Snifter of Death

by Chris Karlsen

  He closed his sketch pad and put it up on the top shelf of his armoire, lest Luke get nosy. He was at that curious age and might be tempted to look through it when he came to empty the tub. Ruddy placed the photograph in his dresser drawer alongside his Victoria Cross. As he did, he wondered if Honeysuckle would pose in the nude for him one day.

  “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ruddy and Archie took the first train out from London to Guildford. They’d decided to interview Lloyd-Birch first rather than Finch. They hoped to learn something useful from him before they approached Finch again.

  “Such lovely countryside in Surrey,” Archie said. “I should bring Meg and the girls here one Sunday for a picnic.”

  “You should. What a world of difference considering how close the shire is to the city,” Ruddy said.

  They took a carriage for the short ride from the train station to the Lloyd-Birch estate. A combination of Tudor and Georgian architecture the windows were done in the Tudor fashion both paned and leaded and framed out in black wood. The rest of the exterior was red brick, too staid and boxy for Ruddy’s taste. They had the carriage wait.

  The butler led them out to the rear of the house and the area adjacent to the formal gardens where Harlan Lloyd-Birch was having tea with his daughter.

  “Detectives Bloodstone and Holbrook,” the butler gestured to each as he said their names.

  “Good day, detectives,” a man sitting in a wheelchair greeted them. The loud wheeze that trailed the greeting softened after a brief moment. In spite of the warm weather, a plaid blanket covered his legs. He appeared about forty years of age, which was the same as the other victims. He had a thick mane of bright ginger hair that was in stark contrast to his pale complexion.

  “Good day, Mr. Lloyd-Birch,” Ruddy returned.

  “This is my daughter, Frances.” Lloyd-Birch indicated a young woman in her early teens with equally fiery hair. “Frances, pour tea for us and then go on about your business while we talk.”

  After she left, Lloyd-Birch said, “Your message mentioned that you wanted to speak to me about my university days and the rowing crew. We were young men with a penchant for wildness that is common to youth. I didn’t care to discuss any indiscretions in front of Frances, in case they came up.”

  Archie explained they were considering the possibility that someone from their university past, someone with a grudge was executing his group of friends from the rowing team.

  “Can you think of anyone who disliked the four of you enough to carry a grudge this long?” Ruddy asked. “Someone on the team perhaps, someone incredibly jealous of the attention you and your friends received. You say you four were the best on the team and the most admired.”

  A faint smile touched his lips. “You wouldn’t know it to look at me now, but I was once one of the strongest rowers on the crew.” He sighed and went on, “Honestly, I can’t think of anyone who hated us with such venom. We were resented because we were fawned over. But hated enough to kill us? I don’t see it.” He finished his tea and offered to refresh the detective’s before he poured more for himself. “What mystifies me is the timeframe. You’re pursuing this avenue about the rowing crew and we’re speaking of sixteen years ago. Who, if someone hated us that much, would wait that long to murder us?”

  Ruddy and Archie had the same question. Neither had an answer that made sense.

  “We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us, Mr. Lloyd-Birch. I’d advise to you to take extra care in the next weeks. Perhaps hire additional security for your home and to accompany you if you go anywhere. Use caution with strangers who might approach you. Your former associates were poisoned. Be especially cautious about any food or drink brought into your home. It may come in the form of a gift.”

  “I will, Detective Bloodstone.”

  “Also, if you can think of any incident that might’ve been the root cause of someone wanting to take serious revenge, send us a message. Or if you think of anyone who menaced you or your friends at the time, we will investigate further.” Ruddy handed him his card. Archie did the same. “You have such beautiful formal gardens. I can’t help but to admire your gate into them. Would you mind if I take a closer look?”

  “No, walk around as much as you like.”

  “I’m surprised you want to see his gardens,” Archie commented to Ruddy when they were out of earshot of Lloyd-Birch. “We’ve been to fine homes with elegant gardens and you’ve never shown interest before.”

