The Shadow at Greystone Chase (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 10) (25 page)

Freddy glanced at her in surprise at her silence, and was shocked at what he saw, for his friend suddenly looked tired and pale, her brow drawn and her eyes hollow.

‘Are you all right, Angela?’ he said. ‘You look as though you’d had a shock.’

‘Yes, I’m quite all right, thank you,’ she said. ‘We’ll go and say goodbye to the colonel and Miss Atkinson, and then I suppose I’d better pay a visit to Scotland Yard. It’s about time I told them the truth about everything.’

Freddy regarded her with sympathy.

‘You’re not really all right, are you, old girl?’ he said. ‘I mean, you put on a good show and all that, but it’s pretty obvious you’re unhappy.’

Angela turned to him suddenly.

‘Unhappy?’ she said bitterly. ‘Why should I be unhappy? I’m alive, aren’t I? I have my health and my friends; I’m comfortably off; I’m invited to all the most fashionable parties; I’m spoken of as one of the best-dressed women in London. I have every reason to be perfectly content. Of course, I’m having to face the fact that I sent the man I loved to his death for no good reason, but one can’t have everything, can one? Leaving that aside, I’m about to hand Scotland Yard the solutions to two crimes, so in addition to everything else I can pique myself on my own cleverness. They might arrest me when I tell them the truth, but let’s not worry about that, shall we?’

‘Then why tell them?’ said Freddy, taken aback. ‘Why not keep it to yourself?’

‘And add another lie to my account? Thank you, Freddy—I appreciate your concern, but it’s time I put things right.’

She refused to say another word on the subject and in fact relapsed into silence for the rest of the journey. By the time they arrived in Denborough she was her usual cheerful self again, as though her earlier outburst had never happened. Freddy was tactful enough not to mention it, but he felt he had seen a side of Angela he had only ever suspected existed, for her cool façade was the result of long practice and she did not let it down lightly. Now he knew for certain that she felt things as deeply as anybody else he could not help but admire the strength of character she had shown over the past few months, for evidently it had taken great effort and was not merely borne of an inability to feel.

They found Miss Atkinson about to leave, and Freddy gallantly offered to accompany her to the station with her luggage. The two of them went off, and Angela found herself assailed by a sudden urge to visit Greystone Chase one last time, for she could not help thinking that it was only fair to warn Godfrey of what was about to happen. After all, the police would surely want to come and question the de Lisles again, and they might, not unreasonably, be curious as to why the whole thing had been stirred up again. How would Godfrey take it, she wondered. Would he be angry? She had no idea as to whether he had liked his father or not.

As she approached the house she stopped to look at it. Solid and imposing as it was, it gave no sign of the unhappiness which had dwelt within its walls for so many years. Soon it would be sold and another family would come to live there, and perhaps erase the bad memories. As she stood there she saw a figure she recognized come out and walk down the path towards the gates. It was Victorine de Lisle. She hesitated briefly when she saw Angela, then changed direction and came towards her.

‘You again,’ she said in her brusque manner.

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘I really came to see your husband.’

‘He is in France, and will not be back until next week,’ said Victorine.

‘That’s a pity,’ said Angela. ‘I had something important to tell him—to tell you both. New evidence has been found which proves that Edgar de Lisle didn’t kill his wife after all.’

‘Oh?’ said Victorine with distant interest. ‘Who did it?’

‘I think you know,’ said Angela.

Victorine raised her eyebrows.

‘I suppose now you are going to say it was my father-in-law,’ she said.

‘Yes. Did you know before?’

‘He was in love with her,’ said Victorine. ‘It was never mentioned, of course. If Edgar did not do it then of course it must have been Roger. Who else could it have been?’

‘But why didn’t you say something at the time, if you suspected?’

‘I did not suspect anything then,’ said Victorine. ‘Perhaps afterwards, but by then it was too late. And what purpose could it serve to bring it all up again? I had no proof, and we still had to live with him.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Do you suppose it would have been good for domestic harmony to have one half of the family accusing the other half of murder? I could do nothing—nor did I wish to.’

