‘No! I did run away from him, but he was still alive. I swear!’
The chief of police waved an impatient hand. ‘Take her along.’
Megan jumped to her feet and clutched Alkmene’s arm. ‘You said it was all right to tell the truth. Now I did and I’m being arrested. Help me. Please help me.’
But the sergeant grabbed the girl and cuffed her, dragging her to the door.
Jake said, ‘You can’t do this. We’ll get her a lawyer.’
‘By all means, do,’ the chief of police said. ‘If Cobb did accost her, tried to hurt her, she might be able to claim self-defence. But that is a matter for the trial and the jury. I only bring them to court. Goodnight.’ And with a short nod he left the room.
Megan’s screams echoed in the hallway.
Alkmene wrapped her arms around her shoulders. ‘I did tell Megan to be honest, assuring her it couldn’t hurt. It’s my fault she’s been arrested now.’
‘Of course it isn’t,’ Jake said gruffly. ‘He already wanted to arrest her. By George, that man is simply looking for the first suspect to grab hold of. First he came up with that insane robbery theory, now this. He doesn’t want to look beneath the surface so he won’t upset any people here. Rich, important people.’
Alkmene wasn’t in the mood to flare at Jake’s prejudices about wealth and titles.
She walked over to the window and watched how Megan was put into the police car and driven away. Her throat was tight, and she had difficulty speaking. ‘Poor girl. First, she must have been terrified by that lecher Cobb hounding her about the house, trying to force himself on her. Now Cobb is finally dead and out of her way, and before she can even breathe a sigh of relief, she’s accused of his murder.’
Jake came to stand behind her. ‘I wonder,’ he said in a pensive tone, ‘why the chief of police dropped his robbery theory so quickly. It was a convenient solution to him obviously. Why would he accuse someone inside the household if he could claim an unknown party had done it and got away?’
‘Maybe he doesn’t like people saying he let some criminal take off?’
Jake seemed to consider it. ‘No, I don’t think that’s it. Someone pointed the finger at Megan, quite deliberately. Seems to me it was this Mrs Carruthers. She revealed Megan had broken the perfume bottle in your room yesterday; she suggested a love affair with the dead man. An illicit love affair even. Why, if a young man likes a young girl, and neither of them is attached, let alone married, would it be illicit?’
Alkmene shrugged. ‘Mrs Carruthers might not like romantic entanglements in general. Some elderly spinsters think everything having to do with attraction between the sexes is sordid.’
‘A remark our good doctor could have made,’ Jake said.
Alkmene spun to him. ‘Don’t be such a tease. It’s hardly the time for it.’
Jake met her angry gaze with a smile. ‘I just wanted to rile you into activity. You’re taking this arrest too personally. Mrs Carruthers and Zeilovsky created the net in which poor Megan is now entangled. Not you.’
‘My suggesting she lie about the broken perfume bottle has taken on a significance I couldn’t have foreseen.’ Alkmene sighed. ‘I only wanted to help the poor girl cover up her clumsiness. But I should have realized what had really happened in that room. After all, I did see Cobb in the corridor, coming at me just as I approached. He looked so smug. And Megan stood beside the broken bottle with this odd mark on her neck. A reddish, rash-like mark. Cobb had probably been trying to kiss her there. I should have understood he was harassing her. Then I could have complained to Mrs Hargrove about Cobb coming into my bedroom and he might have been fired on the spot, might never have had the chance to blackmail anybody at the ball.’
Jake tapped her arm. ‘No point in going over what-ifs now. We must ask ourselves why the housekeeper and the psychiatrist needed a victim so quickly, even though the police were considering an outsider as the culprit. I wonder if dear Dr Zeilovsky is even a doctor. I mean, he doesn’t seem to claim that title for himself. Others call him that. How far do his credentials go? Is he really a trained psychiatrist? Or just someone who likes to force his opinion on others?’
Alkmene huffed. ‘He’s playing a dangerous game then. Playing with other people’s lives. Megan could be convicted of the murder. She could die.’
