Assassins Page 8

  The shape of the Sopwith Camel was already clear: the relatively short body, the round propeller casing at the nose, the upper wing of the biplane ready to fix to the struts coming up from the lower wing and the fuselage. Stark had seen plenty of them in action over the trenches of Flanders during the last year of the war, twisting and turning in the sky with an agility that had been lacking in the earlier planes.

  As Stark watched Stephen cut and shape the pieces of wood under Henry’s painstaking directions, once again he felt the surge of admiration at the careful, precise work that he’d had as a child when watching his father at work as a carpenter.

  ‘Do you want to do some cutting, Dad?’ asked Stephen.

  Stark shook his head. ‘No, I’ll leave that to you and Grandad,’ he said. ‘You’re better at it than I am. I’ll do some gluing.’

  ‘You’d better not mess it up,’ growled Henry. ‘You always made a mess when you were a kid.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m older now. I’ve learned to be more careful,’ said Stark. And he winked at Stephen, who grinned back.

  The tap-tap-tap at the door of his flat interrupted Danvers as he pored over the copies he’d made of the reports from the uniformed officers: witness statements, speculations, theories. He knew he should have let it drop, relax, get his mind off it for this evening, but he also knew that this was his big chance. The murder of Lord Amersham. One of the most high-profile cases the Yard had ever had. There was the promise of promotion here. He would show them all that he was the man who would take the police force forward. Superintendent Barnes, Stark, Special Branch, his father, Lady Amelia Fairfax, that girl Naomi. There had been enough sneers and doubters when he said he was going into the police force. He was sure the answer to the murder lay somewhere in these documents he had laid out on his small sideboard and his other chair. And now he was being interrupted.

  He opened the door and was surprised to see his sister standing there. ‘Lettie!’ It was always a pleasure to see Lettie, even if she did bring with her unpleasant memories of his father and home. ‘Come in! I’ll just clear these papers up and find you a chair!’

  Two chairs. That was all he had in this room. A bijou apartment; that was how the agent had described it. In real terms, it meant a tiny living room, with a gas fire and one gas ring on which to boil a kettle; and a small box room which housed a very narrow single bed. There was also a toilet and basin in the small bathroom, a luxury considering that most of the population of London still had to use outside privies.

  ‘You should have told me you were coming. We could have arranged to meet somewhere nicer. The Connaught.’

  For once, Lettie didn’t comment. Usually, when she called, she made well-intentioned but disparaging remarks about the small flat, wondering why he didn’t provide himself with a better standard of accommodation.

  ‘Because I’m only on a policeman’s pay, Let,’ he told her every time. ‘Even as a detective. Yes, I might find somewhere larger further out, but this is Russell Square, and Bloomsbury isn’t cheap, you know.’

  Danvers cleared the papers into a pile and dumped them on the sideboard.

  ‘If you give me a minute, I’ll get myself cleaned up and we can pop out somewhere.’

  ‘No.’

  There was something in Lettie’s voice, a note of despair, and Danvers stopped what he was doing and turned to her, suddenly anxious. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Is Mama all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, but her voice was still strange. Anxious.

  Danvers gestured to her to sit, and she lowered herself into the chair. ‘Come on, Lettie, what is it? What’s wrong?’

  He looked at his sister as she sat awkwardly on the chair. He’d always felt protective towards Lettie. Eighteen now, but still a child in so many ways. Danvers put that down to the dominant stance of his father, determined to rule the roost at home, crushing his wife and children into moulds of his wanting. He had never allowed Lettie to gain her independence, take risks, show a bit of wildness. No, the family name was far too important for that.

  ‘I saw Bunty Wickham yesterday,’ said Lettie. She hesitated, and Danvers saw she was doing her best to stop herself bursting into tears. Lettie forced a not very convincing smile. ‘You know what a terrible gossip she is.’

  Yes, Danvers did. One evening, at a dance, he’d had a mild flirtation with her, and the next morning an exaggerated report of his antics had blazed around their circle like wildfire. ‘Like an octopus,’ she had said. ‘Really, my dear, his hands were all over me!’

