Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5) by Madalyn Morgan (ebook reader ink txt) 📕

‘At the lake with Constable Peg,’ he replied. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d like to ask you some questions?’ Bess nodded. ‘As far as I could see the dead man wasn’t carrying identification. However, your husband said he recognised the man’s ring and his name is David Sutherland, the man you called us out to on New Year’s Eve. The man who was with Sir Gerald Hawksley and his daughter Katherine.’

‘That’s right,’ Bess said.

‘You were at the lake when I arrived today, Mrs Donnelly. Did you recognise the man?’

‘No, his face was too swollen and distorted. Though I thought his coat looked similar to the one Sutherland wore on New Year’s Eve.’

‘New Year’s Eve…’ the sergeant repeated, thoughtfully. ‘Would you tell me about that night again? Tell me the sequence of events in more detail?’

‘I’m not sure I can. It’s almost three months ago, and it all happened so quickly.’

‘What did?’

‘Seeing him. I mean, hearing David Sutherland’s voice in the ballroom.’

‘So you didn’t actually see Mr Sutherland in the ballroom?’

‘No. I didn’t see him. I turned the instant I heard his voice, but the reporter from the Advertiser took a photograph, the camera flashed, and I was temporarily blinded. Sutherland must have left quickly, because when I was able to see again, the chap from the Advertiser was standing where I expected Sutherland to be.’

‘So you decided to seek David Sutherland out, because you thought it was his voice that you’d heard in the ballroom?’

‘I didn’t think it was his voice, I knew it was!’ Bess was getting exasperated. She needed to calm down and get her facts straight - and get the timing in order. ‘It was a few seconds before midnight when Sutherland hissed “Happy New Year, Bess” in my ear.’

‘And you are certain that it was Mr Sutherland who wished you a happy New Year?’

‘He didn’t wish me a happy New Year, Sergeant, he snarled it, menacingly.’ Bess sighed. Not because she had any doubts that the voice she’d heard was David Sutherland’s, but because McGann was talking about the man - who Bess had said on New Year’s Eve was a Nazi sympathiser, and who Margot had said almost killed her friend - with respect.

Bess threw her hands up in despair. ‘To answer your question, yes! I am a hundred percent certain that the voice I heard was David Sutherland’s!’

‘I’m confused, Mrs Donnelly. If you didn’t see Mr Sutherland how can you be certain the voice you heard was his?’ McGann began tapping his pen on the table. ‘Mrs Donnelly, did you know Mr Sutherland before New Year’s Eve?’ Bess swallowed hard. For ten years she had feared, dreaded, that she would one day be asked if she knew David Sutherland. ‘Perhaps he had been one of your circle of friends in London?’

Bess shot McGann a scorching look. ‘I did meet Sutherland in London, but he was no friend of mine, and he was definitely not part of my circle, as you call it. He was a brute and a bully. He was a nasty piece of work then, and by the threatening way he said my name on New Year’s Eve, he hadn’t changed.’

Bess looked straight into McGann’s eyes, tears threatening to tumble from her own. ‘I have already told you that I turned to face Sutherland, the reporter from the Lowarth Advertiser took a photograph, the flash temporarily blinded me and by the time I could see again, Sutherland had disappeared in the crowd.’ She felt weary having to repeat what happened again. ‘Big Ben was ringing in the New Year, and someone pulled me into a circle of people singing “Auld Lang Syne.”’

It had been almost three months since the New Year’s Eve party and although his was the face she saw in her nightmares, Bess had forced herself not to think about David Sutherland while she was awake. She took her handkerchief from her jacket pocket, dabbed at the tears she could no longer stop from falling, and took an exhausted breath.

‘So, to recap. You didn’t see the man who wished you a happy New Year,’ the sergeant said, almost as if he was speaking to himself, ‘and the room was crowded with people singing “Auld Lang Syne?”’ His head wobbled unnaturally on his shoulders, as if he was weighing one thing Bess had said against another. ‘Hmmm! So, in a crowded room above the noise of dozens of people singing, you are sure that it was Mr Sutherland who--?’

‘Yes! I’m sure!’ Bess snapped.

‘Then why did you need Mrs Burrell to confirm it was him?’

‘Because I couldn’t believe that after ten years that fascist David Sutherland was still walking the streets!’ Bess screamed. ‘Of Germany, possibly, but not here, not the streets of Mysterton or Lowarth.’

‘What the hell is going on?’ Frank shouted, crashing through the door of the office. Sergeant McGann jumped up. His face was red, his mouth turned down at the corners in a sneer. Bess sat behind the desk with her head in her hands.

‘I think you’d better leave, McGann.’

‘I was only asking Mrs Donnelly--’

‘You were not asking my wife anything, you were interrogating her.’ Frank went over to Bess, stood protectively behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Good God man, hasn’t she been through enough today? Now!’ Frank shouted, ‘I have asked you to leave once, I shall not ask you again!’

The police sergeant put his notebook in the breast pocket of his tunic and slowly walked across the room. He put his hand on the doorknob, but instead of opening the door, he turned and eyeballed Frank. ‘A body has been found in your lake, Mr Donnelly. Does that not concern you at all?’

‘Of course it concerns me. It concerns us both a great deal. An