Gigi hesitated, then seemed to brace herself before she crossed the lavish room that was decorated in shades of ice blue and ivory. A constable burst into the room, dashed around me, and stopped in Gigi’s path. “I’m afraid you’re not allowed in here,” he said, his words breathy from his run up the stairs. “If you’ll come with me . . .” He lifted a hand, indicating we should leave.
Gigi said, “My grandmother has died.” Her voice was even, but her tone was at its haughtiest. “I require a few moments alone. Kindly step aside.” The constable immediately looked shamefaced and stepped back, murmuring an apology.
She went to the side of the bed and looked down at the dowager. I stayed back a few paces to give her some privacy. Like the rest of the room, the bed was in the rococo style. Pale blue silk draped down from the crown canopy to frame the head of the bed, throwing it into shadow. I couldn’t see more than a dim outline of the dowager’s body under the counterpane, which was the same shade of icy blue. It had been smoothed up over the dowager’s chest, but her arms lay on each side of her body on top of the silk cover.
After a moment, Gigi reached out and pressed her fingers to the back of her grandmother’s hand, then turned away, blinking. The constable made a move as if to step toward Gigi, but I cut in front of him and put my arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Gigi.”
She nodded, her hand pressed to her mouth. I rubbed her arm as we moved across the pale gold parquet floor. “What you need is a cup of tea—one with lots of sugar in it.”
Inspector Thorn strode into the room, the stub of the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He shot an angry look at the constable, who tilted his head toward the bed. “The lady insisted on a moment with her grandmother, sir.”
Thorn waved the constable aside, then took the cigarette out of his mouth as he addressed Gigi. “I must make inquiries—question the household—and I’d like to begin with you, Lady Gina.”
She sagged as if a weight had landed on her shoulders.
I said, “Inspector, Lady Gina has just learned her grandmother has died, and she’s been up all night. Perhaps you could return this afternoon.”
“Lady Gina’s choice of entertainment shouldn’t delay an investigation, Miss Belgrave.”
“It’s fine, Olive.” Gigi rolled her shoulder so my arm fell away. “I’ll speak to the inspector. I suggest we use my grandmother’s sitting room.” Before Thorn could reply, she moved, her heels tapping across the Aremberg pattern of the parquet.
Gigi opened a set of double doors and went into a sitting room. It was the same opulent style as the bedroom with everything done in blue and white with touches of gold. The small personal items around the room—a stack of books on a side table near an armchair and a silver-framed photograph of the dowager on her wedding day—made me think the suite of rooms were reserved for the dowager. They’d probably been hers when she was the duchess and were now set aside for her use when she was in London.
Gigi went to a settee and motioned for me to sit beside her, which only left a diminutive chair with curly gilt edges and a tiny seat covered in ice-blue silk for Inspector Thorn.
He sat down gingerly, and the chair creaked under his weight. He paused, probably to make sure the chair would hold him, then said to me, “Miss Belgrave, we don’t need your presence here.”
Gigi cut in before I could answer. “Oh, but I do. I don’t think I could speak to you, Inspector, unless my friend is here. For the moral support, you know.” She said the last bit with a smile, but there was a firmness in her words that indicated she’d have her way.
Thorn scowled at me. “Very well.” He nodded to the constable, who was hesitating on the threshold of the sitting room. “Get my sergeant.”
The police sergeant must have been nearby because a moment later, a young man with sandy hair and an attentive gaze stepped into the room. Thorn jerked his head at a writing desk in the corner. The sergeant took out a notebook and pencil from his pocket and took a seat at the desk.
Thorn removed his own notepad from a pocket and drew a breath, but Gigi spoke first. “I’d like to know exactly what happened this evening.”
“We’ll get to that in good time.”
“I must insist. I need to know what’s happened.” Her freezing aristocratic tones were back, and if I hadn’t just seen that the dowager was dead, I would have thought that it was the dowager who’d spoken. “Surely that’s the least you can do for me, Inspector. Once you answer my questions, I’ll be happy to answer yours.”
