‘Victim: Mr Curtis. Cause of death: arsenic poisoning – although this can only be a very good guess, as we don’t have access to the body – again! Honestly, why does this always seem to happen to us?
‘Time of poisoning: tea time. It couldn’t have been any earlier – the book Hazel and I read told us that arsenic usually only takes fifteen minutes or so to begin to work . . . Oh, just think, we really saw the murder happen!’
I shivered, and Beanie squeaked.
‘And if there was any doubt, the missing teacup confirms it. The murderer knew that cup was important evidence, so they got rid of it.’
‘But who is the murderer?’ asked Beanie fearfully.
‘Good question!’ said Daisy, beaming. ‘Because of the way that the murderer broke in to the dining room, Hazel and I have deduced that it must be someone in this house. Only one of us could have known about the spare keys in the umbrella stand, or have been able to slip into Uncle Felix’s room to pinch the key that he had in his pocket.’
Beanie looked terrified. I wanted to tell her that she would be all right – but I couldn’t make myself say it when it might not be true. Had we done something awful by dragging her and Kitty into the investigation?
‘We ought to make a list of suspects,’ I said instead. Lists, as I knew from our last murder case, made everything seem more safe. When it was all down in my casebook it became a puzzle, something we could manage, something more exciting than terrifying.
‘So we ought!’ said Daisy. ‘You know, I have some very good ideas about who it might be.’
I looked at her. Her eyes were gleaming, and every bit of her was at attention and on the scent – just as though Mr Curtis’s death had happened in a faraway house, with quite different people. I thought of Uncle Felix, pretending to everyone that he didn’t know Mr Curtis had been poisoned. I thought of Aunt Saskia, begging Lady Hastings not to call the police, and I thought of Bertie, shouting so angrily at Lady Hastings and Mr Curtis on Friday evening. Was Daisy really excited about suspecting one of her own family?
‘Who?’ I asked cautiously.
‘Well, there is certainly one person who’s been acting particularly suspiciously ever since Mr Curtis arrived.’
We all waited to hear what she would say.
Daisy sighed. ‘Miss Alston, of course,’ she said.
8
Kitty gasped. Of course, I did see what Daisy meant. Miss Alston had been odder than ever since Mr Curtis arrived. I remembered the moment when she had emerged from the maze, and he had spoken to her in that strange way, as though he knew something about her that we did not. But all the same, I was concerned. I remembered what had happened the last time Daisy decided on a suspect so quickly.
‘Are you sure?’ I asked.
Daisy rolled her eyes. ‘No, I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘It’s just a hypothesis. But you have to admit, it’s a good one. We heard what Mr Curtis said to her – he accused her of being at Fallingford for a reason other than being a governess, and I’m sure that’s true. She’s a very suspicious character – I’m certain she has a secret. It’s extremely important that we watch her and try to discover what it is. Write her down on the list. Now, who else?’
I didn’t want to be the first to mention someone from Daisy’s family. I opened my mouth and shut it again. But then Kitty spoke.
‘What about your aunt Saskia?’ she asked. ‘You said that watch of Mr Curtis’s was missing with the teacup. Hasn’t she been absolutely fixated on it all weekend? She might have murdered Mr Curtis to get her hands on it. And she didn’t want your mother to call the police.’
Daisy blinked and frowned.
‘I’m only saying,’ said Kitty, undaunted. ‘You asked who else might have done it.’
‘Yes,’ said Daisy. ‘You’re quite right, of course. We know that the watch is missing, and we also know that Aunt Saskia is always taking things that don’t belong to her. She’s not a thief – people like us aren’t – but she does . . . have a little problem. She’s only ever taken small things that won’t be missed, but I suppose that if she wanted the watch enough she might have done something silly to get it. Write that down too, Hazel.’
‘And what about Uncle Felix?’ I put in, since the plunge had clearly been taken. ‘I know you like him, but you have to admit that he’s been behaving strangely too. Why did he lie about Mr Curtis being poisoned? We overheard him asking the doctor to take samples and send them to London, so we know he thinks it’s suspicious. And remember that conversation we overheard in the maze? He was telling Mr Curtis that if he didn’t leave, he’d do something awful to him. What if the murder was what he meant?’
