Murder in Oils 9

 

Chapter 9

 

Ida met Alexander at the front door, hands on hips.

“What was that about not bothering with dinner?” she said.

“I ordered eleven fish suppers from the chippie,” said Alexander. “Eleven, that’s right, isn’t it? Foster, Campbell, Gregson, Gladys, then David, Nurse, Gloria, the old trout, you, me, and Dr. Craiggie.”

“Is Dr. Craiggie coming to dinner, and does he eat fish and chips?” asked Ida.

“Yes, and yes, and he invited himself when I told him, because his sister won’t let him have fish and chips,” said Alexander. “Right, I’m off to find out what Campbell has for me.”

 

Campbell was in the bathroom singing ‘Mademoiselle des Armentières’ in a rich baritone without any replacement for the more questionable words. There was a red light on.

“What, you have a dark room for your red light district songs?” called out Alexander.

The lyrics of what had not happened to the eponymous Frenchwoman in thirty years broke off.

“Mr. Basil liked me to record ‘is paintings, Major,” called out Campbell. “I ‘as the thing wiv me, to keep an eye on it.”

“Very good; carry on,” said Alexander. “Permission to sing granted.”

“Fanks, sir,” said Campbell.  He launched into ‘Auprès de ma blonde’ and Alexander noted that his French accent was considerably better educated sounding than his natural British tones.

Presently, the light went off, and the door opened.

“I got the pics hangin’ over the bath, drying,” he said. “I puts a board on the bath for me chemical baths, and I irons for Mr. Basil on it too. Wiv a clorf over it,” he added hastily. “No chemicals on my gentleman’s clothes.”

“Some nice clear pictures, and well done for photographing it in situ as well,” said Alexander. “The enamel inlay on the brass in black and white matches well with the impression of it in the painting. Did you get any fingerprints?”

“Nope,” said Campbell, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Ooever done it wore gloves; but if it were a lady, she would of, wouldn’t she? An’ so would Gladdie if she was cleaning brasswear, but Gladdie wouldn’t murder nobody.”

“No, I concur,” said Alexander. “If she brings any shoes in here, I want them pressed into a dough of flour and water, and photographed, and the dough mix baked to preserve them. And that photographed one to one.  What camera do you use?”

“I gotta box-Brownie,” said Campbell. “I used a whole roll o’ film, eight pics.”

“You’d better stock up if you are going to be my man,” said Alexander. “Was there any blood on it?”

“Hell, yes,” said Campbell.  “I done what you suggested and wet a ball o’ cotton wool. I sealed it in a paper bag, and when them prints is dry, I thought I’d take ‘em into London wiv me sample, an’ pick up some more film... that’s more’n I need, sir,” as Alexander gave him a couple of notes.

“Let’s say the rest is for your trouble and the extra running about,” said Alexander. “Thanks for making two prints of each so I have one.”

“I fort you’d need ‘em,” said Campbell, looking pleased that his initiative was acknowledged.

“Get back in good time; fish and chips for dinner,” said Alexander.

“’Is majesty will ‘ave conniptions,” said Campbell, happily. “I’ll be orf in a jiffy when all them prints is dry enough, and have plenty o’time to shop. I could get some plaster o’ Paris rather than eff abaht wiv flour paste.”

“What a good idea,” said Alexander, passing him more money.

Harris was a good sergeant, but having a personally loyal man really was very useful. And a sergeant could not ingratiate himself with other servants the way a valet might.

 

oOoOo

 

Ida passed a letter to Alexander when he emerged, looking for a cup of tea; the dining area had a percolator, teapot, kettle, and bowls of fruit and tins of biscuits, as well as a few slices of bread under a breadsafe, and the toaster, and four tiny dishes for pats of butter under a glass dome.

David was buttering a scone so Alexander tucked the letter discreetly in his pocket.

“How are we to manage without Gloria, eh?” said David. “I hear you stopped by to ask Craiggie to look at her; I should thank you for that. Can’t let her fester without the best care, what?”

“I thought it wisest,” said Alexander. “I also gave Ida a day of respite to get herself together before having to arrange dinner, so I ordered fish and chip suppers for the lot of us, servants and all.”

