Arsenic at Ascot, page 16
“I thought we had done with the police last night.” Lady Sybil threw her napkin on the table and stood up. “The local constable is a friend of my father’s. He assured us there would be no scandal.”
“May I come with you?” I pushed out my chair.
“Please do.” She sighed. “Such a troublesome business. I could use the moral support.”
“Of course.” I gave her a supportive smile and then followed Hastings to the library. On the way, I steeled myself to see Fredricks pretending to be DI Baker Evans. I hope I can keep a straight face.
The library was dimly lit. A mahogany desk sat in the center of the room. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows. Two walls held floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stocked with leatherbound books. Sofas and chairs were arranged around a fireplace at the far end of the room. I saw the back of Fredricks’s head, his thick ebony curls a dead giveaway. With him was another person, much smaller than he. A woman with golden hair pulled back into a messy chignon. Whoever could she be? How did the rascal produce a partner out of thin air? More to the point, I thought I was to be his partner.
Good grief. Dressed in dark tweeds rather than jodhpurs, Fredricks had a freshly bruised eye and split lip. Sitting next to him was none other than Miss Kitty Lane, her frilly pink dress drooling lace where it was torn, and her hair a mess. “Hello, Aunt Tabitha.” The girl didn’t miss a beat. What’s she doing here?
“What in the world happened to you two?” I set to work tucking stray hairs back into Kitty’s chignon.
Fredricks gave me a sheepish grin. “Ask your niece.”
“Chasing naughty Poppy, I ran headlong into the inspector.” She kissed the furry creature’s topknot. “Didn’t I, Poppy-poo?”
Footlong, more like. By the looks of Fredricks’s face, it had been the recipient of Kitty’s boot. She was an experienced foot-fighter. Content with causing him pain, at least she didn’t want to kill the man. How did he persuade her to go along with his ruse? And why was she here? Had Captain Hall sent her to babysit me, too? She might be a trained operative, but I was seven years her senior. She was only an eighteen-year-old girl, for heaven’s sake.
“Detective Inspector, what can we do for you?” Lady Sybil asked. “I thought our constable took care of everything last night. He determined Dr. Vorknoy died of natural causes.”
“Horsefeathers.” Crikey. Did I just say that out loud? This was the first I’d heard that it had been officially declared natural causes. And I didn’t believe it for a second. First, there was the garlic-smelling foam around his mouth. Second, the strange string attached to his wrist. Third, the bit of fabric attached to the trellis. Not to mention a jealous wife, a mournful mistress, a livid patient, a suspicious chimp hawker, and a couple of animal activists who’d just as soon see the doctor cut open himself than any of his animal subjects.
“At Scotland Yard, our motto is nullus lapis intentatum.” Fredricks dabbed at his cut lip with a handkerchief.
“No stone unturned,” Kitty echoed. “What the inspector means is we need to interview the household to make sure we’ve done our due diligence.” She adjusted Poppy’s pink gingham bow, which matched her own pink dress perfectly.
“And you are?” Lady Sybil asked.
“Oh, this is my niece,” I intercepted our hostess. “Katherine.”
“Your niece?” Lady Sybil scowled. “Do you always travel with an entourage?”
It was a fair question.
“Everyone calls me Kitty.” The girl held up Poppy’s paws and danced the dog around on her lap. “Right, Poppy-poo?” She giggled and cooed. Was she a silly girl undercover as a sensible one or a sensible girl undercover as a silly one? I never could tell.
Fredricks looked every bit Scotland Yard.
With her ripped ruffles and dancing creature, Kitty was another story. In her case, looks were deceiving. She could test carpet fibers and dust fingerprints with the best of them. Speaking of which, back in my room, I had some nice samples folded in white paper and that bit of fabric in the pocket of my robe.
“Kitty dear.” I went around the back of the sofa and put my hand on her shoulder. “Could you come help me for a minute?”
She looked from Fredricks to me and back again.
“It won’t take long.” She was right to worry. Fredricks had a way of disappearing. “Inspector, I would be happy to show you to the scene of the crime.”
