Chapter Nine
"More tea, Betty?" Violet held the Spode teapot over Betty Bootle's cup.
"Just half a cup," said Betty. Violet poured.
"Apparently that man was called Mark Slofield," said Violet.
"Really, dear?" Betty poured in the milk. "Best put it out of your mind, Vi."
Violet laughed a nervous laugh. The strains of Abide with me wafted into the sitting-room of the Old Hall through the open French doors. "Dickie will be back from evensong soon," she said.
"Henry is so pleased," said Betty, taking a sip of tea, "that Dickie goes every Sunday."
"As you know, it's not my scene," said Violet. "I don't find the church – spiritual enough."
"Yes, dear."
Violet laughed again. "Do you remember all those years ago when we dug up half the floorboards in the morning room? I was sure there was a spirit there."
"Yes, dear. I remember."
Violet gently stroked the cat that lay purring in her lap. "Dickie was furious when he got home from the office. We did make rather a mess. Wishbone knows all about it, don't you, Wishbone?"
"That cat is a godsend," said Betty.
"Wishbone knows who killed that man and how he got there." The church clock struck five o'clock. "How about a slice of lemon sponge, Betty? Mrs Beecham baked it this morning."
"Well – half a slice, then," Betty said. Violet took the cake knife and cut her old friend a modest slice.
There was a clattering noise as Fleur came down the stairs, holding a little rag doll in her hands. "Mummy," she said, "say 'hello' to Willy." Willy was a boy with long black hair wearing blue shorts.
Violet's countenance suddenly changed. "Where did you find that thing, Fleur?" she asked.
"In the toy cupboard. You gave it to me when I was six." Fleur sat Willy down on the sofa beside her mother, who picked up the cake knife and forcefully stabbed the little rag doll several times.
"Take that," she shouted, "Willy!"
Fleur burst into tears and ran outside. Betty Bootle looked shocked. "Violet, dear – "
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Violet, dropping the knife and breathing heavily. "I don't know what came over me."
"It's been a stressful weekend," said Betty, getting up. "Why don't you go and lie down, Vi?"
"Yes," said Violet, who was helped to her feet by Miss Bootle. "I – I think I feel a migraine coming on."
Betty had got her hostess halfway up the stairs when there was a shrill, piercing scream from outside. "Mummy, Mummy!" screamed Fleur, racing back towards the sitting-room. "There's another man in the pond!"
. . .
. . .
. . .
"Same as before, Tom," said the white-clad Dr Bullard, bending over the body that had been laid out on a white sheet beside the pond. "A single blow to the back of the head with a heavy blunt instrument. See the outline? Perfectly circular," and he demonstrated the indentation in his skull. "Again, no identification on him."
"But I recognize him," said Barnaby. "It's Duncan Slofield. Time of death, George?"
"This one's easier," said Bullard. "He's still warm. He died not more than two hours ago."
"So not before four o'clock?" asked Ben Jones, who had been called back to Midsomer Mallow almost as soon as he got home and put his feet up.
"And not after five o'clock. Most likely between four fifteen and four forty-five."
"Who's in the house?" asked Barnaby.
"The girl who found him, Lady Braithwaite and Sir Richard," said Jones. "And a Miss Bootle."
"Ah, Miss Bootle," said Tom.
But only Sir Richard Braithwaite presented himself when Ben and Tom walked into the sitting-room. "Another mystery man, is it, Inspector?" he asked, reclining in his favourite armchair with a glass of gin and tonic.
"On the contrary," said Barnaby. "Does the name of Slofield mean anything to you, sir?"
Dickie thought for a moment. "Can't say that it does," he said.
"Yet two men of that name, father and son, have been found dead in your pond."
"Really?" said Dickie. "How most extraordinary!"
"What about your ladies?" asked Jones.
"I'm afraid you can't see the ladies," said Dickie, rising from his armchair. "They've gone upstairs."
"What, all of them?" asked Barnaby.
"Fleur found the body. She's a young girl and naturally she's very upset. And my wife is being comforted by Betty Bootle."
"But your wife and Miss Bootle were here when the body was found, Sir Richard?"
"That's right. I got in from evensong at about ten past five."
"I take it you were seen at evensong, sir," said Jones.
"Of course I was. Ask Henry, the padre."
"Which started when, sir?"
"Four o'clock. It's called evensong but people do things early in these parts."
"Why, exactly," asked Barnaby, "can I not talk to your wife?"
"She's had an attack of migraine. And Betty is looking after her. A tower of strength, that woman. Violet's been sedated, you see." Dickie approached Tom and said confidentially, "She'll be alright in the morning. But just go easy on her, Inspector. She's a bit on edge, if you know what I mean."
Barnaby and Jones looked at each other.
"Are you sure that your daughter, Trixie, is not also upstairs?" asked Jones.
"Trixie?" Dickie looked perplexed. "Certainly not! If you want to know about Trixie you'd better ask Ellie. Ellie is the only one she'll speak to, and that's not often. I take it you've got her address?"
Tom and Ben had Ellie's address.
