by C. J. Archer
“Does anyone else live in the house besides Mr. and Mrs. Warrington, the butler, housekeeper and you? What about the cook?”
She shook her head. “She lives in her own place with her husband. She leaves after she makes the dinner.”
“Did anyone touch the body?” Mr. Armitage asked.
“Mr. Henderson fussed over her coat a bit and removed her hat. I don’t think he meant anything by it. He was just trying to make her look presentable.” She grimaced. “I know how it sounds, but he’s very fond of her. He would know she’d like to look her best, no matter what.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Why was she wearing a coat and hat inside? Was she going out?”
She nodded. “She planned to, but that all changed after the argument.”
“What argument?” Harmony asked.
“Between Mr. and Mrs. Warrington.”
“I think we need to know what led up to you discovering the body,” I said. “You say Mrs. Warrington was going out for the evening. Where was she going?”
“For a walk.”
We all arched our brows at that. A well-to-do lady going out for a walk at night in winter wasn’t just odd, it was suspicious. It certainly implied she was up to something she shouldn’t be.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Miss Jennet went on. “She often did it and always stayed in well-lit areas. She also wore men’s clothes. Nobody pays men any attention, but a woman would be preyed upon, so Mrs. Warrington would say.”
“Was she wearing these men’s clothes at the time of the murder?” Harry asked.
Miss Jennet nodded. “Cap and all.”
“Was that why Mr. and Mrs. Warrington were arguing? He didn’t want her going out?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I could hear harsh voices but not the words.”
“And what time was this?” I asked.
“About nine. It lasted a few minutes and then he stormed out.” She sipped her tea, cradling the cup in both hands, her elbows tucked in. Seated next to Mr. Armitage, she appeared very small and fragile, and somewhat nervous. “I don’t think I should be telling you this. If Mr. Warrington wanted you to know, he would have told you.”
“He isn’t aware of what may be important at this point.” Mr. Armitage’s quick response coupled with his encouraging smile, seemed to ease her a little. “We’ll speak to him about it later and get his side of things. We won’t tell him who gave us the information.”
She looked relieved. “Thank you. I know I can’t stay on now that my mistress is gone, but I need a good reference. ”
“Tell us what happened next,” I said. “Where did Mr. Warrington go after he stormed out of the drawing room?”
“He went to his bedroom. At about nine-thirty, he went out to his club. By then, I assumed Mrs. Warrington had changed her mind and decided not to go for her walk. At ten, she rang the bell and Mr. Henderson answered it. She asked for tea.”
“Who delivered the tea to Mrs. Warrington?” I asked.
“Mr. Henderson.”
“And what did you both do after that?”
“I was in the servants’ dining room doing some mending. Mr. Henderson was doing the same for the master. The housekeeper was doing her accounts and the cook had gone home. As time went on, we thought it strange that Mrs. Warrington hadn’t rung for me to get her ready for bed, but we didn’t do anything about it.” She touched her fingers to her trembling lips. “By midnight, I’d had enough of waiting so went upstairs to ask her if she needed me. That’s when I found her.” Her face crumpled and she lowered her head.
I reached across the table and clasped her hand. “It’s not your fault. Even if you’d gone up earlier, it’s unlikely you could have saved her. She would have bled to death very quickly.” Too late, I realized that might be more information than her nerves could cope with.
It seemed to comfort her a little, however. It must have been playing on her mind ever since discovering the body that she could have saved her mistress if she’d checked on her earlier.
Mr. Armitage handed her his handkerchief. “I know this is hard, but we need to know how the body looked when you found it. Can you describe it for us?”
She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief. “I’ll try. I don’t remember much, except that there was a lot of blood. It was on the back of the chair, on the chair arm and all down here.” She indicated her throat and chest. “It came from a wound here.” She touched the right side of her throat. “She was seated upright, still wearing the cap with her hair pinned up beneath it. I didn’t notice until later that her jewels were missing. Her rings and a necklace, all gone.”
I didn’t have the heart to ask her if she’d noticed any defensive wounds. It was unlikely the maid had studied the body closely enough anyway. She would have been in shock. Without seeing the body ourselves, we couldn’t be certain, but the fact that Mrs. Warrington’s cap and hair were still in place meant she probably hadn’t fought back. If the killer had crept up from behind, she wouldn’t have had a chance to fight him off.
“You said earlier that you called for help and Mr. Henderson came,” I went on. “And you said he broke down, crying?”
She nodded. “It was a shock for him. He’s very fond of her.”
“How fond?”
Her lips pursed. “There was nothing going on, if that’s what you’re implying. He admired her, that’s all.”
I hoped Mr. Armitage or Harmony would take over the questioning and ask about Mrs. Warrington’s lover, but Harmony had been reluctant to ask questions throughout, and Mr. Armitage had gone oddly quiet. He merely sat there, brow furrowed, the teacup half-raised as if he couldn’t decide whether to sip or not.
“I’m sorry to have to ask this,” I said. “But it’s come to our attention that Mrs. Warrington was an adulteress.”
Her face colored and she dipped her head, but did not look shocked. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
“But you think there was another man in her life?”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I couldn’t say.”
