‘And he doesn’t know it was me that told you how to find him?’ she frowned.
‘No. There’s bound to be somebody seeking revenge on him for being short-changed and he’ll think it’s them. You’re in the clear,’ Guy reassured her.
Louisa poured them each a cup of tea while Rose talked. ‘I saw you at that party when Dot had that accident, didn’t I? At Grosvenor Place,’ said Rose.
‘I’d opened the door to a man who said he was a friend of Ronan’s – and you came running over.’ Louisa saw the images replaying in her mind. ‘I noticed him give you a package but I couldn’t think what it would be.’
‘I worried about that,’ said Rose. ‘That’s why I panicked when I saw you again in Paris.’
‘Did you ever supply someone called Luke Meyer?’ Louisa wanted to know. It wasn’t her business, strictly speaking, but it felt important.
Rose thought for a second or two. ‘I don’t think so, but I might have done. I can’t remember all their names.’
‘No, of course not.’ This didn’t quite reassure Louisa. ‘Did you tell Mr Sullivan that you saw Dot fall?’
Rose put her cup down. ‘I did, it were shocking. They – that is, Elizabeth and Dot – had gone through the gate, and were leaning on the glass, but they had their hands holding on to the railing behind them. They looked fine but Dot she … ’ Her eyes blinked as she remembered the terrible details. ‘She sort of passed out. I saw it. Her eyes rolled backwards, and her hand let go and that’s why she collapsed through the glass.’
She looked at Guy then. ‘That’s what frightened me. I thought if I was near, and I had some of the drugs on me, not to mention I’d been seen talking to Ronan, I had to get out.’
While Guy reassured her, Louisa thought back to that night in the kitchens and the last time she had seen Elizabeth and Dot. She remembered something she’d not thought about and now she bitterly regretted the failure of her memory. It was Dot, stealing some devils-on-horseback off a plate, and the assistant cook shouting out that they were meant for young Mr Guinness, ‘special for him’. Someone in that kitchen had tried to poison Bryan Guinness but killed Dot instead. Could it be the same person that had killed Shaun Mulloney by accident, with the chocolates intended for Diana?
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
After they had said goodbye to Rose, Louisa walked with Guy to the station and outlined her plan to him and arranged for them to meet again, with Mary Moon, at Grosvenor Place the following day at eleven o’clock.
Louisa busied herself in tasks for the rest of the day and tried not to think about what might happen, but come the morning, she woke with goosepimples on her arms and legs though she was perfectly warm in her room at Cheyne Walk. It was early but the sun had come up and she took the opportunity to go down to the kitchen and have breakfast before anyone else had stirred. The household was small when it was only Diana there, just the live-in cook, Mrs Dudley, with a kitchen maid and a tweeny who came in daily. A gardener came by for an hour or two each day, largely because Diana had plants throughout the house that needed watering; a larger team oversaw the long garden at the back that seemed to run practically to the river’s edge. It was a quiet and civilised corner of the world, with a wide range of books on the shelves that both Mr and Mrs Guinness read, a growing collection of records for the gramophone player and a radio in the morning room. In only the few years since her marriage, Diana had the acquired the confidence to make Cheyne Walk entirely her own.
Having carried out her work as necessary and seen Diana off to meet Lady Halifax at Peter Jones before a luncheon in Mayfair, Louisa set off to Grosvenor Place, hurrying a little. She wasn’t late but she was enthused and the fresh breeze seemed almost to chase her down the street.
Guy and Mary were approaching the house just as Louisa turned the corner but she almost stopped when she saw there was another man with them. He looked tall and elegantly dressed from the back but when he turned around, looking up and down the street, she realized who it was: the detective who had interviewed her after Mrs Mulloney’s body had been discovered. She hadn’t enjoyed that experience much and he had shown much suspicion of her. She hoped he wouldn’t upset her plans. Mary saw her first and waved, then broke away from Guy and the other man, to catch Louisa before she reached them. Mary started to say thank you to Louisa for suggesting to Guy that he request Mary be the assistant uniform but Louisa interrupted her.
