Going over the inspector's head might give umbrage, Daisy thought, and make him less likely to heed a plea to keep the anonymous letters from Vi. To her relief, Johnnie shook his head.
“No, I dare say I'd only hear the same from him. I'll send for them,” he continued, “but I must insist on myself and Miss Dalrymple being present.”
“You, sir, naturally. We try not to interview young children without a grown-up family member present. But ⦔
“Miss Fletcher has no family member in the house,” Johnnie
interrupted. “Unless you wish to wait until her father arrives ⦔
“Her father?” Flagg was obviously startled, dismayed, and annoyed. “You mean Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher is coming down?”
“Purely in a personal capacity, I understand. He is engaged to be married to Miss Dalrymple. She is the nearest thing to a relative Belinda has at hand.”
The inspector sighed. “Very well, Miss Dalrymple stays, but please, ma'am, not a word of prompting. Otherwise I'll have to stop and give it another go when the chief inspector gets here. You won't be wanting to put the child through it twice.”
“No,” Daisy agreed meekly.
“I'll send for them.” Johnnie moved towards the bell to summon Mitchell.
“Wait, Johnnie. Before you speak to Derek and Belinda, Inspector, you really must listen to what I have to tell you. It's important.”
“Not now, please, Miss Dalrymple, I'm pushed for time. I left the police surgeon and my fellows down there, and I must go and find out what they've come up with.”
“I think you ought to hear her out,” said Johnnie with a grimace of resignation.
Flagg glanced at his wrist-watch. “I can't spare you more than a few minutes.”
“Right-oh. Do sit down.”
“Something to drink, Inspector?” offered Johnnie, with an air of postponing the dreadful moment.
“A beer would be welcome, sir, if there's one to hand.”
“No, but I can send forâ”
“I haven't the time to spare, sir. No matter. Be so good as to ring for the children and I'll listen while we wait for them.” Impatient, he leaned forward in his chair, hands on his knees,
while Johnnie rang the bell, picked up his whisky and subsided nearby. “Now, Miss Dalrymple.”
No time to beat about the bush. Daisy plunged straight in. “There has been a spate of anonymous letters in Rotherden recently, Inspector. I believe the murder may be connected with them.”
For a moment Flagg sat absolutely still, his shrewd blue eyes fixed on her face. Then he sat back and took out his notebook. “Anonymous letters, eh? We can't do a great deal about those unless they contain threats or blackmail.”
“The ones I've read, or heard about in detail, had neither, but they were pretty foul and upsetting, and there's always the possibility they might proceed to blackmail.”
“You don't reside in Rotherden, Miss Dalrymple. You are not a victim, I take it?” No, the detective was certainly no fool. Even as he asked, his gaze swung to Johnnie.
“Yes, Inspector, I've had letters,” Johnnie admitted gloomily.
“Well, I shan't waste time now asking why you informed your wife's sisterâor how she discovered for herself. Let me hear your ideas about the murder, if you please, ma'am.”
As Daisy yet again set forth her two opposing theories, the butler came in. Johnnie told him to have the children sent down, then Daisy finished her exposition.
Flagg nodded slowly. “Sounds reasonable,” he conceded, “though we may find a more straightforward motive once we start investigating. A village girl Professor Osborne's got into trouble, or something of the sort. Still, we'll bear it in mind. You'd better tell me who you reckon might have done itâwho else received these letters, that is, besides Lord John.”
As Johnnie absorbed the implication, his mouth opened, then shut again without utterance. He took a swig of his hitherto untouched whisky.
If Flagg was no fool, neither was he a toady. Daisy quite
approved of him, on the whole, but she jolly well hoped Johnnie had a witness to his presence far from the churchyard.
“Where were you between half past two and five to three?” she asked him.
“Now, now, Miss Dalrymple,” the inspector reproved, “that's for me to ask. But since it's said, my lord, perhaps you wouldn't mind answering?”
“Not at all,” Johnnie said eagerly. “I was out riding all afternoon, all over the estate. I was lookingâ”
“Alone?”
“With Jackson, my bailiff. He thinks we ought to get a tractor, but most of my arable is under hops so we were lookingâ”
“You were with Mr. Jackson the entire afternoon?”
“Sorry, I tend to get a bit carried away. You're not interested in tractors, of course. Yes, Jackson was with me the whole time.”
