JACK OF DIAMONDS

Chap 4 - Pt 3 (ARE SEETHING WITH CONTENTION...)

       iii

Berry directed Nigel to the East Library, guiding him soundlessly through wide hallways hung with elaborate paintings, sculptures, and wall hangings he wished he had the time to examine. He knew he'd give anything to sit in one of the hall chairs and make endless studies. All the same, it was an ostentatious show of wealth, and little else, he thought. Like the jacket Berry had given him to wear, a little long in the sleeves. He willingly admitted to himself the paintings were quite fanciful, and while they were possibly quite valuable, it also reminded him that the people working the farmsteads on the outlying grounds probably paid for many of these treasure with their toils. It was another example, as far as he was concerned, of the extravagance of riches. People, monied people, seldom think of anything but their own welfare—which for the most part is the same for everyone else—and while he may have felt that it would be better to share the wealth, he knew that type of thinking in today’s world was impossible.

Look at what it’s doing to Russia. The tsar dead; people turning against neighbours, and family. Total anarchy. It looked good on paper, as a treatise, but the reality’s quite different.

“You have electric lights?” Nigel said.

“Yes. Almost done.”

“And you had workmen come in to do it?”

“Three.”

“Know them?”

Berry stopped to look at him for a moment as he considered the question.

“The Baron offered to educate anyone willing, or should I say, with an aptitude for this kind of work.”

“You mean in the village?”

They began walking again.

“On the farms. He felt that such an opportunity should be given to the most willing and capable of his own people. It is a growing industry, and while we are one of the first manors in the area to consider changing to electricity, he’s quite certain the others will follow. It is only a matter of time. There’s money to be made, and he wanted to help all those he could.”

“But only three?”

“It seems they were the only ones able to grasp the mathematics involved.”

“Is it that difficult?”

“It can be very dangerous.”

“Do you think it’s possible one of the three may have been involved?”

Berry shook his head.

“I’ve known the three young men in question since they were children, Mr. Bannister. I highly doubt they were involved.”

“Are involved.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s an ongoing investigation, and until the investigator arrives from Okehampton tomorrow, everyone will have to be treated as a suspect.”

“I do not envy you your task, Mr. Bannister.”

“Why’s that?”

“If you treat everyone as a suspect, you make everyone an enemy.”

“Even as I dismiss them one by one?”

“People will always resent being suspected for something they did not do.”

They arrived at the Library doors and Berry opened them with an elaborate sweep, stepping in and quickly announcing Nigel to the family.

“Inspector Bannister, my Lord.”

“I told you I’m not an inspector,” Nigel said under his breath.

“Forgive my indiscretion,” Berry said, bowing as he closed the doors.

Baron Geurnsy was on his feet, approaching with his hand extended. Nigel shook it as he looked about, taken in with the opulence of the room, obviously overwhelmed at all that he saw. He’d never been in a room as large; it was larger than the small flat he lived in at Chumley. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high, half of it made up of frosted glass etched with gold filigree designs along the edges. It let in the soft, creamy light of the moon, and seemed to glow. There was a large crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room, and several lamp stands on tables and side boards, so that the room was well lit.

There were endless shelves of books, of course—row upon row of them, but then, Nigel told himself, it is a library. A large spiral staircase led up to a second storey landing that surrounded the entire room. He could see wing-backed chairs and reading tables set with what he was certain were Tiffany lamps. In the center of the room, in front of a large, leather couch, was a square table with two wing-backed chairs set off to the side and delicately balancing the room. A large fireplace occupied one wall, where a fire burned low. Above it, a portrait of the First Earl of Aylesbury, a stern looking gentleman with a high starched collar with the same thin face of Baron Geursny

The chairs were all occupied by various members of the family. A son and daughter-in-law; a daughter and son-in-law; a daughter-in-law—so obviously widowed and still in mourning—as well as the Baroness, sitting straight-backed and looked for all the world as if she had been violated.

The Baron was a tall, well-groomed man in his sixties, with grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were such a dark colour they almost appeared black; there were rings under his eyes and a sallow colour to his skin that made Nigel think the man hadn’t slept properly in days. The added intrusion of a burglary would probably not help his demeanour.

