Death at Dinner

by L. A. Nisula

  I closed the door as quietly as I could.

  With Mr. Carrollton’s directions, I found the drawing room on the next try. It was a lighter room than the others I’d been in, with painted furniture and a couple of bad copies of still-life flowers by the fireplace. It looked like a man had designed the room to appeal to what he thought a woman would like.

  Mrs. Delford was sitting by the fire, staring into the flames. I brought the tea tray to the spindly table by her chair. It creaked ominously, but it seemed like it would hold the tea service.

  Mrs. Delford heard me place the tray on the table and turned. “Thank you,” she said absently and turned back to the fire. I doubted she saw me there.

  I poured out the tea then held out a cup for Mrs. Delford. “Cream or sugar, ma’am?”

  Mrs. Delford didn’t answer. I held the cup out until I realized she wasn’t going to answer; then I put the cup on the table close to her and poured out a cup for Miss Carrollton, adding three spoons of sugar.

  Miss Carrollton was lying on the settee. Mr. Sharma had propped her feet up with pillows and covered her with a badly worked crochet afghan. Now he was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking hardback chair near her head. He was watching Miss Carrollton but not trying to revive her. I wondered if he knew her fainting had been an act.

  Mr. Sharma turned when I approached his chair. “Tea? I think that will revive her.” He leaned over and dragged a small side table nearer to the settee. I put the cup on the table and turned back to the tray to prepare one for Mr. Sharma, but he shook his head. “I need something stronger after that incident. I’ll get it from Carrollton later.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll leave the tray.”

  I left the drawing room and went down to the kitchen. Or I tried to. I got turned around and ended up in the front hall. Mr. Warland was there, sitting in the telephone cabinet with the receiver in his hand, rattling the cradle.

  Ross peered out from around the closet door, and I wished I’d remembered to empty the mackintosh pockets. He straightened his collar. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Do I want to know why you are in there?”

  “I heard someone coming so I—um—”

  “Never mind.” I hurried through to the kitchen stairs.

  In the kitchen, Mrs. Pomeroy had fixed a large pot of tea for us, and Mrs. Albright was arranging digestive biscuits on a plate. There was no walnut cake in sight.

  “How does it seem up there?” Mrs. Albright whispered.

  I started arranging the sugar pot and cream pitcher so I could whisper back, “Mr. Warland is still trying the police. Mr. Carrollton is sitting with the - with Mr. Ainsworth. The rest are in the drawing room. They seem as well as can be expected.”

  “And Ross?” Mrs. Pomeroy asked as she brought the kettle to the table. Mrs. Albright and I exchanged a guilty glance.

  “I'm here. I'm here.” Ross made down the stairs into the chair at the head of the table.

  Mrs. Pomeroy slammed a cup down in front of him. “I should have fixed a pot of coffee while I was at it.”

  Mrs. Albright ignored Ross's muttering and fixed cups for the rest of us, putting three spoons of sugar in Mrs. Pomeroy’s and none in mine. “Try the biscuits, dear. They’re quite good.”

  I had just settled in with my cup when I heard the front doorbell rattle. Ross shifted to his feet. “I got it. I got it.”

  Mrs. Pomeroy glanced at me. I nodded and followed him upstairs again.

  Chapter 5

  I CAUGHT UP TO ROSS before he reached the front hall, so I was there when he opened the door to admit a man of average height, average build, with brown hair and brown eyes, almost conspicuous in his averageness. He was followed by two constables in uniform.

  The average man held out a small wallet. “I am Inspector Hamilton. Someone summoned the police?”

  Ross stood there, trying to think what he was supposed to do with a policeman in the front hall. I’d dealt with the police before — Mr. Ainsworth was not my first dead body — so I stepped forward and took the wallet from him. It wasn’t a proper wallet, but a leather folder with his warrant card and identification. Everything seemed in order, so I handed it back. “Ross will take your coat and bring you to Mr. Carrollton, this evening’s host.”

  Ross caught on and took the inspector’s coat. I watched him hang it in the closet, but Ross seemed to realize that he should not even look at the mackintosh pocket.

