Murder and Mittens

Chapter 19

  Etta stayed in her bedroom until lunchtime. She was dreading going downstairs and the inevitable questions. She was sure that everyone would have heard that she had been arrested by Inspector Brighton. She tiptoed down the stairs and opened the door to the dining room, very slowly, wondering what sort of reception she would get.

  Dorothy Mowbray looked up, ‘oh Hetty, there you are, come and sit by me.’

  Etta made her way to the vacant seat by Dorothy.

  ‘How are you feeling, Hetty?’ Marjorie Mowbray asked. ‘Such a dreadful experience for you.’

  Dorothy frowned at her but Etta blinked back sudden tears, touched by her kind words.

  ‘I’ve explained about someone planting the necklace and the inspector jumping to conclusions,’ Miss Mittens told her.

  ‘Disgraceful business, blustered Sir James. ‘And I shall tell the inspector so, falsely accusing guests under my roof.’

  ‘Now, dear,’ Lady Mowbray said, ‘do lets talk about something else, we don’t want to upset Miss Ashcroft. After all, I have got my necklace back.’

  Miss Mittens looked thoughtful at that remark and then said, ‘I wonder, Agatha, if you have thought of having your necklace examined when you get it back from the police.’

  ‘You mean for any damage?’

  ‘I was thinking more of having it assessed to make sure that it really is your necklace.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ Sir James said instantly. ‘My wife had her necklace stolen, it’s been found, why wouldn’t be it her necklace?’

  Miss Mittens made no reply but Lady Mowbray became lost in thought. Then she stirred herself and said to Etta, ‘I do apologise; here we are still talking about this dreadful business. What would you like for dinner tonight, my dear?’

  Etta realised that Lady Mowbray was one of those people who believed in comfort eating. Sadly, Etta couldn’t ask for any of her favourites, Tandoori Chicken and Pilau Rice, or Singapore Fried Noodles or Baileys Ice Cream.

  ‘Er, could we have a Raspberry Pavlova?’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve heard of that one,’ Lady Mowbray said.

  Etta realised she had chosen a dessert that hadn’t been invented in the thirties. She should have thought longer before selecting one. She tensed.

  ‘Oh, I have,’ her daughter said unexpectedly. ‘It’s new, named after Anna Pavlova, the famous ballerina.’

  ‘What is it?”

  ‘A meringue base filled with whipped cream and soft fruit,’ Etta said.

  ‘I’m not sure that cook will be up to a dish that she hasn’t got the recipe for,’ said Lady Mowbray doubtfully.

  ‘Course, she will,’ Sir James insisted, ‘we’ve got a damn fine cook, excuse my language, ladies. She can turn her hand to anything.’

  The conversation drifted to reminiscences of some of cook’s finest moments. This suited Etta. She was content to sit and eat the lunch of what she was informed was watercress salad. She picked at it cautiously, not sure what it might contain but it had successive layers of sliced tomato, shredded parsley, cold, sliced potato and young sprigs of watercress and a few anchovies. Etta liked anchovies on pizzas and wasn’t so sure about them in salads but she ate them anyway. She felt rewarded when dessert turned out to be lemon tart with cream.

  After lunch, they went to sit in the drawing room. Stewart Grenadier sat next to her on the sofa, to her surprise and to Dorothy Mowbray’s from the look on her face.

  ‘I wanted to say personally, how sorry I am about what happened. It must have been a jolly rotten experience for you.’

  Once again, Etta wondered if she had misjudged Stewart. He was smiling at her, his teeth looked very white in his tanned face and his brown eyes were gazing sympathetically at her.

  ‘Thank you. It was,’ Etta paused, ‘an uncomfortable experience.’

  Stewart smile widened. ‘I bet it was. You’re a plucky little woman, Hetty.’

  Did people really speak like that then thought Etta.

  Stewart was still speaking. ‘I’d like to know who the swine was that put the necklace in your room.’

  ‘So would I,’ Etta said dryly.

  ‘What an unspeakably beastly thing to do. Do you or the police have any idea who it was and why they chose you?’

  They were good questions. ‘No, it could have been any one.’

  ‘Well, let me know if I can be of any help.’

  He smiled at her again and got up from the sofa. He was swiftly replaced by Dorothy Mowbray.

  ‘What was Stewart talking to you about?’

  ‘About who might have put the necklace in my room. He was very kind.’

  ‘Oh. Yes, he can be kind.’ Dorothy looked at him, worshipping him with her gaze. ‘And he’s brave too. Did you know he once rescued a woman from a tiger that was about to kill her by shooting it.’

  One less tiger in the world, thought Etta, even if it was a fictional one.

  She heard a snort that was quickly turned into a cough. She looked up and Algernon Wainwright was standing by the sofa.

  ‘It’s true, Algy,’ exclaimed Dorothy.

  ‘If you say so, Dotty.’

  ‘I certainly do.’

  She got up and moved across to where Stewart was standing out of the window. Algernon sat down next to Etta. I’m like Piccadilly Circus, she thought.

  ‘She’d believe anything that feller told her,’ he said gloomily. ‘That’s why I’m so worried about her.’ He looked after Dorothy, standing so tall and proud next to Stewart with her hand on his arm and with an effort, switched his attention back to Etta. ‘Sorry, Miss Ashcroft, I mean Miss Ashdown, how are you? I bet you hadn’t expected getting arrested as one of the perks of the job.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Etta said automatically although she was not sure if she was.

  ‘That’s the spirit. Do you mind if we talk business?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  He lowered his voice. ‘I saw you talking to Stewart Grenadier. What did he want?’ The same question as Dorothy Mowbray although for different reasons.

  ‘He wanted to know if I, or the police knew who had planted the necklace in my room. He said to let him know if he could be of any use.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Algernon smiled. ‘You know, I thought our little plan hadn’t worked and he hadn’t taken the bait but perhaps he was just waiting for an opportunity to impress you.’ He changed the topic of conversation. ‘What news from your mother?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘What did she find anything in the Mowbrays’ bedroom last night?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Etta confessed.

  He frowned.

  ‘Sorry,’ she offered.

  ‘My man Taylor told me that she told him that she had found something but they got interrupted before she could say. I was hoping she would have told you. As we agreed, I only speak to you and Taylor speaks to her.’

  Etta felt guilty. ‘I’ll ask her as soon as I can and let you know,’ she promised.

  ‘Good enough. Oh, and remember, if Dennis or Mr Spinoza want to talk to you about investments, let them. Try and make a note of the conversation afterwards. We may need that as evidence.’ He got up and moved away.

  Miss Mitten promptly took his place. Never mind Piccadilly Circus, this is Heathrow and the planes are circling to land.

  ‘Recovered from your ordeal?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘That’s the ticket,’ Miss Mittens said approvingly, nodding her head. ‘Now, things are beginning to get interesting aren’t they?’

  ‘You could say that,’ said Etta.

  ‘We need to work out why the jewel thief put the necklace in with your jewellery and nobody else’s. When should be fairly easy to work out. Do you know the last time you used your jewellery box? Was it last night?’

  ‘No because I forgot to take my pearls off and slept in them. And I didn’t open it this morning.’

  ‘So the thief could have slipped them in at some point during t
he day or evening yesterday. Unfortunately, this will make the police think that it does make it more likely to be a member of staff. They could go into a bedroom without being challenged.’

  ‘But the bedrooms are awfully quiet during the day, practically anyone could go in and out without being seen if they were careful,’ Etta challenged.

  ‘Quite true and something we may need to remind the police about. So, we have one diamond necklace but not the murder weapon. We still need to find the murder weapon.’