by Rose Donovan
Surveying the body language of the guests in response to the Countess’ enquiry, she noticed a definite tightening of muscles and straightening of postures. Everyone tried to look casual – everyone, that is, except for Sajida who had a look of terror in her eyes. Fina guessed this was because she was already on edge due to her sister’s earlier vanishing act.
Everyone looked at one another, askance. No one spoke. Finally, Ian cleared his throat. “I saw Mr Dashwood in the library, sitting by the fire. That was perhaps an hour ago.”
Silence. Ian continued, “Has anyone else see him since that time?” A few heads shook. The question hung in the air.
Plop, plop. A small avalanche of snow cascaded past the window, streaks of white against the dark windowpane. Fina jumped. The image of Granville’s body, motionless on the bed, came unbidden to her mind.
Lady Charlotte turned to Grimston. “Please go to Mr Dashwood’s room and knock. Take Charles with you in case… in case…” she trailed off, waving her handkerchief in the direction of the exit.
Ruby floated over to Charlotte and whispered in her ear. Charlotte nodded and said, “Miss Dove has a helpful suggestion. Let us split into pairs and search the lower floors to see if he’s fallen asleep somewhere.”
“Right. The man’s a waster and a drunk, so he’s probably passed out somewhere,” mumbled Ian.
Everyone tacitly agreed with Ruby’s suggestion by pairing off as if they were going to a formal dance. Ruby and Fina waited behind until other guests trickled out of the drawing room.
“Any luck?”
Fina and Ruby spun round at the voice from the doorway. Gayatri had returned, alone.
“Luck?” said Fina, quickly realizing she meant luck finding the absent Leslie. “Ah, no. But since you’re here, may we ask you a question?”
“Of course,” said Gayatri with alacrity, though she crossed her arms in front of her. She seemed to sink into the door frame.
“Sajida is visiting from Tezpur, correct?” asked Ruby.
“Yes.”
“Are any of your family members from Nowgong – originally?” enquired Fina.
Gayatri’s eyes narrowed. “What is this about, exactly?” Despite her defiance, Fina thought she detected a note of fear.
“I’ll be direct, Gayatri—” said Ruby.
“Yes, please do. I do want to know what this sudden interest in my family is all about.”
“We’ve seen some papers here that related to Nowgong. And Lavington’s.” Ruby paused for effect. Fina stared at her friend in admiration. Her friend’s lightning-quick wit and ability to bend the truth came to the rescue – for the sake of justice, of course.
Ruby continued, “We’re fairly certain that the Sykes-Duckworths – the family behind Lavington’s – also own a tea planation in Nowgong. We couldn’t help but think about the connection when we found out that Sajida was visiting from a town near there… Perhaps that is your original connection with the Sykes-Duckworths, rather than Oxford?”
Gayatri gave out a sigh and moved to sit on a settee near the door. She slumped down, looking defeated. “Yes, there is a connection. You see, our family was, or I should say is, royalty near Nowgong. Dulcet & Sons owns plantations near there. There have been a number of local rebellions by the tea workers. We want the British out. Dulcet is prepared to go bankrupt – at least in that area. That’s why they’re ready to sell up to Lavington’s at a cut-rate price. Tea companies are notoriously brutal, but Lavington’s has a horrific track record that sets them apart. They are unlikely to let go, even if they lose money, once they get their hands on this area.”
“Is this the real reason you and your sister came down here this weekend?” asked Fina, feeling like it came out more bluntly than she had intended.
Gayatri clenched her fist, but her face remained impassive. “Yes, it looks that way. We really came down here on a whim. I suppose we thought we could convince Granville, or someone in the family could convince Granville, not to buy out Dulcet & Sons. We didn’t have any sort of plan. It was just an impulse. I was against it at first, but you see how impulsive Sajida is.”
“Impulsive enough to commit murder?” asked Ruby, quietly.
“She is impulsive, but that drives her to make poor decisions about raising her voice at someone or spending too much money, not planning to slip poison in a glass of brandy or a cup of cocoa. If she were to kill someone – which I’m not saying she would – it would be completely spontaneous. If there were even a ten-minute interval between the impulse and the action, she wouldn’t be able to do it.”
