An Old Money Murder in Mayfair Read online

  “That would be out of bounds, but knowing Gigi, she probably wouldn’t take offense.”

  I had to smile. “I’m sure you’re right. She told Inspector Thorn she was asleep all morning.”

  “But she had tea with the dowager.”

  “Yes, she did. If only we knew when the dowager was given the arsenic. That could narrow it down considerably.”

  “It shouldn’t be hard to work it out,” Jasper said. “It seems there’s always an article in the newspapers about some frightful case of arsenic poisoning. We could probably work out the details on timing from those other cases.”

  “I don’t mean any disrespect to Essie and her colleagues, but the newspaper accounts are usually quite sensationalized. I’m sure a good textbook will lay out the information.” I reached for my gloves, which were under my handbag in my lap, and I worked them onto my fingers. “We need a library.”

  “An even better idea.” Jasper signaled for the waitress.

  We decided the day was too lovely to take a taxicab to the British Museum, which also housed the British Library. We paced along silently, my hand tucked around Jasper’s elbow as the sun warmed our shoulders. Jasper was an agreeable sort, and I didn’t feel the need to contrive a conversation about the fine weather or the latest party. I mulled over what Jasper had said about Gigi. As the colonnaded entry to the British Museum came into view, I said, “No matter what we find out about how long it takes arsenic to work, I don’t believe Gigi did it.”

  “Why?” Jasper inquired in an academic manner.

  “Because Gigi is all about action, and she’s not afraid of confrontation. She wasn’t fond of her grandmother. She’s the first to admit that, but Gigi was the one who asked me to look into the dowager’s worries.”

  “Perhaps it was a double bluff.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Gigi’s not that devious. She didn’t like having her grandmother living in the townhouse with her, but she didn’t hide those feelings. I can see Gigi committing a crime of passion, something involving a knife or a gun. But not poison.”

  We climbed the shallow stone steps to the entrance. “Arsenic does require a certain amount of forethought,” Jasper said. “Although, with arsenic being tasteless and odorless, only minimal planning would be required.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “From all those sensationalized newspaper articles.” He shot me a grin as we stepped from the bright sunlight into the hushed entry and made our way to the library. “We’ll find out soon enough if that bit of information was reported correctly.”

  We found a librarian, and I said, “Directions to the section on poisons, please.”

  The librarian was so startled he nearly dropped the books he was carrying. Once he’d settled them firmly into the crook of his arm, he looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my short hair with what I thought was disapproval. “And why would you need that information, young lady?”

  Jasper stepped forward. “Research. My companion and I are involved in a study of venoms, toxins, and contaminates for a paper for the Society of Citizen Knowledge. Perhaps you’ve heard of us, SOCK?”

  “Er—no.”

  “Oh, in that case, let me tell you about our organization—”

  The librarian held up a hand. “I’m afraid I don’t have time.”

  “Perhaps the location of the medical texts would be most appropriate?”

  The librarian looked from me to Jasper. “Well, I suppose that’s all right . . .”

  After the librarian left us and we were seated in the soaring rotunda of the Reading Room, I whispered, “SOCK?”

  “Well, we are citizens and we’re seeking knowledge, are we not?”

  Someone a few tables over scowled at us, and we went back to our textbooks. The only noise was the rustle of pages turning and my huffy breathing as I tried to smother my yawns.

  After a quarter of an hour, Jasper, his attention on the book he was flipping through, said, “Really, Olive, you’re about to put me to sleep. I feel positively like Rip Van Winkle.”

  “Sorry. I’m not like Gigi. I’m not used to dancing until dawn.” I’d lost count of how many hours I’d gone without sleep. The brisk walk in the sunlight had been wonderful, but now that we were seated in the quiet, still room, my eyelids felt as if they were weighted down.

  The dense text on the page blurred. I blinked and rolled my shoulders, then ran my finger down the book’s table of contents. “Nothing specific about arsenic here,” I whispered and reached for the next tome.

