T Kinsey - In the Market for Murder (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery Book 2)

‘You know I’m going to agree anyway, Inspector; you can drop the soft soap.’

‘It’s no mere flattery, my lady. You might be undisciplined, untutored and prone to wild flights of whimsical speculation, but blow me if you don’t end up at the solution anyway. The pair of you proved yourselves more than once round these parts. And after last autumn’s shenanigans I’ve a pretty shrewd idea that you’re no mere effete socialite and her timid lady’s maid, either. One hears things down at HQ. Probably things one isn’t supposed to hear. But I’ve pieced a few things together and I’d be honoured to have ladies such as you on my side.’

‘Then fear not, Inspector, darling, we shall do our bit. Where do we start? Who was this Caradine? Did he have a wife? Where can we find her? Who were his friends? What are the local bobbies up to?’

The inspector chuckled throatily once more. ‘I knew you were the ladies for the job. Thank you. I don’t have all the details yet, but I’ve got a couple of lads making some preliminary inquiries over in Chipping Bevington. I’ll make sure you have a full report first thing in the morning. The local bobbies are . . . let’s just say that I’d rather they weren’t too closely involved. Well-meaning chaps, but not among Nature’s great thinkers. Be polite, but don’t rely on them for anything. Your own local man, Sergeant Dobson, will be able to contact me at Bristol CID if you need me. I’ll pop by in a couple of days to see how you’re getting on.’

‘Right you are, Inspector,’ she said. ‘Of course you know what we’re going to have to fetch out now, don’t you?’

‘Your infamous crime board, my lady?’ he said with a smile.

‘The very same,’ she said. ‘Flo, why does everyone have that look on their face every time they mention the crime board?’

‘Because it’s the most preposterously silly idea they’ve ever heard, my lady?’ I said.

‘Heathens!’ she said. ‘Heathens and philistines! You don’t have the trained minds of the scientist, that’s all. Clarity of thought, that’s what’s required. Organization. Connections. Reasons. The board helps me think. We shall fetch it from the attic this very evening, Inspector, and begin our analysis.’

‘She means I’ll fetch it,’ I said.

‘I’m poorly,’ she said weakly, clutching her side. ‘I was shot in the stomach, you know. I try not to talk about it, but it prevents me from fetching blackboards and easels from the attic.’

‘And she means that we’ll begin our analysis tomorrow when we have your officers’ report and know what there is to analyse.’

The inspector put down his teacup and stood.

‘It seems it’s all in hand then,’ he said. ‘I shall take my leave. Good afternoon, my lady, and thank you again.’

I stood too, and went to see him out. When we were in the hall, I spoke quietly. ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if you really do need our help, but this is the most animated she’s been in quite a while. You’re something of a breath of fresh air yourself.’

He shook my hand and I opened the front door for him.

‘You really were my first thought when I realized I needed help,’ he said. ‘But I’m glad I could be of some small service in return. I shall be in touch presently.’

He walked down the path to the waiting police car in the lane.

3

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Lady Hardcastle as we enjoyed breakfast together in the morning room. ‘What we really need is a telephone.’

‘We do?’ I said, picking up another crumpet.

‘We do,’ she said. ‘Think how much more quickly the inspector could have contacted us yesterday if we had a telephone. And think how easy it would be to ask him questions and give our reports.’

‘True, my lady,’ I said. ‘But it was lovely to see him in person again.’

‘Oh, telephones won’t stop people paying calls on each other,’ she said dismissively. ‘But think of the convenience, the immediacy, the . . .’

‘The bills, my lady? And the intrusion?’

‘Oh, Flo, you are a fuddy-duddy. No, I have made up my mind. We shall have a telephone. I shall write to . . . to . . . Actually, to whom does one write?’

‘They have a telephone at The Grange, my lady. Sir Hector will know.’

‘Sir Hector is the sweetest old buffer ever to wear a hat,’ she said. ‘But we both know he won’t know anything of the sort. Gertie’s the girl to go to for information about the household. I shall ask her. Perhaps we could pop up there this morning to see how she is.’

‘I think we should, my lady,’ I said. ‘Should we take her a gift?’

‘How very thoughtful. What have we got?’

I thought for a while. ‘I made a cake this morning,’ I suggested.

‘We’d offend Mrs Brown,’ she said. ‘Now there’s a cook I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of.’

‘Some brandy?’

‘She is partial to a little brandy.’

‘A little?’ I said.

‘Do we have any to spare?’

‘An unopened bottle, my lady? Actually, I don’t think so. The vintner’s order is due at the end of the week.’ I sat for a moment in contemplation. ‘Oh, I know. A caricature. She loves your drawings. We must have an old frame somewhere that we can use.’

‘What a splendid idea,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘At the cattle market, I think. Give her an uplifting image of the place so she’s not always dwelling on poor Mr Caradine. I’ll decamp to the dining room and get sketching. You find the frame.’

‘Right you are, my lady,’ I said as I gathered up the breakfast things.

She worked fast, and by eleven o’clock we had a framed pen-and-ink sketch of Lady Farley-Stroud surrounded by cows. She signed the picture and titled it ‘Cattle Market’.

‘There,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘That should put a smile back on the old girl’s face. I’m rather pleased with that.’

‘And rightly so, my lady,’ I said. ‘You have a rare gift.’

‘Then let’s get our hats and coats and take a stroll up to The Grange where we can give the gift created by my gift to—’

Thankfully, the doorbell rang before she could get too far with that particular out-of-control thought.

It was Constable Hancock from the village police station.

‘Mornin’, Miss Armstrong,’ he said, touching the peak of his police helmet with a fingertip. ‘Is Lady Hardcastle at home?’

‘She is, Constable, she is. Do come in. She’s in the dining room.’

‘Oh, I hope I haven’t interrupted her lunch,’ he said.

‘Not at all, she was sketching. Come through.’

I led him to the dining room.

‘Constable Hancock is here, my lady,’ I said as I ushered him in.

‘My dear Constable,’ she said as she put her pens and pencils into the lacquered box on the table. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure? Would you care for some tea?’

‘Never been known to refuse the offer of tea, my lady,’ he said with a smile. ‘That would be most welcome.’

‘Do the honours, would you, Flo,’ she said, and I took myself off to the kitchen.

By the time I returned with the tray, Lady Hardcastle was leafing through the contents of an official-looking manila folder.

‘Admirable diligence from the city detectives, Constable, but it doesn’t appear they were able to discover much,’ she said as I set the tray down on the table.

‘No, m’lady,’ said Hancock. ‘I took a look at the reports and I reckon they must have asked everyone as was there that lunchtime. Don’t look like no one saw a thing.’

‘Any report from the police surgeon?’

‘Not yet, m’lady, but that’ll go to Bristol CID with a copy to the station at Chipping. We’ll not see it ’less we asks. And even then I don’t reckon as they’d let us. Not much love lost ’tween us and the boys in the town. Sergeant Dobson reckons they’s a bunch of idiots, and I can’t say as I disagrees with him. And they thinks we’re nobodies ’cause we’re based over here in the village, like it makes us second-class coppers or somethin’.’