‘Are you saying, my lord, that all we have to do is to write to this coroner and say we think the Earl was murdered?’
‘Well, Inspector, I think we have to be a bit more specific than that about the very unusual circumstances of this case. Three members of the late Earl’s family are suspects after all. There is the fact of the body being brought up across the horse with nobody able to see his face apart from three people, the doctor who is dead, the steward who has disappeared, and the new Lord Candlesby who is ambiguous, if you recall, on whether he actually looked at the body or not. There is the matter of the doctor, according to himself, being bullied to provide the verdict of death by natural causes, when he knew it wasn’t true. Then, of course, removed from the pressure in the Candlesby stables, the doctor recants and says he believed the man was murdered. I think we need to stress that if any responsible person from the police force had seen the dead man they would have been able to form a view as to whether he was murdered or not. On balance, I would say we believe he was murdered by person or persons unknown. If not – and if the body is untouched, unmarked, inviolate – then we shall still be performing an act of public service by removing the rumours and gossip that are already swirling round the Earl’s death.’
‘That all sounds very persuasive to me,’ said the Inspector.
‘One other thought,’ said Powerscourt. ‘I leave it up to you and the Chief Constable whether to act upon it or not. I think I should say that we propose to bring in the new Earl, the red-headed chap, for questioning. If we do it at the right time, we could arrest him immediately after the post-mortem and the inquest.’
‘Do you think he did it, my lord?’
‘I’m not sure about that. It all seems rather elaborate, if you follow me, the hunt meeting, the despatch of Jack Hayward to collect the body, all that business in the stables which looks so suspicious you think he can’t possibly have done it. Why not just push your father down some stone staircase when nobody’s looking? “He must have tripped, Inspector, what a shame.”’
‘I shall go and talk to the Chief Constable now, my lord. This is one of the days when he’s causing chaos with us rather than with the people in Lincoln.’
‘I am going to pay a visit to the unfortunate Lawrences, who have had to sell their worldly goods. I wonder what they will have to say for themselves.’
Johnny Fitzgerald had called on one lot of Candlesby relations already. These Harringtons lived at The Limes, Lower Wrangle Lowgate, very near the coast. They had not heard, or pretended not to have heard, the news of the death of Lord Candlesby. Johnny supposed it was just about possible if they didn’t read any newspapers and hadn’t been out into town or into society since the death. He had found the reactions to the death unusual, to say the least.
‘I say,’ said Rupert Harrington, the paterfamilias, ‘I know we’re not supposed to put it like this, but this is the best news I’ve had for ages. Have you heard, Agnes,’ he called out to his wife who was arranging flowers in the next room, ‘that bastard Candlesby is dead!’
‘Are you sure?’ replied a rather feeble female voice.
Harrington looked at Johnny who nodded vigorously.
‘No doubt at all,’ he yelled through the wall. ‘Definitely dead.’
‘What marvellous news, darling,’ the distant wife said. ‘I’ll ask Simmons to bring up some champagne straight away.’
So, over a glass or two of Dom Perignon, the Harringtons told Johnny their story. They had never gone willingly to any of the christenings or funerals where their presence had been recorded by the Reverend Tobias Flint. Mrs Harrington, she explained, had been brought up to regard the family as the centre of the world, its rituals sacrosanct, its requests for attendance at family events to be obeyed at all times.
‘So, you see,’ Mrs Harrington explained, ‘I would have been letting the family down if I hadn’t gone to those functions. Thank God, we won’t have to go to any more now. But, Mr Fitzgerald, I can’t believe you came over here just to tell us the Earl is dead.’
‘How right you are, Mrs Harrington. Let me explain.’ Johnny told them about the corpse being brought up the drive to join the hunt by Jack Hayward, of the diversion of the body into the stables, of Jack Hayward’s disappearance. Was he, perhaps, with them, helping out with horses maybe, being generally useful about the place? He was not, they told him. They only had two horses and they were old now, not fit recipients of the equine experience of a man such as Hayward. They wished Johnny good luck but had no suggestions for him.
The Harringtons of Silk Willoughby Hall had certainly heard of the death. Their reaction had been similar to that of their cousins near the sea. They had celebrated by going out to dinner in the most expensive hotel for miles around.
‘I did go to the funeral, I admit that. Maybe it was hypocritical,’ St John Harrington told Johnny, ‘but I did want to see how the other mourners behaved. Mourners? I’ve seldom seen so many happy people in my life, rejoicing that the old bastard was dead and come to make sure he was put away in that chilly mausoleum for good. One fellow told me it was one of the finest days of his life. Rarely can death have brought so much joy to those remaining.’
These Harringtons had horses, plenty of horses. Johnny could see them trotting round one of the fields outside the windows. But they were not entertaining Jack Hayward and his family.
‘I knew Jack Hayward quite well,’ Daisy Harrington told Johnny. ‘He used to come over sometimes and advise me about which horses to sell, that sort of thing. If you’re trying to find him you’re having to guess if he went where he was told by the Candlesbys, or where he decided to go himself, aren’t you? Well, if you’ve come to us because you think Jack was sent here by the family, then you’re wrong.’
Johnny wondered if he could enrol Daisy Harrington as a colleague in his quest.
‘You see, he was very independent, Jack,’ she continued. ‘I don’t think he’d have felt happy going somewhere he was told to go to; I don’t think he’d have felt his family were safe and secure.’
‘So where do you think I should be looking, Mrs Harrington?’
‘I don’t know. But I don’t think you’ll find him with any of the Candlesby relations.’
‘Which means I shall have to try his wife’s relations or his friends or places where he worked before.’
Daisy Harrington was frowning. ‘I do know where he worked before he came here,’ she said, ‘but I can’t remember the name of the trainer, I really can’t. It was in Newmarket, that’s all I can remember, you know, where lots of racehorses are bred and brought up. Jack used to tell me about those days sometimes.’
‘Thank you very much,’ said Johnny. ‘I’m most grateful. I shall set off for Newmarket.’
As he made his way out of the house Daisy Harrington’s voice followed him down the path. ‘I say, Mr Fitzgerald, why all this interest in a groom who’s disappeared? You don’t think the Earl had a stroke or a heart attack or anything like that, do you?’
She waited in vain for Johnny Fitzgerald to answer. ‘You think he was murdered, don’t you?’
Her voice followed him down the drive and round the corner at the bottom. Daisy Harrington stood very still at her door for some time, staring at her empty drive and listening to the silence of the late afternoon.