“But Gayatri, that leaves… you,” murmured Fina, feeling awful even as she said it.
Silence. Ruby and Fina remained frozen, as if moving would turn off the stream of Gayatri’s explanations.
This seemed to work, as Gayatri took a deep breath and continued. “If I had planned to murder Granville, it would have been planned and I would have made sure no one would have discovered me. Besides, I was the only one who could tell you for certain that he had been poisoned. If I had poisoned him, I simply would have said he died of natural causes.”
“Assuming that’s a plausible explanation,” said Ruby, “who do you think committed the murder?”
“Well, the only person who has a nasty enough personality – at least from outward appearances – is Leslie Dashwood. But now that he’s missing…”
At that moment, there was a commotion in the hallway. The three women moved quickly out of the drawing room. A small group had assembled with the Countess at the helm.
“He’s… he’s… dead?” said the Countess, her whole body quivering like a slow-onset earthquake.
“It does appear so, milady. The gentleman has expired,” said Grimston in a calm, officious manner, though his forehead was glistening with sweat.
“Expired, expired?” boomed the Earl. “Good God, man, we’re not talking about the milk being off. What happened?”
“It appears, sir, that Mr Dashwood died in a similar manner to Master Granville,” said Charles, breathless from running downstairs. “We found him, prostrate, on the carpet in his room. He had dressed for dinner. He had a similar… ah… discolouration on his cheek as Master Granville. The door to his bedroom was locked, as was the outside bathroom door. The door between the bedroom and the adjoining bathroom was open, however.”
Gayatri stepped forward. “I’d like to examine the body again, if I may, Earl and Countess. I’d also like to ask Miss Dove and Miss Aubrey-Havelock to accompany me, as they inspected the first… ah… scene.”
“Is that wise, Lord and Lady Snittlegarth?” asked Cyril, casting a sharp glance at the two women. He likes to be in control, thought Fina.
“Professor Lighton, anything that will help us get to the heart of this tragedy is welcome. Please do proceed, Miss Dove, Miss Aubrey-Havelock and Miss Badarur,” said the Countess, invoking her rarely-invoked imperious tone, nodding toward the women.
22
The broken door, askew on its hinges, provided a sad welcome to the bedroom. Sprawled on a beautiful antique rug, the body of Leslie Dashwood lay face down – positioned between the door to the bathroom and the large four-poster bed in the middle of the room. Fina nearly gagged at the sour odour permeating the room.
Gayatri and Charles immediately knelt down near Leslie. Charles gently rolled the body back so Gayatri could look at the face. “Yes, it’s the same signs of acid-related trauma. Could be the same type of poison. Hard to say for certain,” she said.
As Gayatri and Charles continued to examine the body, Ruby and Fina agreed to make a thorough search of the room. “Maybe we’ll find something that will help us piece this together,” said Ruby.
They agreed to search the perimeter of the room in separate directions and then place their findings on a small lacquer table near the door. It was strange, thought Fina, how a quiet corpse could generate such a beehive of activity.
Task completed, they had amassed what looked like a mu
seum exhibit of artefacts on the small table. Just like any museum curator worth her salt, Fina sat down with her notebook to catalogue the items.
Ruby selected each item, in turn, and described them in hushed tones for Fina’s notes.
“One book. Oswald Mosley’s The Greater Britain.” Ruby’s eyebrow raised. “The inscription reads, ‘To my one and only’.
“That’s it? No initial or signature?” asked Fina.
“No, unfortunately. But it could be Granville’s handwriting, given our theory. Perhaps we can find a sample later,” said Ruby, as she picked up the next item for the catalogue.
“Next, we have a small box of mints… empty,” Ruby said, shaking it and placing it back on the table. “One handkerchief, unused, but by the bedside. One clean notepad and pen. One leather toiletry case.” She unzipped the pale grey case to reveal a number of items. “Quite the groomer, Mr Dashwood. One small leather case with scissors, and an assortment of tweezers and files. One clothes brush, one ebony mirror, one shaving brush container, with the shaving brush, one shaving container with lid – and cream. One toothbrush holder, empty. One comb. That’s the lot.”
