Murder in oils 11

 

Chapter 11

 

Mr. Blakecastle of Blakecastle, Fawnby, and Robb, arrived at seven.

“The fog seems to be breaking, at last, but it’s perishing cold out,” he said. “Mr. Henderson, I see a resemblance to Mr. Basil Henderson; Miss Ida; and you’ll be Inspector Armitage?”

“That’s correct,” said Alexander, taking his turn to shake hands.

“Perhaps you’d like to come upstairs to your room,” said Ida.  “If you want a quick bath to warm up, the water is hot.  We are not changing for dinner as it’s an informal fish and chip supper, but I haven’t been able to provide a beach to pretend it is the seaside. I have made a pineapple gateau for afters, however.”

“Dear me, how delightful!” said Mr. Blakecastle, an elderly man who was plainly enchanted by Ida. “I have heard so much about you from your brother, he was very keen to make sure that anything he left you was to be tied up in a trust for your safety, and administered by the firm.”

“Basil was always very good to me,” said Ida.

“Yes, he had time, as of course, he couldn’t work,” said David.

“Oh, dear me, Mr. Henderson, what makes you think that Mr. Basil Henderson did not look upon painting as work?” said Mr. Blakecastle. “I know he put money aside for you as you would not take his board and keep from him.”

“I couldn’t break into what might have remained of his legacy,” said David. “Old Uncle Basil didn’t leave him enough for that after hospital bills, not when it was my pleasure to keep my war-hero brother.”

“Oh, but Mr. Henderson, it wasn’t from his legacy, no, not at all,” said Mr. Blakecastle.  “Mr. Basil Henderson made a sizeable amount on his paintings, not just his museum work, copying old masters for display and curator work. He sold well with his original paintings too, and he invested what he made very wisely indeed.  As he left his entire painting collection to Miss Henderson, she would be well off if she sold one of them a year.”

“What about those of us he painted? Aren’t we entitled to them?” demanded Gloria.

“I believe Mr. Henderson always insisted on giving a gift in exchange for painting other people,” said Mr. Blakecastle, dryly.  “That means a model has been paid and has no claim on the painting.”

“But I didn’t know they would be valuable,” said Gloria. It was perilously close to a whine. “I’d have asked a proper fee if I’d known.”

“Basil asked if you were contented with what he gave you for your time, and you said, ‘yes,’” said Ida. “There’s a good one of Helen with Gloria in the style of Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema there,” she pointed to the wall. “He gifted that one to David.”

“I think I’ll move it to my office, upstairs,” said David. “So I can see Helen every day while I work.  Would it cut down, do you think? Then Gloria could have her half.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Alexander, as Gloria spluttered. “It would destroy the value, and remove the counterpoint to Helen, throwing her air of fragility into relief.”

“Yes, I see what you mean,” said David. “Ida, can you see yourself giving Gloria and Anna a picture of themselves?”

“Oh, I expect so,” said Ida. “I will have to sort through them. There’s only one of Anna, and it’s a bit ironic.”

“I’d rather not,” said Anna. “I have seen some of his ironic works.”

“Yes, I don’t suppose Miss Truckle will like the one he did of her, either,” murmured Ida.

Alexander bit back a laugh.

It had been a picture of a gnat with Miss Truckle’s face, in the manner of Fuseli, parodying his most famous work, ‘The Nightmare’ where Ida was sleeping on a day bed and the gnat, hugely out of proportion, was menacing her.

“Run up and take advantage of the hot water,” he said to the solicitor. “Dinner will be arriving soon. We can talk later.”

“Dear me, yes, thank you,” said Mr. Blakecastle, allowing himself to be led, docilely, by Ida. “Are these the fatal stairs?”

“Yes, but do not upset David, I pray you,” said Ida, hurrying him away.

 

Dr Craiggie arrived with the fish boy, just as Mr. Blakecastle, much warmer now, was coming downstairs.  David was explaining to the doctor and Alexander his patent air-ducting system from the back of the big fireplace in the centre of the divide between eating and living area, and how heat was carried under the floorboards around the living space.

Ida had brought a stack of plates and knives and forks.

“I thought we could sit around the fire, and eat out of the paper, but if there are plates, those who prefer them can eat on their laps, or at the table,” she said.

“I will eat at the table,” said David.

“I’ll join you,” said Gloria.