‘He wouldn’t!’ said Daisy heatedly. ‘He . . . You don’t know Uncle Felix!’
‘Because you won’t tell us about him!’ I said. ‘Are those rumours about him true?’
Daisy flushed. ‘I shan’t tell you,’ she said at last. I had a feeling she really meant, I don’t know. ‘But he— Oh, all right. You can put him down on your list for now. But I’ll rule him out, you’ll see!’
9
At that moment the door opened and Bertie came in, with Stephen just behind him. Bertie was tinkling away at his ukulele again. It had gone flat in the damp, and was letting out sour, off-tune notes. Bertie looked just as angry as he always did, and I wondered about him as a suspect. He did get into such horrible rages – and he knew about Mr Curtis and Lady Hastings.
Daisy wrinkled up her nose at him. ‘Go away,’ she said. ‘We’re busy. What are you playing, anyway?’
‘The funeral march,’ said Bertie, strumming obnoxiously. ‘And I might ask the same thing of you, Squashy. What are you all playing at?’
Daisy glared. ‘A game,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t be interested.’
Bertie narrowed his eyes – looking, as he did so, exactly like Daisy sometimes does. I couldn’t decide whether it was funny or creepy. ‘I know all your secrets, Squashy,’ he said. ‘I’m only lucky that you don’t know all mine.’
‘Why?’ snapped Daisy. ‘What have you done now?’
‘Well, despite what Mother says, I didn’t kill Mr Curtis,’ said Bertie. ‘In fact, I don’t believe anyone did. Do you, Stephen?’
Stephen went pale. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. I could tell that he hated the discussion. I felt quite sorry for him.
‘You see?’ said Bertie. ‘He thinks it’s a stupid question. Honestly, how did Mother get that idea in her head? I know she’s a bit silly sometimes, but this is something else!’
‘Mummy can be an idiot,’ said Daisy. ‘I expect she simply misheard Dr Cooper.’
Bertie snorted, and even Stephen grinned.
‘Now go away,’ Daisy repeated, ‘or we’ll make you play dolls with us.’
‘Horror!’ said Bertie, and he made the ukulele jangle in pain.
I caught Stephen’s eye. His freckles were standing out more than ever, but he gave me a smile, and I felt better at once. Stephen was bearing up, and I could too.
‘All right,’ said Daisy, when they had gone. ‘Thank goodness we don’t really have to play dolls. Back to our suspect list. Who else can we put down? I know who we can rule out. If we’re saying that the poison must have been given to Mr Curtis at tea, it means that the murderer must have been in the dining room itself when tea was served, to drop the poison into his teacup – it can’t have been in the pot, after all. Hetty and Mrs Doherty weren’t there, so they can be ruled out at once – I’m glad about that. Oh, and I say! Don’t you remember how far Mummy made Chapman stand from the tea table? He never went near it. He couldn’t have doctored Mr Curtis’s cup – he’s out too!’
I had suddenly thought of something. ‘How do you think the murderer got the poison into the cup from the tin?’ I asked.
‘Perhaps they wrapped it up in their handkerchief, or a bit of paper. I’ve read about that in a book,’ said Daisy. ‘Then they tipped it into Mr Curtis’s cup when no one was looking.’
I pu
t my hand in my pocket and pulled out the paper I had found on the dining-room table the night before.
‘A bit of paper like this?’ I asked. ‘I found it in the dining room last night, but I didn’t think . . . I forgot, with all the excitement about the cup.’
‘Hazel!’ Daisy gasped. ‘You clever thing! A clue, a real clue!’
All four of us bent over it. It really was half a page from a book, the words close-printed. There was a little smear of pale powder on one edge – and when I saw that, I knew that there could be no doubt. This was what the murderer had used to keep the poison in. We read the text:
struck again,
And growing still in stature the grim shape
Towered up between me and the stars, and still,
For so it seemed, with purpose of its own
And measured motion like a living thing,
Strode after me. With trembling
‘Ugh, rubbishy poetry,’ said Daisy. ‘I don’t blame the murderer for tearing it up. But this is still very good! We must be on the lookout for the book this came from. It’s an important step forward with the investigation. All right, let’s continue with our suspects. Who else is there?’
