03 - Murder at Sedgwick Court (24 page)

Inspector
Bramwell had sat up in his chair, and Sergeant Lane had looked up from his
notebook. Aware of the interest his words had caused, Theo’s cheeks turned
crimson.

‘Yes. I am.
I broke off my engagement with Miss Brewster last night.’

‘And how
did Miss Brewster take such news? I daresay it came as a bit of a shock, didn’t
it?’

‘I’m
afraid, I don’t know, Inspector.’

‘What do
you mean you don’t know?’ The inspector looked at him incredulously.

‘Exactly
that, Inspector. I told Miss Brewster I wished to break off our engagement and
I left the room.’

Theo
glared at the inspector, his cheeks going redder still.

It
occurred to Inspector Bramwell that the young man’s complexion had changed a
great deal during the course of their interview, when compared with the sickly
pallor of his skin on entering the room.

‘You
needn’t look at me like that, Inspector. I freely admit I was a coward. A
better man than me would have stayed and endured Miss Brewster’s tears and
recriminations, but I’m afraid I didn’t. I’d made up my mind, you see, and I
wanted out of it.’ He glanced at the carpet. ‘And anyway, I thought it would be
best for Vera. I thought she’d prefer it. To be left there alone to take it all
in.’

The inspector’s
only comment was to snort.

‘You
didn’t think it might have been better to speak to her in the morning instead
of last thing at night?’

‘No. I
wanted to do it there and then. I’ve told you. I wanted to get it over and done
with. I thought it would be better that way, for Miss Brewster as well as for me.
I thought she’d have the whole night to come to terms with it, and that when
she came down to breakfast in the morning she would be composed and not too
upset.’ 

The inspector
thought of Vera left alone in the library waiting for everyone else to go up to
bed so that she might creep upstairs without her tear-stained face being
observed. He imagined her lying in her bed, pulling the bedclothes up to her
neck, feeling absolutely miserable and dejected. That she had endured a
sleepless night he did not doubt for one moment. He stared at the man before
him who had caused her such anguish.

‘What did
you do then, Dr Harrison?’

‘I went
up to bed.’

‘You
didn’t try and communicate with Miss Montacute to tell her that you had broken
off your engagement to Miss Brewster?’

‘Of
course not, Inspector, it was terribly late.’

‘But not
too late to break off your engagement to Miss Brewster?’

‘I’ve
already told you my reasons for speaking with Miss Brewster when I did,’ Theo
said coldly.

‘When did
you speak with Miss Montacute?’

‘I
didn’t, Inspector. I had decided to speak with her straight after breakfast
this morning. I was going to tell her I had broken off my engagement to Miss
Brewster.’ Theo took a deep breath as if he were trying to stifle a sob. ‘If
you must know, I was going to ask Miss Montacute to marry me.’

‘Were you
indeed?’

‘Yes, I
was.’ Theo began to sob. ‘She’ll never know now, will she? She will never know
that I had broken off my engagement to Vera and was going to ask her to marry
me. She’ll never know …’

‘Forgive
me, Dr Harrison. But are you quite sure that you didn’t arrange to meet with
Miss Montacute before breakfast? In the maze for instance?’

‘Certainly
not! Why should I have arranged to meet Emmeline in there of all places? There
are far better places to meet for a romantic assignation if that’s what you’re
getting at. The grounds are full of follies for goodness sake.’

‘And yet
Miss Montacute was found dead in the maze,’ the inspector said, quietly. ‘Shall
I tell you what I think? I think someone did arrange to meet Miss Montacute in
the maze. I think that’s why she was there. And do you know what else I think, doctor?’

‘No.’

Theo
spoke the word hardly above a whisper and seemed to hold his breath.

‘I think
that person was you.’

‘What
utter nonsense!’

Theo had
risen so violently from his seat that his chair threatened to topple over. ‘How
dare you suggest such a thing? I loved Miss Montacute, Inspector. I loved her.
If you’re suggesting I had any hand in her murder, why I’ll – ’

 ‘Sit
down, Dr Harrison. Before you get on to your high horse, there’s something I’d
like to show you.’

‘Oh?’

Theo sat
down again, taken aback by the inspector’s manner, but equally interested in
what he was about to say.

Inspector
Bramwell proceeded to pick up an envelope from the desk, the same one Charlie,
the footman, had brought into him earlier. He withdrew from it a torn off scrap
of paper, and passed it to the doctor.

‘Perhaps
you’d like to read this out to us, if you will, Dr Harrison.’

Theo held
the scrap of paper between his hands. It had obviously been much folded, the
consequence of which was to make the words written on it difficult to read. To
make matters worse, the ink had been smudged in places, as if the writer had
been in a great hurry and had not had the foresight to use a blotter, or
alternatively had been too impatient to wait for the ink to quite dry. 

