Serafina turned to Dora. “It’s not my birthday, Dora.”
“I know that, but it’s something I think you need to read. I think you’ll enjoy it.” She bent over and picked up a small package and handed it to Serafina.
“Did you get me a present too?” David piped up.
“Not this time, but I’ll get you something nice if you’re a good boy today.”
Serafina carefully untied the blue ribbon that held the cream-coloured paper and stared at the small book with the rather garish cover. “Why . . . this is a novel, Dora. You know I never read novels.”
“I know you don’t, but you should read this one.”Dora’s face glowed as she said, “It’s a detective story by Regis Stoneman. The heroine is a woman, and she’s very smart, just like you are.”
Serafina read the title aloud: “The Mermaid in the Basement.What a strange title—very fanciful.”
“Everybody is reading Mr. Stoneman’s novels,” Dora said, her eyes glowing with excitement. “I’ve read all six of the novels in this series. The heroine is named Sabrina Diamond.”
“Nobody would name a child that,” Serafina murmured as she opened the book and read a few lines. “Why, this is a romance novel, Dora!”
“Yes, it is.” Dora nodded. “She’s a romantic detective. I—I thought you’d like a little romance in your life, Serafina.”
Serafina gave Dora a hug and laughed. “I promise to read it—even if it does have a nonsensical title. Thank you, Dora. It was very sweet of you to try to put some romance in an old woman’s life.”
“You’re not old!” David said. “And I like the title. I want you to read it to me,Mum.”
Alberta listened as Serafina explained why some books shouldn’t be read to very young boys, and then said, “I wonder where Clive is.”
She was dressed rather formally for breakfast, wearing a teal green dress trimmed with turquoise. It was expensive, as were all her clothes.
The huge skirt swept around her as she moved across the room to the sideboard.
“I think he’s sleeping late this morning, Mother,” Serafina said.
“I’ll go wake him up,” David said.
“No, Son, he’ll get up when he gets ready.”
“He must have gotten in late last night,” Septimus said. He was sitting at the end of the table, reading a book as usual. “I wish he wouldn’t stay out so late.”
As Serafina went to the sideboard, she noted the family’s dining room with approval. It was not large but extremely elegant, with warm yellow paper, a golden wood floor, and heavy mahogany furniture. There were tawny bronze chrysanthemums in a vase over the sideboard, and she surveyed the breakfast that Nessa had prepared with satisfaction. She wondered if Clive was taking it all for granted. He had never faced any real difficulties in life, so perhaps he did not understand the value of what he had.
“Well, we’re not going to starve to death at least.” The sideboard was crowded with chafing dishes of kedgeree, deviled kidneys, scrambled eggs, poached eggs, bacon, sausages, smoked finnan haddock, kippers, and grilled mushrooms. She chose several items for David and returned to the table. “I don’t want anything but the deviled eggs,”David protested. “I don’t want the rest of this.”
“You need to eat some of all of it,” Serafina nodded. “Now be a good boy.” She went back, selected her own food, then sat down. Dora began speaking of a ball that she was going to, and Serafina studied her younger sister. She suddenly remembered that she had been just Dora’s age when she met Viscount Charles Alden Trent. A poignant sadness came to her as she thought of how happy she had been, as happy as Dora seemed to be now. It seemed like another time and another age, when in reality she had been a widow for only two years. She did not like to think about the time of her marriage with Charles, so she blotted it out and listened as Septimus began reading from the newspaper.
“I see where our Royal Navy has destroyed a Chinese fleet over in Canton. I wonder why in the world the queen bothers to conquer China. All they do is ship opium over to us, and we certainly don’t need that.”He skimmed down the paper and remarked with satisfaction, “Well, they’ve done something worthwhile at last.”
“What’s that, Father?” Serafina asked, taking a bite of the deviled eggs.
“They’ve nearly completed that cable that goes under the Atlantic. Now there’s an achievement that science can be proud of!”
“What’s it for, dear?” Alberta asked.
“Why, it’s to send messages.”
“They go through a cable under the ocean? How could that be?”
Serafina thought, After so many years of marriage, one would think Father would have learnt that Mother has no head for science whatsoever. She listened as Septimus explained the workings of electricity and how messages could be sent through a cable on the ocean floor, but the expression on her mother’s face was one of complete puzzlement.
Finally Serafina interrupted by saying, “Did you read the story there about the Frenchman Louis Pasteur?”
“No, I haven’t seen that yet.”
“Well, he’s proved that fermentation is caused by living organisms.”
Septimus put his paper down, and the two of them began speaking of Pasteur’s work. They might have been speaking in Sanskrit for all that Dora or Alberta understood. Septimus was just beginning another complicated explanation when James appeared.He cleared his throat and said, “Pardon me for interrupting, sir, but there are two gentlemen here to see you.”
Septimus stared at him. “Who are they?”
“I believe they are from the police, sir.”
Septimus could not have been more surprised if Barden had announced they had come from the moon. “The police!” he exclaimed.
“Well, sir, actually they’re from Scotland Yard. One of them is Superintendent Winters.”
“Oh, Mr.Winters!” Alberta exclaimed. “Why, I had lunch with Mrs.