The inspector’s lips flattened, but he said, “Very well.” I had to admire the way Gigi had neatly turned the tables and become the questioner. Thorn said, “The police were summoned to the house by the dowager’s doctor at four this morning.”
“Dr. Benhurst?”
“That’s right. The butler rang the doctor during the night”—he checked his notebook—“at the request of the dowager’s maid, a Mrs. Dowd. The doctor says he did what he could, but the dowager died at half past three this morning. Dr. Benhurst informed us that initially he thought his patient had a severe case of gastritis.” I felt a plunging sensation at the inspector’s words as I thought of Gigi’s description of the dowager’s case of the flu.
“Poor Granny. That’s terrible. But why would Dr. Benhurst contact you?” The icy superior tone was gone. She was puzzled.
I realized Gigi didn’t understand the situation. It wasn’t surprising. The death of the dowager was a shock. She was still taking in the news and hadn’t grasped the significance of a house full of policemen and a Scotland Yard inspector.
“The suddenness and severity of the attack prompted him to ring us up. He suspects arsenic.”
Gigi blinked. “I’m sorry?” Clearly, she thought she’d misunderstood Thorn.
“The dowager’s physician thinks she was poisoned,” I said to Gigi.
“But that’s impossible! I mean, Granny occasionally had indigestion, but nothing”—she waved a hand toward the bedroom—“like this. She wasn’t unwell.”
Thorn pounced on her words. “Are you sure about that? The servants say you knew the dowager was taking a tray in her room this evening.”
He was trying to trip up Gigi and catch her in a lie. She was so discombobulated that she didn’t realize it. I tried to make eye contact with her, but she didn’t notice. “Well, yes. But, as I said, Granny often has—had—indigestion. If she wasn’t feeling well, she’d have a light supper on a tray. But she’d never admit she was ill. She always soldiered on.” She started and turned to me. “Do you think—? Is it possible? What Granny feared—?”
Thorn’s gaze bounced between Gigi and me as he said, “Lady Gina, if you have information that would help the investigation . . .”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. Well, you see, Granny had this idea that someone was out to—to—hurt her. I didn’t believe it. I thought she was imagining things. That’s why I asked Olive to stay, to help Granny realize it was all in her head.”
Thorn shot me a look like I was a bothersome fly and he wished he could flick me away with a twitch of his hand. “So, you’re on a little ‘job,’ are you, Miss Belgrave?” He didn’t give me time to answer but turned back to Gigi. “Why was your grandmother afraid, Lady Gina?”
“I don’t know. I thought it was all coincidental. I was sure it was, but now—”
“Just give me the details, please.”
“All right.” Gigi ran her hands over her knees, smoothing the skirt of her evening gown. “Granny and I were shopping. We’d visited her dressmaker, and a new milliner had opened just a few doors down. We were walking along the pavement, and a motorcar swerved toward us. It was a momentary thing. The driver corrected before anything happened, but Granny was frightened.”
“When was this?”
“I’m not sure. Several weeks ago.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“No. It all happened frightfully quickly. The motor didn’t stop. And then there was the time Granny had the flu.” Gigi’s words slowed as she recounted how the dowager had thought her food tasted off and had then felt ill. Gigi said, “But Dr. Benhurst said it was the flu. I had a touch of it as well, but not as severe as Granny.”
“And when did the dowager have the flu?” Thorn asked.
“I don’t remember exactly. A few weeks ago. Dr. Benhurst will know. You must ask him.”
“I will. When did the incident with the motor happen?”
“Before Granny had the flu. Maybe a few days. I don’t remember exactly.”
Thorn made a note, then changed tack. “What time did you leave the house yesterday evening?”
“Around half past eight.”
“Where did you go?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Gigi said. “Shouldn’t you be contacting Dr. Benhurst?”
“Not at this moment, no. We’ll finish here first.”
