A Pocket Full of Rye Read Free Page A

Fortescue has been dead a long time. There are two sons and a daughter of the first marriage. The daughter lives at home and so does the elder son who is a partner in the firm. Unfortunately he is away in the North of England today on business. He is expected to return tomorrow.”
    “When did he go away?”
    “The day before yesterday.”
    “Have you tried to get in touch with him?”
    “Yes. After Mr Fortescue was removed to hospital I rang up the Midland Hotel in Manchester where I thought he might be staying, but he had left early this morning. I believe he was also going to Sheffield and Leicester, but I am not sure about that. I can give you the names of certain firms in those cities whom he might be visiting.”
    Certainly an efficient woman, thought the Inspector, and if she murdered a man she would probably murder him very efficiently, too. But he forced himself to abandon these speculations and concentrate once more on Mr Fortescue's home front.
    “There is a second son you said?”
    “Yes. But owing to a disagreement with his father he lives abroad.”
    “Are both sons married?”
    “Yes. Mr Percival has been married for three years. He and his wife occupy a self-contained flat in Yewtree Lodge, though they are moving into their own house at Baydon Heath very shortly.”
    “You were not able to get in touch with Mrs Percival Fortescue when you rang this morning?”
    “She had gone to London for the day.” Miss Griffith went on, “Mr Lancelot got married less than a year ago. To the widow of Lord Frederick Anstice. I expect you've seen pictures of her. In the Tatler - with horses, you know. And at point-to-points.”
    Miss Griffith sounded a little breathless and her cheeks were faintly flushed. Neele, who was quick to catch the moods of human beings, realised that this marriage had thrilled the snob and the romantic in Miss Griffith. The aristocracy was the aristocracy to Miss Griffith and the fact that the late Lord Frederick Anstice had had a somewhat unsavoury reputation in sporting circles was almost certainly not known to her. Freddie Anstice had blown his brains out just before an inquiry by the Stewards into the running of one of his horses. Neele remembered something vaguely about his wife. She had been the daughter of an Irish Peer and had been married before to an airman who had been killed in the Battle of Britain.
    And now, it seemed, she was married to the black sheep of the Fortescue family, for Neele assumed that the disagreement with his father referred to primly by Miss Griffith, stood for some disgraceful incident in young Lancelot Fortescue's career.
    Lancelot Fortescue! What a name! And what was the other son - Percival? He wondered what the first Mrs Fortescue had been like? She'd had a curious taste in Christian names...
    He drew the phone towards him and dialled TOL. He asked for Baydon Heath 3400.
    Presently a man's voice said: “Baydon Heath 3400.”
    “I want to speak to Mrs Fortescue or Miss Fortescue.”
    “Sorry. They aren't in, either of 'em.”
    The voice struck Inspector Neele as slightly alcoholic.
    “Are you the butler?”
    “That's right.”
    “Mr Fortescue has been taken seriously ill.”
    “I know. They rung up and said so. But there's nothing I can do about it. Mr Val's away up North and Mrs Fortescue's out playing golf. Mrs Val's gone up to London but she'll be back for dinner and Miss Elaine's out with her Brownies.”
    “Is there no one in the house I can speak to about Mr Fortescue's illness? It's important.”
    “Well - I don't know.” The man sounded doubtful. “There's Miss Ramsbottom - but she don't ever speak over the phone. Or there's Miss Dove - she's what you might call the 'ousekeeper.”
    “I'll speak to Miss Dove, please.”
    “I'll try and get hold of her.”
    His retreating footsteps were audible through the phone. Inspector Neele heard no approaching footsteps but a minute or two later a woman's voice spoke.
    “This is Miss Dove