  I was skimming the index when Jasper murmured, “Here it is. Symptoms begin to appear within twenty to forty minutes after ingestion in the case of acute arsenic poisoning.”

  The words were chilling. Barely half an hour and the body began to react. “Dowd said the dowager ate hardly any dinner. Of course we only have Dowd’s word for that. But both Dowd and Clara said the dowager didn’t feel well earlier in the day, that she had indigestion.”

  “So this information isn’t conclusive.”

  “And if anything, it’s a strike against Gigi. If the dowager barely touched her dinner tray, then the last food she had was during tea. And she didn’t come down to dinner, so she must not have felt well after tea.”

  “But as you said earlier, Clara was there in the drawing room,” Jasper said, then added, “And Felix and the maids were in the house.”

  I closed the thick book and stacked it on the others, feeling as if I’d moved a step back. I’d hoped the information would put Gigi in the clear, but it had only made her seem a more likely suspect. “I should get back, but thank you for tea and the trip to the library. That’s always an enjoyable afternoon for me—even if the answers we found are rather disheartening.”

  “It’s always a pleasure to spend time with you,” Jasper said, his gaze lingering on me.

  I focused on straightening the stack of books. “I feel the same,” I said, but Jasper didn’t hear because a man passing our table dropped a book and Jasper reached over to pick it up for him.

  Jasper insisted on a taxi ride back to Alton House. “I’ll drop you and carry on from there. It’s on my way.”

  I didn’t argue. I was glad for the ride, but once we were in the taxi with the sun streaming in, creating a cozy cocoon, my eyelids drooped. With the monotonous rumble of the engine and the slight rocking of the taxicab, I again had to smother several yawns.

  One moment I was sitting in the warmth of the taxi with my shoulder pressed up against Jasper’s, and the next Jasper was whispering my name.

  My face rested against the wool of his coat, and I realized Jasper’s arm was around me. I was nestled into his shoulder and, when I looked up, his face was inches from mine. “We’re back.” His words were barely spoken, only audible to me.

  “You said you’re going on, sir?”

  The loud question from the driver jarred me back to reality. What was I doing curled up against Jasper’s chest? It was completely inappropriate—wonderful, but inappropriate. I pushed away and felt cold. “Thank you for the ride. And the lovely tea at Gunter’s—um—well, good afternoon.” I scrambled out of the motor before Jasper could come around to open my door.

  Throughout the afternoon and dinner that evening, I couldn’t quite get the look on Jasper’s face—and the feel of his solid chest under my hand as I pushed away—out of my mind.

  Jasper was particular about his appearance and didn’t go out of his way to exert himself in any physical pursuits. He wasn’t one to box or take sword fighting lessons. I knew some of the girls thought he was a bit effete, but his chest! It had been so muscled and—well, masculine.

  A blush flowed into my cheeks, and I slathered on cold cream. I was seated at the dressing table in my nightgown while Stella moved around the room, putting away my clothes. I’d expected to find Thorn had returned to interview me that afternoon, but he hadn’t appeared. Tea and dinner had been stilted affairs, and no one had lingered in the drawing room. We were all gla
d to escape to our rooms as soon as was acceptable.

  I noticed Stella’s movements around the room had stopped. As I wiped the cold cream away, I checked the mirror’s reflection, looking for her, thinking she might have slipped out while I was preoccupied. But she was standing motionless in front of the wardrobe, my slip in one hand and a single shoe in the other.

  I picked up my hairbrush. “Stella, is everything all right?”

  She started and put the shoe away. “Yes, miss.” She folded the slip, then shook it out and refolded it. “Will the inspector come again, miss?”

  “I’m sure he will.” I’d been so focused on my own internal turmoil that I hadn’t paid any attention to Stella, but now I realized that she wasn’t her usual chatty self. I turned on the stool to face her. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh—no reason.” She smoothed the silk into a neat square and quickly put it away. “Will that be all?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Stella.”