“Crime!” Lady Sybil dropped into an overstuffed chair. “Crime,” she repeated, this time through her teeth. “The only crime is that my house party has been ruined.”
“Indeed.” I forced a smile. “It was jolly rude of the doctor to die in your guestroom.”
She rang for the butler. “Hastings, bring us some coffee… with brandy.”
“If you’ll excuse us.” I nodded to Kitty. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Rather than acknowledge me, Kitty cuddled Poppy and cooed. But at least she stood up and lifted her small suitcase off the floor.
“Inspector.” My voice was firm.
Fredricks twisted around to face me. “Yes, milady.”
“Come along and I’ll show you the… er, where the doctor died.”
“Perhaps I can join you after coffee?” He tilted his head and winked at me.
I narrowed my brows. “Now.” My tone was demanding. But I resisted the temptation to stomp my foot. “We can join Lady Sybil for coffee later.” No doubt he was more interested in the brandy than the coffee.
Fredricks let out a loud sigh but got up off the sofa.
“Hold the coffee.” Lady Sybil waved, calling after Hastings, “Bring the brandy.”
19
THE USUAL SUSPECTS
Once I’d herded Kitty and Fredricks into my room, I shut the door—perhaps with a tiny bit too much force. Fredricks sat at the dressing table and used the mirror to examine the damage to his eye and upper lip.
“What happened?” I pointed from Fredricks’s black eye to Kitty’s torn frock. “Spill it.”
“I caught him lurking around outside in the bushes.” Kitty shrugged as she put Poppy on my bed. Really. Did the creature need to soil my bed?
“And I got a full-booted kiss.” Fredricks dabbed at his lip with a handkerchief. “But that you already knew.”
“He’s a German spy and a criminal.” Kitty didn’t mince words.
“Yes, well. Right now, we need to work together to find Dr. Vorknoy’s killer.” I went to fetch my carpet samples from my dressing table.
“Why?” Kitty trailed me across the room. Poppy jumped off the bed and followed her. “Why do we need to work together?”
“By some miracle, Fredricks has convinced Lady Sybil he’s from Scotland Yard.”
“No miracle.” Fredricks tucked his handkerchief into a jacket pocket. “Skill and talent.” He stood up and went to the window.
Kitty scoffed, and with one violent gesture, ripped off the torn lace from her frock. Her mistress’s force agitated Poppy and the little dog grabbed one of my slippers and ran.
“Everyone, calm down.” I held up a finger. “As Lady Tabitha and her niece, we are in no position to investigate on our own. We need him.”
“We’re in a better position than a known German spy wanted for murder in at least three countries.” Kitty flopped onto my bed. With my slipper still in her mouth, Poppy jumped up after her.
“True.” I tried to ignore the dirty dog paws prancing around atop my bedspread and rescued my slobbery slipper. “Having Fredricks lead a murder investigation is like asking a poacher to serve as game warden, but in this case, he’s our best bet.”
“Thank you, ma chérie.” Fredricks leaned against the window ledge.
“First things first.” I unfolded the paper and flattened it out on the dressing table, exposing the carpet sample. “Why are you both here?” I retrieved the bit of green fabric from my robe pocket and laid it next to the carpet sample.
Silence.
“You first, Fredricks,” I said, dropping onto the table the segment of rope I’d found in the bushes.
“I told you earlier.” He grinned. “I missed you.”
“Poppycock.” I arranged my evidence neatly on the dressing table. “What is your real reason for being here?”
He sighed. “Thanks to you, I’ve forsaken violence in favor of persuasion.” He removed his deerstalker and sat it next to him on the ledge. “The Animal Defense Society is one of the most powerful pacificist organizations in Britain. Like you, I’m here to encourage and support them.”
Kitty laughed. “The poacher playing game warden indeed.” She had a point. Fredrick Fredricks was famous for his hunting prowess, as Clifford so often reminded us with his long-winded safari tales.
“The great South African hunter has forsaken violence?” I raised an eyebrow. “Or just inconvenient violence?”
“Let’s not nitpick, shall we?” Fredricks came over to examine the evidence. “Instead, let’s put our heads together to find the good doctor’s killer.”
“Why do you care who killed the doctor?” Kitty asked.