‘Lord Hastings,’ I said, because someone had to. ‘He knew about . . . your mother and Mr Curtis. He might have wanted to take revenge. After all, we saw him get cross at Mr Curtis yesterday morning.’
‘We saw him tell Mr Curtis to leave!’ said Daisy. ‘And he knew that Mr Curtis was going to the station yesterday. Why would he kill him after that?’
‘But, Daisy,’ I said. ‘He did shout at him. We all heard.’
‘Yes, yes, I do admit that we can’t rule him out,’ she said sharply. ‘He was at the tea table at the right time, and he did have a reason to hate Mr Curtis. All right, put him down for the moment.
‘Oh, and I know!’ she added, dropping Lord Hastings out of the discussion as if he was a hot coal in her hand. ‘What about Bertie? We must add him to the list – it’ll make him fearfully cross. He does get so angry sometimes, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was secretly a homicidal maniac. Can’t you imagine him bumping off Mr Curtis?’
‘Do you really believe that?’ asked Beanie.
‘Of course I don’t,’ said Daisy. ‘He’s my brother. But we’re adding everyone to the list, aren’t we? We might as well suspect them all, while we’re at it. So Daddy, Bertie . . . Who else? Oh yes, Stephen.’
‘What motive does he have?’ I could feel my cheeks going pink. ‘He doesn’t know Mr Curtis, does he, and he can’t be angry about Lady Hastings.’
‘Ooh-ooh,’ said Kitty. ‘Hazel’s fond of Stephen!’
Daisy looked at me, and my face heated up even more. I couldn’t help it.
‘Bertie’s told me a bit about Stephen’s past,’ she said. ‘His father’s dead, and his mother’s terribly poor. What if he killed Mr Curtis to steal the watch and sell it?’
‘How tragic!’ said Kitty gleefully.
‘Poor Stephen!’ said Beanie.
‘I’d say the money angle’s not a bad one. Write it down, Hazel.’
I did – and then I said, ‘One person left. What about Lady Hastings?’
It was quite cruel of me, I know, but after what Daisy had just said, I wanted to jab at her.
‘But I thought you said that she liked Mr Curtis?’ Beanie asked shyly. ‘Why would she kill someone she liked?’
‘But we – I – saw her arguing with Mr Curtis yesterday afternoon,’ I said, reluctant to tell Daisy what I’d seen, but knowing that I had no choice now. ‘He wanted her to run away with him, and bring her jewels and a painting, and she wouldn’t, and Mr Curtis was angry. He said he was going to tell Lord Hastings – what if she killed him to stop him doing that?’
Daisy frowned. ‘You ought to have told me at once!’ she said. ‘That’s important information! But all the same, Mummy isn’t really clever enough to plan something like dropping poison in a cup – I’m sure that if she tried, someone would notice immediately. However, what you saw means that we can’t rule her out yet. She can go down on the list for the moment.’
* * *
SUSPECT LIST
Miss Alston. MOTIVE: Unknown. But we suspect that she has some sort of secret history which Mr Curtis knew about. OPPORTUNITY: Was at the tea table at the crucial time. Could have stolen the poison from the hall. NOTES: Was seen being threatened by Mr Curtis outside the maze by Daisy Wells and Hazel Wong. Who is she really, and what is she doing here? We must investigate.
Aunt Saskia. MOTIVE: Wanted Mr Curtis’s watch. OPPORTUNITY: Was at the tea table at the crucial time. Could have stolen the poison from the hall. NOTES: Has been behaving suspiciously. Does not want the police to get involved – although this could be because of other misdemeanours in her past. Search her room for the watch?
Uncle Felix. MOTIVE: Rage at Mr Curtis over Lady Hastings. He was heard in the maze threatening Mr Curtis by Daisy Wells and Hazel Wong. OPPORTUNITY: Was at the tea table at the crucial time. Could have stolen the poison from the hall. NOTES: We know he has lied about Mr Curtis’s cause of death. Why?
Lord Hastings. MOTIVE: Jealousy. OPPORTUNITY: Was at the tea table at the crucial time. Could have stolen the poison from the hall. NOTES: Seen shouting at Mr Curtis on Saturday morning and telling him to leave Fallingford.
