An Old Money Murder in Mayfair

by Sara Rosett

  “He’s done it before.” I picked up a clean sheet of typing paper and slipped it under the edge of the penknife.

  “Well, in that case . . .” Jasper took out his handkerchief and brushed the flakes onto the sheet of paper. I folded the paper, creating a little packet and slipped it into an envelope that I found in the desk. The envelope just fit into the pocket of my dress.

  A quick look through the rest of the drawers turned up receipts, notebooks with jottings so difficult to read they might as well have been hieroglyphics, and other miscellany, but none of it was of interest to us.

  Jasper picked up his hat and followed me into the hallway as I headed for the servants’ stairs. “We’d better hurry. I’d hate for Dowd to arrive back while I’m poking about in her room.” Jasper followed me up the stairs, his footfalls echoing. “Can’t you walk more quietly?” I asked.

  “Why? Everyone left, didn’t they? You don’t have to creep.”

  “I suppose so, but one feels as if one should creep along as silently as possible.”

  We reached the top floor, and I led the way down the narrow, bare wood corridor. “I don’t know exactly which room is Dowd’s,” I said, “but she was standing nearest this one when everyone was gathered outside Stella’s room.” I peeked into the room. It was arranged exactly as Stella’s room had been, except there was only one bed. A rocking chair sat by the window with a shawl draped across the arm. A spirit stove and single teacup rested on the bedside table. The room must belong to a senior servant. The maids would share a room, and I doubted they’d be allowed to have a spirit stove.

  A rope rug covered the floor, and an ivory-backed toilet set rested on the dresser with an oval mirror. A pink dressing gown with frills hung on a peg behind the door. “This is Dowd’s room. I recognize the dressing gown.” I stepped inside tentatively.

  “Not much to look at here,” Jasper said, going to the table near the rocker.

  The small space with the low ceiling felt claustrophobic with both of us in it, and I was very aware of the scent of Jasper’s lime aftershave.

  I had a quick look through the dresser drawers, feeling even worse about snooping here than I had downstairs. Servants had so little privacy. Nosing about in their belongings seemed an even greater wrong than looking around the other bedrooms. The dresser contained only clothing, all of it simply cut and in sturdy fabrics. I pushed the bottom drawer closed as Jasper said, “Nothing of interest here.”

  “Yes, I agree—” I’d half turned away from the dresser, but I swung back around to fully face it. Bottles and jars were lined up in front of the mirror, including separate bottles of rose and lavender skin creams, as well as powder. It was the small glass bottles of medicine that I’d noticed. One was a medicine for coughs, and the other was a tonic. “Look, this one has arsenic in it. It’s listed on the label.”

  Jasper peered over my shoulder. “Arsenic has a long history of ‘medical’ use. Remember the arsenic eaters nibbling away on it, not just for glossy hair and pale skin, but for longevity and stamina—at least that’s what the proponents say.” He squinted at the small print on the label. “The amount is fairly low, though. It wouldn’t be lethal unless she reduced it . . .” Jasper trailed off as he followed my gaze to the spirit stove on the side table. “Another bit of evidence for the inspector, then.”

  Jasper handed me his handkerchief, and I wrapped up the small bottle and tucked it into my other pocket. “Quite a collection you’re assembling there. Are you going to take away the teapot too?”

  “No. That would definitely be noticed.”

  “Dowd might notice the tonic bottle is gone.”

  “I’ll find something in the bath and replace it.” In the cupboard in the servant’s bath, I found a bottle of a similar color and size. It was clear glass, just like the tonic bottle, but it contained a quarter inch of mouthwash. Hopefully, Dowd wouldn’t notice her tonic had been switched for mouthwash before I could turn in my evidence to Thorn. “Come on, let’s not linger here.”

  I descended the narrow stairs, my feet clattering against the wood. I wasn’t worried about making noise now. I wanted to get back into the main part of the house before anyone returned from the funeral. The servants would arrive back first so they could open the house, and I was glad when we were back in the hallway with the thick carpet muffling our steps. Silence still permeated the air of Alton House. “They’re not back,” I said and headed for the main staircase.

