‘I gather you two have been asking a few questions, m’lady,’ he said once he was comfortable.
‘Not nearly enough, it seems,’ said Lady Hardcastle, dejectedly. ‘I had such high hopes. I thought it was all going to be so easy. But since your visit on Monday we’ve managed to speak to just two witnesses. Or Armstrong did, at least, and they told us nothing much of interest. We wasted yesterday playing with my new crime board–’
‘Your what, m’lady?’ he interrupted.
‘Oh, yes, sorry. I’ll show you later. We also had a frankly bizarre luncheon with the victim’s employer which I thought was going to give us some important background but which actually turned out to be just a mediocre meal with some social-climbing snobs.’
‘My meal was excellent,’ I said, smugly.
‘Well, at least someone enjoyed herself,’ she said. ‘And here we are two days later, no nearer the truth and no idea where to go next.’
‘Ah,’ said Hancock, slightly uneasily. ‘Then my news won’t come too welcome.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘What’s happened?’
‘The coroner's court reconvened today, m’lady. The police surgeon’s evidence showed that Mr Pickering had been strangled first with something broad and soft, perhaps a scarf, and that the body had only then been hung up by the rope we found. Based on Dr Fitzsimmons’s measurements – whatever they might be – they put the time of death at around midnight. I’m still not quite certain how they knows that.’
‘Body temperature and the ambient temperature at the scene,’ Lady Hardcastle interrupted. ‘The body cools at a known rate once a person is dead so it’s possible to estimate how long ago that was. Then there’s rigor mortis, of course, but that doesn’t set in for about twelve hours. Since we found him the following morning, that wouldn’t have helped.’
Constable Hancock seemed impressed. ‘I knew you was the lady for the job. Anyway, they weighed all that up and brought a verdict of wilful murder. Inspector Sunderland has charged William Lovell and he’ll be up before the magistrate tomorrow. Most likely they’ll refer the case to the next assizes.’
‘And when are they?’
‘That’s the problem, m’lady. Assizes is nearly upon us. Judge is due on Monday and depending on how many cases there is, Bill might be up before him by the middle of next week.’
‘Oh dear lord,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘That poor man. And we’ve done nothing to help.’
‘Not exactly nothing,’ he said, trying his best to console her. ‘No one else was doing nothing at all. At least you tried to find out something.’
She sat a while in dejected thought but then snapped up, suddenly resolute. ‘Not “tried”, my dear constable, “are trying”. We’re not going to give up. He won’t be on trial for his life until the middle of next week and we’re going to find something. Armstrong, we’re redoubling our efforts.’
‘Yes, my lady,’ I said, pouring the tea.
‘Redoubling them,’ she said.
‘Consider them redoubled,’ I said, joining them at the table.
Constable Hancock was trying to suppress a smirk.
We sat quietly for a few moments.
‘We’re back to the beginning, then,’ I said at length.
‘We are. But perhaps that’s a good thing. Let’s get back properly to the beginning. Constable, would you care to accompany us to the dining room?’
‘Er, certainly, m’lady. Whatever you wish.’
I put the tea things onto a tray and followed the others through to the dining room.
‘You see, Constable,’ said Lady Hardcastle, indicating the blackboard, ‘this is my crime board. I thought it would help me think, but mostly it’s been a diverting way of procrastinating while I draw pictures.’
‘I see,’ said Hancock, closely examining the board and reading the notes. ‘Forgive me, m’lady, but why do you not have sketches of all the suspects?’
‘I’ve not met either of them. I don’t know what they look like.’
‘Either of them, m’lady? I counts three suspects.’
‘Three?’ she asked, somewhat perplexed.
‘I’d been wondering about that myself just this morning,’ I said. ‘Surely Daisy is a suspect, too. She has a quick temper and one could conceive of reason enough for her to want to do away with her unwanted suitor. Her reputation around the village is shaky enough without him causing trouble.’
‘I’m so stupid,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Of course she’s a suspect. Does she have a scarf?’
‘Most people have scarves, my lady,’ I said. ‘I don’t think we’re likely to get a fresh arrest based on ownership of a scarf.’
‘I suppose not,’ she said, defeatedly.
‘So that’s one more suspect for the board,’ said Hancock. ‘You haven’t spoken to Arthur Tressle, you say?’
‘No, we...’ she trailed off.
‘It hadn’t really occurred to us,’ I said. ‘Are we even allowed to speak to suspects?’
‘Not sure as he’s a suspect as far as the police is concerned, miss. You can talk to whoever you likes far as we’re minded.’
‘Then perhaps we should go round to him now,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Find out what his side of the story is. Where in the village does he live?’
Hancock chuckled. ‘He don’t live in the village, m’lady. He lives down in Bristol.’
‘Bristol?’ she exclaimed. ‘Doesn’t anyone involved in all this actually live here? I thought he played for the local cricket team.’
‘That he does, m’lady. He grew up round here, went to the village school over Woodworthy, but soon as he got hisself a job he moved down to the city. Been down there near ten years. He comes up here for cricket matches. Loyal to his old club, see. It was unusual for him to be in the village on a week night but they had their special club meeting or whatever it was.’
‘Do you have his address?’ she asked.
‘I’m sure I could find it for you, m’lady.’
‘Thank you, constable.’ She turned to me. ‘Is it worth speaking to Daisy again, do you think?’
‘Not unless you’ve got something solid to confront her with, my lady,’ I said. ‘Her “I a’n’t done nothing” routine is well rehearsed and very steadfast. She’d just irritate you, I think.’
‘Very well. Constable, you’ll get the address for Mr Tressle. Armstrong, you’ll take my note to The Grange asking Sir Hector if we can borrow his motor car and chauffeur to take us into Bristol. We must go this evening and catch Tressle after work, there’s no more time to waste.’
‘Yes, m’lady,’ Hancock and I said together. We laughed and got up from the table.
Sir Hector hadn’t been at home when I called but Lady Farley-Stroud had been only too delighted to oblige Lady Hardcastle with a car and driver once she read the note and realized what it was wanted for. Jenkins, their butler, had shown me to the garage where I waited beside the car for Bert, the chauffeur.