“Dear me, when I was growing up, fish and chips was a very new experience, and we used to sneak out of school, pooling our pennies for what we could afford, and we sat and ate in the dormitory, and burned all the paper afterwards, and opened the windows to disperse the smell,” said Mr. Blakecastle, happily. “How that takes me back! Delightful.” He eased himself into an armchair with a paper of fish and chips, plying salt and vinegar with happy abandon.

“I virtually lived on fish and chips at university,” said Craiggie. “A quick, cheap meal, for those of us not up for the more expensive fare. Often enough sausage and chips, two sausages for a ha’penny, cheaper than a piece of fish.”

“Or fishcakes,” said Alexander. “Fishcakes can be very tasty.”

“Like rissoles,” said Ida. “We used to have rissoles for breakfast a lot, or bubble and squeak, when I was looking after my brothers.”

“I like bubble and squeak,” said Alexander. “You can feed me on it deliberately, not just because it’s cheap.  With a fried egg on top, frilly and crisp at its edges.”

“Oh, fussy about your eggs with military precision, are you, Major Armitage?” said Ida.

“Why, yes, I am, future Mrs. Armitage,” said Alexander. “I demand them sunny side up and not hardened.”

“I shall be on my mettle.  If there are any chips left over, I’ll make them into bubble and squeak for breakfast tomorrow with the cabbage left over from last night,” said Ida.

“If Gloria lets you,” said Anna, with a touch of spite.

“She’ll be too exhausted from socialising to get up,” said Ida. “Especially if I tell her how well she’s looking and that I am sure she’ll be quite back to normal.”

Alexander laughed, and was interested that Anna and Miss Truckle and the doctor joined him in this.

“Dear me, not an entirely happy household?” asked Blakecastle. “Not that a household can be expected to be happy after two sudden deaths... perhaps harmonious would have been a better word.”

“Helen kept all the disparate characters in the house relatively happy and able to rub along tolerably together,” said Ida. “She was a very quiet person, but the lack of her quietude is very loud.”

“What a very profound statement,” said Alexander. “That describes it very well, not that I knew the household as a household, but I can well imagine and understand that from the comments others have made. And there is a lack of quietude at the table.”

David was on his feet.

“Just leave me alone, woman!” he shouted, at Gloria. “You have no idea at all how I feel, so don’t pretend that you do! I will grieve in my own way and I don’t want to effing-well talk about it!”

He picked up his plate of fish and chips and stalked over to join everyone else, dropping into an upright chair and sat, looking awkward.

Ida moved a folding card table over for him.

“Thank you,” said David. “Promise me you won’t read psychology at university; women are unsuited to it and get batty ideas in their heads about understanding people.”

“I want to study Archaeology,” said Ida.

“Good,” said David. “And better than medicine, all your clients will be dead and can’t complain.”

“She could study medicine and go in for forensic pathology,” said Alexander.

“No, thank you, too messy,” said Ida. “I don’t like sick people.”

“You were perfect with Basil,” said David.

“Oh, he wasn’t sick, he was damaged,” said Ida. “It makes a difference.”

“So, what has poor old Basil left?” asked David.

“Well, strictly, I should not read the will without all the beneficiaries present,” said Mr. Blakecastle.  “I thought it might be more appropriate to read it to Mr. and Miss Henderson, Mr. Campbell, Miss Price, and Mr. Armitage in private.”

“Me?” said Alexander, startled.

“More an adjuration than a legacy, though a painting is mentioned,” said Mr. Blakecastle. “I can’t really say any more.”

“Who the hell is Miss Price?” demanded David.

“Her first name is Gladys; I believe she is a maid,” said Mr. Blakecastle.

“Gladys? Now, you are not telling me Basil was messing around with a maid under my nose?” David was getting heated again.

“The legacy is dependent on the young woman’s decision,” said Blakecastle. “There is no suggestion of any... hanky-panky..., Mr. Henderson.”

“I expect he wanted to thank her for her kindness to me,” said Ida.

“I’ll have them come to my study,” said David, standing up.

“Not until after the gateau,” said Ida. “Because I am not going until I’ve had my gateau, and it is impolite to Mr. Blakecastle to drag him off before he has finished eating. That’s why you are so unpopular in the village, you have no manners, and no consideration for anyone but yourself.”

“I... I am not discourteous!” said David. “Don’t you want to know what Basil left you?”