  She nodded and left. I let Mr. Quigley out of his cage. After poking about on the dressing table between the pots of cosmetics and my powder puff, he flittered up to perch on the top of the mirror. I brushed my hair, trying to work out if Stella was worried or merely preoccupied. I couldn’t decide. I put down the brush and moved to the writing desk, where I took out several sheets of paper and set to work, noting down everything that had happened. I was tired, but I was afraid that if I didn’t get all my thoughts and impressions down on paper, I’d forget something that might be vitally important.

  Mr. Quigley let out a few squawks, then swooped over to join me at the desk. He marched back and forth over my paper and squawked while I scribbled.

  I’d just begun writing when a maid brought me a letter on a salver. She eyed Mr. Quigley as she crossed the room. “He’s very friendly,” I said when she finally inched near enough for me to take the note.

  “Yes, miss. Will that be all?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She took a few steps backward, then scurried away.

  I could tell at a glance from the handwriting on the envelope that the letter wasn’t from Jasper. I tugged the thick paper out of the envelope as Mr. Quigley whistled. “It’s from Sebastian,” I said to him. “And I’m not disappointed in the least that it’s not from Jasper.” Mr. Quigley twisted his head to the side. “Not at all,” I repeated.

  Sebastian had a free morning the day after next and could meet me at a possible flat that was for lease if it was convenient for me. For a moment, I couldn’t think what he meant. Oh, yes. The flat he’d mentioned when we were at Grafton Galleries. The flat that there would be no possibility of me affording. But it would be churlish to send an excuse at this point. I should have written to him and declined the offer, but since I hadn’t done that, I’d just have to find some reason it wouldn’t work. “Perhaps they don’t allow parrots.”

  Mr. Quigley flared his wings, sending some of my papers floating to the floor.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you behind. In fact, you may be just the excuse I need.”

  Mr. Quigley seemed mollified and wafted up to the ceiling. Then he nosedived down to his cage, where he performed a tight swoop and zoomed through the open door.

  “Now you’re just showing off,” I said as he drank from his water bowl. I closed the cage door and draped the cloth over it, then went back to the desk. I picked up my pen and returned to my notes. Three-quarters of an hour later, I’d finished and had slipped the pages into the drawer when there was a tap at my door. I thought it might be Addie, but when I opened the door, I found Clara.

  “So sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but I saw the light coming from under your door.” She wore a threadbare flannel dressing gown, and her weight was on her back foot as if she was ready to turn away.

  “It’s fine.” I opened the door wider. “Come in.”

  “Oh, no. I won’t stay, I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen a cameo brooch. It’s small.” She held up her thumb and index finger about an inch apart. “I can’t seem to find it. The clasp on the back is loose, and I’m afraid it must have fallen off. I just noticed it’s missing, and I’ve worked out that the last time I wore it was the day you arrived. Gigi asked me to make sure your room was prepared, and I wondered if it fell off in there. I’ve looked everywhere else I was that day.”

  “I haven’t seen it, but you must come in and check that it isn’t here.”

  “Well, if you’re sure. I don’t like to bother you, but it belonged to my grandmother.”

  “It’s no problem at all. Let’s have a look around.”

  Clara seemed reluctant to actually enter my room. I threw the door open all the way and began lifting the hem of the drapes. She followed me in, and we searched everywhere. Clara even got on her knees and peered under the bed and the wardrobe. As she pushed herself to her feet, she said, “Well, that was a fruitless endeavor, but I do feel better for having looked.”

  “I’m sorry we didn’t find it. I hope it turns up. If I happen to come across it, I’ll bring it to you.”

  She thanked me again and slipped out, closing the door soundlessly behind her. It was only after I closed the door and crawled into bed that I realized I should have asked her about the dowager’s fears. I blamed my sleepy state on not being quick enough to recognize what a prime opportunity it would have been to chat with her. Clara had been in the dowager’s company frequently. Had the dowager mentioned her worries to Clara? I’d have to ask her in the morning.

