by Sara Rosett
Gigi said, “I just had a visit from Captain Inglebrook. He insisted on seeing me, even though we’d just come from the funeral.”
“I saw him earlier. He took Addie out.”
“They returned at the same time we arrived back from the funeral. Addie went up to her room, and he asked to have a word with me. He’s to be married by special license.”
“What?”
“It’s true. He’s marrying Beatrice Longchamp.”
“The American dime-store heiress?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder he told Addie they were set,” I murmured. At Gigi’s confused expression, I explained what I’d overheard when he first arrived. “He was ebullient.”
“Well, he had the good manners to temper his attitude when he told me,” Gigi said. “He felt he should tell me before the announcement is made.”
“You’re not upset?” I’d thought Gigi didn’t care deeply for Inglebrook, but it was hard to tell with her. She kept her true feelings hidden deep below her frivolous manner.
“Not at all. In fact, I’m happy for him. Our little flirty game was beginning to wear thin.” I gave her a look, and she added, “I’ll admit, he’s the most handsome man I know and flirting with him was quite splendid. I didn’t like it when I couldn’t keep his attention all to myself, but that’s all it was—flirting, nothing more.”
It seemed as if Gigi was being completely honest. Since I didn’t think she was secretly wounded by Inglebrook’s sudden desertion, I moved to the topic that was far more important than matrimony. “I just had a conversation with Lillian about what she told the police. It’s about the cameo. We were completely wrong in our assumption—”
Someone coughed behind me. “Lady Gina, we’re ready.” Mr. Tower motioned to a chair in front of the mahogany table.
Gigi and I had been so absorbed in our conversation that we hadn’t noticed the family and servants filing into the library. Felix and Clara were seated on opposite ends of a sofa. Dowd and Elrick stood behind them, off to one side near the bookcases that lined the walls.
Gigi said to Mr. Tower, “I apologize. I didn’t intend to keep you waiting.” Mr. Tower moved back to the table, where a single document was laid out on the polished wood. Gigi took a seat in the wingback chair her grandmother had sat in on the night of the faux murder.
I considered slipping along the edge of the room and leaving, but Mr. Tower cleared his throat again and began. “The dowager left detailed instructions, stipulating that each of you should be here and that I should read the pertinent parts of the will straight through and not answer any questions until that has been accomplished.”
Instead of interrupting Mr. Tower, I settled into a nearby club chair, feeling a bit like I had a front-row seat at the theater. Mr. Tower’s back was to me, but the family and servants faced him. I had a clear view of everyone. No one except Gigi seemed to notice I’d stayed on in the library. Everyone else was focused on Mr. Tower.
Mr. Tower picked up the paper. “‘I, Vanessa Louisa Renee Alton . . .”
A movement beyond the group caught my eye. The pocket doors that led to the study slid open a few inches. Inspector Thorn appeared in the gap but didn’t come into the room.
I tuned into what the solicitor was saying. “. . . for his faithful service, I do hereby bequeath my father’s pocket watch to Joseph Arnold Elrick.”
Elrick’s expression didn’t change. I wouldn’t have expected it to—he was the consummate butler—but his shirt front and the lapels of his suit shifted as his breath quickened.
Mr. Tower had continued reading. “. . . and to Angelina Joanna Dowd, for her loyal service, I leave my silver hand mirror and brush set because she has always admired it.”
Dowd wasn’t as good at controlling her features as Elrick, and a frown flashed across her face. Both she and Elrick seemed to lean forward slightly in anticipation of another line in the will referencing them.
Mr. Tower read the next bit with his gaze fixed on the paper. “I leave letters of reference for both Elrick and Dowd. I paid them generously during my lifetime, and if they have followed my instructions and invested the excess wisely, they will be well-fixed financially.”
Elrick’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. My father’s voice carrying out from the pulpit as he read about Lot’s wife being turned to a pillar of salt came to mind. Dowd sucked in her breath so loudly that it was audible even to me several yards away. Gigi had said the dowager made it known that she wouldn’t leave them a legacy in her will, but Elrick and Dowd had clearly hoped otherwise.