  When I turned back to the policemen, I caught the inspector looking Ross over. He may have even sniffed him. Whatever his analysis was, it caused him to turn and address me. “Then I take it Mr. Carrollton is not the victim?”

  “Correct.”

  “And who is?”

  “One of his guests. Mr. Ainsworth.”

  “Guests?”

  “There was a dinner party in progress.”

  “I see. And where is Mr. Ainsworth? The dining room, I presume?”

  “He was moved to the study.”

  The inspector pursed his lips in a way that told me he was even less fond of moving the body than I had been, but all he said was, “Then the butler, Mr—”

  When Ross didn’t take the hint, I said, “Ross.” Then I realized I didn’t know his first name. I covered by saying, “Mr. Ross is the butler.”

  “Then Mr. Ross, if you would show the constables to the crime scene and the medical examiner to the study when he arrives, I will begin by speaking to Mr. Carrollton.”

  Ross nodded. I stared at the constables until Ross realized the inspector had meant now, then led the inspector up to the drawing room.

  As we climbed the stairs, Inspector Hamilton started asking questions. “It was Mr. Carrollton who called us in?”

  “Not exactly, Mr. Warland placed the call. Another guest.”

  “And why him?”

  “Mr. Carrollton was supervising, I suppose, so he asked Mr. Warland to call and keep trying. The lines were down.”

  “So Mr. Carrollton tried, couldn’t get a call out, and asked Mr. Warland to take over?”

  “No, he asked Mr. Warland to go from the dining room. He came back and told us the lines were down, then Mr. Carrollton asked him to continue trying.”

  “I see.” The inspector wrote something down. Before I could see it, he pointed to the drawing room door. “Is this it?”

  “Yes, sir.” I opened the door. After a moment’s consideration, I stepped through and announced him. “The inspector from Scotland Yard, sir.”

  The inspector came forward and held out his warrant card again. “Inspector Hamilton, sir. Which of you called Scotland Yard?”

  Mr. Carrollton came forward. “That was me, Edgar Carrollton. Mr. Warland by the fireplace there was the one who placed the actual call at my request.”

  “And why did you feel you needed to summon us?”

  “There had been a death. An associate of mine. My solicitor actually. John Ainsworth.”

  “And why did you feel we should be summoned?”

  “Well, he died. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Investigate mysterious deaths?”

  “So he was not ill? There was no obvious cause of death?”

  “That’s right. I mean, there was no obvious cause. He had pills.”

  “Pills? And what were they for?”

  “Mrs. Delford would know.” Mr. Carrollton turned. “What were they for, Lavinia?”

  Inspector Hamilton scanned the faces and landed on Mrs. Delford. “You were in charge of his pills, Mrs. Delford?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And what were they?”

  “For his heart.” She pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Do you have them?”

  “In my handbag.” She realized the inspector wanted the medicine and pulled her purse onto her lap. “I always have them on the top, ready if he needs them. Needed them.” She dug through the bag again. “I just had them.”

  Mr. Carrollton reached into his jacket pocket. �
�Is this it? You left it on the table after he — after the incident.”

  Mrs. Delford looked up and burst into tears again. “Yes, yes. That’s them.”

  Inspector Hamilton held out his hand, and Mr. Carrollton dropped the pillbox into his palm.

  Inspector Hamilton put the box into his pocket. “Now I will need to speak to each of you individually. Is there a room I can use?”

  “The library is private. I’ll have it set up for you.”

  “I would prefer if my men set it up.”

  “If you wish.” Mr. Carrollton looked around and spotted Ross trying to slip into the room unnoticed. “Ross, show him where the library is. Get him what he needs.”

  “Yes, sir.” I watched Ross lead the way into the hallway and stop. The two constables outside the dining room waited while he got his bearings. I looked around the drawing room. Mr. Carrollton was introducing the rest of the guests to Inspector Hamilton. I didn’t think I’d miss anything interesting for the moment, so I slipped out into the hallway.

