The Mystery of Ruby's Sugar (Ruby Dove Mysteries Book 1)

by Rose Donovan

  “Ahem.” Everyone turned toward the doorway.

  “Yes, Grimston?” said the Earl.

  Grimston stepped forward, lowered his hand from his mouth and said in a grave tone, “This is highly unorthodox, but I feel it is timely to report on the whereabouts of the servants – as everyone is present.”

  “Good thinking, Grimston. Have you interviewed the staff?” asked the Earl.

  Grimston’s body remained stiff, but Fina saw his lips release ever so slightly at the encouragement. “Yes, sir. Charles and I endeavoured to interview all of the staff – even though there are few of us given the inclement weather.”

  “Well, out with it, man,” said the Earl.

  Charles stepped forward. “As Grimston was busy with many arrangements, sir, I took the liberty of interviewing the staff. The only person who had any interaction with Master Granville after everyone went to bed was Mrs Lynn, the cook. She told us he rang for cocoa just after 11:30 and she took it up to him herself approximately fifteen minutes later. Mrs Lynn didn’t notice anything unusual about him, sir. He was in his nightclothes when he opened the door for the cocoa.”

  “Well, that settles it then, doesn’t it, dear?” said the Countess, cocking her head toward her husband. “Dear Granville must have accidentally consumed something that caused the poisoning. That must be the explanation.”

  A murmur of faint agreement arose from the table, though no one person assented openly. It was a convenient way for them to be in denial, thought Fina. Because the alternative was too uncomfortable to contemplate.

  19

  After lunch, the guests moved together, en masse, to the saloon. Fina detected an undercurrent of fear, though on the surface everyone clung to a superficial normalcy. Many family members were absent – Charlotte had retired to her room with one of her regularly scheduled headaches, and the Countess said she would attend to her fish. She said she found them soothing. As for Edgar, Grimston had helped him to his room for his sure-to-be-impending hangover headache. Only the Earl stayed on with the guests, determined to carry on with the Yuletide spirit.

  Ruby had said she was sleepy and needed a nap. Fina doubted that. They had been separated at lunchtime so they were not able to compare notes, as it were, after everyone had left the dining room. Besides, Charles had pulled her aside to tell her that they would have to postpone their meeting. Charles… she thought dreamily about him. She shook herself. There was sleuthing to be done.

  Gayatri, Ian and Julia took up cards at a large table in the centre of the saloon. Fina had been invited to join. She nearly accepted – thinking she might instigate some more gossiping – but decided against it as she wanted to talk to Ruby soon. Somehow the terrible events of this morning had smoothed over the edges of tension between the threesome she had witnessed last night. Soon bored of the initial game, they moved on to a rather serious game of bridge. Every time Julia’s pair won a rubber, she let out a whoop of delight. Must be the need to focus on something.

  Sajida flipped through the latest Vogue, pettishly. She gave out a sigh, looking up at the window where the hail had turned back into the omnipresent snow.

  Ever the professor, Cyril, sat in the corner, reading Carl Schmitt’s The Concept of the Political. His forehead wrinkled in concentration, though Fina noticed he never turned the pages of the book. Was he contemplating complicated political philosophy or something else?

  The Earl, after trying and failing to engage Cyril in conversation, sat in an enormous plush mauve chair near the window, smoking a cigar. Must have been one of the Countess’ purchases, she thought. He looked like he was sitting in the arms of a large, pink elephant. He gazed out the window, occasionally peering at the foul-smelling cigar as if it were a fascinating object. The next time she looked in his direction, she could see his eyes closed and moustache gently rippling from his snorts and grunts.

  Time to get on with it, Fina told herself.

  Her favourite ivory shoes echoed so loudly on the stone floor in the hallway that she felt forced to tiptoe rather than disturb the silence. As she passed the study – where the door had been open a crack – she saw something flash across the room. She crept up to the door still on tiptoe and peeked in through the opening. She could see a forest-green-brocaded figure huddling over one of the bookcases in the corner. Only one person wore that rich brocade – Charlotte. And the bookcase was where the testimony had been kept.