Daisy breathed again.
“I'm glad to hear it, sir, though naturally we'll be checking with him. Is he on the telephone by any chance?”
“No, but his place is just a hundred yards or so up the lane. Turn right at the gates, and Hillside Cottage is just along on your right. You can't miss it.”
“Thank you, sir. I'll get on to him this evening. Please don't attempt to speak to him before I do.”
“Whyâ?” Johnnie started with a puzzled frown, then his face cleared. “Oh, because his livelihood depends on me. Silly of me. I daresay he might be tempted to lie for me, but he doesn't need to. Inspector, there's no need to let my wife know I've been getting these letters, is there?”
“Ah, like that is it, my lord? Never fear, I'll do my best to keep her ladyship in the dark, and I can't say fairer than that.” Flagg's understanding tone had a touch of amusement. Johnnie bridled, but he was hardly in a position to protest.
“Johnnie hadn't the foggiest who wrote them,” said Daisy. “That's why he asked me to try to find out.”
“Did he, now?” Flagg fixed her with an unwavering stare. “I've been racking my brains to imagine what motive a young lady of your standing might have for doing in a professor of Latin and Greek. After all, you are the one person we know was at the scene of the crime between the start of the WI meeting and the arrival of the footman. Now, if you had discovered Professor Osborne was the Poison Pen, you might decide on the spur of the moment to seize the chance to eliminate the threat to your sister and her husband. Mightn't you?”
W
hile Daisy and Johnnie were still gaping at Inspector Flagg in stunned silence, Derek and Belinda came in. The arguments on the tip of Daisy's tongue had to be bitten back. The children must not know she was suspected of murder.
Since Johnnie appeared too flabbergasted to cope, Daisy said, in a voice she hoped sounded like a croak only to her own ears, “Bel, Derek, Inspector Flagg wants to ask you a few questions.”
“I expect you have been talking about this afternoon,” the inspector said to them, “but all the same, I'd like to see you two young people separately, so that you don't get mixed up with each other's answers. All right?”
They nodded solemnly.
“You first, Miss Belinda.” He smiled at her as she crossed to Daisy and took her hand in a tremulous clasp, leaning on the arm of her chair. “Lord John?”
“You'd better take Derek to wait in the library, Johnnie.”
Johnnie failed to insist on his gentlemanly duty to protect the ladies. The omission was probably due to his dazed state, but Daisy chose to attribute it to his recognition of her ability to defend herself and Belinda.
“Suppose I don't remember properly,” Bel asked anxiously.
“All I want is what you remember, missie,” said Flagg, fatherly and reassuring. “Now, you walked down the avenue with Miss Dalrymple?”
“And Derek and Tinker Bell. That's his dog. I wanted to go and hear Aunt Daisy speak to the meeting, but she said it wouldn't be interesting, so we stopped at the gates. Aunt Daisy went across the road. Derek said, âLet's climb the gate,' and he took off his gumboots and climbed up to the top, and then he said, âAunt Daisy's checking her stocking-seams are straight.'”
Daisy blushed, and Inspector Flagg said gravely, “You've got a very good memory. Comes of being a policeman's daughter, I expect. What next?”
“I took off my boots. I put them allâmine and Derek'sâI I put them through the gate so Tinker wouldn't run off with them. Then I climbed up. It was quite easy,” Belinda assured the detective.
“And what did you see from the top?”
“I looked over to the graveyard and I saw Aunt Daisy bending over something. I said, âWhat's she doing?' and Derek said, âSomething's fallen over. That great big angel, I think. You wouldn't know.' 'Cause I don't live here,” she explained. “Then Aunt Daisy took her hankie out of her bagâat least, I think it was her hankie. It was something white. She put it down on the ground and came hurrying back. That's when she told us there was an accident and to ring up the doctor and the police. After that, we just put on our boots and ran home to the telephone.”
“I see. How long would you say it took between Miss Dalrymple crossing the lane and Master Derek seeing her checking ⦠er, hm ⦠and Master Derek saying he could see her?”
“Just a minute,” Belinda said earnestly. “Half a minute. His gumboots are new and a bit too big so he can grow into them,
so they're easy to take off. And he climbs ever so fast.
Frightfully
fast,” she corrected herself.
“And you didn't notice anyone in the lane?”
“There wasn't anyone.”