“No, I want to enjoy gateau with visitors,” said Ida. “The gateau will get too warm if left out any longer, but the will is not going to spoil.  So long as I have Basil’s pictures, I don’t really care.”

“I’m with Ida, and vote for gateau first,” said Alexander.

David was sulky, but it did not stop him having a generous portion of gateau.

“This is sublime! Did you send up to town for it?” he asked. “I can’t believe the bakery managed it.”

“I made it, thank you very much, David,” said Ida. “Because I am capable.”

“Well, I’m damned,” said David.

“Mr. Henderson!” said Blakecastle, scandalised.

“What?” said David.

“He doesn’t like you swearing in front of a young lady,” said Alexander.

“I didn’t,” said David. “Anyway, Ida doesn’t mind, do you?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I did,” said Ida. “You’d please yourself whatever.”

“The hell with you, I do not effing well act like you say!”

“Mr. Henderson! Your language!” said Blakecastle.

“Stop baiting Ida by letting your language get worse and worse, old man,” said Alexander.

“But I’m not! I don’t swear, I am the mildest tempered of men!” shouted David.

“You shout and swear like a trooper, David,” said Dr. Craiggie. “You always have done, but Helen could always divert you when you started getting into a paddy.”

“A paddy?” David was almost jumping up and down, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Alexander took him by the arm and firmly marched him over to the studio.

“Dr. Craiggie, as one of the medical profession, would probably warn you about your blood pressure; as a policeman, I am going to point out, without prejudice, that you have a foul mouth and a temper which will get you into trouble if you don’t curb it,” he said. “Saying you are a mild mannered man and then all but jumping up and down in rage is hilariously funny to me, but distressing to the old man, and not very pleasant for Ida. Now, calm down, try to think before effing, blinding, damning and so on. It’s not manly, and it’s not attractive.”

“Damn you!” snarled David, taking a swing at Alexander.

He found his arm caught, and swung up behind him in a vice-like grip.

“I could arrest you for that,” said Alexander. “Get a grip on yourself, man! Throwing a tantrum every time you are thwarted is a fool thing to do. I know it’s because you are upset about Helen, and feel lost, but you can’t express your grief by attacking the world.”

“I... I...” and then David was sobbing, great racking sobs. Alexander drew him through into the bedroom, and sat him on the bed, giving him time to let the grief roll off the man.

“Now,” said Alexander, “Go into the bathroom and clean up, and then ring for Gladys to assemble her, Campbell, Ida, Blakecastle, and me in here, with orders to Foster to serve coffee half an hour later in the living room. We’ll get that all over and done with.”

“Thanks. I don’t like you much, but, hell! You’ve been more help than many people I’d think of as friends,” said David.

“We’re going to be brothers, so it behoves me to establish myself as family,” said Alexander.

“I suppose so,” said David.

Alexander left him, and returned to his gateau, which he had not finished.  He was just dealing with the last of the cream, and surreptitiously licking his fingers, when Gladys came in.

“If you please, Mr. Blakecastle, Mr. Armitage, and Miss Ida are to go to the studio,” she said.

Blakecastle picked up his briefcase.

Gloria stood up and moved to join them.

“Sorry, this is only for those mentioned in Basil’s will,” said Alexander.

“Oh, but surely little Ida won’t mind...” Gloria tried.

“Yes, I do,” said Ida.

She went into the studio, where David had set up a table for Blakecastle, and pulled chairs around in front of it, over near the windows. Ida darted into a corner, winding up the phonograph, and putting on a record, and soon the tones of Al Jolson’s voice singing ‘April Showers’ ensured that there would be no eavesdropping.

She smiled brightly at Blakecastle.

“Shall we move on?” she said.

“Er, yes, certainly,” said Blakecastle.  “First, small bequests; to Andrew Campbell, a faithful batman, valet, nurse, and friend, two thousand pounds, for if he wants to set up his own photography shop.”

“Oh, Gawd!” said Campbell. His eyes streamed with tears. “’E used-a tease me about me photography shop, but I never fort...” he turned to Alexander. “But is the offer to be your man still open?”

“If you want it,” said Alexander.

“I’ll put it in the bank,” said Campbell. “Mr. Basil would want to know as how his friend was being looked after proper like. And if that’s me done, I’ll go and tend to Mr. Jolson on the phonograph; we got plenty to keep that predatory hyena from hearing nuffin’.”