“The same reason you do, if you do.” He fingered the bit of fabric “As Mr. Lenin would say, peace, bread, land… and of course, justice.”
“Justice,” I repeated. More than justice, I had a hunch the doctor’s death was related to the mole undermining the military animal operations. Yes, his death could have been from natural causes. Or it could have been the result of a homicidal guest, even a crime of passion. But I suspected it had something to do with Porton Down and his monkey gland research. Dr. Vorknoy was trying to create a stronger soldier and a stronger horse. Someone wanted to stop him. Someone connected to the Animal Defense Society, perhaps? The mole-saboteur? Or a known German spy? I leveled my gaze at Fredricks.
He blew me a kiss.
“What about you, Kitty?” I glanced from her to Fredricks. Quite possibly she couldn’t tell me why she was here, not in front of Fredricks. No doubt Captain Hall had sent her. She might have important information for me from the War Office. Information about Fredricks.
“We missed you.” She smiled sweetly. “Didn’t we, Poppy-poo?”
“Horsefeathers. I’ve seen Poppy every day.” I went over and patted the little beast on the head. “Haven’t I, Poppy-poo?” The creature licked my hand. I promptly removed a handkerchief from my skirt pocket and wiped it off. “Uncle Clifford insisted on bringing her wherever he went, including into the Old Admiralty.”
“Heavens.” She giggled. “I bet old sourpuss Montgomery didn’t like that!”
“He certainly wouldn’t like you calling him sourpuss.” After I got rid of Fredricks, I would find out why Kitty was here. For now, he was right. We should put our heads together and catch the killer. “Regard the evidence.” I swept my hand over the articles I’d placed on the table. “Fibers for you to test, Kitty dear.”
With a dramatic sigh, she slipped off the bed and came to look at the fibers. “What sort of tests did you have in mind?”
“The fibers absorbed the victim’s saliva, and you should test them for poison.”
“You think he was poisoned?” Her countenance brightened. Nothing like a few forensic tests to lift her spirits.
“I don’t think he died from Bright’s disease.” I stood arms akimbo. “His person smelled distinctly like burnt garlic.”
“Burnt garlic,” she repeated. “Suggests arsenic.”
I snatched the fabric away from Fredricks. “Our killer left this on the trellis outside the victim’s room. Keep an eye out for a torn garment of the same material.” I returned the fabric to the dressing table and picked up the rope. “I found this in the bushes below the victim’s window.”
“A piece of rope.” Kitty took it from me and examined it. “Looped at one end for hanging on a hook.”
“Indeed.” I slid my notebook and pencil out of my skirt pocket, sat down in the dressing table chair, and made a note: find hook. “Now, who had a reason to kill the doctor?” My pencil hovered over a clean page. “His wife, Oksana, and his mistress, Dorothy.” I jotted their names at the top of my list.
“Busy man.” Fredricks chuckled.
“Cheating husbands are no joke.” I glared at him. And I should know.
Using my magnifying glass, Kitty examined the carpet fibers.
“Lizzy Lind and Nina, Duchess of Hamilton.” I wrote their names in my book. They were adamant about their cause. But would they kill a man to save an animal? “Who else?”
Henry Hobbs had an alibi, which had yet to be confirmed, of course. Who else at Porton Down may have wanted the doctor dead? The exotic animal hunter, Mr. Jäger, looked the part of a killer. And he had been yelling and threatening the doctor over missed payments. Would he kill for an outstanding debt? Private Birdwhistle didn’t seem the murdering sort. And yet he had been arrested for striking Mr. Jäger, and the duchess had revealed that the boy was out of jail, and thus available for murder. Wordlessly, I wrote their names in my book. I didn’t want to tell Fredricks any more than he already knew about my mission at Porton Down. There, Rear Admiral Arbuthnot could do the investigating.
“What was the name of that patient of his? The unhappy chap here last night?”
My questions were met with blank stares from both Fredricks and Kitty. Right. Neither of them had been here then. I’d have to ask Clifford when he returned from hunting. “Should we start by questioning the ladies?” I closed my notebook.
“Why not?” Fredricks grabbed his hat off the window ledge. “Ladies first.”
