Cut to the Quick (17 page)

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Authors: Kate Ross

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BOOK: Cut to the Quick
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“I'd like to help you, sir, but I dunno who she is.”

“Very well. Senderby, see if he’s carrying a weapon, or any property that might have been stolen.”

Dipper stood up. Julian wished he would not look quite so much as though he were used to being searched. Senderly felt inside his coat and turned out his pockets. All he found was a handful of coins, a penknife, a handkerchief, a small clothesbrush, a needle and thread, a paper of pins, and some sugar candy.

“What room in the house have you been given?” Sir Robert asked Dipper.

“I’m sharing with the footmen, sir, Michael and Peter.”

Sir Robert ordered Senderby to search Dipper’s room. For the time being, Dipper was to be kept locked in Rawlinson’s office which was down the hall from Sir Robert’s.

“Is that really necessary?” asked Julian.

“He's implicated in a felony,” said Sir Robert. “He must be kept under lock and key until I determine whether there’s sufficient cause for an arrest. Rawlinson, be good enough to show Senderby where your office is. Then tell Travis to look in the gun room and find out if any knives are missing or show signs of recent use.”

Rawlinson and Senderby went out, with Dipper between them. Dipper threw Julian a last remorseful look. Julian winked at him. Dipper broke into a grin, and winked back.

“Well, Mr. Kestrel,” said Sir Robert, “have you anything to say in your servant’s defence?”

“I don’t defend his lack of candour. He ought to have told the truth. But I don't see his lying as proof that he killed anyone. He only lied to divert attention from himself, because he was panicked at the very idea of being questioned by a constable. To people of Dipper’s class in London, a constable can seem a very formidable beast. A costermonger or a crossing-sweeper doesn't readily think of the law as his friend.”

“Nor should he,” said Sir Robert. “The law is impartial. It is no one’s friend, and everyone’s.”

“Well, be that as it may, there’s a tendency among Dipper’s sort of people to keep out of the clutches of the law, either for good or ill.”

“What do you know about his life before you engaged him? He seems to use many of the cant expressions of thieves.”

“I believe that's not uncommon in the East End. For that matter, it's not uncommon among young bloods in the best families. In that respect, Dipper may be getting above his station.”

“What do you think, Dr. MacGregor?”

“I think a good part of what the boy said may be moonshine, but there's one thing I believed. When he swore he'd never have gotten his master in trouble by leaving a body in his room, that seemed to come straight from the heart.”

“Has he ever shown signs of nervous instability or a violent temper?” Sir Robert asked Julian.

“Pardon me, Sir Robert, I don't mean to laugh, but when I recollect we're talking about Dipper—! Sir Robert, he has the softest heart in Christendom. He can't even kill spiders. He gathers them up and ushers them out the window as though they were royalty. Perhaps he has it in him to commit a murder—perhaps we all do, under some set of circumstances or other—but in Dipper's case it would not—could not—be this particular murder. To kill a young woman in cold blood, and then tuck her into bed and go blithely off to dinner as though nothing had happened—no, Sir Robert, I'd stake my life on it: He isn't capable of that.”

“Can I ask you a frank question, Kestrel?”

“I've never known you to hesitate in the past, Doctor, and I shouldn't wish you to.”

“Here it is, then. Your man seefms very loyal to you, and if you've really done as much for him as he says, he's got reason to be.” “What I've done for him is to pay him very inadequately to wait on me hand and foot at any hour of the day or night.”

“Rubbish! I can read between the lines of what he said. He was living hand-to-mouth in London, and you took it into your head to engage him as your manservant, even though he talks as if he came out of a flash house, and he can't have known the first thing about getting up shirt frills, or whatever he does for you. Oh, yes, I'd say I've got it about right, or you wouldn't be looking out of the window instead of at me. He's loyal to you, and he's right to be. But my question is, how far would he go to do you a service? Has he got it

in him to put a person out of the way, if he thought you needed it badly enough?"

“I don’t know* I know he’s devilish efficient and clever, and if he did decide to commit a murder for my sake, I’d like to think he’d make a neater job of it than this. But I find it very hard to believe he could stab a woman in the back for any reason. Besides, how could he do me any good by killing a woman I’ve never met and don’t know from Eve?"

