The Problem at Two Tithes (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 7) (11 page)

‘She’ll probably try and send you away with a flea in your ear,’ said Primm. ‘They set great store by their respectability, the Cardews, and I don’t suppose she’ll relish being associated with murder.’

‘Nobody is associating them with anything—unless, of course, Lady Cardew has a motive you haven’t told me about.’

‘No,’ said Primm. ‘She’d probably be scandalized if she caught Tom using a fish fork for the beef, but I don’t suppose she’d go so far as to blow his brains out.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it. Very well, then, let’s move on to Norman Tipping. What can you tell me about him?’

‘A bit overbearing like his father, but without Tom’s sense of humour,’ said Primm. ‘Although, of course, that might be to his advantage. He’s always struck me as a bit staid and dull—and pleased with himself for it.’

‘Was he on good terms with his father?’ said Jameson.

‘I believe so,’ said Primm. ‘In fact, as far as I know, the three of them all got on perfectly well with each other, but of course you never know what goes on behind closed doors, do you?’

‘What motive might he have had, then?’ said Jameson. ‘Money, presumably.’

‘Yes,’ said Primm. ‘I don’t know the exact state of affairs, but I imagine the farm will go to him one day, and it may be that he gets some money now, too. Once we’ve heard from Tom’s solicitor we’ll know more, but he’s away until tomorrow. Norman is certainly a likely suspect, since we know he was nearby at the time of his father’s death. Who’s to say he wasn’t lying about what happened on Dead Man’s Path that day?’

‘He was with Mrs. Montgomery, though, wasn’t he?’ said Jameson.

‘Of course,’ said Primm, ‘but there’s nothing to say she wasn’t in on it too. She’s got a big enough motive to keep quiet if she’s going to marry Norman Tipping. She’s poor, you know—her husband died just after the war and left her with a little boy and not much money, and I’m sure she’d rather not have to rely on her sister and brother-in-law for the lad’s support. She’s got every reason to keep quiet if Norman
did
do it.’

Jameson did not like the thought of this one bit, but made no comment. Instead, he said:

‘We must question this Daniel Tyler who passed them on Dead Man’s Path. Perhaps you might speak to him, Primm. We need to know exactly when the shotgun blast was heard, and whether there was time for Norman Tipping to have done the deed before Tyler came on the scene.’

‘Right you are, sir,’ said the sergeant.

‘In the meantime I shall go and have a word with Norman Tipping myself,’ said Jameson. ‘I’d like to know what he has to say about his father. I believe you said he lives on the edge of the village.’

‘That’s right,’ said Primm. ‘At the other end of Dead Man’s Path, as a matter of fact.’

‘Did Norris never take issue with him using the path?’

‘Oh no,’ said Primm. ‘Norman’s far too careful of himself to get caught up in someone else’s row. He never let himself get drawn into it.’

‘Sensible fellow,’ said Jameson. ‘Well, then, let’s see what he has to say for himself.’

Norman Tipping’s house was situated on the very outskirts of Banford Green and was square and solid, rather like the man himself, with little decoration about its exterior. When Inspector Jameson rang the bell, the door was answered by a young woman brandishing a broom who informed him that Mr. Tipping was out and not expected back immediately. The woman looked familiar to Jameson, but it was not until she had shut the door that he remembered who she was: it was Alice Hopwell, who lived in the cottage that backed on to the Red Lion, although she had shown no sign that she recognized him.

He set off back into Banford with a sigh. It was a walk of only half a mile or so but the weather was pleasant and the countryside around him attractive, and so he decided to take a little detour past a cluster of pretty cottages that stood off to one side of where Dead Man’s Path began. He was just regarding the first one and admiring its colourful window-boxes and neatly-painted fence, when he saw that someone was kneeling by a border in the front garden, weeding. It was Kathie Montgomery. She glanced up.

‘Hallo, inspector,’ she said, and smiled as though she were pleased to see him.

Jameson took a second to find his voice.

‘Hallo, Mrs. Montgomery,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t realize this was your house.’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘It’s very pretty,’ he said.

‘It is, isn’t it? I like it here. I know it’s only small, but it’s big enough for Peter and me—and he’s away at school most of the time, anyway.’

‘It’s term-time now, though. Has he been ill?’ said Jameson.