Bertie Wells. MOTIVE: Rage at Mr Curtis over Lady Hastings. OPPORTUNITY: Was at the tea table at the crucial time. Could have stolen the poison from the hall.
Stephen Bampton. MOTIVE: He is not well off. Could he have stolen Mr Curtis’s watch to sell it? OPPORTUNITY: Was at the tea table at the crucial time. Could have stolen the poison from the hall.
Lady Hastings. MOTIVE: Mr Curtis threatened her. She might have killed him to stop him carrying out his threat. OPPORTUNITY: Was at the tea table at the crucial time. Could have stolen the poison from the hall.
* * *
‘All right,’ said Daisy, ‘I think that wraps up the meeting.’
‘So what are we going to do now?’ Beanie asked.
‘Gather evidence, of course. We need to investigate each of our suspects. For example, we must see if we can uncover something about Miss Alston’s past. Can we discover her letter of reference? She must have one. We could look in her room – perhaps she keeps her papers there. Then there’s the piece of paper Hazel found. Which book did it come from? And we ought to conduct interviews with Chapman, Mrs Doherty and Hetty. We know they didn’t do it, but servants’ evidence is usually the most crucial. As detectives, we’d be fools to leave them out. With any luck we’ll be able to wrap up the case before the police arrive.’
I felt the same old detective excitement rising up in me. Daisy was getting to me, turning real things into puzzles to be solved – but then I wondered whether it wasn’t better to think of Mr Curtis as a puzzle than as a real person who had been murdered. When I thought about that I felt full-up with awfulness, not excited at all.
‘Where do we start?’ asked Kitty. Detective fever seemed to have infected her too – her eyes were shining as she shook her hair back from her forehead.
‘Miss Alston’s bedroom,’ said Daisy, ‘since she’s downstairs with the other grown-ups. At the moment she seems the most likely culprit, but we need to learn more about her. We can look for her papers, and the teacup and watch into the bargain.’
10
We crept out onto the landing. It was empty. My heart was beating fast – I couldn’t quite believe that we were about to break into Miss Alston’s little box room. What if she came up and found us?
The door was shut. Daisy went tiptoeing up to it, twisted the handle and carefully pushed it open.
It felt most dreadfully wrong. Miss Alston was such a secretive person – we really knew nothing about her at all. I had never even seen inside her bedroom, and nor had any of the others. I imagined her doorway as an invisible line that, if crossed, would burn you up into a crisp or freeze you to death.
‘Oh no!’ whispered
Beanie as Daisy poked a careful shoe-tip through the doorway, then craned her neck round, and I could tell that she felt as uncomfortable as I did.
‘What, Beanie?’ said Daisy, without turning her head.
‘I don’t think this is legal!’ whispered Beanie nervously.
‘Of course it’s not legal, Beanie. But we’re detecting, so that makes things all right.’
‘I don’t want to go in!’ Beanie’s face crumpled.
‘All right, then, stay out here! No one’s making you. You can be our lookout. If Miss Alston comes up the stairs, whistle, or squeak, or something. Hazel, Kitty, are you coming?’
With Beanie trembling on the landing, we had to. Shooting nervous glances at each other, Kitty and I crept forward, and over the dividing line into Miss Alston’s bedroom. I did not burn up – although I did feel a rush of shame that made me tingle with heat all the way to the tips of my fingers.
Inside, everything was neatly ordered – drawers shut, bed made with military precision, and a gleaming row of schoolbooks laid out in alphabetical order. It was so neat that I was terrified all over again. What if we left signs of our presence? If she was not the murderer, she would be furious. And if she was . . . I shivered.
But Daisy seemed to have no concerns at all.
‘Oh do come along,’ she hissed at us, tugging a drawer of Miss Alston’s bureau open. ‘We’ll never solve the mystery if you’re wet about it. Hmph – only combies.’
‘Daisy!’ I cried, half shocked at what she was doing and half shocked at the sight of Miss Alston’s white combinations.
‘Come on, hurry up about it,’ said Daisy. ‘We must search! Papers, watch, cup – remember? Quickly!’
But although Daisy raked through the contents of the bureau, sending dull brown skirts and jumpers spinning into the air like birds bursting out of the undergrowth on an English walk, her search yielded no results.