Chapter 10 – The Police
After helping Etta dress for breakfast, Jen had gone down to the Servants’ Hall, hoping to get some information. Many of the servants were lingering there, obviously reluctant to start their work.
‘It was Miss Potter that found the body,’ she heard Kate the housemaid say in awed tones.
‘Ooh, how terrible,’ said Lily, looking however, very excited.
After a while, Mr. Cook came into the room, looking old and shocked.
‘I will be making a formal announcement at lunch but for those of you now here, Sir James has just informed me that Mrs. Spinoza was murdered. The police have been informed and will be arriving shortly. I hope I don’t need to remind you all to co-operate with their enquiries. Our primary duty now is to help Sir James and Lady Mowbray through this difficult time. We can do that by being as efficient as possible and performing our duties as if nothing had happened. I’m sure that our thoughts and prayers will be with Mr. Spinoza.’
Mrs. Wagstaff added, ‘Miss Potter has had a very great shock. When she does come down, please don’t badger her with questions.’
Jen felt sure that Miss Potter would be inundated with questions whenever she did appear.
They then shooed the junior staff away to their work.
‘Mr. Taylor, Miss James, would you care to join us in the Steward’s Lodge?’
Mr. Cook poured out five sherries. ‘I’m sure we could all do with this restorative drink after this terrible shock.’ He handed them round.
Mrs. Butler arrived, still wearing her apron. She took her sherry and took a great gulp. Mr. Cook frowned.
‘I can’t stay long,’ she explained. ‘I’ve got lunch to get started.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I wanted to have a quick word with the senior servants. It’s up to us to provide a model to the junior staff during this difficult period. I hope I can rely on your tact and discretion especially with regard to poor Miss Potter.’
They all nodded. Jen sipped her sherry. She knew enough about Sherry; her mother loved it, to know that it was an Amontillado.
‘But who could have done it?’ Mrs. Butler asked, twisting her hands together. ‘I don’t like to think of a murderer loose on the premises.’
‘For God’s sake, don’t say anything like that when junior staff are present!’ Mr. Cook snapped.
Mrs. Butler drew herself up to her full height, which was a few inches taller than Mr. Cook.
‘Please give me some credit,’ she said coldly.
‘Do any of the servants’ bedrooms have locks?’ Jen asked. ‘Because mine doesn’t.’
They all looked at each other in consternation except for Mr. Cook whom
‘As a matter of fact, I have been told that Lady Mowbray’s necklace is missing. It is assumed that Mrs. Spinoza must have caught the thief in the act. I am telling you this in confidence, so please don’t repeat it. There will have to be a search made, of course.’
‘So she was murdered for the necklace?’
‘Yes.’ Mr. Cook shuddered. ‘To think that it might have been Lady Mowbray!’
He was clearly far less distressed by the murder of a beautiful American film starlet.
‘I doubt Lady Mowbray would have been in such danger,’ Mrs. Wagstaff said slowly.
‘Why not?’
‘She and Sir James share a bedroom. Mrs. and Mr. Spinoza had separate bedrooms. Lady Mowbray specifically asked me to give them separate rooms so I put them in the Blue Corner.’
Mrs. Butler and Mr. Cook nodded. She saw Jen and Mr. Taylor’s mystified faces and explained, ‘it has a bathroom between both rooms.’
Jen filed that fact away for future reference.
Everyone had lingered over breakfast but had at last all went to the Drawing Room. Etta noticed that everyone kept making excuses to leave the room. She suspected that they were doing the same as her; they wanted to see the arrival of the police.
Etta was lucky, she had just popped out ‘to powder her nose’ when she saw Cook answer the door to a man in his early thirties, dressed in a trench coat and hat, come through the door, accompanied by a policeman. Sir James had been waiting in the hall and immediately stepped forward to greet them.
‘`Inspector Brighton and this is Sergeant Wolf,’ the man said. ‘Are you Sir James Mowbray?’
‘I am indeed.’
‘Could you take us somewhere we can have a private discussion please? I take it that the room where the body was discovered, has been locked?’
‘Yes, my butler, Mr. Cook, who answered the door to you, locked it. He has the key.’
‘And is there only the one door to the room?’
‘No, there is a door to a shared bathroom but the adjoining room is the lady’s husband.’
The inspector frowned. ‘Then we need to lock that room as well immediately.’
‘But Mr. Spinoza is staying there,’ Sir James protested.
‘Surely he can be moved to another room, sir? Or failing that, could he not go to a local hotel?’
‘No, we can find him another room.’ Sir James beckoned to Cook. ‘Cook, take the inspector to Mr. Spinoza’s room. Unfortunately, he will have to be moved. Explain it to him, will you and make the necessary arrangements?’
