Page 11 of Marriage and Murder
“I see,” Stokes said. “And what, exactly, did the two witnesses see?”
Mallard paused, then slowly supplied, “They saw his lordship walking down the path from the cottage’s door and out of the gate.”
Stokes considered his notes, then said, “So if I understand your argument correctly, you’re saying that his lordship rode to the cottage, tied his horse to the hedge by the gate, and went inside, and at or about three-thirty-three, he strangled Viola Huntingdon. Then he waited inside the cottage for an hour before walking out to his horse, which had remained in the lane throughout, mounting up, and riding home.” Stokes caught Mallard’s gaze. “Is that an accurate summation of your case?”
When Mallard pressed his lips tightly together and didn’t immediately respond, Stokes leaned back and said, “Quite aside from the issue of the horse in the lane virtually announcing his lordship’s presence for all to see, why do you think he waited an hour beside a dead body? I have to say that’s rather unusual behavior for a murderer.”
“Ah, but”—eagerly, Mallard leapt for the straw Stokes had waved—“that was because he was searching the house. Turned the place over thoroughly, he did.”
“What was he searching for?” Penelope asked.
Barnaby had wondered for how much longer she would remain silent. For his part, he was content to allow Stokes to deal with the delicate task of opening Mallard’s eyes to the flaws in the case against Henry without antagonizing the man. While investigating in his territory, they would need Mallard’s assistance, not his enmity.
“Jewelry,” Mallard replied with considerable relish. “The victim’s sister, Miss Madeline Huntingdon, says that the victim’s favorite pieces—a necklace and matching bracelet, both set with aquamarines—are missing. The housekeeper confirmed that the victim valued both highly.”
“I see,” Stokes said. “And how do the necklace and bracelet connect with his lordship?”
Mallard blinked.
Stokes glanced at Penelope. “You’re our expert in jewelry. Aquamarines. They’re not especially valuable, are they?”
“Not really,” Penelope said. “They go in and out of fashion somewhat, as all semiprecious stones do. Very large, perfect, high-quality aquamarines will be worth something, but at present, they would rank less highly than, say, garnets, and all such stones will never approach the value of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.”
Stokes returned his gaze to Mallard. “It’s difficult to see what Lord Glossup would want with what to him would be little more than baubles, yet you’re suggesting his lordship killed Miss Huntingdon for the jewelry.”
Put on the spot and faintly irritated and frustrated with it, Mallard returned, “Well, regardless, he must have taken them. Who else could have?”
The murderer, perhaps?Barnaby exchanged a look with Penelope and knew exactly what she was thinking as, figuratively, they bit their tongues.
Returning his gaze to Stokes, Barnaby felt his friend was demonstrating extraordinary patience.
“Perhaps,” Stokes said, “if we return to the argument earlier in the day between his lordship and the victim, we might find some clue. Have the witnesses given you any idea what the argument was about?”
Somewhat reluctantly, Mallard described the altercation more or less exactly as Henry had. “Miss Huntingdon took strong exception to the actions of his lordship’s hound. She was, by all accounts, very proud of her hedge.”
“Was any mention made of the jewelry?” Stokes asked.
Mallard faintly frowned. “No.”
Stokes raised his brows. “No mention of the jewelry at all?”
Starting to look decidedly uncertain, Mallard shook his head.
Stokes glanced at his notebook, then looked at Mallard. “You mentioned a threat made during this exchange. What was the nature of the threat his lordship made in relation to the victim?”
Mallard visibly perked up. “His lordship was heard by our two witnesses to declare that if she—the victim, Miss Huntingdon—pointed a gun at one of his animals, he’d make sure she never did so again.”
His expression unreadable, Stokes studied Mallard as if waiting for more, then when nothing more was forthcoming, sighed and asked, “Was anything said about killing her?”
“Well, no,” Mallard conceded. “Not in so many words, but what else could he have meant?”
Stokes regarded Mallard steadily. “Lord Glossup is the local magistrate and has been for many years. Did it not occur to you that he might well have meant to use the law to remove Miss Huntingdon’s gun from her, something he could easily have done?”
Mallard’s expression stated that, until that moment, the answer had been no. But from the frown forming in his eyes, he was finally starting to set aside his preconceived notions and think about the facts and evidence.
“At present, Mallard,” Stokes went on, “you allege that Lord Glossup had an argument with the victim over a dog’s behavior and was subsequently seen riding off, but that later, unseen by anyone, he returned to the cottage, left his horse tied up in thelane, and strangled the victim, ransacked her cottage, and stole a bracelet and necklace that were set with aquamarines, and for some reason, attaining the jewelry was his true if entirely unexplained motive.”
Mallard grimaced, and his frown deepened.