Winters just last Thursday. I wonder if anything has happened.”
“I expect I had better go see,” Septimus said.
“I’ll go with you, Father,” Serafina added quickly. “You finish your breakfast, David.”
“Yes,Mum, but can I have more eggs?”
“Yes. Dora, get David some more eggs, please.”
Septimus and Serafina left the room, and Serafina forced herself to control her agitation. Somehow she did not feel this was a social visit.
They entered the foyer, where the two men were waiting to greet them.
“Yes, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” Septimus said.
“I am Superintendent William Winters. You are Mr. Newton, I believe?”
“Yes, indeed. This is my daughter, Viscountess Serafina Trent.”
Winters bowed. He was a tall, strongly built man of forty-four. He had aquiline features and icy blue eyes. “This is Inspector Matthew Grant.” Grant bowed slightly but said nothing. He stood only slightly shorter than Winters, and his thick hair, obviously prematurely grey, glowed with health. He emanated physical well-being; strength was evident in his hands and in the thickness of his neck.
“Would you gentlemen care to come into the study?”
“I think that might be best, Mr. Newton.”
Newton led the way into the study. It was a gracious room lined with bookshelves on two sides, the third being taken up with floor-to-ceiling windows curtained in rust red velvet. On the fourth side was a huge marble fireplace flanked by semicircular tables inlaid with exotic wood. A massive oak desk also sat imposingly in the room, complemented by a finely carved chair in green leather, its back to the windows, and also two large, leather-covered armchairs.
Serafina did not speak, but kept her eyes fixed on Winters and Grant. Of the two men, Grant seemed the most formidable. His attitude seemed belligerent, and his hazel eyes had an almost angry glint in them that she could not account for. Winters, on the other hand, despite his imposing presence, had a certain charm about him. She had heard her mother say
that he had married a wealthy woman who had political ambitions for her husband.
“I know our visit comes as a surprise, but we need to have a word with Clive Newton. He’s your son, I believe?”
“Yes, he is.”
“We need to speak with him, sir.”
“I’m afraid he’s not up yet, Superintendent,” Serafina said.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to get him up,”Winters said quietly.
“What’s the problem, Superintendent?” Serafina asked. Her father seemed too stunned even to speak.
“There’s been a crime, and we need to question your brother.”
“I can’t imagine what Clive could know about such a thing!” Septimus said, his voice troubled.
“I’ll go get Clive,” Serafina said. “Would you gentlemen be seated? I’ll have the maid bring some tea.”
“That would be most gracious,Viscountess.”Winters bowed slightly.
Serafina ascended the stairs quickly. She did not knock on Clive’s door but simply opened it and stepped inside. He was still asleep, and he groaned as she shook him. “Get up, Clive!”
“What? What is it?” Clive pushed her away and gave her an angry look. “What do you want, Serafina?”
“You’ve got to get up.”
“Leave me alone.” Clive tried to move away, but Serafina grasped his arms. “The police are downstairs. They insist on speaking with you.”
Clive sat up and stared wildly around the room in confusion. “The police?”
“There’s been a crime committed, and they want to question you about it.”
Clive stood to his feet shakily, and the movement seemed to give him extreme pain in his temples. He raised his hand and held his head for a moment. “A crime? I don’t know anything about a crime.”
“Where were you last night, Clive?”
“I went to the theatre.”
Serafina started to question him but shook her head. “You’ll have to come down.”
“I’ll need to shave first.”
“I don’t think these gentlemen will wait. You can take care of that later. Come now.”
Serafina waited until Clive had walked uncertainly to the door. He stepped through it and held the banister on his way down the stairs.“My head is killing me,” he whispered.
“Be very careful what you say. These men will be listening carefully.”
“I don’t know why they want to talk to me.”
“They’re in the study. Father’s with them.”
Serafina took Clive’s arm and led him to the door to the study. She released him and walked in with Clive close behind her. “This is my brother. Clive, this is Superintendent Winters and Inspector Grant.”
Winters did not offer a formal greeting. “Mr. Newton, we have a few questions to ask you if you don’t mind.”
Clive’s eyes were bleary. As always when challenged, he grew somewhat rebellious. “I can’t think why you need to speak with me, sir.”
“We need to know your movements after you left the Old Vic Theatre last night.” Grant spoke for the first time. He had a guarded manner that was somehow intimidating. His voice was low but demanding. “Where’d you get those scratches on your face, Mr. Newton?”
Serafina’s eyes went at once to Clive’s face. She had already noted the scratches—rather ugly wounds mostly on the left side of his face.
“I—I got into a little scuffle at a public house.”
“Which public house was that, sir?” Grant demanded instantly. He set himself in front of Clive, and Superintendent Winters seemed content to let Grant do the questioning.
“I really don’t remember. I had been drinking some.”
“You must remember where you went, sir. After you left the theatre, which direction did you take?”
Clive’s hands began to tremble. Even Serafina saw it, and her father said nervously, “What is it, Clive?”
“I don’t like to be questioned like this.”
Grant said at once, “It’s either here or we’ll take you down to the station.”
“The station! You mean you’d arrest me?”