Jake held her gaze. ‘Exactly. And I want to know why these people are taking such chances with a young girl’s life. Now, you have to do something for me. Something important.’
Chapter Eight
After a few hours of fitful dozing, Alkmene forced herself to have some toast and a lot of black coffee before wandering out to the stables. The morning sunshine played across the painted wooden doors. No members of the family showed themselves unless they’d let the stablehands know in advance that they wished to ride and their mount was fully prepared for them.
But Alkmene suspected a man like Hargrove hated tension and would avoid it where he could, so she hoped to meet him there to run the errand Jake had given her before going to bed. Puzzled by the request, she had asked Jake why he couldn’t do it himself, as he was obviously closer to Hargrove than she had originally thought, having been asked to help with a delicate family matter.
But Jake had said it needed a feminine touch.
It was typical of Jake to give this reason when it was convenient, when he would in other instances have snorted at the idea there could even be something like a feminine touch, or intuition, or whatever else.
But since Alkmene herself was curious about the very thing Jake needed additional information about, she had accepted his poor reason and promised she would talk to Hargrove about it at the first opportunity that presented itself.
And so here she was now, following the sounds of metallic clinking into the saddle room.
Hargrove stood at the wall, rummaging through an assortment of bridles. His movements suggested preoccupation rather than determination.
Alkmene said, ‘Good morning.’
A bridle fell, the bit clinking on the stone floor. Hargrove turned to her in a whoosh. He put his hand to his chest. ‘Alkmene! You gave me a start.’
‘Afraid of murderers lurking about?’ Alkmene hitched a brow at him. ‘I thought the police had made an arrest in the night. Everything is well now, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Hargrove waved a hand in an annoyed gesture. He picked up the fallen bridle and returned it to the hook. ‘Did you see my wife at breakfast? I suppose murder is enough to call up one of her famous headaches, but with guests she can’t hide in her room.’
It sounded quite vicious for a normally placid man, and Alkmene looked at him more closely. His hair was tousled, his riding boots put on hastily, with his trousers tucked into one and hanging half over the other. She frowned. ‘Don’t you believe the police have arrested the right person?’ If Hargrove thought Megan was innocent, he might help them to clear her.
Hargrove huffed. ‘Does it matter what I believe? The police march in here, first combing the grounds for a robber, then arresting a member of my staff.’
He rubbed his forehead. ‘I just need a ride to clear my mind.’
‘Shall I join you?’
Hargrove looked her over. ‘When’s the last time you rode? Some early morning rain has made the terrain slippery, and I don’t want you to take a fall. Denise would blame me for taking bad care of her friends.’
Alkmene leaned back on her heels. ‘Denise knows I’m a great rider and I don’t like to be denied. Besides, she’s still in bed.’
Hargrove turned back to the bridles.
Alkmene said, ‘Do you believe this girl Megan capable of killing?’
Hargrove didn’t reply. His lean, suntanned hands kept rearranging leather on the wall.
Alkmene repeated, ‘Do you believe Megan capable of killing?’
‘No, not really.’ Hargrove sounded almost resigned, as if he’d gone over the reasoning in his own mind and already drawn the inevitable co
nclusion.
‘Then you must arrange a lawyer for her. You’re well aware she has no resources to do so herself.’
Hargrove turned to her in a snap. ‘You can’t expect me to hire a lawyer to defend one of my servants.’
‘Why not? If you believe the girl is innocent… Would you rather see her hanged?’
Hargrove winced. ‘My wife was right last night at dinner, Alkmene. You can put things quite crudely.’
Alkmene took a step towards him. ‘I’m merely concerned for Megan’s future. You know just as well as I do she might be convicted in spite of being innocent. Will you let that happen? She works for you; you do bear some sort of responsibility for her fate.’
Hargrove held her gaze a moment. ‘You have money. You can hire a lawyer for her. Or else your annoying reporter friend can.’