Mr. Tower picked up the pace of his reading, and I thought he was probably hoping to get through the rest of the will before there was a scene. “To Clara Clack, I leave my mink coat and three hundred pounds.”
Clara looked down at the carpet, but she wasn’t quick enough to hide her disappointment.
“To Felix Alton, I leave my personal library, consisting of over two hundred volumes, in the hope that he will read them and learn the true definition of good literature.”
“I say!” Felix flushed, bright red creeping up his neck into his face. “The cheek of the old bat—”
Tower lifted his voice and spoke over Felix, who’d been poised to stand but fell back against the sofa cushions as Tower read, “The residue of the estate, I leave to Gina Alton.”
Gigi gave a small nod, but she didn’t look happy. Behind her, Thorn pushed the pocket door wide, but no one else noticed as it rolled soundlessly along its track. Mr. Tower read the rest of the will, but his words faded as my thoughts churned.
When Mr. Tower finished, he put the paper down and reached into his leather case. He removed two sealed envelopes. From my position behind him, I could make out the names. They were for Elrick and Dowd, and I assumed they were the references the dowager had promised to write for them. Mr. Tower pushed his chair back, but before he could cross the room and hand off the envelopes, Thorn stepped forward.
He was a small man, but he seemed to loom over Gigi’s chair. “Lady Gina, I must ask you to accompany me to the Yard.”
Mr. Tower stood. “Is that necessary?”
“Yes. Crucial, in fact, in light of the will.”
Gigi stood and lifted a hand to halt Mr. Tower, who was about to launch into speech. “It’s all right, Benny. I’ll go with him. I have nothing to fear.”
Mr. Tower said, “But you must have adequate representation. I’ll arrange with my partners—”
I stepped forward. My heart hammered so strongly that I thought everyone in the room could surely hear it. “Gigi’s right. She has nothing to fear. She didn’t kill the dowager or Stella, but the person who murdered both of them is in this room.”
There was a second of stunned silence, then a babble of noise as everyone spoke at once. The only person who remained silent was Gigi. She gave me a questioning look. I nodded in what I hoped was a reassuring way.
“I’ll have none of this showy nonsense.” Thorn took Gigi’s arm.
She shook him off. “I believe you should do Olive the courtesy of listening to her.” Gigi’s clear aristocratic tones rang out, and the other voices died away. “After all, Olive has done you the service of solving one of your cases in the past. It would put you in quite a bad light if you ignored her now and she turned out to be right.”
“Yes, let’s hear what she has to say.” Mr. Tower, who’d moved around to stand in front of the table when Thorn approached Gigi, crossed his arms and leaned his hips against the table. “I’m sure you’re interested in gathering all possible leads in this case, aren’t you, Inspector? It would be embarrassing if it got out to the press that you ignored potential evidence.”
Thorn’s jaw worked. I was sure he was clenching his teeth. “Fine. Out with it. I suppose you have some sort of cockamamie theory that exonerates your friend.”
“It’s not a theory. It’s a sequence of events that explains exactly what happened.” I took a deep breath
and launched into my account before Thorn could change his mind. “The first event occurred long before the dowager died. The dowager and Gigi were walking to a shop when they had a near miss. A motor swerved toward them, and they were in danger of being run down. Fortunately, Gigi had the presence of mind to pull herself and the dowager out of the motor’s path, and no one was harmed.”
Thorn said, “I don’t see what this—”
I spoke over him. “If you’ll bear with me for a moment, things will become clear.”
Thorn stepped forward and reached for Gigi’s arm again. “This is all irrelevant. Next, you’ll tell us that the incident when the dowager became sick after dinner was an attempt to poison her, but the doctor has no doubt that it was only food poisoning.”
“No, I completely agree with Dr. Benhurst. That was a case of food poisoning, nothing more. It did serve to confuse the situation, though. However, the symptoms were not the same as those the dowager and Stella suffered when they died. No, the next incident occurred the morning the dowager died and has to do with marmalade. If you ring for Lillian, she’ll confirm that Stella was trying to tell everyone something before she died.”