“She’s gone, Miss Jennet. You don’t have to protect her now.”
“Her reputation isn’t gone. And if people find I’ve been talking out of turn, I’ll never be employed as a lady’s maid again.”
Harmony caught my eye and shook her head in warning. She was right. It wasn’t fair of me to pressure Miss Jennet. She needed an impeccable reference in order to get another job. It wasn’t easy for lady’s maids to find work these days. So many society women visited salons to have their hair done and dressed themselves that the art of the lady’s maid was dying.
But I had to glean as much information as I could. I would kick myself if I didn’t try as hard as possible. “Yesterday morning, I spoke to Mr. Henderson in his office. I’d been employed by Mr. Warrington to find evidence of his wife’s adultery. You were listening in on our conversation and went to warn your mistress.”
Miss Jennet stood abruptly. “I think I’d better get back now.”
I caught her arm. “I followed her when she left the house shortly after that. She went to a photography studio in Paddington. Do you know why?”
She shook her head. “She didn’t confide in me.”
“Was she trying to hide all evidence that she was seeing another man? Were there incriminating photographs of them together?”
She jerked her arm away. “I don’t know. I’ve got to go.”
“Please, just one more question. Do you know if Mrs. Warrington knew her half-brother was in London?”
She considered this then must have realized it didn’t matter now, and it wouldn’t be a scandal if word got out. “She met him yesterday afternoon.”
That must have been before he checked into the hotel. “Did she tell you anything about the meeting?”
“No.”
“How did she seem when she returned home?”
“Angry. I gathered the meeting hadn’t gone well. Now if you don’t mi
nd—”
“One more thing.” Mr. Armitage stood too. He no longer sported the smiles of a charmer, but the creased brow of a detective with something on his mind. “Can you describe the chair?”
Miss Jennet blinked. “The chair?”
“You said it was a wingback. How large was it?”
She used her hands to show how the wings came out at the sides, shielding the upper body and face once of the person was ensconced in it.
“And you say it was facing the fire, the back to the window.”
“The fireplace is on the left hand wall as you look from the door, and the window is opposite the door. The chair would mostly have its back to the window, yes.”
He thanked her and watched her leave the teashop. He did not resume his seat, but turned to me, a triumphant look on his face.
“Why the questions about the chair?” I asked. “We already know the killer came through the window and stabbed her in the throat from behind.”
He rounded the table and stood behind me. I tipped my head back and looked up, but he gently pushed it forward again. His hand touched the right side of my throat. His warm skin caressed mine. My pulse quickened. I wanted to look up again and see his face, but dared not.
“Go on,” Harmony snapped.
Mr. Armitage cleared his throat but did not remove his hand. “The chair was large and facing away from the window. The wings would have shielded the sitter’s face and body from anyone approaching from behind. Except perhaps an arm and shoulder, and the top of her head.”
I gasped. “And she wore a man’s coat and cap. If the killer caught only those glimpses, he might not have realized she was a woman.”
“He comes up behind the chair and stabs her, here.” His thumb stroked the skin at my throat, sending a wave of warmth through my entire body.
I turned my head a little and caught a hint of his cologne. He stood very close. So close that if I tipped my head back, it would bump him. I ought to be shocked at his proximity, but I was not. I should put some distance between us, but I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.
Harmony set her teacup down hard in the saucer. It was a miracle the china didn’t crack. “And?”
Mr. Armitage returned to his side of the table and gathered up his hat and gloves. His eyes shone brightly in his flushed face. “And you know what that means.”
“The killer thought she was her husband,” I said. “Mr. Warrington was the intended victim, not Mrs. Warrington.” I stood and pulled on my gloves. “We have to warn him.”
Chapter 7
Mr. Warrington was quite shocked when we told him our theory. He had to sit down and he couldn’t speak for a long time.
We’d told the constable and butler that we’d learned something of importance about the murder that Mr. Warrington needed to hear. Mr. Henderson refused to let us in, but we were loud enough that Mr. Warrington himself overheard the commotion. He’d been coming down the stairs with his friend, Mr. Drummond, and invited us in. We returned to his office to speak in private.
“Here, Bertie, drink this.” Mr. Drummond handed him a tumbler he’d half-filled from the decanter. “You look like you need it.”
Mr. Warrington accepted the glass gratefully and sipped.
“Are you sure he was the intended target?” Mr. Drummond asked us.
“No,” Mr. Armitage said. “It’s only a theory at the moment.”
“But it’s quite a solid one,” I added. “When you realize the intruder couldn’t have seen Mrs. Warrington seated in the large wingback chair, it makes sense that he mistook her for a man. And what other man would be seated alone in the drawing room of an evening but Mr. Warrington?”
“Quite,” Mr. Warrington murmured.
“Do you have enemies, sir?” Mr. Armitage asked.
“Too many,” Mr. Drummond said darkly.
Mr. Warrington looked up at his friend and shook his head. “That’s just politics, Pierce, nothing to murder anyone over.”
Mr. Drummond threw his hands in the air. “You’re a fool if you think that. Politicians have been murdered for much less.”