Theo held
up the paper to his eyes and read each word one at a time, in a disjointed
fashion.   

‘“Meet me
in the middle of the maze at a quarter to six tomorrow morning … I enclose a
copy of the plan with this note ... Go out by way of the French windows in the
study. They are bolted but not locked … Don’t be late … I have something of the
utmost importance to tell you.”’

‘Would
you be so good as to read out the initials at the bottom of that note?’

‘“T … E …
H.”
Oh my God! No!’

‘They are
your initials are they not, Doctor?’

‘Yes … No
… Yes. You know full well they are. But I didn’t write this note. I tell you I
didn’t write it!’

‘And yet
they are your initials, are they not, Doctor?
I don’t think anyone else
in this house has the same initials.’

‘Where
did you find it?’ demanded Theo.

‘Folded
up inside Miss Montacute’s glove. She evidently tucked it inside her glove
before she set off for the maze. There was no sign of the plan though.’

‘I didn’t
write that note I tell you.’ Theo’s face contorted suddenly with a look of
pain. ‘I didn’t write it, but Emmeline would have thought I had, wouldn’t she?
That’s why she went there, isn’t it? She thought she was going to meet me!’ He
held his head in his hands. ‘Oh my God, oh my God …’

‘Look at
the note again, Dr Harrison. If you didn’t write it, do you know who did? Do
you recognise the handwriting?’

Theo held
the note up to his eyes again. This time the policeman saw him give an
involuntary start.

‘No … no,
I don’t, Inspector.’

‘Are you
quite certain? You reacted just now as if you had.’

‘I don’t
recognise it.’ The doctor fixed the policeman with a cold stare. ‘I think I’ve
answered enough of your questions, don’t you? I should like to go now, if you
please.’

‘Well,
what do you think, sir?’ Sergeant Lane asked, as soon as Theo had left the room
slamming the door shut behind him. ‘Do you think he recognised the
handwriting?’

‘Oh, he
recognised it all right!’ snorted the inspector. ‘Because it was his own!’

‘You
don’t think it possible that he recognised it as someone else’s? ‘

‘No, I don’t,
Sergeant. I think the man’s been lying to us from the moment he sat down in
that chair there. Look how he tried to deny that he’d had a relationship with
the deceased. Only admitted it when we said the others had told us about it.’

‘You could
be right, sir.’

‘Like as
not he’s pretending to us that he’s recognised the handwriting as being someone
else’s to try and throw us off the scent,’ said Inspector Bramwell, rising from
his creaking chair to stretch his legs. ‘It must have come as an awful shock to
him to discover that we’d found that note. He didn’t expect us to. Probably
thought the girl had had the good sense to throw it on to the fire before she
set off for the maze. I’ve no doubt it gave him quite a turn having it handed
to him like that.’

‘You
don’t like the fellow very much, do you, sir?’ enquired Sergeant Lane rather
boldly.

‘No I
don’t. Men like that think a lot of themselves. He’s rather a handsome fellow,
I grant you. But he’s a big fish in a small pond and he has ambitions to be a
big fish in a large pond. From what we’ve been told, he treated Miss Brewster
very shabbily, very shabbily indeed.’

‘He’s
something of a coward too, isn’t he, sir? Fancy just leaving poor Miss Brewster
in the library without making sure she was all right.’

‘Aye,
he’s a selfish fellow all right,’ agreed the inspector. ‘Only thinks of himself
I should imagine. And, did you see how he was all up and down like a yo-yo? One
moment he could barely bring himself to speak, and the next he was jumping up
from his chair threatening to knock it over and shout the place down.’

‘He seems
to me to have gone all to pieces over Miss Montacute’s death though, sir,’ Sergeant
Lane said. ‘Must have thought a lot of her. Do you think he’d be so upset if he
had killed her?’

‘It
strikes me that he is just the sort of a fellow who’d work himself up into a
temper and hit a woman, and then regret it afterwards. Do you know what I think
happened, Sergeant?’

‘What,
sir?’

‘I think
it’s just as he says, up to a point. He breaks off his engagement with Miss
Brewster in just the manner he says, and then goes upstairs. He wants to go and
tell Miss Montacute what he’s done, but it’s late and he can’t do so without
the possibility of ruining her reputation. But he doesn’t want to have to wait
until breakfast. So he scribbles that note to her and pushes it under her door.
He probably taps on her door at the same time to make sure she sees it.’

‘But I
don’t understand why he should want to kill her, sir.’

