‘No indeed, my lady. But you were shot and left for dead, I think that might entitle you to a little moping.’
‘You’re very kind, Inspector darling,’ she said. She noticed I was still at the door. ‘Tea, dear. Quick sticks. The sooner you’re back, the sooner the inspector can tell us why he’s here.’
I hurried to the kitchen. I could hear them chatting in the other room, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying as I clattered about with the tea things. There were still a few biscuits left over from the batch I’d cooked that morning so I put those onto a plate and hurried back into the drawing room with the tray.
‘…with a grapefruit in his overcoat pocket,’ said Lady Hardcastle as I entered.
Inspector Sunderland chuckled. ‘You are a caution, my lady,’ he said. ‘Like a breath of fresh air you are. I must say it’s good to see you back to your old self.’
Inspector Sunderland was from Bristol CID and hadn’t endeared himself to us when we had first heard of him, having arrested entirely the wrong man in the matter of a hanging in the nearby woods. But we met him again after the tragedy at The Grange and came to know him, and to like him, a great deal better. He was a straightforward man who loved his work and treated us with a level of respect it was hard to find in the rest of the world. Of course, people respected Lady Hardcastle’s title, but usually only that. Inspector Oliver Sunderland valued her opinion, too. And mine for the matter of that.
‘Florence, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle, ‘do sit down. You’re making the place look untidy.’
I sat in the other armchair.
‘Now then, Inspector, tell all,’ she said. ‘Would you think me altogether too grim if I were to confess that I do rather hope it’s to do with the murder of Spencer Carmichael?’
‘Well I never,’ said the inspector with another chuckle. ‘Am I to add clairvoyance to the list of your known talents?’
‘Oh pish and fiddlesticks,’ she said. ‘Gertie Farley-Stroud was here a little while ago, all at sixes and sevens and swooning like a mopsy in a penny dreadful. She told us everything. Well, everything she could manage between swigging my best brandy and passing out, at any rate.’
‘Ah, yes, I gathered she’d been there. So you have the gist of it, then?’
‘Farmer collapses in his pie, local sawbones suspects poison,’ she said. ‘That’s all we have.’
‘That’s the essence of it, certainly,’ said the inspector. ‘Local doctor… doctor…’ he consulted his ever-present notebook, ‘…oh, it doesn’t matter for now. Local chap, anyway. Old fellow, bit of a dodderer. He reckons it must be poison, but it’s not like any poison I’ve ever seen. There’s something not right there, I’m sure of it. I’ve sent the pie and the cider off to be analyzed anyway, though whether they’ll find anything, I don’t know.’
‘It’s absolutely charming of you to come all this way just to tell us,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘I’m sorry Lady Farley-Stroud stole your thunder, but the thought is appreciated.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I didn’t come over just to tell you, my lady. No, I’m sorry, I should have explained myself. You see, I’m rather tied up at the moment – we’re on the trail of a gang of bank thieves in the city – and I… well, I was going to ask you for your help with the pie-eyed farmer.’
‘Oh, Inspector, you absolute poppet,’ she said. ‘We were just saying how we could do with a mystery, weren’t we, Flo?’
‘You were saying it, my lady,’ I said. ‘I was merely mocking your stumbling attempts to remember the word “mystery”.’
‘You see what I have to endure, Inspector?’ she said. ‘Derided by a tiny Welsh mop-squeezer. Well, really. I ask you. Is that right for a woman of my station and distinction?’
‘It seems most inappropriate, my lady,’ he said. ‘I could have a couple of the lads run her down the station, if you like. A night in the cells might teach her some manners.’ He winked at me.
‘You could try, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘But they’d only get hurt. And who would make my breakfast?’
‘As you wish, my lady,’ he said. ‘But will you both help? I need someone I can trust to make the right enquiries while we’re busy trying to stop these lads from tunnelling under Corn Street, or whatever it is they have in mind this time. Someone with natural detective skills and a nose for crime solving.’
‘You know I’m going to agree anyway, Inspector; you can drop the soft soap.’
‘It’s no mere flattery, my lady. You might be undisciplined, untutored and prone to wild flights of whimsical speculation, but blow me if you don’t end up at the solution anyway. The pair of you have proved yourselves more than once round these parts. And after last autumn’s shenanigans I’ve a pretty shrewd idea that you’re no mere effete socialite and her timid lady’s maid, either. One hears things down at HQ. Probably things one isn’t supposed to hear. But I’ve pieced a few things together and I’d be honoured to have ladies such as you on my side.’
‘Then fear not, Inspector darling, we shall do our bit. Where do we start? Who was this Carmichael? Did he have a wife? Where can we find her? Who were his friends? What are the local bobbies up to?’
He chuckled his throaty chuckle once more. ‘I knew you were the ladies for the job. Thank you. I don’t have all the details yet, but I’ve got a couple of lads making some preliminary enquiries over in Chipping Bevington and I’ll make sure you have a full report first thing in the morning. The local bobbies are… let’s just say that I’d rather they weren’t too closely involved. Well meaning chaps, but not among Nature’s great thinkers. Be polite, but don’t rely on them for anything. Your own local man, Sergeant Dobson, will be able to contact me at Bristol CID if you need me, and I’ll pop by in a couple of days to see how you’re getting on.’
‘Right you are, Inspector,’ she said. ‘Of course you know what we’re going to have to fetch out now, don’t you?’
‘Your famous Crime Board, my lady?’ he said, smirking slightly.
‘The very same,’ she said. ‘Flo, why does everyone have that look on their face every time they mention the Crime Board?’
‘Because it’s the most preposterously silly idea they’ve ever heard, my lady?’ I said.
‘Heathens!’ she said. ‘Heathens and Philistines! You don’t have the trained minds of the scientist, that’s all. Clarity of thought, that’s what’s required. Organization. Connections. Reasons. The board helps me think. We shall fetch it from the attic this very evening, Inspector, and begin our analysis.’
‘She means that I’ll fetch it,’ I said.
‘I’m poorly,’ she said, weakly, clutching her side. ‘I was shot in the stomach, you know. An assassin. I try not to talk about it, but it prevents me from fetching blackboards and easels from the attic.’
‘And she means that we’ll begin our analysis tomorrow when we have your officers’ report and know what there is to analyze.’
The inspector put down his teacup and stood.