The Missing Diamond Murder Read online

  ‘What about your uncle Charles? You said he got back to the house ahead of you.’

  ‘He’d already gone off for a walk by the time we went to play tennis.’

  ‘A walk? On his own?’

  ‘Yes. He said that sitting about wasn’t good for his digestion.’

  Fran made a swift note on her pad.

  ‘The four of us got to the court and started to play. I don’t think we’d played much more than a couple of games by the time Hen and Roly joined us. Dolly arrived last. Dolly was a bit odd, actually.’ He hesitated.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, Dolly is a pretty hopeless player. Serves underarm and mostly just flails at the ball. It’s very much hit and hope for the best. I partnered her because I know she gets on Hen’s nerves dreadfully. Usually she just bumbles along and laughs at herself and gets the score all wrong, but that afternoon, not long after she’d joined us, she missed a ball and when she went over to pick it up, instead of tossing it back to me so that I could serve again, she thrashed the ball away into the bushes. Then, when she turned to face me, she was quite red in the face and I thought she was about to cry.’

  ‘I suppose it can get very frustrating, playing with a lot of people who are better than you.’

  ‘The thing is I don’t believe it was anything to do with the game at all. Dolly doesn’t care a fig about the game or how bad she is. She’s not competitive like Hen. It’s just a way of passing the time to her. I’m sure it was something else. To tell the truth, I wondered if she and Uncle Charles had had a row.’

  ‘And have you any idea whether they had?’

  ‘Well, nothing happened on the beach so far as I’m aware, but it did seem a bit funny, him going off like that for a walk on his own and later on, that evening, things seemed to be a bit frosty between them.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘There was nothing specific. It was just a feeling I had.’

  ‘So … if I’ve got this right, the people who stayed on the beach right up until teatime were Mellie, Imogen, Miss Billington, Cecilia and the two Baddeley children.’

  ‘That sounds about right.’

  ‘Did the Baddeley children stay for tea?’

  ‘No, they must have walked home. The footpath leading back to their place goes up through the western coppice, so they don’t need to come past the house.’

  ‘So everyone had their tea …’ Fran prompted.

  ‘Some people were lingering outside. It was still gloriously warm and no one was in a rush because we never dress for dinner in high summer if it’s only family. I remember someone asking if it wasn’t time for cocktails and Hen saying that it was never too early, and just then Grandfather’s nurse appeared and of course that put paid to any talk of cocktails for the rest of the evening.’

  ‘This nurse, Monica Roche. You say that it was her afternoon off?’

  ‘That’s right. She went off-duty at one. She was asked about all that at the inquest of course. Apparently Grandfather was eating his lunch when she left. He’d been grumbling a bit, she said, but he did sometimes complain – mostly about trivial things – particularly towards the end. Apart from the grumbling – which wasn’t really out of the ordinary – he was just as usual.’

  ‘Do we know where the nurse went, or how she spent her afternoon?’

  ‘We do. As I mentioned before, we’re a bit out of the way here, and when she first came to us, sometimes Monica didn’t go anywhere on her half day. She would just have a stroll around the grounds or take her book into a quiet part of the garden. But I gather that when she was down in Frencombe on one occasion she bumped into the Baddeleys’ chauffeur, Moncrieff, and they seem to have become friendly and got into the habit of spending some of their afternoons off together. Moncrieff’s a thoroughly reliable sort – he’d been with the Baddeleys for years and years. In fact, I believe that he’d been working for them for a long time before we came here. He’s retired now, but I understand they’re letting him have a cottage on the estate. Hen seemed to be under the impression that there might have been some sort of romance in the air between him and Monica, but if there ever was – which I doubt – then nothing came of it. Anyway, the point is that this chap, Moncrieff, was sometimes allowed the use of Colonel Baddeley’s motor, and on this particular afternoon he’d picked Monica up and taken her for a spin along the coast road. Afterwards they had tea at the Palace Hotel in Torquay. It was all above board. He had the colonel’s permission to use the car and I believe the police confirmed that they’d been seen by the staff at the Palace. It’s quite a pricey sort of place for a chauffeur to take a lady friend, which is probably why Hen dreamed up a possible love affair. I never saw Monica as the romantic type myself – she was a confirmed spinster, in my opinion – so I think it was probably just that they fancied a bit of a treat and decided to splash out. Anyway, Moncrieff dropped her back here at just before six p.m.’

