by Kate Parker
The whole window had been broken out of the frame. It would have taken a great deal of force to take out an entire third-story window and land so far away from the house.
“Death by defenestration? Hardly an accident,” the elder Lady Kaldaire said. I glanced back to see her turning pale, her arms crossed over her stomach.
Avoiding a last look at Gregson, I went inside to the telephone in the hallway. Picking it up, I asked for the nearest police station in a quavering voice. After giving them all the particulars, I was certain the gears of the Metropolitan Police were turning.
The new Lord Kaldaire, Laurence, came in the front door as I hung up the telephone. “What are you doing on my telephone?” After the tiniest of pauses, he continued. “And where’s Gregson? He’s supposed to answer the door. I knocked for a full minute before I walked in. Anyone could have entered here without warning.”
I hadn’t heard him knock and I suspected he was exaggerating to voice his annoyance. I waited until he wore down. “Gregson is dead. He was thrown out of a window in the back of the house. I called the police.”
“How dare you take it upon yourself to decide whether to call the police in my home.” He strode toward me, his cane swinging toward my knees.
“Lady Kaldaire told me to telephone, my lord.” I deliberately didn’t say which one. Then I hurried toward the garden, Lord Kaldaire on my heels.
A semicircle of servants had formed around Gregson and the window glass shattered on the flagstones. A couple of the maids were openly weeping. Attempting to study the body without fainting, I could see what appeared to be a deep gash in Gregson’s head on the side away from where his body met the ground. Blood still oozed from what looked like a knife wound.
“What’s the meaning of this? Get back to work,” Lord Kaldaire snapped at the servants and then turned to Roberta, Lady Kaldaire. “These things wouldn’t happen if you’d move out and take your servants with you.”
Lady Kaldaire pulled herself up to full argumentative battle stature and announced, “I assure you I had nothing to do with this death or the death of my husband.”
“Oh, no, Roberta, do not tell me—”
As Lord Kaldaire rose to his loudest quarreling volume, I saw a bobby step through the French doors. I signaled him to come forward and gestured toward the body.
He walked closer to Gregson’s corpse and after a good look, swallowed before he turned to face us. “If everyone could go inside, I’m to stand guard over the body until the inspector arrives.”
Roberta, Lady Kaldaire nodded and gestured to me to precede her into the house while Lord Kaldaire began to argue. Once we were in the door, she said, “Emily, go up and guard the room. It’s the green guestroom. No one is staying in it at the moment.”
I rushed up flights of stairs, past the larger, better bedrooms to the smaller bedrooms and the nursery. The door to the green bedroom stood open, and I could feel a breeze cool my face.
Standing in the doorway catching my breath, I could see the opening for the window as well as most of the room. There was no glass on the polished floor or on the carpet that encircled the bed. There didn’t seem to be any sign that the room had been recently occupied by the butler and his killer, so I walked in.
I could see the maids had been diligent in their dusting and polishing. I didn’t see marks on any surface. Both the upper and lower sashes of the window had been broken out in their entirety and the frame was damaged. When I examined the draperies, I found they had been tangled around and partially pushed through the window with the body. I could see blood smears and pieces of glass on the fabric that remained in the room.
I heard men’s voices in the garden below. Peering out, I saw two bobbies and Detective Inspector Russell. At that moment, Russell looked up. I jerked back, but I feared I was too late.
Crossing the room, I was in the doorway when I found a bobby in the hall. I glanced around. The only way out was past him.
Or falling forty feet like Gregson.
I was about to try to slip out when the bobby said, “Stay where you are until the inspector gets here, miss.”
I didn’t have long to wait, but it was long enough to examine my conscience and decide I had nothing to feel guilty about. Both Ladies Kaldaire could vouch for my movements before and after the murder. This time, Russell couldn’t use my lack of an alibi to force me to spy on my father’s family or to take on any other wretched assignment he dreamed up.
I watched him, looking tired and rumpled as usual, wearily climb the last half flight of stairs. “Miss Gates,” he grumbled. “This the room?”
“Yes, and you’ll notice blood stains and glass in the drapery fabric hanging inside the window. I think Gregson was struck with a knife before someone threw him out.”
He stared at me, slowly shaking his head, before he said, “I get called to a death by defenestration. At a house where there was recently a murder. Do you know how rarely people are thrown out of windows? And when I get there, who do I find staring down from the window from where the body fell? You. I’ve never seen a case like this. Nothing is normal when you’re around.” He grumbled as he glanced into the room.
“Don’t be so irritable, Inspector. I don’t like finding dead bodies when I go visiting.” Now that the shock had passed, I was starting to feel weak. I’d respected Gregson. He was loyal to her ladyship and didn’t block my way like some of my customers’ butlers. This wasn’t fair. This was wrong.
I must have turned a little pale, because he said, “Go downstairs with the ladies.” I started to leave when he reached out and took hold of my arm. “You didn’t find anything I should know about? Touch anything? Move anything?”
I shook my head. “I just looked.”
He let go of me and I started down the stairs. About four steps down, I turned and found him watching me. “Inspector, find out who did this. Please.”
“I intend to.”
