Madeline went to her, sat on the arm of the chair, and put an arm around her shoulders. “No, no. It’s not that at all.”
“Actually, in its way, this might help your mother’s case,” Nick said. “Don’t you think so, Drew?”
“Possibly, though we can’t know that quite yet.”
Joan looked from one to the other of them, clearly bewildered. “I don’t understand. If it might help Mother, then—”
“It’s about Mr. Tyler,” Madeline said gently.
“No.” There were sudden, fierce tears in Joan’s eyes. “I don’t believe it. They’ve been trying to blame Jamie for everything, from Father’s murder to the devaluation of the British pound. Whatever they say he’s done, it’s not true. I know it’s not true.”
“I wish it were just that,” Drew said, “but I’m afraid Tyler is dead.”
Joan blinked and her forehead wrinkled. “Wh—what? No. No, he can’t be dead. I saw him just last night. We went to Edinburgh, where nobody would know who I am and gossip about me. We had dinner at a little pub. We parked in a grove of trees just off the road on the way back.” She looked pleadingly at Madeline. “We were going to be married. As soon as everything with my mother was settled, we were going to be married.”
Carrie glanced at Nick, wrapping herself in her arms and saying nothing.
“I’m so sorry,” Madeline murmured, pulling Joan closer.
Joan clung to her for a moment, perfectly silent but trembling visibly. Then she pushed herself away and blotted her face with the handkerchief from her skirt pocket.
“Is there someone you’d like us to call?” Drew asked. “A friend? An aunt perhaps?”
Joan shook her head, her face blank now. “Just tell me. Tell me what happened.”
“Someone shot him,” Drew told her. “Last night or early this morning.”
“Shot him? Where is he? I have to go to him.”
“There’s no use doing that. The police won’t let you down there. Believe me, he’s dead. I saw for myself.”
“Down where?” she demanded. “What’s happened to him?”
“He was found on the rocks by the water, not far from the house.”
“But . . .” She looked bewildered. “Why would he be down there?”
“Wouldn’t he have been going back to Gullane after he’d seen you home?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t see me home. I dropped him at the end of the high street, just round that corner where the road bends. People in the village can’t really see much of that part of it. I thought it was best. Why would he have come back this way?” She caught a trembling breath. “Oh, Jamie, why didn’t you just go home?”
“What time did you let him out?” Drew asked after she’d had a moment to collect herself.
“I—I don’t know. We didn’t leave the pub until after midnight, I remember, but I can’t be sure about anything else. I got home maybe an hour later, maybe two.”
Drew frowned. “Did you speak to anybody in the house, someone who might remember the exact time? It would help us in narrowing down when he was killed.”
“I didn’t speak to anyone, no. Agnes was up. I saw her in the hallway. I don’t know if she’d remember the time, but we could ask her if it would help.”
“What was she doing that time of night?” Madeline asked.
“I don’t know. I hardly noticed her. One doesn’t, you know.”
Shortly after she was summoned, Agnes peeked into the drawing room. “You wished to see me, Miss Joan?”
Her face told the story as plainly as if it were written there. She’d heard about Tyler.
“Come in, please,” Drew said, and he brought over a straight-backed chair, one of those stark modern things that populated the house.
Looking as though she were on trial, Agnes sat down. “Is there a problem, sir?”
“No need to worry. I take it you’ve heard about the incident down by the water.”
She ducked her head, not looking at her mistress. “Yes, sir. I’m so very sorry, Miss Joan.”
Joan nodded just the slightest bit but said nothing.
“We’d just like to know,” Drew said, “if you heard anything last night. Something out of the ordinary, perhaps?”
“I canna be certain, sir. I was asleep, and I thought I heard something and went to look, but it was just Miss Joan coming in. There wasn’t anything else.”
“Fine. And did you happen to notice the time?”
“That I did, sir,” the maid replied. “It was twenty minutes past one. I looked because I was that turned around and thought I might’ve overslept myself. But it wasn’t nearly time to get up, so I took myself back to bed.”
“I see. Was there anything else you noticed, either then or later, anything at all? Perhaps you heard something? A motor car backfiring? The slam of a door?”
Agnes shook her head. “No, sir. I went to sleep again, got up at my usual time, and started work. It was then I heard about . . . well, about what had happened down there. I mean, after the master and then madam being taken away and now—”
Joan made a half-strangled little sound, and Madeline gave Drew an urgent look over the girl’s head.
“Yes, thank you, Agnes,” Drew said smoothly. “It has been a difficult time. That will be all for now. If you happen to think of anything else we ought to know about, don’t hesitate to come to me.”
Agnes stood and made a small curtsy. “Thank you, sir.” She turned anxiously to Joan. “Is there anything I can do for you, miss? I’m so very sorry.”
Joan shook her head, and with another bob, Agnes scurried out of the room.
Drew dropped to one knee beside Joan’s chair. “Would you like to stop for now?” He looked at Madeline. “Perhaps you could help her upstairs.”
