Page 62 of Marriage and Murder
Carter beamed. “My pleasure, Inspector.” He nodded all around. “I’ll leave you now—I have another body to see to.”
The others added their thanks, and with a bounce in his step, Carter headed back up the stairs.
Stokes resumed his jotting, but they’d barely caught their breath when the police station’s main doors burst open, and Madeline and Henry came rushing in, bringing a small, dapperly dressed gentleman with them.
The man was of portly build and garbed in a dark conservative suit paired with a tapestry waistcoat in muted hues. He had curly graying hair peeking out from beneath the brim of a pale-gray hat, wore highly polished boots, and carried a silver-headed cane. His mien seemed serious if a trifle flustered by the rush, but his most outstanding feature was a pair of mobile bushy eyebrows that danced above a pair of shrewd blue-gray eyes.
As they pulled up before the others, Madeline, Henry, and the gentleman were all out of breath, and the three sported similar expressions of shock and earnestness.
“Thank God,” Henry announced, “that you haven’t started with Pincer yet.” He indicated the gentleman. “This isMr. Farnham, the Huntingdon family solicitor, and he has information you need to hear.”
Madeline stepped in to perform the introductions, confirming Farnham’s standing and making him known to Stokes, who introduced Penelope and Barnaby. Plainly curious, Farnham shook their hands. Unsurprisingly, he was already acquainted with Mallard and exchanged a reserved nod with the policeman.
Then Farnham looked around the open foyer. “Now, I do have matters of note to convey to you…”
Mallard took the hint. “Perhaps your revelations might be better made in the interview room.”
Farnham nodded. “My thoughts exactly, Mallard. Thank you.”
After speaking to the constable behind the desk, Mallard led the group to the interview room off the corridor beyond.
As with alacrity they moved to claim chairs about the table, Penelope saw her own burning curiosity reflected in the faces of Barnaby, Stokes, and Mallard.
Henry looked concerned and very serious as he held Madeline’s chair for her, then he sat beside her, with Farnham taking the chair on Madeline’s other side.
Everyone settled and fixed eager gazes on the dapper solicitor.
Having set his hat on the table, Farnham cast a swift, shrewd look around those gathered and, without waiting for further invitation, commenced, “First, let me state that until half an hour ago, when Miss Madeline Huntingdon informed me of her sister’s murder, I was not aware that Miss Viola Huntingdon had passed, much less that she’d been killed. You may be sure that if I had known, I would have come forward earlier. However, as we are here now, let me give you what information I possess regarding Viola’s recent interactions with me and my office. She—Viola—came to see me several months ago and instructed me to look into the specifics of the boundary between Lavender Cottage and the neighboring property owned by a Mr. Arthur Penrose.”
Penelope stiffened and exchanged a fleeting, wondering glance with Barnaby before returning her attention to Farnham.
“My clerk,” Farnham went on, “is a very thorough man, and he pulled out every map and sale notice concerning both properties. We worked our way through the lot and came to the conclusion that Viola was correct in her assertion that at some point in the past, the boundary had been illegally shifted, removing a considerable slice of land from the Lavender Cottage plot and claiming it for Penrose Cottage.”
Farnham leaned forward slightly to glance at Henry. “There is a question of long-established use of the land, but in terms of formal title to the acres in question, that indisputably lies with Lavender Cottage.”
Farnham sat back and resumed speaking to everyone. “I informed Miss Viola of that circumstance about three weeks ago, and she instructed me to commence legal proceedings to formally reclaim the land. To do that, I needed to draft several documents, and she made an appointment to return to my office and sign the papers on the afternoon of Wednesday last week. As I understand it, that was the day before she was murdered.”
Stokes looked up from his notes. “And she kept the appointment?”
“She did,” Farnham replied, “but for quite the first time in all the years I’ve known her, she was late.”
“How late?” Barnaby asked.
“About twenty minutes or so,” Farnham said. “It didn’t really matter, as I’d kept the hour free in case she wanted to talk further about the case. But when she came in, she was in quite a taking over a completely different matter.”
Barnaby bit his tongue and hoped no one else prompted the solicitor.
No one did, and Farnham obligingly continued, “It seemed she’d just learned that a gentleman she had thought herself on the verge of accepting a marriage proposal from was only interested in her wealth. An hour earlier, she’d apparently had Swithin—of Swithin’s Jewelers here in town, a sound man—tell her that the stones in her aquamarine bracelet, a keepsake of her mother’s given to her by her late father, were now fake, as were the stones in the matching necklace this man—Montgomery Pincer, who Viola referred to as Harold—had given her as a gift. Pincer had borrowed the bracelet to facilitate the making of the matching necklace, and at all other times, the bracelet had remained in Viola’s possession. The conclusion that Pincer was responsible for the substitution was inescapable. Naturally, Viola was devastated to learn of such a betrayal of her trust, but on leaving Swithin’s shop and starting up the street toward my chambers, she saw Pincer with another man in the market square. Although I don’t believe that, at that point, Viola was sure as to what she hoped to achieve, she followed the pair when they left the square. They went to a small park opposite St. Edmund’s, and she hid behind the trees and bushes near the bench on which they sat and eavesdropped on their conversation, only to discover that they were discussing her! That was when she heard from the despicable rogue’s own lips that he was only interested in her for her money. By the time the men left and she came on to my chambers, she was…well, not quite incandescent with fury but close to it.”
Farnham faintly winced at the memory. “She showed me the bracelet and the necklace and insisted that she wished Pincer to be taken up by the police”—Farnham tipped his head toward Mallard—“and charged with theft.” Farnham sighed. “My dutyalways lies with my client, so in all good conscience, I advised her against taking such a step.”
He glanced around the circle of faces. “I’d known Viola since she was a girl, and I knew she would hate—absolutely hate—having her naivety displayed for all the locals to see and wonder at and gossip over. I pointed that out, and as I expected, the prospect gave her pause. When she asked for my advice on how to deal with Pincer, I agreed that she should break off the connection immediately and, as she was so upset about the missing aquamarines, that she should suggest that if he gave her back the stones, in exchange, she would give him the necklace, that being the only physical evidence that would allow the theft to be traced to him. I stressed that she should not frame the offer as a threat but approach the matter as a negotiation. I strongly advised her not to threaten him outright, as he probably knew her well enough to know, as I did, that she would never pursue the matter publicly.”
Farnham sighed. “She’d calmed down by then but wasn’t yet certain as to what she would do about Pincer. She agreed to consider my arguments and said she would write to Madeline and seek her counsel as well. As I knew Madeline, I encouraged that. I did offer to keep the jewelry for her, on the grounds Pincer might be tempted to protect himself by stealing the pieces away, but she insisted she would keep the items safe.”
That’s why she hid the jewelry in the urn,Penelope thought.
“After that,” Farnham continued, “we moved on to the matter that had brought her to my chambers that day, namely, the documents regarding the boundary dispute.”
