T Kinsey - A Quiet Life in the Country (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery Book 1)

I brightened at once. ‘Oh, goodie,’ I said. ‘I shall turn the place over good and proper, guv, you see if I don’t.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ he said. ‘I doubt there’ll be anything suspicious there, but it’s worth a look while we have her safely in here out of the way.’

‘My maid, the bloodhound,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

‘You flatter me, my lady,’ I said. ‘You couldn’t have given it a few moments’ more thought and come up with a more attractive dog?’

‘Pish and fiddlesticks,’ she said. ‘You know full well what I meant by it.’

‘Pfft,’ I said eloquently.

‘I think I’d better ring for that Jenkins character to go and find Miss Sewell,’ said the inspector, but as he reached for the bell, there was a knock at the door and Jenkins appeared with the coffee.

‘My dear Jenkins,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘What a propitious arrival. Set the coffee down over there, if you please, and then might I ask another favour of you?’

‘Of course, my lady,’ he said. ‘Whatever you need.’

‘Would you dispatch one of your minions to Miss Montgomery’s room, please. Present our compliments and ask if she would be good enough to join the inspector and me in the dining room.’

‘Certainly, my lady. I shall send Dora, if that suits – a run up and down stairs might do her some good. She’s being insufferably cheeky and mischievous these past couple of mornings, I don’t know what’s got into her.

There was the briefest of pauses. Lady Hardcastle composed herself before she said, ‘That will be splendid, Jenkins. Thank you so much.’

He bowed respectfully, showing no sign of being discomfited by the reaction his innocent comment had provoked, and left the room.

‘You’d better get going, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Lurk somewhere for a few minutes to give them time to get down here, and then slip up to the attic rooms and do your snooping.’

I left the dining room and headed for the library, reasoning that there would be no one there.

I hid out in the library where Sir Hector had built an impressive book collection. I noticed a copy of Emma , the book I’d been caught reading by my first employer all those years ago. He had been the one who had encouraged my continuing education which had, in turn, led to my move to London and my eventual employment by Lady Hardcastle. There were some much more recent novels, too. I made a note to ask Lady Hardcastle to ask Sir Hector if he wouldn’t mind my reading some of them. I should have liked to linger but, disappointingly, duty called.

I managed to get all the way to the top of the servants’ staircase without meeting anyone, but that wasn’t really a surprise at that time of day. During the working day, all the servants would be hard at work (surreptitious comforting notwithstanding) but the musicians were self-proclaimed late risers and might still be in their rooms.

There was a brass cardholder on each doorframe, holding a small white card bearing the occupants’ names written in a scrupulously neat hand. The rooms nearest the stairs belonged to the household servants, so I kept going down the passageway to the smaller rooms at the end. Roland Richman had his own room, as had the late Mr Holloway. Skins and Dunn shared a room, which meant that the last one must be Miss Sewell’s.

I opened the door and entered quickly, not wanting to linger outside lest I be spotted. I closed the door.

There was a bed: slept in and unmade. There was a washstand: jug empty, bowl full, face towel scrunched up on the floor. There was a small wardrobe: door open, clothes strewn on the floor. Miss Sewell had the voice of an angel, but she lived like a pig.

I stood with my back to the door, trying my imagining trick again. I imagined I’d stolen something from the house in addition to the emerald, something just for me. I had just a few moments to stash it and get back to the party before I was missed.

I looked around. There were stockings on the floor, a dress over the back of the chair. A suitcase stood open in the corner. Time was running out, what was I going to do with this stuff? My eyes fell on the make-up case standing on a small chair. It was the only thing in the room that was in any way tidy and ordered.

I opened the case and lifted out the top tray of neatly arranged powders, lipsticks and creams. The compartment at the bottom was slightly less well ordered, but it contained a few items of interest: a pair of diamond earrings that I’d seen Lady Farley-Stroud wearing a few weeks earlier, a double string of pearls, and, at the very bottom, a beautiful diamond pendant, which matched the earrings perfectly. I replaced the top tray and closed the case.

When I returned to the dining room, the interview was in full flow.

‘. . . and I’m telling you that I’ve never heard of this Olive Sewell character.’

‘A case of mistaken identity, then, miss?’

‘I should say so, yes.’

‘I see,’ said the inspector, acknowledging my arrival with a nod. ‘Perhaps Miss Armstrong has found something that might shed a little light on the matter.’ He noticed what was in my hands. ‘Another sort of “case” entirely, it seems. Is this yours, Miss Montgomery?’

‘It looks exactly like mine, certainly,’ she said.

‘You won’t mind if I take a look inside?’

She sighed. ‘Be my guest, Inspector. Be my guest.’

He opened the make-up case and looked inside, taking in the neatly arranged items in the top section. Then he lifted the tray and removed it.

‘Well, well, well,’ he said. ‘And what do you suppose we have here?’

She sighed again. ‘If there’s not a pair of diamond earrings, a pendant, and a string of pearls, then your bloodhound has got stickier fingers than I have,’ she said, glaring at me.

I confess I was getting a little weary of the bloodhound references by this point, so I glared back.

‘So it’s not a plant, then? Not some sort of police fit-up?’ asked the inspector, holding up the jewellery.

‘Well, I could deny it, but I’m sure you consider your little Welsh maid here above reproach, so what would be the point? It’s a fair cop. You’ve got me bang to rights, guv, and no mistake.’

‘I have indeed, and I’m arresting you in the name of the king for theft. Anything you say may be taken down in writing and may be used against you at your trial.’

She looked unconcerned.

‘I heard you found the emerald,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’m going to cop for that, too.’

‘It seems unlikely that there would be more than one jewel thief on the premises at any one time, don’t you think?’

‘Well, that Summers bloke either pinched it from the old dear’s bedroom or from the trumpet case, so he’s got to be in the running.’

‘True, true. But you’re being remarkably flippant for someone who might also be accused of murder, Miss Sewell. You were seen leaving the scene of a particularly cowardly killing and here you are in possession of a few items of rather expensive jewellery. I’d say you ought to be taking things a little more seriously.’

‘ Mrs Sewell, if you insist on using that name,’ she said, coldly. ‘I lifted a few of the lady of the house’s less revolting items of jewellery, Inspector. It would be a waste of all our time to deny that now. But I didn’t kill anyone. You already know I was seen in the library while Wallace was still on stage.’

‘So tell us exactly what happened.’

Another sigh. ‘Well, Inspector, I’m reasonably sure I told you before that I left the stage during the instrumental numbers and went off in search of some decent booze. I started in the library but there wasn’t a drop to be had, so I left there and decided to explore the rest of the house. That was when Bethan Bloodhound here saw me.’