“That's all then, thank you, Miss Fletcher,” said Flagg. “That wasn't too bad, was it? Tell me, did Tinker Bell work out she could get at the boots if she went around the gate?”
“No,” said Belinda, laughing.
The inspector stood up. “Thank you, too, Miss Dalrymple.” He gave her a bland smile.
“Not at all, Inspector,” Daisy said ironically, half inclined to wish she had not helped with the information about the Poison Pen. But it was true, as she had told Johnnie, that it was better to be frank with the police. Concealment only furthered their suspicions, justified or not. “I wish to speak with you when you are finished with Derek,” she informed him in her most haughty manner, and was glad to see him look a trifle apprehensive.
He went off to the library.
“He's nice, isn't he?” Belinda remarked. “Aunt Daisy, was Professor Osborne really murdered?”
“I'm afraid it looks like it, darling.”
“Oh well,” said Belinda philosophically, “Daddy's coming and he'll soon find out who did it. I've got to go back to the nursery, now. I promised to read Peter a story before he lies down.”
Daisy went to replenish her supply of nuts, thinking what a pity it was that being nervous made her eat more instead of destroying her appetite. Inspector Flagg did not leave her long on tenterhooks. He reappeared in a couple of minutes, with Johnnie at his heels.
“You'll be happy to hear, Miss Dalrymple,” said the inspector, his face stolid but a gleam in his eyes, “that young Master
Derek confirms Miss Belinda's account. He's quite certain the angel had fallen before ⦠he climbed the gate.”
“Before I had time to get anywhere near it, you mean,” Daisy corrected him tartly. “I'm no more a fool than you are, Inspector.”
“I'm aware of that, ma'am. That's why I didn't consider your sending for the police and the doctor to be evidence of your innocence. You would have realized ⦠Still, that's all water under the bridge. You and Lord John appear to be out of the running.”
“I'm glad you realize that, Inspector,” Johnnie said sourly, but Daisy noted Flagg's “appear to be,” and recalled Alec's reluctance to cross anyone off his little list.
“I hope you'll let bygones be bygones, ma'am.”
“Being engaged to a detective,” said Daisy dryly, waving him to a chair, “I accept that you were only doing your duty. I take it you want to know the other recipients of anonymous letters.”
“If you please, ma'am.” His meekness was undoubtedly put on, though Johnnie seemed satisfied that the upstart was cowed.
“I'm only certain of two others,” Daisy said, “and I don't think Johnnie has any need to hear about them.”
“No, but I shan't desert you,” her brother-in-law said stoutly, and he moved to the far end of the room.
“Mrs. LeBeau got one while I was with her,” Daisy told Flagg in a low voice, “and she told me she'd had several. I ought to mention that I warned her I'd be reporting them to the police.”
“Did you, now? And what was her reaction?”
“Isn't that hearsay, Inspector, or something of the sort? Oh, well, she was naturally dismayed, but she didn't try to stop me. The other person I'm sure of doesn't know I know. I saw an envelope, exactly like the ones Johnnie described and Mrs.
LeBeau showed me, addressed to Dr. Padgett.”
“Padgett! Isn't he the doctor who first examined the body?”
“Yes. I know it's a pity,” Daisy excused herself, “but I was in a bit of a state and hadn't worked things out yet. I still thought it was the vicar. Besides, Padgett was the closest doctor and I couldn't very well have told the children to try to find someone else.”
“No, no,” said Flagg soothingly, “you did the best you could in the circumstances. But that reminds me ⦔ He glanced at his watch. “Dr. Soames, the police surgeon, will be waiting for me, and he's not a patient man. I must be off. Those you think may have had letters, and those, other than the professor, who you think may have written them, can wait until tomorrow. Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am, my lord.”
Not waiting for the butler to be summoned to show him out, the inspector loped to the drawing room door. There he paused and, turning his head, said in a grim voice, “Be so good as to inform Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher I'd appreciate a word with him.” With that, he departed.
“Whew!” Johnnie made an elaborate show of wiping his forehead, then finished his whisky in one swig. “I quite expected the fellow to haul one or the other or both of us off to prison. I'm most frightfully sorry to have put you through that, Daisy. I ought never to have asked you to investigate.”
“I didn't have to accept,” Daisy pointed out. “Admittedly I wasn't expecting to be suspected of murder, but nor were you, and no doubt it's good for me to be on the other side of the fence for once. I dare say Alec will say so, anyway.”
