‘And did you come and go at all, sir?’
‘I… er… I left the room to…’ He looked around the room at Lady Hardcastle and me. ‘To… er… you know…’
‘“Use the facilities”, sir?’
‘Just that, Inspector.’
‘During the break?’
‘Yes. It seemed as good a time as any. It meant I’d not miss anything.’
‘And did you notice anything out of the ordinary while you were wandering about the house?’
‘I didn’t “wander”, Inspector. I went straight to the… er… you know… and came straight back.’
‘And you were there the rest of the evening?’
‘Yes. Sylvia usually starts the second set with “I Can’t Get Enough of You” and that just gets me hooked for the rest of the night.’
‘I see, sir. And can you remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary at all?’
‘Not at all, Inspector, no. As I say, it was quite a lively party and what with the wonderful music and the beautiful ladies–’ He leered at Lady Hardcastle again. ‘–I was quite distracted.’
Inspector Hardcastle finished making his notes. ‘Thank you, sir, you’ve been most helpful. I take it you’re staying at The Grange for a few more days?’
‘I’ve been invited till the weekend, yes.’
‘Very good, sir. If I need to ask you any further questions, I shall send for you.’
‘Right you are, Inspector. So may I go?’
‘You may indeed, sir. Thank you again for your time.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Haddock, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Inspector Sunderland made a few more notes and then looked up. ‘What did you make of that, my lady?’ he asked.
‘Aside from his being an oily tick, you mean?’ she said, disdainfully.
‘I called him that a few minutes ago,’ I said with a grin.
‘To his face, miss?’ said the inspector.
‘No, Inspector, though it shan’t be long before I do. I found him with Sir Hector, talking about some furniture outside the library and Sir Hector buttonholed me as Haddock set off for the library. Apparently Sir Hector isn’t impressed with Haddock’s knowledge of antiques and wondered if he’s a fraud or a swindler.’
‘Probably a little of both would be my guess,’ said the inspector. ‘I’ll cable Scotland Yard and see if they have anything on him.’
‘And that was when I passed my opinion of Haddock.’
‘And what was Sir Hector’s reaction?’ he said.
‘He laughed, of course.’
‘Yes, I suppose he would. Not the sort of thing he expected a respectable lady’s maid to be saying, I shouldn’t suppose.’
‘He’s known me a few months now, Inspector. I think he long since gave up any misconceptions about my respectability.’
It was the inspector’s turn to laugh. ‘I should imagine he did, miss, yes.’
Lady Hardcastle had a pensive look about her as she examined the links forming on the Crime Board. ‘Oily and shifty, then. And probably not quite as straight and above board as one might hope,’ she said. ‘And by his own admission he was out of the room during the time we surmise the murder might have been committed.’
‘And known to Mr Richman, too,’ said the inspector. ‘That might lead us somewhere. He was lurking about during that time, too.’
He took a handsome pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at it.
‘I imagine this is the sort of place that serves tea at four o’clock,’ he said.
‘On the dot,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And if I know Sir Hector, he’ll still call it “Tiffin”.’
The inspector sighed. ‘It’s another world. And that means that most of the house guests will be occupied.’ He consulted his notes. ‘Let’s see if we can find someone else from the band, then. How about the bass player, Mr Bartholomew Dunn.’
‘Why not indeed,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Do the honours, Flo, would you, dear?’
I got up and went in search of Mr Dunn.
I found Dunn at the foot of the servants’ staircase chatting up Dora, the housemaid. He was stroking her hair with the side of his index finger and she was giggling coquettishly when I breezed up and said, ‘Afternoon, chaps. How are we all getting along.’
Dora glared at me. ‘We were getting along just fine, thank you.’
‘Glad to hear it. Mr Dunn? Inspector Sunderland would like a word with you in the dining room if you can spare him a few moments.’
Dora’s look suggested that she had much more entertaining ideas for Dunn’s next few moments and that if I were to fall down dead there and then, she’d not waste even one of those precious moments mourning my parting. Dunn, though, was evidently a more pragmatic man who recognized that a summons from the police, even one expressed with such casual politeness, couldn’t be ignored. He also seemed confident, as he tenderly kissed her cheek, that he would be able to reignite Dora’s passions as soon as he’d finished with this Inspector Sunderland, whoever he turned out to be.
‘I’ll find you the instant I’ve finished with him,’ he whispered.
Dora looked at me again, a smug grin replacing the angry glare.
‘You’d better,’ she said, and set off upstairs.
He watched her go and then turned to look at me. ‘The dining room, you say? Would you be a poppet and show me the way? I’m new round here.’
‘New round here, but pretty experienced everywhere else, from the look of things,’ I said. ‘Follow me.’
He chuckled and I led him through the house to the dining room.
We found Lady Hardcastle and the inspector deep in conversation, but they stopped abruptly as we entered. After the usual introductions and the usual preamble, there followed the usual series of questions about the events of the evening which elicited the usual, “I didn’t really notice anything. It was a party. Parties are busy places.” It was apparent, though, that Dunn was quite a sociable sort of a chap and Inspector Sunderland decided to exploit this as he moved onto more personal matters.
‘Tell me a little more about the band, Mr Dunn. Paint me a picture of the characters.’
‘Blimey, really? Well, there’s Rolie, of course, Roland Richman, our beloved leader. He’s a pretty decent musician as it happens, and he’s got very strong ideas about where he wants the band to go. Ambitious, you know? He’s quite a sharp businessman, too, for a musician. We never lack for work and we always seem to get paid. I’ve been in plenty of bands where neither of those were true. Then there was Nelse. Nice chap. Easy going, if a little easily led. Beautiful tone to his playing, too. Trumpets can be a bit brash in the wrong hands, but he had a delicate touch. He could make it cry if he wanted to. We used to have a fiddle player, but there was a falling out and it turned out we didn’t need him anyway – Nelse covered that side of things beautifully. We missed him in the second set. I suppose we’ll be missing him for always now.’ He lapsed into silence.
‘You seem very fond of him,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘I’m fond of them all, my love,’ he said. ‘Skins is quite a lad.’