Murder at the Spring Ball: A 1920s Mystery by Benedict Brown (romantic novels in english .txt) 📗

“I know, my boy. I do. But I think that is better explained by the fact that he is a sixteen-year-old boy, rather than there being any inherent wickedness within him.”

Against my better judgement, I forced myself to ask, “So he’s not guilty?”

“I see no reason to believe he would be.”

“Then if it’s not Marmaduke, who’s the killer?”

He hesitated and I really thought he might have an answer for me. “I can’t say that yet, but I can tell you that you’ve been asking the wrong questions. You have to consider why Maitland was murdered. Why did the killer only poison the butler, not kill him? Where did Fellowes go when he left the champagne? And who knew what we’d be drinking last night?”

I obviously didn’t have the answers to any of these questions, so I was rather relieved when Inspector Blunt blustered into the room to interrupt.

“I thought I’d extend the courtesy, gentlemen,” he said, in quite the least courteous manner imaginable. “You might like to know that, as soon as Reginald Fellowes is capable of walking, we’ll be arresting him for murder.”

Chapter Twenty

“This is preposterous.” Grandfather’s voice roared across at the grubby little man. “On what possible grounds have you arrested my butler?”

Blunt possessed a look of pure smugness. “He’s a criminal. Got a record longer than my wife’s nightie. Assault, battery, theft of every variety. It’s hardly a stretch of the imagination to conclude that the convicted felon in our midst is involved in all these murders that have been going on.”

“And what possible motive have you come up with for his crimes? The man’s been with me for years.” Grandfather stood up to confront the allegations.

A good foot shorter than his old enemy, Blunt drew himself up to his full height to answer. “You knew, didn’t you?” He let out a vicious laugh. “You knew that Fellowes was a criminal and you didn’t tell us.”

My grandfather did not like the insinuation and glanced past the offending officer and out towards the hall. “People change.”

In a rare moment of confidence, Blunt looked his former superintendent straight in the eye. “Well, you haven’t.”

“Careful what you say, Blunt, or I’ll be on the telephone to your superiors faster than you can say miscarriage of justice.” The threat was made more real by the fact there was a telephone in the room for him to point at.

The inspector wasn’t scared and took a step closer. “Oh, I’m always careful what I say. You were a rotter back when you were in the force and you’re no better now.”

It was an odd sight to see a man of seventy-five facing off against a rival. Blunt himself couldn’t have been far from his sixtieth year and, had it come to blows, my money would have been on Grandfather.

In the end, like any number of the brief confrontations I’d witnessed in Oakton Academy’s yard, the confrontation resulted in little more than flared nostrils and a staring match that Blunt was only ever going to lose.

“I’ve got a man stationed downstairs until Fellowes recovers.” He said by way of revenge. “If there’s a trace of poison on his clothes from last night, we’ll find it. We have all sorts of modern techniques an old codger like you wouldn’t know anything about.”

I think this insult was almost more upsetting to my grandfather than the idea of the wrong man being arrested. He was about to bite back, but held the words in at the last moment. Blunt tipped his hat to us and breezed from the room.

Once we were alone, Grandfather let out a frustrated cry. “Why do I let that supercilious prig get to me? It was the same when we worked together. He took every opportunity he could to undermine me.” He hit his hand against the side of his head three times in fury. “Why did I threaten to call his superiors? I was playing up to every assumption he’s ever had about me.”

I thought it wise to bring him back to the topic at hand. “Perhaps there are more pressing matters, Grandfather?”

“Yes, of course.” He stopped his nervous movement and put a hand on both my shoulders, as if he had some wise words to impart. “I expect that Cora will already have left, so seek out Todd and get him to prepare one of the cars. I’ll make sure the doctor is coming to see Fellowes and meet you at the main entrance.”

“Wait, why Cora? Why now?”

“All in good time, Chrissy.”

Blunt’s announcement had given my grandfather the impetus that he required. He was a tornado of pent up energy as he blew from the room. Once he had gone, I had to pause just to catch my breath.

I went to look for the chauffeur in the kitchen. He was nowhere in sight, but Delilah latched onto me, as I set off to my next port of call. I found Todd in his usual retreat, the barn where Grandfather kept his car collection. He was polishing the MG 14/28, which looked like it had never been driven. In fact, some of the cars in there were so new that the only journey they’d been on was from the manufacturer’s factory to their new home. It was one link to the wider world which the old man had maintained. His car collection had grown substantially over the years of his seclusion, even if he’d never gone to visit them.

I launched my question at the under-worked chauffeur as soon as I was through the double doors. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Cora, have you?”

Todd didn’t look up but continued with his careful attention to the front of the sports car’s bonnet. “She left a little while ago. The police interviewed her first and then she took Clementine home so I didn’t have to.” His knowledge of the comings and goings at Cranley Hall were rivalled only by Fellowes’s own. “Have you ever noticed how that old woman smells of pine cones all