Page 17 of Marriage and Murder
Price put in, “Miss Viola gave Mrs. Gilroy the letter to post when she left here at noon, it being her half day off. Mrs. G was surprised there was another letter so soon, and she says that Miss Viola was bothered about something and muttering to herself, which is not something she normally did.”
“That’s true,” Madeline remarked.
Stokes had swiftly copied the letter and now handed it back to Madeline. “Purely for the record, Miss Huntingdon, and for completeness’s sake, is there anyone in London who can vouch for you being there on Thursday afternoon?”
Madeline all but glared, but refolding the letter, said, “My live-in maid, of course, and I met with my lodgers on Thursday in the late afternoon. They’d invited me to tea and wanted to hear my opinion on the barrow mound recently found on Salisbury Plain.”
Stokes’s lips twitched as he jotted down the information. “Thank you.” Then he looked up and asked, “Do you knowof any local men with whom your sister recently had any disagreement?”
“Other than Lord Glossup and his dog, Viola has a long-running dispute with her neighbors, the Penroses. Over the past few years, Viola maintained that the Penrose orchard encroaches on Lavender Cottage land. Consequently, she felt justified in taking many of the apples from the offending trees. In turn, the Penroses accused her of stealing their apples. And so it went.” Madeline shrugged. “I don’t know the rights and wrongs of it, so I tried not to get involved. Other than that…” She paused, then rather reluctantly said, “Jim Swinson—he’s the Penroses’ man-of-all-work, but in his time off, he was Viola’s gardener. He worked for her twice a week, I believe, but they didn’t really get on. Not that I ever heard of any outright argument or any other reason for it, but there was always an undercurrent of irritation between them, and that went both ways.”
Barnaby noticed that Constable Price had been nodding in confirmation of much of what Madeline said. “Anyone else?” Barnaby asked.
Madeline sighed. “I hesitate to mention it, but Viola made…well, not quite accusations, more like hurtful observations about Mrs. Gilroy’s son, Billy. I could never fathom why Viola had taken so definitely against the lad, but I think that part of it was that Mrs. Gilroy is such a hard worker, and Billy certainly appears to be a layabout, scrounging off his mother rather than doing anything to help her. And again, the animosity between Viola and Billy was mutual, I would say, but on his part, it might simply have been a reaction to her nagging. I’ve heard Billy mouth off to Viola when he didn’t know I was there to hear, and in turn, she would get on her high horse and lecture him about being such a drain on his poor mother’s purse and so on.” Madeline paused, then added, “Viola could be quite pointedand hurtful at times, and although I don’t think she was actually malicious or intentionally vindictive, others could easily have taken her comments that way.”
Barnaby noted that Constable Price was, in general, still nodding along to the bulk of Madeline’s revelations.
“What about local friends?” Penelope asked. “You mentioned Mrs. Foswell, the minister’s wife.”
“Yes. Mrs. Foswell and Viola felt and thought along similar lines about many village matters, although I would say that Mrs. Foswell was generally more charitable. She tended to rein in Viola somewhat. Tact was never Viola’s strong suit. I know Viola was on nodding terms with Iris Perkins and Gladys Hooper, but I’m unsure how deep in each other’s confidences they were. But Viola and Mrs. Foswell were close, so if anyone can tell you more about recent village happenings in my sister’s life, it will be Cynthia Foswell.”
Penelope nodded determinedly. “We’ll definitely be interviewing Mrs. Foswell.”
Stokes tapped his pencil on the open page of his notebook, then looked at Madeline. “That brings us to the matter of finances and the possibility that your sister’s wealth was a motive in her death.”
Madeline colored faintly but returned Stokes’s gaze levelly. “As I’m Viola’s only kin, then I assume her portion—what’s left of it—will come to me.” She glanced around. “Along with this cottage and the attached land, which isn’t all that extensive. I’m certain that she made no further will and that inheritance will be governed by our father’s will. However, I can assure you that I have no need of Viola’s money. I have my own funds and am hardly destitute.”
“Well,” Penelope prosaically pointed out, “if you own a house in Bedford Place, that’s obviously the case.”
Madeline’s expression as she nodded suggested she was pleased to have that clearly stated.
Stokes caught Madeline’s gaze. “Just so you are aware, we may need to confirm that with people in London. Purely by way of dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s.”
Madeline’s lips primmed, then she curtly said, “Check all you wish. You’ll find all I’ve said borne out. My man-of-business in London is Mr. Thomas Glendower, and I’m sure he’ll vouch for my financial standing.”
Penelope grinned, and Barnaby smiled. Even Stokes looked faintly amused.
Seeing their reaction, Madeline looked at them, openly puzzled.
Penelope explained, “We’re good friends with Thomas, and if you’re one of his clients, then I believe we can take your financial standing as read.”
Stokes also nodded. “I, too, am acquainted with Glendower, so yes, I accept that you being his client is sufficient testimony to you not coveting your sister’s portion.”
“Frankly,” Penelope said, “you being a client of Thomas’s only makes me more curious…” She broke off when Stokes shot a baleful glance her way, then grinned and concluded, “But perhaps that’s a discussion for another day.”
“Indeed.” Stokes shut his notebook and half bowed over the table to Madeline. “Thank you for your help, Miss Huntingdon. If you don’t mind, we would like to take a look at the parlor and the other rooms that were searched, and once we have, I can release them to you to tidy and clean as you wish.”
“Thank you, Inspector.” Madeline inclined her head. “That would be much appreciated.”
Barnaby pushed away from the table, stood, and drew out Penelope’s chair.
“Constable Price,” Stokes said, making the young constable snap to attention. “If you would show us around?”
“Yes, of course, sir!” With an apologetic look at Madeline, Price moved to the closed door. “The parlor’s through here.”
Barnaby, Penelope, and Stokes followed Price into the room. The curtains had been left open, as they would have been on the Thursday afternoon, and there was more than enough light streaming inside for them to appreciate the salient points.
Price outlined where the body had been found, on the rug about a yard before the hearth on the side closer to the window. A low table had clearly been nudged farther away from the fireplace, leaving the rug beneath it slightly rucked.
