glanced at the two women, aware that while Philippa was trembling with fear, Gertrude was splendidly unafraid. ‘I want you all to stay here,’ he commanded. ‘Brigadier, if you’d look after the ladies please?’

  The Brigadier puffed his shoulders imperiously. ‘Well of course I will, young man!’

  As Lennox left the room, he exchanged a surreptitious glance with Gertrude to ensure she wasn’t offended by his asking the Brigadier to look after her. From her smile of empathy, he knew that she understood his subterfuge: his words were to reassure Philippa that it was all right to be afraid, and also to give the Brigadier a reason not to insist upon accompanying him outside. The last thing Lennox wanted was a man with sciatica plodding along behind him when the intruder might potentially pose a danger.

  ‘Did you recognise who it was, my dear?’ Gertrude said to Philippa once the Chief Inspector had gone.

  Her continued apparent lack of etiquette passed unnoticed by Lady Castleford, who shook her head. ‘I really couldn’t say. He was too far away for me to get a good look.’

  Gertrude couldn’t ignore the look of consternation on Lady Castleford’s face. ‘What is it that troubles you, my dear? You say you didn’t recognise the intruder, but I can tell you are not convinced by your own denial.’

  Philippa took a deep breath as though about to launch into a rambling explanation, but merely slumped back onto the settee. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I’m clearly imagining things.’

  Gertrude touched her arm affectionately. ‘My dear, I imagine a lot of things are going through your mind at the moment, but I sincerely doubt that you imagined anything. So what did you see?’

  Philippa looked deep into Gertrude’s eyes, tears welling and on the verge of spilling down her cheeks. ‘I’d swear I saw Arthur,’ she said, adding: ‘but that’s impossible.’

  Gertrude nodded. ‘Yes, it’s impossible. It couldn’t be your husband. And yet–’ She paused dramatically. ‘And yet I don’t doubt what you say you saw
.’

  Brigadier Barrington-Smythe cleared his throat. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I know,’ said Gertrude. ‘But then again, it does make sense. Someone was responsible for your husband’s death, Lady Castleford. His death was not without motive, so whoever killed him is probably not finished. I think you’ll find you saw what they wanted you to see. They want you to be confused, terrified even. Whatever they were after, I don’t think they found it in the car with your husband.’

  ‘What are they after? Surely they killed Arthur for that blackmail money?’

  Gertrude tapped her lips thoughtfully. ‘I’m not convinced about that. I still believe that the person who was blackmailing your husband is not the person who killed him, although it’s possible the person who was blackmailing him did take the money. I’m certain we’ll uncover that as we ask more questions in the village. Lord Castleford’s murder, I believe, is totally unconnected.’

  Philippa gasped, her fear not unfounded in Gertrude’s opinion. ‘You think that it’s the killer I saw out there?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Gertrude paused, deep in thought for a few moments. ‘Yes, I believe it was Lord Castleford’s killer you saw. He wasn’t necessarily disguised to look like your husband, but perhaps it was someone you know, someone you didn’t expect to see there in the trees. And because you didn’t expect to see this person whom you recognised, your mind convinced you that it was someone else that you didn’t expect to see: your husband.’

  Philippa was appalled. ‘I do hope the Chief Inspector isn’t walking into a trap!’

  Gertrude smiled. ‘I’ve learned it’s wise never to underestimate Chief Inspector Lennox. He’s very shrewd, very sharp, and he’ll have already worked out what we’ve just discussed and will be taking every necessary precaution. He knows how to react in such a situation. No one’s about to ambush him, I promise you.’

  ‘I do hope you’re right.’