An Old Money Murder in Mayfair

by Sara Rosett

  My feet, now shod in my most comfortable shoes, were propped on a tufted footstool and angled toward the fire. I sipped the coffee, and the hot liquid blazed through me, giving me a shot of adrenaline.

  Thank goodness I’d made it to my room without encountering anyone. The sight of me still in my gold evening gown would have raised eyebrows, not to mention questions. I’d bathed and changed into the darkest, most somber dress I’d brought with me, a crepe de chine day dress in navy with seed pearl buttons and white piping. Gigi had also changed. Her elegant black silk dress whispered as she kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her skirt.

  I’d given Gigi a summary of what I’d overheard in the dining room. She held the coffee cup at chin level and looked at me over it. “Inspector Thorn doesn’t seriously think that Felix could have done it.”

  “You don’t think he could have?”

  “No, of course not.” She spoke quickly and with complete assurance. “If Felix finds a spider in the bath, he traps it with a glass and paper, then carries it to the garden and releases it.”

  “But you were concerned about him. I noticed the way your gaze tracked him in the drawing room that first day I was here.”

  Her manner changed. “That was different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She frowned into her cup, then said in a guarded tone, “I was worried he might harm himself.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “He’s a sensitive sort. Granny’s high-handedness about the review could have sent him into one of his melancholy dips. But he always comes out of it. You saw him at Grafton Galleries—happy as a lark. And you said he’s been hard at work—according to Clara, typing away—so he couldn’t have done it.”

  “But if having a successful play means so much to him, it does give him a motive. And he was clearly concerned that the inspector would see him as a potential suspect.”

  Gigi sipped from her cup, unperturbed. “Felix always has been a worrier. Once he emerged from his writing cocoon, he realized that he could be seen as a suspect, so of course he tried to head off the suspicion. But he had nothing to gain. He’s not named in Granny’s will.”

  “Dowd seemed sure your grandmother intended to change her will.”

  Gigi made a face, the corners of her mouth turning down as she swallowed a sip of coffee. “As I said, Granny was forever threatening to change her will. She never did.”

  “But you can’t be sure of that.”

  “Of course I can. I even asked Benny about it once.” I must have looked confused because she said, “Mr. Tower, from dinner. We saw him at Grafton Galleries. You remember him? Not attractive, but stalwart and diplomatic.”

  “Gigi! He’s a perfectly fine-looking man.”

  “Darling, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that next to Captain Inglebrook, Benny is rather pedestrian—his face, that is. Benny does have the most delightfully broad shoulders.” She grinned. “I believe I’ll tell him that someday just to see his reaction. But back to the point.” She put her cup down and reached for a cigarette. “I asked Benny how many times Granny had changed her will, and he said not once.” She snapped the lighter shut and blew a stream of smoke away from me. “Never! Dozens and dozens of times she threatened to change it, and she never did it. I can’t believe she would actually do it now.”

  Gigi rested the cigarette on the ashtray and went to crack a window open. She plopped back down and picked up the cigarette. “I do miss my darling cigarette holder.” She extended her hand, her palm and fingers flat as if she was admiring a ring, but it was the cigarette balanced between her fingers that she considered. “It’s not nearly as elegant when one uses one’s fingers to hold a cigarette. So, back to Felix,” she said between puffs, “I promise you that he was only thinking about his play, nothing else the day Granny was poisoned.”

  “I’m not so sure about Felix. Whether he was typing all day or not, he was in the house and had the opportunity to add arsenic to the dowager’s food.”

  “Arsenic!” Gigi shook her head as she took a drag on the cigarette. “It’s too fantastic-making.” She exhaled. “But it does no good to dwell on what can’t be changed. That was one of Granny’s favorite sayings, so let’s focus on the here and now.” Her tone became brisk. “Dowd was next, you said. I’m sure she’s ready to measure my neck for the hangman’s noose.”

  “She does dislike you.”

  “That is putting it mildly.”

  “Do you think she could have done it?”

  “Dowd poison Granny? Definitely not.” Gigi shook her head so hard her short wisps of hair bounced against her cheeks. “Dowd was frightfully loyal to Granny.”

  “Even if Dowd had a legacy coming?”

  “She doesn’t. Granny made that clear. She paid her servants well—extremely well—so there’s no motive there. And now she’s out of a job. No, it doesn’t make sense for Dowd to have done it.”

  “Well, Clara’s out of a job now too.”

  “Yes, poor thing. I’m sure we can find something else for her to do.” Gigi picked up the box of Fortley’s Chocolates. She offered me one, but I shook my head. She took out a piece and examined it as she spoke. “Who am I forgetting? You said the inspector questioned Stella as well?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think he suspected her. He simply wanted information from her.”

  Gigi nodded as she chewed, then said, “That makes sense. Stella didn’t have many interactions with Granny, and I don’t see how Stella would benefit from Granny’s death. But Addie—I can see her being furious. Granny has ruined everything for Addie.”

  I tilted my head. “Did she, though?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Apparently Rollo’s parents would have been opposed to the match since they want him to marry money. The dowager simply sped things along.”

  Gigi dusted a chocolate fleck from her fingers. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “And what good would killing the dowager do?” I asked.

