Murder On A Summer's Day Part 22

That made sense. The telegram advising Prince Narayan of a propitious date for his marriage must have been sent on Friday morning. Only my increasing suspicions of almost everyone made me wonder whether Chana was here, and someone else had sent it on his behalf.

A smartly dressed young footman threw back his shoulders as we approached, greeted James politely, and ignored me.

'This is Mrs Shackleton. Here to see the coroner's officer.'

'Come this way, madam.'

James squeezed my arm. 'Thank you, Kate. You're a brick.'

If I had held a brick at that moment I know what I would have done with it. This full inquest must have been on the cards since he arrived. He had simply kept quiet about it.

The young footman led me up to the gallery and from there into a room with creaking floorboards. A worn oriental rug covered the centre of the floor. Constable Brocksup sat behind a highly polished mahogany table. He did not stand to greet me.

'Good morning, Mrs Shackleton. Please be seated.'

I sc.r.a.ped back the chair. A more uncomfortable seat has never been glued together in the history of joinery.

'As you know, I am the coroner's officer.'

'Yes, Mr Brocksup.' When threatened with being bullied into submission, take the initiative. 'And you will have received my report, and photographs.'

He frowned, adding indentations to his tramline brow. 'Indeed. Thank you. I will be obliged if you do not mention the photographs to anyone. We are dealing with Hindus, Mrs Shackleton. The family would be most distressed to know that photographs were taken of the deceased.'

'Oh?'

'It would offend their beliefs to know that such photographs existed.'

'I am sure I have seen photographs of a royal Indian lying in state prior to a funeral.' I was not in the least sure of this, but did not wish to accept his claim that photographic evidence would offend sensibilities.

'That is as may be, but the circ.u.mstances of your photographs render them distasteful and inadmissible.'

Why was I allowing this man to wrong-foot me? I seethed but refused to be ruffled. 'The relevance of my photographs is that they show a body that has been placed, rather than one thrown from a horse, a body that someone has made a crude attempt to hide. This indicates that his highness died elsewhere.'

'That is your interpretation.' He slid my report from a folder. 'Your report will satisfy your obligation to the India Office. Unfortunately, it contains speculation and hearsay and so is inadmissible. The family will be obliged to you for giving information about the receipt for ten thousand pounds signed by Mr Thurston Presthope. But you will appreciate that the coroner must rely on medical evidence and the testimony of eye witnesses.'

'If the maharajah's riding clothes had been examined, they may have given an indication of where the body was between his disappearance on Friday and his being found on Sat.u.r.day afternoon.'

Brocksup moved his fleshy lips, causing his jowls to dance. 'The valet burned the clothing. That is the usual Hindu practice after a death.'

'Did you bring me here to advise me that my photographs and my report will be ignored?'

The jowls spread as he attempted to make a pleasant face, to appease the little woman. 'Of course not, Mrs Shackleton. The coroner will consider every item put before him.'

'Am I to give evidence?'

He pushed back his chair. 'This is not a court of law. If there is some point of clarification that is required, or the coroner deems you have something of use to contribute, then you will be called.'

He stood, indicating that the interview was over. 'Thank you, Mrs Shackleton.'

When I did not budge, he walked to the door. With rudeness disguised as courtesy, he held it open for me.

'Don't you care to find out what happened? You are a sworn police officer.'

'I know my duty, madam.'

On the gallery, he walked one way and disappeared through another door; I descended the stairs.

So his interviews were complete. I was the very last person to be dealt with, to be silenced.

The grand entrance hall was already being transformed. Two rows of chairs had been set out in a horseshoe shape. A table had been brought in. One chair was placed at its centre, and another at the end, presumably for the coroner and his officer.

I watched as three servants brought in seven more chairs, the minimum required for an inquest jury.

The young footman who had led me to the coroner's officer stood by the grandfather clock. He opened the door and began to wind a cloth around the pendulum to mute its chime.

Even the clock must be silenced.

The encounter with the coroner's officer had left me feeling a little sick. I went out for fresh air.

James was talking to Mr Chana, he of the black turban who had exchanged telegrams with the prince.

I wandered away from the Hall, towards the ruined abbey. There on the gra.s.s, clover grew. Narayan had found a four-leaf clover for Lydia. James and I once searched for a four-leaf clover when we were children. Now I could not remember whether we found one, or simply ate the sweet-tasting clover flowers.

Usually in life, the prospect of a dreaded event is worse than the event itself, nothing being good or bad but thinking makes it so. But this was something new. The words foregone conclusion came to mind. Everything would depend on the coroner. He could declare foul play. It was within his power to commit a suspect to be detained and charged.

