Death Wears a Mask

by Ashley Weaver

  My brows rose. “Indeed? You’re right, Inspector. I’m quite surprised.”

  “We have not released the fact that it was a murder to the general public as of yet, but it is only a matter of time before the truth becomes known. The inquest will be in a few days. Once the verdict is decided, there will be no keeping it quiet. In fact, rumors are already beginning to spread. Inspector Harris, in a moment of investigative zealousness after he realized the jewels were part of a missing bracelet, decided to have everyone on the floor at the time of the murder searched for the presence of the rest of the jewels.”

  “That must have been after we left,” I said. I thought of the jewel in my shoe, but decided to wait to reveal it until I knew more of why he had come.

  “It raised no small alarm, I’m sure I need not tell you. Nearly everyone there at the time now suspects foul play, and I haven’t the slightest doubt that news will spread like wildfire.”

  “And what is it that you would like me to do?” I asked. I was still a bit wary, as though I was treading on thin ice above unknown waters.

  He looked at me steadily. “To begin with, I would like to know what you know.”

  “What makes you think I know anything?”

  A hint of a smile flickered across his mouth. “You’re much too modest, Mrs. Ames. My sources tell me that you were wading into a mystery before the murder took place.”

  So that was it. He might have said so to begin with.

  “You’ve spoken with Mr. Harker’s aunt, Mrs. Barrington, I assume?”

  “Yes, I spoke to her shortly before I came to see you. Mrs. Barrington had a good deal to say on the subject. From the first, she has insisted that it was murder. She also tells me that she had enlisted your aid to catch a jewel thief, and she thinks that the two incidents are connected.”

  “Perhaps I should start at the beginning,” I said.

  “That is usually best.”

  I told him of Mrs. Barrington’s request at her dinner party and the subsequent events at the ball, including Mrs. Barrington’s plan to catch the thief.

  “She wanted to lay a trap at Lord Dunmore’s ball,” he mused. He hesitated a moment and then asked, “Was that your idea, Mrs. Ames?”

  “Certainly not!” I replied, incensed. “I thought the entire thing very ill advised.”

  He looked at me with what might be described as skepticism.

  “She fell asleep in the library,” I told him. “There wasn’t much time between my leaving her and the murder, so someone had a short window of opportunity to take the bracelet.”

  “And, presumably, to murder Mr. Harker.”

  Unless Mr. Harker had taken the bracelet and then, for some reason, decided to end his life a short time later.

  “You are certain, I suppose, that it couldn’t have been suicide?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid there’s no question of that. Mr. Harker was killed with a single bullet wound to the head at very close range. From the … state of things, it was not immediately apparent, but upon further examination, the medical examiner is quite sure.” I winced a bit at his careful avoidance of the unpleasant details, but he continued in his usual professional manner. “The angle at which the bullet entered his head is not consistent with a self-inflicted wound. In fact, it seems as though he may have been surprised and shot from behind before he could turn completely around to face his assailant.”

  Someone had killed him while his back was turned. “Then it was a very deliberate murder,” I said.

  “Yes. I’m afraid there can be no doubt.”

  My mind spun at these implications. “And how is it that I can help?”

  He leaned forward a bit in his seat, his steady eyes resting on mine. “I know I have had issue with your, shall we say, methods in the past. I think, however, that in this situation, your social expertise will prove ideal. I don’t want you to do anything foolish, of course. But if you should happen to be in touch with any of these people and should learn anything of interest, you will contact me?”

  I paused a moment to let this sink in. I could scarcely credit that Inspector Jones was willingly asking for my involvement in the matter. Well, if he thought I could be of use, that was good enough for me. I had intended to involve myself, in any event.

  “I’ll be happy to do whatever I can, Inspector Jones.”

  He smiled. “I thought you might say that, Mrs. Ames.”

  “What happened to the gun?” I asked suddenly. “It was still in the room, I suppose, if it was originally thought to be a suicide.”