“Thank you, Campbell,” said Alexander.

Campbell managed a cheeky grin and went over to the phonograph.

Blakecastle cleared his throat as ‘April Showers’ ended, and ‘Ding-a-ring a ring’ rang out.

“Miss Price,” he said. “To Miss Gladys Price; the choice of one thousand pounds for her good care of my sister Ida, or to be paid fifty pounds a year from a trust to be set up for as long as she stays as Ida’s maid, the residue of the trust to go to her if she leaves Ida’s service through no fault of her own, or Ida should die. The trust is to be administered by the firm of Blakecastle, Fawnby and Robb.”

Gladys gasped.

“Go on!” she said. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a thousand pounds. I’m willing to be Miss Ida’s maid forever.”

“Very well, there will be some papers to sign,” said Blakecastle.  “Next... my goodness, that last line of the song is distinctly questionable.”

“Don’t worry about it, sir, Americans, you know,” said Alexander.

Campbell made a change of artist to the instrumental ‘Livery Stable Blues’ from the Dixieland Jazz Band.

“Basil had terrible taste in music,” sighed David.

“I like it,” said Ida.

“Quiet, both of you and let Mr. Blakecastle do his job,” said Alexander.

“Quite so,” said Mr. Blakecastle.

 

Murder in Oils 10 weekend bonus

 

 

Chapter 10

 

“Did you mean it? That you are in love with me?” demanded Ida.

“Did you eavesdrop on my telephone conversation?”

“Of course I did,” said Ida. “I wanted to know what you said, and you didn’t tell me not to. Are you in love or are you just satisfying the solicitor that you are looking after me?”

Alexander pulled her into his arms, and kissed her with a thoroughness which left Ida in no doubt as to his feelings.

“Oh!” said Ida. “I wish I had known you two years ago; why would anyone use opium when they could have kisses?”

“You’re adorable,” said Alexander. “But now I have to handle David with the delicacy and finesse of a man deboning kippers.”

Ida giggled.

“I am sure you will manage,” she said. “You haven’t popped the question.”

“I ought to ask his permission.”

“Ask, anyway.”

“Will you marry me, Ida?”

“Yes!” said Ida.

“We can have a long engagement so you can go to university,” said Alexander.

“Do you mind?”

“No; I want you to be sure, and to have found yourself entirely,” said Alexander. “And if you meet some young man your own age and prefer him I prefer to know before we are married.”

“Nobody has cared for me as tenderly as you except Basil,” said Ida, soberly. “You treat me as a princess, but you still assume I am capable.”

“It’s how Papa treats Mama,” said Alexander.

 

oOoOo

 

 

“David, there’s going to be someone else for dinner, old man,” said Alexander, strolling out to where David was knocking billiards around a billiards table. “Do you want a game?”

“Why not?  Who have you invited?” David collected the balls to re-rack.

“Well, I could scarcely refuse to put up Basil’s solicitor, could I?” said Alexander. “The trouble falls on Ida’s head, and she was willing to open up a guest room. Do the rooms that back onto the servant’s quarters have windows?”

“Of course they do; the servants live on what is essentially a mezzanine as the kitchen is in a kind of half basement. Part of it is under the studio, which is why there’s a balcony-terrace,” said David. “There are rooms for female servants above the housekeeper’s room, just that we only have Gladys because servants are in short supply.  The male servants sleep in rooms with windows under the balcony, all very hygienic.  It was supposed to be a ballroom, but Basil took it over.”

“Oh, that makes perfect sense,” said Alexander. “I should have a proper look around.”

“Do, the design is revolutionary and efficient,” said David, enthusiastically. “All pipes and electrical wiring is inside conduits in the thickness of the walls, and can be accessed by a number of concealed panels, with ladders and crawlways. We don’t have to be disturbed at all by plumbers or electricians, they can go into the crawlways out of sight and get on with it.”

“Fascinating,” said Alexander, neglecting to point out that this made murder much easier too.

“I am a good architect,” said David, smugly. “Now what’s this about Basil’s solicitor? He hasn’t got anything to leave.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” said Alexander. “I’d pay a good bit for some of his paintings, and if he has left them to Ida, I probably shall. I gather he intended to do so; and apparently there’s a legacy to Campbell as well. You wouldn’t want to deprive the poor chap of that.”