  ‘And I suppose she must have gone to her room, removed her hat, probably changed her shoes and come straight back downstairs?’

  ‘And found the old man gone.’

  TEN

  Fran stood considering her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. Her dress, loaned by Henrietta, was a pink silk number, the colour of old-fashioned roses, made up in a loose-fitting, drop-waisted style, and it therefore worked perfectly, falling just a little lower down her calves than it would have done on its owner. Luckily she had brought a string of pearls, and with her hair brushed and her lipstick applied she decided that she looked ‘not half bad’, as Mo would have said.

  The plain gold band on her wedding finger caught her eye. If everything went through smoothly, she would soon be granted her decree nisi, with the decree absolute following before the year was out. She would still call herself Mrs Black, she supposed, but she would not be married. It already felt vaguely wrong to be wearing Michael’s ring. With her right finger and thumb, she eased it up as far as her nail, but the finger looked oddly naked without it, so she slid it back into position for the time being. Anyway, it might jinx things if she jumped the gun.

  She had spent a good deal of the afternoon quizzing the Edgertons’ various household servants and was rather afraid that she in turn would be quizzed over dinner about what she had found out (which was very little), so she was very relieved when she joined her hosts for cocktails, to find the talk was mostly of plays and musical entertainments, and the unlikely suggestion reported in the newspaper that there might soon be a tunnel linking England to France. Dinner passed off in the same easy manner and when they eventually withdrew into the drawing room, Lady Louisa was persuaded to play for them, which she did with considerable skill, offering them some Chopin, Bach and then the lovely Salut D’Amor.

  ‘And now,’ Lady Louisa said, when they had applauded her final effort, ‘I am leaving you young people to your own devices. Come along, Eddie, it’s your turn now.’

  ‘Mother can’t bear jazz,’ Eddie confided to Fran as he took his mother’s place on the piano stool.

  ‘Since there are four of us,’ said Mellie, ‘why don’t we roll back the rug and dance? You do like to dance, don’t you, Fran?’

  Fran confirmed that she did and noted, from the alacrity with which Roly and Hen exposed the parquet floor, that this must be a regular pastime at Sunnyside House. Like his mother, Eddie proved to be a talented pianist, belting out a series of jolly ragtime numbers, while his brother took turns to partner his wife, sister and their guest, while the two spare women danced together. Sometimes Eddie sang along, sounding, Fran thought, surprisingly professional and when the dancers ran out of energy, he continued to entertain them for some time, working through a wide repertoire of popular music, as well as some less well-known jazz and blues numbers, all played flawlessly by ear.

  Only as they were on the point of parting for bed did anyone mention the purpose behind Fran’s visit, when Mellie said, ‘Eddie says we are not to bother you, and to let you get on with the investigat
ion in your own way, but I just wanted to let you know that if I am needed for – well – questioning, I suppose, it would be much better if we could get it done in the morning as I have an appointment with my hairdresser tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Thank you for letting me know,’ Fran said. ‘I will need to speak to everyone, of course. Perhaps if we were to meet in the library, immediately after breakfast?’

  ‘Splendid,’ said Mellie. ‘That’s settled then. Do sleep well, won’t you. People mostly do here. It’s a lovely peaceful house at night.’

