Page 70 of Marriage and Murder
To their right, the rear garden of Lavender Cottage spread out, mostly laid to kitchen garden beds as well.
“Hello.” Looking ahead, Stokes paused, then walked on. “What’s this?”
They were roughly midway down the kitchen gardens, and the feature Stokes had spotted was a crumbling stile built against the wall.
They halted before it, and Barnaby pointed to a bare patch of ground in front of the stile. The earth held the clear imprint of a shoe. “That’s not a man’s boot.”
Stokes crouched and examined the shape outlined in the softer ground, then he rose and nodded. “No, it’s not. And it’s coming from the Penroses’.” He looked over the wall to where, some way away, the rear of Penrose Cottage could be seen. “Someone recently came over this stile, heading for Lavender Cottage.”
Barnaby crouched and examined the lightly grassed areas around the base of the stile, then pointed. “And here’s where she went back.” He rose and looked around.
“Well,” Stokes said, “we now know how she went back and forth between the cottages in a very short space of time.”
“And,” Barnaby said, waving to the bushes around the immediate area, “without being seen. Other than from the rear of Penrose Cottage, no one”—he swung around, searching—“in the lane, in the orchard, or anywhere else, for that matter, can see this spot. Bushes or trees cut off the sight lines in virtually every direction.”
Stokes looked, too, then nodded. “That means there’ll be no witnesses, but it’s something we needed to know.”
After a last look at the stile, they continued on and, eventually, came upon Jim Swinson and Arthur Penrose refitting stones into a crumbled section of the wall and mortaring them into place.
Both men were happy to pause and give their attention to Stokes and Barnaby.
After exchanging greetings, Stokes said, “We were wondering, Mr. Swinson, when you saw Miss Huntingdon on the morning she was killed, when she berated Lord Glossup over his dog’s behavior, whether you noticed if she had anything in her hand.”
Jim Swinson frowned slightly, clearly thinking back to the moment. Slowly, he nodded. “She was carrying some sort of paper—like a folded packet of some sort. I thought maybe she’d shake it at his lordship, but she didn’t.”
“Did you see what she did with the paper after his lordship rode off?” Barnaby asked.
Jim instantly replied, “Aye. She glared after his lordship, clutching the paper tight, then she put it—shoved it, more like—into her bag, that tapestry one she always carried when she was out and about.”
Barnaby exchanged a glance with Stokes. Now they knew why the killer had upended Viola’s bag.
Stokes looked at Jim. “As I recall, Mrs. Penrose was standing beside you at the time. Do you think she would remember that paper, too?”
Jim shrugged. “Don’t see why not. She was standing right there, and there’s nothing wrong with Mrs. P’s eyes.”
Stokes inclined his head. “Thank you. That’s really all we needed to know.”
With Madeline beside her, Penelope knocked on the door of Wisteria Cottage. “Although,” she murmured to Madeline, “there’s not a shred of wisteria about.”
Madeline glanced around. “Perhaps they’ve cut it down for the winter.”
“I don’t think you cut wisteria down to the ground,” Penelope replied.
They heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the door, and Penelope summoned a smile as Gladys Hooper opened it. “Good morning, Mrs. Hooper. I’m Mrs. Adair,and I believe you’re acquainted with Miss Huntingdon. We’re assisting the police with their investigations, and we were wondering if we might have a word.”
Madeline put in, “We’ve just come from chatting with Iris. We’re trying to determine my sister’s movements in the hours before she was killed, and Iris suggested that you’d seen where Viola went after she left the church.”
Penelope added, “Viola told Mrs. Foswell that she had an errand to run before returning to the cottage. We wondered if you knew where Viola went after she passed out of Iris’s sight and walked on along Green Lane.”
Gladys’s eyes had rounded, and she beamed. “Oh yes, I did see her, and I saw what happened next.” She waved Penelope and Madeline inside. “Come in and sit down, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Barely able to contain her impatience, Penelope allowed Gladys to usher her and Madeline into a small, untidy parlor.
“Please excuse the mess.” Gladys hurried around, picking up scarves and caps. “Boys, you know. Well, males in general. It’s a never-ending chore.”
Once Gladys had the place reasonably cleared, she installed Penelope in what was clearly the best armchair and waved Madeline to the other armchair, while she perched on a straight-backed chair and looked at them expectantly.
Penelope inwardly sighed. Apparently, Gladys was one of those who preferred to be led. “We already know,” Penelope began, “that Iris saw Viola pause at the junction and take a folded paper from her bag. According to Iris, Viola then marched determinedly on along Green Lane.”
