The Killings at Kingfisher Hill Page 15

  There was a loud knock at the door. All three of us jumped in our seats. A guard who we had not previously met appeared in the room and said, ‘M. Hercule Poirot?’

  ‘Oui, it is I,’ said Poirot.

  ‘Could you follow me please, sir? We have received an urgent message for you.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It’s from the Home Office.’

  ‘The Home Office?’ Poirot rose to his feet. ‘Catchpool, please continue to find out from Miss Acton the precise order of events on the day of Frank Devonport’s death,’ he said as he followed the guard out of the room. ‘Who was where, and at what time, and for how long? I shall return!’

  I did not wish to present myself as someone blindly obedient of orders, having so recently heard Helen Acton denounce that quality, so as soon as she and I were alone I started with a different question: ‘Whose idea was it for you and Richard Devonport to become engaged?’

  She had the grace to look ashamed. ‘His. I told you, he proposed.’

  ‘When?

  ‘When it became known that I had given my love for him as my reason for killing Frank. Evidently word reached him, as it would, I suppose. He came to see me.’

  ‘Here?’

  She nodded. ‘We had the most peculiar exchange. I expected him to ask me if it was true, but he didn’t. He merely asked if the police were right in saying that I had said so. I told him they were. Then he proposed and I accepted. Do you want to know what I think?’

  I indicated that I did.

  ‘Richard knew perfectly well that my sudden love for him was nonsense, but he didn’t care. He leapt at the chance to have something that had belonged to Frank. I think he believed that, if only he had me, then he would not have entirely lost his beloved brother. Richard idolized Frank and believed him to be the golden one to whom all good things came. I’m well aware that I am not a great beauty, Inspector, if that’s what you’re thinking—’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘—but the very fact of my having been Frank’s fiancée will have given me a value in Richard’s eyes that bears no relation to any of my attributes. Once I had agreed to become engaged to him, he announced his determination to prove my innocence, which was the very last thing I wanted him to do.’

  ‘Did Richard give you a ring when the two of you got engaged?’ I asked her.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you had a ring from Frank?’

  ‘Yes. A ruby. I told them to give it to Richard for safekeeping. Obviously I can’t wear it in here.’

  ‘Are you aware that it is now being worn by Daisy Devonport instead of her own engagement ring—the one bought for her by Oliver Prowd?’

  Helen nodded. ‘I expect that seems strange to you. Daisy also worshipped Frank and no doubt wishes to feel as close to him as possible now that he’s gone. If by some chance my life is spared …’ She stopped and seemed to be considering something. Eventually she said, ‘No, I could not bear to live without Frank, and with the knowledge of what I did to him. Even if I could, I would let Daisy keep the ring. I do not deserve it.’

  ‘Oliver Prowd can’t be too happy about Daisy discarding the ring he gave her,’ I said.

  Helen gave a hollow laugh. ‘Oh, Daisy will have made it clear to Oliver that he has no choice in the matter and no right to complain. Frank used to say that Daisy could be a little tyrant. He said it affectionately, but having met her even only briefly, I can see that it’s quite true. She is terrified of her father, yet she has learned from him how to terrify others into submission. Some of the stories Frank told me …’ Helen shuddered. ‘And from the way Daisy spoke to me about Oliver on the day that Frank died, it was absolutely clear that he does what he’s told by her if he knows what’s good for him. That afternoon was a case in point! She was furious with him. He wasn’t there, at least not then, and she told me all about how she’d refused him entry to the house as a punishment for having crossed her.’

  ‘Is that one of the things that made your day at Little Key so unpleasant?’ I asked. Then I realized how crass I must have sounded and added quickly, ‘Before Frank died, I mean. Obviously that was the worst part of the day.’

  Helen Acton smiled. ‘Inspector, you say that as if his death was something tragic that happened to me rather than something for which I was to blame.’

  ‘Tell me about the unpleasant day, from the beginning,’ I said.

