The Killing at Kaldaire House

by Kate Parker

  “What did you see when you showed the prince out? Did you hear footsteps? Voices? Anything?” This time period had to be critical to Lord Kaldaire’s death.

  “I heard Prince Maximilian say good night before I shut the door. I didn’t see anyone else in the area.”

  “And you told all this to the police?”

  “Oh, yes, miss.” He was very quick with that answer. It made me wonder what he had failed to tell us. Had he also failed to tell whatever he was holding back to the police as well?

  “Did anything odd happen before Lady Kaldaire retired for the night?” I continued.

  “Odd, miss?”

  “Yes, odd, Gregson.” Lady Kaldaire sounded annoyed.

  “No, I don’t believe so, my lady.”

  “Very well, Gregson. Thank you.”

  He bowed to her ladyship and left the room, silently shutting the door behind him.

  “I wonder what really happened,” I said, studying Lady Kaldaire.

  “You don’t think Gregson told us the truth?”

  “Some of the truth. He hesitated too much before he told us anything. That’s a sure sign he was trying to decide how much to hide from you without actually lying.”

  “How do you know so much about human behavior, Emily?”

  I thought of my father. “It comes from observation.”

  “Well, I know Gregson. He doesn’t lie often enough to become good at it. He considers what he told us was a lie, but it might be only that he left something out. I wonder what it was.” She was frowning now.

  I glanced at the door Gregson had left through. “He said the light in the study was out, but it was definitely on and the door was open a little when I reached it. I wonder if he saw the killer?”

  “I would hope if he had, he’d tell us.”

  “He wouldn’t if he had more to gain by not telling us.” Could Gregson be blackmailing someone? Or protecting a murderer out of love or duty?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “This makes me wonder how much I can trust any of my servants.” Her ladyship’s frown deepened.

  That was not a problem I could relate to.

  She interviewed several maids and the cook without learning anything. Unfortunately, they had all been where they were supposed to be, and with witnesses.

  When she called in Newton, the first footman, I wasn’t impressed with his character. He knew he was good-looking and thought everyone else noticed it, too. He had the measure of Lady Kaldaire and guessed the best response was an appearance of open, honest answers.

  He readily admitted he’d not come back from the pub until later than he was supposed to return. “Beggin’ your ladyship’s pardon, but I got chatting with a mate, a footman for the Duke of Morehead, and forgot all about the time.”

  “What did Gregson say?”

  “He said, ‘It’s too late to lecture you tonight. Now I can lock the door and go to sleep peacefully.’”

  “Did he later speak to you about your tardiness?”

  “With the death of his lordship, all other concerns were set aside. Don’t worry, your ladyship, I have chastised myself.”

  I’ll bet, I thought as Lady Kaldaire said, “What time did you return?”

  “The church clock tower was just chiming eleven.”

  “Did you see anyone around the outside of the house?”

  “I saw a figure walking away from the house at a good pace. I thought maybe he’d just walked past our door, though, not come from our house.”

  Lady Kaldaire and I exchanged glances. “Could you describe him?” I asked.

  He turned from me and spoke directly to his employer. “It was dark and he was in shadow, on account of those trees by the streetlamp. He was in evening clothes, wearing a top hat. More than that, I can’t say.”

  Prince Maximilian leaving the house? Someone passing by? Or someone we hadn’t considered yet?

  “Can you be absolutely certain this man was walking down the street and not leaving Kaldaire House?” I asked.

  It wasn’t until Lady Kaldaire nodded to him that Newton answered, “No. He was there, but where he’d come from, this house or further down the street, I couldn’t say.”

  He couldn’t tell us anything else. The second footman, Rawlings, admitted that Newton had come in late that evening, agreed with the time Newton had given us, and then immediately assured us Newton had been sober. It was the first thing any of the servants had volunteered. I didn’t believe him.

  When Rawlings left, Lady Kaldaire said, “I wonder if Viscount Taylor waited outside. If he was dissatisfied with Horace’s cavalier treatment of his wife’s honor, he might do anything.”