  ‘Anything that Bunty Wickham says needs to be taken with a very large pinch of salt,’ said Danvers.

  ‘Yes, I know. Anyway, she said that the police are looking into Lord Amersham’s private life. You know … his … relationships.’ She looked at Danvers. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘Among other things,’ said Danvers cautiously. ‘To be honest, there are lots of different avenues to explore. Politics, for one.’

  She dropped her head, nodding. ‘Who’ll be looking into it?’

  ‘All of us?’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Well, of course. My boss, Chief Inspector Stark, is in charge of the case, and I’m already closely involved. Although it’s early days yet.’

  ‘The questions about Lord Amersham’s private life. How … discreet will people be?’

  ‘As discreet as we can be, but everyone knows what sort of man he was.’ A sudden realization hit him, and he stared at his sister in shock.

  ‘Lettie. You’re not saying that you …’

  ‘No, no, no!’ Her face as she looked at him was a mixture of shock and revulsion.

  ‘But then why …’

  ‘It’s Mama and Papa.’

  Danvers stared at her, bewildered. ‘What is?’

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing!’ burst out Lettie, and she jerked to her feet and began to pace about the room, agitated. ‘It really is nothing, but the police may not see it that way. I mean, you will, obviously, but your superior …’

  ‘For God’s sake, Lettie, just tell me!’

  ‘It was about a month ago. Papa was away on business, and Lord Amersham called at the house. He said he was there to talk about this charity of his, the Passchendaele Memorial Fund. Because Papa was away, he talked to Mama about it.’

  ‘Just the two of them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you were there?’

  ‘I was there when he arrived, but I had to go out. I was meeting Felicity Lamb. Anyway, a few days later Papa returned home in a fearful rage. He’d been told that Lord Amersham had been with Mama alone in the library, and he began to shout at her. You know what a temper he has.’

  ‘Only too well,’ said Danvers ruefully.

  ‘Papa said that Lord Amersham had the worst of reputations, and no decent woman would entertain him, certainly not privately. He … he …’ She stopped. ‘He demanded to know what had taken place between them, and even when Mama promised him it had only been a conversation about Lord Amersham’s Memorial Fund, he wasn’t placated. He said that if that man came to the house again, he would … he would shoot him like a dog.’

  ‘Who heard this exchange?’ asked Danvers.

  ‘Everyone in the house. You know how loud Papa’s voice is when he gets angry.’

  ‘And who, exactly, was in the house?’

  ‘Me. Bridges. Mrs Henderson. Millie.’

  His father’s valet, the housekeeper, the maid. Which meant, with Millie’s gossipy tongue, the threat would be common knowledge.

  ‘And then …’ Lettie was continuing, her manner even more awkward. ‘And then, about a week later, Lord Amersham returned. Once again, Papa was away …’

  ‘It seems Lord Amersham timed his visits carefully,’ commented Danvers wryly.

  ‘I was in the drawing room when he arrived. Mrs Henderson answered the door and Lord Amersham asked if he could see Papa. Mrs Henderson told him that Papa was away from the house, and Lord Amersham asked if he could se
e Mama. Mrs Henderson told him that Mama was also away. I got the impression that Lord Amersham didn’t believe her.’

  ‘Was Mama at home?’

  ‘Yes. But she had given orders that if Lord Amersham called again, he was to be told that she was not available.’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  Lettie gave a shudder at the memory. ‘Lord Amersham said he would like to leave a note for Mama, and asked for a pen and paper. As Mrs Henderson went to get them, Papa returned. His business had obviously finished early.’

  ‘Or he had been watching the house,’ observed Danvers quietly.

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Lettie. ‘Why would he do such a thing?’

  Because jealousy makes us all act like fools, thought Danvers sadly. ‘What happened then between Papa and Lord Amersham?’ he asked.

