Mingled With Venom

Chapter 15

A List of Suspects

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‘Yes,’ Dame Beatrice went on, ‘neither Miss Aysgarth nor Miss Bute needed to ask for the use of Mrs Leyden’s car and chauffeur when either of them wanted to visit the other members of Mrs Leyden’s family. I think it is possible, as there is a third horse, that Mattie Lunn may have accompanied Miss Aysgarth occasionally, but I do not imagine that Miss Bute ever welcomed an escort of that kind.’

‘Class distinctions rearing their ugly head?’

‘Not altogether.’

‘Oh, of course Fiona Bute would have ridden over to see Rupert Bosse-Leyden when his wife wasn’t likely to be at home.’

‘Far more likely that she rode over to his office, I think, or met him by previous arrangement on his walks.’

‘What happened in bad weather, then? She’d have needed the car when it was wet.’

‘Or else she did not go.’

‘Don’t you think she ever went to visit the Porthcawl man and the Leeks, then?’

‘Oh, I am sure she would do that, too. The fact that Bluebell Leek was willing to take her in when she quarrelled with Mrs Leyden is proof that she was well in touch with the people at Seawards, I think.’

‘If I’m not out of line in putting the question, if the girl Denham isn’t guilty, which of them did it, I wonder?’

‘Poisoned Mrs Leyden? I have a list of possible candidates, and if it were not for Antonia Aysgarth’s unbreakable alibi—and it is unbreakable, for I made certain of that when I accompanied her to London—and for the fact that she had nothing to gain by Mrs Leyden’s death—’

‘Except a possible legacy and her independence.’

‘The legacy, as you point out, was problematical and she has gained her independence without it, since she has so contrived matters that she is to have a flat which certainly she could not have afforded on the money she thought might be her portion.’

‘All the same, she would have been your pick except for her alibi.’

‘Psychologically I think she would qualify. She is ambitious and, I would say, ruthless in gaining her ends. On the other hand, I sum her up as being intelligent enough to realise that, with her knowledge of Mrs Plack’s routine, she would be bound to come under suspicion, and I do not see her as a person who would take unnecessary risks.’

‘So who are your suspects?’

‘Those who had the most to gain and, of course, I do not lose sight of a fact we have mentioned before.’

‘That Margaret Denham may be guilty after all?’

‘Exactly. We cannot leave her out of our reckoning.’

‘What about Parsifal Leek and young Gamaliel? Both may have hoped for a cut. It seems to me that you can’t eliminate anybody except the Bosse-Leydens. It seems, from what we’ve found out, that Rupert wouldn’t have had any expectations. That goes for Diana, too, and their kids are much too young to have carried out this kind of murder, apart from being away at school at the time. Then there’s Fiona Bute. Surely she must have had expectations under the old lady’s Will.’

‘Expectations which have been realised, although perhaps not to the extent for which she may have hoped. Five per cent of Mrs Leyden’s fortune is not so very generous a share. However, I do not propose to eliminate the Bosse-Leydens. There is one thing of which I can make certain, although I am sure I know the answer. George will be here with the car shortly to get his orders for the day. He shall be our witness.’

‘To what?’

‘To where Gamaliel, Mrs Leek and Mr Porthcawl spent the fateful Friday and Saturday.’

‘Of course! You sent them to London and they spent a night in Exeter on the way back. George took them in the car.’

Confirmation of this was readily obtained as soon as George appeared. ‘Oh, yes, madam,’ he said at once. ‘Following your instructions I drove the party under advisement to London on the Thursday and we put up at the Kensington hotel you had booked for us and, of course, the car keys were never out of my possession. On the Friday I took the party shopping on behalf of the young West Indian gentleman and we spent the night at the same hotel. On the Saturday, again according to your instructions, I took the party to Exeter and on the Sunday, which was the day when Mrs Leyden had her fatal seizure, we left Exeter at ten in the morning and I set the party down at their home in time for lunch.’

‘So Gamaliel, Mrs Leek and Mr Porthcawl are definitely out of it,’ said Laura.

‘And so is Miss Aysgarth, as we have said. She also was in London. It is useful to be able to remove four people from our list of possible suspects. Let us give our attention to those who remain.’

