He closed the door behind him.
‘Of all the uppity, stuck-up, hoity-toity...’ said the inspector, viciously.
‘Oh, come now, Inspector,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘He’s just a little old fashioned.’
‘I ask him to help a girl in distress and he’s looking down his nose, you ask him to run around and bring you coffee and sandwiches and he almost trips over his shoes in his haste.’
‘It’s the accent and the title, dear boy,’ she said with a wink, and he harrumphed to indicate that she had entirely proven his point. ‘Oh, and...’ she glanced down at her ample chest.
The inspector blushed the deepest scarlet and hastened from the room. I tried not to laugh and embarrass the poor man still further.
‘You, my lady, are going straight to Hell,’ I said as I followed him. She grinned.
We entered the dining room to find a bewildered Captain Summers looking forlornly at the empty sideboard.
‘What ho,’ he said, breezily. ‘I seem to be a bit late for breakfast, what?’
‘A little, sir,’ said the inspector with a smile, his embarrassment almost forgotten. ‘It’s very nearly lunchtime. And you are...?’
‘I might ask you the same question, sir,’ said Summers pompously, eyeing the inspector’s neat but unfashionable suit disdainfully.
‘I do beg your pardon,’ said the inspector. ‘Inspector Sunderland of the Bristol CID.’
‘CID, eh? Detective, eh? What are you detectin’?’
‘There’s been a murder, Mister...?’
‘Captain. Captain Summers.’ His face had whitened. ‘A murder?’
‘Yes, sir, last evening at the party. Are you quite well, sir? Do you think you ought to sit down?’
‘I... er... yes. Do you mind, my lady?’ He looked over towards Lady Hardcastle. ‘I feel a little queer.’ He sat on one of the dining chairs, still looking very pale. ‘Funny how a chap can spend his life fighting for King and country – Queen and country, too, come to that – seeing death and carnage all around, and then be knocked for six by a death in the house. It was in the house, Inspector?’
‘It was, sir, yes.’
‘Good lord, not in here?’
‘No, sir, in the library.’
‘I see, I see.’ He looked around, still somewhat befuddled. ‘Who was it?’
‘One of the musicians, sir,’ said the inspector. ‘Mr Nelson Holloway, the trumpeter with the band.’
‘Good lord. Music wallah, eh? They were good. I mean, that’s what everyone kept telling me. Not entirely my cup of char, if I’m completely honest with you, but... I mean... a chap doesn’t deserve to die for playing American music.’
‘I don’t think he was killed by a music critic, sir. It’s almost certain it was a robbery.’
‘A robbery? Good lord. Good lord. What would a trumpeter have worth stealing?’
‘That’s precisely what we’re currently wondering, sir. Did you see anything last evening? Anything that might help us piece together what happened?’
‘“Us”?’ he said, looking around at Lady Hardcastle and me.
‘I meant the Police Force, sir, but yes, Lady Hardcastle and Miss Armstrong are helping me.’
Captain Summers looked blankly at us. ‘Helping?’
‘Yes, sir. They’re by way of being amateur detectives. They have an enviable record of success around these parts. We shall be working together.’
‘I see. I see. Jolly good.’
‘Would you mind telling us about last evening, sir? Did you see or hear anything unusual, for instance?’
‘Not a thing, Inspector, no.’
‘Perhaps you could take us through the evening as you remember it?’
‘Of course, of course. I’d been staying at The Grange for a couple of days, d’you see. Friend of Sir Hector. So I was one of the first at the party. Bit early for my taste, but I tried not to fuss. So many things have changed here since I’ve been away.’
‘Here, sir? You’ve been to The Grange before.’
‘No, I mean yes, I have, but I meant Blighty. Gone to the dogs if you ask me. But there I was, best bib and tucker–’
‘Military dress, sir?’
‘What? No, mess jacket still in India. Travelling light, what? Be back there soon. No point hauling all me traps halfway round the world then hauling them all the way back.’
‘Quite, sir. Please, continue. What did you do?’
‘I was trying to circulate, do the sociable thing, what? Trying to get back into the swing of it all. Society, and all that. Hoping to be married soon, want to start a new life back in Blighty in a year or two. Doesn’t hurt to make a few friends.’
‘Oh, congratulations, sir,’ said the inspector, amiably. ‘Who’s the lucky lady?’
Captain Summers smiled ruefully. ‘There’s the rub, what? Not quite asked her yet. Colonel’s daughter and all that. Got to play it a bit carefully, what? Need to woo her. Impress her, what? Can’t rush at these things like a bull at a gate.’
‘I see, sir, yes. Were you in the ballroom all evening? You didn’t nip out for some fresh air?’
‘Can’t say as I did, no.’
‘And did you notice any of the other comings and goings? Did anything strike you as odd?’
‘Not really, Inspector. Folk come and go all evening at a shindig like that.’
‘Did you see Mr Holloway leave the room?’
‘The dead chap?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Can’t say as I did.’
‘So you wouldn’t have noticed, say, if someone followed him out?’
‘No, Inspector, not at all. I’m not really much help, I’m afraid, am I?’
‘Everything is helpful in an investigation like this, sir,’ said the inspector, patiently. ‘I can see you’ve had a shock, though, so I shan’t detain you further. Thank you for your time.’
‘Free to go, what?’
Inspector Sunderland laughed. ‘Free to go, sir. Although I should be obliged if you were to stay at The Grange until this is cleared up. We may need to ask you some further questions when we know a little more about the events of the evening. We might be able to jog your memory a little.’
‘Certainly, Inspector, certainly.’ He stood to leave. ‘Lady Hardcastle,’ he said with a bow, and walked round the table to the door.
As he closed the door behind him, Inspector Sunderland rolled his eyes. ‘What a buffle-headed ass,’ he said. ‘Nice to see the Empire is in the hands of such bright and brave individuals.’
‘He’d had a shock,’ said Lady Hardcastle reproachfully.
‘A shock, my Aunt Fanny. Man’s a soldier; he’s seen death before. Said so himself.’
‘Maybe so. But as a friend of mine pointed out not so long ago, there’s a difference between chaps dressed up as the enemy pointing their guns – or spears, or what have you – at you across a battlefield, and some ne’er-do-well sneaking about in the night doing folk to death in an English village.’
‘You’re right, of course, my lady. I shouldn’t be so harsh. But the man’s a buffoon.’