“I looked through all of the pockets in his wardrobe and didn’t find anything of interest,” said Fina.
Gesturing at the array of items on the table, Ruby said, “So what does this tell us, besides the fact—” she lowered her voice even further “—that Leslie may have been on intimate terms with Granville?”
“Could Leslie have killed Granville – perhaps a jealous rage of some sort – and then killed himself? Or maybe he murdered Granville and then whomever was part of this love triangle, or love star, as you said, killed him for revenge?” surmised Fina.
“I suppose that’s possible, though something about this doesn’t add up to a suicide – either in his case or in Granville’s. There’s no note, either. And there’s too many murderers in the other scenario. No…” Ruby tapped the table with the pen. “Let’s ask ourselves a question about this room.”
Fina settled herself back in her chair so she could have a panoramic view of the room.
“Besides the peculiar position of the body – though what normal means in these circumstances, I cannot imagine – what is odd?” asked Ruby, scanning the room.
“Odd? What do you mean by odd?” asked Fina.
“Perhaps odd isn’t the right word. I believe I mean to say, what’s missing? Given what we know about Leslie Dashwood, what’s missing?”
“Alcohol,” said Fina, firmly and quickly. She surprised herself with how quickly the image of the drunken Leslie came into her mind.
“Exactly,” agreed Ruby. “We haven’t seen Leslie without a drink this entire weekend, except perhaps at breakfast. But even then, who knows?” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting into a sardonic grin. “The point is that there is no evidence of a vehicle for ingesting the poison.”
“Yes, you’ve hit upon it,” said Fina excitedly. “It’s the exact opposite – though the method was the same – from Granville’s murder. There were too many receptacles – or vehicles as you say – to deliver the poison in that case, though there’s no evidence of poison residue. In this case, where is the glass or cup – or even flask – that contained the poison?”
“Charles,” said Fina, rising to walk toward the body where Gayatri and Charles were talking quietly. “Did you see any sort of glass or cup when you and Grimston entered the room? It’s important because there doesn’t seem to be any evidence of a way for Leslie to have taken the poison.”
“No, I would have noticed – since I’m trained to look for those sorts of things to tidy up. I’m sure Grimston wouldn’t have removed anything in any case – especially not after it was so clear that it was murder… this time,” said Charles. He then held out his clenched hand and opened it. “We’ve searched his pockets and found this.”
Fina picked up the gold necklace, a delicate oval locket with a broken chain. The surface of the locket had an elaborate engraving with the initial C. Prying it open with rising excitement, Fina found the locket was empty.
“Charlotte is the only obvious person this could belong to – or be a present for, though it looks rather ancient, like an heirloom,” said Ruby. “How about middle names: do any of the women here have a middle initial C?”
“I don’t know about the guests, but I do know that Lady Snittlegarth’s middle initial is C for Charlotte as well. Charlotte is named after Lady Snittlegarth,” said Charles.
“What about you, Gayatri, and your sister?” asked Ruby.
Gayatri shook her head, but continued, “And for the record, what about the two of you, Ruby and Fina?” Ruby and Fina looked at one another and let out a light laugh.
“I apologize, Charles and Gayatri, I think it must be the shock getting to us. My full name is Ruby Betto Dove,” said Ruby, turning to Fina.
“My full name is Fina Siobhan Aubrey-Havelock,” said Fina, recovering herself.
“Doesn’t Siobhan start with a C?” asked Charles.
“It’s Irish, Charles. It’s spelled S-i-o-b-h-a-n,” said Fina with a smile, not wanting to make Charles feel inadequate.
“Of course, of course,” said Charles, reddening.
“Well, we have quite a list of clues, now, don’t we?” said Ruby. “Besides confirming where everyone was in the past few hours, we need to find out who the mysterious C represents. And we also need to find a copy of Granville’s handwriting.”