Gigi jerked her elbow away from Thorn and said to Elrick, “Call for Lillian. I think we should hear what she has to say.”
Thorn glanced from Gigi to Mr. Tower, then he threw up a hand. “Fine. Let’s hear it.” He turned to me and inclined his head. “I look forward to seeing your ‘theory’ fall apart.”
We waited in tense silence until Lillian appeared. She stopped short in the doorway, her eyes widening when she saw everyone in the room watching her.
“It’s all right, Lillian,” I said. “Come in.” She hesitated a second, then came across the room. Her steps weren’t literally dragging, but I could tell she wanted to turn and leave. Once she reached my side, I motioned to the inspector. “Inspector Thorn needs to hear what you told me earlier.”
“Oh.” Lillian, her hands locked together at her waist, sent a darting look at Thorn, but his scowl must have scared her, so she refocused on me.
“About what Stella was saying when she was ill,” I said in an encouraging tone.
Lillian gave a jerky nod and looked at the carpet. “She was raving. It was the pain, I’m sure.”
“What was she saying?”
“It was just ravings.”
“But what did she say? What were her words?”
“She kept going on about marmalade. Just repeating it over and over again.”
“Thank you, Lillian.”
She curtsied and went to stand against the bookcase but left quite a bit of distance between herself and Elrick and Dowd.
I turned to Gigi. “Stella also tried to tell you the same thing, but she wasn’t able to articulate the word quite as well. You thought she was calling for her mother, but she wasn’t.”
“You mean when Stella said ‘ma,’ she was trying to say ‘marmalade?’” Gigi tilted her head and gave me a doubtful look.
I hurried on. “It sounds nonsensical, I know. But she’d seen something the morning of the day the dowager died. When I left my room to go down to breakfast that morning, I met Stella coming along the hallway with a breakfast tray. She was on her way to your room, Gigi. But when Stella saw me, she offered to bring the tray to my room instead. She said you never rose early or ate anything off the tray that was brought to you each day.” To Thorn, I explained, “Sending a tray to Gigi’s room was the dowager’s way of pointing out to Gigi that it was time for her to rise and prepare for the day.”
“Which I completely ignored,” Gigi said. “It’s true. It was one of Granny’s interfering ideas.”
“I think Stella offered me the tray because she didn’t want to have to walk to Gigi’s room, which was located quite a bit farther away.”
Thorn drew breath, but I said quickly to him, “I’m sure she didn’t tell you about it. It wasn’t an action a servant would willingly disclose. Nevertheless, she did offer me the tray, but then she realized the kitchen maid had forgotten to put a spoon on the tray, and she needed to go back down to the kitchen. As I walked away, I heard her thump the tray down on a console table. Stella must have left the tray and gone to the kitchen to retrieve a spoon. Apparently, there was some confusion that morning. The new kitchen maid did not set the trays appropriately.” I looked toward Dowd. “Isn’t that right?”
Dowd started and looked as if she didn’t want to confirm what I’d said, but after pursing her lips, she said, “That’s right. The marmalade was missing from the dowager’s tray.”
“And what did you do when you noticed?”
“I intended to go down to the kitchen myself, but when I opened the door, Stella was in the hall. She was walking along in that slovenly way of hers—slowly, as if she had all the time in the world—and she had a single spoon in her hand.”
“What did you do?” I asked Dowd.
“I sent her to get the marmalade, of course.”
“Did you watch her leave?”
“Of course not. I had things to do.”
“And Stella returned with marmalade?”
“Yes.”
“Was it a short time or a long time before she returned?”