‘Oh, now he’s an annoying reporter, but yesterday you introduced him to your family and guests like an old friend. Because you needed him.’
Hargrove cursed. ‘He told you! And I made him swear he wouldn’t.’
‘No, Jake didn’t tell me a thing. I did press him, of course, as I didn’t buy into your little Eton story in the first place, but he refused to tell me anything. He’s a man of his word. You can rely on him. He might have some odd ideas about titles and wealth, but he does have integrity.’
Hargrove sighed. ‘I suppose so. Else I would never have engaged him in the first place.’
He cursed again. ‘Why does this have to be so complicated?’
Alkmene waited a few moments for him to go on of his own accord. When he didn’t, she said, ‘Are you afraid someone close to you is involved in the murder?’
Hargrove stared at her. His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to determine how much she already knew. At last he asked, ‘Did you know Denise had invited him out here?’
Alkmene was dumbfounded a moment. ‘Who?’
Hargrove snorted. ‘That man she insists on seeing even though I have forbidden it. He was here last night. I recognized him even though he came disguised like all the guests.’
‘Beak-mask,’ Alkmene said pensively.
Hargrove frowned. ‘What?’
‘That is what I called him on account of that grotesque mask. Contrary to what you seem to believe, I had no idea she was seeing someone unsuitable. She’s not mentioned him to me at all.’
Hargrove rubbed his temples. ‘She might not have for a good reason. You would have sense enough to warn her against it.’
Alkmene frowned. ‘Was Jake’s work for you related to this “friend” of Denise?’
Hargrove laughed softly. ‘No, he is too well known to need any kind of investigation. Who hasn’t heard of the Comte Margres?’
‘The Frenchman who claims rights to his own princedom in the south of France?’
‘Exactly. He first married a German princess, hoping her family would support him in his claims to the land in question. They refused to do so, however, and she died after a fall from a horse while she was out riding with him, alone. There have been ugly rumours ever since that it was not an accident, but murder.’
‘Because he married again so soon afterwards.’
Hargrove nodded. ‘This time a Greek princess who owned an island just off the French coast where he could set up his own little princedom. She died as well, drowned in the sea while swimming. He inherited the island and everything else she owned. Again, there were rumours he had a hand in her death. And now he is after my daughter.’
Alkmene took a deep breath. ‘Are you sure about his motives? Denise may be a wealthy heiress now, but that won’t last. As soon as your wife bears you a son…’
‘He knows. That’s just why he’s pushing her to elope with him. He knows that if they marry at Gretna Green, the marriage will be valid. She will come into money and should she die...’
Alkmene shivered. She had to speak with Denise urgently. She wet her lips. ‘Do you think Beak-mask had anything to do with the death of your servant, Cobb?’
Hargrove made a gesture. ‘I don’t know. Cobb was a nosy little man, always trying to get into people’s private affairs. He might have known something about Denise and her comte that not even I knew of.’
He clenched his hand into a fist and banged the wall. ‘I have no intention of clearing the maid, Alkmene, if that might mean suspicion will fall on somebody else. I trust you understand now why I feel that way.’
Alkmene held his gaze. ‘Have the police taken the letter from the boathouse?’
He seemed puzzled. ‘What letter?’
‘The one under the lacy thing wrapped around the tray.’
Hargrove shook his head. ‘They took nothing but the body with the steak knife in it and Megan. They fully believe in their case against her.’
Alkmene grabbed his arm. ‘Then we must go to the boathouse and I will show you something. It is very important for the case.’
This wasn’t exactly what Jake had told her to do, but as he had left the execution to her, it was her mission now and she could take the approach she deemed most viable. She pulled Hargrove along, despite his protestations.
They came up to the boathouse, which was basking in the morning sunshine. The golden draperies were still in place, moving on the breeze. The braziers on both sides of the door had died down, leaving nothing but blackened embers in them.
Alkmene vividly remembered the sensation of last night when she had stood there before entering, and sensed someone was watching her from behind. Had it been Keegan? Was that why he had been so sure she was behind the draperies inside the boathouse? Because he had seen her enter?