“No, no of course not, nor any keepsakes he leaves to Ida,” said David. “If he sold a few paintings, it might put her through university, if she is strong enough.”

“If it doesn’t, I have a mind to do so; I want to pay my addresses to her. You were right to make me examine my feelings over why I started using her name; I want to ask her to marry me,” said Alexander.

“I... my dear fellow! This is very sudden.”

“Yes, I know, I am not used to being knocked for six by a woman like this,” said Alexander with a deprecating show of frankness. “And I am aware that you must find her harder to live with, without Helen providing a buffer between two powerful intellects and stubborn natures.”

“I... why, that could be why I find her so difficult,” said David. “You think she is as clever as I am?”

“Oh, the whole family is brainy,” said Alexander. “I think it’s plain that one of you is cleverer than the other two, but by normal standards, Ida is quite brilliant.”

David preened, and Alexander addressed the table to hide the laugh inside that it was not David whom he had meant.

It took a lot of skill to lose, just, to David, but Alexander managed the feat, and David was full of bonhomie. Alexander then opened the note from Dr Craiggie, which said pretty much what the doctor had told Ida, and a rider that he was looking forward to dinner.

Alexander laughed.

“Oh, Dr Craiggie has invited himself to dinner too; his sister is so very middle class, she won’t let him have fish and chips, and when he heard that we have no such bourgeois qualms here he let the fish shop know there’d be an extra place at dinner. Cheeky old man! But I can’t blame him.”

“Indeed!” said David. “I am glad you are not at outs with him over Basil’s... death.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” said Alexander. “Death causes changes to a body, and Campbell had not explained that the symptoms had been whilst Basil was still alive. Under the circumstances, it was not unreasonable, even as he assumed that Helen fell because she had quarrelled with you leading to a moment of carelessness.”

“Old fool,” said David. “Helen is the one person who never quarrels... quarrelled... with me. I... I can’t believe she’s gone! What will I do?”

“You’ll find the strength to carry on for your family,” said Alexander.

“Yes, I suppose so; such as it is, now, and Ida leaving me, too,” said David.

“Perhaps you could find it in you to be kind to Miss Truckle and let her stay until she can find another position,” said Alexander. “I think she has kindly intentions, and she is not as forceful as jolly people like that nurse.”

David shuddered.

“To have a buffer – good word of yours – between me and Gloria too would be useful,” he said.

If he remarried, Alexander was happier to throw Miss Truckle to the wolves than subject the hapless child Cyril to a stepfather like David.

 

oOoOo

 

 

Gloria came down from her room for afternoon tea, limping visibly, and Ida solicitously put a little table by a chaise longue of hideous design of wood tortured into geometric curves, and canvas between the wooden frame.  Alexander had seen more comfortable-looking camp beds for Other Ranks, but perhaps, like the armchairs, looks were deceiving.  Ida provided a comforter to lie on, pillows, and a light shawl ‘not too heavy on your poor legs’ for her, and Gloria certainly enjoyed the attention, if not the level of comfort of the chaise longue. She did look somewhat drawn.

“Miss Wandsworth!” said Alexander. “You were, I believe, worried that you might be blamed for carelessness, but I can assure you that the poison was given to Basil deliberately.”

“I hardly can feel comforted by that,” said Gloria. “People might accuse me of trying to kill him!”

“Oh, not without a good motive, surely?” said Alexander. “After all, the current theory has to be that he was killed because he saw Helen murdered; and Helen was your dear friend.”

“Yes, quite so,” said Gloria. “I... I was hoping to go to the funeral.”

“You could always use Basil’s wheelchair,” said Ida. “It’s been cleaned, after all.”

“I... I don’t need that much aid,” said Gloria. “Perhaps David will lend me the strength of his arm.”

“Not a good idea with the gossip rife in the village,” said Ida. “Admittedly, the village folk think that David is boffing Anna, but you know how they talk.”

“Excuse me, what is this?” asked the nurse.

“Oh, the gossip is that David pushed Helen downstairs, and you poisoned Basil so you could marry David,” said Ida. “Don’t pay any account to it; when I was ill, the story ran that I had been disappointed in love and tried to kill myself. You know how village people are.”

“It’s disgraceful and should not be allowed,” said Anna, in something close to a frightened screech. “It’s iniquitous that a nurse or doctor should have their reputation smirched and their character taken away like that!”