“I'm afraid Flagg's not awfully pleased about Fletcher coming down.”
“Oh, Alec will spin him a yarn about only coming to stop me meddling. Which is probably true, whatever he told Vi
about worrying about Belinda. Gosh, look at the time. We'd better go and change for dinner.”
Â
Motoring through the Kent countryside, newly rainwashed and lit by the evening sun, Alec was conscious only of gladness. He was looking forward to four days with Daisy and Bel, and if there was a murder in the offing, it was entirely someone else's responsibility.
His host and hostess, Lord and Lady Johnâto call the former Frobisher was easy enough, but could he bring himself to address Daisy's sister as Violet?âhe had met only briefly, at the crowded engagement party. He was accustomed to summing people up quickly, though, and had approved of what he saw. Lady JohnâVioletâseemed a quiet, self-contained woman, quite unlike both her spirited sister and their sharp-tongued mother, and with a charmingly friendly smile. Frobisher was a decent country squire. Though not particularly quick-witted, nor was he a red-faced, view-hallooing booby, thank heaven.
They were kind to Belinda. Alec knew Daisy was fond of both of them, and he was quite prepared to like them, too.
So as to take advantage of daylight while it lasted, he did not stop to eat until he reached Ashford. After plaice with fried potatoes and runner beans, and a pint of an excellent local beer, he returned to his Austin Seven. He almost managed to convince himself he was not tempted to call in at the police station to find out what was going on.
Temptation successfully resisted, he drove on. Though it was now full dark, Lady John's directions were clear and easy to follow. Less than half an hour later, he turned in between the iron gates of Oakhurst.
For once he was greeted by a butler to whom he was merely
a guest, with no taint of Law and Order. Mitchell probably knew, in the omniscient way of butlers, that Mr. Fletcher was a policeman, but such was not his present function.
“Miss Belinda left a message, sir, asking you to go up to say goodnight, but she'll be long asleep by now.”
“I'll go up anyway.”
“Very good, sir. The family are taking coffee in the drawing room, sir, if you care to join them afterwards.”
Mr. Fletcher cared. “You need not wait about. I'll take myself in.”
“Very good, sir. I'll inform her ladyship of your arrival.”
Bel was fast asleep, not stirring when he kissed her. He went down again and through the door Mitchell had pointed out.
Daisy sprang up, flew to him, and hung on to him, rather tight. As his arms closed around her, he remembered that though the murder was none of
his
business,
she
had suffered the horror of finding the body.
“Oh, Alec,” she whispered, “I'm most frightfully glad you're here, darling. It was beastly, but we won't talk about it now, please, for Violet's sake.”
He gave her a quick, fierce hug, then went to say his how-do-you-do's. Violetâit was quite easy after all to use her christian nameâpoured him coffee. Frobisher added a glass of cognac. They talked about how the children had occupied themselves since Belinda's arrival. To Alec, the Frobishers praise of his daughter was even headier than the smooth old brandy.
After a while, the conversation somehow moved on to tractors and other modern farm machinery. Alec knew nothing of the subject, but he found Frobisher's well-considered views on the effects of mechanization interesting. It was Violet who noticed that Daisy's head was nodding.
“The poor dear has had an exhausting day of it. Come along, Daisy darling, we'll go up and leave the men to their reapers and binders and hop-pickers.”
So Alec had no opportunity that evening to talk to Daisy in private. He and his host went out to the terrace to smoke their pipes, chatting casually. Frobisher did not refer to the murder except for voicing, as they parted for the night, a rather incoherent apology for Daisy's involvement.
“Oh, and,” he added, “ah, Inspector Flagg hopes you can spare him a few minutes tomorrow. 'Night, Fletcher.” With that, he disappeared into his bedroom.
Thus, when Alec awoke early next morning, he had no more knowledge of the business than he had gained in yesterday's two brief telephone calls, when he had spoken only to Violet and the children.
It was too early for breakfast, too early even for early morning tea, but he did not feel like staying in bed. Outside the sun shone. He bathed and dressed, and went to the nursery where breakfast was by then in progress. Belinda was delighted to see him, Derek thrilled. Peter fixed him with an unwinking stare, said “Hello,” when prompted, and then returned his full attention to excavating his boiled egg.