A Beautiful Blue Death

Chapter 40

It was nearly lunchtime; Lenox decided to eat in. He asked Graham for something simple, and when he went into the dining room, half an hour later, he found beef in sauce with peas and potatoes, as well as a half bottle of wine. He refused the wine and drank water instead, because he wanted to keep his mind clear.

After he had eaten—it was an excellent meal—he had a thought and went back to his desk in the library. There was a cigar box there where he had assembled the small items that constituted the clues to the case, and he opened it and pulled a scrap of paper out. It was the one he had found in Duff’s room, which read £? JS?. It occurred to him that it must have been shorthand for Jack Soames and referred to the money.

Was it all a blind? Duff’s unexpectedly confiding in him was out of the ordinary—and anything out of the ordinary mattered in a case like this. It was worth thinking about, particularly after his elaborate and too-convenient account of the arsenic. Had there been a flash of fear across his face, mixed with the obvious anger, when Lenox brought the little bottle up? Duff was too smart by half.…

Another knock came on the front door, but this one he expected.

“Mr. Skaggs,” said Graham, admitting him without asking leave from Lenox.

Skaggs was dressed very tidily, in a black coat and thick gray trousers, which looked awfully warm to Lenox, who was still seeking a solution to his perpetual misery in cold weather.

“Mr. Lenox,” the man said, and tipped his cap.

“How are you, my dear man? And how is your youngest daughter?”

Skaggs grinned. “Fairly flourishin’, sir, fairly flourishin’.”

“I should think so, with such an excellent mother.”

Now he blushed a bit. “Well, yes, never a finer woman—”

“Now, how has the work gone, Mr. Skaggs?”

“Well, as far as it goes, I suppose, sir.”

“I don’t quite get you, I must say.”

“Well, Mr. Lenox, if I’ve assumed correctly that you’re investigating Miss Prudence Smith and Mr. Jack Soames—I gathered as much, because Mr. Roderick Potts, the man you asked me to investigate, was residing in the mansion where they died—then I may or may not be useful to you. However, I think I can definitively strike him from the list of suspects, though I’ll leave you to judge that.”

“Good heavens! This is certainly more than I had hoped for, Mr. Skaggs.”

Again the investigator tipped his cap. “Thank you, sir.”

“How can you say so?”

“Well, sir, you gave me the assignment of tracking Mr. Potts and learning what I could. Here are the facts, in a nutshell, then: very rich, indifferent to social status, in fact altogether wary of it, exceedingly kind even to his most distant acquaintances and relations, a widower, one daughter, the apple of his eye, donates great sums to charity, but tends his business still.”

“All in all, a perfect suspect.”

Skaggs grinned. “Aye. At any rate, I figured I ought to learn more. Why was he in the house, specifically?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So I sought employ in Mr. Barnard’s house myself.”

“Skaggs! You didn’t!”

“Indeed, the ball being an excellent excuse, I was hired as an extra footman, and I worked up to and during the ball. One of a fleet of temporary servants. Chap in the hiring agency owed me a favor.”

“Excellent!”

“And that is why I can say with definite assurance that he did not kill Mr. Soames. I followed Mr. Potts throughout the party without my eyes leaving him once.”

“Skaggs, shake my hand. You have a very bright future, you know.” The two men shook hands.

“Thank you, sir,” said Skaggs.

“Now why was Potts staying at Barnard’s house?”

“The way I saw it, he might still have had a hand in things, so—I’m not ashamed to say—I eavesdropped. And it cost me my job, too, sir!” Both men laughed at this. “The housekeeper caught me; I wasn’t sorry to see the back of her by the end of it. But I learned the truth. It appears that Mr. Potts plans to give away half his fortune. He’s taking such action because his daughter is engaged, and he will give it away in her name. She’s to wed a farmer in the north—a nice fellow, who reminds Mr. Potts of himself. Of what you might call the working-class background. Disregarding the money.”

“What! Not a duke?”

“Certainly not. When speaking to Mr. Barnard, Mr. Potts most vehemently decried the earls and such who had come courting. Said he was above all that. The farmer is educated, like his daughter, and a gentleman, but by no means an earl, from what I overheard. He said his money had grown heavy on his hands, and he saw such poverty around him that he felt it right to give it away. He seemed to indicate that he might give away a fair percentage of the remainder in the rest of his life. He was speaking to Mr. Barnard as one of the first men of finance in the land.”

“Human beings are remarkable, Mr. Skaggs.”

“That they are. At any rate, Potts was not at all pleased with Barnard’s advice—namely, to keep it. This was during the ball. And Mr. Potts left in quite a huff, saying he would seek counsel elsewhere.”

“Fascinating.”

“As I said, sir, it is possible that all this is a blind, but he had no reason to know that he was being overheard, and all in all he seems the most honorable man I’ve ever known. Oh, a glint of hardness in him. It’s hard to make money without that. But good at bottom, you see, Mr. Lenox.”

“I do indeed, Mr. Skaggs. I do indeed.”

Lenox was thinking to himself of how he had rifled this kind man’s room and felt sick at the memory. But it passed; he scratched Mr. Potts from his list as well, thought he might send a present to the engaged couple, and felt mildly better.

The two men spoke for another moment, and then Lenox thanked him, paid him the balance of his bill, and bade him goodbye. Then—just as Skaggs walked through the door—Lenox noticed his boots—the finest boots he thought he had ever seen.

“Mr. Skaggs, if I may—where do you find boots such as those?”

Skaggs turned around, briefly puzzled, but then smiled and said, “Ah, yes. Cork-soled, sir, and lined with thick flannel, and extra rubber for dryness. Very snug, even in the snow.” He tipped his cap. “Linehan’s, on Crown Street, sir, and not a bad bargain either.”

To Lenox this sounded very near to heaven. He said goodbye with a smile, and the moment the door was closed he donned his old inadequate boots and his greatcoat and jumped into his carriage, telling the driver, “Linehan’s, Crown Street,” before he forgot.