  ‘Papa exploded! He demanded to know what Lord Amersham was doing in his house. Lord Amersham said that he had come to continue a conversation he’d had about the Passchendaele Memorial Fund, about raising funds for it. Papa … Papa virtually accused him of lying. He raged. He jabbed his finger at Lord Amersham, and at one moment I thought he was going to attack him.’

  ‘What did Lord Amersham do?’

  ‘Nothing. He just sort of looked at Papa with a sort of cold sneer on his face, which only made things worse. Finally he said, “You are a fool, Danvers, and beneath my contempt.” And with that he left.’

  ‘What happened then? With Mama?’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Lettie. ‘Papa went and found Mama and started raging at her, accusing her of encouraging Lord Amersham. He said there’d be no more of this. He said … He said if he shot Lord Amersham, no court would find him guilty because of the man’s appalling reputation. In fact, he said there were many who would applaud his actions.’

  She fell silent.

  ‘And when was all this?’ asked Danvers.

  ‘Lord Amersham’s last visit was just over a fortnight ago.’ She looked at her brother, agonized. ‘What can we do, Bobby?’

  Danvers stood up and took his sister by the hand. ‘Lettie, it’s highly unlikely that Papa would have carried out his threat.’

  ‘I know, but the police won’t know that!’

  ‘I am the police,’ Danvers reminded her.

  ‘I mean the people at the top. This chief inspector they talk about in the newspapers.’

  ‘Chief Inspector Stark,’ said Danvers. ‘He’s a good man, Lettie. Intelligent.’

  ‘But say Papa is arrested? If it all comes out …’ She shook her head miserably. ‘Think of what people will say about Mama.’

  ‘You don’t mean you think that Mama and Lord Amersham …?’

  ‘No! No! But you know what people are like; they’ll say there’s no smoke without fire.’ She squeezed his hand and looked at him appealingly. ‘Will you have a word with this Inspector Stark? Explain to him. Stop anything happening before loose gossip turns into … I don’t know … accusations.’

  Danvers hesitated. Yes, he knew he’d have to pass this on to Stark, but he also knew that the chief inspector was not the kind to hide things under the carpet. That was one of the reasons he was so unpopular with the senior ranks at Scotland Yard. ‘Leave it to me, Lettie. I’ll see what I can do,’ he promised. But he already knew that even by mentioning it to Stark, he would be putting his father in the frame as a suspect.

  THIRTEEN

  Stark was in the kitchen, polishing his boots, when the sound of the door knocker echoed down the passage from the street door.

  ‘I wonder who that is?’ asked Henry. ‘You expecting anyone?’

  Stark looked at the clock on the mantlepiece. Quarter past eight. His car wasn’t due this morning until half past eight. Maybe the driver was early, for some reason.

  His mother was in the scullery with Stephen, getting him washed and ready for school. His father was sitting by the range, reading yesterday’s newspaper.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Stark.

  He went along the passage, taking his jacket from the coat stand and pulling it on before he opened the door. Sergeant Danvers was standing there, and the worried expression on his face made Stark immediately alert. ‘I’m sorry to call on you at home, sir, but something has happened that I need to tell you about before you start work.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Henry called.

  ‘It’s someone from work,’ Stark called back.

  Sarah appeared from the scullery and smiled when she saw Danvers. ‘Sergeant Danvers, isn’t it? You came with the note from Paul the other day.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Mrs Stark, and I’m very sorry to call at this hour.’

  ‘That’s all right.’

  ‘He’s called on work business,’ said Stark.

  ‘Then you’d better come in. It’s not the weather for standing on the doorstep. Paul, take Sergeant Danvers into the front parlour.’

  Stark gestured for Danvers to enter the house.

  ‘First door on your right,’ he muttered.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Danvers, and he walked down the narrow passage to the door.

  The front parlour, thought Stark. Reserved for funerals, weddings, and very special guests. It was Danvers’ upper-class accent that had made Sarah direct him to this special room, where everything was kept polished and untouched. If he’d been an ordinary working-class constable, he’d have been invited to the kitchen, a much warmer and friendlier place.

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked Stark. He gestured to one of the chairs. ‘You’d better sit down.’