‘I still don’t see why we can’t eliminate the two Bosse-Leydens as they had no expectations under Mrs Leyden’s Will.’

‘Their children are to benefit, although, from what Mrs Leek has told me, I gather that this came as a surprise to the parents.’

‘Well, then?’

‘The motive assigned by the police to the girl Denham could apply equally well to Mr and Mrs Bosse-Leyden.’

‘Revenge?’

‘Exactly. It cannot have been pleasant for either of them to know that Mrs Leyden despised Mr Bosse-Leyden for his illegitimate birth, a thing which he was utterly unable to help.’

‘You do seem to be in Mrs Leek’s confidence! I suppose it is from her that you get all your information.’

‘Some of it, although she is discreet. I get more, in fact, from George, whom I have asked for reports of gossip at his public house.’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’

‘Besides, I can assign another motive to the Bosse-Leydens. It seems to be common knowledge that Rupert Bosse-Leyden has been deeply attracted to Miss Fiona Bute for some years and also that if a divorce between the Bosse-Leyden couple had ever been arranged, Diana Bosse-Leyden and Garnet Porthcawl would have married.’

‘But while the strait-laced old lady was alive, I suppose a divorce was out of the question unless Garnet was prepared to be cut out of the Will.’

‘I gather from Mrs Leek that it is still out of the question unless the couple wish to deprive their children of that portion which is to come to them when they are of age.’

‘So their only plan is to patch up their differences and make the best of matters.’

‘Which is what they seem to have done.’

‘So the old lady has had the last word after all. What about Fiona Bute?’

‘Well, she had quarrelled with Mrs Leyden and she went to live for a time with the Leeks and Mr Porthcawl, so she must be on our list. Mrs Porthcawl also quarrelled with her mother, but she remained at Headlands where she and Miss Bute have now joined forces to the extent that Miss Aysgarth has been finally banished.’

‘You don’t suspect Mrs Porthcawl, though, do you? The quarrel doesn’t seem to have been serious enough for that, if Mrs Porthcawl could still stay on in the house. Besides, matricide has always seemed to me the most horrible of crimes.’

‘Nevertheless, it has been known, and we must not lose sight of the fact that, of all the suspects, Mrs Porthcawl had perhaps the best opportunity of anybody for the commission of this particular crime. She was on her own ground, she had unquestionably the right to visit the kitchen and she had a great deal to gain, in the material sense, by her mother’s death.’

‘But could she have been sure of that?’

‘You have touched upon the weak spot in my argument.

I do not know what she knew. At any rate, we may take it, I think, that she expected to be left the house and the estate. How much of the actual money she hoped to get is problematic. I shall go and ask her to grant me another interview. I am still bearing in mind that the police may have made no mistake in fixing upon Margaret Denham as the guilty party, but nobody wants her condemned if she is innocent.’

‘Except the murderer, perhaps.’

‘As ever, there is reason in what you point out.’

‘You might tell me—strictly off the record, of course— who did it. You’ve fixed on someone, haven’t you? I can’t decide upon any particular party, but I’ve a hunch that you’ve got one of these people very much in your mind.’

‘Well, one of them seems to have been more favourably situated than the others for the commission of this particular crime and, psychologically, is the likeliest, except for Miss Aysgarth, to have committed it. It would be most improper of me to name names, however, when, so far, I have nothing in the way of proof.’

‘Do you want me to come with you when you go to see Mrs Porthcawl? Do you want notes to be taken?’

‘I think not. What you can do, if you will, is to talk to Mattie Lunn. She has three horses in her care, and you like horses.’

‘You think she might let me ride one of them if I did a bit of palmistry?’

‘I think it not unlikely. At any rate, the negotiations might provide a talking-point.’

‘What is it that you particularly want to know?’

‘Whether she saw anybody arrive at Headlands on the Friday or Saturday morning, anybody whom she was somewhat surprised to see.’

‘You are leaving the Sunday out of it?’

‘Yes. Mrs Leyden died at the luncheon table on Sunday. Both Mrs Plack and her kitchenmaid would have been in the kitchen until well after Sunday lunch was served. Nobody from outside would have dared to attempt to change over the jars of horseradish sauce in the presence of both of them.’

‘Oh, no, of course not. Right. I’ll get over there right away, shall I?’