  She tilted the open chocolate box toward me again. “You’re sure you don’t want one?”

  I shook my head, and Gigi pressed the lid onto the chocolate box and tossed it into the rubbish bin. “I only allow myself one piece. Otherwise, I’d never fit into my dresses.”

  As she returned to her seat, I said, “Rollo has been sent away. Harming the dowager wouldn’t change anything.”

  “Revenge.” Gigi stubbed out the cigarette. “Never underestimate the power of revenge.”

  “Do you think Addie would do that?” Gigi knew Addie better than I did. Addie’s sunny disposition didn’t mesh with the idea of seeking vengeance. But Addie’s voice had been firm, and she’d been completely serious when she’d said she was glad the dowager was dead.

  “I don’t think so, but I don’t know her extremely well. She’s been very cheerful—buoyant, even—but that might be the haze of love. Once that was taken away—well, I suppose it’s possible she could have decided she wanted to strike out at the dowager. But how could she know where the arsenic was kept?”

  “She could have bought it from a chemist herself. I’m sure that’s something Thorn will check.”

  Gigi sighed. “I don’t really think anyone at Alton House did it. Did the inspector ask anyone about Granny being afraid?”

  “No. It doesn’t seem he’ll pursue that. But I think that may be where the answer is.”

  “I agree. I’ve already written a note to Dr. Benhurst. He’ll have the exact date that both Granny and I were ill, but I do remember that we both ate the same meal that evening, lamb cutlets and new carrots with curry. Felix dined with us that evening as well. He didn’t have any ill effects. The servants’ lamb stew was made with the same ingredients, and none of them became sick.”

  “Did you suspect something at that time? Is that why Dr. Benhurst was sent for?”

  “No, it was more to placate Granny. I thought she was overreacting, but I did ask Mrs. Monce if anyone else had eaten the s
ame food. When I realized it was just Granny and I who were sick, I had Elrick ring up Dr. Benhurst. He said Granny and I had a touch of the flu, so I wrote it off.”

  “What about the motorcar?”

  Gigi walked over to the window and stared out, her arms crossed. “I’ve thought and thought about it this morning, and I can’t remember anything else. It all happened so quickly. We were walking along, and I heard an engine. It was on the periphery of my awareness, if you know what I mean. I didn’t think a thing about it, but then someone near us cried out, and I realized the engine sounded louder. I turned, and the headlamps were pointed at us. I grabbed Granny’s arm, and we darted to the side of the pavement. But by that point, the motorcar had swerved back toward the road. It roared past us and kept going.”

  “What color was the motor?”

  Gigi was still gazing out the window. “It might have been dark brown or black. I’m not sure. I focused on Granny, making sure she was all right. I can’t even say for sure what kind of motor it was.”

  “And you’re sure you didn’t see the driver? Even a glimpse?”

  “No. Once I saw the motorcar pointed at us, I concentrated on getting us away from the street.”

  “Do you remember where it happened?”

  “Hardcastle Street. Granny was so shaken up that we went into a little tea shop and sat down for a moment. I ordered her a cup of tea so she could recover.”

  “Then let’s go there. Being on the spot might help you remember.”

  Gigi turned from the window. “Excellent idea. Waiting here is beastly.”

  The day was cloudless. As we walked along in the sunshine, it didn’t feel extremely cold. I didn’t even put on my gloves as we walked to Hardcastle Street. Gigi said, “Look at all these people out and about at such a wretchedly early hour.”

  “Gigi, it’s nearly noon.”

  A grin turned up the corners of her mouth. “As I said, a wretchedly early hour.”

  “Anything look familiar?”

  She paused, looking up and down the street. “No. Let’s go a little farther.” We strolled on, passing a tea shop. After another block, she stopped again. “I have no idea if it happened here. It could’ve been near that tea shop back there, but I’m not sure. I just don’t know, and nothing is prompting my memory.”

  “Let’s go back to the tea shop. Maybe they’ll remember you.”

  A bell chimed as we walked inside the crowded shop. Gigi stepped forward to stop a waitress on her way to a customer, but I caught Gigi’s arm and nodded to a table.

  “Let’s order. It’s always better to spend some money before one asks questions,” I said as a waitress with spectacles too big for her face came to our table.

  But when the waitress returned with our tea, I asked her if she remembered an incident of two women nearly being run down by a motor. She shook her head. “I’ve only worked here for a week. Let me get Harriet.” She called another woman, who was slightly older and had an impatient air about her.

  The woman glanced at Gigi and nodded. “Yes, I remember. I recognize your coat.” She dipped her head toward Gigi’s sable. “Right gorgeous, it is. And you were with an older woman, a lady in a fine hat with osprey feathers.”

  “That’s right,” Gigi said. “What a good memory you have. That was my grandmother. We’d had a bit of a scare in the road. A motorcar had swerved toward us. Did you see it?”

  The woman’s attention turned to another table as a customer signaled her. “No. We’re too busy to take notice of anything outside. I don’t have time for that sort of thing.” The woman turned away after casting another glance over Gigi’s coat.