‘Yes, with measles. Rather a bad attack, unfortunately. He’s much better now, but I thought I’d better keep him at home for a few more days, just to be on the safe side. He won’t stay in and rest, though. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him, have you?’

‘Not since we left him earlier. He said something about scouting about for footprints. I feel rather guilty now—I’m afraid we made him run this morning. I do hope he won’t feel any ill effects from it.’

‘Oh, no, I’m sure he won’t,’ she said. ‘I dare say I’m just being a little over-anxious. He’s all I have, you see.’

‘Of course,’ said Jameson.

‘Have you been speaking to Norman?’ she said, looking in the direction of Norman Tipping’s house.

‘That’s why I came up here, but he’s not in,’ said Jameson. ‘I wonder, might I speak to you instead?’

She stood up and brushed the earth off her hands.

‘Certainly,’ she said. ‘Let’s go inside. Everyone knows everyone else’s business here, so if you want to say anything private it’s best to do it indoors.’

He followed her into the cottage and found that the inside was just as neat and trim as the outside. Kathie showed him into a tiny parlour that looked out on to the front garden.

‘I must just go and wash my hands,’ she said. ‘Would you like some tea? Weeding’s thirsty work, and I should rather like a cup myself.’

Jameson usually said no to tea when it was offered to him by possible murder suspects, but instead he found himself accepting. He sat politely, looking around him and listening to the sound of her bustling about in the kitchen. She sang as she worked, and Jameson was just thinking to himself what a delightful voice she had when the song was broken off abruptly. She came into the parlour a minute or two later, carrying the tea tray, which he leapt up to take from her. She was a little pink in the face.

‘I’m sorry, I was singing again, wasn’t I?’ she said. ‘I do it without realizing, you see, but of course I oughtn’t to inflict it on my visitors. My sister Elisabeth is always telling me off for it.’

‘I’m sorry you stopped,’ he said. ‘I was rather enjoying it.’

‘That’s kind of you, but I don’t suppose it’s exactly appropriate anyway, given the purpose of your visit—at least, I assume you’re here because of Tom.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ said Jameson. ‘I understand you were one of the first people to find Mr. Tipping on Saturday after he had been shot.’

‘Yes,’ she said soberly. ‘I was.’

She poured some tea and handed it to him.

‘If it’s not too upsetting for you, would you mind telling me what happened?’ said Jameson.

‘Certainly. Where would you like me to start?’

‘I should like to have a general picture of what happened that day,’ said Jameson. ‘I understand you were helping at the fête.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I helped set it up in the morning, then when it opened I was in the tea tent for a little while with my mother, and after that I stood in for Angela Marchmont on the bric-à-brac stall while she went to get something to eat. When she came back I went back to the tea tent and found that Mother had overturned the tea urn and the tablecloth was sopping wet, so I said I’d run home to fetch another.’

‘You came all the way home? Isn’t that rather a long way?’

‘Yes, it is,’ said Kathie. ‘It didn’t occur to me until afterwards that it would have been much quicker to get one from the big house, but—well, Elisabeth’s things are much nicer than mine and she’s rather careful of them, and with Mother tending to spill tea all over the place I thought it made more sense to fetch one of my old ones instead.’

Jameson noted her tact, and said, ‘What time was this?’

‘I left the fête at about a quarter past one, I think. I don’t know what time I got home but it can’t have taken long as I ran most of the way. At any rate, I grabbed a couple of tablecloths and came out and saw Norman, who was just on his way to the fête, so we walked together along Dead Man’s Path. I think we were about halfway there when we met Tom going the other way with his dog. He said he’d see us later and then passed on.’

‘How did he seem to you?’ said Jameson. ‘Did you notice anything unusual in his manner?’

‘No, nothing,’ said Kathie. ‘He seemed quite his normal self.’

‘He didn’t say he was going to meet someone, I suppose?’

‘No, nothing like that. We didn’t stop and chat, or anything like that, just said hello and went on our way. A minute or two later we heard a loud bang, but didn’t think anything of it, and then shortly after that we passed Daniel Tyler going the other way. We’d just arrived at Tithes Field when Daniel came running after us and told Norman that his father had met with an accident. We raced back with him and found—’ here she broke off. ‘Well, you know what we found,’ she finished sombrely. ‘He was quite dead—we could see that straightaway. I ran to fetch the doctor, and the doctor called the police.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you,’ said Jameson.