“Finish? What else is there to say? I’ve told you Granny suspected someone wanted to hurt her, and I—stupidly—discounted her opinion. Obviously, she was right. What I did last night doesn’t come into it.”
Thorn’s hand tightened around the notebook. It curved under the pressure. “On the contrary, Lady Gina. Your movements—along with everyone else’s at Alton House—are extremely important.”
Gigi stared at him, her eyes widening as her expression transitioned from impatience to understanding. “You suspect someone here at Alton House poisoned her. Well! That’s absurd. Completely absurd.”
“No, it’s not. In fact, Dr. Benhurst is quite sure your grandmother was poisoned—”
“Really! Inspector, I must—”
Thorn spoke over her. “Dr. Benhurst is familiar with the symptoms. He had a patient who accidentally consumed arsenic. Dr. Benhurst was in attendance at the man’s death and tells me your grandmother’s symptoms at the end were remarkably similar. ‘Disturbingly similar’ were his exact words, in fact. So you see, my questions aren’t prompted by a whim or a desire to inconvenience you, Lady Gina. I’m collecting evidence. In any case, the appropriate tests will be conducted to confirm whether or not Dr. Benhurst’s assessment is correct. In the meantime, I must collect as much information about the situation here at Alton House as possible while memories are fresh, including the whereabouts of all members of the household. So, if you’ll detail your movements of the previous evening . . .”
“Fine.” Gigi’s tone was still belligerent, but it was underlined with fear. “It’s completely useless information, but I’ll indulge you. We went to Grafton Galleries, then visited a few more clubs before the treasure hunt.” A look of distaste crossed Thorn’s face. If Gigi noticed it, she ignored it. “It’s difficult to give you a moment-by-moment account of the treasure hunt. We were all over London.”
“I see,” Thorn said, his tone indicating he thought a treasure hunt was the most useless waste of time he’d ever heard of. “Who was with you?”
“Olive and Clara—that is, Miss Belgrave and Miss Clack.”
Thorn flicked a glance at me. “Anyone else?” he asked as if I’d lie for Gigi and he needed additional confirmation of her whereabouts.
Gigi said, “Of course. Let’s see. Captain Inglebrook met us at Grafton Galleries. We chatted with Sebastian Blakely and Benny Tower, who was Granny’s solicitor. And there were scads of people at the actual treasure hunt. You must ask Lisbet for her guest list.”
“That won’t be necessary. And what did you do yesterday?”
“Yesterday? I just told you.”
“I meant during the day,” Thorn said.
“Oh. I slept. I rose at teatime and met Olive and Clara in the drawing room. I invited Olive, Addie, and Clara to come on the treasure hunt with me. Addie declined and stayed here.”
“So, you did nothing yesterday except sleep, have tea, then drop into a few nightclubs and attend a treasure hunt?”
Gigi lifted her chin. “That’s correct.”
“And when you arrived a few moments ago, you seemed confused about my presence. Why?”
Gigi cut her gaze to me. “I was surprised to find the police in my home. It’s not something that happens in the normal course of events.”
“But Miss Belgrave”—Thorn looked at me—“specifically informed you I was a ‘real’ inspector. What was that about?”
I shot a glance at Gigi, and she shook her head, a slight movement, while Thorn’s attention was fixed on me. I gave a little head shake of my own, trying to convey it wasn’t worth it to try to keep the Murder Party from the inspector.
I said, “It was a simple mix-up.” Gigi made a movement with her hand as if to cut me off, but I ignored it. “On Monday evening, the dowager set up an entertainment, a fake crime, that was played out after dinner. We were all taken in. When a man arrived pretending to be a police inspector, we thought he was genuine.”
Thorn transferred his attention to Gigi, a thoughtful look on his face as he quoted her words, “‘Doesn’t Granny know you can’t pull the same joke twice?’”
Gigi’s smile was tight, barely a parting of her lips. “I was completely wrong. I see that now.”
Thorn asked, “What sort of crime was it?”
“What?”
“This fake crime your grandmother staged, what was it?”
