The Killing at Kaldaire House

by Kate Parker

  It turned out Newton had nothing else of use to tell us. He just kept whining about his own troubles. Once we left that cold, grimy pile of bricks and climbed into a hansom cab, I asked Russell, “Are you going to have a talk with the landlord of that pub?”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  “May I sit in?”

  He turned to give me a sharp look. “Why would I let you do that?”

  “Because I got more out of Newton than you did.”

  “Beginner’s luck.”

  I gave him a grin. “Probably. I would like to hear what the publican has to say.”

  “That would be breaking even more rules than I broke by letting you speak to Newton.”

  The inspector broke rules? Interesting. “How did you get me in there?”

  “I said you were his sister,” he mumbled, his face reddening.

  “Thank you.” My smile widened. It was good to know even Russell could ignore regulations when it was necessary. “How would you like to come for dinner and tell me what the landlord says?”

  “Dinner with the Gateses. No, thank you.”

  “Only two Gateses. Matthew and me. And Matthew is deaf, so he can’t repeat what you tell me. Cousin Noah isn’t a Gates and falls asleep right after dinner. And Annie, last name unknown, is only a child.”

  “Why are you so determined to follow this investigation?” His tone was quiet. Serious.

  I held his gaze, the two of us unblinking as we rattled along in the cab. “Because Lady Kaldaire wants to know who killed her husband and won’t leave me alone until the truth is discovered. I want my life back.”

  “Tell her to leave finding her husband’s killer to the police. That’s our job.”

  “She doesn’t trust you. Oh, not you personally,” I amended when I saw his expression change. “She believes the police are too trusting of the upper classes. Lord Kaldaire says Gregson told him Newton stole, and you believe Newton stole. You can’t question Gregson, and you didn’t ask anyone else. If Newton was a thief, Lady Kaldaire would know about it.”

  “And you don’t trust the upper classes.” He watched me closely.

  “No. They don’t feel they have to be on their best behavior around me. I’m a tradesman. It’s acceptable to cheat and lie to me. And I’m not the police, so they can be indiscreet around me without repercussions.”

  He leaned back and folded his arms. “What exactly did you learn in Rolling Badger? Who did you talk to while you were in the countryside with Lady Kaldaire?”

  I gave him the bare bones of what I had learned, leaving out anything to do with my relatives. Inspector Russell didn’t say a word until I finished.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  I nodded.

  “And you’re certain Viscount Taylor is in the clear, and Prince Maximilian is involved?”

  “Yes, but I think there might be a third party.”

  “Why?”

  “I think Newton returned later than we’ve been told. Gregson said now that Newton was back he could lock up and go to bed. A good butler, and Gregson was good, wouldn’t have followed his boss’s directions to go to bed until he was certain the upstairs was locked up properly, including the study. Therefore, the man in the top hat left the house later than the time Gregson gave us for the prince’s departure.”

  Russell nodded, his expression somber. “I’ll let you know what the landlord says.”

  “Do you think the landlord will tell you as much as he’d tell me?”

  “You’re a female, Miss Gates.”

  “Your powers of deduction never fail to amaze me, Inspector.” My tone was dry.

  He shook his head. “The landlord won’t say anything of a risqué nature in front of a woman. Especially with a constable listening. He’ll be free to at least allude to certain subjects without your presence.”

  “Someday, Inspector, women will shock you.” Something told me that day was a long time off, and I suspected Russell was one man who was unlikely to be shocked. “Hopefully, the landlord won’t fail you.”

  After a lengthy silence, Russell said, “What time’s dinner?”

  * * *

  Inspector Russell was punctual. He’d also shaved, changed his collar and cuffs, and brought a bouquet of flowers. Noah’s eyebrows rose before he shook his head and went to wash up for dinner. Matthew laughed. Although it sounded like a donkey braying, the inspector showed no surprise and even made an attempt to converse by using hand gestures. Annie occasionally peeked up at him from the doorway.