As Charles and Gayatri left the room, Ruby made as if to follow them, but once they were out of earshot, she turned and motioned to Fina to go into the bathroom. They entered the narrow room, covered in a luscious jade green tile with a large claw-foot bath. A towel hung on a rack near the door. There was a medicine cabinet and a mirror with a washbasin near the door. As one would expect, thought Fina, there was a soap dish with a bar of soap, as well as a toothbrush perched precariously on the edge of the sink.
Ruby felt the inside bottom of the bath and then the towel. “Wet,” she said. Then she opened the cabinet. It contained a tin of tooth powder and a jar of pomade. Frowning, she turned to Fina. “I thought there might be a glass in here, but I don’t see one anywhere, do you?”
Shaking her head in agreement, Fina followed Ruby back out to the bedroom. “You were right to look in the bathroom – it looks as if he fell as he was walking out. Do you think he was poisoned in there?”
“It’s clear that he had to have ingested the poison somewhere in this bedroom or bathroom. He would not have enough time to drink something downstairs, walk up the stairs, take a bath, get dressed, go back into the bathroom and then…” Ruby froze. “And then…” she said to herself, staring at the ceiling.
She trotted back into the bathroom. “Feens!” she yelled. “Look at this,” she said, returning to the bedroom, toothbrush in hand. “Feel it.”
Fina whisked her finger over the top of the toothbrush. “Yes, it’s wet. So? He brushed his teeth.”
Ruby stared back at her. Fina could see she was willing her to see the light.
Fina blinked.
“It would be the only thing that he put in his mouth… and therefore must be the way he was poisoned,” said Ruby.
Ruby continued, grasping Fina’s arm for what seemed to be intellectual and physical support. “That explains how Granville was poisoned, too. It would be too risky to put it on the toothbrush itself – it might be noticed.”
“Or rinsed before brushing,” said Fina, happy she was able to make however small a contribution to Ruby’s deductive chain of logic.
“So it must be the tooth powder,” said Ruby as she moved back into the bathroom to retrieve the tooth powder. She sniffed the toothbrush delicately. “Yes, it’s there all right – just a trace, but very distinctive. Would you go to Granville’s bathroom to find the toothbrush and tooth powder? That is, assuming the murderer didn’t take it already.”
23
Fina glided down the hallway, trying her best to appear
causal – nay insouciant – should she confront any unexpected guests on her way to Granville’s bathroom. She threw back her shoulders and held up her chin, imagining she was modelling clothes in a fashion parade at one of the grand houses in Paris.
Her foray into fantasy fashion modelling came to an abrupt halt when she nearly tripped on a curled bit of rug outside a bathroom door. The bathroom created an echo chamber effect, so she could hear voices wafting in from the adjoining bedroom. It was Julia’s room. Fina leaned in through the bathroom doorway. The door was ajar, so she thought it only fair game – this was murder after all – to listen.
She could recognize Julia’s voice, quavering. “I can’t believe he’s gone…”
Then Sajida said in a hushed tone, “Yes… he won’t bother us any more.”
Fina heard footsteps approaching. She dashed around the corner. To confirm her voice recognition, she saw Sajida creep out of the door – looking both ways – before she descended the stairs to her room. Fina’s mind raced, trying to figure out what the conversation could possibly mean. Plenty of time to think that over later, she told herself.
She crept along the hallway to Granville’s room, trying not to think about what lay inside. This was no time for nerves. Pushing lightly on the door, she averted her gaze from the bed, where the body still lay, shrouded in a sheet. Perhaps she would be able to sidle all the way to the bathroom without laying eyes on it. Fina had never been superstitious, but one of her great-aunts used to swear that there was no better cure for gout or fever than the touch of a dead man’s hand – an image that had given her nightmares as a child. Her shoulders wobbled in an involuntary shudder.
Facing the wall, she crept carefully toward the bathroom door. She stepped back to avoid bumping her hip on a small burr-walnut desk that was pushed into the corner of the room, but then her eye was caught by a note thrown carelessly down on the blotting-pad.