She began shooing her husband from the room. Turning back to Eleanor she kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thank you, my dear, you’ve given us both hope. With you and Clifford on Lancelot’s case, he’ll fare much better than in the hands of so-called Law and Justice.’
‘Of course. Clifford and I will soon have him back at Langham Manor where he belongs.’
Eleanor hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt.
Seven
As Clifford returned from seeing Lord and Lady Langham out, Eleanor flopped full-length on the sofa.
‘Clifford?’
‘Yes, my lady?’
‘What did you make of all that?’
Clifford pursed his lips. ‘As Mr Burns would say, “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.”’ At Eleanor’s look, he translated. ‘“Often go awry”, my lady.’
Eleanor snorted. ‘Well, I’d hardly call this one of the best-laid schemes I’ve come across. I’d say this was one of the worst, whether laid by man or mouse. What were they thinking of? I mean, who would dream up such a ridiculous plan, Clifford?’
A discreet cough was his only reply.
She groaned. ‘Okay, maybe it has all the hallmarks of something I might have come up with, but we need to get serious. What’s our first move?’
Clifford looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded as if to himself. ‘If we are to aid their lord and ladyship, not to mention young Lord Fenwick-Langham, perhaps we should establish the exact events that evening leading up to the theft of the jewels and the colonel’s murder.’
‘You’re right, Clifford, let’s get everything clear in our heads first and then we can see what’s what.’
She fetched her notebook, and set about jotting down a rough timeline of the evening, explaining her calculations to Clifford as she went.
‘Lady Langham said I was the last to arrive by about quarter of an hour. Now, I arrived around seven forty-five, so Lancelot’s friends must have been there by seven thirty, but I don’t imagine before around seven fifteen, as I can’t imagine they’d have wanted to be the first to arrive. And then me at seven forty-five.’
She looked up and caught Clifford’s expression. ‘Don’t say a word, Clifford! I’m just not naturally good at arriving on time for, well, anything really.’
‘Very good, my lady,’ he said, in most butlery tones. But his eyes were twinkling. ‘What of the colonel?’
‘I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, Clifford, but the colonel really was a most difficult man. I spoke to him before I went upstairs to look for Lancelot and he did talk a load of nonsense.’ She sighed. ‘But we can’t allow his killer to walk free. So, onwards.’
‘What of the colonel’s death?’ Clifford asked. ‘Didn’t you tell me that Chief Inspector Seldon found a stopped watch in the study?’
‘Ah yes, you’re right. I assume the colonel was killed sometime around this time as the inspector said the colonel’s watch stopped at eight twenty-three.’ She added it to the list and showed it to Clifford.
Eleanor stopped writing and looked up. Despite her gut feeling that Lancelot couldn’t have stolen the jewels, let alone murdered the colonel, she found her mind, and her jottings, telling her a different story.
‘Oh, Clifford, what have we got ourselves into? How on earth are we going to prove a man innocent when he’s caught red-handed and all the evidence points to his being guilty?’
Eight
The following day the sun had decided to stop hiding and show itself. Despite this goodwill gesture, not being market day, Chipstone High Street was half empty. The Rolls glided past groups of women gossiping on street corners while bored shopkeepers cleaned their front windows and swept the shop steps.
As Clifford pulled into a parking space next to the police station’s signature blue lamp, Eleanor noted there were none of the usual uniformed men smoking in the adjoining alley. Perhaps after she and Clifford had brought the corruption at the station to light, a shake-up had occurred.
As he opened her door, she stepped out. ‘Thank you, Clifford, please wait for me. This is a battle I need to fight on my own.’
‘Of course, my lady. But do you feel that going into battle is the best attitude with which to approach such a delicate matter?’
‘No, not at all, but it’s the one I’ve got.’ Without waiting for a reply, she strode up the steps.
Inside the station the atmosphere felt altogether different to when she’d last been there. A gentle hum of activity filled the building, boots echoed on polished floors. The officer behind the reception desk stood smartly as she approached.
‘Good morning,’ she said.
He looked at the large wall clock opposite. ‘Actually, it’s afternoon, miss.’ Recognition dawned. ‘Oh, it’s you, Lady Swift. Apologies, what can I do for you?’
‘Constable… oh, sorry, I believe it’s Sergeant Brice now, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right, Lady Swift.’ He swelled with pride. Brice had been recently promoted after the previous sergeant had been removed for incompetence and suspected corruption. ‘May I ask the nature of your visit?’
‘Yes, you may. I wish to speak to Lance… Lord Fenwick-Langham, please.’
Brice gave an involuntary low whistle that he tried to turn into a cough. ‘Prisoners held for serious offences aren’t permitted visitors.’
Eleanor’s stare bore into his skull. Few had survived the Swift Stare.
He shuffled behind the counter. ‘It’s the rules. You can leave a message and I’ll ask Detective Chief Inspector Seldon if I can pass it on to the… accused.’ He glanced up at her and hurriedly looked back down. ‘That’s the best I can do.’
‘The inspector?’ She frowned. ‘He’s still here? I rather hoped he would have been dragged back to London or Oxford.’
‘He’s in charge of the investigation, Lady Swift. He’ll be with us until the verdict is reached.’
‘Verdict? Now just you hold your horses! None of you should be thinking about verdicts, or trials at this stage. You haven’t even established the facts yet!’
Another voice interrupted. ‘Good afternoon, Lady Swift. Have you stopped by to offer the police advice on how to run a murder investigation, or is there something else we can do for you?’
She turned to the newcomer. ‘Inspector.’
‘It’s Detective Chief Inspector,’ Brice whispered.
She couldn’t help notice DCI Seldon’s eyes seemed warm, despite his smile being not much more than a thin line across his strong jaw.
He tilted his chin. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes. As you most likely overheard, I would like to see Lord Fenwick-Langham.’
‘I’m afraid he is not permitted visitors.’
‘I did tell her that, sir,’ Brice said.
DCI Seldon shot him a look. ‘Tea, Sergeant. We’ll be in my office.’
‘I thought you was going out to…’ The sergeant tailed off at the inspector’s glare. ‘Yes, sir.’