“Murder, unfortunately, entertains the masses, and they love to point fingers at the gentry,” said Alexander.

“But... but you have discovered surely that there was no murder? Helen must have just lost her balance!” said Anna. “I have no motive, I am out of a job. I do not want to marry David, not at all.”

“Good,” said David.

“I’m afraid the murder of Helen left clear marks,” said Alexander. “The implement with which she was hit still had blood on it, which has gone to Scotland Yard, and the bruise from it on her arm as she flung it up defensively is clear, including a faint trace of the pattern on it. But I am standing back until the funerals are over, to avoid causing any more anguish. I will be pleased to offer my arm to you, Miss Wandsworth, at the funeral, as I am known to be a friend of Basil’s.”

“So long as Ida isn’t jealous,” said David.

“Oh, not at all,” said Ida. “I recognise that Alex is chivalrous to all.”

“My dear! Not proper to use his first name,” said Miss Truckle. “Especially not shortened!”

“Yes, it is; he proposed, and I said ‘yes’,” said Ida. 

“Ida! You have not known him long...” tried Miss Truckle.

“No, but I have known him longer through Basil talking about him,” said Ida.

“Do you think it wise to throw yourself away on a policeman, even if he was gently born?” asked Gloria.

“Hardly throwing myself away,” said Ida. “You should look up the Armitages in Debrett’s. He’s descended from a Royal Duke.”

“Oh, bugger,” said Alexander. “I was keeping that quiet.”

“Well, well, you have done well for yourself, Ida,” said Gloria. “But you shouldn’t let him know that you know how cleverly you have wormed yourself into his affections. Nice for you not to be dependent on David any more.”

“I have a legacy that will see me through University so I wasn’t in the position of hanging on David’s sleeve; when I am twenty-one, the trust winds up, and I know how to be a careful housekeeper,” said Ida. “We didn’t have much in the way of disposable assets when I was keeping house for David and Basil while this house was being built, you know. It took years, and I was quite capable of producing good meals.”

“A great asset to a policeman who sometimes arrives home at most irregular hours, and sometimes with witnesses in semi-protective custody,” said Alexander. 

“And where is your ring?” asked Gloria.

“Still in Cartier’s,” said Alexander. “I know just the ring, by Oscar Heyman and brothers.”

There was a profound silence.

Gloria positively glared at Ida for attracting a man who thought nothing of buying a piece of one-off jewellery from such a prominent designer.

“So long as it’s pretty, I’d be happy with any ring,” said Ida.

“Easy to say,” said Gloria.

“They were scarcely known when I got engaged to Helen,” said David. “Naturally, I got her a good stone from Cartier’s.”

“And I am sure you will get as lovely a ring for any woman when you remarry,” said Gloria.

“I could not possibly consider remarrying, and I consider that remark in poor taste, Gloria!” snapped David. “My poor Helen is not even buried yet!”

“A rather premature conjecture,” murmured Alexander. “And considering the ill-natured gossip,  rather foolish, don’t you think?  Things like that could run David’s head into a noose, because enough gossip would have the Home Office feel they ought to prosecute, and evidence to the contrary of his guilt despite, juries have a bad habit of saying ‘no smoke without fire’ and convicting husbands of dead wives on statistical probability.”

“I would never have killed Helen, or even hit her,” said David, bewildered.

“And I know you’re totally innocent, from a number of clues,” said Alexander. “But any talk of remarrying, however much in jest Miss Wandsworth may have been, would be perceived in the village as certain proof that David was involved in her killing. And I only investigate crimes; I don’t have much say in court. I can present the evidence, and the jury can still choose to ignore me. Trial by jury is a great institution but the British public as a whole hate adultery.  And we all know David has not been adulterous, but if the newspapers became involved? He’d be prejudged and convicted.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Gloria, sulkily.

“No, no, of course not,” said David. “But do be careful!  Even Ida has more sense than that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of gossiping about you,” said Ida. “Partly, it’s your own fault, though, you won’t pass the time of day with the locals, so they don’t like you.  I chat in shops, so they like me. It’s how people work.”

“Humans are illogical creatures,” said Alexander, cheerfully. “Another game, David, before dinner?”

“Yes, splendid idea,” said David. “You’re good enough to keep me on my toes.”

Alexander sighed in relief; he had the formula to keeping David happy.

He would be glad to get away for a day or so when the funeral was over.

 

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.