“No,” Joan said, a determined set to her mouth. “I’m all right. It’s not going to get any easier, and I want to know what’s happening. I can’t stand to think—” She drew a hard breath. “Just ask me whatever you want to know.”
“All right.” Drew stood again. “Did Tyler say anything unusual to you? Was he having trouble with anyone at Muirfield, or at the place where he took lodgings?”
“Nothing.”
“I was down there just now,” Drew said gently. “I saw what had been in Mr. Tyler’s pockets. It can be quite helpful sometimes, seeing that.”
She merely looked at him, bewildered.
“Mostly it was the usual thing,” Drew told her. “A few coins, some tees, a ball marker, not much more. But there was also a 1914 Star. Do you recall seeing that before?”
“I think so, yes. He dropped it once when he took his latchkey out of his pocket. One night when I let him out in the village. He said it was his father’s. From the war.”
“I see. I expect he must have been quite proud.”
She glared at him, blinking back tears. “Of course he was. Do you think just because he hadn’t any money, he had no finer feelings? You didn’t know him. Nobody knew what he was really like.” She gulped down an unsteady breath and then another. Then she quieted and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Madeline said.
“We just spent the evening together,” Joan said, her voice flat and emotionless now. “He told me that when all this was over, he was going to tell Mother we would be getting married whether or not she liked it. We quarreled a bit because I didn’t think now was the time. He said we couldn’t wait forever, that we had our lives to live, too. You don’t think—? Oh, I don’t know. I can’t believe any of this is true.” She held her clasped hands to her mouth, taking slow, shaky breaths.
Drew pulled her hands gently away from her face. “What is it you’re thinking?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t even make sense.”
“What?”
She looked pleadingly at Madeline. “Did you ever wonder if someone you knew, someone you loved and trusted wasn’t who he said he was? And it was so awful, you
didn’t even want to think it, but you couldn’t help it because all the evidence made it look that way?”
Drew could feel Madeline’s eyes on him, though he never looked away from Joan. Yes, he knew that feeling, a horrible, terrible feeling where the world seemed to be spinning backward and there was nothing to grab hold of.
“What is it you’re thinking?” he asked again.
“It’s just who’d want to kill him, and why?”
“I understand there might be several husbands who might be interested,” Nick offered.
Joan scowled at him. “That’s old news. If any of them wanted to kill him, he’d have tried ages ago. I mean now. Who’d want to kill him now?” She swallowed hard, steadying herself. “My father said he was going to. If Jamie didn’t clear off. Of course, he’s gone now, too. But he and Mother both didn’t want me seeing him.”
“You’re not saying your mother could have been responsible for his death, are you?”
“No. I told you it didn’t make any sense. I told you it’s too awful. But the police think she killed Father and then Mr. Barnaby. If she would do that, or if she and an accomplice would do that, then why wouldn’t she have Jamie seen to, as well?” She bit her lip. “I—I haven’t been honest with you.”
“No? What do you mean?”
“That night you saw me coming in from the stable. You knew I’d been with Jamie, but I didn’t tell you what else happened.”
“As I recall,” Drew said, “you were quite adamant that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.”
“I was in the stable with Jamie.” Her face turned pink, but she lifted her chin and forced herself to go on. “I walked with him to the road, watching him until he had gone over the rise. Then I saw that car parked there under the trees. You remember?”
Drew nodded.
“It was Mr. MacArthur’s car. I recognized it. But I couldn’t understand why he’d left it there. The only thing out that way is the cottage, so I thought I’d see if he was down there for some reason. I was going to see him off if he was. I know he was great friends with Mother and Dad, but I didn’t like how he acted as if he lived here.”
“Go on.”
She took a deep breath. “I was only about halfway down the path when I heard voices, so I stayed close to the trees, in the shadows, until I could see who was coming.” She shook her head. “Oh, Drew, it was Mother. She was laughing, coming from the direction of the cottage with a bottle of wine in one hand and her clothes all rumpled. And he was back there. He’d been in the cottage with her. I could hear him telling her to hurry home before anyone knew she was gone. And she said they wouldn’t wait so long next time.”
“You didn’t see him come out, too?”
“Oh, no. I had to get back home before they knew I’d been there.”
“Neither of them saw you?” Drew asked. “And you didn’t say anything to your mother later?”
Joan looked down, shaking her head. “It was too awful. I couldn’t say anything.”
“That doesn’t mean she killed anyone,” Madeline said.
“But that’s not all,” Joan said. “The night Mr. Barnaby was killed, that Saturday night, Mother said she had a headache after dinner and went up to her room.”
“That’s what she told the police,” Drew said.
“Well, I was a little worried about her so I went up with her. She said she was out of her headache powders, so I went and got one of mine. She took it from me and said she was going straight to bed. I went to my room and got ready for bed myself. I read for a while, and when Agnes brought up my chocolate at ten, I told her Mother wasn’t feeling well and that I was going to go check on her. Agnes said she would do it if I liked, and I told her I would appreciate it very much.” She licked her dry lips. “It was just a minute or two before Agnes came back. She said Mother was in her bathroom with the door locked and wouldn’t answer her knock. I thought maybe she was really ill and couldn’t answer, so I went to see what was the matter. I didn’t get any answer either, so I rummaged in her bureau and found the key to the bathroom and opened the door. The bathroom was empty.”