‘Is that DI Stiles?’
‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘He interviewed me for … It doesn’t matter. Why is here now?’
Mary looked apologetic. ‘The inquiry into the death of the maid was his, Guy couldn’t open it up again without his permission. He insisted on being here. But I’m sure it will be fine.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Louisa, feeling her stomach sink. ‘I don’t think he trusts me.’
‘He’ll probably have to question you. You’re a new witness, you see.’
Louisa knew there was nothing to be done so the two of them walked up to Guy and Stiles, where there was a polite exchange of handshakes and introductions. Stiles looked at Louisa without giving anything away about what he was thinking. ‘We’ve met before, of course. I’m interested to hear what you’ve got to say but I can’t help thinking this is going to be a waste of time.’
Guy stepped in then. ‘Sir, until we ask the necessary questions we won’t know for sure, but it’s very possible that Miss Cannon has pulled together various pieces of a much larger puzzle that none of us have seen.’
‘But why couldn’t we have done the interviews at the station?’
‘Because that might alert the chief suspect, sir. This way, we can make a discreet inquiry without setting off any alarms.’
‘Fine, Sullivan. I’ll let you lead the way on this but it’s going to be on my head if any of this backfires. I’d like you to keep that in mind.’ He turned to Louisa. ‘Miss Cannon, you and I will be having a chat of our own.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said.
As agreed, Louisa took them round to the back entrance, where she knocked on the door. It was opened by a maid who recognized Louisa but was taken aback to see her surrounded by two men and a policewoman. ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ said Louisa. ‘I know we look like quite a crowd but I rang yesterday and made an appointment to see Mrs Norris, she’s expecting us. Well, me.’
‘I see. You’d better come in then. She’ll be in her sitting room, I expect.’
They were left waiting in the hall while Mrs Norris was fetched, and she arrived quickly, walking with the brisk steps of every efficient housekeeper. ‘Miss Cannon,’ she acknowledged and waited for Louisa to introduce her to the assembled group.
‘May I ask what this is about? There’s rather a lot of you here.’
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ said Stiles respectfully. ‘We won’t take up any more of your time than we need to, I promise. It’s just a few quick questions. As you will remember, I led this inquiry shortly after the event, but something new has come up for our consideration and we need to take another look at what happened that night. Would you mind if you took us through the events of the evening?’
‘You’d better come through to the kitchen. Follow me.’
Feeling as if they were on a guided tour, they all walked along the narrow corridor to the kitchen, a large basement room with narrow windows along the top of the walls, just enough to let out the steam and heat on a busy night. Today, it was quiet, with the family away and only the servants to feed. Two kitchen maids stood at the wooden table that dominated the room, while a third stirred a pot on the stove. Off the kitchen were three anterooms: a still room for the pastries, a scullery for the washing up and the cook’s office. This last was practically a cupboard, with cookbooks and a desk with sheaves of old menus piled up haphazardly. A man of prodigious stature balanced on a narrow wooden chair in front of it.
‘Mr McCaffrey,’ called out the housekeeper, a
nd he got up as quickly as his figure would allow, absent-mindedly wiping his hands on his apron.
‘What can I do you for?’ he said jovially, then took the smile off his face when he saw Mary’s police uniform.
‘The police are here,’ said Mrs Norris. ‘I’m sure they’re very sorry to interrupt your work but they have some questions about the night the maid died.’
‘I wasn’t here that night,’ said Mr McCaffrey, holding up his hands in innocence. ‘I’ve been taken on since but I’ve heard all about it. They talked of little else in here for months after.’
‘Which girls were working here the night of Elizabeth and Dot’s accident?’ asked Mrs Norris. Louisa saw the back of the girl stirring the pot stiffen, while the two chopping carrots and potatoes dared only to glance quickly up at them.
‘Meg,’ said the cook. ‘Meg, get over here.’
