‘It was you who saw her, lying in the hall.’
Brent nodded. ‘I was doing the borders next to the front door. I looked in the window and there she was, lying at the bottom of the stairs.’
‘You heard nothing?’
‘There was nothing to hear. She was dead.’
‘And there was nobody else in the house.’
‘I didn’t see anyone. There could have been, I suppose. But I was there a few hours and I didn’t see anyone come out.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I tapped on the window to see if she’d wake up but she wasn’t moving so in the end I went to the stable and used the outside phone to call Dr Redwing. She made me break the glass in the back door. Sir Magnus wasn’t happy about that. In fact, he blamed me for the break-in that happened later on. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want to break anything. I just did what I was told.’
‘You argued with Sir Magnus?’
‘No, sir. I wouldn’t do that. But he wasn’t pleased and when he wasn’t pleased you’d better keep clear, I can tell you.’
‘You were here the evening that Sir Magnus died.’
‘I’m here every evening. At this time of the year, I never get away much before eight o’clock and it was about eight fifteen that night – not that I get paid any extra.’ It was strange but the more Brent spoke, the more eloquent he became. ‘He and Lady Pye weren’t keen to put their hands in their pockets. He was on his own that night. She was up in London. I saw him working late. There was a light on in the study and he must have been expecting someone because there was a visitor who arrived just as I left.’
Brent had already mentioned this to Detective Inspector Chubb. Unfortunately, he had been unable to provide a description of the mysterious arrival. ‘I understand you did not manage to see his face,’ Pünd said.
‘I didn’t see him. I didn’t recognise him. But later on, when I thought about it, I knew who he was.’ The announcement came as a surprise to Pünd who waited for the groundsman to continue. ‘He was at the funeral. When they buried Mrs Blakiston, he was there. I knew I’d seen him before. I noticed him standing at the back of the crowd – but at the same time I hardly noticed him, if you know what I mean. He kept himself to himself, like he didn’t want to be noticed, and I never saw his face. But I know it was the same man. I’m sure it was the same man – on account of the hat.’
‘He was wearing a hat?’
‘That’s right. It was one of those old-fashioned hats, like they had ten years ago, pulled down low over his face. The man who came to Pye Hall at eight fifteen, he was the same man. I’m sure of it.’
‘Can you tell me anything more about him? His age? His height?’
‘He wore a hat. That’s all I can tell you. He was here. He didn’t talk to anyone. And then he left.’
‘What happened when he came to the house?’
‘I didn’t wait to see. I went down to the Ferryman for a pie and a pint. I had a bit of money in my pocket, what Mr Whitehead gave me, and I couldn’t wait to be on my way.’
‘Mr Whitehead. He owns the antique shop—’
‘What about him?’ Brent’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
‘He paid you some money.’
‘I never said that!’ Brent realised he had spoken too freely and searched for a way out. ‘He’d paid me the fiver that he owed me. That’s all. So I went for a pint.’
Pünd let the matter drop. It would be all too easy to offend a man like Brent and, once offended, he wouldn’t utter another word. ‘So you left Pye Hall at around a quarter past eight,’ he said. ‘That might have been only a matter of minutes before Sir Magnus was killed. I wonder if you can explain to us a handprint that we discovered in the flower bed beside the front door?’
‘That police chap asked me about that and I already told him. It wasn’t my handprint. What would I be doing sticking my hand in the soil?’ He gave a queer sort of smile.
Pünd tried another tack. ‘Did you see anyone else?’
‘As a matter of fact, I did.’ Brent glanced slyly at the detective and his assistant. All this time he had been holding the cigarette he had rolled but now he stuck it between his lips and lit it. ‘I went down the Ferryman like I told you. And I was on my way when I run into Mrs Osborne, the vicar’s wife. God knows what she’s doing out in the middle of the night – and looking like nobody’s business too. Anyway, she asked if I’d seen her husband. She was upset about something. Maybe even afraid. You should have seen the look on her face! Well, I told her it might have been him I’d seen at Pye Hall and the fact is he might have been there and all …’
Pünd frowned. ‘The person you saw at the hall, the man in the hat, you said just now that he was at the funeral.’
‘I know I said that, sir. But they were both there, him and the vicar. You see, I was having my pint and I saw the vicar go past on his bicycle. That was a while later.’
‘How much later?’
‘Thirty minutes. Maybe an hour. I heard it go past. You can hear that bicycle from one end of the village to the other with its clacking and its grinding and it definitely went past the pub while I was in there. And where could he have come from except from the hall? He certainly hadn’t cycled from Bath.’ Brent eyed the detective over his cigarette, daring him to disagree.
‘You have been very helpful,’ Pünd said. ‘I have just one more question. It relates to the Lodge where Mrs Blakiston lived. You mentioned to me that you occasionally did work for her there and I wonder if you might have a key?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because I would like to go in.’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ the groundsman muttered. He screwed the cigarette round between his lips. ‘You want to go in, you’d best talk to Lady Pye.’
‘This is a police investigation,’ Fraser cut in. ‘We can go where we like and it might mean trouble for you if you don’t co-operate.’
Brent looked doubtful but he wasn’t prepared to argue. ‘I can take you up there now.’ He nodded his head at the roses. ‘But then I’ve got to get back to these.’
Pünd and Fraser followed Brent back to the stable from where he retrieved a key attached to a large piece of wood, then walked with him down the drive to the Lodge House that stood at the end, two storeys high with sloping roofs, a massive chimney, Georgian windows and a solid front door. This was where Mary Blakiston had lived while she was working as Sir Magnus Pye’s housekeeper. To begin with there had been a husband and two boys but one by one the family had left her until she was finally alone. Perhaps it was the position of the sun or the oaks and elms that surrounded the place but it seemed to be cast in permanent shadow. It was obviously empty. It looked and felt deserted.
Brent opened the front door with the key he had retrieved. ‘Do you want me to come in?’ he asked.