  I put the flowers in a vase and placed it on the sideboard. Then I brought in the dinner prepared by our neighbor, Mrs. McCauley, and we sat down together, with Noah showing up at the last minute.

  The inspector kept the conversation to general subjects while we ate, I guessed to avoid having to discuss police matters in front of Noah. Noah watched him carefully and didn’t say much.

  After dinner, Russell offered to help me with washing dishes. Annie smiled and flew from the table. When Matthew understood, he folded his hands in prayer and bowed to Russell for sparing him that chore. Then he slapped the inspector on the back and hurried away wearing a big grin.

  We carried the dishes into the kitchen, followed by Noah. “Why are you involving her in your work?” my cousin asked, taking an aggressive stance and looking up the few inches he lacked against Russell.

  “I’m not. She’s involving herself. I thought if I told her what she wanted to know from my interview, she wouldn’t go out looking for trouble.”

  “I’m glad you both have such faith in me,” I said, scrubbing a cup with more vigor than necessary.

  “You and Lady Kaldaire are running a race to see who’s going to be first to get Emily hurt,” Noah said, ignoring me.

  “Nobody wants to see Miss Gates hurt.” The inspector was still sounding placating.

  “Then act like it. Get out of her life.”

  “No.” I spun around from the sink to face them both. “I’ll decide who I help and who I don’t. Neither of you found Lord Kaldaire lying there with his head all bashed in and bloody. I did, and it’s not something I’ll quickly forget.”

  I took a step toward them, waving the cup. “I want Inspector Russell to find the person responsible. I want to help Lady Kaldaire discover who killed her husband. So don’t try to stop me from seeing Mr. Russell, Noah. And don’t try to hold information back from me, Inspector.”

  Both men stared at me in amazement. It felt good.

  “Inspector, take that towel and dry this cup. Noah, you’d better get out of here before I put you to work.”

  He stalked out of the kitchen.

  As I washed, the inspector dried and stacked the dishes on the table. “The landlord of the Broken Bugle is a man called Jack McDowell. He admitted he and Gregson were good friends, but he claimed he didn’t know any secrets of Gregson’s.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “No. And I told him he wouldn’t want the Bugle closed down for being a bawdy house. He blustered a bit, but he finally saw reason and told me what Gregson said to him.”

  I stopped washing. “Well?”

  “A week or so ago, they were complaining to each other about how people don’t do their work carefully or properly. A serving maid had just dropped a pint of ale and made a mess. Then Gregson said, ‘Sometimes, though, someone failing to do their job properly can be a windfall for someone else.’ McDowell asked what he meant. Gregson said a doorman at a club had mixed up two notes and passed them to the wrong members. One contained a very incriminating message.”

  “What did it say?”

  “He swears Gregson never told him.”

  “What club? Who received the note and who did it belong to?”

  “All McDowell said was Gregson told him Lord Kaldaire put it in his safe until he could decide what to do about it. Then a third party learned about the mix-up and had a different way to put the note to use.”

  “Gregson? But if he killed Kaldaire f
or the note, who killed him?” That made no sense to me.

  Russell set a dried plate on the table and faced me with his arms folded. “No. From what McDowell understood, apparently this unnamed third party saw the usefulness of the note and stole it to put it to use. I believe Gregson then saw his opening to blackmail this third party.”

  “That sounds like a dangerous thing to do.” Particularly since it led to his death.

  “Gregson had nerve, I’ll give him that. But I feel confident his murderer was the person who removed the misdirected note from the safe and then objected to being blackmailed.”

  “Someone who can enter and leave Kaldaire House without drawing attention to himself.” I leaned on the sink.

  “Someone who knows how to enter through the breakfast room doors?” He looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

  I scrunched up my face. “Not me. I couldn’t lift Gregson and I’ve never been any good at breaking into safes.”

  “Never been any good at breaking into safes? What kind of a childhood did you have, raised among the Gates family?”