  “Or it might have been Prince Maximilian leaving. He would have left about that time. Remember, Gregson told Newton now that he was home, Gregson could lock up and go to bed. That must mean Newton saw this man about the same time your husband told Gregson to go to bed.”

  Lady Kaldaire looked at me with a piercing glance. “Then that would mean you killed my husband. You were the only person to come in after Gregson locked up.”

  I stared back, refusing to be intimidated. “I didn’t. Someone else could have broken in that night, or someone walked in the front door before Gregson locked up.”

  “Surely they would have knocked or rung the bell and Gregson would have heard them.”

  In many ways, Lady Kaldaire was an innocent who needed to be protected. “Not if they’d come to murder your husband. Now, why did you ask me to call on you?”

  “I didn’t.”

  I stared at her, momentarily speechless. “You didn’t send a young footman to the shop to ask me to call today?”

  “No. Who said I did?”

  “Jane, who’s not familiar with your household.” My heartbeat raced. “Excuse me, my lady. I’d better check to make certain things are all right at home.”

  I rushed back, cursing the heavy traffic under my breath, to find the shop was a shambles, but at least the newly repaired front door was intact.

  Jane sat in a chair, blood seeping from a bloody nose. Hats and hatboxes were scattered across the floor of the shop and the storeroom next to it. One of the mirrors lay smashed on the floor. Noah and Matthew were picking up the stock while Annie held a damp rag against Jane’s cheek. Nothing appeared badly crushed or stolen.

  “Here. Let me see your face. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  As I bent over to look at Jane’s face, she said, “Just shaken. When he came in, I was the only one in the shop. He picked me up and tossed me aside like a rag doll. Then he started knocking hatboxes off the shelves in the back room and throwing hats around on the floor.”

  She sniffed, nearly in tears, and said, “I screamed, and that’s when he picked up a table and threw it against the mirror. The sound alerted Annie, who was coming across the alley. She ran back to Noah and he and Matthew came over armed with scissors and a broom.”

  “Your nose and cheek look puffy, as if he struck you. Let’s send you home. Put cold cloths on your face, and lie down for a time. Can you make it home by yourself or do you want me to go with you?”

  “He’s long gone and I don’t live far from here.” She gave me a wobbly smile. “I can make it.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “A big man, maybe thirty. Dark hair. Oh, and he has a long scar down his face. On the left side.”

  When Jane refused my company, I had Annie walk her home and then had the child come right back. While she was gone, Noah verified the description and added, “He was big, but when he saw us, he ran. One punch and we’d have been defeated, but he took off instead of fighting us. A robbery, do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” I began helping to pick up the shop. On top of one of our hatboxes, I found another note in block capitals with the same message as the first. STAY AWAY FROM KALDAIRE HOUSE.

  Noah looked at the note and then folded his arms over his chest as he glowered.

  First Noah was attacked in my place,
and now Jane. If I could find a way to distance myself from Kaldaire House and everyone in it, I would. I didn’t want to see my family or my employees hurt because my curiosity led me astray. It wasn’t fair to them.

  I’d have felt better if I’d been the one to be ambushed.

  I slept badly that night. Whenever I dreamed, shadows followed me.

  * * *

  I was in the shop the next morning showing a customer some new designs in yellow when Detective Inspector Russell arrived, filling my feminine shop with the gruff, wrinkled presence of tweed and coal dust.

  Both the lady and I must have look shocked because he doffed his hat to us and said, “Pardon me, ladies. I’ll just wait for you in the alley, Miss Gates.”

  I recognized when misfortune was inevitable. “Of course.”

  “Who was that man?” the lady asked. “He looks like he spent the night in a coal bin. Still, he does look like he cleans up well.” She gave a last, wistful look at the now-empty doorway and focused once more on hat brims.

  Her maid continued to give the doorway a longing look.