The Baron was quick to make introductions.

In addition to the family, and Berry, who remained steadfastly at the large double doored entrance, were two footmen on opposites sides of the room from each other. They’re no older than me.

“This is my son, Gerald,” the Baron said as Nigel made an effort to pull the notebook out of his pocket. “His wife, Daphne. My daughter, Margaret and her husband, Simon. My late son’s widow, Agatha. Of course, Jennifer’s upstairs with the doctor, seeing to Roger.”

“And you were all at the Fair tonight?” Nigel asked.

“Yes,” the Baron spoke up.

“The staff as well?”

“We go as a group every year. The villagers put on a wonderful Fair, and it would be remiss of us not to go. arrived home shortly after ten, just after Jenny ended her call to the constable—you, I imagine?”

“Yes. Do you know what’s been taken?”

“He took the violin, I can tell you that,” Gerald said angrily.

“The violin?”

“It’s a Strad.”

“A Stradivarius?” Nigel asked. “And where would he have found that?”

“In the music room.”

“The music room, of course. Silly of me not to have thought that. How many rooms are there here?”

“Eighty,” the Baron said with a sigh.

“Eighty? A bit much, isn’t it?”

“It served as a hospice for officers and gentlemen during the Great War. All the big manors of the area did,” he added.

“Besides the violin, what else was taken?”

“He took my jewels,” Agatha said softly. “All of them. Everything Andrew ever bought, or gave me. He took my grandmother’s coins. That was the only thing I had to remember her by. He went through my things.”

“Your things?” Nigel asked, at a loss to know what that meant.

“My things,” she said again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow—”

“My God, man! Are you not married?” the Baron said with a tone of impatient exasperation. “Her undergarments!”

“Oh,” Nigel said softly, his voice trailing off.

“My God, the man’s still a virgin,” Daphne said with the trace of a laugh.

“That’s hardly proper, Daph,” Gerald said with a grin.

“I think it’s sweet that a man his age would blush at the mention of unmentionables,” she said, and laughed at her quick wit.

“I’m not,” he said to a moment of silence in the room. They all of them craned their necks to look. “I mean, I’m not finished with my line of questioning.”

“Of course not,” the Baron said in a solicitous tone that reminded Nigel of a man he knew during the war. A captain, or something like that. A very smug man, even though there’d been more than forty thousand dead that morning. He wanted to send a message requesting more cookies for tea.

That’s smug.

The man died the next day and Nigel kept the cookies, giving them to a whore he knew in town.

As a motorcycle courier, he lived a different life.

And it always comes back to the war.

“Could I see the room? I mean, has it been cleaned? Have the maids gone through? I mean to say, with your approval my Lord? But if I could see the room, I might have the opportunity to study how the man’s mind works.”

“And what could you possibly detect going through her room?”

“More than I would be able to determine were I not to see it,” Nigel said, looking up from his notebook and stating a fact; a man who obviously never understood what it means to use tact. He paused, reading something in his notebook from the statement he took earlier.

“I’m more than curious about several things, my Lord. There was no one home except your daughter?”

“As far as I know, everyone was present and accounted for,” the Baron replied.

“Exactly. And then Roger came home. Drunk, I believe she said.”

“My daughter?”

“Yes,” Nigel said, looking up as if distracted.

He could see Gerald looking at Daphne. Smiling.

Yes, I can see how this might be embarrassing.

“The room?”

“I can not say that is my choice to make,” the Baron smiled.

Nigel looked at Agatha.

“Let’s go,” she said getting out of chair without hesitation.

Berry quickly opened the doors and stepped aside as Agatha left the room. Nigel hesitated, and then followed. Daphne was soon behind him followed by Gerald.

“Surely we’re not all going?” the Baron said.

“We’re not going to miss this for anything,” Daphne laughed.

“I have nothing to hide.”

Daphne looked at her and smiled.

“Oh honey, it’s nothing like that,” she said, “I just want to see.”