  Up in her bedroom Fran found that, just as had happened the night before, someone had been in to turn down the bed and lay out her nightgown. The modern electric bulbs in the bedside lights were shrouded by cream shades that wreathed everything in a warm, steady light, quite different to the spooky undulating shadows made by the candles one found in many homes. Mellie was right, Fran thought. The earlier, slightly frenetic energy of the drawing room had been overtaken by a sense of tranquillity and peace. It was rather hard to believe that something as nasty as the murder of an elderly man, confined to a wheelchair, might have intruded into this place.

  She removed the borrowed dress and hung it in the wardrobe, among half a dozen other gowns, which Henrietta had generously provided from her own bulging closets. Some people would have made one feel like a poor relation, Fran thought, but Henrietta had affected to believe that Fran had simply travelled light, rather than that she was not the sort of woman who possessed a different evening frock for every day of the week. Tomorrow night she might wear the dark green velvet … or perhaps the black taffeta …

  She pulled herself together firmly. She really must not forget the real reason she was here. Who had taken that diamond? How had Frederick Edgerton ended up dead at the bottom of the cliffs? Were the Edgertons really as nice as they seemed? Then again, why would they have invited her at all if one of their number was guilty? Perhaps she needed to look beyond the immediate family for her suspects? In the past, she had always had Tom or Mo, and often both of them, available to chew things over and discuss possible clues, but Mo was in Malaya and Tom was just as far out of bounds in a way. She realized that she had been having such fun she had hardly thought about either of them all evening. Perhaps Tom had been right to insist that she come down here after all.

  ELEVEN

  Mellie sat neatly on one of the library chairs, back straight, knees and ankles together, looking so much as though she were about to be interviewed for a responsible post as a governess, that Fran almost felt like asking if she had brought references. Instead she began by saying, ‘Just so that I can get a little bit of context, can you tell me how long you have known the Edgerton family and how long you have been married to Roly?’

  ‘Of course.’ Mellie’s face broke into a warm smile, as if she was relieved at the simple nature of the question. ‘I first met Roly at a dance given by the Bruce-Forsters. I had just come out and the Edgertons had not long moved into the district. After that we came across one another on a fairly regular basis. I don’t know how things are with you in the north, but down here it is mostly the same group of families at the lord lieutenant’s bash and the hunt balls and so forth, and my father’s place is only about twenty miles away from here, so it was inevitable that we would keep on bumping into one another.

  ‘It wasn’t love at first sight, but I think we both noticed each other, if you know what I mean. I did have a bit of a thing going with one of the young officers stationed at Devonport for a while, but luckily we realized that we didn’t have that much in common and called it a day before Mother could start ordering the invitations for an engagement.’ Mellie laughed and Fran joined in politely.

  ‘Then one day the Edgertons invited a crowd of us for a party on the beach. Swimming and ball games, followed by a supper of bangers and potatoes, all cooked on a great big bonfire of driftwood. It was lots of fun as you can imagine and after supper, Roly took me off into the garden. We stood there, just the two of us in the moonlight, surrounded by the scent of roses, and he proposed. It was terribly romantic. Unbeknown to me, he’d already been to speak with my father, so when I said “yes” we were able to go back down on to the beach and announce it to all our friends at once. You should have heard the cheers! And, of course, Jamieson had been teed up in advance and right on cue he began to pop the champagne corks. They’d got the bottles hidden somewhere nearby, all kept on ice.’

  ‘And that was when?’

  ‘The second of September 1928,’ said Mellie promptly. ‘We were married the following spring.’

  ‘So you had only been married for a few months when Roly’s grandfather died.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Can I ask what you remember about the day it happened?’

  ‘You can ask …’ Mellie gave her little laugh again. ‘But I’m afraid the truth is that I don’t remember anything very much about it at all. It was terribly hot, I do know that. I remember having to hunt about when we realized the old man was missing, but hardly anything before that. We all spent most of the day on the beach.’

  ‘But not everyone spent the whole day there,’ Fran prompted.

  ‘Oh no. Some people went to play tennis. Those Trenchard girls had come over for the day and they are frightfully jolly hockey sticks and forever wanting to chase about at some game or other. Roly wanted me to play too, but it was far too warm.’

