Ти Кинси - Christmas at The Grange - A Lady Hardcastle Mystery (Kindle Single)

‘Mornin’, Miss Armstrong,’ they chorused.

I mumbled something that was intended as a friendly greeting but which could have been interpreted as anything at all.

‘Overindulged a bit, did you?’ said Edna.

‘Of course I did. Why didn’t you?’ I said.

‘Oh, I did, my lover,’ she said. ‘But I gots the constitution of a horse, me. I can drink all night and be right as ninepence in the mornin’.’

‘You lucky thing,’ I said. ‘How about you, Miss Jones?’

‘I were performin’, weren’t I?’ she said. ‘Gots to stay sober when you’s on the stage.’

I could name more than half a dozen music-hall performers I’d seen doing their acts while thoroughly bung-eyed, and at least one well-known Shakespearian actor who was so drunk he had to be helped off stage by one of his fellow thespians. But I decided not to contradict her.

‘How are we off for coffee?’ I said instead.

‘Fresh pot brewin’ now,’ she said. ‘I put some eggs and bacon on when I heard you stirrin’.’

‘You’re a marvel, Miss Jones,’ I said. ‘We’ve missed you terribly. I trust you both had a splendid Christmas?’

‘Very nice indeed, thank you,’ said Edna.

‘Lovely,’ said Miss Jones. ‘Our ma’s sister – my Auntie Elsie – come over from Woodworthy. She’s such a card. We had a right old time.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ I said.

‘How was it up at the big house with the nobs?’ asked Edna.

‘I’m happy to report that we had a right old time, too,’ I said. ‘Lots of food, good company, and a mystery thrown in.’

‘Oh-ah,’ said Edna. ‘I heard about that. Bit of a busman’s holiday for you, then.’

‘Well, quite. But always fun.’

‘Here you goes,’ said Miss Jones. ‘Eggs, bacon and toast for two.’

‘Let me put that on a tray for you,’ said Edna. ‘And you can take it up to Herself.’

The bedroom door was ajar and Lady Hardcastle was sitting up in bed by the time I arrived with the fully laden tray.

‘Oh, goodie,’ she said. ‘Eggs and bacon. I’m absolutely starving.’

I set it down and sat in my usual spot at the edge of the bed.

‘How’s your head?’ I asked.

‘Absolutely fine, dear, thank you. Still a bit woolly, but nothing that this grub won’t cure. How about you?’

‘Much the same – no real ill effects at all. We should drink champagne all the time.’

‘I remember a timid seventeen-year-old girl who’d never so much as touched a drop of beer, let alone champagne. And now look at you.’

‘You’ve led me astray,’ I said. ‘You and your fancy, society ways.’

‘I’m a corrupting influence and no mistake.’

‘You’re an absolute shocker.’

‘I am. I have, though, solved our conundrum. Or at least I think I have.’

‘Well done,’ I said. ‘A good night’s sleep worked its magic, then?’

‘As predicted. We’ve not been at this sleuthing lark for long, so we don’t have much data to go on, but did you not notice something terribly unusual about this case?’

‘Not really,’ I said.

‘What about the clues?’

‘They all point to the one man?’ I suggested.

‘Well, there is that. But what about the quantity and clarity of the clues?’

I sat and thought for a moment. She was right. There was something terribly unusual about the clues.

‘Oh . . .’ I said as it finally dawned on me. ‘You mean . . . ?’

‘I do. And I’ve an idea what we can do about it. Let’s finish this delicious spread, then we can get me dressed, make a telephone call and get ourselves up to The Grange.’

We spent the rest of breakfast discussing the details of her plan and wondering how we could have been so dense.

I left Lady Hardcastle to her own devices while I went downstairs to make the necessary telephone call. By the time I returned there was a little bit of lacing and buttoning to take care of, as well as brushing and pinning her hair. We went downstairs to find something to occupy ourselves until it was time to go.

* * *

We split up when we arrived at The Grange. Lady Hardcastle and our newly recruited accomplice went to ring the front doorbell while I slipped around the side of the house and down the steps to the servants’ area.

Dora Kendrick, the housemaid, let me in. She didn’t seem especially pleased to see me, but then she never was. I said hello to Mr Jenkins, who actually was pleased to see me, and got his permission to seek out my friend Maude.

I knocked on her door.

‘Yes?’ came the familiarly imperious voice.

‘It’s me, Maude. It’s Flo. Let me in.’

The key rattled in the lock and the door opened at once.

‘Hello, old pal,’ she said. ‘Fancy seeing you down here with the common folk. Cup of tea?’

‘No, thank you,’ I said. ‘No time. I need a favour.’

‘Something wicked?’

‘Always. I need directions to Julius Goodheart’s bedroom.’

She adopted a look of exaggerated shock. ‘Florence Armstrong!’ she said. ‘I never thought you were that kind of girl. I expect that sort of thing from Dora. But you . . . ? Well . . .’

‘Stop beggaring about and tell me where he sleeps,’ I said. ‘I haven’t got much time.’

Still chuckling at her own antics, she told me what I needed to know and I set off at full pelt.

Once upstairs, I adopted a more stealthy and circumspect approach. I didn’t want to have to spend ages explaining myself to servants or guests if I were seen charging about on the first floor of someone else’s house.

I found Mr Goodheart’s door and pressed my ear to it. I could hear no sounds of life, so I tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

Inside, things were much as Lady Hardcastle had predicted they would be. I cast around and quickly found the pearl pendant, sitting alone on the bedside table. I took it up and placed it in the pocket of my uniform. Leaving the room almost exactly as I had found it, save for the missing jewellery, I made my way to the stairs to await my cue.

As we had planned, the family and their houseguests were beginning to assemble in the hall. I heard the voices of a few of the servants, too. There was an expectant murmur, as though at the beginning of a play. Mr Goodheart and Sir Edward were the last to arrive.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ began Lady Hardcastle. ‘I expect you’re wondering why I’ve called you all here. Do you know, I never get tired of saying that. It always makes one sound like a proper detective. I’m sorry, where was I? Oh, yes. It seems that there has been a dastardly robbery. On Christmas morning, Gertie enjoined me and my trusty right hand, Miss Florence Armstrong, to solve a puzzle. A precious jewel had gone missing, she said. We couldn’t involve the police, we were told, because the scandal would hamper the career of a promising young banker. But I’m sorry to have to say that what we have uncovered has so shocked and horrified us that we have had to involve the police. Gertie and Hector already know Inspector Sunderland from the Bristol CID.’

There was a gasp from the assembled onlookers, followed by some urgent muttering.

‘We followed the clues wherever they led us, but we needed one last piece before we could declare the puzzle solved. Armstrong, are you there?’

That was my cue. I began walking down the stairs.

‘Yes, my lady,’ I said.

‘Was it there?’

‘Everything was exactly as we predicted,’ I said, and produced the pearl pendant from my pocket. I held it aloft as I completed my journey and stood by her side.

‘Inspector?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s in your hands now.’

‘Julius Goodheart,’ said Inspector Sunderland solemnly, ‘I am arresting you in the King’s name on suspicion that on the night of Christmas Eve you did steal into the bedroom of the sleeping Mrs Beaufort and purloin her pearl pendant. I shall also be questioning you in connection with a series of similar burglaries that have taken place in London over the past six months. Anything you say may be taken down in writing and may be used against you at your trial.’