  “I’m not as much interested in the gardens as the iron gates. I couldn’t help noticing them as we were talking. Those on the border that I could see had incredible ironwork. I wanted a closer look.”

  As they strolled through the gardens, Ruddy stopped at every gate, wishing he had his sketch book. Each one had an individual design, most with elaborate floral patterns.

  “This is so striking,” he said of the one he liked the best, a series of cabbage roses on a vine. “I’m going to try and replicate this the next time I’m commissioned to do a gate for a client with a garden of this quality.”

  Archie stopped and took a deep breath. “Poor health aside, it’s understandable why a man would choose to live here instead of the city. The air is so sweet and fresh.”

  “It is,” Ruddy said, thinking that living in the city you forget how pleasant something as simple as the air is elsewhere. “It reminds me of home.” The valley where he grew up was lush and green and awash with waterfalls and streams. Honeysuckle was right. He missed Wales more than he realized and should go home for the holidays.

  Archie pulled his watch from his vest. “We should head for the station. The next train to London is in forty-five minutes.”

  “I’m ready to go.”

  From the train station in London, Ruddy and Archie went straight to Finch’s office. They asked him the same questions and received the same response. Finch couldn’t think of any enemy who’d resort to murder.

  ****

  At the end of his shift Ruddy picked up Winky and went to Honeysuckle’s hotel. She was working, but she’d made arrangements for him to wait in her room. All the front desk staff knew him by now. When he came with Winky a staff member sent word to the kitchen for scraps to be sent to the room.

  Ruddy and Honeysuckle shared a late dinner in her room that night. He told her about the disappointing interviews with Lloyd-Birch and Finch. He trusted her discretion and discussed the hope he and Arch had that something might come of the rowing team lead, however slim it might be considering the time delay.

  Honeysuckle relaxed back on the velvet sofa and propped stocking feet on the butler’s table. She’d removed her corset and wore a loose-fitting satin gown and deep blue silk robe with Chinese dragons embroidered on the front.

  “Is it possible one or more of your four men is or was a man who enjoyed the favors of both sexes?” she asked, sipping Moet champagne, her favorite.

  He and Archie had touched on the possibility of a jealous lover with Cross and Nurse Keating. They hadn’t explored the idea of a homosexual involvement.

  “Three of the men are married. I’d tend to exclude the fourth, Cross, who’s a bachelor. He frequented a local whore house and favored a young female prostitute there.” Ruddy figured if Cross had other leanings it would’ve come out when they were there.

  He wanted a moment to think on the other three so poured a tankard of beer and then joined Honeysuckle on the sofa. “The married men can be leading double lives, of course. It’s not that difficult especially for a wealthy man. I’d eliminate Lloyd-Birch mainly due to his health. He can’t handle the coal smoke air of the city. He also needs a wheelchair to get around.”

  “I never met Skinner. Nothing his family or his clerk said indicated any kind of relationship outside of his marriage. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t an expert at leading a double life.” Then there was Finch, who had something of a double life, if you count his affair with Keating.

/>   He took a large swallow of beer. “What made you think one of them might be having a, shall we say, forbidden relationship?”

  “The means the killer is using to murder the men. Poison is a feminine weapon.”

  Ruddy bent and gave her a kiss. “Now you’re thinking like a detective. Go on. I want to hear your thought process.”

  “If I were going to kill someone, I’d use poison. Guns are loud and you need to know how to handle them or you just wound your quarry. At least that’s what I’d be afraid of doing. Stabbing is bloody and messy. You have to get in too close and it’s too easy to be overcome and wind up on the wrong end of the knife.” Honeysuckle sipped more champagne and said, “Poison is simple and clean. Very ladylike.”

  “You’ve thought this out quite thoroughly. Should I worry that you’ve given murder such detailed analysis?”

  “Not yet.” She smiled that-the-Devil-is-a-woman-smile up at him.

  “If it is an intimate relationship we didn’t consider, I still haven’t an explanation for the time lapse. The victims haven’t socialized with each other since leaving university. There’s no reasonable cause for jealousy now. What is motivating these sudden attacks?”