“I’ll stay and test the fibers.” Kitty sat her suitcase on the bed and then opened it. Instead of frocks and evening slippers, it contained various colored bottles and an assortment of forensic instruments. “And when you return, we should have a chat.” She turned from me to Fredricks and her eyes shot daggers. “In private.”
“Excellent idea,” I said, stepping out into the hall with Fredricks in tow.
When we entered the foyer, I heard voices coming from the morning room. Lady Sybil, Lizzy Lind, and Nina were sitting around the hunting hounds jigsaw. But instead of concentrating on the puzzle, they sipped brandies.
Fredricks doffed his hat. “Good morning, ladies.” He gave a little bow.
“Good morning, Detective Inspector Baker Evans.” Lizzy looked up from her brandy snifter and smiled at him. How in heaven’s name did she know him as Detective Inspector Baker Evans? How long had he been running around London posing as a detective inspector from Scotland Yard?
“We’re so glad you’re here.” Nina got up, went to his side, and took his arm. “Isn’t it ghastly about Dr. Vorknoy? Dying like that in the middle of a house party.”
Fredricks and I exchanged glances.
“Quite.” He patted her hand.
Women were always fawning over Fredricks. I never understood why. He did have a pleasing face, and gorgeous ebony locks, and a nearly perfect physique. Suddenly, the room was too warm. I fanned myself with my notebook. “Do either of you know why someone might have wanted to harm the doctor?” I asked, pencil in hand.
“Do you have all day?” Lizzy Lind arched her brows.
“Ohhh.” Lady Sybil put a hand to her forehead. “Not this again.”
“Apologies, milady,” Fredricks said, rushing to her side. “Are you quite alright? Do you need another brandy? Or a whiskey, perhaps?”
She looked up at him and nodded.
He left in search of whiskey.
“What do you mean, Lizzy?” I asked encouragingly.
“Not to speak ill of the dead, but he was a despicable man.” She shook her head. “What he did to those poor chimpanzees.”
“And the horses,” Nina added.
The horses. Again, I remembered the conversation I’d overheard between the groom and the jockey. Neither of them was keen to have Dr. Vorknoy operating on Champion. Would they have killed to stop him? I made a mental note to question them both.
“I heard a crash when the doctor fell out of bed.” I observed their expressions.
“How terrible,” Lizzy said.
“When he died, he fell out of bed, taking the lamp with him.”
Nina gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
“That was just before midnight.”
“Midnight,” Lady Sybil repeated.
“Should we all account for our whereabouts between the time we left the drawing room last night and midnight?” I looked from one to the next. “Lord Kentworthy and I were in our room when we heard the crash next door. What about you?”
“You can’t think that we had anything to do with—” Lady Sybil gasped. “Really, Lady Tabitha, you go too far.”
“My apologies, Lady Sybil, but surely you don’t want a murderer loose on your estate.” I put my pencil to paper, waiting.
“We were in our room chatting,” Lizzy said.
Nina nodded. “Yes, we were in our room.”
“You’re sharing a room?” I asked.
They both nodded. Of course, they could be lying.
“We asked for cocoa to be brought up and that lovely kitchen maid, what was her name? Cara. She brought it up.” Nina looked to Lizzy. “What time was that?”
Lizzy looked at her watch, as if it could tell her the answer. “Around half past eleven.”
I planned to track down this Cara and confirm their alibis. Although I was tempted to cross them off my list because I liked them, my predisposition to trust them was all the more reason for due diligence. I couldn’t allow myself to be taken in by their graceful charms and kindness toward me.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Hastings the butler entered the morning room. “Some men from the War Office are here to collect the horses.”
“Oh dear.” Lady Sybil’s cheeks paled. “Father will be beside himself.”
Fredricks returned with a glass of whiskey. He handed it to Lady Sybil, who drank it down and then fell into a coughing fit. “Would you like another?” Fredricks asked.
Still coughing, Lady Sybil shook her head. “No. I have to show the War Office gentlemen to the horses.” Tears filled her eyes. Wringing her hands, she stood up and went to the window. “Hasn’t this horrible war taken enough from us already?”
