A Poisoned Season

6

Inspector Manning arrived at my house early the next morning, just as Cécile and I were sitting down at the breakfast table. The cheerful room, filled with sunshine and freshly cut flowers, belied the sullen mood of its occupants. The inspector questioned me about the events of the previous evening but admitted to having no leads as to the identity of the intruder. There seemed little hope that he would ever be caught.

"Please eat something, Inspector," I said. "I really must insist. There's no point letting all this food go to waste, and I've no appetite this morning."

"Thank you, Lady Ashton." He hesitated for a moment, but the temptation of the dishes on the sideboard was too great. He picked up a plate and began to fill it.

"So this intruder left no clues?" Cécile asked.

"Not that we can find. He's a skilled thief." He dove into his eggs and smiled gratefully when the maid gave him a steaming cup of coffee. "I would like to assure you that we'll be able to keep news of this from reaching the papers, but I'm afraid that would be a false promise."

I sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Have you any objection to my returning the diamond to Mrs. Francis?"

"Not in the least. So far, the local constabulary has handled the case in Richmond, but I am hoping that now we may be able to transfer it to Scotland Yard."

"Do you think there's a connection between the thefts and the murders?"

"Not necessarily," the detective said. "But don't worry, we'll figure it out. Mr. Hargreaves has asked that I once again increase the patrols near your house, something I will do gladly. I've also arranged to have an undercover policeman stationed in Berkeley Square overnight."

"Thank you. I will rest easier knowing that."

"Do you think she is in danger?" Cécile asked.

"If the intruder had wanted to harm her, he had ample opportunity to do so last night. It seems that his interest in Lady Ashton is of a...er...romantic nature. Still, I wouldn't like to see you have another run-in with him. Difficult to guess what the criminal mind might try next."

"I think we ought to go to Richmond at once," I said, rising from the table. Inspector Manning pushed his plate away and stood up quickly, almost knocking over his coffee. "There's no need to stop eating, Inspector," I said. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like."

"I couldn't, madam," he said, but I would have none of it. I rang for the maid and instructed her to see to it that he had whatever he wanted, and then I left him there, embarrassed but obviously pleased with his breakfast.

The drive to Richmond was a short one. Mrs. Francis herself opened the door for us, was delighted to meet Cécile, and welcomed us into her house, which, though modest, had been beautifully furnished by someone with excellent taste. We followed her into a small sitting room that was bathed in darkness and extremely hot, the curtains closed as demanded by the customs of mourning. Before I could launch into the story of my extraordinary night, Mrs. Francis announced her own surprising news.

"The police have just left — they've arrested my maid. She's poor Stilleman's widow. They'd been married less than a year."

"Stilleman?" I asked.

"David's valet."

"What evidence do they have against her?" I sat down and pulled off my gloves.

"Apparently she was having an affair with the gardener and David caught them."

"So why isn't the gardener arrested?" Cécile asked. "His motive would be as strong as hers."

"Thomkins was away visiting his sister when David died, so they don't consider him a suspect."

"Have they determined the cause of death?" I asked.

"Nicotine poisoning, but they don't yet know how it was administered."

"Is there no possibility that Thomkins planted it before leaving to visit his sister?"

"That I do not know. But I am convinced that Jane is being wrongly accused. I know this girl well — she would never have killed my husband, let alone hers. You must help me, Lady Ashton."

I frowned. "I don't know what I could do."

"Find the truth, as you did when your husband was killed. Please. I've no one else to turn to."

"I'm sure that the police — "

"As far as they are concerned, the case is closed as of this morning."

"We would never leave an innocent woman to sit in jail," Cécile said, giving me a pointed look. "Waiting to hang. C'est horrible. The guillotine is far less barbaric."

"Having one's head severed is less barbaric?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It is quicker, chérie. Much quicker."

"This is all too awful. Please, Lady Ashton. I cannot bear to see her wrongly accused, or to think that the person who killed David will not be punished."

How could I deny her? "I shall try, Mrs. Francis."

"That is all I can ask. Where will you begin?"

"Before we go any further, I need to give you this." I handed her the box that contained the pink diamond.

"Is this David's?" I nodded. "But how — "

"Last night someone broke into my house and left it with a note asking that I return it to you."

"It is stunning, though I don't understand why it was returned to you." She fingered it carefully, then walked over to a window and opened the curtains to examine the stone in the light. Her pleasure was so evident that I could not help but wonder why her husband had not given it to her himself. Her smile disappeared as suddenly as it had come, and she started to cry. "I'm so glad you're both here. David didn't like to entertain and guarded his privacy fiercely. Now that he's gone, I find myself quite without friends."

Cécile took her by the arm and marched her back to a chair. "You have us. What is your Christian name, Madame Francis? I cannot abide formality."

"Beatrice," she said, drying her eyes. "Thank you, Mrs. du Lac." Cécile shook her head. "Cécile. Thank you. I never pictured myself without him, you know. Foolish, isn't it? Never to have considered what I was doing when I buried myself here? All I cared about was being with him, with no regret for all that I left behind."

"We will find out who killed him," I said, hoping my voice did not betray the lack of confidence I felt. "I'll need you to tell me everything the police have shared with you." This, unfortunately, turned out to be very little. From what I could gather, they had interviewed everyone in the household, and as soon as they discovered Jane's affair, their attention focused solely on her. Unable to provide an alibi, she had no defense against their charges.

There seemed little point in searching the house for clues; the police would have taken anything of note. Nonetheless, I wanted to look at Mr. Francis's study. I knew not how to best conduct a murder investigation, but it seemed sensible to assume that a careful look at the victim's personal possessions might reveal something about the crime. Beatrice led us through the dark house into a pleasant room with a series of French doors that opened into a garden. It would have been a lovely place in which to work. Neatly stacked books rested on the desk next to a mahogany box that held thick writing paper, wax, and a heavy seal.

I looked through the desk, scrutinized the bookshelves, even pulled down volume after volume to see if anything was hidden behind them, but found nothing of note. I paced the room, trying my best to look authoritative. At last, my eyes came to rest on a pile of unopened mail laid haphazardly on a table behind the desk.

"Is this recently delivered?" I asked, holding it up for Mrs. Francis to see.

"Yes. It's what has arrived since David's death. I haven't had the heart to open it. You may if you think it would be of some use."

Most of it was of little consequence — a bill from his tailor, a receipt for some books, several personal letters. But before I reached the bottom of the pile, my curiosity was rewarded as I opened a letter written on stationery from the Marlborough Club. I scanned it quickly, taken aback by its contents.

Dear Mr. Francis,

Many thanks for your kind letter. Unfortunately, my schedule at present does not allow for a visit to Richmond, so I'm afraid we will not be able to meet. I thank you for alerting me to the situation you mentioned, and assure you that I have the matter well in hand.

Yrs., etc.

C. Berry