Page 5 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“I came from the woods,” I said. “I didn’t see or hear anyone running away. The only people I saw the entire time was Mr. Shepherd and another man, arguing.”
The men peppered me with questions all at once.
I answered them one at a time. “I didn’t see his face so I can’t give a description of his appearance. All I can tell you is that he wore a gray cap.” I’d never again disparage a witness for giving a poor account of what they’d seen. It was more difficult to recall details than I had realized.
“Must be a poacher,” Lord Kershaw declared. “Shepherd had run-ins with them from time to time.”
“Don’t poachers usually operate at night?”
Uncle Ronald cleared his throat. “Cleopatra, perhaps you should check on your aunt. You know how delicate her nerves are.”
I turned my attention to the house, but didn’t leave the scene. I might not recall many details prior to the shooting, but I could take in as much as possible now. Given the position of the body—feet pointed toward the house—it was most likely the shot had been fired from there. Unless Mr. Shepherd had spun around after being hit and before falling to the ground, in which case the shot could have come from any direction.
Floyd approached, along with the other two gentlemen guests, plus Lady Kershaw and Mrs. Browning. The men mentioned hearing a gunshot and were full of questions. Uncle Ronald took it upon himself to intercept them before they got too close, but they all spotted the body despite his efforts. His tone was calm, but it didn’t reassure Lady Kershaw and Mrs. Browning. They brushed past him.
Lady Kershaw gasped. “Is that…?”
Mrs. Browning pressed her fingers to her lips. After a moment, she walked away, back toward the house. Her husband’s narrowed gaze tracked her.
“Is the local sergeant a good man?” Uncle Ronald asked.
Lord Kershaw circled an arm around his wife’s waist and angled himself so that he blocked her view of the body. “Er, uh, yes, good enough.” He directed the butler to send for the police.
I followed Mrs. Browning. Behind me, I heard Uncle Ronald sending the others on their way, too.
Floyd suddenly appeared at my side. “Don’t, Cleo.”
“Don’t what?”
“I know that look. You’re determined to find out who fired the fatal shot.”
“I’m a detective, Floyd. It would be unprofessional to do nothing.”
“There’s no point. You heard them asking about the local plod. He’s a good man, so Kershaw says. That’s code for he’ll do what he’s told. Kershaw won’t want a fuss made. He’ll want this swept under the carpet as quickly and quietly as possible, and that means no one will be arrested. No doubt he’ll convince everyone that it was simply a terrible accident.”
“This isn’t the Middle Ages. He can’t dictate a police investigation.”
Floyd snorted. “I didn’t peg you as the naïve sort, Cousin.”
I stopped and rounded on him. “Where wereyouwhen the shot was fired?”
“Excuse me?”
I arched my brows, waiting.
“Don’t be petty, Cleo. Why would I shoot the gamekeeper? Anyway, I was playing tennis.” He indicated his sporting outfit of white pin-striped knickerbockers buttoned below the knees with high socks and a boater. He’d dispensed with the jacket, but his waistcoat matched the knickerbockers.
“Who was with you?” I asked.
“I’m not telling you that, because you’re not investigating.”
The others joined us, so I didn’t have the opportunity to press him. The two gentlemen also wore sporting clothes, as did Flossy, Lady Kershaw and Janet Browning. Mrs. Browning and Aunt Lilian wore elegant daytime outfits, suitable for taking tea, but not for playing tennis. I’d question Flossy later about the other players, if Floyd remained obstinate. Hopefully I could eliminate them all as suspects if they were with her on the tennis court when the incident occurred. There were more staff than guests and family, however. If any of them had access to a gun, the list of suspects would be long.
Speaking of access to guns, my first task would be to check the armory.
Inside the house, we were met by Lady Elizabeth, cautiously making her way down the staircase. “Why all the commotion?”
Janet assisted her great-aunt down the final step. “It’s the gamekeeper. He was shot.”