  Fina moved her feet backwards, carefully and quietly. Then something squirmed around her ankle. She tumbled backwards, tripping, and caught herself on the opposite wall, but not before thrashing about with the umbrella stand nearby. The cat! Grayling looked offended by Fina’s lack of grace. The door opened and out came Charlotte.

  “Are you all right, Fina?” she said, reaching out to steady her arm. Charlotte’s face was flushed. Her dress, always a perfect fit, was somehow askew, though Fina could not pinpoint why it appeared so.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Fina replied, patting her hair back into place – or at least out of her face. The two women stared at each other, both embarrassed – as if guilty of something – though each apparently uncertain as to if they had any real reason to be. “I’m afraid I tripped over the cat. I was going up to my room and I thought I’d find a book in the library to read before a short nap,” said Fina. “I was just on my way there.”

  Charlotte’s eyes lit up. Was it because Fina had provided a convenient cover story for her own snooping?

  “Ah, yes, I–I, I was in the study myself for the same reason. I thought I would read to take my mind off… things,” she said, swinging her arms to emphasize the casualness of her endeavour.

  “Did you find anything?” asked Fina, proud of herself for the sufficiently vague phrasing of the question. “I mean, wouldn’t the library rather than the study be a better place to find a book?”

  “Find anything? Oh – you mean a book. I couldn’t find anything that sparked my interest so I was just getting ready to return to my bedroom. I didn’t bother with the library. It’s, it’s – there are so many of Auntie’s fish in there that I feel I might knock over a fishbowl if I search for a book. I think I’ll be on my way now,” she said, tipping her head to the side just a bit to motion toward the stairs. She hurried off.

  20

  “Ruby….” said Fina, now sitting comfortably in front of the fireplace in Ruby’s room.

  “Mmm, yes, Feens?” she said, busily scribbling away in her notebook.

  “I was just in the library and Charlotte was acting rather oddly.”

  “Odd in what way?”

  Scratching her head, she said, “Her dress was askew. Now that wouldn’t be out of the norm for most of us, but for perfect Charlotte? And she had come out of the study looking rather sheepish, as if I had caught her in a rather sticky situation.”

  “Superior sleuthing skills, my friend,” said Ruby glancing up from the page. “I’ve just made note of her behaviour in my little notebook.”

  “While we’re on the subject of things that don’t quite fit, I’ve just been thinking about the photograph in Edgar’s room yesterday. It was of Edgar and his mother – I presume it was his mother. They both looked very happy. The reason I noticed it – besides the look of joy on their faces, was that there was something odd about it. Not the photo… but the placement of it. It was the only photo in the room and you definitely noticed it,” said Fina, with a vacant look. When Fina had first met Ruby, she had had to tell her that her frozen-squirrel-stare was the result of accelerated brain activity.

  “What’s odd about a family photo on a desk?” asked Ruby. “I mean, the Earl, Countess and Sykes-Duckworths don’t strike me as particularly affectionate when it comes to family – but that’s no different than the rest of the English aristocracy,” she said, ending in an acid tone.

  “Yes, that’s true – perhaps that’s just it. First of all, their open display of joy was remarkable precisely because they’re reserved when it comes to
affection. It was also located in an odd place. Not by the bedside table – as many photos are in bedrooms. It was almost as if it were positioned as some sort of altar or shrine,” said Fina.

  “Well, we did learn from the cook that their mother died young, correct? It’s not surprising, then, that he would have some sort of altar-esque setup. But the fact that you noticed it means something, Fina. Let’s write it down,” she said, doing just that with an efficient scribble in her notebook.

  “By the way,” said Fina, remembering her confusion after lunch, “why did you say you wanted to take a nap? You left me all alone in there!”

  “Oh, of course. I’m so sorry. I remembered a spot in my room where I thought the poison could be, so I wanted to hurry back to search – and I didn’t have time to tell you why. I was unsuccessful, obviously. I figured you could continue sleuthing without me, which you obviously did quite well!”