I walked down to the ground floor to find the widowed Lady Kaldaire with the current Kaldaires and a bobby in the parlor. “You have to stay here, miss, until you’ve been questioned,” the constable said.
“Surely she can wait with the servants,” Lord Kaldaire said.
“Oh, Laurence,” Lady Kaldaire said in a weary tone. “We’ll wait in the morning room.”
“The inspector wanted me to keep an eye on all of you,” the bobby said.
“We’ll be in the morning room. We won’t go anywhere,” Lady Kaldaire said and walked past the constable. I followed her down the hall.
Once we entered the morning room and shut the door, she said, “I didn’t think I could stand another minute with that odious man. Horace could be pompous and quite annoying, but he was never vicious. His brother is an evil creature. Do you know he’s demanding that I move out by the end of the week? The house won’t be ready by then. And he thinks I’m leaving the furniture in this room.” She sat down on a couch and gave me an imperious look.
“I think I’d want to move out of a house where the butler was thrown from an upstairs window and the master was bludgeoned in the study.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold from my thoughts.
“These things didn’t just happen, Emily. Someone is doing this and I want them caught.” The knife edge in her tone matched the steel in her expression.
Unspoken was her insistence that I help her. I felt myself slipping deeper into her plans and nearly groaned in frustration. Still, I had to ask, “Why was Gregson up in that room?”
“Checking on the housekeeping. Making certain it was ready for a guest—”
“Is there anyone coming to stay in that room?”
“One of the children from Cecily’s brood. The older two claim to be too old to stay in the nursery, so they’ll have their own bedrooms on that floor.”
“So someone could have known he’d be up there and waited for him, or someone could have followed him. Which doesn’t exclude anyone, except you, me, and the new Lady Kaldaire. But why Gregson?
” I started to pace across the room.
“Perhaps someone was angry because they thought he was going to leave here to be my butler? Someone who wanted a job with me?”
“Any particular reason why that would be a plum position?” I asked.
“None at all.”
“He was loyal to you. And that could have made him dangerous for someone. But who? And why?”
“That’s what you’re going to find out, Emily.”
Why me? I bit back any argument, knowing it to be futile, and put my mind to the problem. “I wonder if he knew something about the night your husband was murdered. Something he hadn’t reported because he didn’t realize how important it was. Or hadn’t reported to protect someone.”
I stopped in mid-stride. “Oh, bother. Unless he told someone, we’ll never know what he knew. And we’ll never find the killer.”
And I’d never be free of Lady Kaldaire and her demands. Mentally, I shrieked in frustration.
Chapter Fifteen
“And I’ll never know why he wasn’t leaving to take a position at my house. Why he decided to stay on here as butler,” Lady Kaldaire said.
I stared at her for a moment. That was an odd thing to think of right after the man’s death. I shook my head. “When did he tell you that?”
“Yesterday afternoon.” She brushed the importance of time away with one hand.
And was murdered the next morning. All I said was, “Why? Was it prestige? Money?”
“It couldn’t be money. Laurence doesn’t have any. But there would be a great deal more prestige in being the butler at Kaldaire House, as well as more benefits with this job, than in a widow’s household. Maybe that was why he decided to stay.”
“What kind of benefits?” This was a part of aristocratic life I’d never viewed.
“The butler maintains the wine cellar. There are ways to make money from that position in a socially well-connected house where the master isn’t too observant. Laurence wouldn’t be. And if he wanted to move to a grander house, this would be a good place to move from. Not from a widow’s house. I’m sure Gregson negotiated a salary with Laurence that was at least as good as we were paying him.”
“He wouldn’t be in as good a position in your new household?”
“Goodness, no. I expect to have very few dinner parties and even fewer houseguests.”
“Could anyone be so angry he decided to stay that they would murder him?” I had no idea who would benefit from Gregson’s death.
“The first footman, Newton, had already agreed to work at my new house. He would be the obvious choice, except he’s already gained by my leaving and Gregson staying. The second footman, Rawlings, moves up accordingly,” Lady Kaldaire told me.
“Gregson didn’t have many relatives and probably didn’t have much to leave them, so I can’t see them creeping in and pushing him out a window.” She frowned. “The usual people who would gain by a murder don’t in this case.”
I dropped into a chair uninvited. “Someone else has been murdered, and we’re no farther forward in figuring out who killed Lord Kaldaire. And we haven’t questioned Lady Taylor yet.”
“I learned she’s at their country house. Something about a horseless carriage race. Lord Taylor is said to be passionate about this new type of racing. I can’t think of anything drearier.”
A bobby came into the morning room. “Lady Kaldaire, the inspector would like a word with you now.”
“I don’t know what use I’ll be, but I’ll be glad to speak to him.” She walked off with stately grace and a manner that said she’d soon straighten everything out.
I waited in the morning room for my turn. A few minutes later, the current Lady Kaldaire walked in and looked around. I could almost hear her valuing the furniture and knickknacks.
Rising out of politeness, I curtsied and greeted her.
“If you think you’re going to be her favored pet forever, you’re going to be in for a nasty shock.” There was an evil glee in her voice.