The girl at the stove slowly put down her wooden spoon and came over to them. She seemed to be the same age as Louisa and rather surly-looking.
‘Before we continue,’ said Guy, ‘I wonder if someone might show PC Conlon here the upstairs landing where Elizabeth and Dot stepped on to the skylight?’
Mrs Norris nodded. ‘I’ll take her myself.’
‘Take notes,’ whispered Guy to Mary. ‘It’s always possible I missed something before, like a loose latch on the railing’s gate.’ Mary nodded and followed the housekeeper out.
Stiles turned to Louisa. ‘I’d like you to wait for us. Mr McCaffrey, would you be so kind as to allow Miss Cannon to take a seat in your office while we interview Meg?’
The cook was agreeable and Louisa was sent to sit by the desk, feeling like nothing so much as a dunce sent to the back of the classroom. But she took heart that Guy was close by and would give her the details she needed to hear. She needed to know if she was right.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Guy and Stiles had agreed in advance to conduct this informal stage of the inquiry together. This meant Stiles could be absolved of having investigated formally if it turned out to be nugatory. Equally, if further developments did ensue, Stiles needed to have been present. Guy was conscious of being closely observed by his superior and wanted to make sure he showed the promise of being a good detective inspector. This kind of opportunity did not often present itself.
The three of them positioned themselves at the other end of the kitchen table, away from the gawping vegetable choppers, and waited for Mr McCaffrey to busy himself with another task. Meg stood sullenly before them, her hair tied back neatly under a mob cap, her apron a plain linen smock. She looked like something out of a Shakespeare play, thought Guy.
‘Could you tell us your full name, please?’
‘Margaret Hawkins, but everyone calls me Meg. What is this all about?’
Guy knew this attitude. It was the one where the police were nothing more than interfering busybodies at best, ignorant accusers at worst.
‘Miss Hawkins, we have reason to believe that the death of your friend Miss Martin may not have been entirely accidental. We need to review the events of the evening of the fifteenth of June, 1928.’
Meg shrugged, the best he was going to get as permission to continue. Stiles raised an eyebrow and looked at his watch.
‘Mr McCaffrey wasn’t here but you were, we interviewed you at the time.’
‘Exactly,’ said Meg. ‘I don’t see why we have to go over it all again.’
‘It’s only procedure.’ Guy tried to sound reassuring. ‘In case there was something you didn’t think of then that might have occurred to you later. Can you tell us again who was the cook that night?’
‘Some posh woman was brought in to oversee it all, Lady Boyle? Something like that. She told us all what to do.’ Guy couldn’t be sure but it seemed that her inability to recall the name properly was forced.
Guy noted the name down. It might be important even if he could not see the connection.
‘I know this is asking you to remember something that happened quite a long time ago but can you recall who cooked what that evening?’
‘It was all the usual duties. Each maid has their own job to do, the vegetables or the pastry. I’m assistant cook so I did the main dishes for the dinner earlier, and oversaw the breakfast for the whole party.’ She allowed a note of pride to creep in.
‘To be clear, you and the other maids did all the cooking, Lady Boyle did no actual cooking herself?’
‘No, she just stirred and tasted, told us what to do.’
There was a cough at the other end of the table. The girl chopping the carrots, who, Guy noticed, actually had carrot-coloured hair frizzing out beneath her cap, had put her knife down and was staring at them.
‘Yes?’ Stiles asked.
‘Sorry, sir, I don’t mean to interrupt, it’s just I couldn’t help hearing what you was saying.’
Meg turned her back on the girl and looked at Guy. ‘Don’t listen to her, sir. She’s simple.’
‘I’m not simple!’
Meg spread her hands out as if to say, ‘See?’
Guy walked along the table and gently spoke to her. ‘What was it you wanted to say?’
‘That Lady Boyle sir, she did cook something. She made devils-on-horseback, special like for young Mr Guinness, sir.’
The hairs on the back of Guy’s neck prickled. He trusted that sensation: he knew when something was up.
