‘We both have,’ said Inspector Blunden. ‘We had the body brought out from the family mausoleum. One of England’s most distinguished pathologists is not sure to this day precisely how he was killed.’
‘That was very smart of you,’ said Hayward. ‘Well, what more is there to say? I looked around, I listened very carefully for a couple of minutes but there was nothing or nobody I could see or hear at this point. It was growing lighter by the minute. Any sensible murderer would have been back home tucked up in bed by now.’
‘You were sure even then it was murder?’ asked Powerscourt.
‘Well,’ said Jack Hayward, ‘there couldn’t be any other explanation, could there? Not with wounds like that and one side of his face smashed in like a child’s doll.’
‘So you took him home,’ said the Inspector.
‘Well, this was the most difficult part of it for me. I had the devil of a job to lift the body up on to the back of the horse for a start. The Earl’s horse didn’t like it, you see. They don’t like the smell of human blood, horses. Maybe Marlborough knew it was his master’s blood but I think that is fanciful. Twice I got the body up on the horse’s back only for Marlborough to buck and rear and throw his master to the ground. At one point I thought I might be there for hours.’
‘What did you do?’ The Inspector had filled many pages by now.
‘I took a break. I changed the arrangement of the blankets so that one covered his face. I thought the smell might not be so bad that way, if you were a horse, if you see what I mean. I rubbed some earth over the whole of the body, or rather the blankets that covered it. I took the horse for a walk and talked him through what I wanted him to do. I told him three times. Then I tried to put the body over his back again and this time it worked. I walked Marlborough round and round in a circle for about twenty minutes with the Earl across his back, talking to him all the time, and he was fine. Then we set off for Candlesby Hall. I was up close by Marlborough’s head all the way, whispering to him. I was terrified, you see, that the horse might bolt right away across the county and then where would we be?’
Jack Hayward paused again.
‘I don’t know how long it took me to walk the horse and the old Earl up to the house from the bottom of the drive. Half an hour? Forty-five minutes? I just know it was very slow work.’ He was nearing the end of his tale now, Inspector Blunden and Powerscourt as attentive at the end as they had been at the start.
‘I’d forgotten about the hunt that morning. That was why the master was wearing his scarlet coat, of course. Once I saw them all I grew really alarmed. The horses, not as well trained as my Marlborough, might smell something they didn’t like and head off across the countryside. The ladies might scream if they caught sight of the dead man’s face. So when the Hall was just in sight but still some distance away, I stopped again and tried to rearrange those blankets once more to make sure nothing could be seen. I didn’t know who would take charge of the proceedings. I knew they would all be expecting a live Lord Candlesby to appear at any moment and take charge.’
Jack Hayward stopped and stared at the carpet as if checking his memories.
‘No doubt you will know that we headed for the stables as soon as we could. I managed to have a word with Richard, the new Earl and he agreed to the diversion. It was just as well because Marlborough was growing very tense indeed. It was as if he knew something was wrong. Once we reached the stables I got the body off the horse as quick as I could and on to a table. I found another blanket to put over it. I told a stable boy to take Marlborough away and feed him. I expected the younger Candlesbys to ask where I had found their father but that took some time. All they wanted to do was to cover up the fact that he had been murdered. For some reason, that had to be concealed at all costs. They didn’t care about how he was killed or who might have killed him. They didn’t even seem very sorry. They all talked at once, each one swearing at the others until Richard established some sort of order.’
‘Would you describe them as rational or maybe hysterical?’ asked Powerscourt. ‘Sorry to sound like a doctor, but I’m sure you know what I mean.’
‘I know exactly what you mean, my lord,’ Jack Hayward replied. ‘I think Richard was tending towards the rational, and the other two, Henry and Edward, were very close to being hysterical.’
‘Could I ask just one question at this point?’ The Inspector was chewing hard on the end of his pencil. ‘Were they surprised by their father’s death? You’d have expected them to be in shock, not shouting at each other, surely.’
‘Maybe shock can take a number of forms, I don’t know. You’re really asking me if any of them knew this was coming, aren’t you? I have thought about that for a long long time but I can’t give you an answer. I just don’t know.’
‘So the body is on a table. Richard is taking control. Have they decided to send for Dr Miller yet?’ Powerscourt said, looking past Jack Hayward to the wood behind the garden.
‘Yes, they had. And that was when they got rid of me. I think they had forgotten I was there but they were already discussing how to persuade the doctor to say it was death by natural causes when I was told to go and fetch the doctor and notify the undertakers. But Richard made a point of saying he wished to see me at the stables in an hour’s time.’
This was new information. The Inspector whistled softly to himself. Powerscourt ran his hands through his hair.
Jack Hayward was sounding tired by now. He was speaking more slowly than he had at the beginning. ‘That meeting was very short. He said he wanted me to go away at once, that very afternoon if possible. He gave me five hundred pounds, that’s over two years’ wages for me. He said he didn’t want to know where I had gone. After three months, he said, I was to send him an address and he would tell me if I could come back or not.’
‘Did he say anything about your wife and your children?’ asked the Inspector.
‘They were to come too. You know the rest. I’m sorry, my mind is spinning after going over all this stuff again. Do you think we could stop now or take a break? I’d really like a cup of tea.’
‘Of course,’ said the Inspector. ‘Why don’t you take some time off and come back in an hour? Sorry we kept you at it for so long.’
‘I’d like you to think about what I should do for the best, gentlemen. Should I go back to Ireland for the time being? Or should I go back to my house in Candlesby village?’
Powerscourt and Inspector Blunden were checking their notes when there was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ said the Inspector.
A very out-of-breath Constable Merrick greeted them. ‘Sorry to interrupt, sir, my lord,’ he panted, ‘but they told me at the station that you’d be here.’
‘So?’ The Inspector was sounding rather cross.
‘Sir,’ the young man was almost completely out of breath now, ‘it’s important. I wouldn’t have come and interrupted you if it wasn’t important, sir, my lord.’
‘What is it then?’ asked the Inspector, recalling that Merrick might be very young but that he was far from stupid.
‘Two things, sir.’ The young man took two deep breaths suddenly like they had told him to do in his training when imparting information to superior officers under difficult circumstances. ‘You asked me to check out Oliver Bell’s alibi – the retired clergyman in a nearby cottage who was worried about the storm. There is no clergyman, sir, my lord. There is no cottage either. I checked everywhere, in the village, at the school, with the farm worker who does live in a nearby cottage. And I found the present vicar who happened to be in the village. He’d never heard of any retired vicar or whatever he was in his parish.’
‘Good God!’ said the Inspector. ‘So Oliver Bell has no alibi at all for the entire evening of the storm and the murder! I wonder why he bothered to tell me such a pack of lies. Maybe he thought we wouldn’t check his story.’