‘Very good, sir. If you gentlemen would follow me.’
Etta wasn’t surprised the inspector was cross. Anything could have happened to the evidence. But then, Sir James hadn’t had her advantage of growing up with a murder mystery fiend for a mum.
AS the inspector followed Cook, he looked round him and Etta felt his gaze fall on her and then Miss Mittens who was also hanging around. She smiled at him but he didn’t respond.
‘Did you want something, my dear?’ Sir James asked her.
‘I just wanted to powder my nose.’
‘There is a ground floor W.C., four doors on the right,’ he told her.
So Etta had to go off and pretend to use the toilet.
They all sat around until the inspector finally appeared with Sir James.
‘I wanted to speak to you all together to explain what is going to happen. We will need to interview everyone.’ At this moment, the door opened and Miss Mittens stepped in. She looked embarrassed when she saw that the inspector had broken off his speech and slipped quietly into a seat. He had seen her come in and looked annoyed.
‘For the benefit of those who have just come in, I was explaining that we will need to interview everyone,’ he said coldly. ‘We will be starting with the principal witnesses and then working our way through the list. I must ask you not to leave Wilkington Hall until you have been interviewed and have our permission to go.’
‘Do you mean leave as “go for good” or leave as in “go out for the day”?’ Dennis Mowbray asked.
‘Let me clarify. I do not anyone to leave the premises without permission until you have been interviewed, and certainly not to depart.’
Etta saw disgruntled looks on several faces. Then she heard Miss Mittens’ distinctive voice, ‘Inspector, may I ask, are our rooms to be searched as well?’
‘I was just coming to that. Yes, I’m afraid, that we need to search everywhere for the missing diamond necklace. Extra manpower is being brought in as I speak and I must ask everyone not to go to their rooms until it has been searched.’
This caused more of an outcry. Etta heard Miss Tyneham say, ‘surely one of the servants must have taken it. Why not simply search their rooms?’
Etta could see from their faces that several people agreed with her. The injustice and prejudice took her breath away.
‘I have to keep an open mind at this stage of the investigation, Miss or it is Mrs. er?’
‘Miss Tyneham, young man, my niece is Lady Mowbray. I don’t see why. It’s obvious who must have taken it.’
Here Miss Mittens intervened, saying, ‘come now, Josephine, that really is quite unfair, you know. We should allow the inspector to get on with his job.’
Good for
Miss Mittens, Etta thought.
Inspector Brighton didn’t look too grateful for her intervention. He pressed his lips together. ‘We will be interviewing Mr. Spinoza and Miss Potter first. After that, we would like to interview those people whose bedrooms are nearest to the victim.’
Etta felt an odd pang as he said victim. That’s what she was now, Evangeline Spinoza, last night she had been a vision of loveliness, laughing and enjoying the men’s admiration and now she was just a cold, dead body. Algernon Wainwright, who was sitting next to her, leaned over and squeezed her hand.
‘Buck up, old thing,’ he said. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’
She smiled gratefully at him.
The members of staff were having their lunch. Mr. Cook was explaining what the police would be doing.
‘But what about the trip to the cinema tonight?’ Lily asked in dismay.
‘What trip to the cinema?’ Jen asked.
‘We’re going to the cinema to see Top Hat. It’s been all arranged.’
‘Under the circumstances,’ began Mr. Cook.
‘That’s not fair,’ Kate the other housemaid cried.
Jen spoke up. ‘Excuse me, Mr. Cook but I can’t see why the trip shouldn’t go ahead. It’s not as if the servants knew the dead lady personally and it seems hard to deprive them of a treat when they work so hard.’
Mr. Cook hesitated.
‘Too true,’ came Fraser’s voice. ‘Why should the death of a useless woman who probably never gave a thought to the people who cleaned and cooked for her, prevent them from having a little fun?’
‘Really, Mr. Fraser,’ Mr. Cook spluttered. ‘What a thing to say about a woman who’s hardly cold.’
Great, Fraser, thought Jen, ruin it why don’t you.
Then to her surprise, she heard Mr. Taylor say, ‘I don’t agree with Mr. Fraser’s expressed opinion of the late Mrs. Spinoza but I have to say that it would seem to be regrettable to cancel a planned excursion unless absolutely necessary.’
Mrs. Wagstaff backed him up. ‘I do think Mr. Taylor has a point, Mr. Cook.’
What about my point, Jen thought furiously.
Inspector Brighton looked at the list of names.
'Right, if I could have the ladies of the house, next. I'll start with Lady Mowbray.'
At this point, Wagstaff entered the room and going straight up to Lady Mowbray, whispered in her ear.
Lady Mowbray raised her eyebrows and patted her hair.
'I don't know, I'm sure. I think I should ask Sir James.'