“There’s been a tragic event, Mr. Newton,” Winters said. His voice was soft, but his icy blue eyes were fixed on Clive. “You are acquainted with Miss Katherine Fairfield?”
“Yes, slightly.”
“I understand that you’ve been seeing her quite regularly.”
“We’ve been out together.What about it?”
Grant spoke, his words harsh. “Her maid found her this morning.
She’d been murdered. Slashed terribly.”
Serafina’s eyes went at once to Clive. She saw him turn pale, and he ran his hands through his hair in a gesture she’d seen often in her brother when he was disturbed.
“I—I can’t believe it . . .” Clive stammered. They all saw that he was shaken by the news, but Winters and Grant would see his behaviour in a different light. Even to Serafina, Clive gave the appearance of a guilty man.
“It’s true enough,” Winters said. “A great tragedy. A most brutal murder.”
“But—why are you talking to me?”
“We understand,” Grant said, relentless in his questioning, “that you had an altercation with Miss Fairfield at the theatre last night.”
Clive swallowed hard and looked at his father and then at Serafina.He dropped his head and muttered, “We had an argument.”
“Did you threaten to kill her?”
“Certainly not!”
“I’m afraid,” Superintendent Winters said, “we have witnesses that will testify that you did make such threats. Mr. Newton, I think you’d better tell us all of your movements from the time you left the theatre.”
Serafina’s throat seemed to close as she listened to Clive stumble with his words. He was obviously making up the story, but one thing seemed clear. He had been drunk, and when he drank he usually could not remember what he did.
“I—I do remember going to the Seven Dials section.”
“Why did you go there?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“What did you do while you were there, Mr.Newton?”Grant persisted.
Clive dropped his head. “A woman approached me.We went to get a drink together, and afterward we—we went to her room.”
“What was her name?”
“I didn’t ask her. But she gave me these scratches on my face. She wanted too much money, and I argued with her.”
“Can you describe her, Mr. Newton?” Superintendent Winters asked quietly. “It’s very important that we find her—important for you, I mean.”
“I don’t remember,” Clive said. “I was drunk. I do remember she had blonde hair, and she was very tall. That’s all I can remember.”
“What street were you on?” Grant demanded.
As Grant fired direct questions, Septimus exchanged despairing glances with Serafina. They both were sick at heart. Finally Grant said, “We have a search warrant, Mr. Newton.” He spoke to Septimus. “We’ll have to search your son’s room.”
“Of course,” Septimus whispered. “I’ll take you up there.”
The two detectives turned, but Winters said, “I have a sergeant outside. He’ll have to stay with you, Mr. Newton, while we’re searching your room.”
“I’ll call him in.” Grant left the room and was back in a few minutes. With him was a small man, no more than five feet eight inches, with sandy hair, sharp light brown eyes, and a neat mustache. “This is Sergeant Kenzie. Kenzie, you will remain with Mr.Newton here while we search his room.”
“That I will, sir.”
The two detectives moved toward the stairway, and the maid came in at that moment with the tea. “Will you have some tea, Sergeant Kenzie?” Newton asked.
“That would be vury good, sir,” he said in a thick Scottish accent. “I’m sorry for your trouble.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
The two detectives had been searching the room for over thirty mi
nutes. They were experienced and overlooked nothing.
“Doesn’t seem to be anything here that would tie young Newton to the killing,” Grant said, and he shook his head. “He’s guilty, though.
I’d stake my life on that!” Grant gave Winters a direct stare, then continued, “You know what they say about the death of Lady Trent’s husband?”
“Of course.”Winters shrugged. “I am familiar with that case.”
“Some say he was murdered by his wife.”
Winters shook his head, and regret tinged his tone as he said, “I’m one of those who believe that—but there wasn’t enough evidence.”
“What convinced you that she killed her husband, sir?”
“It was more of a feeling, Grant, and you know as well as I that in a murder trial, the prosecutor needs more than that.”
Grant’s lips drew together into a tight line, and he said, “I think Clive is guilty.”
“Good! Then let’s find some hard evidence.”
The two continued to search, and finally Grant, who had pulled the drawer out of an armoire, spoke sharply. “Superintendent, look at this.”
Winters came over and asked, “What is it, Grant?”
“Behind this drawer there’s a cavity. And look, there’s a bag here.”
Grant pulled the bag out. It was leather, with a drawstring, and when he opened it and poured the contents into his hand, jewels glittered.
“That’s bad news for Newton,” Superintendent Winters said, shaking his head. “This looks like some of the jewellery on the list of what was missing from the victim’s room.”
“I’ve got the list, sir.”
“Come over here and lay them out on this desk.”
Grant emptied the bag, and the two men checked the contents against the list.
“There’s no doubt about it,” Grant said grimly. “They’re the jewels that were taken from Kate Fairfield’s room.” He put the jewellery back, and had started to leave when suddenly Superintendent Winters stopped and said, “What’s that?”
“What’s what, sir?”
“There—stuffed behind that chest.”
Winters went over, and Grant followed him. Winters reached down and tried to squeeze his hand behind it. “Some cloth back here.”
The Mermaid in the Basement Page 6