  “Yes. I’m not certain the killer intended it look like suicide, but the gun was left at the scene.”

  “If the killer wanted to make Mr. Harker’s death look like suicide, it would account for the gemstones in his pocket. Perhaps they were put there to reinforce the idea of Mr. Harker’s guilt.”

  “I’m not convinced. If the killer intended to make it look like suicide, he did a rather careless job of it. In any event, we’re still attempting to determine to whom the gun belonged.”

  “Perhaps it belonged to Lord Dunmore,” I suggested.

  “He says no.”

  I wondered if Lord Dunmore would have admitted it, if the gun was indeed his. I had known my share of titled gentlemen, and it seemed that all of them had a great deal of assorted weaponry lying about their homes. That was certainly something to be considered.

  “I understand there were jewels discovered in Mr. Harker’s pocket.” I charged ahead. I wanted to glean as much information as possible while the inspector was inclined to share.

  “Yes. Four small gemstones. Three more were found on the floor near the body. Mrs. Barrington believes they came from her bracelet, but we have yet to find the setting or the rest of the stones.”

  “If he took it from his aunt, he must have done it shortly before he was killed,” I said. “It’s strange that he should have taken them since he was aware that the sapphires were paste.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Barrington tells me that Mr. Harker was aware of her plan to catch the thief. If that is the case, I am at a loss as to why the gems should have been found in his pocket.”

  While we were talking about gemstones, I supposed I had better reveal my own little clue.

  “There is something I should like to show you,” I said.

  Inspector Jones looked at me in a way that might have been interpreted as suspicious. “Indeed?”

  “Look at this.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the sapphire, handing it to him.

  I could tell he knew at once what it was.

  “Already in the thick of things, I see,” he said, though I was certain that his dry tone held traces of amusement. He rolled the sapphire around the palm of his hand with his thumb, examining it. “Just how did you happen to come by this, Mrs. Ames?”

  “My maid found it lodged in my shoe only a short while ago. It caused me to slip on the staircase and turn my ankle. And there’s something else, a rather telling fact. I was in one of the bedrooms with Milo waiting for the doctor when we heard the shot. I couldn’t get up to see who was moving about. However, Milo noted who was there, and I realized that everyone who had attended Mrs. Barrington’s dinner party was on the first floor at the time of the murder, all except Mrs. Garmond.”

  “Mrs. Vivian Garmond was, in fact, among those upstairs when the murder took place,” he said.

  This was a surprise. “I never saw her.”

  “She was in one of the bedrooms.” While his tone was perfectly neutral, I gathered my own inferences from this bit of information.

  I couldn’t resist raising my eyebrows. Between Mrs. Garmond, Felicity Echols, and myself, Lord Dunmore had been keeping quite a lot of women in bedrooms.

  “Rather tidy, all of the suspected jewel thieves being together on the same floor,” I said.

  “Yes, isn’t it?”

  “There were two men and two women seated on the stairs,” I said, remembering the group. “They may have observed someth
ing.”

  “Yes, I’ve spoken with them. They’ve confirmed that after you fell, no one except for your husband came up or down the stairs. So that narrows the field of suspects considerably.”

  I thought it very clever of him to have already discovered the witnesses. He really was a terribly efficient policeman.

  “Someone could have taken the servant’s stairs,” I suggested. “It’s an enormous house. Anyone from the ball may have slipped past.”

  “Possible, but not likely. I’ve spoken to the staff. There were extra servants engaged for the ball, and they all did a great deal of moving about. It would have been difficult for anyone to have gone upstairs without detection.”

  “Then it does seem it must be one of Mrs. Barrington’s original suspects. But surely it can be narrowed further. All the gentlemen were together when I saw them last. Can they confirm each other’s whereabouts?”

  He smiled ruefully. “As luck would have it, Mrs. Ames, the game had broken up shortly before the murder, and the gentlemen had dispersed.”