‘Not at all,’ said Kathie. ‘You have to ask these questions, I quite understand that.’

‘Thank you. Very well, did you see anybody else at all other than Tyler on your way to the fête, either before or after you passed Mr. Tipping?’

‘No,’ said Kathie. ‘There was no-one.’

Jameson paused. He wanted to ask the next question carefully.

‘I’d like to know more about the shot you heard.’ he said at length. ‘You say you heard it shortly after you passed Mr. Tipping and before you met Daniel Tyler. Can you be absolutely certain of that? The three of you didn’t hear it together, for example? Or had you perhaps even already passed Tyler when you heard it?’

She thought for a second.

‘No,’ she said. ‘We heard it first and then saw Daniel afterwards. I know particularly because I remember thinking vaguely when he came into view, “Oh, that must be where the noise came from.” But then I saw he wasn’t carrying a gun and so the thing passed out of my mind.’

‘Was Mrs. Tipping at the fête when it happened, as far as you know?’ he said.

‘Yes, I think so. Norman went to fetch her as soon as the doctor said it was all over. He took her home—avoiding Dead Man’s Path, of course—and I joined them at the farmhouse afterwards, once the police had arrived.’

‘I see,’ said Jameson. He was about to move on to delicate ground. ‘Now, I shall understand if you don’t wish to answer the next question, but I’m afraid I have to ask it all the same.’

He paused.

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘Very well. Here it is: are the family on good terms? I mean to say, what were the relations between Mr. Tipping and his wife and son?’

She did not seem offended, and he was relieved.

‘They got along well enough,’ she replied after a second. ‘Norman was fond of his father, I should say. He was certainly very shocked and upset when he died.’

‘What about Mrs. Tipping?’

Kathie looked uncomfortable.

‘Why, I couldn’t say,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I
believe
they got along well. Norman—or better still, Margaret—will be able to tell you more about that than I can, though.’

She closed her mouth and Jameson said no more, but he was certain that Kathie knew or suspected something about the relationship between Margaret and Tom Tipping that she was unwilling to tell. It was not fair to press her, however—and indeed it would be useless to do so anyway, for experience told him that once a person had decided to withhold something, then nothing he could do would change their mind. It was best to let them come round of their own accord—and indeed, there were other people in the village who would be able to tell him what he wanted to know.

He thanked her, and she said he was quite welcome and offered him more tea. They chatted about other things, and it was not long before they discovered that she knew the sister of an old friend of his. They spent some time exclaiming over the fact, and then ended up talking at length about other people they both knew slightly but cared nothing about, purely—in Jameson’s case, at least—in order to prolong the conversation. At last Jameson glanced at his watch and started, for he had been gone far longer than he intended. She laughed at his rueful face and said that he was welcome to blame his lateness on her, and he said of course he would do nothing of the sort. He stood up and she came to see him out, and there was an awkward moment and a pause when they accidentally brushed against each other in the narrow passageway. He apologized and she said, ‘Oh!’ and looked taken aback, but did not move away from him. They held each other’s gaze for much longer than they ought to have, but then the moment passed and he took his leave and walked back into Banford, his head spinning slightly, wondering whether she had put something in his tea.

As he emerged from Dead Man’s Path he pulled himself together with an effort. Sergeant Primm ought to be back at the station by now, and they could compare notes. Jameson wanted to know what Daniel Tyler had said. If Tyler’s story agreed with Kathie’s then that meant there were no witnesses to confirm that she and Norman had been nowhere near Tom Tipping when he was shot. There was no getting away from the fact that if Kathie was indeed engaged to Norman Tipping, then she had just as much motive as he did for wishing his father dead. But were they really engaged? Nobody seemed quite sure. Jameson wished he had had the courage to ask her. It was his duty as a policeman to ask personal questions in a cold and dispassionate manner, but he had been unable to bring himself to do it. And yet it was vital that they find out, for it meant the difference between a strong and a weak motive. If they were
not
engaged then Kathie was less likely to try and protect Norman, but if they
were
—well, that meant she had far more reason to do so.