And now, it seemed, she was married to the black sheep of the Fortescue family, for Neele assumed that the disagreement with his father, referred to primly by Miss Griffith, stood for some disgraceful incident in young Lancelot Fortescue’s career.
Lancelot Fortescue! What a name! And what was the other son—Percival? He wondered what the first Mrs Fortescue had been like? She’d had a curious taste in Christian names …
He drew the phone towards him and dialled TOL. He asked for Baydon Heath 3400.
Presently a man’s voice said:
‘Baydon Heath 3400.’
‘I want to speak to Mrs Fortescue or Miss Fortescue.’
‘Sorry. They aren’t in, either of ’em.’
The voice struck Inspector Neele as slightly alcoholic.
‘Are you the butler?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Mr Fortescue has been taken seriously ill.’
‘I know. They rung up and said so. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Mr Val’s away up North and Mrs Fortescue’s out playing golf. Mrs Val’s gone up to London but she’ll be back for dinner and Miss Elaine’s out with her Brownies.’
‘Is there no one in the house I can speak to about Mr Fortescue’s illness? It’s important.’
‘Well—I don’t know.’ The man sounded doubtful. ‘There’s Miss Ramsbottom—but she don’t ever speak over the phone. Or there’s Miss Dove—she’s what you might call the ’ousekeeper.’
‘I’ll speak to Miss Dove, please.’
‘I’ll try and get hold of her.’
His retreating footsteps were audible through the phone. Inspector Neele heard no approaching footsteps but a minute or two later a woman’s voice spoke.
‘This is Miss Dove speaking.’
The voice was low and well poised, with clear-cut enunciation. Inspector Neele formed a favourable picture of Miss Dove.
‘I am sorry to have to tell you, Miss Dove, that Mr Fortescue died in St Jude’s Hospital a short time ago. He was taken suddenly ill in his office. I am anxious to get in touch with his relatives—’
‘Of course. I had no idea—’ She broke off. Her voice held no agitation, but it was shocked. She went on: ‘It is all most unfortunate. The person you really want to get in touch with is Mr Percival Fortescue. He would be the one to see to all the necessary arrangements. You might be able to get in touch with him at the Midland in Manchester or possibly at the Grand in Leicester. Or you might try Shearer and Bonds of Leicester. I don’t know their telephone number, I’m afraid, but I know they are a firm on whom he was going to call and they might be able to inform you where he would be likely to be today. Mrs Fortescue will certainly be in to dinner and she may be in to tea. It will be a great shock to her. It must have been very sudden? Mr Fortescue was quite well when he left here this morning.’
‘You saw him before he left?’
‘Oh yes. What was it? Heart?’
‘Did he suffer from heart trouble?’
‘No—no—I don’t think so—But I thought as it was so sudden—’ She broke off. ‘Are you speaking from St Jude’s Hospital? Are you a doctor?’
‘No, Miss Dove, I’m not a doctor. I’m speaking from Mr Fortescue’s office in the city. I am Detective Inspector Neele of the CID and I shall be coming down to see you as soon as I can get there.’
‘Detective Inspector? Do you mean—what do you mean?’
‘It was a case of sudden death, Miss Dove; and when there is a sudden death we get called to the scene, especially when the deceased man hasn’t seen a doctor lately—which I gather was the case?’
It was only the faintest suspicion of a question mark but the young woman responded.
‘I know. Percival made an appointment twice for him, but he wouldn’t keep it. He was quite unreasonable—they’ve all been worried—’
She broke off and then resumed in her former assured manner.
‘If Mrs Fortescue returns to the house before you arrive, what do you want me to tell her?’
Practical as they make ’em, thought Inspector Neele.
Aloud he said:
‘Just tell her that in a case of sudden death we have to make a few inquiries. Routine inquiries.’
He hung up.
Neele pushed the telephone away and looked sharply at Miss Griffith.
‘So they’ve been worried about him lately,’ he said. ‘Wanted him to see a doctor. You didn’t tell me that.’
‘I didn’t think of it,’ said Miss Griffith, and added: ‘He never seemed to me really ill—’
‘Not ill—but what?’
‘Well, just off. Unlike himself. Peculiar in his manner.’
‘Worried about something?’
‘Oh no, not worried. It’s we who were worried—’
Inspector Neele waited patiently.
‘It’s difficult to say, really,’ said Miss Griffith. ‘He had moods, you know. Sometimes he was quite boisterous. Once or twice, frankly, I thought he had been drinking … He boasted and told the most extraordinary stories which I’m sure couldn’t possibly have been true. For most of the time I’ve been here he was always very close about his affairs—not giving anything away, you know. But lately he’s been quite different, expansive, and positively—well—flinging money about. Most unlike his usual manner. Why, when the office boy had to go to his grandmother’s funeral, Mr Fortescue called him in and gave him a five pound note and told him to put it on the second favourite and then roared with laughter. He wasn’t—well, he just wasn’t like himself. That’s all I can say.’
‘As though, perhaps, he had something on his mind?’
‘Not in the usual meaning of the term. It was as though he were looking forward to something pleasurable—exciting—’
‘Possibly a big deal that he was going to pull off?’
Miss Griffith agreed with more conviction.
‘Yes—yes, that’s much more what I mean. As though everyday things didn’t matter any more. He was excited. And some very odd-looking people came to see him on business. People who’d never been here before. It worried Mr Percival dreadfully.’
‘Oh, it worried him, did it?’
‘Yes. Mr Percival’s always been very much in his father’s confidence, you see. His father relied on him. But lately—’
‘Lately they weren’t getting along so well.’
‘Well, Mr Fortescue was doing a lot of things that Mr Percival thought unwise. Mr Percival is always very careful and prudent. But suddenly his father didn’t listen to him any more and Mr Percival was very upset.’
‘And they had a real row about it all?’
Inspector Neele was still probing.
‘I don’t know about a row