  Looking contrite, Ruby rose from the bed and rummaged around in her bag. She held up a small box in triumph. Grinning, she removed the top, ran it under her nose so she could smell it lightly, and then held it out to Fina.

  Fina gasped with delight. “Fuller’s chocolates! You’ve been holding out on me!” she said with a laugh, instantly feeling the mood lighten. Nestled in lavender papers, each individual chocolate gleamed like pirates’ treasure, thought Fina. There were few things in life that made her happier than a box of Fuller’s chocolates.

  “Mhhh…” said Ruby, sinking her teeth into one of the soft chunks. Shifting the papers aside with her fingers, Fina finally settled on the selection of a perfect sphere sprinkled with nuts.

  “That’s much better,” pronounced Fina. “Now I will be able to concentrate. Right. Shall we start with opportunity?”

  Ruby nodded. “Yes, though we still have the problem of the missing poison. I suppose we’ll have to assume it was in either the snifter or the cocoa cup for now.”

  “So we’re left with Edgar, possibly Cyril – if he was able to put something in the snifter just before he left. As for the cocoa, it could be Julia, Ian, the cook, Charles, Grimston and any of the staff.”

  “Yes – and don’t forget ourselves,” winked Ruby.

  “Yes, of course. Another reason we have to solve this mystery as soon as possible,” said Fina, scribbling away in the notebook. Something nagged at her about the poison. Study… snifter… opportunity.

  “What is it, Fina? Did you remember something important?” asked Ruby.

  “It’s probably nothing, but it was peculiar. Remember when we were in the study – searching for the papers – I noticed a large wet spot on the carpet next to the French windows? It was odd because it was recent and quite large,” said Fina.

  Ruby leaned forward, swallowing her second chocolate – not that Fina was counting, of course. “I do remember – we thought it might be from the snow.”

  “Yes,” said Fina, absently. “Do you think someone poured out a snifter of brandy in a rush? Maybe they couldn’t dispose of it anywhere else. In normal weather you could simply open the windows and chuck it out, but not now,” she said, shivering as she glanced at the window.

  “Yes… Perhaps our murderer needed to dispose of the brandy.”

  “Which brandy – the poison snifter or one just normal brandy?” asked Fina.

  “Assuming the poison was oxalic acid, I know from my own use of it that it does not dissolve quickly. You need to stir it up a bit. That means that if you were going to slip poison into a brandy snifter, you’d have to prepare it beforehand, and it would need to dissolve in at least a half of a brandy snifter of liquid. Even if you had a flask prepared beforehand that you could pour into unsuspecting Granville’s glass when he wasn’t looking, you’d still need to dispose of the original brandy somehow because it would be too obvious that the glass was suddenly full,” said Ruby, moving full speed ahead.

  “Yes, unless you could count on Granville being blotto and therefore in no condition to notice,” said Fina.

  “That’s true, but you couldn’t plan on that for sure. This was a premeditated murder – or at least premeditated in the sense that it wasn’t a split-second reaction. It had to have been planned out at least an hour or so in advance. More or less between the time I made the announcement over cocktails about the stain remover and then when he was slipped the poison,” said Ruby.

  “Couldn’t the murderer just put the poison in their own glass and then switch it with Granville’s glass?” asked Fina.

  “Good point, but the problem is what happens if you are forced to a toast before you’re able to make the switch? Too risky. See how this strikes you: the murderer, holding a snifter, makes some excuse to leave the study, because he or she wouldn’t be able to empty the flask into anyone’s glass – including his or her own – without being seen. They search for a place to discard the ordinary brandy. The best they can do is that mat by the door in another room, knowing that it will likely dry by the morning. Besides, since it’s near a door, no one will think twice about it. Then they open the flask, empty it into the snifter and then return to the study, where they make a quick switch with Granville’s snifter.” She pursed her lips, mulling over her own story, moving her eyes from side to side.

  “But why not just chuck the lot into the fireplace?” asked Fina. “It would be harder to detect.”