  “Hmm, that’s a poser.”

  They sat silently drinking, trying to figure out how the time piece aberration fit the murder puzzle.

  Honeysuckle perked up. “Maybe it’s the sibling of a person they hurt in some way. A fellow student they relentlessly taunted. A sensitive soul who committed suicide or suffered cruelly while they were students together.”

  “And the sibling is getting revenge now? It’s been a decade and a half.”

  “The sibling might’ve been too young to do anything when the incidents occurred. I’m leaning towards them getting revenge for a brother committing suicide.”

  Both theories, the homosexual one and the cruelty one, had merit. Ruddy couldn’t offer a better one. Oxford was loaded with randy young men. It wouldn’t be unusual for many to find lusty satisfaction with those close at hand. The universities were also breeding grounds of snobbery. A poor soul attending on a scholarship or living on limited funds would be at the mercy of razor-tongued fellow students. He and Archie needed to interview Finch and Lloyd-Birch again. How interesting if it turned out to be a long held hatred that just wanted the right moment to surface.

  ****

  “No, none of us had any sodomite leanings,” Lloyd-Birch said. “You know the four of us went to Eton together.”

  “No, I didn’t know,” Ruddy told him. “Does that make a difference?”

  “Only in passing. As you might imagine, we were just coming into our teens at Eton, there might have been some interaction. Touching, kissing, perhaps a bit more. You’re naturally curious at that age. But nothing that carried over into the university time.”

  “If one of the others did engage in a relationship of that kind, would they have told the other three in your group?” Archie asked.

  Lloyd-Birch thought before answering. “I’m not sure. That said, I don’t think it is something you can hide, not from friends as close as we were. I’m afraid I haven’t been much help again.”

  “Actually you have, eliminating theories is as important as proving them,” Ruddy said. He and Archie stood to leave. “If you think of any person you had a serious negative encounter with at the time, you have our cards, get a message to us.”

  “Of course. The butler will show you out.”

  “At least he was more honest than Finch about their possible sexual experimenting,” Archie said after they were settled into the carriage.

  “I never expected much from Finch. He’ll have to get truly scared before he really cooperates.”

  “I don’t know about your school, but at my school in Yorkshire, the lads kept their curiosity to themselves,” Archie said. “What about yours?”

  “Please, Brecon is a small village. We only had two rooms to our school. Lads did not secretly go about touching other lads just to see what it felt like. You’d get a not so secret punch in the nose.

  Ruddy had preferred the vengeful sibling theory. It solved the more daunting problems in the case. He had it in his head that a waiter in one of their clubs recognized one of them. Hurtful memories were triggered and were acted upon. It was perfect motivation or would’ve been. “I wish he or Finch remembered someone they’d bullied.”

  “I wonder if they did bully someone but because they were toffs, they didn’t see their actions for what they were. I mean, consider Finch. He truly believes himself superior. I don’t doubt he’s always believed it’s his right to treat people he thinks lesser beings anyway he wishes.”

  The waiter idea hung in the back of Ruddy’s mind on the ride to the station. Maybe his frustration with their lack of progress kept him circling back to the revenge theory, frustration with a healthy dose of desperation and a stubborn unwillingness not to follow every possible lead.

  “Let’s go along with the revenge theory. I don’t care that Finch and Lloyd-Birch claim they’re innocent of ugly behavior. What do you think of the idea that our killer is a service person of some sort, a waiter or doorman at one of the clubs the men belong to, someone in that capacity? He works somewhere and saw one of the men.”

  “Has merit. The question is did the killer make contact in some unremarkable way prior to the murders, some way the victims didn’t find suspicious?”

  “I believe he had to since he accessed Cross’s brandy, he knew the layout of Skinner’s office and knew where to find Finch. Tomorrow let’s see if Skinner, Finch, and Cross had a new client, the same new client.”