‘George can take us both and drop you at the stables.’

‘Of course there are the Lunns to be considered, aren’t there? Both had easy access to the kitchen and knew how to choose their time to sneak into it, if necessary, without being spotted.’

‘Yes, and Mattie, we have to remember, was smarting under a sense of grievance owing to her somewhat summary dismissal from her employment as groom.’

‘Wonder whether I can get her to talk about that? In some ways, you know, she could be suspect Number One, don’t you think?’

‘As a possible candidate for that undesirable position, certainly she qualifies.’

Redruth and Mattie Lunn were cleaning the Headlands car. Dame Beatrice left Laura with them while she herself walked up to the house. Maria and Fiona were sitting in a room whose bay window looked out over the sea. They were sorting out skeins of embroidery silk. Maria looked sullen, Fiona bored. Both brightened up when Dame Beatrice was announced. They pushed their work aside and Maria came forward to greet her. Maria was in black and her grey hair was severely strained back from her face; Fiona wore black trousers, a white silk shirt and a flowing black tie and looked extremely attractive.

Maria seated the visitor and rang for refreshment. She then sat down and said: ‘Life at the moment is inexpressibly tiresome. Until this hateful trial is over and a verdict given, we’re stuck here literally like birds in the wilderness.’

‘But surely,’ said Dame Beatrice, glancing out of the window at grass and rocks and headlands, at sunlight, sea and sky, ‘the wilderness is paradise now?’

‘We want to go away,’ said Fiona, ‘to somewhere where the grass, metaphorically, is greener, although, in prosaic and actual terms, it may be scorched and brown. We are for sunny Spain and on to Sicily and Greece as soon as it’s possible to leave.’

‘Surely the police would not prevent your going?’

‘Oh, no. It’s just that, well—’ she glanced at Maria, who nodded and looked sombre again—‘well, naturally we’ve talked and talked about madre’s death, and we simply can’t believe that that poor wretched girl is guilty.’

‘You see,’ said Maria, ‘we argue that, if Margaret wanted to be revenged on anybody, it would have been on young Pabbay—I mean young Aysgarth. She was the one who complained and got the girl dismissed.’

‘Besides,’ said Fiona, ‘it all seems so elaborate and, well, really, rather deviously clever. The method chosen, I mean. Perhaps you don’t know this, Dame Beatrice, but madre used to take chances on cliff-paths and the sort of scrambling about that wasn’t at all the kind of thing one would advise a woman of seventy-five to do. What is more, she claimed that, not so long ago, somebody gave her a push over the edge of the cliff.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Maria. ‘Anybody who really meant business would have pushed a lot harder. I don’t think she really believed it herself, because she didn’t give up the walks. Still, even if she only stumbled and lost her footing, it proved that the walks weren’t suitable for her.’

‘The point is,’ said Fiona, ‘that, to our way of thinking, the vile plan which was used to kill madre was too subtle and elaborate for the girl to have thought up. It was also a plan no kitchenmaid would have dared to carry out.’

‘Because of your cook?’

‘Exactly. Mrs Plack can be quite kindhearted, but she can also be a dragon to her kitchenmaids, and if she thought one of them had monkeyed about with her sacred horseradish sauce the girl’s life wouldn’t have been worth living.’

‘Of course, the girl was not actually under Mrs Plack’s domination at the time, but it is a point which ought to be considered,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘By the way, I notice that you, Miss Bute, always refer to Mrs Leyden as madre. She wasn’t a Spaniard, was she?’

‘Oh, no. You see, I was very fond of her because she had always been so good to me, but I didn’t feel I could call her mother, as Maria, of course, was entitled to do, so I chose the Spanish equivalent. She was so pleased with it that when Antonia was given what one might call family status, Mrs Leyden liked to be called the abuela, the grandmother. Her Christian name actually was Romula. Her father had wanted a boy to be called Romulus, after the founder of Rome, so when a daughter turned up he altered the name as little as he could.’

‘That is most interesting,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘So many of your family’s names are both interesting and picturesque.’ She tried them over, as though to herself. ‘Romula, Maria, Fiona, Diana, Rupert, Bluebell, Parsifal, Antonia, Gamaliel and, last but also charming, Quentin and Millament.’