"We’ve got to identify that girl," said Sir Robert "The whole investigation hinges on that. Only when we know who she is will we know who might have had a reason to kill her.”

Julian drew breath and plunged. "Are you going to finish questioning everyone in the house?”

"I thought I had finished, Mr. Kestrel.”

"You haven’t accounted for the whereabouts of some of your family and Mr, Craddock at the time of the murder.”

"Do you mean to say you wish me to treat my family and guests as though they were under suspicion?”

"I am one of your guests, Sir Robert, and I’ve been under suspicion ever since the murder was discovered. Believe me, it hasn’t been a pleasant experience. I can understand your reluctance to put your family through it. But how can the murder be thoroughly and fairly investigated, unless everyone in the house, however seemingly above suspicion, is questioned about what he or she was doing when the girl was killed?”

"You cannot mean you would have even my wife—my sister— questioned about this crime!”

"The law is impartial," said Julian quietly. "It is no one’s friend, and everyone’s."

Sir Robert drew a long breath. "So be it, Mr. Kestrel. If you’ll come with me, gentlemen, we will ask each of my family and Mr. Craddock where they were and what they were doing between half past four and twenty minutes to six.”

A Ticklish Task for a Magistrate

Before going to the drawing room to question his family, Sir Robert finally told the servants about the murder. By this time, they were so worn out with speculation that the news came as more of a relief than anything else. On hearing that Mr. Kestrel’s valet was being held for further questioning, they assured each other they had always known Dipper was a bad lot. He had a wicked look about him; anyone could see it. “Only think of it,” said Dorcas to Molly Dale, “he sat by you all evening, and you not knowing he had blood on his hands!” But Molly was crying bitterly and did not answer.

Travis was back from inspecting the gun room, and reported to Sir Robert that no knives were missing or showed signs of recent use. Julian was relieved, since any suggestion that the murder weapon came from the gun room would make things worse for Dipper. Unfortunately, the lack of such evidence did not establish anything much in Dipper’s favour. Proving innocence, Julian realized, is apt to be much more difficult than proving guilt.

Sir Robert told Travis to have the girl's body brought downstairs to a small study, where the servants could file in one by one and look at her. Travis and Mrs. Cox were to supervise the viewing, and report to Sir Robert if anyone recognized the girl. Julian’s room

would be kept locked until tomorrow, when a more thorough search could be conducted by the morning light.

Julian was, of course, obliged to move into another room. He asked Sir Robert if he might have the vacant guest room next door to his old room. Sir Robert agreed.

“What in blazes are you up to now?” MacGregor wanted to know.

“I wish I’d progressed so far as to be up to something. I just have a presentiment about that part of the house. I think that, if we understood the ‘where* of this crime, we might understand the ‘who* and the 'why' as well."

*

“Do you mean to say you expect us to make a statement about what we were doing at the time of the murder? And that man is going to write it down?”

Lady Tarleton pointed an elegantly gloved finger at Rawlinson. He ducked his head and pretended to be busy with his notes.

“I am taking statements from everyone who was at or near Bellegarde at the time the girl was killed,” said Sir Robert. “In the case of all of you, of course, I look, upon this as a formality. But if I refrained from questioning any of you, out of respect for your birth or position or character, my forbearance might appear to have far different, more dishonourable motives. Surely you wouldn’t wish to have it said that I feared to ask my own relations the same questions I put to the servants about where they went and what they did this afternoon?”

“But there’s no reason we should be demeaned in this way,” argued Lady Tarleton, “when it’s perfectly obvious who killed the girl. That creature Mr. Kestrel brought among us must have done it. Otherwise, why did he go to the gun room, and why did he lie about it afterward?”

“I grant you, a number of suspicious circumstances seem to point to Mr. Kestrel’s servant. But until we have more positive proof, the investigation must continue. However distasteful the task, I must ask each of you to account for your whereabouts between half past four and twenty minutes to six this afternoon. I put it to you plainly:

Unless you have the goodness to answer my questions, I shall have no choice but to turn over the conduct of this enquiry to some other magistrate, whose impartiality is not open to doubt."