‘You were working here that night, were you?’
‘Yessir, but I was in the scullery then, washing the pots. No one ever noticed me in there, sir, but I was here. I’ve been here ever since, and I’ve worked my way up to vegetable maid, sir.’
‘Well done,’ said Guy. ‘And you saw Lady Boyle cook something?’
‘Well, sir, yes. There were other trays of devils-on-horseback but she had some that she did separate, they were for Mr Guinness.’
‘Did Mr Guinness eat them?’
‘I don’t know, but Dot did.’
‘Dot Martin, the maid that died?’
‘Yessir. I was in the scullery and I took a break for a minute, and I saw that posh cook put the plate down and then Dot took some off the plate when they walked past. You can pop ’em in your mouth quick, sir, they’re only little things.’
‘Bacon wrapped around prunes, aren’t they?’
The redhead nodded. ‘Meg shouted at them, sir. I remember, it give me a shock too and I got back to work.’
‘Thank you,’ said Guy. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Back outside, Stiles made his excuses – one of his usual long luncheons – and left Guy, Mary and Louisa to review what had happened. As it was a clear day, they decided to walk back to the station together, talking as they went. Mary confirmed that she had found nothing to contradict Guy’s notes or the inquest. The skylight through which the maids had fallen had been adequately cordoned off by railings and a secure gate. Access was required only to clean the opaque glass and this was done, Mrs Norris informed her, by someone leaning over with a long-handled mop. No more than one person at a time ever went on it and it was assumed the weight of both the girls at the same time had caused the glass to break.
‘But it was because their hands slipped on the railing that they fell through, that’s what the other maid said, the one who was watching.’ Mary had read the notes through too.
‘Yes, and that corroborates what Rose told us, though she thought it was more that Dot passed out. The question is: did she eat something that made her dizzy? Something that caused her to lose her grip on the handrail?’ Guy was asking the question but he had decided the answer.
‘Those devils-on-horseback, you mean,’ said Louisa. ‘I saw her take them but I thought nothing of it until we saw Rose.’
‘Yes, it looks as if you were right. Meg and that red-haired maid have corroborated your story of seeing Dot eat some.’
‘What’s more,’ Guy carried on, ‘we know that particular plate was intended solely for Mr Guinness. But
who is this cook Lady Boyle and why would she want to poison Mr Guinness?’
Louisa gave a start. ‘It’s not Lady Boyle, it’s Lady Boyd,’ she said. ‘Luke Meyer’s aunt. They live on Wilton Crescent, the same road that Rose worked on. She must have hired Rose whenever she was taken on as a caterer for the bigger parties.’
Guy looked at her in shock. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, pretty sure. I met her briefly in Venice and thought she looked familiar then but couldn’t remember why. It must have been because I’d seen her in the Grosvenor Place kitchens. She wasn’t there the whole time, you see. The assistant cook was left to prepare the breakfast.’ She paused. ‘There was a footman, sent upstairs with the plate, presumably to find Mr Guinness. Lady Boyd must have instructed him, only the housekeeper spotted it and I was told to fetch him back because it was too early to serve them.’
‘But why would she want to poison Bryan Guinness?’
‘Perhaps it wasn’t personal,’ said Mary.
‘But the plate was destined for him.’ Louisa felt the pieces were not fitting together properly just yet. ‘I think I need to talk to Luke, ask him if his aunt has ever voiced dislike for Mr Guinness.’
‘Agreed,’ said Guy. ‘I want to talk to Meg Hawkins again, too. I think she knew more than she was telling us. It’s possible that Lady Boyd talked to her after the accident, perhaps to prevent her saying anything about that plate.’ Guy pushed his hat back slightly and looked up to the sky. ‘We have to do this right. If Lady Boyd is guilty, we need hard evidence or a confession. We can’t risk her finding out yet that we’re on her case. And we still don’t know her motivation. Without that, we can’t be certain.’
[Mitford Murders 03] - The Mitford Scandal Page 26