‘You have them all off pat,’ said Fiona, laughing.

‘Yes, indeed. I have heard them at various times from Mrs Leek.’

‘There is one you left out,’ said Maria.

‘Ah, yes, your son Garnet.’

‘Do you not like the name? Neither do I. It was his father’s choice, not mine, but Garnet and Bluebell are twins, as are Quentin and Millament, and it was agreed that my husband, who had adopted the name of Vannion in place of his own, which was Enoch, should name the boy and I the girl. He chose Garnet Wolseley for my son; I decided upon Bluebell Wendy for my daughter. My husband was on the stage, by the way, this to my mother’s disapproval.’

‘I think I agree that Vannion Porthcawl has a better ring to it than Enoch Porthcawl. Miss Aysgarth, I believe, had a similar notion to adopt a name she deemed more suitable for her public appearances.’

‘Well, it is not surprising,’ said Maria bitterly. ‘Like father like daughter, I suppose, although I do not believe they ever met.’

‘You say you find it hard to believe that Margaret Denham is a criminal,’ said Dame Beatrice after what she felt was a suitable pause, ‘but, if not Margaret, what are the alternatives?’

‘Well, we’re loth to suspect the Lunns,’ said Maria, ‘although Mattie had a grievance. Mrs Plack, of course, is out of the question. She would never—how shall I put it?’

‘Prostitute one of her own condiments by poisoning it,’ said Fiona. ‘She would regard that as a most immoral and sacrilegious act.’

‘The other possibility which I think ought to be considered,’ said Maria, who did not think the situation called for humour, ‘is a genuine mistake on the part of the greengrocer or a wicked practical joke on the part of his assistant.’

‘Neither seems very likely,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Did you, by any chance, have callers, especially unexpected callers, on the Friday or Saturday?’

‘You think a complete outsider could have done that terrible thing?’ asked Maria. ‘I don’t see how that would be possible. It certainly would be most unlikely. I know of nobody who would have disliked or feared my mother to that extent. She had very little contact with the outside world. She went for her lonely walks and she went out for drives in the car, but that was all. As a matter of fact, she and I were out all the Friday afternoon, so, if anybody came to the house then, we would not have been aware of it and the maids said nothing about callers when we got home at teatime.’

‘I was out, too,’ said Fiona, ‘so the same thing applies to me.’

Dame Beatrice concluded that Fiona had gone out to meet Rupert so she did not trouble to ask any questions. She rose to take her leave, having learnt one tiny fact which had turned her suspicions into near certainty.

Mattie and her brother were still at their task, but there was no sign of Laura.

‘No need for you to hang about,’ said Mattie. ‘Her went off on Emperor like a queen. I’ll have her ride him to the Smugglers’ and I’ll ride with her and bring both horses back. Arranged it all with her, I have, so nothing for you to worry about.’

‘I am infinitely obliged to you,’ said Dame Beatrice. She was about to get into her car when she heard hoof-beats, strong and rhythmic, and Laura came trotting up, dismounted, exchanged a few words with Mattie and then came over to the car.

‘Great ride!’ she said. ‘How did you get on? Did you manage to knock anybody else off your list of suspects?’

‘So far, no. Mrs Porthcawl and Miss Bute claim to have been out on what may have been the important Friday afternoon. I did not enquire where they went, either on the Friday or the Saturday. They volunteered the information about Friday and I have no doubt that the police will have checked their story of how they spent both afternoons.’

‘The trouble about them—Mrs Porthcawl anyway—is that the change-over of the jars of horseradish could have been done at night when everybody else was asleep. Seems to me she had the best opportunity of anybody to make the switch.’

‘That isn’t really important.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Their family names. I mean their first names. I forgot to include, in my recital of these, the bachelor brother Garnet.’

‘Forgot, or didn’t intend to mention it?’

‘You are much too intelligent.’

‘So what was your object?’

‘To find out whether one of them would supply the missing item.’

‘And did it work?’

‘Yes. It showed me that whatever suspicions they entertain, these do not include Mr Garnet Porthcawl.’

‘But they couldn’t. He was either in London or Exeter at the time.’

‘There are such things as private hire cars, and Garnet, I daresay, earns enough to pay for one.’