“Fish and chips! What makes you think persons of our class eat fish and chips? What sort of idea do you have of us?” David went red. “And who said you could use Ida’s name?”

“I like fish and chips, and I fancied them,” said Alexander. “It’s not as if I suggested it for Christmas dinner, not that it bothers me, it’s what a lot of Jewish families do. I hope I’ll be gone well before Christmas.”

“So do I,” muttered David. “Surely your family doesn’t eat fish and chips?”

“Oh, hell, yes, on the sea front, out of newspapers,” said Alexander. “There’s something liberating out of such a very British and patriotic meal, and forgetting table manners for once, don’t you think? It’s one of those great social levellers, like horse-racing and regattas.”

“I suppose so,” said David. “Who said you could use Ida’s name?”

“I am afraid I started doing so because she’s my friend’s sister, and it seemed more friendly,” said Alexander. “Ida! Do you mind me using your name?”

“Not at all, Alex,” said Ida, calmly, helping herself to an apple, and biting into it, skin and all.

“Well, there you are,” said Alexander. “Would you like to help Campbell and me with Basil’s documents?”

“No, but I will,” said Ida. “I hope you have plenty of good, big, white linen hankies, though, I shall probably cry.”

“I’m sorry about that, but if it also brings up happy memories, that has to be good,” said Alexander.

“Yes, and if I cry myself out, I can make sure to be better behaved at the funeral tomorrow,” said Ida.

“You’re not stopping the funerals?” demanded David.

“No, there’s no need,” said Alexander. “Murder may have been established as a certainty, but there is no reason not to give the innocent their closure. I thought I’d make myself scarce after the funeral, and come back on Monday, to give you some time.”

“Good of you,” muttered David, unwillingly.

“I can really start to collate everything on Monday,” said Alexander.

He intended to remove all of Basil’s paintings and papers when he left, and would have done any collating needed by the time of his return, but there was no reason to mention this.

Alexander finished his cup of tea, and a piece of toast, and returned to Basil’s studio, followed by Ida.

“David told me to loop back one of the curtains while I’m in here; as if Campbell would put up with any funny business,” said Ida.

“He is careful of your reputation,” said Alexander. “He has a point.”

“I suppose so,” said Ida. “What papers does Basil have?”

“I’m not sure. Campbell isn’t here, actually; he’s gone up to town with some photographs I asked him to take,” said Alexander.

“I know he kept a diary,” said Ida. “His will should be here somewhere.”

“Any hidden drawers?” asked Alexander.

“A hidden lock, anyway,” said Ida.

“I have his keys; Campbell gave them to me,” said Alexander.

“It’s a little silver-coloured one; there’s a carved lion on the side of his Davenport, and it swings out of the way to show the keyhole,” said Ida. “The drawer is at the front, but you can’t open it unless you unlock the lock.”

“Interesting,” said Alexander. He found the lion head carving, and felt it experimentally, and found that it pivoted to one side. Unlocking the lock caused a click more audible at the front of the Davenport, and a drawer slid slightly forward.  Alexander drew it open.

“Here’s his will,” he said. “Has his solicitor been notified?”

“I didn’t even know he had a solicitor,” said Ida. “David has been assuming all of Basil’s belongings come to him.”

“He’d be wrong, then,” said Alexander. “Oh, you gave me a letter, which I haven’t had a chance to look at.”

“From Dr. Craiggie. He wanted it in writing that in his professional opinion, Gloria is in pain, but perfectly capable of doing her job. But she’s been under a lot of strain, and she is a lady.”

“I doubt it would stop you.”

“I’m stubborn,” said Ida. “What does the will say?”

“Two thousand pounds to Campbell and the residue to you, essentially,” said Alexander.

“Basil had two thousand to leave? David said he mustered out penniless as a cripple,” said Ida.

“Yes, but we all know how much David knows when he has made up his mind,” said Alexander. “Is there a telephone I can use with some degree of privacy?”

“Yes, the one in the housekeeper’s sitting room,” said Ida. “There’s a bedroom, too, with ensuite which Gloria does not use, she has a guest bedroom near the back stairs.”

