Ampersand Papers (10 page)

‘Quite so. A strong-minded woman. And has her father under her thumb, if you ask me.’

‘I don’t ask. I’m devoid of all curiosity in the matter. Just what is this Lady Grace uneasy about?’

‘There you are!’ Once more there was mirth in the Chief Constable’s office. ‘She’s not very precise, as a matter of fact.’

‘Then invite her to be so, and in the presence of a respectably senior member of your Force.’

‘Look here, Appleby. I know you can’t have been on the scene of this affair for much more than a bare hour. But I don’t doubt you were looking about you in the old familiar way – and keeping your ears open as well. Was there anything, anything at all, that made you a shade uneasy yourself?’

‘Ah!’ Silently to himself, Appleby acknowledged that this put him awkwardly on the spot. ‘I can, as it happens, mention one very small circumstance that puzzled me. So take it down, and hand it to your fellow dealing with this grand Sutch mystification. I just chanced to notice…’

‘Appleby, you can’t ride away from the thing like that. You could call in on your way home, couldn’t you? I’ll have my man waiting at the castle to brief you. Craig’s his name. Level-headed and unassuming officer.’

‘Very well.’ To what he tried to think of as his own surprise, Appleby had given in. ‘But tell him to be at the local pub. I believe it’s called the Ampersand Arms. If he then succeeds in dragging me to Treskinnick Castle, he’ll be a notably persuasive man.’

‘Absolutely fair. About noon tomorrow?’

‘About noon.’

‘Right! Goodbye.’

Appleby put down the receiver. He wasn’t pleased with himself, and his wife wouldn’t be pleased with him either. She had invited the Birch-Blackies to dinner that evening. Appleby didn’t greatly care for the Birch-Blackies. So Judith would suspect him of wantonly evasive action if he didn’t turn up when promised. She might even make ribald remarks about the charms of Lady Grace Digitt.

These domestic cares didn’t stay with Appleby for long. Nor, for that matter, did he put in much time thinking about the late Dr Sutch, since he still knew far too little about him to make any exercise of the kind at all profitable. What he did find himself meditating as he drove through Cornwall on the following morning was something that no longer effectively existed: the fatal staircase itself. It had, for a start, one peculiar property. Take it away (and it
had
been taken away), and access to the chamber at the head of it became impossible to achieve except at the expense of much time and effort. Nobody could claw his way up that tower. Skilled men could no doubt drive into one face of it or another supports or appliances enabling some sort of ladder to be progressively built up. But it would be a risky employment. And if the vanished staircase were to be replaced (perhaps an unlikely event) quite an elaborate and costly scaffolding would be required for the purpose. Probably a fire brigade had been called in – but no fire brigade was going to tie up its vital equipment in a big way while Lord Ampersand reorganized the conduct of what appeared to be genealogical researches. It was true, of course, that once a couple of steeplejacks had been thus hoisted to the top, they could readily enough fix up some device for ascending and descending in a tolerably safe, even if hair-raising manner. But one essential consequence of what had happened was that the so-called muniment room at Treskinnick Castle had been put out of commission for some time.

There was more to the North Tower and its staircase than this. It was a set-up positively inviting a play of the imagination – and of a macabre imagination, were one feeling that way inclined. If at Treskinnick a man were to set himself to evolving anything in the way of dark villainy or miching malicho, he would be unenterprising if he didn’t build that staircase into his scenario.

This perhaps fanciful thought was still lurking in Appleby’s mind when he reached the Ampersand Arms and contacted Inspector Craig. About Inspector Craig you could tell at a glance that there was nothing fanciful at all. Nor was he a respecter of persons to the extent of being put out at being suddenly thrust into the society of a retired Commissioner. He was carrying a notebook in which all matters held relevant to the death of Dr Sutch were doubtless already ranged in an orderly manner.

‘We’ll go elsewhere’, Appleby said, without getting out of his car. ‘So get in and direct me. To another pub three or four miles away. Where we can rely on the beer, if possible.’

Craig did as he was told – and certainly without being mystified. Newspaper interest in the late Sutch must have been lively during the past few days. And while it was unlikely that any reporter was still lingering around, the Ampersand Arms would be his most likely haunt if he were. Any such hopeful snapper up of belated intelligence would unquestionably regard the arrival of Sir John Appleby on the scene as being worth a paragraph. Ludlow, it was true, would be unlikely to come across it in
The Times
. But elsewhere it might be made quite a thing of.

