‘So he had good reason to resent the colonel.’
‘No question about it. He was bound to feel that he was the victim of personal prejudice, Inspector.’
‘Why should he feel that?’
‘Years ago,’ said the lawyer, ‘Bruntcliffe used to be friendly with Adam Tarleton. When they were together, their high spirits often got the better of them and there was trouble. The colonel always believed that it was Bruntcliffe who led Adam astray – though, in my opinion, it might well have been the other way round.’
‘In other words,’ deduced Colbeck, ‘there might have been an element of revenge in the sentence.’
‘That’s how it would have been perceived by Michael Bruntcliffe, anyway. He’d feel he was being punished for past indiscretions with the colonel’s stepson. That sort of thing rankles,’ Everett went on. ‘While he was in prison, I daresay Bruntcliffe had very little else to think about.’
‘Where are you going?’ asked Eve Doel. ‘I need you here with me.’
‘I’m bored simply doing nothing,’ said her brother.
‘We’re in mourning, Adam. You can’t just go gallivanting around the countryside. It’s improper.’
‘I can do what I wish.’
‘You’re not even dressed properly.’
‘I can’t ride a horse in mourning attire, Eve. I’d look absurd.’
‘I want you to stay here. I need company.’
‘You’ve got Mrs Withers to provide that. It’s about time she did something useful. I feel cooped up in the house. It’s like a morgue in there. I want a breath of fresh air.’
They were standing outside the stables which were detached from the house. The horse had been saddled and Adam Tarleton was about to mount it. Distressed at being left alone, his sister had followed him out there to tug at his sleeve.
‘Please don’t go.’
‘It will only be for an hour or two.’
‘We have so much to discuss,’ she said, plaintively.
‘I don’t think so. Let’s be honest,’ he said, airily. ‘It’s only a question of dividing the spoils. The real decision is what to do with the house. You don’t need it and it’s far too big for me on my own. Besides,’ he went on, ‘I’m not cut out for the life of a country squire. Having to be on my best behaviour all the time would drive me to distraction. I need the freedom to enjoy myself in my own way.’
She was wounded. ‘How can you say such things at a time like this?’ she pleaded. ‘Our parents both died in the most indescribable ways and all you can talk about is enjoyment. Don’t you care, Adam?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Weren’t you upset when you viewed Mother’s body?’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t seem anguished when you got back here.’
‘Well, I was,’ he said, feigning solemnity, ‘I was shocked. When I identified the body, I could hardly bear to look.’
‘Then how can you go off cheerfully for a ride? It’s not just the inheritance we have to discuss. That, quite frankly,’ she said, ‘can wait. I find it rather tasteless even to raise the subject when we have more immediate problems to confront.’
‘Such as?’
‘There’s the inquest into Mother’s death, for a start.’
‘That should be quite straightforward, Eve.’
‘I’ll be in agony from start to finish.’
‘Then you don’t need to attend. I’ll go on your behalf.’
‘I have to be there,’ she said. ‘Don’t you understand? However upsetting the details, I have to know them. And once the inquest is out of the way, there’s the problem of the funeral arrangements.’
‘They’ll both be buried at St Andrew’s.’
‘That’s not what the rector says.’
‘I don’t give two hoots for his opinion.’
‘He seemed so determined, Adam. He won’t entertain the notion of letting someone who committed suicide lie in the churchyard.’
‘He has no choice. When I was in Northallerton, I called in on Mr Everett and asked him where we stood on the matter. He told me that the law is quite clear. It’s in our favour.’
‘That will mean nothing to the rector.’
‘Then it’s high time someone knocked some sense into that thick skull of his,’ said Tarleton, putting his foot in the stirrup. ‘I’ll ride over there this afternoon.’ He hauled himself up into the saddle. ‘I don’t care if he is our godfather,’ he continued, ‘we’ll make the funeral arrangements that we choose and nobody will be allowed to obstruct us. The rector can go hang!’
Digging in his heels, he rode off at a canter. Eve quailed.
Victor Leeming got to the house to learn that Agnes Reader was not there. Since she was expected back soon, however, he was invited in and asked to wait in the drawing room. It gave him time to take a detailed inventory of the place and to realise that bank managers were paid a lot more than detective sergeants. The room was sizeable. In fact, the whole ground floor of his house would have fitted into it and still left additional space. The furniture and fittings were of high quality, the carpet exquisite and the paintings indicative of excellent taste. Leeming was mesmerised by the contents of a china cabinet, marvelling at the intricate porcelain and realising how impractical it would be for use by his own family. With two lively children to accommodate, he made sure that all the crockery was solid and durable. The idea of putting it on show behind glass was a concept wholly foreign to him. The only thing on display in the Leeming household was the cup he’d helped to win as part of a police tug-of- war team and that would soon be relinquished to another member of the team so that he could have his allotted time with it.
Working as a detective was an education. It allowed him to have access to social circles that he’d never otherwise enter. Whenever he’d had to visit one of the grander houses in London, he was used to calling at the servants’ entrance. It was Colbeck who’d taught him to knock on the front door and be more authoritative. Leeming’s confidence had increased but he still lacked the inspector’s ability to be at ease in any social situation. Low taverns and hazardous rookeries were the sergeant’s natural habitat. Even in a home like the present one, the whiff of middle-class luxury unsettled him.
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting,’ said Agnes Reader when she eventually arrived. ‘Have you been here long?’
‘Not really,’ he told her, glancing towards the fireplace. ‘I was admiring your ornaments. You obviously don’t have children if you can put so many fragile objects on your mantelpiece.’
‘No, we don’t have children, Sergeant.’
‘Yet this would make a wonderful family house.’
Her voice was subdued. ‘I daresay that it would but…it was not to be. Have you been offered refreshment?’
‘Yes, Mrs Reader,’ he said, ‘but I wanted nothing.’
‘Do sit down,’ she said, waving him to a seat and taking an armchair opposite him. ‘Is it too much to ask that you’ve brought some good news?’
‘You’ve already had that. Inspector Colbeck is in charge of the investigation. That’s the best news possible.’
‘He seems to be a very astute man.’
‘He has a sixth sense when it comes to solving crimes.’
‘I was at the house with Mrs Doel when he called yesterday.’
‘So I hear,’ said Leeming. ‘The inspector felt that you were more helpful than Mrs Doel because she hasn’t recovered from the shock of what happened yet.’
‘I’m not sure that I have either,’ she admitted. ‘But, if there’s anything else I can tell you, I’ll be pleased to do so.’
‘Did the colonel ever talk about cases that came before him when he sat on the bench?’
‘Yes, he often did that. It was rather unnerving.’