  I drew the crispy sheets up to my chin. I think I slept moments after I settled my head on the feather pillow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Good morning,” I said to Clara when I arrived in the breakfast room. Elrick was checking the dishes on the sideboard. He replaced the coffee and departed with the empty pot. I filled my plate with eggs, toast, and sausage and took a seat across the table from Clara. “Has your cameo turned up?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” She put her napkin beside her plate and closed a book of poems that lay beside her place setting.

  I buttered my toast. I would have rather engaged in small talk and gradually worked my way up to asking her my question about the dowager, but Clara was about to leave the table, and Elrick was out of the room at the moment as well. “Clara, may I ask you a question?”

  Clara had pushed her chair back but didn’t stand. “Yes, of course.”

  “It’s a bit odd, but I think you might be able to help me. You were in the dowager’s company quite a bit. Did she ever talk to you about being frightened?”

  “No, never.”

  “You sound completely surprised by my question.”

  “Well, yes. The dowager wasn’t the sort to be afraid of—well, anything. It was the other way around. People were afraid of her. But in any case, even if she had been afraid, she wouldn’t have confided in me.” She paused, but when I didn’t elaborate, she picked up her book. “Was there anything else?”

  “No. I just wondered if she’d mentioned it.”

  “Not to me.”

  Clara left, and I ate my breakfast while glancing through the newspapers. The dowager’s death was prominent in all the editions. I knew she would have hated the publicity. After all, a lady’s name should only appear in the papers twice—once when she married and again when she died.

  I was pouring myself a second cup of coffee when Gigi appeared. She had purple smudges under her eyes and moved like a sleepwalker to the buffet. “I didn’t expect to see you down so early this morning,” I said.

  “Felix and I have funeral arrangements to make. I received word from Inspector Thorn that it can move ahead. The funeral will be tomorrow, and the inquest will also be held that day.”

  “Goodness. I hadn’t expected it to be so soon.”

  “The funeral?”

  “That, and the inquest as well.”

  “Granny left very specific instructions about her funeral. Most of the arrangements have been made. Felix and I only need to execute her
plan. She stipulated that her funeral is to be held as soon as possible, and then her will is to be read directly after. Of course, she wasn’t one to fritter away time during her life. It’s perfectly in keeping with her personality to want to move things along, even from the grave.”

  “I’ll be happy to help in any way that I can.”

  “That’s kind of you. Your penmanship is so much better than mine. Perhaps you could help me write out the lists I’ll need.”

  “Of course.”

  “As for the inquest”—Gigi took a long sip of her coffee—“I do believe the police want to wrap up the investigation as quickly as possible. Apparently, it’s drawn attention in the press, and the sooner it’s settled, the better—for the police, anyway.”

  Felix leaned around the doorframe. “Ready, old girl? I breakfasted in my room so I could get a few pages done this morning. I’ll be in the morning room whenever you’re ready.” He disappeared.

  “He is serious about completing the draft of his play,” Gigi said and shook her head. “I can’t imagine being that bright and lively so early.” She topped off her coffee. “I suppose I might as well get to it.”

  “You’re not going to eat?”

  Gigi turned away from the chafing dishes. “A cup of coffee and a cigarette is breakfast enough for me.”

  I went with Gigi to the morning room. An hour later, I was writing out a list of items she needed to accomplish before the funeral. Across the round table from me, Gigi and Felix had just made the final decision on the flowers.

  I put down my pen and flexed my fingers. “Felix, did the dowager ever mention being afraid or worried to you?”

  “Granny, frightened?” He laughed. Then he broke off, his face perplexed. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes,” Gigi said. “She was scared.”

  Felix looked at Gigi as if she’d suddenly burst into opera.

  “Did she say anything to you along those lines?” Gigi asked. “Did she confide in you as well?”

  “Not bl—um,”—Felix shifted in his seat—“I mean, not likely. The only conversations I had with Granny involved my deficiencies.”