  “Yes,” Archie said with sudden optimism. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we missed a clue so obvious?”

  “Funny, a little embarrassing, but I’d be mighty grateful nonetheless.”

  ****

  Ruddy and Archie went to Skinner’s office first.

  “No, Mr. Skinner hadn’t acquired any new clients, not for the past several months,” Mr. Button told them.

  Not the news the detectives hoped to hear. Ruddy didn’t see much point in checking with Cross’s associates. Cross handled commercial accounts and the detectives doubted their possible revenge suspect fell into the same financial category as the rest of Cross’s clients. But if nothing turned up at Finch’s, they’d go to the bank just out of thoroughness.

  “We have another party to interview. Should some additional information come from that and we need to speak with you again, will you still be here? I’m surprised to find the office open today,” Ruddy said to Button.

  “The office isn’t technically open. I’m here tidying up the unresolved cases of Mr. Skinner’s and referring them to other solicitors. In answer to your question, I will be here all day and for the rest of the week,” Button said. “Best of luck detectives. I hope you do discover more information. Mr. Skinner deserves justice.”

  They took a carriage to Finch’s rather than the tram, which made too many stops. Both Ruddy and Archie were anxious to either uncover something worthwhile.

  Finch was civil to them, for once. “Although I treat both men and women, the only new patient I have acquired recently was a woman.”

  Honeysuckle’s words from the other night struck Ruddy like Napier’s left hook. Poison is simple and clean. Very ladylike. Could their killer be a woman?

  Archie poked Ruddy in the ribs with his elbow. “Ruddy, you’re staring.”

  “What if it’s a woman?”

  “Never crossed my mind,” Archie said, shaking his head. “Interesting and possible now that you mention it.”

  “When did you acquire this new patient?” Ruddy asked Finch.

  “A week before Nurse Keating’s murder. Are you suggesting my patient might’ve murdered Nurse Keating?”

  “We don’t know. Maybe. She’s someone of interest to us, most certainly. We’d like all the information you have on her,” Ruddy said.

  Finch pulled a ledger from the lobby desk drawer. “Here. She
is the companion to Esther Zachary of Belgrave Square. This is her house number. Mrs. Zachary is a patient of an associate of mine, Dr. Fitzhugh. The woman goes by the name of Graciela Robson. I’m not sure what else you wish to know. She came to me suffering headaches.”

  “Have you seen her since Nurse Keating’s death?” Archie asked as he wrote down her information.

  “Now that you ask, no I haven’t.”

  “Describe her for us, please,” Ruddy said and took out his notebook and a pencil. He began to sketch on the small pad as Finch described Robson. Every so often he stopped to show the drawing to Finch to verify he had her features right.

  Finch finished. “What happens now?”

  Ruddy tucked the notebook back into his coat pocket. “We will show this picture to another possible witness. Whether he says he’s seen her or not, we’re going to interview her.”

  They went from Finch’s straight back to Skinner’s office and showed the drawing to Button.

  “Goodness me, I know that woman.” Button looked from Ruddy to Archie and back. “She came in with a story about a dithery aunt. She asked a few questions about Mr. Skinner’s practice. She never filled out our forms. She said she’d bring them back but never did.”

  “When was this?” Ruddy asked.

  Button recoiled, eyes wide. “Just before Mr. Skinner’s death. Why? Do you think she’s involved? A woman?”

  “We’re not ruling anyone out,” Archie reassured him.

  “Good luck detectives.”

  Archie stepped off the curb and hailed a cab. “Zachary’s next?”

  “Yes, let’s talk to Mrs. Zachary first, get some background on Robson before we interview her.”

  “We’ve never had a female murderer,” Archie commented as they settled into their seats in the cab. “If she did it, that is.”

  “She’s our killer. It’ll be interesting to find out why,” Ruddy said, genuinely curious.

  ****

  Esther Zachary’s butler showed Ruddy and Archie to the parlor. Ruddy immediately noticed the room wasn’t private. The entry was an archway open to the main corridor of the townhome.