None of the Fontclairs wanted that—Julian could tell by the troubled silence that followed Sir Robert’s words. Were they afraid an outsider might stumble on the secret that Craddock was holding over their heads? Or did they have an even more sinister reason to shrink from a full and fair investigation of the murder?

Hugh stood up. “If you'll permit me, sir, I should like to be the first to make a statement."

His mother smiled warmly at him. Sir Robert's smile was more restrained, but his eyes shone with pride and approval. “Please proceed."

“Well, there's not much to say, really. Mr. Kestrel and I went riding at—oh, it must have been about half past three. I showed him the park and the model farms. We didn't come back to the house until about five or ten minutes to six. Should I go any further?"

“Why don't we cover the period up to six o'clock, when Mr. Kestrel discovered the murder? First tell me: Were you and Mr. Kestrel together all the time you were out riding?"

“Yes. Yes, I'm sure we were."

“Did you see any strangers, or anything out of the common, anywhere near Bellegarde?"

“No, sir."

“And what happened when you returned?"

“Michael let us in, and we went into the great hall. Then we said something civil to each other about having enjoyed ourselves riding—that sort of thing—and Mr. Kestrel went upstairs. I stayed in the hall, and after a bit Miss Craddock came down and asked—" Oh, the deuce! he thought. I don't want to say she was asking after Kestrel. It will sound awfully funny, and it might put her in an awkward spot, what with the murder happening in Kestrel's room. “She asked if we'd had a good ride," he finished lamely.

Maud gaped at him. Why had he hidden the fact that she was looking for Mr. Kestrel? Did he think her forward for seeking out Mr. Kestrel that way? If he did, he was really being very unfair!

What other friend did she have at Bellegarde? He had certainly never taken her into his confidence, or asked to be taken into hers.

She realized Sir Robert was speaking to her. "Miss Craddock, would you be good enough to continue?"

She stood up shakily, conscious of her father’s hard, intent gaze on her. She felt as though she were standing in a hot, bright light. In a voice so low that Sir Robert had to ask her several times to speak up, she described her outing with Miss Pritchard and the girls. "We came home at about a quarter to six. And I— I went to my room to dress for dinner."

"How did you happen to come downstairs again some ten or fifteen minutes later, when my son spoke with you?”

"I— I thought I’d left my parasol in the great hall. I hadn’t. It was a silly mistake. I had it in my room the whole time.”

Maud thought: Now I’ve lied to satisfy Papa, and I’ve lied so as not to contradict Hugh. And why I should do such a wrong thing for either of their sakes is more than I can say.

Hugh thought: Look how readily she took me up when I gave her a chance to conceal she was looking for Kestrel. If there were nothing hole-in-corner about her feelings for him, wouldn’t she come right out and admit she asked me where he was?

Julian thought: Damnation. This is exasperating. Each of these infernal innocents is holding something back, and there’s no telling whether it has anything to do with the murder, or whether it’s merely some romantic muddle of their own.

"Shall I speak next?” said Lady Fontclair. She smiled at Sir Robert, her wide dark eyes looking confidently into his. "All through the period we’re talking of, I was in the conservatory. I was tending to the plants, and sewing, and listening to you read aloud. I didn’t see any strangers, or anything unusual.”

"At one point,” Sir Robert prompted, "I left the room.”

Her eyes strayed for the first time. "Yes. Yes, that’s true. I think you went to the library to get a book—Pope’s verses. A few minutes later, Isabelle came in from the terrace. That was at twenty minutes past five—I remember, because she asked what time it was. You came back some five or ten minutes after that. You can’t have been gone above a quarter of an hour, all told.”

“Thank you, my dear. Isabelle, will you continue?”

Isabelle came gracefully to her feet. “I went out to my favourite seat in the rose arbour this afternoon. I don't remember precisely when I left, but it was closer to three o'clock than four. I brought my sketchbook and sketching box, so that I could design a pattern for Miss Craddock’s wedding slippers. I’m to embroider them for her, as a wedding gift. When I finished, I thought it must be nearly time to dress for dinner, so I came in through the conservatory windows. Aunt Cecily was there. I asked what time it was, and she said it was twenty minutes past five. I said thank you and went upstairs.

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