'What's this?' Inspector Brighton asked sharply.
Before she could answer, Sir James and Cook came in.
He nodded at his wife and Wagstaff.
'Has Wagstaff asked you?'
'Yes but I wasn't sure.'
'Think we should ask the inspector, m'dear.' He nodded at Inspector Brighton who was fairly dancing with impatience by now.
'Ask the inspector, what?'
'The servants, well, most of the younger ones were due to go to the cinema at Bedhamstead tomorrow night. All arranged, you see. I was going to let them have the use of the van and Fraser's services. So they're wondering if they can still go.'
Inspector Brighton drew a breath but before he could say anything, Miss Mittens asked, 'may I say something, Inspector?’ and without giving him a chance to refuse, carried on, 'of course, we must bow to your superior judgement but it seems very hard for them to have their little pleasure denied. I am sure that they will see it like that and it seems a pity to lose their goodwill and co-operation when, with a little organisation, it might be achieved quite easily.' she turned to Sir James and Lady Mowbray,' and you know how difficult it is when servants become sullen and resentful and how often, granting a little request can pay dividends in gratitude and loyalty.'
They both nodded vehemently.
'Hmmph,' the inspector said. He turned to his sergeant, 'Sergeant Wolf, how long do you think it will take to search the rooms?'
'We've a good number of men on it at the moment. I should reckon by tomorrow afternoon.'
'We'd need to search all the servants going as well. When is the policewoman arriving?'
'First thing tomorrow morning, Sir'
He turned to Sir James and Lady Mowbray, 'provided all servants have been searched and the whole house has searched by tomorrow evening, I am minded to let them go, if these conditions are met.'
'Thank you, the servants will be most grateful,' said Lady Mowbray. 'Cook, Wagstaff, please let them have the good news.'
Luckily, every room in the house and every servant had been searched by the time it came to depart for the cinema. An hour before, Mrs. Wagstaff had asked her if she thought her mistress would be agreeable to Jen going to supervise the trip.
'I would go but poor Miss Potter needs looking after and Mrs. Butler, Prudence, has a migraine so she can't go.'
'Yes, of course, no problem.'
'Perhaps you should ask your lady first,' Mrs. Wagstaff suggested.
'That won't be a problem, 'Jen confidently asserted and Mrs. Wagstaff had given her a funny look. It would be interesting to go to a cinema in the heyday of cinema going and it was an excuse to get out of the maid's uniform, which she was steadily growing to hate.
It was odd seeing them out of their uniforms. Jen was reminded of old black and white photos of the thirties, that she had seen in antique shops, jumble sales and in old family albums. Of people standing stiffly, looking unsmilingly at the camera. These were her and her friends' grandmothers and grandfathers. Then she remembered that they were no such thing; they were fictional characters only. Seeing the women with their hats on, made Jen realise she had forgotten a hat. She'd had to rush back for one, an old grey, battered affair with a violet ribbon round it.
She was surprised to see Solomon Taylor, standing by the old fashioned looking coach, counting everybody as they climbed on board. She wouldn't have thought that he was the type of person to enjoy a light-hearted musical and then she realised that he must be fulfilling the same role as her. Her having to go back for her hat meant that she was the last person to climb aboard the small coach and had to sit next to Callum Fraser, who was driving. He flicked a glance at her.
'Nice hat,' he commented.
'Oh shut up.'
Fraser started the coach up and they drove off. He drove skilfully along the narrow, winding country roads.
'Are you coming in to see "Top Hat"?' Jen asked.
Fraser snorted. 'Do I look the kind of man who'd enjoy a film about rich, brainless parasites who think they have problems but really have a life of luxury and ease? Religion isn't the opium of the people any more, its movies and radio.'
'No, go on, don't hold back, tell me what you really think,' Jen said.
This forced a reluctant laugh from him. ‘I’m surprised an intelligent woman like you wants to see a film like that,' he added.
'Oh no, you don't,' Jen said firmly, 'don't you start thinking you can tell me what I like and don't like. Men have been too fond of telling women that throughout history.'
Instead of being cross, as Jen expected, Fraser said, 'A woman with a mind of her own, I don't often meet one.' His tone was admiring.
'Are you patronising me?'
'I wouldn't dare. You don't know how sick I am of all the lickspittle toadies here, all yes sir and no sir, and three bags full, sir.'
'Then what are you doing here?'
'I often ask myself the same question. I think I'll be moving on soon enough. Though his lord muck does have some beautiful cars. I like driving them.'
They continued the journey in silence until they reached the market town of Bedhamstead.
Callum parked the coach in front of the cinema and they got out apart from him.
'Are you not joining us, Mr. Fraser?' Solomon Taylor asked.
'No, I'm for The Three Feathers. You can find me there after the show finishes.'
