Read Online Death at Wentwater Court by Carola Dunn - Free Book Online Page A

“I don’t imagine he’ll use the ‘third degree’ on me.” Leaving Wilfred to explain that American term to his father, she went off to the Blue Salon.
    She was eager to meet the detective. The only contact she’d ever had with policemen was to enquire after the family of the local bobby at home in Worcestershire, and occasionally to ask the way of a London constable. A Chief Inspector was a different kettle of fish, not a “real gentleman,” in the footman’s words, but a man of a certain power and influence.
    Despite her refusal of support, she was a trifle nervous when she entered the small sitting-room. Facing north, decorated in pale blue and white, the room had a chilly atmosphere that the small fire in the grate battled in vain. No doubt that explained why it was little used by the family in winter and could be spared for the police. Daisy shivered.
    The man who looked up from the papers on an elegant eighteenth-century writing table was much younger than she had expected, in his mid-thirties, she thought. He rose to his feet. Gentleman or not, he was well-dressed in a charcoal suit, with the tie of the Royal Flying Corps. Of middle height, broad-shouldered, he impressed Daisy as vigorous and resolute, an impression reinforced by rather intimidating dark, heavy eyebrows over piercing grey eyes.
    Daisy was not about to let herself be intimidated. She advanced across the blue Wilton carpet, held out her hand, and announced, “I’m Daisy Dalrymple.”
    â€œHow do you do.” His handshake was cool and firm, his voice educated—though not at Eton or Harrow. “Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher, C.I.D. I understand I have you to thank for my lunch, Miss Dalrymple.”
    â€œThe servants seemed to think that a policeman is above such mortal needs as food, Mr. Fletcher.”

    He grinned, his eyes warming, and she noticed that his dark, crisp hair sprang from his temples in the most delicious way. Altogether he was rather gorgeous, she decided.
    â€œThis policeman was hungry. Thank you.” He became businesslike. “I hope you don’t mind describing to me the events of this morning.”
    â€œNot at all.” Remembering, she changed her mind. “Well, not much. But I shouldn’t think I can add anything to what James—Lord Beddowe—and Fenella Petrie have told you.” She sat down on the nearest chair, and he resumed his seat.
    â€œYou can hardly tell me less.” He grimaced. “I’m glad you didn’t bring any guardians with you.”
    â€œI suppose Phillip-Mr. Petrie—and James insisted on protecting Fenella from you.”
    â€œThey hardly let her say yes or no.”
    â€œAnd James would have been standing on his dignity, no doubt. I’ll see what I can do.”
    â€œI’m sorry to put you through this, Miss Dalrymple. Just tell me what happened in your own way.”
    He picked up a fountain pen and took notes, without interrupting as she spoke until she reached the point where she returned to the house to develop the photographs.
    â€œThank you, that’s very clear,” he said then. “You succeeded in developing the pictures?”
    â€œYes, and printed them. The darkroom has all the necessary equipment.”
    â€œI’ll want to see them later, but first a question or two. You say you and Miss Petrie and Lord Beddowe went down to the lake right after breakfast.”
    â€œAfter finding skates and collecting my camera and stuff.”
    â€œRight, but it was still quite early.” He glanced over his notes. “Nine thirty, or thereabouts. Weren’t you surprised to find Lord Stephen there before you?”

    â€œNo, not at all. I was pretty sure it was him even before I recognized the jacket. You see, he went on and on last night about keeping fit and going out at dawn to exercise.”
    â€œAh, that makes all the difference. I couldn’t understand