“Where had she gone?”
“That’s the terrible thing about it. I don’t know. I told Agnes to search the house quietly, and I’d do the same. Neither of us could find her. I was looking in my father’s room when Agnes came and got me. She said Mother was in her bed, fast asleep.”
“What? Where had she been?”
“I don’t know. I started to wake her, but she was very soundly asleep, and I really didn’t want to disturb her. She hadn’t slept well since my father died. I thought maybe she’d been restless and had gone for a walk in the garden or something and then had come back and gone back to sleep. I didn’t think much of it until we heard Mr. Barnaby was murdered. Once we heard about that, I asked where she’d been.”
Drew raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Joan shook her head. “She told me she’d been asleep. From the time she lay down until her maid brought her tea the next morning, she hadn’t moved. I didn’t ask her about it after that. I . . . oh, I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to say anything because she just couldn’t have done something so horrible.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “But then I looked in the medicine cabinet there in her bathroom. She had almost half a box of those powders left.”
Drew glanced at Madeline, who looked at him round-eyed.
“The same sort she borrowed from you?” he asked. “The ones she said she was out of?”
Joan nodded fiercely.
“And what did you do next?”
“God forgive me, I took them and put them down my toilet. I didn’t want the police finding them. I didn’t think it could be what it looked like. I didn’t want to think it. But now that Jamie’s gone, I can’t go on lying. I can’t go on making excuses for her. If she lied about being in bed all night that night, what reason could she possibly have, that night of all nights, except that she did kill Mr. Barnaby? And why would she kill Mr. Barnaby unless he knew something she had to keep quiet. He’d already told about Dad’s new will, so it had to be something else. Something very serious.”
There was pain and pleading in her dark eyes, but Drew could offer her little comfort.
“Something like murder.”
Fifteen
Did you say anything to Agnes after your mother was taken away for questioning?” Drew asked quietly.
Madeline gave Joan a handkerchief, and she blotted her face and blew her nose.
“Actually, Agnes came to me. She said she knew my mother couldn’t have anything to do with what happened to Mr. Barnaby and she wasn’t going to say anything about her not being in her room the night he was killed, so I didn’t need to worry.”
Drew nodded. “I was just wondering if we might have her back in here for a moment.”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course.”
She rang for Twining, and a few minutes later the maid crept into the room, her pale blue eyes wide. “You wished to see me, Miss Joan?”
“I asked her to send for you, Agnes,” Drew said. “I’d like you to tell us about Saturday night.”
“What do you want to know, sir?”
“Just tell us what happened when you brought up Miss Joan’s chocolate.”
Agnes shrugged, a very poor attempt at nonchalance. “I brought it up about ten, sir, and then I went to help Molly with the last of the scrubbing. Saturday nights, Cook wants the whole kitchen cleaned top to bottom, and sometimes I help.”
“Where was Lady Rainsby at that time?”
“She said after dinner that she had a headache, and Miss Joan took her upstairs to lie down.”
“And when was the next time you saw her?” Drew asked.
“Well, I never saw her go out or come in after that, sir. I brought her breakfast the next morning, and she looked like she hadn’t slept well.”
Drew glanced at Joan. “Why do you say that?”
Agnes squirmed a little.
“She just looked sort of groggy-like and unsteady.”
“I see. Now, think very carefully, Agnes. Between the time you took Miss Joan her chocolate and the time you brought Lady Rainsby her breakfast Sunday morning, did you see Lady Rainsby?”
Agnes lifted her determined chin. “Miss Joan said she was worried about her mother, and I looked into her ladyship’s bedroom and saw she was sound asleep in her bed. That was the only time I saw her, sir.”
“Thank you, Agnes,” Drew said gently. “I believe you.”
The maid exhaled, her eyes immediately going to her young mistress, like a puppy’s looking for approval. Joan merely pressed her lips into a grim line.
“I want you to tell me one more thing, Agnes,” Drew said, “and I want you to tell me the truth. Still considering the time between when you brought Miss Joan her chocolate and when you brought up Lady Rainsby’s breakfast, was there a time when you looked into her ladyship’s bedroom and did not see her there?”
The maid licked her lips, deliberately looking away from Joan. “As I said, sir, I didn’t see her go out or come in after she went upstairs after dinner.”
“That wasn’t my question,” Drew said gravely. “Was there a time you looked in and saw that Lady Rainsby was not in her room?”
“I did look in once, as I think about it now, sir, and she wasn’t in her bed. But her bathroom door was closed, so it’s natural to assume she was in there.”
“And, since you and Miss Joan were concerned about her, did you knock to see if she needed anything?”
“Well, yes, sir, I did.”
“What answer did you get?”
Death at Thorburn Hall Page 21