‘You seem anxious to protect Roger,’ said Angela. ‘Why?’

‘Protect him?’ said Victorine. ‘Of course I did not want to protect him. He was a wicked, wicked man. He told his own wife he had seen Edgar kill Selina, and he almost convinced her of it. She died of a broken heart. I liked Evelyn, but I hated him more than I have ever hated anyone, especially for how he treated Godfrey—how he treated all of us. We suffered for years from his cruelty until we thought we could no longer bear it. He was a vicious, black-hearted man, who caused nothing but unhappiness.’

‘Then why didn’t you do something?’ said Angela. ‘He got away with murder and was never punished.’

‘What makes you think he was not punished?’ said Victorine.

Angela looked up and saw a glint in her eye.

‘Why, because he was never arrested for the murder or even suspected of it,’ she said.

‘No,’ said Victorine. ‘But there are other forms of punishment. The devil always comes to claim his own in the end.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Angela.

‘He is dead, no?’ said Victorine. ‘He died painfully, of food poisoning. At least that is what they say. Godfrey and I were there at the time. He suffered greatly, and then he died.’

She said it carelessly, and there was a smile playing about her lips. Angela regarded her curiously. Was this a confession? It would not have surprised her in the least to discover that Victorine had taken matters into her own hands—those large, strong hands of hers which might have squeezed the life out of a slightly-built girl had she wanted them to. Had they instead administered a lethal dose of something to Roger de Lisle? Victorine held her gaze, still wearing that satisfied smile, and Angela, after a moment’s thought, decided not to rise to the challenge. She had had enough of the de Lisles and their intrigues, she realized, and wanted no more of them. Let them all murder each other if they liked; she no longer cared. Victorine might enjoy her triumph—if such it was—in peace. Whether or not it was an empty boast, Angela could not find it in her heart to feel sorry for Roger de Lisle. He had been a wicked man, but his soul was long beyond the reach of mortal man to save.

‘I gather food poisoning can be a terrible thing,’ she said politely at last.

Victorine nodded in satisfaction.

‘I expect there will be a new investigation into Selina’s murder,’ she said, as though Roger had never been mentioned. ‘We shall be here if the police wish to speak to us.’

And with that she turned on her heels and went on her way.

T
HE TIME HAD now come to hand over the evidence of Roger de Lisle’s guilt to Scotland Yard. Charles Gilverson, who was overjoyed at Angela’s success, was only too keen to accompany her, as was Freddy, but she insisted on going alone, for she had an explanation to make which she did not want anybody else to hear. Accordingly, she presented herself and asked to see Inspector Alec Jameson. She had seen little of him in recent months—partly because he was newly married and had other things to do, and partly because her guilty conscience would not allow her to associate freely with those who were supposed to represent the law when she herself had behaved so badly. This made her sad, for she was very fond of Jameson and his wife, but she had judged it better to keep away from them as far as possible in order not to put them in a difficult position.

Jameson himself came out to greet her.

‘Now, isn’t that odd,’ he said when he saw her. ‘I was just thinking about you and wondering where you’d been hiding. And now here you are!’

‘Yes, here I am,’ she replied. ‘Do you have a moment? Or perhaps an hour or two might be more to the purpose. I’ve something rather important to tell you.’

‘Why, of course,’ he said, surprised at her sober expression. He ushered her into his office and they sat. ‘What is it?’

Angela brought out the letters she and Freddy had taken from Jemima and Maria Winkworth.

‘A few weeks ago, I was asked to look into a murder which took place eleven years ago, in Kent,’ she said. ‘A man was arrested and found guilty of the crime, but escaped and was never hanged. He died a few years later, still protesting his innocence. I have now found proof that someone else committed the murder, and I should like you to arrange for the new evidence to be submitted to the Home Office so that the man may be granted a posthumous pardon.’

