Charles Todd - A Bitter Truth

And then it was simply a matter of waiting.

In the end, Gran played a game of patience, while Margaret and Henry went up to pack, saying, “At least we’ll be prepared when the time comes.”

Eleanor, Alan’s widow, was upset, and her brother had taken her to her room. Mrs. Ellis went to consult with Daisy and the cook over the menu, because we suddenly realized that it was nearly one o’clock and no one had given a thought to lunch.

I sat to one side, in an effort to afford the family a little privacy. Lydia ignored me and everyone else. She was as removed from the other occupants of this house, I thought, as she would have been sitting on the train to London. Roger Ellis paced the floor until his mother ordered him to stop. Alan’s widow and her brother came down again a little later and sat in the window seat, looking out across the heath, speaking in low voices, and the hands of the clock moved with ridiculous slowness.

It was nearly three o’clock, and we’d had a light luncheon for which no one had much appetite, when Constable Austin came to the door. With him was an older man by the name of Rother, the Inspector now in charge of the case. He was thin, hair thinning as well, and there was an air of resignation about him that made me think at once of bad news.

And it was.

“Lieutenant Hughes did not drown, as we’d thought earlier,” he said bluntly, when he’d collected all of us in the hall. Daisy and Molly and the cook looked ill at ease seated in our midst, and Mr. Rother’s words only added to their distress. “There is evidence,” he went on, “to indicate that he was deliberately murdered. I’m afraid that I shall have to consider all of you as suspects until we’ve got this matter properly sorted out. Please give your name to Constable Austin, here, and I’ll ask by and by for a statement from each of you. No one will be allowed to leave the premises until I have given them clearance to go. I’m sorry if this presents a problem for any of you, but I’m afraid I have no choice. And so neither do you.”

Gran spoke up sharply. “I’ll remind you, young man, who we are.”

But Inspector Rother cut her short. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ellis. We must treat everyone alike. No matter what their names may be or what their connections are.”

And so we came one by one to speak to Constable Austin while Roger escorted the Inspector up the stairs to have a look at George Hughes’s bedroom.

The day dragged on as we were interviewed one at a time, and the house was searched-for what I didn’t know. The murder weapon? By dinner we were all out of sorts. I heard Gran say with some asperity, “If George had to get himself murdered, why couldn’t he have done it somewhere else?”

When it was my turn, I admitted to my conversation in the sitting room with George Hughes after everyone else had gone to bed, although I was reluctant to tell Constable Austin why George found it difficult to sleep and I myself had chosen to spend the night in the family’s sitting room rather than in my own bed. Casting about for something that would make sense, I said, finally, “He had a good deal on his mind. He spoke to me about his late brother and the fate of children in orphanages in France. I gathered that was an interest of his, how they were treated.”

Constable Austin looked up at me from the notes he was making. “Why should a man who is a bachelor wish to know about French orphans?”

“You must ask Captain Ellis. Or someone else in the family. They’ve known-knew-Lieutenant Hughes for most of his life.” The words were no sooner out of my mouth than I regretted them. It was not my intention to make an issue of the argument between the two men, or raise embarrassing questions in the minds of the police. I added, “The war is never far from anyone’s thoughts.”

He nodded. “Sad to say.” And then he surprised me. “You didn’t sleep in your bed last night, I’m told. Nor did the Lieutenant.”

I could feel the color rising in my face. Who had been talking out of turn? “I have no idea how Lieutenant Hughes spent the remainder of the night. As for me, I’ve just returned from France, and sometimes I find it difficult to rest. We’re accustomed to long hours and very little sleep.” It was not quite true-I had learned to sleep anywhere, whenever I had the chance. But I could hardly tell this man that Lydia had been crying herself to sleep in my bed and I hadn’t wished to disturb her. He would begin to wonder why she hadn’t slept in her own. And that would lead to more questions that I didn’t want to be the one to answer.

Changing the subject without warning, he asked, “How did Mrs. Roger Ellis come by the bruises on her face?”

“I wasn’t here when that happened. However I heard her husband tell his dinner guests that she had run into a cupboard door. It takes some time for such discoloration to fade.”

“It doesn’t appear to be that sort of bruise. My guess is that someone struck her with the back of his hand.”

“Then perhaps you should ask her.”

“I did. She refused to discuss it. Her view was that it had nothing to do with Lieutenant Hughes’s death.”

“There you are, then,” I agreed.

“When did you know that Lieutenant Hughes was missing?”

This was another minefield. “The first inkling we had was when one of the maids asked if she should continue to hold breakfast for him. We went to Wych Gate Church to look for him-apparently it was a favorite walk of his.”

“Why did you go in the station carriage, when there were motorcars available?”

“Mrs. Roger Ellis wished to take the train to London. But she was in no hurry.”

“It seems odd that Mrs. Ellis was so insistent on finding the Lieutenant.”

“He hasn’t been well. She treats him more or less the same way she treats her own son. As I understand it, she has known him all his life.”

“Why did the two of you-Mrs. Ellis and you-decide to go down to the stream?”

“I don’t really know,” I told him. “We were just being thorough. I remember she said something about her son and the Lieutenant playing there often as boys.”

“Mrs. Ellis insisted on walking as far as the stream.”

“I don’t remember her insisting.” I had a feeling Lydia had told him that.

“It seems to me that she searched until she found the body. As if she had known it was there.”

I wasn’t going to be drawn into speculating. “I was there with her. I saw her shock when she realized that something had happened. It appeared to be genuine to me.”

He changed direction. “Odd that you and the younger Mrs. Ellis should be returning to London with the house still full of guests.”

Exasperated, I said, “The guests, as you call them, are members of her family.”

“How well did you know Lieutenant Hughes?”

I couldn’t hide my surprise. “To my knowledge, I’ve never seen him before this weekend.”

“And yet he came to the sitting room to speak to you late last evening. After everyone else had gone to bed. I’m told you were still dressed in your evening clothes this morning.”

“To be perfectly honest, he came into the room looking for the brandy decanter. He found me there and retreated without it. I hardly consider that a late-night assignation. He had a reputation for drinking more than he ought.”

He closed his notebook. “I would advise you, Sister Crawford, not to make any new plans to return to London at this time.” Rising, he walked to the door and held it open for me.

I stared at him, shut my lips on the comment I was tempted to make. But it was obvious that someone had been telling tales, and I suspected it might be Gran, whose tongue was not always guarded. She could even have pointed a finger in my direction to keep the police from asking too many questions about her grandson’s relationship with George Hughes.