  Ross caught my eye as soon as he saw me. I nodded and led the way to the library. Ross almost walked past the door, and I had to jerk my head in the direction of the library twice before he caught on. The constables noticed too and stopped by the library door until Ross caught on. “Here we are, gentlemen. The library. All set for—” He opened the door. “Well, it’s a little dusty, but I’m sure—”

  I made for the servants’ staircase before any of them thought to ask me for help cleaning up the dust. Besides, I was still concerned about Mrs. Pomeroy.

  When I returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Pomeroy and Mrs. Albright were clustered by the stove, watching the kettle boil. Mrs. Albright looked up when she heard me on the stairs. “Cassie, we were just making some more tea.”

  “You can never go wrong with tea.”

  “Maybe you can help us with our dilemma then.”

  “If I can.” I was expecting something as earth-shattering as whether we could have Irish breakfast this late at night, so I wasn’t surprised when the burning question was, “Do you think we should serve tea to the policemen?” Mrs. Pomeroy looked at the kettle.

  Mrs. Albright stared at it too. “I’m not sure what the procedure is in a case like this. What do you think, Cassie?”

  I saw an opportunity. “I could bring it up to them if you’d like.”

  Mrs. Pomeroy sighed. “I suppose we ought to, even if they are policemen.”

  Mrs. Albright got more cups from the cupboard. “I suppose it would be a comfort to the guests as they’re being questioned.”

  Mrs. Pomeroy started to refill the sugar bowl. “You’re right, of course. Do you think something sweet—”

  “It would be hard for them to talk and eat,” I pointed out.

  Mrs. Pomeroy arranged the sugar and cream on the tray. “I don’t want to make the questioning take any longer than it has to.”

  Ross came down the kitchen stairs. I suspected the constables had decided they would get on faster without him. He started for the silver teapot. “Maybe they could use some—”

  “Some of them probably could,” Mrs. Pomeroy snapped, “but it’s the last thing anyone needs when being questioned by the police. Especially you.” She pulled the silver teapot away from him. “Go back upstairs and find Mr. Carrollton and stay by him until he gives you orders. That should keep you out of trouble for a little while at least.”

  Ross stared at the teapot, but Mrs. Pomeroy didn’t budge, so he dragged himself back to the staircase.

  Mrs. Pomeroy finished preparing the tea tray and counted the cups one last time. “Do you know where they’ll be?”

  “The library.” I picked up the tray. “I found it by accident before.”

  Mrs. Albright was pouring out tea for the two of them. “I’ll keep an eye on things down here,” she murmured, glancing significantly at Mrs. Pomeroy.

  I nodded and took the tray upstairs.

  Chapter 6

  I HAD NO TROUBLE finding the library again; there was a constable stationed outside the door. He glanced at my tray and let me pass. Inspector Hamilton was already set up inside. The constables had removed the dust sheets and folded them away into a corner and arranged the chairs to make a conversational nook, with the largest armchair for Inspector Hamilton, putting him with his back to the fire, and a small armchair for the person being questioned.

  Miss Carrollton was sitting in the second chair now. She looked better than she had in the drawing room. She was conscious, anyway.

  I could tell Inspector Hamilton was trying to make her comfortable by the way the footstool and pillows had been arrangedr. He looked up when I brought in the tray, but didn’t tell me to leave. “I will try to make this as brief as I can, Miss Carrollton; I realize you are still in shock.”

  She fanned herself with a ledger book she found on the table and inhaled vapor from a bottle of smelling salts. “Very kind of you, I suppose.”

  So that’s why he’d started with her; she was still pretending to be faint. I wondered if the inspector knew it was an act.

  “Perhaps a cup of tea would make you feel better.”

  “Mr. Sharma said the same thing. As if all our problems could be solved by tea.” She sighed dramatically and pressed her hand to her forehead, almost spilling her smelling salts in the process.

  “Nonetheless, Miss, as we have it...”

  I took that as a hint to bring the tray over. Inspector Hamilton pulled a small table over to her chair.