‘Goodness me,’ said Jameson. ‘I thought you had decided to give up detecting, but it appears you’ve changed your mind.’

‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ said Angela. ‘This was a particular case and I didn’t feel I could say no. The man in question is Edgar de Lisle, better known to you as Edgar Valencourt. He didn’t murder his wife, and I can prove it.’

Jameson regarded her in astonishment.

‘Edgar Valencourt? You mean the man who killed your husband?’ he said.

‘Yes, well, that’s another matter,’ said Angela in some confusion. She recovered herself quickly. ‘I’ll come to that in a moment. Let me tell you about the murder of Selina de Lisle first.’

She did so methodically, starting from the letter she had received from Mr. Gilverson—although she did not mention her letter from Edgar Valencourt—and ending with their visit to Miss Winkworth in Poplar.

‘Here are the letters Jemima Winkworth sent to her sister,’ she said at last, handing them to Jameson. ‘As you can see, it seems rather obvious that she witnessed the murder itself—or near enough, at least. And Roger de Lisle’s behaviour in spiriting her out of the house immediately and promising her money in return for her silence certainly seems incriminating to me. I’m not sure whether our methods in obtaining the letter from Jemima in the nursing-home were strictly legal, but I rather think Maria Winkworth will keep quiet about it.’

‘Let me look at this before I decide whether to give you a telling-off,’ said Jameson. He read the documents quickly, then sat back. ‘Well, at first glance it certainly looks as though you might have a case, although I shall have to look into it more carefully—and, of course, I don’t make this sort of decision. It will all have to be passed to the powers-that-be first.’

‘But you think there’s a possibility he might be pardoned?’ said Angela eagerly.

‘Who knows?’ said Jameson. ‘These things take months, but I’ve seen pardons granted on less evidence than this.’

‘If it can be proved that Henry Lacey was also murdered, then I think the case against Roger might be strengthened,’ said Angela. ‘I don’t know how that might be done, though.’

‘We can certainly look into it,’ said Jameson. ‘But Angela, why did you agree to investigate this? I should have thought that you, of all people, would be the last person to want to help Edgar Valencourt, the murderer of your husband.’

Angela steeled herself. It was time to tell the whole truth.

‘That’s just it,’ she said. ‘He didn’t kill Davie.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Jameson. ‘Of course he killed Davie. All the evidence fitted, and he actually confessed to it.’

Angela brought out another document which she had been keeping with her solicitor. It was the signed statement from Callie Vandermeer, who had been a witness to Davie’s death.

‘You’d better read this,’ she said, and handed it to him.

There was silence as the inspector read the document carefully. When he had finished he looked up in surprise.

‘What’s all this?’ he said. ‘Who is this woman? This isn’t what happened.’

‘I’m afraid it is,’ said Angela. ‘She’s in America at present, but she has promised to come and testify to what she saw if needs be. I haven’t the slightest doubt that she was telling the truth. Freddy and I found her after I was released and got her to sign this statement. She had the keys to my flat in her possession when we spoke to her.’

‘But then why did Valencourt confess to having done it?’ said Jameson, who was becoming increasingly perplexed.

Angela looked at her hands.

‘I have a confession of my own to make,’ she said. ‘And I’m afraid you’re going to be terribly disappointed in me.’ She looked up, took a deep breath, and went on, ‘Edgar Valencourt was a—a friend of mine. I lied to the court when I said I’d never met him. I was with him on the night Davie died. I didn’t kill Davie—I wasn’t even at home that night—but it was obvious they were going to find me guilty, so Edgar came forward and took the blame on my behalf. I should have told you sooner, but he escaped and there didn’t seem any sense in it after that. Still, the very least I could do after he saved me was to try and help him in return. Now I have. It’s too late for him, of course, because he’s dead now, but I won’t let it be said he was a murderer when he was nothing of the sort.’