'Don't drink too much, Jen said.
&nb
sp; He laughed, 'I know how to hold my liquor.'
'Yeah, famous last words of a lot od dead drivers and their passengers,' was Jen's retort. Everyone looked at her as if she was mad and she had to remind herself that road safety was not an issue in the thirties.
And neither was smoking as she found out when seated in the cinema between Solomon Taylor and Lily. The air was blue with it and it made her eyes water. As did the air freshener that the cinema attendants had sprayed into the air. She wondered why until her nostrils caught the underlying pong of unwashed bodies. The cinema was packed and very hot.
The first feature was a black and white Micky Mouse cartoon. Jen stared in awe at he matchstick figures. So this was the start of the House of Mouse. Then she became aware that Solomon Taylor was speaking to her.
'What?'
'I said, you haven't offered to help Mrs. Marjorie Mowbray dress for dinner yet. Don't forget you need to search Mr. Dennis Mowbray's room for evidence.'
Jen stared at what she could see of him in the dark.
'Oh,' she said weakly.
He continued, 'I volunteered to help Mr. Grenadier yesterday but I didn't discover anything. It must be with either Mr. Mowbray or Mr. Spinoza.'
What must? Jen hadn't a clue. 'Ok,' she said.
The cartoon finished and a newsreel started. Pathe News, it announced on the screen. There was a short clip about the King and Queen launching a new battleship. Jen wasn't quite sure who they were. She tried to recall when the abdication had been but had only a hazy idea that it was Edward the seventh or was it Edward the eighth? Then the next item started. It showed a hospital room and two females lying unconscious in bed, attached to various tubes. Jen frowned, the equipment looked too modern for the thirties. A message flashed up on the screen - JEN AND ETTA IN A COMA AS RESULT OF CAR CRASH. It vanished. Jen couldn't breathe for a moment, had she really seen what she thought she had seen? A female nurse came into the room, picked up a chart from the end of one bed and read it before hanging it back. She moved to the other bed and repeated her actions. The door opened and a man entered. Jen recognised him. It was Matt.
'Any change?' he asked hopefully.
'Good morning, Mr. Sayers, no, I'm afraid there's been no change.'
There was a close up of the two patients' faces. It was her own face and that of her daughter. It felt weird to look at her features as if they were a stranger's.
Then the camera zoomed to Matt's face as it sagged. The door opened again, and the tall figure of Luke, Etta's long-term boyfriend came in, clutching two polystyrene cups.
'No change,' Matt informed him.
Luke winced and wordlessly handed him a cup.
'Don't give up hope,' the nurse said. ‘Most people will wake up from a coma in a few weeks. It’s early days yet.‘
‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ Matt asked.
‘Yes, lots’ the nurse reassured him. ‘Try talking to them about your day and holding their hands. And there has been some research to say that playing their favourite music or putting flowers in the rooms or spraying their favourite perfume can help. They may be able to hear everything that is said around them.’
‘I’ll bring in a cd player and a CD of Michael Buble,’ Matt said.
‘I’ll play Etta some Kings of Leon on my iPhone,’ Luke said.
There was a close up of Matt sitting down next to Jen. He put his cup on the bedside cabinet and took Jen’s hand.
‘They say you should wake up soon, love. So come on, get a move on,’ he said. His voice was steady but there were tears in his eyes. ‘Let me tell you about my day….’
The screen switched to Luke. He moved to Etta’s bedside, sat down and took her hand.
‘You’re going to get better, Etta, I know you are. I love you,’ he choked, stroking her hand.
Tears trickled down Jen’s faces, which she hastily wiped away with a hand.
There was a fadeout and then the scene switched to a picture of a hurricane somewhere in the Caribbean.
Jen gazed at the screen, unable to move, unable to concentrate on 'Top Hat'. She stared blankly at the screen while the cinema crowd laughed. She was in a coma but the seat felt very real beneath her bottom and behind her back, as did the acrid tang of the blue haze drifting above her head. One thought seized her mind - she had to tell Etta as soon as possible.
She was very quiet as they came out of the cinema unlike the rest of her party, all laughter and chat.
'Are you all right, Miss?' Lily asked, 'you look pale.'
'I'm fine,' Jen answered mechanically, 'I'm just not used to so much smoking in a cinema.'
'Really? I didn't think it was any worse than normal.'
'Lily, what did you think of the second item on the news?' Jen asked.
'Which one was that?'
Jen didn't know what to say. Solomon Taylor came to her rescue.
'The item about the possible new treatments for those sufferers of the Spanish Flu left catatonic?'
‘Yes.’
'Why?' he asked.
'It made me think about the miracles of modern science,' Jen answered weakly. 'How it can transform people's lives.'