  ‘Do you remember who else went to play?’

  ‘Not really. Oh, wait, though – I’m sure that frightful woman who has married Roly’s uncle was one of them, because I was so relieved when she buzzed off. She gets on my nerves I’m afraid, chattering all the time in that affected voice, trying to disguise her shop girl’s accent – as if anyone is going to be fooled.’

  Fran tried a different tack. ‘Can you remember who definitely stayed on the beach all afternoon?’

  ‘Not really. You see, I was lying under one of the big parasols with my eyes closed for some of the time. I may even have dozed off. I’m not being much of a help, am I? Oh, wait, though … I do remember one thing. Some of the kids were playing cricket or rounders on the sand and there was a row about it. I lifted my head off the cushions and I could see that Imogen was quarrelling with the others and then she screamed at them and stormed off. Poor old Miss Billington, who had been sitting in the shade with me, had to put down her book and go after her. She called out, of course, but Imogen was in one of her rages and took no notice. Quite honestly that child needs a zookeeper, not a governess.’

  ‘Did you see Miss Billington catch up with her?’

  ‘No, but then one couldn’t see much from where I was lying. I think I heard Miss Billington call her name a couple of times, but I don’t know whether or not she caught up with her.’

  ‘They didn’t come straight back together?’

  ‘I don’t recollect that they came back on to the beach at all. Imogen probably hid somewhere and refused to come out. She’s quite smart at disappearing when she wants to. Or she may have gone straight back to the house in search of cake. The servants all indulge her to a ridiculous degree. But … now I think about it, Miss Billington must have come back to the beach, because I remember her walking ahead of me when we eventually came back up to the house for tea. She was carrying a bag with some towels and things. I don’t recall seeing Imogen, though.’

  ‘When you found out what had happened to old Mr Edgerton, did you suspect that it mightn’t have been an accident?’

  Mellie inclined her head to one side. ‘That depends what you mean by an accident. I suppose I can speak in confidence?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well then, personally I suspected that he had done it on purpose.’

  ‘Committed suicide, you mean?’

  ‘I think that’s a rather distasteful way of describing it. My great-uncle Chetwyn took his own life but everyone was perfectly happy to call it an accident. Gun went off accidentally, that kind of idea. It’s such an e
mbarrassment for the family to have it put about that it was suicide while of unsound mind. My eldest sister was about to come out when Uncle Chetwyn died. Rumours like that can seriously impair a girl’s chances.’

  ‘But surely …’

  ‘Come now, you know how it is. Engagements have been broken off at the whiff of anything like that in the girl’s family.’

  Fran paused to consider this. In the village where she had grown up there had been a family with an idiot son whose sisters had never married. One always hoped that this was coincidence rather than active prejudice.

  ‘It’s bad enough that Roly and the others are saddled with Imogen,’ Mellie continued. ‘Without it being suggested that their grandfather was losing his mind.’

  ‘And was he?’ Fran enquired.

  ‘Not in the sense that he was raving or anything like that,’ Mellie said quickly. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get the idea that he was an out-and-out loony, but he had started to get a bit confused.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well … he used to get a bit muddled. Sometimes he forgot names, things like that. And sometimes he got funny ideas about things. He wanted to sack the cook, because he said she was trying to poison him. That was a couple of months before he died and it all blew over. He also got a bit of a thing about Monica, his nurse. He wanted to sack her too, at one stage. He said she was looking at him in a funny way.’

  ‘No one considered sacking the cook or the nurse?’

  ‘Of course not. Mrs Remington has been with the family for years and Monica was an excellent nurse and very good with old Mr Edgerton.’

  ‘Why did he think he was being poisoned?’

  ‘Oh, it was just his fancy. He said his food tasted funny one day. Monica said she tasted it and there was nothing wrong with it at all, but she humoured him anyway and threw the food away, I believe.’

  ‘So it was only one occasion?’

  ‘Yes, just once.’