But without a proper investigation, suspicion fell widely and settled nowhere. It would be up to me to change that.

Twenty-Three.

The butler stood sentry outside the main door of Bolton Hall. He gave a small bow and opened the door for me. It was 10.20 a.m. by the grandfather clock.

I took a seat on the second row of the horseshoe arrangement.

Mr Sergeant and Mr Upton arrived together. Both acknowledged me, but went to stand by the great hearth where the fireplace was large enough to roast an ox. Only a couple of logs burned there, more for cheer than warmth, giving off the smell of wood-smoke. I was able to watch the two men without seeming to do so. The hotel manager no longer looked as subdued as when I caught sight of him earlier, but then he was not aware of being observed. Even now, he held himself not quite so straight and tall; a man who had lost a nugget of inner certainty. The duke's agent lit Sergeant's cigarette. If Upton was in any way perturbed, he did not show it.

The outer door opened again. Thurston Presthope burst in with his look-at-me stride. He tried to catch my eye. I looked ahead, hoping he would keep his distance. He did not. In a moment, he was standing over me, belching Turkish cigarette smoke.

'Mrs Shackleton, how pleasant to see you here.' He gave me a patronising smile that said, You thought me a little down-at-heel, well look at me now! He was certainly well turned out in what must have been his very best suit and a sharply starched s.h.i.+rt with high collar. He had polished his shoes and buffed his nails. 'I believe a relation of yours is with the royal party.'

'You are well-informed, Mr Presthope.'

He sat down on the chair next to me, pulling at the creases in his well-pressed trousers. 'Have you mentioned that the prince gave me a small gift?'

'No.'

This was quite true. I had not pa.s.sed on Presthope's misinformation about receiving two hundred pounds from his friend.

'So wise, my dear Mrs Shackleton. You see, I know the Indian. Indian royals are very touchy about that sort of thing. They would consider it deeply vulgar to have such a trifle mentioned. I shall naturally, given my friend's untimely demise, give that money to a charity. Do you have a favourite charity? I know many ladies do.'

I was supposed to simper the name of some good cause. 'Do you have the cash with you? Give it to me and I'll pa.s.s it to Osbert Hannon's widow.'

'What an excellent idea, but no. I don't carry cash. Later perhaps.'

He hurriedly excused himself and went to join Sergeant and Upton by the fire.

At twenty-seven minutes past ten, Constable Brocksup came through a heavy oak door at the far end of the hall.

Behind him came Dr Simonson, his cane tapping a rhythm on the tiled floor. Brocksup indicated that the doctor should take a seat on the front row of the horseshoe. He then turned his black eyes on the three men by the hearth. As if drawn by magnets, Sergeant, Upton and Presthope took their seats at the far end of my row.

One moment later, the butler led in seven men who, apart from a parson in his dog collar, at first glance looked so like each other, with their dark suits and high collars, that it took a few moments to distinguish their features. The banks, insurance and solicitors' offices of Skipton must be missing their key officials this morning.

Finally, the Duke of Devons.h.i.+re, distinguished, gravely preoccupied with guiding his guest, escorted Maharajah s.h.i.+vram Halkwaer to the front row. The maharajah wore an immaculately tailored Savile Row suit and silk s.h.i.+rt. Prince Jaya, similarly attired, led the widowed maharani, his sister-in-law, to a chair. All eyes were on them, and one could not help but feel great sympathy, and respect for their dignity. The prince was most solicitous, waiting until the maharani was seated, ensuring she was comfortable. Watching them enter, I had a better look at her today than yesterday. She was elegant, with high cheekbones and fine features. Perhaps because I was the only other woman in the room, I had the impression that she noticed me. Her pale sari gleamed in sunbeams of light from a high window. It was not to do with posture, but the family radiated an air of bereavement and pain.

James came next, alongside Mr Chana in his charcoal suit and a black turban.

Finally, the soft-soled coroner glided soundlessly into the room.

Chairs sc.r.a.ped the floor as we rose until he took his place behind the highly polished table. With his white hair and open, pleasant face, he had the appearance of a benevolent uncle.

He broke the ensuing silence in a cultured, kindly voice that sounded oddly intimate and out of place in this vast hall.

'Your highness, your lords.h.i.+p, ladies and gentlemen, let me begin by expressing deepest condolences to Maharajah s.h.i.+vram Halkwaer and his maharani, who is too distressed to attend this inquest, to Maharajah Narayan's widow, Maharani Indira, and his brother, Prince Jaya on the loss of a dearly loved son, husband, brother, and of course father, to Rajendra, Menaka and Priya, and to family, friends and a.s.sociates who respected and honoured the late Maharajah Narayan Halkwaer and who will miss him dearly.'