  Danvers sank down on to one of the heavily cushioned chairs. ‘I’ve never really talked to you about my family, sir,’ he began.

  ‘I read your application form,’ said Stark. ‘I can guess some of it. Public school. Very respectable family.’ He gave Danvers a thoughtful look. ‘Not the traditional background for someone in the police force.’

  ‘No, sir. But I am serious about making it my career.’

  ‘I know you are, Sergeant. So, this concerns your family.’

  ‘My father, actually.’

  Danvers sat in silence, looking miserable.

  ‘I think some words would be a good idea,’ prompted Stark. ‘Telepathy isn’t my strongest point.’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ said Danvers awkwardly. ‘It’s wondering where to begin.’

  ‘The start is usually a good place,’ said Stark gently.

  Danvers nodded. ‘My sister, Lettie, called to see me yesterday evening.’ And then, slowly at first, Danvers told Stark the story his sister had told him the night before.

  Stark waited until he was sure Danvers had finished, then asked, ‘And how likely do you think it is that your father may have carried out his threat?’

  ‘Highly unlikely, to be frank. And certainly not in a public place. That would bring too much disgrace on the family name.’

  ‘But you felt it important enough to come to me here?’

  ‘Because it would be bound to come out! And you need to know before word reaches the Yard. I trust the servants absolutely, but who’s to say who Lord Amersham may have told?’

  Stark nodded. ‘Yes, a good point.’ He regarded his sergeant quizzically. ‘I get the impression from things you’ve said that you and your father don’t get on.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true,’ replied Danvers.

  ‘Does he have a temper?’

  Danvers nodded unhappily. ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  ‘So he could have carried out his threat? That’s obviously what your sister thinks; otherwise she wouldn’t have come to tell you about it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Danvers. ‘Lettie thinks … She thinks he’s capable of it. He’s very protective of our family’s reputation.’

  ‘Your father will have to be interviewed,’ said Stark.

  ‘I know, sir.’

  ‘You can’t do it. That would be in breach of all the rules.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Which means, as the chief officer in this case, I’ll do it.’


  Danvers looked at him gratefully. ‘Thank you, sir. I hoped you’d say that. But … but I must warn you, he can be … aggressive.’

  ‘Even to the police?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Danvers gave a rueful smile. ‘He’s quite democratic about expressing his opinions, regardless of rank or status.’

  ‘To Lord Amersham, for example.’

  ‘Exactly, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant. I have been warned and will be prepared.’

  ‘I didn’t mean …’ began Danvers apologetically.

  ‘Don’t worry, Sergeant.’ Stark waved a hand to calm the sergeant down. ‘In my position, I have often been on the end of adverse attitudes. But it will help me if you tell me about the household – who I can expect to find when I call.’

  ‘Yes, sir. My father is generally at home.’

  ‘Colonel Danvers.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Colonel of what?’

  ‘The cavalry.’

  ‘Served?’

  ‘Sudan. The Boer War.’

  ‘Your mother?’

  ‘She’s usually at home, but my guess is she’ll stay out of it, in her room, once she realizes the reason for your visit. My father will certainly order her to her room.’

  ‘Your sister?’

  ‘Letitia. I call her Lettie. She’s eighteen. I doubt if she’ll be at home. She prefers to go out, seeing friends, or trips to museums and things. Anything, rather than stay home with father. As I said, he can be quite abrasive.’

  ‘Servants?’

  ‘Just the three. Bridges, father’s valet, Mrs Henderson the housekeeper, and Millie the maid.’

  Just three servants, thought Stark. He liked Danvers, but he couldn’t help feeling a touch of resentment at the sergeant’s casual attitude that having servants was the norm. Yes, in his class, they were. He wondered how Danvers viewed him, his boss, living in this cramped terraced house in one of London’s poorer districts.

  He dismissed the thought. We are not to blame for our backgrounds or where we come from, he told himself. ‘Right. I’ll go and see your father this morning, first thing, as soon as my driver arrives. You go to the Yard and assess any new information that may have come in overnight. I’ll join you there.’