“Ida, do me a favour; move into the housekeeper’s bedroom, and don’t tell anyone but Gladys. She can perhaps help you bring your clothes down there.”

Ida gave him a startled look.

“Why?” she asked.

“If someone is after your brother’s wealth by marrying him, and finds out how much Basil is worth, and that this comes to you, your life is in danger,” said Alexander, soberly. “Because if you die unmarried, it reverts to David.”

“How... how much are we talking about?” asked Ida.

“Thirty thousand pounds,” said Alexander.

Ida gasped.

“But where did he get that from?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but the sum is mentioned as per the date in July 1920, when he made his will,” said Alexander.

“I know he had a legacy, as I did, but it was not large; I assumed it all went on hospital bills,” said Ida.

“I have account books here,” said Alexander.

“I’d rather have Basil back, as poor as a church mouse,” said Ida.

Alexander passed her a handkerchief as she started sobbing.

A flick through the account books left him whistling.

“Well, he came by his money honestly,” he said. “He copied the entire collection of an American art connoisseur, who wanted copies to put on display, to keep the real collection safe. He was that good!  There are a few museum fees from dealing with damaged artworks; and he seems to have invested very wisely as well. He has shares in a number of automobile companies, and civil aviation. A good, broad portfolio, if this list is anything to go by.

“Oh, my!” said Ida. “He could have moved out.”

“He could, but I fancy he liked to be near you, my dear,” said Alexander.

“Oh! I could have kept house for him without any of the pressures from all the scrapping personalities here, if he had only moved away, and I might not have let Jonathon give me a cigarette to calm me down,” sobbed Ida. “I had run off to go to a party because David and Gloria were at loggerheads, and Helen was crying because she could not make them compromise.”

“Now that seems to be more likely to cause her to miscarry than your problems,” said Alexander, grimly. “You shift yourself and get moved downstairs, while I phone this solicitor.”

 

oOoOo

 

“Blakecastle of Blakecastle, Fawnby and Robb?  My name is Alexander Armitage, I’m an inspector with Scotland Yard; had you been summoned over the death of Basil Henderson of Lashbrook?”

Ida heard the phone yapping irritably.

“No, I’m no relation at all, I’m investigating his murder,” said Alexander.

He held the receiver at a distance from his ear as it exploded in ejaculations of horror, surprise, disbelief and a number of questions.

“Yes, I am completely sure; the Home Office ordered an autopsy, and poisoning seems indicated... yes, his brother and sister are alive and well, but his sister-in-law was murdered, and it appears that Basil witnessed this and was killed... no, I can’t tell you anything like that.  His brother is under the impression that he is the sole legatee. Ida?  She’s upset at her brother’s death, and was hoping to keep a few paintings before her brother burned the rest....” he held the receiver away again. “Calm down!” he yelled. “I’ve been helping her rescue them.  No, I have no idea what they are worth, and nor does she, and their worth as work of her brother is more important to her... Yes, dammit, of course I’m taking care of her interests, I’m an old friend of Basil’s and I’m in love with her and I’m going to marry her as soon as I can... I need a ring. No, I had no idea I was going to fall in love.  I intended to fulfil a promise to Basil to keep an eye on her... yes, that was in July two years ago, when he made his will, and we met up. Yes, if you can come to Lashbrook as soon as is convenient, do you have an updated amount?” he pursed his lips and whistled. “Well, I do anticipate foul play when this is known, I’m hoping to persuade Ida to go to my mother, but not until after the funeral... oh, eleven o’clock to morrow morning.  You can be there tonight?  I hope you’ll be satisfied with fish and chips, the housekeeper met with an accident... you like fish and chips? Splendid.”

He rang off, checked a list of numbers, and dialled again.

“Fishmonger? Armitage from Foursquares; make that twelve fish suppers. Add it to the house bill, will you? Thanks.”

“You handle people very well without getting angry like David,” said Ida. He grinned.

“And now the screaming begins when David realises that Basil was selling paintings for four figure sums, as well as investing wisely,” he said.