  ‘Everything was appalling from the moment Frank and I arrived at Kingfisher Hill. Far worse than I had foreseen. Lilian Devonport did not look at me, not once. She looked near me but never directly at me. No one else would have noticed, but she made sure her eyes never met mine from the second we got there until …’ She could not bring herself to utter the words. ‘Afterwards, she looked at me—screamed at me that I was a murderer, that they would hang me and she would dance on my grave. Those were the first words she spoke to me all day.’

  ‘What about Sidney Devonport?’

  ‘He stared at me all through the day with obvious disdain, as if trying to wish me out of his home by sheer force of will. It might have been partly my fault. I probably did not conceal my contempt for Frank’s parents as effectively as I had hoped to. I’m not very good at hiding my feelings.’

  ‘What about the others?’ I asked her. ‘Did they look at you and speak to you?’

  ‘The person who was kindest to me was Verna Laviolette. She made a particular effort to include me. And, yes, Richard and Daisy both spoke to me. But that was horrible too. Daisy spoke at me more than to me—she sat beside me for about thirty minutes and fired words into my face like bullets, ranting about Oliver and all the things he had done wrong. I felt as if I was some kind of inanimate object whose only function was to be pelleted with her list of resentments. Richard seemed torn between wanting to please his mother and follow her lead by ignoring me, and at the same time wanting to be polite and please Frank by making me welcome. Each time he plucked up the courage to say a civil word to me, he looked at Sidney or Lilian afterwards to see if a reprimand was on its way. And he didn’t dare speak to me too often.’

  ‘Verna Laviolette was particularly kind to you?’ My impression of the woman was that she was anything but kind.

  ‘Yes. Verna was on my side. She made that clear. It must have enraged Sidney and Lilian to have their friend behave in that way when they were going to such pains to remain hostile and aloof. Oh, Verna didn’t say anything explicitly but it was unmistakable and I appreciated it greatly. I have no idea what I did to make an ally of her—perhaps Sidney and Lilian’s rudeness was so staggeringly obvious that she felt sorry for me.’

  ‘How long had Daisy and Oliver been engaged?’ I asked, thinking it odd that Sidney Devonport had allowed his daughter to agree to marry the beneficiary of Frank’s theft of his money.

  ‘Not long,’ said Helen. ‘Seven weeks, if you want to be exact about it. Frank had told me about Oliver’s passion for Daisy. He had asked her to marry him twice before. She had said no. That was long before the theft. Then, on the day Frank died, very soon after I met her, Daisy told me the same story with great delight: Oliver had been sweet on her since forever, and she had always rebuffed him until, on the very same day that Sidney and Lilian wrote to Frank to propose a reconciliation, she sent a telegram to Oliver asking him to marry her. He accepted immediately, of course.’

  ‘What made her change her mind about him?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell you. I had only just met Daisy on that day and only knew her from Frank’s stories about her. I don’t believe they’re well suited to one another. Not at all.’ She smiled faintly. ‘Though nobody cares what a murderess thinks.’

  ‘I should like to hear your opinion,’ I told her.

  ‘Daisy is too strong a character and Oliver too weak. It’s a dangerous combination.’ Helen’s expression hardened. ‘Did you know that Oliver cut Frank off, too, after they plotted together to steal the money? Oh, he didn’t call it that, he didn’t say, “I hereby rid myself of you,” but that’s
what it amounted to. The two men did not set eyes on one another again until the day Frank died.’

  ‘But I was told that Oliver and Frank made investments and then founded schools together after they stole Sidney Devonport’s money,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, they were jointly involved in those ventures, but they were no longer friends,’ said Helen. ‘Everything was done via intermediaries. Oliver insisted. It was all his doing. When Frank was most in need of a loyal friend …’ She blinked away tears. ‘Oliver would not agree to meet Frank face to face or even speak to him. They went from being the closest of friends to being business partners at a distance. Frank was wounded to his core, but he would not condemn Oliver for his cowardice. “Not everyone has the courage to face their worst actions head-on, Helen,” he told me. “If Oliver needs to blame me and shun me in order to be at peace with himself, then that is what he must do and I wish him well.” Frank always found a way to take all the blame for himself and absolve others, and Oliver is the opposite sort of person. Quite the opposite!’