  “What did you find in Gigi’s room?” Jasper asked when we were about halfway down the first flight of stairs.

  “I didn’t look through her room.”

  Jasper didn’t say anything, only raised an eyebrow.

  “There’s no need.”

  Jasper sighed. “You’re so fiercely loyal, Olive. You haven’t had a single doubt about Gigi?”

  It was my turn to sigh. I did an about-face and tromped up the stairs. “It’s very annoying when you point out things like this, you know.”

  “Sorry. Duty as a friend, and all that. I do like Gigi, but you know the first rule of detection—”

  “Everyone is a suspect. Yes, yes. Although, I do have to point out, you’ve gleaned these rules from detective fiction.”

  “Have they steered you wrong?”

  “No,” I said with another gusty sigh. “Gigi’s room is rather a hike. We turn here and keep going.”

  Once we came to Gigi’s room, Jasper took the sitting room while I looked around the bedroom. He finished before I did and appeared in the doorway. “Anything?”

  “Nothing. Gigi’s collection of dresses rivals the stock of a fashion house. Of course, it should. Most of the frocks and gowns came from the best Parisian designers. Her hat boxes contain nothing but hats. Just the usual scent and cosmetics and fashion magazines on her dressing table.”

  “Well, then. It seems your trust in Gigi is vindicated. I’m sure you want to share your findings with Thorn—”

  “I’m not actually anxious to do that at all.” I could already imagine his reaction. Words like interfering and busybody would be prominent in his vocabulary, I was sure. “Especially since I don’t have any idea who actually poisoned the dowager or Stella.”

  “Well, then. How about that cup of tea? I have a few things to share that you might find helpful in sorting it all out.”

  “Brilliant. I’ll get my coat.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “It’s not quite the Savoy,” Jasper said as he sipped his tea.

  “No, but the scones and company are wonderful.”

  In the interest of time, we’d decided to go to a nearby tea shop instead of The Savoy. Unlike the hotel’s airy glass-domed ceiling, white latticed gazebo, and starched tablecloths, the tea shop where we were seated was small and cozy. Instead of the subdued hum of conversation and click of china, this tea shop was filled with animated chatter, the scrape of chair legs on the wooden floor, and the scent of freshly baked bread.

  I’d put the latch on the door at Alton House so that it would lock behind us when we left. Then we’d taken a short walk to the tea shop, the wind dragging at our coats and scarves.

  Jasper pushed his cup and saucer away and took out a notebook from an inner pocket of his jacket. “You were right about Clara.” He removed a sheet of paper and handed it across the table. It was covered with Jasper’s precise handwriting. I skimmed it as I layered strawberry jam and clotted cream on my warm scone.

  “I was able to confirm that Clara did indeed work at an officers’ hospital during the War. Her duties included washing up in the canteen as well as sweeping and mopping the wards.”

  “So, she was telling the truth.” The news confirmed the statements from the servants that Boggs had given me.

  “Yes. She went on from there to work at an airfield.”

  “As a motor mechanic,” I said, reading from the list before biting into the scone.

  Jasper placed his finger on the last line on the page. “I think you’ll find this
detail quite intriguing, considering what you have knocking around in your pockets.”

  I still had the envelope and the tonic bottle with me. I certainly wasn’t going to leave them in my room at Alton House. The only option was to carry them around.

  I read the last line and sat back in my chair, stunned. “Dowd worked at a dispensary during the War?”

  “That’s right. She helped make up the tonics and medicines. She volunteered three times a week for over two years.”

  “Oh my. Then she would have a very specialized knowledge about poisons and medicines.”

  “Quite. I would have mentioned it sooner, but you were so intent on getting out of Dowd’s room that I thought I’d wait. Unfortunately, I couldn’t turn up anything else about the other names on your list. Felix was too young to serve or volunteer. He was a model student at school, so nothing of interest to report there. Addie falls into that same category of being too young to have been involved in the War. Gigi as well.”

  “Yes, I’m sure Addie and Gigi were like me, rolling bandages and knitting.”