  I stared into the inspector’s face and saw a look of amazement start to spread. There was no point in lying to him. “Grandpapa used to entertain us by teaching us—things. It was a game. Nothing else.”

  With a start, I remembered the dishes in the sink and discovered water spreading onto my apron.

  “Until you used your knowledge to break into Kaldaire House.” He took a step toward me and lifted my chin with one hand. “Miss Emily, that was a dangerous thing to do. And it’s led to your taking ever-bigger risks for Lady Kaldaire.”

  “And for you,” I added.

  “All I’ve asked you to do is keep an eye on your family for me. I wouldn’t have asked if I thought you could be in danger from them. You are your grandfather’s only granddaughter. They won’t hurt you.” He smiled at me, his gray eyes twinkling.

  I stared into those mesmerizing eyes and, suddenly, I saw his plan. “Inspector, have you asked me to keep an eye on them so they would keep an eye on me?”

  The smile never left his face. “Your wash water’s getting cold.”

  I rinsed the soapy plate. “Inspector, do you have a Christian name?”

  He took the plate from my hand and began to rub it with the towel. “James.”

  “Why, Detective Inspector James Russell, did you tell me what the publican told you?”

  “To keep you from going there on your own. It’s a rough place. Cousin Noah would not approve.”

  “You would not approve.”

  “No.”

  I studied him for a moment. “So what’s the next step?”

  “Dogged police work. We’ll get this crime solved eventually. My bosses demand it. Lord Kaldaire was a peer, murdered in a household full of people. The household was just as full, and it was daytime, when Gregson was thrown from the window. Those are the cases that are easiest to solve. Or so you’d think.” He finally set down the plate to take a platter from me.

  “You realize the killer must be able to enter and leave Kaldaire House without being noticed. But who could be a killer and fit that requirement?”

  “Whoever it is, we’ll find them.” His expression was grim.

  “You don’t want me to continue to investigate this with Lady Kaldaire?”

  “Convince her to let us do our job. We’ll get there.”

  “She won’t listen. And that means I have to help her.” I found I was facing him again, standing very close, staring into his expressive eyes.

  “Don’t put yourself in danger, Miss Gates. If you even imagine there might be some risk involved, call me. Or call your grandfather. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Why? Because you might still want to arrest me for the hatpin murder by the Underground station?” I smiled at him.

  “I will if it will save your life.” He looked serious.

  “Tell me about the victim of that murder.”

  He moved ever closer, as if he wanted to grab me. “You’re not going to—”

  “No.” I continued to smile. “I just want to talk about something we won’t argue over.”

  He appeared to consider this for a moment. “This is all in strictest confidence.”

  “Of course, Inspector.”

  He nodded. “The victim was stabbed between ten-thirty and ten-forty p.m. His name was Jeremiah Pruitt. Son of a wealthy and respected family, but he was from all reports a bit of a wastrel. There were a few scandals in his past. Cheating at cards. Getting a housemaid in trouble. Everything hushed up by his family.”

  “Sounds like a fool. Or a rogue.”

  “Lately, however, he’d apparently turned over a new leaf. He was seeing Miss Annabelle Wyatt, the daughter of Isaiah, Lord Wyatt of the Admiralty. His friends thought an engagement would be announced soon. His family was pushing it, but that might have been in an effort to settle him down.”

  “How sad, to be killed when he was beginning to improve his life.”

  “If he was.”

  I heard the skepticism in his tone. “There was some question of this?” Jeremiah Pruitt sounded like an interesting case. And someone my grandfather would know about.

  “Yes. Recent gambling debts. A flirtation with another young lady of society. Some less-than-reputable friends.”

  “Why are you telling me about this?”

  “You asked me to.” He must have seen my skeptical expression, because he sighed and continued. “It helps me clarify my cases in my own mind by talking about them aloud. You have a sharp mind and can keep your own counsel. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather talk to about these crimes than you.”