‘Don’t
you, Sergeant? I think he lost his temper. Just as he did in here, jumping up
and down. I think they met up in the maze as planned – ’

‘But why
the maze, sir,’ interrupted Sergeant Lane. ‘Why not meet up in one of the
follies as the doctor himself pointed out?’

‘Because
of that romantic story Lord Belvedere and Lady Lavinia told about that
unfortunate maid who got herself lost in the maze waiting for her young man to
appear. Dr Harrison had probably heard that story a number of times before, and
we’ve been told that Emmeline Montacute was quite taken with the idea of the
maze game. There was little fear that they’d get lost. He had provided Miss
Montacute with a plan of the maze and the doctor himself by his own admission
knew his way through it.’

‘So what do
you think happened?’

‘I think
our doctor told Miss Montacute that he’d broken off his engagement with Miss
Brewster and, being the impetuous sort of fellow he appears to be, probably
went down on one knee and proposed marriage. He as good as told us that’s what
he was going to do this morning.’

‘Yes, he
did. But what happened?’

‘I think
she took fright, and turned down his proposal. Or possibly she did something
much worse from his point of view …’

‘What
could have been worse than that from his perspective?’

‘Remember
I said he was a proud fellow who thought a lot of himself? I think she may have
laughed at him. I imagine she told him she considered their relationship little
more than a dalliance, a mild flirtation if you will, entered into for her own
amusement. She probably reminded him who she was. An heiress and a beautiful one
at that, with her choice of far more eligible suitors than a country doctor.’

‘And you
think he flew into a fit of temper because of it and killed her?’ asked Sergeant
Lane, sounding rather sceptical.

‘I certainly
think it a possibility. And I think he’s regretted it ever since.’

‘You may
be right of course, sir. But there’s something that’s worrying me.’

‘And
what’s that, Sergeant?’

‘How does
the candlestick fit into your story?’

‘A very
good point, Lane,’ sighed the inspector, going back to his chair and sitting
down. ‘That damned candlestick. How the devil does it fit in? For the life of
me I can’t imagine why anyone should take such an object with them into the
maze.’

‘Theo!’

Vera was
upon the doctor as soon as he came into the drawing room.

‘Vera, not
now. Leave me alone, damn you!’

Theo took
hold of the woman by the arm and pushed her out of his way with such force that
she knocked into an occasional table, which toppled and fell over bringing its
contents of a lead crystal vase and a silver-framed photograph down with it.
Miraculously the glass in both ornaments did not shatter. But it had been enough
of a spectacle to cause all those present to look on with a morbid fascination.

‘Harrison!’

Cedric
grasped the man roughly by the arm and frogmarched him to the other end of the
room. Rose meanwhile went over to Vera who, although shaken, appeared unhurt.

‘You must
let him be, Vera. Can’t you see how upset he is? You’re only making matters
worse.’

‘I just
want to help him. To let him know that I’m here for him.’

‘Why? Don’t
you realise, Vera? He doesn’t want you to be there for him.’

Vera
shrank back from her as if she had been hit. Her bottom lip trembled and she
looked pale and drawn.

‘When I
say he doesn’t want you to be there for him, I mean now. I daresay he’ll need you
later,’ Rose said more kindly. ‘But please, Vera, see sense. You must give him
time.’

It was
all Rose could do to keep herself from telling the woman exactly what she
thought. In her own opinion Theo had behaved very badly towards Vera and the
woman could do much better for herself than settle for a man who had treated
her so shabbily. Theo did not deserve Vera’s loyalty or devotion. It incensed
her that he should know that Vera was eager to take him back and pretend that what
had happened between him and Emmeline was no more than a figment of her own
vivid imagination.  It was on the tip of her tongue to say something to this
effect. But looking at Vera now, nodding feebly and looking as if she were
about to fall apart, Rose knew it would do no good. Vera would never listen to
reason where Theo was concerned.

‘I only
wanted to speak to him.  He was in with the policemen for such a long time,
wasn’t he? He was in there for much longer than Felix or the count. Why do you
think that was, Rose? Do you think they suspect him? Do you think they think he
murdered Emmeline?’

‘I don’t
know, Vera. We’ll just have to wait and see. But it won’t do any good worrying
about it.’

‘Do you
think they’ll want to interview me next?’

Vera
sounded frightened. She clutched Rose’s hand and held it so tightly that it
hurt.

‘I’m
scared, Rose. I’m ever so scared. I don’t want to be interviewed. I don’t want
them to ask me questions about Theo and Emmeline. I won’t be able to bear it. I
tell you I won’t be able to bear it!’

‘Ssh,
Vera,’ Rose said hurriedly, conscious that the woman’s voice had risen and that
the constable stationed in the corner of the room was eyeing them somewhat
suspiciously. ‘Don’t make a scene. Not now. There’s nothing to worry about.
It’s just routine. The police are interviewing all of us.’