  “Nothing can ever be simple, can it?” I observed.

  “Very seldom when murder is concerned.”

  I tried to recall the layout of the house. “Where was everyone when it happened?”

  He pulled the familiar notebook from his pocket and consulted it. “Lord Dunmore said he had gone to ring the doctor for you.”

  I nodded. “Yes, he went out shortly before the shot sounded.”

  Inspector Jones looked at me intently. “Long enough for him to have fired it?”

  I considered. “I suppose so.”

  He said nothing, turning back to the notebook. “Mr. Douglas-Hughes and his wife remained together in the card room. Mr. Nigel Foster had gone out to smoke on the balcony.”

  “Then the Douglas-Hugheses would have seen him if he had come back into the room and left.”

  “Not necessarily. The balcony stretches the length of three rooms and overlooks the little courtyard below. There are doors to two of the other rooms on that side of the house, one of which was the room where the murder took place. However, both doors appear to have been bolted from the inside.”

  “What about Mr. Barrington?”

  “He had wandered off in search of his wife, but hadn’t reached the library by the time the shot sounded.”

  “Mrs. Barrington was in the library, and you said Mrs. Garmond was in one of the bedrooms. What about the Echols sisters?”

  He consulted his notes. “Miss Felicity Echols was lying down with a headache. Marjorie Echols was powdering her nose in the bathroom.”

  “So it seems everyone was alone at the time of the murder, save Mr. and Mrs. Douglas-Hughes.”

  “Provided they really were together, yes.”

  “So anyone might have done it,” I said with a sigh.

  “Precisely. And, as far as I can tell, no one had much of a motive. That’s where you come in, Mrs. Ames. People may be inclined to talk to you. Perhaps you can discover some connections that it would be more difficult for me to find.”

  I nodded. “People do tend to talk. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Did you notice anything suspicious at the ball?”

  I cast my mind back. “I have been trying to think, but there was nothing that really stood out to me. Unless…” I suddenly remembered something that had somehow escaped me until now. “I saw Mr. Harker only once, on the staircase. He…” I stopped. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? “He was wearing the same mask as Mr. Foster. A tiger’s mask.”

  This seemed to interest the inspector. “Mr. Foster was not wearing a mask when I spoke with him.”

  “No. I believe he discarded it when he was playing cards. All the gentlemen had. Do you think someone might have killed James Harker by mistake?”

  “It’s certainly something to take into consideration. I shall look into it.”

  “There’s one more thing,” I told him. “Mr. Harker told me he had an appointment with someone that night. He didn’t say with whom, but it might be worth finding out.”

  “Yes, I’d say so. You’ve been most helpful already, Mrs. Ames,” he said, rising from his seat. “I think that will be all for now. Don’t trouble yourself getting up. I can show myself out. I’ll check in with you in the next few days. As I said, if you can glean a bit of society gossip, it may prove useful. Don’t do anything foolish.”

  “Of course not,” I replied.

  He stopped at the doorway and turned back. “By the way, how is Mr. Ames these days?”

  I hesitated. “He’s much the same as usual,” I replied.

  He seemed to consider that. “I see,” he said, and then he was gone.

  I felt sure that he had indeed seen just what I meant.

  When he was gone, I sat for a moment, lost in thought. This latest turn of events was quite unexpected. I would never have imagined that he would come to me for help, but I was very glad that he had.

  Perhaps, as Milo had pointed out, the murder was really none of my business. Nevertheless, there was something about the ability to prove useful, to make a difference, that I found terribly appealing. I hadn’t known James Harker well at all, but he hadn’t deserved to die in that terrible way. If nothing else, I felt it my duty to do whatever I could to see that a murderer did not go free.

  11

  “I’M EVER SO glad he’s gone,” said Winnelda, coming back into the room and interrupting my reverie. “I’m all on edge whenever there’s a policeman about. Not that I’ve ever done anything really wrong. But they do have a way of making one feel as though one might be guilty of something, don’t they?”

