Death around the Bend (Lady Hardcastle Mysteries #3)

‘Hmm, yes,’ I said. ‘I suppose I was. And what about “Uncle Algy”, Mr Simkin? Has he said anything?’

Mr Simkin chuckled. ‘Sir Algernon is an uncomplicated man, Miss Armstrong. As long as he has access to regular meals, a supply of decent claret, and young, amusing company, he is happy to let the world get about its business without his interference. He was saddened by the death of Mr Dawkins, with whom he had enjoyed several boozy evenings, but a gentleman of his age has known much death, and he isn’t dwelling upon it. He did say that it was bound to happen sooner or later – he is unconvinced of the safety of motor cars in general.’

So much for that line of questioning, then.

‘But what have you discovered, Miss Armstrong?’ asked Miss Perrin. ‘Where have your investigations taken you?’

I recounted my earlier conversation with Lady Hardcastle, during which we had run through all the people who had been in the house on the night of the sabotage. There were murmurs of agreement when I got to the part about Herr Kovacs.

‘I never trusted him,’ said Miss Perrin. ‘You can’t trust the Germans.’

‘Actually,’ I said, ‘he’s Hungarian.’

‘They’re all the same,’ she said adamantly.

‘Well, I’ve got young Evan Gudger doing some snooping for me. He’s looking after both Herr Kovacs and Mr Waterford, I believe.’

‘You’ve done what?’ said Mr Chanley, almost choking on his tea. ‘That little . . .’

‘That young man is rude, ill-disciplined, ungrateful, lazy, and will almost certainly fall into a life of viciousness and petty crime if he doesn’t mend his ways,’ I said. ‘But he’ll be breaking the rules and thumbing his nose at authority by working for me, and I happen to think he’ll be rather good at it.’

‘I don’t fancy your luck at all,’ said Mr Chanley, but I saw a sly grin on Mr Simkin’s face and a twinkle in his watery old eyes that gave me to believe that he, at least, agreed with me.



Having dutifully played my part in the serving of afternoon tea, and having heard nothing of any consequence in any of the many conversations I overheard, I had returned to Lady Hardcastle’s room. To be clear, it wasn’t just that I had heard nothing that had any bearing on the mystery, I had heard nothing of any consequence whatsoever. Sometimes large groups of people can talk for hours without sharing any news, views, or information of any kind, and so it was with the houseguests that afternoon. Many words were spoken, many laughs were laughed, but very few thoughts seemed to pass across the minds of any of the participants.

I was laying out an evening gown for Lady Hardcastle when the lady herself returned.

‘What ho, Flo,’ she said, crossing the room to sit at the writing desk.

‘Welcome back, my lady,’ I said. ‘Did you enjoy tea?’

‘It was frightfully jolly, wasn’t it? But I confess to feeling positively whale-like with all this eating.’

‘We could arrange some calisthenics, if that would help. I’m sure the other guests would welcome the chance for some healthy exercise. I packed you some suitable clothes.’

‘I’m sure you did. But no, I think I can best recover my poise by sitting quietly for a moment.’

‘As you wish, my lady, but the offer’s there.’

‘You’re very kind,’ she said. ‘What news from the netherworld?’

‘Not much progress, I’m afraid. I tried to natter with Mrs McLelland, but she was a little out of sorts, so I tracked down Evan Gudger and recruited him to the cause.’

‘Oh, I say, well done. Do you think we can trust him?’

‘No.’

‘Rely on him in any way?’

‘Almost certainly not.’

‘Can we do any better?’

‘I’m not sure we can, my lady, but we can hope for the best. There’s not much damage he can do, though. Even if he decides to turn the opportunity towards mischief, we’re alert to the possibility that he’s not playing with a straight bat after all.’

‘I shall leave his management entirely in your capable hands, dear,’ she said. ‘Did you manage to beard anyone else?’

‘I also spoke to the personal servants – Lady Lavinia’s lady’s maid, as well as Lord Riddlethorpe’s and Sir Algernon’s valets.’

‘And what did they have to say for themselves?’

I briefly recounted our conversation while I hunted for a pair of evening shoes.

‘Nothing much, then,’ she said.

‘Not a great deal, my lady, no. But at least they’re on our side now.’

‘Unless one of their employers is the guilty one. Now that you’ve tipped our hand, they’ll be running back to their master or mistress to tell them how best to avoid our suspicions.’

‘I take your point,’ I said. ‘But from the look of them, none of them is in much of a position to be running anywhere. I think even a brisk stroll would do for old Arnold Simkin.’

She laughed. ‘I believe I’ve seen him wheezing about the place.’

‘So there we are, my lady. Unless you’ve come across any clues, I rather fear we’re stumped.’

‘Clues, yes,’ she mused. ‘It’s about now when we could do with coming across the distinctive prints of the culprit’s shoe, set about with the ash of a brand of cigarette sold only in a single shop in Riddlethorpe, of which we alone are aware.’

‘Perhaps there might be mud that we could identify as being unique to a particular area of that town.’

‘And a torn thread from a coat worn only by members of a now-disbanded Indian regiment.’

‘We’ve got a pair of pliers, my lady,’ I said.

‘That’s pretty much it, though, isn’t it,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Ah well, perhaps our snoop will come up with something after all.’

‘Perhaps, my lady. Shall I draw you a bath?’

‘Would you? That would be splendid. Are you serving at dinner this evening?’

‘No, Mr Spinney has rearranged the roster, and I’m doing breakfast instead. I shall be dining in my room with Betty.’

‘Oh, that’ll be nice. I like her.’

‘I do, too.’

‘Well, if you give me a hand to get ready, you can toddle off to your garret.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, and began to draw her bath.



By the time Lady Hardcastle was ready to set off for the library, I was more than ready for a break. She was never an especially demanding employer, and I treasured her company, but the four or five daily changes of clothes required during a country house stay became less and less fun as the visit went on. My final task for the day was to remind her where she had left her lorgnette (hanging by a long chain around her neck), and then I was free to trot up the back stairs to the attic room and flop on to my bed.

I had just picked up The Time Machine when there was a timid knock at the door. Betty’s face peered round it as it opened.

‘Betty, this is your room; you don’t have to knock.’

‘I know, dear, but I’ve never quite been able to work out the etiquette of sharing a room with a stranger.’

‘Then let us declare ourselves no longer strangers so that you can bloomin’ well relax and feel free to come and go as you normally would.’