  “Knitting? Gigi?”

  “Every bit counts. Even the poorly knitted gloves and socks were appreciated—at least, that’s what I was told. Mine were rather atrocious. I actually felt sorry for the poor soldiers who received my efforts. I’m sure they were the laughingstocks of their regiments.”

  “Never underestimate the importance of a care package when you’re on the front lines. Even poorly knitted socks are better than nothing at all.”

  “I suppose so. But thank goodness morale didn’t depend entirely on my knitting efforts. We would have been in dire trouble indeed if it did.” I folded Jasper’s note and put it in my handbag with the other note I had from Boggs. Jasper called for the bill.

  On our walk back to Alton House, Jasper said, “You’re very quiet.”

  “I’ve gathered quite a lot of details about everyone at Alton House, yet nothing points conclusively to one person over the other. It’s frustrating. And a little frightening. Someone in that house is a murderer twice over.”

  “A point in favor of you removing to your new flat straightaway.”

  I’d told Jasper about my new flat while we waited for our tea. “Yes, once I’ve signed the paperwork and have the key, I’ll move. It wouldn’t be the done thing to stay on, but I do dislike leaving Gigi. She’s sure she’ll be named next week at the inquest into Stella’s death.”

  “Is there any solid evidence?” Jasper asked as we turned the corner and Alton House came into sight.

  “She says her fingerprints will be on the chocolate box, but of course it was delivered to her.”

  “Well, then.” He waved a hand. “A good solicitor can mitigate the impact of that detail.”

  “And then there’s the dowager’s will. If Gigi does inherit her grandmother’s fortune, that detail will be put down as her motive.”

  “But they haven’t figured out yet exactly what the dowager ate—or drank—that was poisoned?”

  We’d been pacing briskly along, but I halted. Jasper carried on for a step, then turned back as I said, “You’re right. The dowager’s death is the key to the whole thing. Stella’s death is just an offshoot.” I resumed walking, and Jasper fell into pace beside me. “I must refocus on the dowager. That’s where the answers lie.”

  We’d reached the stone balustrade that separated the small forecourt of Alton House from the road. Inside, I could see figures moving about through the windows. The funeral was over and everyone had returned. I was glad I didn’t have to perch on the balustrade and wait for someone to open the door for me. I thanked Jasper for tea and was turning away when he said, “Olive.”

  I turned back, arrested at the seriousness of his gaze.

  “I realize you quite like the puzzle aspect of this sort of thing.”

  “Yes, and I have you to thank for it. You’re the one who introduced me to crime fiction.”

  “That I did.” He grinned briefly, then turned grave again. “Don’t forget someone in Alton House is desperate to keep anyone from discovering they poisoned the dowager. Promise me you’ll leave if you sense the slightest whiff of danger directed at you.”

  “Obviously, they don’t have much to fear from me. I can’t work out who it is. I’m completely flummoxed.” He frowned at my joke, so I went back to him and squeezed his hand. “I promise I’ll be extremely careful. If I have the least sense of worry or misgiving, I’ll leave.”

  Lillian opened the door for me. “Good afternoon, Miss Belgrave.” The heavy silence had dispersed, and Alton House had an air of busyness. Servants were moving back and forth, carrying trays into the dining room.

  “Hello, Lillian. Where is Elrick?”

  She took my coat as I slipped out of it, then added my handbag, gloves, and hat to her load. “He’s in the library with Inspector Thorn. The inspector insisted that the furniture be rearranged. Mr. Elrick is overseeing it.”

  “Inspector Thorn is here?”

  “Yes.” Her tone wavered on the single word, then her chin quivered and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Lillian? What is it?”

  She gulped. “It’s—” She broke off and shook her head as a sob escaped her pinched lips.

  “Oh my.” I put my arm around her and led her to the small waiting room off the entry where visitors were escorted to wait while Elrick inquired to see if the family was “at home.”

  I closed the door, guided her to a chair, then took back my pile of belongings from her. She was sniffling and apologizing and made a move to stand.

