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

‘Good heavens.’

‘Most people go their whole lives without knowing of a single murder, and yet you’ve already seen two in a week.’

‘I’d known more than my fair share before I even arrived. Perhaps it’s me.’

‘Yes, of course, my lady, there was your husband. I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive.’

She waved a friendly dismissal. ‘Please don’t worry, Inspector. It was a long time ago now.’

He nodded and continued. ‘But no, it’s not you, it’s what they call a statistical anomaly and it’s centred on Chipping Bevington.’

‘I see.’

‘And so I’m often out this way. I’m sure we shall see a lot of each other as the years go by.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said, raising her glass. ‘Oh, I say. I’ve just made a toast to the continuation of murder and mayhem. I’m so terribly sorry.’

‘No amount of toasting will change the facts, my lady. Don’t worry. But you can do something for me, if you will.’

‘Anything, Inspector. Name it.’

‘The next time you feel compelled to get involved in a case – to start meddling and interfering and generally making a nuisance of yourself – please don’t spin any yarns about writing detective stories. Please promise simply to call me, wire me, or even send a trusty carrier pigeon my way and I’ll be glad of any help you can offer.’

‘Righto, Inspector,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

‘That’s agreed, then. And for my part I promise not to send burly constables to your home when you’d probably rather be resting in bed nursing a hangover.’

‘It was a rather nasty one.’

‘I hoped it might be.’

I was beginning to warm to this Inspector Sunderland.

‘Do you really think any of the emerald folk killed Holloway?’ I asked once the meal was ended.

‘Not the band, certainly,’ said the inspector. ‘As far as I can make out, they’re all very fond of each other. If one of them had killed Holloway, accidentally or not, that person would be a great deal more distressed than any of them appears to be. They’re all saddened by the loss of their friend, but no one is showing any of the signs one might expect from someone who had killed that friend. Summers, on the other hand . . . He’s a peculiar one, that’s for sure. We have only his word for it that his only offence was to take the emerald.’

‘If only we could work out the exact sequence of events,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘That would help, surely.’

‘It would be of immeasurable assistance,’ he said. ‘But almost everyone has mentioned the dearth of clocks here at The Grange. I’ve been quite unable to pin anyone down to an actual time for anything.’

‘It’s Lady Farley-Stroud’s doing,’ I said. ‘Sir Hector said she has a phobia of clocks.’

‘Chronomentrophobia,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s quite rare.’

Inspector Sunderland and I just looked at her.

‘What?’ she said.

I shook my head. ‘And with all the music and dancing, no one has much of a memory for anything at all,’ I added.

‘Of course!’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘What an absolute cod’s head I’ve been. Excuse me for a moment, won’t you. I shan’t be long.’ And with that, she upped and went, leaving the inspector and me looking at each other with amused bewilderment.

‘What do you think she’s up to?’ asked the inspector.

‘Blowed if I know,’ I said. ‘She’s a woman driven by whim and caprice. But usually also by perspicacity and insight, so I generally tend to let her get on with it.’

‘All in all, miss, I’d say from my brief experience of her that that’s probably wise. Have you worked for her long?’

‘About fourteen years now,’ I said.

‘And is it a life that suits you?’

‘Very much so, Inspector, yes.’

‘My sister is in service,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure if I could do it. I like being my own man.’

‘Sadly, I’m not in a position to be my own “man”,’ I said. ‘But you still have to answer to your superiors; you still have to do someone else’s bidding from day to day.’

‘True enough, miss. Though I do have a certain amount of freedom to conduct myself as I please in the execution of my duties. A certain amount of autonomy, you might say.’

‘As do I, Inspector. More, perhaps, than most servants. Ours is a . . . I hesitate to say “unique” working relationship, but it’s certainly unusual. We have shared adventures over the years which most could scarcely imagine. It broke down some of the traditional barriers between an employer and a servant.’

‘I’ve noticed the way you speak to each other,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘It’s rather refreshing, to tell the truth.’

‘It causes quite a few raised eyebrows and more than a little disapproving tutting, but we carry on regardless.’

‘Well, you seem happy in your work and there’s not many as can say that in this day and age,’ he said. ‘When this case is wrapped up I should like to treat you both to a drink or two and hear the stories of your adventures.’

‘That would be delightful, Inspector, thank you. Perhaps Mrs Sunderland would like to come, too?’

‘Actually, miss, I rather think she would. I think she’d like you.’

‘Then I shall put you in the mistress’s appointments book and we shall sup together as friends one evening.’

‘I shall look forward to it.’

We chattered on for some little while. The inspector was just beginning to tell me a little about his own family when Lady Hardcastle returned, clutching a slightly crumpled sheet of paper.

‘I expect you’re wondering,’ she said with evident glee, ‘why I’ve asked you all here.’

We looked at her mutely.

‘Oh, come along,’ she said. ‘I’ve always wanted to say that. Isn’t that what they say in the detective stories?’

‘Usually when the mystery is solved, my lady,’ I said.

‘Oh. Well, I don’t suppose we shall be around at that moment, so this moment shall have to do.’

‘You have fresh information?’ asked the inspector.

‘I do indeed,’ she said, brandishing the paper. ‘We’ve been lamenting the absence of clocks and the fact that we have no idea about the timing of events, haven’t we? It suddenly struck me just now that there was one person in particular that we hadn’t yet spoken to. I wondered if that person might have been paying a great deal more attention to who was at her party and where they were during the evening. I spoke to young Clarissa. It seems that she does indeed have a very clear recollection of the events of the evening.’

‘She seemed a bit vague when I spoke to her on Sunday morning,’ said the inspector. ‘I couldn’t see that she had anything particularly helpful to add.’

‘Oh, she’s one of those fortunate creatures whose heads will never be troubled by the arrival of anything so inconvenient as a structured, logical, or even original thought. Nevertheless, she’s a charmingly social girl. She loves a party and she is absolutely devoted to her friends whose happiness is of paramount importance to her. She knows exactly how things played out, and it doesn’t look well for Captain Summers. Would you give me a hand to turn this blackboard round,’ she said, indicating her temporary crime board.

The inspector stood and manfully turned the easel round, revealing a blank surface upon which Lady Hardcastle immediately began sketching a plan of the ground floor of The Grange. When she was done, she pinned the piece of rumpled paper in the top corner of the board and turned back to us with a smile.

‘There we are,’ she said. ‘That’s the ground floor of the house, and that piece of paper was recovered from the stage. It’s a running order, or “set list” as I believe the musicians call it. Clarissa had kept it as a souvenir of the evening.’