  As soon as I put the tray down, Miss Carrollton reached for the pot and began preparing cups. Inspector Hamilton let her fuss until she seemed absorbed in her task. I stepped back by the door and tried to melt into the wall the way I’d noticed proper maids did. I didn’t think I was fooling Inspector Hamilton, but he was still choosing to ignore me. “Now, Miss Carrollton, how were you acquainted with the dec—with Mr. Ainsworth?”

  “I know he worked for my uncle, but that was all. We’d met at parties like this one. That’s all.”

  “And why were you invited to what appears to be a business dinner?”

  “Mr. Sharma, I think. Uncle wants me to consider an engagement.”

  “And is he a good choice?”

  “He’d be good for Uncle’s business, but he is rather old.”

  I didn’t think he was much over thirty.

  “But then he is rather rich. He lives in Delhi, which is far, but it would be an adventure.”

  “So, on balance?”

  “I was unsure.”

  Now that she was more comfortable, Inspector Hamilton asked, “What did you see?”

  “Well, I fainted—”

  Inspector Hamilton kept watching her quietly until she said, “You’re not believing it, are you? All right. That was for show. I didn’t want them to think I was insensitive. But I still had my eyes closed.”

  “What did you hear then?”

  “He gasped, like this.” She made a gasping, choking sound, nothing like what I’d heard in the dining room. “Then I fainted, or pretended to. Uncle Edgar started giving orders about pills and things. Mr. Sharma asked me if I was all right; that was really what I was listening to. I wanted to see how he would react to me being in trouble. Then Uncle told him to bring us to the drawing room, and Mr. Sharma picked me up — he thought I was still unconscious, of course — and brought me to the drawing room.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual before the — incident?”

  Miss Carrollton poured herself another cup of tea. “I think Ross was a bit tipsy, but that wasn’t unusual for him.”

  “You know Ross, then?”

  “He used to be the butler here; then he retired, or so Uncle said. I think he just wanted to be rid of him and pensioned him off.”

  “Anything else you remember?”

  “I’m afraid not. The dinner was quite nice. Mr. Sharma was being charming. Mr. Warland was being a little pushy, and then Mr. Ainsworth collapsed.”

  Inspector Hamilton waite
d a few moments, ostensibly to let her finish her tea, but I suspected he was waiting to see what else she’d remember.

  When she didn’t say anything more, he turned to the door. “Constable? Is there another empty room on the floor?”

  The constable poked his head into the room. “The study, sir.”

  My head snapped up. The study wasn’t exactly empty, not with a body being stored there.

  “Has it — been prepared?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s all ready.”

  “Then please bring Miss Carrollton there and stay with her until I summon you.”

  “Yes, sir.” He stood in the doorway, waiting.

  Apparently Miss Carrollton had also remembered what the study had been used for. “Can’t I just go back to the drawing room?”

  “I’m afraid I have to separate those I’ve questioned from those I haven’t. Procedure.”

  “But the study...”

  “Constable Fulton will wait with you. It won’t be very long. Take some tea along.” He was being very nice, but there was no arguing with him. “Constable Fulton, show Mrs. Delford in, then take Miss Carrollton to the study.”

  Miss Carrollton left her teacup and followed Constable Fulton out of the library.

  When Miss Carrollton left the room, I gathered up her cup and saucer and replaced them with clean ones, then melted back into the shadows.

  Inspector Hamilton went to the door and admitted Mrs. Delford. He did not ask me to leave.

  Mrs. Delford looked around the room as she entered, but I didn’t think she really saw anything. Inspector Hamilton gestured to the chair by the fire. Mrs. Delford sank into it and dabbed at her face with her handkerchief. Inspector Hamilton looked her over, then went to the table and prepared a cup of tea for her with two spoons of sugar. He gave her a chance to drink her tea, then sat across from her. “I just have a few questions for you.”

  “Of course. Forgive me, please. It was such a shock.”

  “You were close to him?”

  “Not in that way. He was a friend of my late husband and his business partner. We all worked together for many years. In some ways, it’s like losing Mr. Delford again.”