  Jane, recovered from the attack the previous day, returned carrying more yellow hat possibilities and took over waiting on the customer. When I reached the alley by our back door, I found Russell leaning against the sooty brick wall of our building, his eyes closed. “Is that how you got covered in coal dust?”

  Without opening his eyes, he said, “I spent the night staking out a criminal gang. We arrested the lot of them at daybreak and confiscated their loot.” He opened his eyes and focused his tired gaze on me. “It wasn’t anyone you’re related to.”

  I admit to hiding my great feelings of relief. Aloud, I asked, “Why are you here instead of in your bed catching up on your sleep?”

  “I heard about the attack on your assistant.”

  “The attack was meant for me.” I showed him the note.

  He pocketed the note while he asked me for a description of the assailant. When I told him, he nodded.

  “Do you know this man?”

  “It sounds like someone neither you nor Lady Kaldaire should have anything to do with.”

  “But do you know who he is?” I was adamant. Knowing his name could be helpful.

  With a shrug, Russell said, “I know you’ve been visiting your family. Have you learned anything?”

  Part of the truth would probably be better than an outright lie. “Do you know the story of the DMLR railway?”

  “Yes, but Kaldaire lost money in that venture. How could it lead to his death?”

  “Lord Kaldaire had been communicating with Lady Taylor. She was the widow of the man in charge of the DMLR railway investment. And Lord Taylor, who also lost money on this, visited Lord Kaldaire the evening he died.”

  Russell’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

  “I asked my grandfather to look into the venture to see if anyone could have made money out of it.”

  “A confidence trick.” He nodded and then gave me a smile. “I like the way you think about things.”

  “You don’t mind me asking my grandfather for information?”

  He shook his head and then rubbed his eyes with coal-stained hands. “No. Your grandfather is a decent-enough man. When he breaks the law, I’m duty bound to try to catch him. But if I met him on the street, I think I’d like him.”

  Pushing himself off the wall, he said, “Share with me anything he figures out about that railroad business. This may turn out to be a useful idea.”

  As he walked away, I said to his back, “Where are you off to now?”

  “A bath and my bed. Where did you think?”

  I walked back into the shop, smiling. If nothing else, we agreed about my grandfather. Then I pictured him in his bed, and my smile grew.

  * * *

  The rest of the day and evening, I stayed close to the shop, designing, waiting on customers, trying to teach Annie to make ribbon flowers, struggling with accounts. A flyer for the Doncaster School for the Deaf sat next to me on my desk. How would I ever be able to pay for Matthew’s schooling?

  The next morning, I received a note from Lady Kaldaire requesting a look at the progress I’d made in her sketches. I wondered what she really wanted. Or if she was the one who sent it.

  Jane said she wasn’t afraid to work in the shop alone, but could Annie stay with her and learn the customer end of the business? Annie nodded gravely, and I left.

  Gregson opened the door to my ring. “Both Ladies Kaldaire are in the breakfast room. I believe you know the way.”

  A not-so-subtle reminder that I’d broken in that way the night Lord Kaldaire was murdered. I gave him what I thought of as the regal nod. “Yes, thank you.”

  He turned away as Lord Kaldaire came out of his study and said, “Gregson.” I wasn’t certain who the man was standing behind him, but it looked like the rat-faced man with the lecherous eyes.

  I hurried away.

  Both ladies were drinking coffee when I walked in with my sketchbook. The remains of toast and jam, eggs, tomatoes, and sausage littered the plates on the table. The smell made my stomach rumble.

  “Will you have something, Emily?” Lady Kaldaire asked.

  “Roberta, it’s my house now, and I won’t be feeding breakfast to tradesmen at my table.” Cecily hissed without moving her lips, as if speaking this way meant I couldn’t hear her.

  “No, thank you, my lady. I received your message. I brought my sketchbook so we could get started.”

  “Just a moment. Cecily and I were discussing the ownership of the furniture in the morning room. Why don’t you sit? I expect this to take more than a moment.”

