‘Hot and in scrubbed cups, mind,’ Eleanor couldn’t help calling after him.
Brice whirled round and then caught her drift. Shaking his head, he disappeared through the door behind him.
DCI Seldon raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘Oh, it was that buffoon Sergeant Wilby’s favourite command. “Brice! Tea, hot and in scrubbed cups!”’
‘Ah, yes, Sergeant Wilby. Well, as you know he is no longer at this station.’
‘Or any other I sincerely hope.’
DCI Seldon rubbed his forehead and gestured to the half-open door behind him.
‘Lady Swift, as you are the main witness, I was going to call and ask that you came and signed your statement, but it appears you have saved me the trouble.’
He marched into the office, ducking under the doorframe as he did so. She followed and stood as he closed the door behind her. The office had a temporary feel; boxes crammed with files littered the floor while the bureau stood empty, its door ajar. He threw his blue wool overcoat and bowler on the corner stand and pulled a chair out for her.
She smiled as she sat. ‘Inspector, I just need to talk to Lancelot. It’s very important.’
‘As is answering some pertinent questions.’
She leaned across the desk. ‘Fine. And then you’ll take me to see Lancelot?’
He flopped in the chair behind the desk, folded his long legs under the seat and wrestled them out again. ‘Lady Swift.’ He sighed. ‘As I said I have some further questions to ask you.’ He pulled his notebook from his pocket.
She removed her gloves, unpinned her hat and dropped them in front of him. ‘I have some things to ask you too. You first.’
‘Right.’ He shifted a mountain of files to the corner of the desk. ‘First off, what precisely did you see on entering the room on the night of the murder?’
‘Didn’t we cover this already on the night of the murder?’
‘Lady Swift, please just answer the question.’
Eleanor marshalled her thoughts. ‘I pushed the door open and saw Lancelot. Well, I wasn’t sure it was him at first. So I suppose, to be accurate, I noticed a figure standing over another figure lying on the floor.’
‘Did you notice anything particular about the victim?’
‘I did think he was lying at a most peculiar angle.’
‘And what did you do next?’
Eleanor scrunched her eyes shut. ‘I called out to Lancelot.’
‘What were you trying to warn him of?’
‘Warn him? I wasn’t warning him of anything. As I said, at that point I wasn’t certain it was him. So I called his name and he stood up.’
‘What exactly did you say, please?’
‘His name.’
DCI Seldon sighed. ‘Specifics, please. Did you use his first name, his full name?’
Eleanor frowned and tried to peer at his jaw. Was it twitching again? ‘Lancelot. I just said “Lancelot”. You know, because that’s his name.’ Ellie, just answer the questions! She shook her head, aware that DCI Seldon was staring at her. She didn’t mean to be difficult, but she’d struggled with authority, especially the police, since her parents’ disappearance. A thought struck her. ‘But surely you must have heard me? Isn’t that why you and your men then charged into the room?’
‘My men and I entered just after that point, yes.’
‘Because you heard me?’
A fumble at the door handle appeared to bring him relief. ‘Ah, here’s the tea. Enough questions for a moment.’
He rose to open the door.
‘Thank you, Brice.’ DCI Seldon indicated for the cups to be set down on the one clear spot on the desk. ‘That will be all.’
‘Er, sir, would you like me to telephone and cancel your appointment? You were supposed to be at—’
‘I know where I was supposed to be, Sergeant. It will be obvious by now that I have been detained.’
As the door closed behind Brice, Eleanor leaned her elbows on the desk. ‘Is it my turn now, Inspector?’
‘Not yet.’ He grunted, running his finger along the handle of the mug. ‘I haven’t finished.’ He took a sip of his tea and winced. ‘There was a moment between you calling the name of the accused and my men and I entering the room. Can you describe what you remember?’ Pen at the ready, he held her stare.
‘Um, was there? It all happened so fast, I’m not sure I can remember.’
‘Let’s see if you can try.’
‘Okay, well I think Lancelot stood up and turned around.’
‘And did he respond to you calling out to him?’
‘But you must have heard…’ At Seldon’s pursed lips, Eleanor paused and took a deep breath. ‘He said something, I don’t quite remember what.’
‘Let me remind you.’ Seldon flicked back through the pages of his notebook. ‘“Sherlock, what the hell are you doing here? You should leave. Now!” Does that sound familiar?’
‘Yes, he may have said something like that.’
‘He seemed surprised to see you?’
‘Of course he was. I told you he had no idea that I’d, you know, followed him up the stairs.’
‘And he ordered you to leave?’
‘As there was a dead body in the room, I imagine any gentleman would try and spare a lady that unpleasantness.’
At the word ‘gentleman’, Seldon stiffened. ‘And what is the reference please of “Sherlock”? Is it code for something to do with the crime?’
Eleanor blushed. ‘For pity’s sake, you know full well it isn’t code! Just as you know I’m not Lancelot’s accomplice, and he isn’t guilty of stealing the jewels or of finishing the old colonel off!’
Seldon leaned towards her, his tone terse. ‘Sherlock?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s a… pet name, if you must know.’
‘Thank you. That is the end of questioning, for now. I will ask Sergeant Brice to bring in the fingerprint kit.’
‘Fingerprint kit? For me? But I didn’t touch anything.’
‘Perhaps not, but we need to match all the fingerprints found at the murder scene, including those discovered on the candlestick, which we are now certain is the murder weapon. The murder weapon you failed to disclose was in the accused’s hand as he turned and called you Sherlock!’
Stay calm, Ellie! She took a deep breath. ‘Did you find any other fingerprints on the candlestick? Apart from… Lancelot’s, obviously.’
‘The only other fingerprints were the maid’s, who Lady Fenwick-Langham confirmed cleaned the room the day before.’
Eleanor leaned forward. ‘And has she an alibi for the time the colonel was killed?’
‘Yes, she was in the parlour with two other servants, who corroborated her statement.’
She leaned back in her chair and groaned.
He strode over and pulled the door open. ‘Brice! Fingerprints, now!’
A scurry of footsteps saw the sergeant back in the room. One look at DCI Seldon’s face brought a stuttered, ‘Shall I take them here, sir?’
‘I’ll do it. Just leave it.’
DCI Seldon flipped the lid of the inkpad and hesitated before asking Eleanor for her hand with his own outstretched. She offered the left first. His hand was warm, strong and surprisingly soft as he rolled each of her fingers in the ink and then onto the accompanying paper. When it was done, he completed the boxes at the bottom of the form.