‘The next on the right will take us to the Cornish Elephant,’ Craig said presently. ‘A silly name, and I can’t vouch for the beer. But they do have excellent cider.’

So they settled for the Cornish Elephant, and were provided with sandwiches and cider in a deserted saloon bar.

‘I hope,’ Appleby said, ‘that your Chief Constable made it clear to you that I don’t know those people at Treskinnick from Adam.’

‘Yes, sir; he played quite fair there.’ Craig, a man of confident address, was inoffensively amused – and (what was important) clearly by no means resentful of Appleby’s irregular appearance on his pitch. ‘I think he felt you could cope with Lord Ampersand.’

‘Does Lord Ampersand need coping with?’

‘He’s perhaps a little difficult to pin down. Not very deep, I’d say – but of course you never know. Certainly not like Lord Skillet.’

‘And who is Lord Skillet?’

‘He’s the heir, and I don’t know that I’d trust him. And the same goes for Mr Charles Digitt.’

‘And who, in turn, is he?’

‘A nephew – and the next heir after Lord Skillet.’

‘I rather gathered from Mr Brunton that the only person to be uneasy about this affair is a daughter called Lady Grace. But now, Inspector, you seem to be weaving a net of suspicion here and there round this whole noble family. Is that so?’

‘Well, Sir John, I have been beginning to wonder. Somehow or other, I can’t get my mind away from that staircase.’

‘Ah, now you interest me. I’ve been feeling the same way. Something pat and obvious about the accident that doesn’t ring quite true. There’s a kind of challenge in it.’

‘Exactly, sir. Like those things about alibis in the detective stories. If somebody tipped Sutch off the staircase, that somebody has the most tremendous alibi that ever was.’

‘Not quite strictly an alibi, is it, Mr Craig?’

‘Well, no. But you see what I mean. The moment the staircase fell…’

‘…the murderer was imprisoned in the scene of his crime. He’d effectively isolated himself, and couldn’t possibly get away. And as you found no cowering miscreant, I assume, when you got somebody up there, it follows that there
was
no murder. It’s a point that Sherlock Holmes would have established at once. You were quite right, by the way, about this cider.’

‘I’m glad you like it, Sir John. I like it myself a lot more than I like the conclusion we seem forced to accept. Looked at rationally, the affair gives no hint of being other than an accident. And I hate mere baseless hunches.’

‘They can certainly land one in a mess, Mr Craig. What about this Lady Grace Digitt? Why does she imagine there was a crime, if that’s what’s in her head? She can’t be requiring you to suspect her parents or brother or sister or cousin or whomsoever of hideous wickedness.’

‘No, that’s not possible – or only on some entirely extravagant hypothesis. But I think she feels some member of her family – or at least of the household – may be suspected, and that the situation ought to be cleared up so as to obviate anything of the sort. I think she may talk about it to you as she won’t do to me.’

‘I can’t think why.’

‘Reputation, Sir John. Simply reputation.’ Craig presented this explanation with amused assurance, and as a man who knows he occasions no umbrage. Quite a good chap to work with, Appleby thought.

‘Have you a ghost of a notion, Craig, why anybody should want to kill Sutch? He sounds like some perfectly harmless drudge.’

‘All I seem to gather is that his work involved issues that might lead to family friction, even animosity. That certainly seems to be at the back of Lady Grace’s mind. And even Lord Ampersand can be felt to have a dim sense of it.’

‘What about Lady Ampersand? What sort of woman is she?’

‘I don’t think she could be called very well-informed or intelligent. But she strikes me as a sensible woman – these limitations allowed for.’

‘You know about the man called Cave?’

‘He’s on the record, of course.’ Craig tapped his notebook, which he hadn’t yet ventured to open. ‘He was your other contact, in a way, was he not?’ Craig looked shrewdly at Appleby. ‘The Chief Constable said you had some small thing on your mind, sir. It wouldn’t have been about this Cave?’

