T Kinsey - A Quiet Life in the Country (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery Book 1)

‘Sorry, Constable, let me just check. Lovell was engaged to Daisy. Pickering walked out with Daisy. Lovell found out and threatened violence?’

‘In a nutshell, m’lady. So the inspector has arrested Bill Lovell for murder and he’s holding him in a cell down in Bristol.’

‘Gracious me. Did he speak to anyone else?’

‘No, m’lady, he didn’t need to. Clear case of jealous murder, he says, and lays him by the heels. Another victory for justice if you asks me, so there’s no need for you to be worrying yourself.’

‘Thank you, Constable, that was very thoughtful. What do you know of these two chaps? Our victim, Mr Pickering, for instance. Who was he? What did he do? Who were his friends? Where did he work?’

‘I can’t say I knows much about his private life, m’lady, ’cept to say he was a fine and well-liked fellow. Calm and quiet for the most part, jovial company and a demon on the cricket pitch. Finest pace bowler the village has ever known, by all accounts.’

Lady Hardcastle and I exchanged confused glances.

‘Sorry, m’lady, I forgets not everyone enjoys their cricket. He could bowl the ball very fast. Very useful for taking wickets.’

‘Thank you, Constable. Roddy – Sir Roderick, my late husband – used to talk about cricket all the time and I tried so hard to be interested. The game lacked excitement for me though, I’m afraid, and I never really picked up the argot.’ She paused in wistful contemplation as she often did when something reminded her of her husband. And then, just as suddenly, she came back to herself. ‘I’m so sorry, do carry on.’

‘Yes, m’lady. I made some enquiries, spoke to a few people and it seems there weren’t nothing remarkable about him apart from that. He grew up at Woodworthy, about three miles east of here, and when he left school he got hisself a job with a big shipping agents at Bristol: Seddon, Seddon and Seddon. He moved on down to the city and found hisself cheap diggings nearby the office. He worked hard. Damn good at his job, they say, and he done very well for hisself. But he was homesick, see, so when he got his latest promotion last year to chief clerk, he come back out to Woodworthy to be with his friends and family, like. Like I said t’other day, he rode his bicycle into Chipping Bevington every morning and caught the train into the city.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘We met James and Ida Seddon earlier. Are they the same Seddons?’

‘That’s them, m’lady. Their son’s marryin’ Miss Clarissa from up The Grange.’

‘I had no idea they already had links with the area.’

‘Quite strong uns. They lives over near Chipping Bevington.’

‘Do they, by Jove? Well, I never,’ she said. ‘And what about the chap who’s been arrested—’

‘Bill Lovell, m’lady.’

‘Yes, Lovell. What sort of chap is he?’

‘Nice lad, I always thought. Boisterous, you know, like lads are, not afraid of a bit of a punch-up on the green to settle an argument—’

‘But not the sort to hang someone from a tree?’ she asked.

‘I would never have said so, m’lady, but it just goes to show that you can never tell what murderous impulses might lurk in the minds of the young these days.’

I smiled to myself at this; the constable looked no older than five-and-twenty years himself.

‘I see. Well, thank you very much, Constable. It’s certainly reassuring to know that we no longer have a murderer lurking in our midst.’

‘My pleasure, m’lady. As I said, reassurance was most definitely the purpose of my visit. I shall bid you good day. I’m sure you have plenty to be getting on with, what with bein’ in a new house and all.’

‘And good day to you, too, Constable. Armstrong will show you out.’

I took the smiling constable to the door and wished him well, thanking him again for his thoughtfulness in coming to let us know.

I returned to the dining room yet again.

‘What did you make of that, dear?’ asked Lady Hardcastle, as I sat back at the table and finally poured a cup of tea for myself.

‘As you said yourself, it’s nice to know that there’s no longer a murderer in the village.’

‘But . . .’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘Did it all seem entirely satisfactory to you? Would your mind leap instantly from a bit of snarling and yapping in the pub over a girl to a murder in the woods?’

‘When you put it like that,’ I said, ‘I don’t suppose it would. It’s a clear enough motive, though, don’t you think?’

‘People have been murdered for far less, certainly. But . . . I don’t know . . . it’s as though this Inspector Whatshisname—’

‘Sunderland, my lady.’

‘As though this Inspector Sunderland just arrested the first person with a motive so that he could return to whatever more important matter was waiting for him back in the city. It just doesn’t seem altogether right.’

‘It’s not really our concern, though, is it? We’ve given our statements and now it’s time for the wheels of justice to do whatever it is they do.’

‘They turn slowly but they grind exceedingly fine is what they do,’ she said. ‘And that’s rather apt. The quality of the flour is still entirely dependent upon the quality of the corn, no matter how thorough the mill. If the courts don’t have all the facts, they can never grind out justice.’

‘It’s out of our hands now, though, my lady.’

‘Is it? Is it, though? I wonder if we might not gain some entertainment – and possibly save a young man from the gallows – if we took matters back into our hands and poked our noses in them.’

‘Other than it being a faintly disgusting image,’ I said, ‘I do tend to agree. I suppose it might be fun, too. I just worry that it might make us rather unpopular with the police if we start our own investigation.’

‘They’ll be happy if we manage to solve the case for them.’

‘But, as far as they’re concerned, they’ve already solved it.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But the more I think about it, the less convinced I am that they really have. Oh, oh, we can be detectives. You can be Watson to my Holmes.’

‘But without the violin and the dangerous drug addiction, my lady,’ I said.

‘As soon as the piano arrives from London that will make an admirable substitute for the violin. And I’m sure we could both have a tot of brandy from time to time to grease the old wheels.’

‘The slow-grinding ones?’

‘No, ours shall be lightning fast.’

‘Steam powered?’

‘Brandy powered, at least. But we can’t leave poor Whatshisname in gaol—’

‘Lovell, my lady.’

‘Lovell, yes. If he’s not the guilty man, we must find out who is and set him free. It’s our duty.’

‘Very well, my lady,’ I said. ‘But we’re going to need another pot of tea.’

I returned to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea. Edna had finished her work for the day and Miss Jones had put a stew on the range for our dinner, so I said they could both go. They were delighted and I hoped this small gesture might make them warm to me a little.

Edna hung back while Miss Jones was fetching their coats.

‘Was that young Sam Hancock who come callin’?’ she asked.

‘Constable Hancock? Yes. Do you know him?’

‘I knows his mother. Lovely lad, he always was. Was he here about the murder up Combe Woods? It was you who found him, wasn’t it? Young Frank Pickering?’

I smiled. ‘You knew him as well?’

‘I knows his mother. She’s from over Woodworthy. She used to walk out with our Dan’s brother till she met her Nathan.’

‘I see,’ I said, trying not to let my smile get out of control.

‘Terrible business about Frank, though. We was in the Dog and Duck that night, me and our Dan. Just a quiet drink, mind. All they cricket lads was in there larkin’ about. I said to our Dan as how young Frank had better watch out for hisself. Looked like he was spoilin’ for a fight, mind. First he has a row with Bill Lovell, then he goes and has another row with Arthur Tressle—’