“A short time. I only had time to lay out the dowager’s dress before Stella returned.” Her brows came together as she frowned. Her tone had been laced with impatience, but now her words slowed. It seemed Dowd was reliving the scene in her mind because she looked away, her gaze unfocused. “It should have taken much longer—especially the way Stella lollygagged along. I didn’t think of it at the time—I was worried about a tear I’d noticed on the cuff of Her Grace’s dress. I was considering whether or not I’d have time to mend it before she finished breakfast. It should have taken her longer, especially as slow as Stella moved.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Stella didn’t trek down to the kitchen a second time. She took the marmalade from Gigi’s tray and gave it to you for the dowager, which means that the marmalade was poisoned either in the kitchen or while the tray was left unattended in the hall. Since it would be difficult to add poison to a pot of marmalade unnoticed in the midst of a busy kitchen, I think it was added when the tray was upstairs. It also means the poison wasn’t meant for the dowager at all. It was meant for Gigi.”
Gigi’s pale skin transitioned to an even lighter shade. “Me? No, that can’t be right.”
Thorn said, “Why would someone try to poison Lady Gina’s marmalade if she never ate it?”
“The poisoner wasn’t a servant. They didn’t know Gigi didn’t eat anything from her tray.”
“Olive,” Gigi said, “I’m positive you’re trying to help, but I don’t think—”
“It’s the only answer that fits. The breakfast tray was yours. The marmalade was meant for you. If you think back to the incident with the motor, isn’t it possible that the driver of the motor could have been trying to run you down, not your grandmother?”
“Well, I suppose—but she’d been so worried.”
“Yes. You said she sensed something ominous, but it wasn’t directed at her. It was directed at you.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“No. Because you’re not even aware that someone hates you.”
Thorn said, “This doesn’t answer the question of who added the arsenic to the marmalade.”
“But it does. The person who added the poison is the only one who wanted Gigi out of the way—Clara.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Clara’s head jerked up. She didn’t say anything, just cowered back into the corner of the sofa.
I’d expected her to protest. Since she stayed silent, I hurried on with my explanation. “When Stella returned from the kitchen with the spoon, she must have caught sight of you putting something in the marmalade, Clara. That’s what Stella was trying to tell Lillian and then Gigi. Was it your complexion wafers? Did you grind them up and sprinkle them on the marmalade? Or was it one of the other tablets or to
nics in your room? So many of them promise to remove freckles, and quite a few of them contain arsenic, don’t they?”
The faint tick of the clocks in the room was the only sound. Clara dropped her head. “I didn’t mean to kill anyone. I just wanted Gigi to be sick.”
Gigi’s horrified gaze went from me to Clara. “But why, Clara? What have I done to you?”
Clara lifted her head, and her face transformed. It was as if she’d removed a veil. Her meekness fell away, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth twisted in disgust. “Of course you don’t know.” Clara’s chest heaved. “You don’t give a thought for anyone else. You walk into a room and pull all the attention onto you. Everyone else might as well have disappeared. You eclipse everyone. No man can see anyone else when you’re around.”
Gigi looked gobsmacked. She was so shocked, she didn’t seem to know what to say.
I said to Clara, “It was Inglebrook, wasn’t it?”
Clara switched her attention to me. Her eyes were glittering and bright. “He’d love me, if she wasn’t around.” Clara gripped the arm of the sofa, her fingers splayed out like a claw, and drew herself forward. “He can’t see me because Gigi is always there, sparkling and flirting, drawing his attention. If she were gone, he would see me, notice me.”
Gigi lowered herself slowly into the wingback chair.
“So you added the arsenic to the marmalade,” I said. “But it wasn’t Gigi who ate it. It was the dowager, and she felt sick that morning, didn’t she, Dowd?”
Dowd was looking at Clara as if she were some sort of exotic bug that had turned up on her plate in the middle of dinner. Dowd gave a quick nod. “Yes, Her Grace felt out of sorts that morning.”
“Then she felt better,” I said. “The dowager hadn’t consumed enough of the marmalade to kill her, just make her sick. Later that afternoon she had tea and toast, and the dowager always had marmalade on her toast. It wasn’t an accident that the tea tray spilled that afternoon. It was you who tipped over the tea tray. You realized what had happened, didn’t you, Clara? Did you recognize the pot of marmalade? It was the same one that had been on the tray that morning, wasn’t it? That’s when you worked out what had happened, that somehow the marmalade meant for Gigi had been given to the dowager.”