‘I revealed that I’d spent some time in India “alone” after my husband had died. He couldn’t quite grasp how a lady might do such a thing.’
‘Plenty of ladies end up coping on their own in India after their husbands die,’ said the Inspector, somewhat puzzled.
‘But my husband died in China and I made my own way to India with Armstrong. And then stayed for a couple of years.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Out of the ordinary, but hardly outrageous.’
‘Not to Captain Summers. He very quickly found someone else to badger. Which actually turned out to be a shame because that left an opening for Sir Hector to bring a rather unpleasant man over. An antiques dealer of some sort.’
Inspector Sunderland flicked back a few pages in his notebook. ‘Mr Clifford Haddock,’ he said. ‘I’ve already wired Scotland Yard about him. He seems like a very fishy character.’ He seemed very pleased with his own joke.
‘Well, quite,’ said Lady Hardcastle, raising an eyebrow. ‘Then I sent Armstrong off for booze – the fizzy wine was quite undrinkable – and after that things got a great deal more merry. I ended up holding court with the youngsters and impressing them with my tales of derring do from Shanghai to Calcutta. Then Armstrong found me and, strongly implying that I was brandified, took me home.’
‘You were sloshed, my lady,’ I said.
‘I was, as you say, all mops and brooms, but it’s indelicate of you to point it out to the inspector.’
‘It shall go no further,’ said the inspector with a smile.
‘You’re most kind,’ she said. ‘And that was my evening.’
‘Did you notice any unusual comings and goings at around the time Mr Nelson disappeared?’
‘No, Inspector, I’m afraid not. It wasn’t the liveliest of parties, but it was a party nonetheless and people were coming and going all the time.’
‘Yes, that’s the problem,’ he said, finishing off his notes. ‘And you, Miss Armstrong, what did you see?’
I recounted the events of my own evening and was describing my meeting with Sylvia Montgomery.
‘Miss Montgomery was coming out of the library as you were on your quest for brandy?’ asked the inspector.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘So this was during the break?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I think the band was still playing.’
‘There were some instrumental numbers, I think,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Perhaps it was during one of those?’
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Do you remember the time of this meeting?’
‘I’m sorry, Inspector, I never wear a watch. I have no idea.’
‘No matter. Please continue.’
I told him about my meeting with the tipsy Maud Denton.
‘The lazy maid,’ said the inspector. ‘I’m so sorry, I meant to say lady’s maid. What was I thinking?’
I laughed and continued. I described my sneaking back to the party with the illicit brandy and how I’d had to hide to avoid being seen by someone who was going into the library.
‘Did you see this person?’ asked the inspector.
‘No, I just heard the door closing. When I peeked round the corner again there was no one in sight so I presumed they’d gone in rather than coming out.’
‘Could it have been Mr Nelson?’
‘No, the band was still playing when I got back to the ballroom and it was only after that that Mr Nelson slipped away and Miss Montgomery came over to ask about the scotch.’
‘Interesting. So that could have been our man,’ mused the inspector.
‘Or woman,’ said Lady Hardcastle quickly.
‘True, true. Though a man is more likely to clout someone round the back of the head with something heavy. A woman would like as not try to talk her way out of it.’
‘Have you met Armstrong?’ she asked with a smile.
He turned to me. ‘Your reputation precedes you, miss, but from what I hear you’d not need a heavy object to render someone unconscious.’
‘No, Inspector. And he’d be able to get up and walk away with a headache when he woke up, too. It shows a considerable lack of skill to kill someone by accident when there are so many effective ways of simply incapacitating them.’
He looked faintly disquieted but carried on. ‘And what happened when you returned to the ballroom?’
I told the tale of the rest of my evening but there was little else of any substance to offer him.
‘Did no one go into the library while you were tidying up?’ he asked when I had finished.
‘No, we were told not to bother with it because the band members were still using it. That’s why Dora was in there first thing, it was to be her job to get the room back in order before the band rose and came in to pack up their things.’
‘They didn’t pack up at the end of the party?’
‘No, they finished their performance and left their instruments on the little stage. I didn’t see what happened to them after that.’
‘They cadged some booze from Miss Clarissa and went off to the rooms that had been set aside for them in the attic,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘Without looking for their friend,’ said the inspector. ‘They’re a strange lot.’
‘Oh, I think they wanted to. The one they called Skins was very keen to search for him, but Richman very firmly told him no and he seemed to drop it.’
‘Skins... Skins...’ said the inspector, leafing through his notebook again. ‘Ah yes, Ivor “Skins” Maloney. The drummer. “Skins”?’
‘Drum skins, one imagines,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s calfskin, I believe, scraped very thin and stretched very tight.’
‘Is it? Is it indeed? Well I count it a poor day indeed if I don’t learn at least one new thing, so today is looking up already. So Richman said no, eh? Very interesting.’ He sat for a few moments reviewing his notes. ‘Well, my lady, Miss Armstrong, thank you for your help. I’m going to have to give this one some serious thought. I just can’t seem to get the timings straight. People seem to be in and out of the ballroom, and in and out of that damn library, but no one seems to know when anything happened.’
‘It’s almost as though they didn’t expect to be witnesses in a murder investigation,’ said Lady Hardcastle, dryly.
‘You’re right, my lady, of course. Heigh ho,’ he said, snapping the little notebook shut. ‘I shall have to think of some way of making sense of it all.’
‘Might I suggest a little trick I’ve been using,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I call it my “Crime Board”,’ and she went on to describe her use of the large blackboard in our previous investigations.
Bert and a footman called Dewi (who swore continually and colourfully under his breath in Welsh and didn’t think anyone could understand him) had been called upon to bring down a blackboard and easel from the nursery and set it up in the large dining room which Inspector Sunderland had adopted as his base of operations. Meanwhile, Lady Hardcastle had been sketching guests and we’d both been trying to recall any details of the previous evening which might be helpful.