‘Will you
come in with me, Rose? Please. I don’t want to go in there alone. And you know
all about being interviewed and murder investigations, don’t you?’ She pulled
at Rose’s sleeve so that the girl was obliged to bend her head down so Vera
could whisper in her ear. ‘I’ve done something very wicked, Rose. Frightfully
wicked. And I’m frightened to tell them about it. Will you come in there with
me when they interview me? I want to tell them everything. But I need you to
come in with me, otherwise I’ll never have the courage to do so. Will you? Say
you will?’

‘If they
allow me to, yes, of course,’ Rose said, wondering what Vera had to tell them and
whether it would further her own investigations.

‘Thank
you.’ Vera stood up tall, with her shoulders back. She stared fixedly at the
door, a grave and determined look upon her face. ‘I feel much braver now. Now
that I know you’ll be coming with me. I want to tell them all about it. It will
be such a relief.’

Rose
followed Vera’s gaze to the door and it seemed to her that together they had
willed the door to open. For at that very moment they saw the door handle move,
followed by Sergeant Lane entering the room. He scoured those present, his eye
settling on Vera, standing there clutching Rose’s hand.

‘The inspector
would like to speak to you next, Miss Brewster. If you’d care to come this way
please, miss.’

‘I want
Miss Simpson to come in with me, Sergeant,’ Vera said in a surprisingly firm
voice.

‘Well, I
don’t know, miss, whether the inspector will …’

The
policeman’s sentence faltered, for Vera had already walked purposefully over to
the door and disappeared into the hall beyond, Rose following in her wake, much
as Jemima had done in Emmeline’s.

‘Ah, Miss
Brewster, do come in,’ said Inspector Bramwell, smiling reassuringly at Vera.
He caught sight of Rose and the smile vanished from his lips. ‘Ah, Miss
Simpson. I didn’t see you there. What can I do for you?’

‘I asked
Miss Simpson to come in with me, Inspector,’ answered Vera before Rose was
obliged to say anything. ‘She has experience of these things, you know.’

‘Yes … I
do know.’

‘Well, I
need her here so that I can answer your questions. If I’m here by myself … well
… I don’t think I will have the necessary courage to answer your questions
properly.’

‘Courage?’
A puzzled look crossed the inspector’s face. ‘Really, Miss Brewster, you don’t
need to have courage to answer my questions. I daresay you may find my
questions rather intrusive. But I hope you won’t find me frightening,’ he
chuckled. ‘Unless of course you have something to hide.’

‘That’s
just it, Inspector. I have. I’d much rather not tell you about it, but I know
that I must. Otherwise you’ll think Theo had a hand in Emmeline’s murder, and
he didn’t. I promise you he didn’t. He’d never hurt anyone. Why, he’s a doctor.
He saves lives and makes people better. He’d never kill anyone. He couldn’t.’

The image
of Theo knocking Vera into the table came into Rose’s mind unbidden. She
remembered too the rough way the doctor had spoken to the woman. He had been
trying not to lose his temper, but he had failed to keep it in check. It seemed
to her that Theo Harrison was very much the type of man who might hurt someone.

‘What
makes you believe that we think Dr Harrison murdered Miss Montacute, Miss
Brewster?’

The inspector’s
face now looked rather grave. Rose thought he also looked apprehensive, almost
as if he were afraid of what Vera was going to say next.

‘He was
in here for such a long time,’ explained Vera. ‘And he looked absolutely awful
when he came back into the drawing room, didn’t he, Rose?’   

‘Some
people find being interviewed more difficult than others,’ said the policeman. ‘It’s
when they try to keep things back or not tell us the whole truth. It does them
no good, no good at all.’

‘Did Dr
Harrison do that?’ Vera asked anxiously.

‘Now,
miss, we’re not here to talk about Dr Harrison. We’re here to talk about you.
Don’t worry your head about the doctor.’

‘But I
love him,’ Vera said.

Both her
voice and choice of words sounded rather pathetic, and the others stood there
awkwardly, not quite knowing how to respond. It was the inspector who recovered
first.

‘Right,
sit down there, if you will please, Miss Brewster.’

‘And Miss
Simpson, where – ’

‘It’s all
right, miss. Miss Simpson can stay as long as she doesn’t interrupt. Sergeant,
place that chair next to Miss Brewster’s, will you.’ The inspector turned to
fix Rose with a not altogether friendly stare. ‘Now, Miss Simpson, I’m allowing
you to stay here on account of Miss Brewster seeming to need you here. But I
must warn you not – ’