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “No, take a moment to compose yourself.” I removed a handkerchief from my handbag and gave it to her before sitting across from her. “You’ve been through a distressing time. I won’t tell anyone about this.”

  “Thank you.” She nodded, the handkerchief pressed to her eyes. After a moment, she removed the handkerchief and let out a shuddering breath before glancing over her shoulder at the door. “I beg your pardon, miss. I should go.”

  Poor girl. She’d witnessed her friend die, and now she’d attended a funeral. No wonder she was overwrought. “Stay a moment. Funerals can be very disturbing.”

  “Oh, it’s not the funeral. None of us liked the dowager—” Her eyes widened. “I mean—”

  “It’s all right. You don’t have to explain. I’m well familiar with the dowager’s personality. But if it wasn’t the funeral, why are you upset?”

  She hesitated as she searched my face. “I—um—I lied—to the inspector.” After her initial hesitations, her words poured out. “I didn’t sleep at all last night for worrying about it, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “What did you lie about?”

  “The cameo.” She twisted the handkerchief. “It was just that he was so certain Stella was a thief, but she wasn’t like that. She wasn’t. And she’d been kind to me. She helped me when I was first taken on here. She gave me little hints about things—who to avoid because they were in a temper, that kind of thing. Anyway, I couldn’t let the inspector think Stella would steal something. She wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t. It would be her job, for one thing. But the inspector was so sure of himself, and Stella had just died so horribly. It was terrible—her being so sick, and then she kept talking about the marmalade. Off her head, she was. It was the pain. And when Lady Gina got there, Stella couldn’t hardly speak, it was so bad. I couldn’t let Stella’s family think she’d done something so wrong and gone barmy before she died. So I said that Stella told me she’d found the cameo and would give it to Mrs. Monce.” The words stopped as if a tap had been shut off.

  “And that was a lie?”

  “Well, in a way, yes. She said more, but I didn’t tell the inspector.” The linen tightened as Lillian twisted it. “Stella did say she would return the cameo, but she also said it was just the beginning, that it was a tiny portion of what she’d be able to get.”

  “Those were her exact words?” I asked, stunned.


  Lillian focused on the tips of her toes. She seemed to be thinking back, and after a moment, she looked up. “Yes, that’s right. When I said how pretty it was, she laughed and said, ‘This is just the beginning. I’ll be able to get much more than this.’ She wouldn’t say anything else, but she had an air about her, like she had a great secret inside, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Miss?”

  Facts and ideas rearranged themselves in my mind, shifting into a new pattern, one that I hadn’t seen before. It was like looking at a piece from a jigsaw puzzle and realizing I’d been trying to force it into the wrong place.

  I became aware that Lillian had spoken. “Sorry, what was that?”

  “Do you think I should tell the inspector?”

  “Yes, I think you’ll have to. I’ll be happy to sit with you when you tell him, if you’d like.”

  “Oh, would you? Thank you, Miss Belgrave.”

  “I’m sure you won’t have an opportunity to speak to him until after the will is read. Try not to worry about it until then.”

  “I must get back before Mr. Elrick or Mrs. Monce misses me.” She took my coat, handbag, gloves, and hat. She half reached out to return the handkerchief, then drew back. “I’ll have this laundered and returned to you.”

  “Wait a moment. I need my handbag, please.” Lillian gave it to me, and I took out the notes from Boggs and Jasper. “Thank you. That will be all, Lillian,” I said, returning the handbag to her. She nodded and scurried out the door.

  I read over the pages carefully, then left the room and sprinted up the stairs. I had to find Gigi.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  As I crested the stairs, Gigi was walking along the hallway to the library. I hurried along and caught up with her. “Hello, Gigi. How are you?”

  She was lost in her thoughts, and it took her a second to focus on me. “Oh, Olive. Hello.”

  I said, “How was the funeral?”

  “It played out exactly according to Granny’s design. Very correct and dignified.” Her tone was preoccupied. We entered the library, and she motioned for me to follow her to a corner beyond where Mr. Tower was setting up. The big ginger-haired man sat behind a mahogany table, unfastening the clasps of his leather briefcase.