  We finished our toast and tea, then resumed our walk. After several paces, Gigi halted. “This is useless, Olive. I’m not going to suddenly remember something.”

  “Olive!”

  We both turned in the direction of the shout. Jasper, in a gray double-breasted wool overcoat, waved from across the street. He waited for a break in the traffic, then jogged across the road.

  “My,” Gigi said as we headed to meet him, “he’s anxious to see you.”

  “Not me, I’m sure.”

  “Darling, Jasper doesn’t run as a rule.”

  “Only during treasure hunts.”

  “And when he’s trying to catch up to you,” Gigi whispered as he approached.

  Jasper lifted his fedora as he greeted us, and his fair wavy hair sprung up from where it had been slicked down under his hat. “Olive, old bean. Gigi, old thing.”

  “Hello, Jasper,” I said, thinking that his man, Grigsby, wouldn’t approve of the casual way Jasper crammed his hat back on his head.

  “I just heard the news about the dowager at my club. Dashed sorry, Gigi. Terrible thing to happen.”

  “Thank you, Jasper. It’s too, too horrible. I’m quite sure I’ll wake up in a moment and this whole thing will have been a dream, but at the same time, it’s too real. Thank goodness I have Olive here to help me sort out what really happened. Now, it’s lovely to see you, Jasper, but I must send a telegram to my parents. Would you be a dear and escort Olive home?”

  “There’s no need—” I said.

  “It would be my pleasure.” Jasper gave me a long look.

  They were just words—polite words—but for some reason hearing him say “my pleasure” made my insides do a little dance.

  “Wonderful!” Gigi said goodbye to Jasper and me, then she turned so that only I could see her wink at me. She strode away, her sable coat flaring out as she raised an arm for a taxicab. Gigi never had a problem finding an empty one. A taxi crossed a lane of traffic and halted at her side. “Have fun, you two,” she called before slamming the door.

  Jasper offered his arm. “I want to hear all about it, of course, but this is perhaps not an ideal place to discuss a poisoning.”

  “You heard about that as well?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yes, that was the bit I heard first—a poisoning in a Mayfair mansion. The news is probably all over London by this time.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” The details were salacious. Of course the story was spreading quickly.

  “We’re not far from Gunter’s. Would you care to join me for tea?”

  I was actually awash in tea and coffee, but I did want to talk everything over with him. He was an excellent sounding board. “Capital idea.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Once we were settled at our table at Gunter’s and had been served our ice cream and finger sponge cakes with pink icing, Jasper said, “It sounds as if this new case has turned out to be something different than you expected.”

  “Very much so.” I told him about how Gigi had engineered it so that I would be able to overhear Thorn’s interviews. “I know it’s not cricket, but we did learn some very useful information . . . although Gigi refuses to believe anyone in Alton House could have had anything to do with the dowager’s death.”

  “No?”

  “She’s sure it was someone from the outside, mostly because of the motorcar incident, I think. It’s too cold for ice cream. Would you like mine?” I offered my bowl to Jasper.

  “Grigsby will make tutting noises and tell me my waistcoat is too tight tomorrow, I’m sure, but I make it a motto to never turn down food a lady has offered me.” He reached for his spoon. “You seem hesitant to agree with Gigi’s assessment that those close to the family are in the clear.”

  “I feel that somehow everything loops back to Alton House.” I looked beyond the customers to the gray and white of the trunks of the plane trees across the road in Berkeley Square. The sunlight picked out the thick bare limbs and fine tiny twigs, creating a tracery against the pale blue sky. “I wish I knew more about the people involved. I’ve only just met Felix, Clara, and Addie—and I’ve only spoken to Stella and Dowd a few times.”

  “I could make some inquiries about Felix at school and Clara’s wartime work. Perhaps she wasn’t telling you the whole story about her time at the hospital.”
>
  “Would you, Jasper? That would be wonderful.” I’d learned from a previous case that sometimes the background of a person was as important as their present circumstances. “I’ll contact Boggs this afternoon and ask if he can find out anything about Stella and Mrs. Dowd.”

  “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

  I’d met Boggs during another investigation. With his ability to move nimbly up and down the strata of society, he’d become invaluable in gathering information.

  “So you have no qualms about looking into this?”

  “I promised to help Gigi. She wrote off her grandmother’s worries, and now look what’s happened. I must keep my promise and help her. Then there’s Thorn. He seems reluctant to look beyond Gigi.”

  Jasper swirled the spoon through the melting ice cream, his face thoughtful. “The dowager never actually changed her will, despite broadcasting her intention to do so?”

  “Gigi doesn’t think so.”

  Jasper scraped the last of the ice cream onto his spoon. “If it was known the dowager never changed her will, then why was she poisoned?”

  “That is a very good question. If her death isn’t related to the will, then what was it about?”

  Jasper’s spoon jangled as he settled it in the empty bowl and leveled his gaze at me. “It sounds as if you and Gigi discussed all the suspects except one.”

  “You mean Gigi herself.”

  “I don’t like to bring it up. I know she’s a close friend, but she was in the house as well.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind, but one doesn’t blurt out a question like, Gigi, you didn’t poison your grandmother, did you? It’s just not done.”