  He gave me such a heartwarming smile that I couldn’t help but return it. “I’m honored that you value my acquaintance so highly.”

  We were standing very close to each other, smiling into each other’s eyes, when Matthew dashed into the kitchen.

  Matthew stopped, looked at us in surprise, gave a braying laugh, and hurried away again, but the spell was broken.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  By lunchtime the next day, I had done final fittings on two hats and presented bills to some of my stubbornest customers before calling at Kaldaire House. Rawlings led me to the morning room, where Lady Kaldaire was overseeing the packing of the knickknacks that had covered the shelves.

  “Wait, Rawlings,” I said before he shut the door between us. “Lady Kaldaire has a question for you.”

  “Yes, please wait, Rawlings. Mary, Lucy, you’ve worked past your lunchtime. Get your lunch now and come back to finish this afterward.”

  The lady’s maid and housemaid stopped their packing, bobbed curtsies, and slipped past Rawlings and out the door.

  “Go ahead, Emily,” Lady Kaldaire said and pinned Rawlings with a look.

  Rawlings shut the door and came further into the room, looking from one of us to the other as if ready to bolt at any moment.

  “There’s no reason to look so worried, Rawlings. You’re not in any trouble. It’s only that you can straighten out a point for her ladyship,” I said in a soothing voice.

  He nodded, his eyes darting from one of us to the other.

  “Her ladyship just wants you to tell her the truth about what time Newton returned to the house the night Lord Kaldaire died.”

  “I did.”

  “We know you were trying to protect a friend. That’s commendable, Rawlings, but her ladyship wants the truth. We know Newton returned later than you told us. When did he return?”

  “The clock in the hall had already chimed the hour a few minutes before. Mr. Gregson came back downstairs after that and said, ‘Has Newton returned yet?’ I said no and Mr. Gregson was most cross.”

  “Why?” Lady Kaldaire said.

  “Apparently, Lord Kaldaire had finally gone upstairs. Mr. Gregson had to wait on him for a few minutes before he could lock the front door and only then could he come back down.”

  “That’s perfectly normal. Why was he cross?”
Lady Kaldaire repeated.

  “Because he still had to leave the servants’ entrance unlocked until Newton returned. He was threatening to lock him out when Newton finally returned. He stumbled in then and Mr. Gregson snapped at him as he locked the door. I’d finished cleaning the silver and asked if I was excused. Mr. Gregson told us both to go to bed.”

  I was confused by his explanation. “When the clock struck eleven, where was Mr. Gregson?”

  “He was upstairs.”

  “How long was he gone?”

  “Five minutes. Maybe a little more.”

  “And how long was he back before Newton came in?”

  “No more than a minute. Another minute and Newton would have been locked out.”

  “Thank you, Rawlings.”

  Looking relieved, the young man bolted from the room, remembering to shut the door silently behind him. Lady Kaldaire gave me a level look and said, “What made you question him about that?”

  “When I spoke to Newton at the jail, he said he tripped over a step and Rawlings laughed at him. Rawlings was there, sober, and in possession of the information we need.”

  “And did it do us any good?”

  I nodded to a chair and she gestured for me to sit. Once I did, I said, “Did this sound completely normal to you? The amount of time Gregson was gone to lock the front door? Five minutes? Possibly a minute or two more?”

  “It does seem excessive.”

  “Newton still swears he saw the man in the top hat in front of this house, but he doesn’t know if he had been inside or not. Gregson was inside the house on the ground floor at the same time, judging by when Newton came in. Gregson knew if this person had been inside, and probably who it was. He could have spent the extra time watching to identify this person.”

  “Prince Maximilian,” Lady Kaldaire said with conviction.

  “Maybe. Or maybe a third person. Remember, Gregson saw the prince out.”

  “Perhaps he was lying about the time when he said he saw the prince leave.”

  “Or perhaps he was telling the truth.”

  “But who gains from my husband’s death?”