Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

BEATTIE BEATTY HAD prepared a cold salad lunch for Theo, and suggested to him that he might like to eat it in the orangery. “There’s plenty of shade under the trees,” she said, “and you wouldn’t be worried by wasps and things. Shall I set it up there for you?”

She always hoped that he would invite her to join him, be a companion and share their lives more than before. But he never did. She remembered that in his youth he had been a gregarious young man, with friends in all strata of society. But she had seen nothing of that in him for years. He kept her firmly in her place socially, reluctantly allowing her to take over the running of the estate. But he never made a personal move towards her, never a one.

“Thank you, Beattie,” he said. “That would be very nice. And shall we be quite clear that no doors are to be locked in future unless I lock them? That will be all now. Give me a call when lunch is ready for me.”

So that’s that, thought Beattie, as she went back to the kitchen. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea. Perhaps she should have let that Mrs. Bloxham have a short talk with him. She could have stayed in her usual listening place and monitored what they said. Well, she hadn’t, and so now she had to think of another way of keeping both those old women, Mrs. Bloxham and her cousin, away from any revealing conversations with her master. Master! If he was her master, it followed that she was his mistress, didn’t it? If only that were true, how different things would be.

After washing up lunch dishes-no dishwasher for her-she retreated to a seat in the garden with her book. It was riveting, and she could hardly wait for the next chapter. Set back in Victorian times, it was a story based on an actual case of poisoning, and one of such fascinating detail that she had read several passages over twice. A young Scottish woman had taken an unsuitable lover, and met him clandestinely for scenes of unbridled passion. When he threatened to expose their affair, she worked out a most ingenious way of doing away with him, luring him into unmentionable practices involving a slow poisoning through ingestion.

“Phew!” said Beattie, loosening her blouse. It was really very hot this afternoon. Maybe she should make sure that Theo had not gone to sleep in the sun. Well, a few more minutes wouldn’t do any harm, she thought, and turned the page.

GUS’S VISIT TO join Ivy and Deirdre had, as expected by Ivy, been extremely useful. “We have to be even more devious than Beattie,” he said. “Out-think the old dragon. Now, lets make a plan.”

They had put their heads together over fresh coffee and another supply of cookies, and were pleased with the result. Gus had wanted to know if they had heard of any regular trips into town made by Beattie. Didn’t she go to market every week? And did she take the morning or afternoon bus? Did Theo ever go out on his own? If so, where, and how did he manage? Did he visit any local friends or tenants? That Rose Budd was an attractive woman. Deirdre had blushed. “Really, Ivy!” she had said. “I’m surprised at you. She is a married woman.”

“Be your age, and don’t be so ridiculous, Deirdre!”

Gus had decided to change the subject. “Now,” he’d said, “the best source of answers to my questions would probably be Will at the shop. I can call on my way back.”

Now he sat in the window seat of the pub, thinking over what Will had said, and making notes.

Beattie went to market every Saturday afternoon without fail. She arranged for the wife of their one remaining farmworker to sit with Theo, who, since this was the bubbly blond Rose Budd, never complained. It was said in the pub that Rose played croquet on the lawn with him in the summer, and Scrabble in the drawing room in the winter. Other humorous suggestions were made, but not taken seriously. Remembering what Ivy had said, Gus took them seriously.

This was really good news, Gus thought, chewing the end of his pen. Now, what else? Theo had few friends, apparently. Old chums had tried, but met a stone wall in Beattie. Not that she antagonised them, but in a subtle way led them to think that Theo had become very much a recluse, not wanting friends interrupting his mammoth task of writing his memoirs. Some persisted for a while, but in the end accepted what Beattie said, and gave up. She had exaggerated the memoir writing, of course, although he occasionally set down memories of the past.

Gus left the pub, and returned home to telephone Deirdre. Tomorrow was Saturday, market day, and while Beattie was in town they would have two and a half hours to allow Deirdre to renew her friendship with Theo. The key player would be Rose Budd, and Gus was confident that he could draw her into a plot to foil the old dragon. But first, Deirdre, then Ivy, to keep the old thing informed. Then Rose. She had said to ask her if there was anything he needed to know, so he had the perfect excuse for knocking on her door.

“Hello? Deirdre, is that you? Gus here. Now, good news, but listen carefully.” He explained that they had to time the visit so that Beattie would have no suspicions. Ivy would be lookout, sitting on the seat outside the shop, when the afternoon bus picked up passengers. Then she would return later with Gus’s mobile phone in her handbag, and would ring the Hall to alert them to Beattie’s return.

“What about Rose Whatsit?” Deirdre said. “Will she let me in? You bet old Beattie has given her strict instructions to admit nobody!”

Gus smiled modestly. “I think you can leave Rose to me,” he said. “I’ve met her already, and she was extremely friendly and helpful. I’m sure she would have every sympathy with an attempt to brighten the life of the old boy. Will at the shop says that her husband works like a slave on the estate, and is certainly not overpaid for his labours. Beattie holds the purse strings, it seems. Any attempt to get one back on the old dragon will be enthusiastically received, I reckon. Anyway,” he continued, “if Rose won’t play ball, I’ll think of something else and let you know. So, best bib and tucker tomorrow afternoon, and best of luck.”

“Bearing in mind what Ivy suspects about Theo and Miriam Blake,” Deirdre said slowly, “my most important task is to find out what went on, what he knows and thinks about the whole murder mystery, isn’t it? Persuading him to be our client seems to have taken a backseat, especially since Ivy decided we should keep our heads down for a bit?”

“Absolutely,” said Gus. “Quite right. Get him talking, not too much reminiscing about your own steamy affair with him, and gently point him in the right direction. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He wasn’t that sure, but knew that this was a chance not to be missed. It was Deirdre on trial, really.

IVY NEXT. SHE grasped the whole plan in minutes. No, she didn’t need a tutorial on how to use a mobile. Young Katya had one, and would be a willing teacher. “The young are so much better at it than we are, Gus,” she said, well aware that he would object to being bracketed with an old lady in her seventies.

He grinned to himself. Ivy Beasley was one of the best, he decided. Meeting Ivy had made his settling in Barrington worthwhile. Then he thought of his ex-wife’s letter and enclosures, and wondered if Ivy would be up for loaning him a small amount to help him out. Of course not! No point in asking, and in any case, it would scupper the whole project if he was in debt to her. At the moment he was precariously at the helm of Enquire Within, but at any time his position could be challenged by the cousins.

Gus looked at himself in the cracked kitchen mirror, and smoothed down his thinning hair to disguise the fact that his head was beginning to show through. He straightened his shoulders, persuaded himself that he was still an attractive proposition, and set out to tackle Rose Budd.