‘There in one, Inspector.’ Appleby nodded a very senior man’s approval. ‘Cave didn’t say much to me, and I wasn’t thinking of him as more than on the fringe of the affair. But what he did say included a lie. He said he’d talked to Sutch only once – some weeks before, and when they’d run up against each other by chance, and dined together. But the butler, Ludlow, says he saw them confabulating – apparently in the open air – a long time after that.’

‘It couldn’t be Ludlow who was telling the lie?’

‘Certainly it might.’ Appleby’s approval was again evident. ‘Ludlow might conceivably have some motive of his own for suggesting that those two were in some sort of conspiracy. But it’s very conjectural, Inspector.’

‘So it is.’

‘And what I caught Cave out in may be quite without significance. He was suddenly in the presence of violent death – and of a policeman. I could see that it all frightened him very much. He’d have an irrational impulse to dissociate himself from the dead man in every way. You know the strange and irresponsible fashion in which people do behave in that sort of crisis. Our work would be very much easier if they didn’t.’

‘A true word, sir. I think we ought to get on to Cave again.’

‘Yes, I think you ought.’

‘He was in the cave at the bottom of the cliff, I gather, and came out immediately the thing happened?’

‘Well, yes. I supposed him to have heard the crash. But he might have emerged a minute or two before I became aware of him. You’ve been in the cave?’

‘Of course, Sir John.’ Inspector Craig said this a shade stiffly.

‘That rope and cord were still there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Notice anything about them?’

‘They hadn’t been thrown down in a hurry.’

‘Exactly. It was an almost finical chap who disposed them the way they were. A fisherman would wind them into a coil, no doubt – but not quite like that. Or so it struck me, Craig.’

‘Would you call this Cave finical?’

‘Good question. Yes. A sort of lightweight scientific mind. Leave things tidy in the lab.’

‘Cave might have been depositing the stuff there.’

‘Certainly he might. Or have gone in to retrieve it – and bolted out when the staircase tumbled. If he’d just been up to something shady, it would account for his funk.’

‘It seems, Sir John, that he departed from that pub almost as soon as he’d got back to it. We’d taken his statement, of course, for what it seemed worth. But we’ll put him on our list again.’ Inspector Craig opened his notebook at last. ‘And now, sir, may I tell you everything I’ve gathered?’

‘Another half-pint of the cider, and go ahead.’

And in the most orderly way, Craig proceeded to tell Appleby much – but not all – that the reader already knows about the Ampersands and their concerns.

At Treskinnick Castle Appleby was received not by Lord Ampersand (who was declared to be walking the dogs) but by Lord Ampersand’s elder daughter, Lady Grace Digitt. Both the Chief Constable and Inspector Craig had made remarks preparing Appleby for something of the kind. Of the crisis that had befallen this noble household Lady Grace had more or less taken charge.

Her younger sister, Lady Geraldine, was also present. She might have been described, perhaps, as in attendance, since her contribution to the discussion mainly took the form of affirmative nods. If she wanted at times to shake her head in a strongly negative fashion (and Appleby somehow suspected that she did) she steadily repressed any such impulse. She managed to give an impression of being ready to pounce, all the same. If Grace was indeed a clever public woman, Geraldine was perhaps the same thing a shade
manqué
.

‘The man Sutch,’ Grace said, ‘came to us on the recommendation of my brother, Skillet.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Appleby gave an affirmative nod of his own. ‘Lord Skillet’s name has been mentioned to me by Inspector Craig.’

‘No doubt, Sir John. And it is my fear that my brother was deceived.’

‘Although he is very clever,’ Geraldine said helpfully. ‘Archie is very clever indeed.’

‘It may be so, Geraldine.’ Grace had frowned slightly. ‘But it is my point that Sutch was a most undesirable person, who has ended by occasioning us very considerable embarrassment. That wretched staircase was undoubtedly in very poor repair – but Sutch, nevertheless, must have been uncommonly careless on it. It was thoughtless of him, to say the least. My father will be most distressed if unfavourable comment is passed on the situation at, say, the inquest. I shall speak to the coroner about it beforehand, and have no doubt that he will be discreet.’

‘It is a pleasant confidence to have, Lady Grace.’

‘But others may not be. The position is extremely vexatious, and may become even more so if it begins to be suspected that there was some sinister background to the affair.’

‘Do you yourself feel that there was something of the kind?’