A fall of soot made a gentle patter in the hearth. Wood smoke wafted into the room.

The coroner spoke again. 'May I remind your highnesses, your lords.h.i.+p, ladies and gentlemen, this is not a civil or a criminal court. We are here to establish the circ.u.mstances surrounding the tragic death of Maharajah Narayan Halkwaer. Our concern today is to establish when, where and how he died. To that end, I shall be calling witnesses. I shall do this in the form of a narrative, beginning with his highness's arrival in the area.

'We know he motored from Chatsworth, arriving in the area on Wednesday. He pa.s.sed one night at the home of Mr Thurston Presthope, of Halton East. Mr Presthope.'

The coroner's officer called Mr Presthope.

Presthope stood, drew back his shoulders, threw out his chest and strode to the side of the coroner's table.

After being sworn in by Brocksup, and swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Presthope painted a picture of a happy reunion with an old school pal, a convivial supper, a hearty breakfast and a friendly parting when the maharajah set off for Bolton Abbey. Only when prompted by the query as to whether that was the last time he saw his friend did Presthope hesitate, glance at me, and offered the additional information that he paid a courtesy visit to the hotel on Thursday, to ensure that the maharajah was comfortably ensconced. This was at variance with what he had told me. Such a practised liar should know better than to improve a previous lie.

Presthope returned to his seat, well pleased with himself.

The coroner said, 'Mr Sergeant, would you please step forward?'

Sergeant wiped his palms on a white handkerchief which fell to the floor as he stood. I moved a little to allow him to pa.s.s me. He trod on my toe without noticing. Yet when he took his place by the coroner's table, his stand to attention and taking of the oath steadied his nerves.

In answer to the coroner's question, Sergeant confirmed that he was the hotel manager and had done all possible to ensure Maharajah Narayan Halkwaer's comfort and enjoyment.

'His highness chose a horse, a spirited Arab. He had already ridden on Friday morning. He rode later in the day, having no complaint about the horse. At 8 p.m. in the evening, the horse returned without him, and the search began.'

'You say the prince had no complaints about the horse, Mr Sergeant. Have there been previous complaints?'

'Yes, sir. Some less experienced riders have found that horse difficult to handle.'

'Did you not feel some concern when the maharajah had not returned by 8 p.m?'

'No, sir. I knew he had a friend in the area and that he wanted to explore the countryside. Of course as soon as I was alerted to the horse coming back riderless, we began to search.'

'Thank you, Mr Sergeant. You may step down.'

Sergeant hesitated, and then with something like relief returned to his place.

It was then Upton's turn.

Once sworn, he explained that as the duke's agent he had taken charge of the search, which included Westy Bank Wood.

'Mr Upton, did you yourself search Westy Bank Wood?'

'No, sir. It was searched by the head forester and his men.'

'Can you explain why the maharajah was not found on Friday evening?'

Maharani Indira, Narayan's widow, gave the slightest movement, a straightening of her shoulders as if some blow might follow soon.

Now I saw why Upton had appeared so hollowed out and so changed when I had seen him in an unguarded moment early yesterday morning. He felt obliged to either cover up the forester's incompetence, or to lie, or both. He explained how thoroughly the wood had been searched, and yet was forced to admit that some part may have been missed.

'Is it possible that the body lay undiscovered that night?' the coroner asked.

Upton's answer came out in a mumble.

'Please repeat your answer, Mr Upton.'

'It cannot be ruled out that we missed his highness's body, sir.'

'Thank you. You may step down.'

Although the room held no more seats than needed, Upton looked about him as if he had forgotten where he belonged. And then he returned to his seat, holding each chair for support as he moved along the row.

Would I be called? I wanted to speak up and say what I felt to be true. Yet the thought of having to say words no one would want to hear put every nerve on edge and made me feel physically weak. It was as if a jelly filled with thorns encased me.

Besides, by the time Constable Brocksup had given his evidence, it seemed to me that the verdict was inevitable.

Brocksup consulted his notebook. 'We treated the deceased with extreme respect.' He lowered his head, as if to indicate how extreme a level of respect. 'Having due regard to the scene and to the removal of the deceased, having seen a bullet wound in the area of the heart, I searched and found a bullet lodged in the trunk of a tree, which I removed with a hunting knife and took for examination.'

Next came Dr Simonson's account, which the coroner asked him to present to the court in layman's terms.