  I could not wait to share all this new information with Poirot. I still wondered why Daisy had been seized by a sudden desire to marry Oliver Prowd, having twice rejected him, and on the very same day that her parents had written to Frank to suggest a reconciliation.

  ‘What is on your mind?’ Helen asked me. I saw no reason not to tell her. She listened without comment, then she smiled.

  ‘Frank thought of the name Little Key,’ she said. ‘It’s a quote from Charles Dickens: “A very little key will open a very heavy door”.’

  ‘The house used to be called Kingfisher’s Rest, I believe.’

  ‘Yes. Frank thought that was dreadfully dull. He persuaded Sidney to change it when they bought the house from the Laviolettes.’

  ‘When was that?’ I asked. ‘How long before Frank died?’

  ‘A long time. Two years at least.’

  I cleared my throat and said, ‘Returning to the sixth of December, the day you killed Frank … did Daisy tell you why she was angry with Oliver Prowd?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She told me again and again, in as many different and colourful ways as she could think of. She and Richard and the Laviolettes had all spent the morning at another house on the Kingfisher Hill Estate while Oliver was attending to some business in London. Daisy had told him that when he returned to Kingfisher Hill he was to come to this other house and not go to Little Key as he normally would. He resented being made to wait in the home of a stranger for no good reason, and Daisy resented his resentment—all the more so because he was usually, to use her exact words, “as meek and obedient as a little lamb”. But he could not see why Frank’s return should mean that everyone else needed to be expelled from the house until further notice, and Daisy didn’t understand why her normally docile acolyte should pick this day of all days to cut up rough. Daisy objected most strongly to his rebellion—with the result that he ended up staying much longer at the other house, the stranger’s house, than anyone else. Daisy forbade him to come back to Little Key with her.’

  ‘But Oliver was in the house when you pushed Frank off the balcony,’ I said, remembering Marcus Capeling’s account of the tragic events: according to him, Oliver Prowd had been accosted by Helen in her determination to confess. He was the one to whom she had first admitted her guilt.

  ‘Yes, he was. He was kind to me, too, when I said that I had killed Frank—he was the one I told, you see, and he attended to me until the police arrived.’ A tear escaped from her left eye and rolled down her face. She wiped it away. ‘Everyone else was with Frank, but Oliver looked after me. He took me away from them all and sat with me, tried to calm me. He was kind.’ She nodded and appeared soothed by the memory.

  ‘But a moment ago you said that Daisy had forbidden him from returning to Little Key. Did she change her mind later and allow him to come back?’

  ‘Yes. Exactly that. Daisy is unpredictable,’ said Helen. ‘Frank told me that she has always had that sort of temperament. At a certain point in the afternoon she decided that she liked Oliver again, so he was permitted to return. Then she was angry with him all over again because he brought someone with him without permission. Frank had told me all about the strict Devonport family policy: no guests or callers, ever, unless they have been invited or approved by Sidney himself. This man had not.’

  ‘Who was he?’ I asked. Marcus Capeling had said nothing about an uninvited guest on the day of Frank Devonport’s death. By his account, the only people at Little Key on the sixth of December had been the Devonports, the Laviolettes and Winnie Lord.

  ‘A man of around his own age who lived in that other house—the one Oliver had come from.’

  ‘Kingfisher’s View?’

  ‘Yes. I think his name was Percy. Percy Semley, that was it. He was there when Frank died. Oliver came back to Little Key with Mr Semley in tow. Godfrey Laviolette was with them too—he had also stayed longer at the other house. The three of them were talking vigorously about fishing as they walked in. Frank and I could hear them from my room upstairs, where I had gone to pretend to sleep, to get away from Sidney’s cold glare. Frank had joined me there a little later—he came up to check that I was all right. Daisy would also have heard the men arrive. She was upstairs by then too and her room was next to mine. She was waiting for Oliver’s return and was all ready to forgive his earlier disobedience. She expected him to come back with only one intention: to kneel at her feet and beg forgiveness. Instead, he turned up in the middle of a jovial conversation about fishing with two other chaps, one of whom was not even an invited guest. She must have been furious.’