Did that make it more or less likely he was the killer?
She turned the doorknob and entered. On the table everything was the same as it had been: the tray with glasses, the white lacy cover wrapped around it.
But…
The corner of the envelope hidden underneath was no longer visible. And when she moved the lace carefully, picking up an edge between thumb and finger, she saw nothing but the shiny table surface.
‘Where is the letter from the law firm?’ she asked Hargrove.
He frowned. ‘What letter?’
‘There was a letter here from your solicitors. Outlining some trouble with assets.’ She wasn’t willing to go into more detail without the actual letter to back up her statement. If Cobb had taken it straight from the incoming mail, before Hargrove had even seen it, he might still be blissfully unaware of his brother-in-law’s illegal actions. ‘Where is it?’
Hargrove scratched his head. ‘I have no idea. Why would a letter of that nature be lying around here?’
‘Cobb might have brought it, intending to discuss it with somebody. It was here when I found the body. I looked at it while Keegan was out getting the police. After that… Who’s been in here?’
‘Only the police. Oh, and Zeilovsky. He wanted to see the scene so he could better judge the suspects’ statements.’
Him again! Had he noticed the corner of the envelope and taken the thing to find out what was inside?
Hargrove continued, ‘I think Mrs Carruthers was in here, too. She was looking for Megan. Said the poor girl might have been killed as well.’
So concerned for Megan, while later accusing her, tying the noose that had closed around the poor girl’s neck. How interesting.
Hargrove continued, ‘I have been here, of course, you know that, and your friend Jake. Then Felicia.’
Alkmene perked up. ‘Felicia? What was she doing here?’
‘She had seen me leaving the ball and came to ask what the bustle was all about. I was able to send her away before she saw the dead body. She’s always been queasy at the sight of blood. Might have collapsed in a heap and caused even more commotion.’
‘So she hasn’t been near the table and the tray?’
‘Not that I know of.’ Hargrove eyed her. ‘What are you trying to establish, Alkmene? And why were you reading a letter that wasn’t addressed to you?’
; Alkmene felt her face flush, but she tried not to look too guilty. ‘To find a clue as to the identity of the killer, of course.’
‘Well, the police have made an arrest now.’ Hargrove took her by the shoulder. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘But...’
‘I want to hear no more about it.’ He propelled her out of the boathouse. ‘I’m going for my ride. Alone.’
‘But wait… Mr Hargrove!’ She had to rush to keep up with his long, angry strides. ‘Were you really with Zeilovsky all of the time? From dinner till the moment the murder occurred? It seems like such a very long time. What on earth were you talking about? You never danced with your wife? Or left Zeilovsky to get a drink? Not for a few minutes when...’
‘You’re not an officer of the law, Alkmene. I’m sure you mean well, that you have the best interests of the girl at heart, but the police can better handle this. They’ll take fingerprints off the knife and have the case closed in no time. You let it rest now.’
Hargrove halted a moment to look at her. ‘And don’t talk to Denise about that comte. I will solve that problem my own way.’
It sounded rather ominous. Alkmene stared after him as he made for the stables.
‘I assume you failed?’ a cynical voice said.
Alkmene turned to Jake. He looked like he had slept well instead of being up for hours over some dead man in the boathouse. He gave her a wry smile. ‘I thought you could handle something like that with a bit of diplomacy.’
‘I don’t know Hargrove very well so I had little to go on. Besides, I run out of diplomacy very fast when a rich man with contacts simply wants to let a young girl fend for herself in the face of a murder accusation.’
Alkmene leaned over and lowered her voice. ‘Hargrove knows more about it than he wants to admit. Something is troubling him, I could see it in his face. I just didn’t have time to dig deep enough to tease it out of him. And the letter is gone.’
‘What letter?’
‘The one accusing Felicia’s husband, Joseph, of having sold assets belonging to the Hargroves for his own gain. Who took it? Who even knew it was here?’
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