  “Perhaps, but since we know there wasn’t a fire in the study in the evening, it would flare up the next time someone lit a fire. Maybe it would rouse suspicion. I don’t know, Feens… it’s also odd because I doubt the rug would stay wet overnight from just a glassful of brandy.”

  “Good point. Regardless of that spot on the rug, though, we still have a good theory running about the vehicle for the poison. So for my notes – assuming the poison was put in the brandy rather than the cocoa, that means the murder had to be either Cyril or Edgar since they were the only ones who were around to put the poison in the flask. At least in terms of the time of the murder,” said Fina, head bent as she scribbled furiously. They had traded the role of note-taking scribe.

  “Cyril or Edgar. I suppose so, even though I am unsatisfied with the plausibility of the story,” Ruby said, shrugging her shoulders as she continued. “Now we come to the cocoa. If it were the cocoa, then our suspects are Ian and Julia, correct? We can eliminate the staff for now unless Charles tells us otherwise.”

  “So that means our suspect list is Cyril, Edgar, Julia and Ian. It still doesn’t seem quite right, but let’s review the clues we have thus far,” said Fina. “There’s the papers I found in Edgar’s room, which suggest Lavington’s were planning some sort of corporate raid on their competition. That may implicate Gayatri and Sajida’s family.”

  “Possibly,” said Ruby, tapping her teeth. “Then there’s the question of what happens to Pauncefort after Lord Malvern dies. I’ve heard he’s not too well.”

  “That gives all of the family a motive, though most likely the Earl and Countess. I cannot imagine them murdering anyone, much less their own relative.”

  “I cannot really imagine any of them doing it, but don’t forget that Granville himself was a murderer, even if he didn’t pull the trigger himself,” said Ruby softly.

  “That’s so true,” said Fina, letting the moment sit in silence. “What about that flare up between Julia, Ian and Gayatri last night in the saloon? Remember the looks they gave one another? What about a love triangle angle?” Fina stopped, remembering the chummy atmosphere between the three of them in the saloon. “They seemed to have patched it up this afternoon, though. They were enjoying playing cards – just the three of them.”

  “Hmm… it could have seemed more serious than it really was last night – remember we’re dealing with theatrical types. I also know Julia finds anything that moves attractive, so that means we could have a many pointed star rather than a simple triangle,” said Ruby, eyes twinkling.

  “Speaking of that, did you notice how red Leslie’s eyes were at lunch today? He seems to be the o
nly one who really mourned Granville at all. And I must say they were very close…”

  “You’re thinking how close, aren’t you? Well, it’s certainly plausible. I feel like someone did hint at it yesterday, though I cannot remember when,” said Fina. She flounced back on the bed in exhaustion. Looking up at the ceiling, she said, “Yes, if that’s true, though, why would he kill his lover? Seems like he’d be more likely to kill someone else vying for his attention.”

  “I suppose, but it could have been out of jealousy, or fear of someone discovering the truth… Oh Fina, we’re in the soup. We have a list of suspects, but it’s all still so vague. I hope the snow stops soon – but please, dear Lord, not before we find the killer.”

  21

  “Has anyone seen Mr Dashwood?” enquired the Countess.

  Assembled in the drawing room for afternoon tea, the guests sat around a table with mounds of untouched sandwiches and small cakes. Fina noticed the level of dress matched the tone of the gathering this time – more subdued. The most flamboyant dresser of the bunch, Julia, lounged in a rather muted wine-coloured velvet vest arrangement, a smoking jacket without sleeves.

  The burning Christmas candles along the perimeter of the room struck Fina as a defiant gesture – that the festivities should continue. Surely this was at the behest of the Earl, but she found it hard to reconcile this attention to detail with the tragedy of murder. Perhaps it was just his way of coping.

  Fina felt slightly guilty that she had enjoyed a luxurious bath before tea, relishing the water that was actually hot – something she never had in college. She had taken her time dressing, feeling more confident in herself for some reason. She felt less intimidated by the other guests since she knew some of their secrets now.