I’d taken her measure and decided the best route was to avoid giving Cecily any ammunition. “Lady Kaldaire needs my help to get her new house ready.” Well, that was a lie, but not a big one. “Once it’s done, I doubt she’ll need my assistance for anything.”
“And won’t you be a sad little thing then, forced back into selling hats.”
Ladies were glad to buy my hats. They were well made, well fitted, and stylish. I’d hardly consider myself forced to sell hats, but her words stung nevertheless. “I am a milliner by trade.”
“One without clients if I have anything to do with it. I think it’s shameful the way you take advantage of Roberta.”
“I don’t think anyone can take advantage of Lady Kaldaire. Not you. Not me. Not the police.”
I saw the door start to open behind Cecily as she said, “You’ve taken advantage of her in her poor, widowed state. I find that shameful.”
“I find that unlikely.” Detective Inspector Russell spoke from behind the “poor, widowed” Lady Kaldaire.
The present Lady Kaldaire spun around. “Roberta. I was just watching out for your best interests.”
“I know what you were doing, Cecily. Your husband is looking for you.” Lady Kaldaire strode in and sat down. “Sit down, Inspector. Emily.”
Once I made sure the door was shut behind Cecily, I said, “I don’t know what I can add to what everyone’s told you so far.”
“You entered the breakfast room after Lady Kaldaire.”
“Yes. The two Ladies Kaldaire were sitting at the table with the remains of their meal in front of them when I walked in.”
“No Lord Kaldaire?” the inspector asked.
“No.”
“Where was Gregson?” Lady Kaldaire asked.
“Upstairs about to be murdered,” I said, and then tried to cover my outspokenness by adding, “Too bad we don’t know who he was with.” I suspected I’d just made things worse.
“No.” She waved a hand at me. “He shouldn’t have been upstairs. He should have been seeing to clearing the table. He should have been in there with us. I was so aggravated with Cecily I just realized he was missing.”
“Did Gregson open the door to you, Miss Gates?”
“Yes, but then he told me I knew the way to the breakfast room, and I came in here alone while he answered Lord Kaldaire’s call from the study.”
“His lordship said he had him show out a visitor,” the detective said. “How long from the time you entered the house until you saw Gregson fall?”
“Less than ten minutes.”
“Can you be more precise?”
Not really. “Five minutes, more or less. After I phoned the police station, Lord Kaldaire came in the front door complaining that Gregson wasn’t answering the door. I don’t know where he’d been.”
“I didn’t know he’d left,” Lady Kaldaire said, sounding as if she should have been informed of his movements.
Once again, I was glad that I wasn’t a member of this family.
“He said he thought he saw a friend of his on the pavement, so he went out to speak to him. Turned out it wasn’t his friend at all,” the inspector said, flipping over a page in his notebook. “Miss Gates, did you see anyone upstairs when you went up to the green bedroom?”
“No one on the stairs or in the room until the bobby came up. And there was no sign that anyone had been in the room besides the window broken out and the blood and the glass in the draperies.”
“Blood?” Lady Kaldaire asked.
“Yes, and I saw a nasty wound on the side of Gregson’s head opposite the side he landed on. I think he was hit first and thrown out the window afterward.” I looked at the inspector for confirmation.
“We’ll need to wait on the results of the postmortem,” he said, his face lacking expression.
I decided I must be right. “We’re looking for someone who could lift Gregson and heave him out the window with some force,” I told Lady Kaldaire.
“Gregson was hardly a lightweight. It would take both of us and one of the maids to lift him up and toss him through the window,” Lady Kaldaire said, “and I wouldn’t trust any of the maids to keep their mouths shut about something like that.”
“We were both downstairs when it happened,” I reminded her while looking at the inspector. I felt guilty and I’d had nothing to do with it.
“This could be a suicide,” the inspector said. “He was despondent and took a run at the window. It gave way and the blood was from cuts he received as the glass broke.”
“He wasn’t despondent. If anything, he seemed pleased with himself when he told me he was staying at Kaldaire House rather than moving with me.” Lady Kaldaire sounded disgruntled. Even though she knew he’d be better off staying, she couldn’t understand why anyone would not want to work for her, even as she bribed, threatened, and encouraged me to help find her husband’s murderer. I felt certain everyone received the same treatment.
“Is this true?” I received Russell’s gray-eyed stare.
“I had little to do with Gregson, but I didn’t see any change in him.” I thought I answered him reasonably.
Russell’s expression was grim. “If I find you in the vicinity of one more crime, I’m taking you in.”
My heart took a dive into my knees. Finally finding my voice, I asked, “On what charge, Inspector?”
“Consorting with known criminals.”
“But Lady Kaldaire has been around both crimes.”
“She had a reason to be. You didn’t.”
“Don’t be difficult, Inspector,” Lady Kaldaire said. “You need our help.”
“And I suspect you need mine.” He leaned forward in his chair, his knee nearly hitting mine. “How long until your new house is ready, my lady?”
“Perhaps a week or a little more. Why?”
“There have already been two murders in this household, and by now everyone must know you are looking for the killer. I’d be just as happy if you were elsewhere.”
“Unavailable for the murderer to do away with you,” I added.
“That goes for you too, Miss Gates.”