“You’ve been receiving threatening letters,” I said. “Perhaps the person sending them is following through on the threats.”
I felt Mr. Armitage’s gaze drill into me but I dared not look at him. I hadn’t mentioned the letters to him and they weren’t public knowledge.
Mr. Warrington, however, already knew that I knew. “It’s possible.”
Mr. Drummond scoffed. “It’s very likely. Do you still have the letters?”
Mr. Warrington shook his head. “I gave them to the police when I reported it. The fools. They did nothing about it. The detective in charge said he would look into it and asked me to hand over any future letters I might receive.”
“And did you?” I asked.
“I never received any more.”
“Who was the investigating detective?” Mr. Armitage asked. “I have contacts at Scotland Yard so I might be able to find out what progress they’ve made.”
Mr. Warrington rubbed his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. “Hobart, I think his name was. Yes, Hobart.”
Mr. Armitage went quite still except for a curt nod.
“Thank you,” I said. “We’ll follow it up, as well as any other leads. Now, please forgive me for this, but there’s the matter of our fee.”
Mr. Warrington waved his hand. “I’m not going to hire you. I’ll inform the police of your theory. They can look into it. They already have the letters, after all, and may be well on their way to finding who wrote them.”
“Or they might not care,” I countered. “If they can close the case quickly, they may not look beyond the vagrant.”
“Come now, Miss Fox, Scotland Yard are not inept. If evidence points to the vagrant, it must have been him.”
“He has a bad arm. He couldn’t possibly have climbed the pipe and got through the window.”
Mr. Warrington rubbed his jaw, over and over, taking his time before responding. “But if I present the police with this new theory, surely they’ll look at the letters again.”
Mr. Drummond did not agree. “You can’t trust them. You have to hire Miss Fox.”
“Armitage and Associates,” Mr. Armitage cut in.
“Miss Fox is right. The police won’t look elsewhere if they have a perfectly acceptable scapegoat in their cells.” When Mr. Warrington still did not agree, Mr. Drummond added, “How about you hire Mr. Armitage and his associates but also tell the police their theory? That way if the police do a poor job, Miss Fox, Miss Cotton and Mr. Armitage will solve the case with their parallel investigation. You have nothing to lose, old man.”
“I suppose.”
“You need to protect yourself.” Mr. Drummond squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “You also need justice for poor Isobel. You two might not have been on the best of terms, but she was your wife, and I know you cared for her once.”
“I still did, right up until the end.” Mr. Warrington’s voice softened. “Very well. I’ll hire you, but I will also inform the police of your theory.”
“That’s fair,” Mr. Armitage said. “But if we could ask you to keep our name out of it. We don’t want the police knowing you’ve hired private detectives.”
Mr. Drummond’s lips tilted in a sardonic grin. “They don’t like being shown up, you mean.”
Mr. Armitage bristled. “There are some excellent policemen at Scotland Yard.”
“Of course, of course. Just not the fellow who arrested that poor vagrant.”
Mr. Warrington rang for the butler and Mr. Henderson arrived to show us out.
“You should take all the necessary precautions to ensure your safety,” Mr. Armitage said.
Mr. Warrington and Mr. Drummond exchanged grim glances. “I’ll make sure he does,” Mr. Drummond assured us.
The butler led the way down the stairs. Now that I knew how distraught he was at his mistress’s death, I could see the telltale signs of grief in
the swelling of his eyes, the sagging of his shoulders. I wasn’t sure whether to feel sorry for him, or suspect him of being her lover.
“Is it all right if we ask you some questions?” I asked as we set foot on the first floor landing.
“No.”
“But Mr. Warrington is employing us to find the killer. He will want you to cooperate.”
“I have nothing to tell you therefore I have nothing to say.” He lengthened his strides, leaving us in his wake.
I picked up my skirts and raced after him. “It’s about the threatening letters Mr. Warrington received.”
“I don’t know anything about those. They arrived, and I gave them to Mr. Warrington along with the rest of his mail. Good day.” He jerked open the door and told the constable to make sure we left the premises.
Harmony took my arm. “We have all the information we need to get started,” she assured me.
I allowed her to steer me past the constable and the waiting journalists, their number thinner than it had been earlier. Mr. Armitage followed behind then drew up alongside me as we turned the corner.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was receiving threatening letters?” he asked.
“I forgot.” At his disbelieving look, I added, “Truly, I did.”
He glanced at Harmony. She simply smiled innocently at him which only made him more suspicious.
“I’m not going to keep anything from you deliberately, Harry. We’re working together now. We must promise to share everything we learn. Between all of us, we’ll solve this case quickly.”
He walked on, a hand in his pocket. When we reached Kensington High Street, he said, “So…we’re on first name basis now?”
“Is that all right with you?”
“Yes.” He smiled at me.
Harmony scowled at us both. “It’s all very well out here, but you shouldn’t be so familiar at the hotel. Someone might overhear.”
I glared at her and gave a slight shake of my head, but she wasn’t looking my way.
Harry, however, noticed, but he didn’t look at all surprised. His smile vanished. “We can’t have that.” The sarcastic tone was subtle but it was there.
