“Between clothes and what are termed, I believe, accessories, there is a substantial difference. I doubt whether Mrs Trevelyan-Twigg would trouble herself about the difference in weight between two handbags or two pieces of imitation jewellery, for example, provided that these were appropriate to the garment which was being displayed.”
“Strikes me as a moot point, but you always have an answer to everything.”
“I doubt that very much. However, I suggest that we leave our unfruitful speculations regarding the death of Falstaff, and turn our attention to the equally mysterious death of Henry VIII. Of this we know very little. His, of course, is the other costume the police have retained, therefore it is clear that the dramatic society hired their pageant costumes and the costumes for the play from the same firm. We must find out more about the death of Mr Spey.”
“I’d better go to the library tomorrow and ask to look at all the newspapers we missed while we were on our cruise.”
“We can do better. I have requested our dear Robert to come and see me. I know that he is not in charge of the case, but I have no doubt that, in his position at Scotland Yard, he is fully informed about it. I propose to pick his brains.”
“If any,” said Laura, who made a point of belittling her husband in case anyone should suspect that she was still in love with him.
Detective Chief-Superintendent (recently promoted) Robert Gavin presented himself for lunch.
“Well, Casanova!” said his wife, when he was shown in. “So you’ve been making love to Mrs Croc., behind my back, have you?”
“On the contrary,” replied Gavin, kissing her before she could prevent him, “she has been making love to me. And what could be nicer? Well, what’s Kitty’s next-of-kin been up to?”
“He isn’t her next of kin, but he is a perishing nuisance. So are you, but at least you can give us the information we’re in need of.”
“And that is?”
“About Henry VIII, chump.”
“I only know about his wives. They were (in order of appearance) Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, Katherine Howard and Katherine Parr. In other words, as they “learnt” us at school, they were “divorced, beheaded, died; divorced, beheaded, survived.” What with his narrow choice of his wives’ names and his equally narrow choice of his wives’ fates, bluff King Hal can hardly, in my estimation, be called an original thinker.”
“Granted, and now quit stalling.”
“Well, not an awful lot is known, and what is known is rather bizarre.”
“So we gathered, but, you see, by the time we got back from our cruise I suppose it was all old hat.”
“There wasn’t much in the papers, as a matter of fact. All that we know is as follows: the police, naturally enough, picked on the two actors who’d carried Luton off the stage…”
“Yes, we know all about that. The police gave them a stinking time, and then Spey was killed.”
“Yes, indeed. They were very closely questioned, but there was nothing to connect them with Luton’s death. It seems to be established that they dumped the basket down in the wings and tore off to the public house.”
“Where was Falstaff’s page? He was off stage at the time. Didn’t he see anything?” asked Laura, struck by a sudden idea.
“It seems not. The misguided child was restoring his tissues and replacing lost energy by consuming sticky buns, sausage rolls and soft drinks in the room set aside for refreshments. As a member of the cast, he had his for free, and apparently did himself proud. His presence at the buffet table is sworn to by the couple of stout-hearted ladies who were serving behind the counter there.”
“Having given the place the once-over,” said Laura, “I’m convinced that Falstaff was persuaded to go into the washroom which is labelled (believe it or not) Bouquets. I’m sure the murder took place there, and that they washed the blood off their hands under the water-tap and disposed of the nylon overalls they put on over their stage-clothes to prevent them getting bloodstained.”
“There were only two nylon overalls kept in the room, I’m told. Both have been accounted for and neither is bloodstained.”
“That’s nonsense!”
“How so, dear heart?”
“There must be four overalls. They’d have to be laundered, so there would be two on and two off, don’t you see? I thought three at first, but there must have been four.”
“There were only two overalls, Laura. Everything at the Town Hall has been very carefully checked and only one woman had charge of that particular room, so only two overalls were considered necessary. Unless there was a “do” on, involving flowers, the two overalls, both clean, stayed put on their pegs, and that’s where the police found them.”
“Oh, I see. That disposes of that, then. Now tell us about Henry VIII. You said the whole thing was bizarre. Because the corpse had been beheaded, do you mean?”
“That, of course, but, in addition, the chap was not only wearing the Henry VIII costume, but the body was lying at the side of a private road leading to a ducal mansion where the body of Henry himself rested one night on the way to its burial at Windsor.”
“Is it known why the fancy dress?”
“No, but the other chap, Gordon, put out a plausible theory. He said that Spey fancied himself in the get-up and had probably kept it on hire to be photographed in it. But even if he did, I can’t see that it helps much. It couldn’t supply any clues to motive or opportunity.”
“What about the means?”
“We don’t know until we find the head. There were no marks of violence on the body and there was no trace of poison.”
“How long had he been dead?”
“For several days. The road is very little used, especially in the early morning, and a fellow who had a job to do in the park found the body on the Tuesday at eight o’clock or thereabouts. He reported it up at the house—the family are not in residence—and the factotum there immediately telephoned the police. The police doctor examined the body at about nine o’clock and in his report he stated that rigor had completely passed off.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, the onset is about five or six hours after death, and rigor isn’t complete, under ordinary circumstances, until twelve to eighteen hours have elapsed. It lasts about another twelve hours and then takes about the same time to pass off. Of course, rigor is only a rough guide. It depends upon all sorts of factors, including the previous health of the deceased, his age, the degree of fatigue or shock, the temperature of the place where the body was found—all very important and misleading.”
“Yes, I see. Anything more to tell?”
“I don’t think so. Except for the usual give and take among the members of the drama club, he doesn’t seem to have made any enemies. You probably know as much about him as the police do. He didn’t owe money, or go off with somebody else’s wife, or belong to the Mafia or…”
“But he must have been a menace to somebody. He must have had the goods on whoever murdered Falstaff.”
“Such is the theory of the police, who, whatever the verdict at the inquest may have been, still think Luton met with foul play and are keeping their files open with that supposition in mind. I wonder whether Spey himself hired the Henry VIII costume in which he was found dead, or whether the drama club did? Not that it makes any difference, I suppose.”
“I can answer that one,” said Laura. She described her visit to the costumiers.
“Wouldn’t the drama club have had photographs taken? These amateurs usually do,” said Gavin.
“Those would be taken in groups, I imagine. This, if Mr Spey had decided to be photographed separately, would have been a private venture,” said Dame Beatrice.