  ‘Poirot and I have been told nothing about the presence of this Mr Semley,’ I said.

  ‘He was not at Little Key for long. Wait …’ Helen frowned as she thought. Then her eyes widened. ‘I am not certain that the police would have known he was there at all. I did not tell them about him, and I can easily imagine that nobody else might have mentioned him either. Sidney bundled him out of the front door a few minutes after Frank died, while Lilian was screaming and wailing like a creature being torn apart. I don’t think … well, I should not say this because it might not be true, but I can well imagine that nobody at Little Key gave Mr Semley a single thought once he was no longer in front of them. It is hard to explain when you don’t know them and haven’t heard all the stories, but for all of the Devonports except Frank, it is very much as if no one else truly exists in the world apart from the Devonports. They treat everyone who isn’t family as an inconvenience or a useful prop. And Mr Semley really had nothing to do with what happened. He is irrelevant—hence Sidney’s extreme displeasure at finding him there at such an upsetting moment. No one wants the worst moments of their life to be witnessed by strangers, do they?’

  Poirot, I had no doubt, would agree with me: if Percy Semley was present when Frank Devonport died, that made him relevant. We were going to need to speak to him at his earliest convenience.

  ‘Did you speak to Mr Semley at all?’ I said.

  Helen shook her head. ‘He only arrived at the very last minute, before … before Frank died. With Godfrey Laviolette, Oliver and Winnie Lord.’

  ‘Winnie Lord was with them?’

  ‘Yes, she was the one Daisy sent to tell Oliver he could come back. She went to the other house twice that day: once to fetch Daisy, Richard and Verna, and the second time for Oliver, who brought Godfrey Laviolette and Percy Semley with him. But Winnie wasn’t with the men for long after they returned. She must have gone off to do her work. There were only the three men in the hall when I … did what I did to Frank: Godfrey Laviolette, Oliver and Percy Semley.’

  ‘How did Winnie strike you? Did you speak to her at all?’

  ‘Not really. She was in the drawing room with us all for some of the afternoon—well, she was in and out with trays of food and drinks and things like that—and she gave me the occasional sympathetic smile. Even she could see that Sidney and Lilian were being uncommonly rude to me. And
she showed me to my room when I said I was tired and wanted to rest before dinner. I did not sleep and could not have slept, as angry and desperate as I was, but that was what I said: that I wanted to sleep before dinner. In truth, I wanted only to get away from them all and be by myself.’

  I made a mental note to find out why Godfrey Laviolette had not returned to Little Key at the same time that Verna, Richard and Daisy did.

  The door opened and Poirot walked into the room. His face was flushed and his moustaches, in which he normally took such pride, were in a state of disarray. I only needed to glance at him to know that he had been greatly agitated by something.

  ‘Many apologies, mademoiselle,’ he said to Helen Acton. ‘I am afraid that Inspector Catchpool and I must be on our way. It is likely that we will return soon. Catchpool, make haste, please.’

  And with that, we left.

  ‘What the devil is it, Poirot?’ I said once we had moved a sufficient distance away from the guards.

  ‘I have the most alarming news, mon ami. There has been another murder at Little Key. We must go at once. A car is on its way to collect us.’

  ‘Another … who? Who has been killed?’

  ‘This is what concerns me most.’ Poirot gave a small shake of his head. ‘There is a body in the house but it is not anyone known to the Devonport family or to their guests, all of whom are alive and well, I am told. Somebody has most certainly been murdered in the house … and yet nobody knows who it is.’

  CHAPTER 11

  A Body at Little Key

  By the time we arrived at Kingfisher Hill, Sergeant Gidley from Scotland Yard was already there. He had evidently prepared Sidney Devonport for our imminent arrival and I was spared the ordeal of having to explain that I, who had last entered this house under false pretences, was now the person charged with getting to the bottom of not one but two murders that had taken place in his home.