Gigi said evenly, “Murder.”
Thorn watched her a moment. Gigi was a terrible fidget. She could never sit still for more than a moment in school, but now she remained completely immobile as she returned Thorn’s gaze. “Now that I’ve answered your questions, there is much I must see to.”
“I’m afraid I have a few more—” Thorn transferred his gaze to the doors behind us. “Yes, what is it?”
“A word, sir,” said another constable.
Thorn rose from the delicate chair, and the antique wood squeaked. He went over to speak to the constable, moving back into the dowager’s bedroom, probably so we wouldn’t overhear.
Gigi snapped out of her stiff posture, swiveling toward me. “What were you thinking? Why did you tell him—?”
I put my hand on the back of hers and glanced pointedly at the sergeant, who was still seated in the corner of the room. He’d put down his pencil, but his interested gaze rested on us. I dropped my voice. “Thorn will know about the Murder Party shortly. It was in the papers. Better he hears it from us than think we’re trying to keep something from him.”
Her irritation drained away. “Oh. I’d forgot it would be written up.”
“Yes, I saw it yesterday. Did no one mention it to you?”
“No. You were right. I’m old news. Everyone was talking about Plummy Smythe and how he ran his motor into the shrubbery at Ashdown.”
Thorn returned, and the chair’s joints squealed again as he sat down. “Now, Lady Gina, tell me about this ‘Murder Party,’ as it’s being called.”
Gigi gave a quick summary. Thorn’s eyes narrowed as her story went on. When she finished, he said, “So your grandmother threatened to change her will, did she? Surely that was a concern for you. I understand you’re the main beneficiary.”
Gigi laughed. “Granny did that constantly. No one paid the slightest bit of attention to her.”
“And she embarrassed you.”
“It was a joke. All in good fun.”
“All in good fun,” he repeated, indicating he thought it was exactly the opposite. “The butler informs me you received a telegram—let me see”—he consulted the notepad—“yesterday. What was in this telegram?”
Gigi swallowed. “An update on my parents’ travel itinerary, nothing more.” Her voice was light, but I sensed a wariness in her attitude.
“They’re out of the country, I understand?”
“India.”
Thorn smiled as if he’d caught Gigi out. “That was their destination, but their plans have changed, haven’t they? That’s what the telegram was about, wasn’t it? They’ve extended their trip.”
Gigi’s brows lowered, and her pearlescent skin flushed. “How do you know that?”
Thorn laughed. “Oh, come now, Lady Gina. You know you can’t keep a secret from the servants. I’m sure the news that your parents have added Singapore and Australia to their trip was all over the house before the day was out.” All traces of the smile vanished from his face. “Their decision to keep circling the globe meant your grandmother would stay on, which I’m sure you found restricting. Your grandmother had threatened to change her will—cutting you out. On top of that, she embarrassed you, making you the butt of a party joke.”
Gigi rose, which meant that Thorn had to stand. The sergeant popped up as well, and his notepad tumbled to the floor.
“I understand what you’re implying, Inspector.” Gigi’s tone was glacial. “I’m appalled to find a member of the police who is so shortsighted. This conversation is over. Carry out your ‘inquiries,’ as you call them. I won’t prevent that. But if you make another implication along those lines about me, you’ll hear from my solicitor.”
Gigi walked out of the room, then paused at the door and turned back. “I assume you need to interview everyone in the house. I’ll inform Elrick to make the dining room available for you.”
Before Thorn could order me to stay in the sitting room, I jumped up and left the room. I found Gigi in the hall, her arms braced and head bent as she leaned on a marquetry table. “Olive, he thinks I murdered Granny.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I can barely take it in—that she’s died.” She turned her head to look at me from her hunched position. “You have to help me. That’s why I said he has to use the dining room—”
A whiff of cigarette smoke drifted through the air, and the rumble of Thorn’s voice came from inside the dowager’s room. Gigi pushed away from the table and grabbed my arm. “Come on. I’ll tell you on the way.”