  “No.” Cecily sounded outraged.

  “Yes,” Lady Kaldaire said.

  I chose to listen to Roberta, Lady Kaldaire. She was my employer, of sorts. I sat down, set the sketchbook on the table in front of me, and waited for an explosion rivaling Guy Fawkes Night.

  “Roberta, this is exactly the type of thing I mean. You seem to think you can take whichever of the maids you choose, the cook threatens to put in her notice—”

  “That has more to do with your complaints about the food and your constant changes to the menu and the numbers to be fed than anything I’ve done. I’m not her employer. Mrs. Good has told me she won’t go to a household without a master. Women don’t eat enough to make cooking worth her time.”

  “I still won’t have a milliner sit at my table.” The new Lady Kaldaire spoke very clearly and very loudly. Apparently, she no longer cared if I heard what she said.

  “It’s not as though you invited her to eat anything.” Roberta, Lady Kaldaire, stared across the table. “I brought the morning room furniture with me from my parents’ estate when I married. Laurence should be able to remember the morning room before then. The furniture that had been in that room was moved into the attic.”

  Cecily huffed out an angry breath. “You can hardly think I want to dig around in the attic to furnish my morning room.”

  “You wouldn’t, though, would you? The servants do that. Or you can have Laurence buy you new furnishings.”

  “You know he can’t do that. What Horace did with all the money, I can’t imagine, and neither can Laurence.”

  “Yes. It is puzzling.” Roberta, Lady Kaldaire, rose and I immediately leaped to my feet. “The furniture is mine and I’m taking it, Cecily. What you do with the room afterward is totally at your discretion. Of course, you’ve been planning to take over my morning room since the moment Horace died.”

  Cecily’s pale skin turned an angry red. “I didn’t know Horace had died for hours afterward. And I was still at the country house. It was nearly two days later before I arrived here with my maid to take my rightful place as the mistress of Kaldaire House. So don’t tell me I was planning to take over anything. And after all this time, you are still acting as if this were your house.”

  “Laurence was in such a hurry to get here he couldn’t wait for you to pack? He couldn’t wait until Horace�
��s body was cold?” Lady Kaldaire appeared ready to do battle. Parasols at two paces, I decided.

  “I had to hurry to meet up with him here, since you’re more than a match for any man.”

  I heard glass break. I was facing the French doors leading from the breakfast room and glanced over in time to see something drop past the window panes. Something large and black and oddly shaped.

  I ran around the table and threw open the French doors. Stepping outside, I crossed the narrow veranda and stood in the sunshine.

  The figure, lying like a limp toy on the flagstones in the garden, had definitely been a man. And now was definitely dead.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I ran to where the black-clad figure had landed in the garden. Gregson. Blood seeped onto the flagstones beneath his head, and his body was sprawled and twisted like a rag doll. All around him lay glass and strips of wood.

  Horrified by the sight, I looked away and breathed deeply to fight the roiling in my stomach. Shudders ran the length of my body.

  While I fought for mastery of my stomach, I looked up at the back of Kaldaire House. One window was gaping empty and draperies were billowing out of the hole. One torn drapery panel flapped down the side of the house well below the window.

  Both Ladies Kaldaire rushed out the French doors and stood on the veranda, staring at the crushed body. Various servants spilled out into the sunshine.

  “It’s Gregson, my lady. It looks as if he was thrown out a window,” I told Roberta, Lady Kaldaire.

  She walked toward me and then looked up at the broken window. “The green guestroom, I think. Emily, call the police.” Her voice was firm. She didn’t appear to have begun trembling as I had.

  “No, Roberta. You can’t. Think of the scandal.” Cecily’s voice rose an octave in a shriek.

  “This is murder, Cecily.”

  “Maybe it was an accident.”

  As soon as I heard the current Lady Kaldaire say that, I hurried toward the French doors to telephone. I believed the new Lady Kaldaire would try to cover up this murder as an accident to avoid a scandal.