  “I have felt that way on occasion.” I agreed with a smile. “But Inspector Jones is quite nearly a friend of mine.”

  “Oh,” said Winnelda, clearly impressed. “I didn’t mean to say anything improper.”

  “I assure you, he has made me feel on edge myself on more than one occasion. However, this time he actually came to ask for my assistance.”

  “Yes, I heard…” She stopped, flushing bright red. “That is, when I was passing the doorway … It seemed that I might have happened to overhear…”

  I waved away her explanations. I knew perfectly well that it was very difficult for Winnelda not to listen to interesting things that happened to be said in her vicinity. I couldn’t exactly blame her. A great deal of very interesting things seemed to be happening in the Ames residence as of late.

  “Was it really murder?” she asked.

  “It seems so. Of course, you mustn’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Oh, no, madam! I won’t breathe a word. But I’ve been thinking. It’s very queer about that stone being in your shoe. It does seem that whoever dropped it must have been very careless. That is, if I had a sapphire, I would be very careful not to just drop it any old place, wouldn’t you, madam? That is, you do have sapphires, and I’ve never seen you fling them about with no thought as to where they might end up.”

  “No, Winnelda. You’re quite right.”

  The same thought had occurred to me, though perhaps a bit less verbosely. It was odd that a jewel, the procurement of which had somehow led to a man’s death, should be so easily misplaced. Then again, it was perfectly possible that either Mr. Harker or his killer had dropped the stone in haste.

  It seemed that all of this related back to the jewels. I felt that if we could make some sense of the theft, we would be on our way to solving the murder.

  Mr. Harker had been found with four stones in his pocket, and a few stones were scattered nearby. It seemed, then, that he must have had possession of the bracelet at some point in the evening. If so, how had the stones come loose?

  Another idea came to me. Perhaps Mr. Harker had taken his aunt’s bracelet intending to try to catch the thief on his own. The encounter might have gone badly. Perhaps there had been a struggle and the thief had murdered Mr. Harker. It was a bit melodramatic, perhaps, but certainly not outside the realm of possibility.

>   It was also possible that someone knew he had the bracelet and, not knowing it was paste, had killed him to get it. How horrifying that he might have been murdered for paste jewels.

  The problem was that there were so many unknowns. This was going to be quite a task.

  I sighed. Sometimes it was very trying to be a detective.

  * * *

  I SPENT A quiet evening at home and was still sitting before the fire with a cup of tea when Milo arrived home. It was a quarter to one, and I was just beginning to wonder if he might not make it back when I heard a key in the lock. The front door opened, and I waited. He must have seen the light, for a moment later he was in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

  Apparently, he had changed at his club, for he had gone out in a day suit and come home in evening clothes.

  “Hello, darling,” he said. “You’re up late.”

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Oh, dear,” he said dryly. “I hesitate to ask. Of what have you been thinking?”

  “Things,” I said vaguely. I was not feeling especially charitable toward him, and my response was not intended to encourage conversation.

  I half expected him to continue on to the bedroom, but he came into the room and took a seat on the sofa. “It was a dull evening without you.”

  “Oh?” I took a sip of tea, my gaze on the fire.

  “I wish you had been along, for you’re much better company than Frederick Garmond. He’s an utter bore. You might have made the evening bearable.”

  I recognized the subtle flexing of his charm, the maddening way he had of winning me over when I was cross with him. Even more irritating than this familiar tactic was the fact that I could feel it working. I fought against the inclination to be pleased with his comment.

  “Did everything come off all right with the horse?” I asked with as little interest in my tone as I could manage.

  “Yes, I’m going to Bedfordshire in the morning to collect it and bring it to Thornecrest.”

  In the morning. It crossed my mind that he could very well have sent someone else to do it. Geoffrey, the groom at Thornecrest, might have gone to Bedfordshire, but Milo was always very particular about his horses.