I pushed open the door to Felix’s room, and Jasper followed me in. I’d ushered him upstairs, explaining what had happened since I’d seen him last.
“Searching the suspects’ rooms wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I dropped by.” As he surveyed the room, Jasper tapped his finger against the brim of his hat, which he held in his hands. He still wore his wool coat. “I was thinking more along the lines of a visit to a tea shop.”
“A cup of tea sounds delightful. But first, have a quick look around. You take the wardrobe. You’ll know what to look for—if anything is off or out of place. I’ll look over the desk, shall I?”
“It’s not the done thing, poking among people’s possessions.”
“Neither is doctoring chocolates to make it look as if Gigi murdered her maid.” I didn’t wait for an answer but went to the desk.
“Yes, well. When you put it that way . . .” Jasper put his hat down and went to the wardrobe.
The desk was obviously where Felix spent most of his time. The rest of the room was neat. His clothes were put away, the counterpane on the bed was smooth, and the top of the bureau was clear and gleamed with polish. The desk, however, was covered with papers, pens, pencils, and stacks of books. Felix’s cape was draped over the back of the desk chair, and a piece of paper was rolled into the typewriter. It was half filled with typed text, lines of his play.
A few minutes later, Jasper closed the doors of the wardrobe. “Nothing unusual here. Suit coats, shirts, and trousers. Pocket squares, socks, collars, and such.”
The desk was messy, but I was careful not to move things too much. My father worked in the same way, creating a small tornado of papers around him. But he always knew the exact location of each item on his desk, and if anything had been moved, Father could spot it immediately.
Jasper made a humming sound, and I turned. “What is it?”
He was leafing through a stack of books and pamphlets on the bedside table. “Let’s just say Felix’s choice of reading material could be considered rather radical.”
“He did say the aristocracy was outmoded. Said they were dinosaurs.”
“That’s mild compared to some of the rhetoric here.”
“He also said he hated the dowager.”
Jasper, his head still bent, turned and looked at me. “Was he squiffy?”
“Very. But he knew exactly what he was saying. His tone was . . . cold. That’s the only way to describe it.”
“In vino veritas, hmm? But there is a large difference between saying you hate someone and killing them.”
I turned back to the desk. “Yes, and I don’t know Felix well enough to know if he’d actually carry through with something like that.” I lifted the corners of papers and edges of books, excavating through the layers. I uncovered a crumpled chocolate bar wrapper, a stapler, a box of matches, and a sharp penknife, which lay on the desk blotter. I was about to gently lower the edges of the papers and books back into place when I noticed a scattering of dark-colored flakes near the blade of the penknife.
I must have made a noise because Jasper came across the room. “Find something interesting?”
“I don’t know.” I pointed out the flakes. “They could be from the chocolate bar, I suppose. They’re too dark to be rubbings from an eraser.”
Jasper took a monocle from his pocket and peered at them. “I agree, definitely not from an eraser. Could be evidence, old bean.”
“But would Felix cut open chocolates here and leave traces of it? Wouldn’t he sweep it away?” I asked.
“He probably didn’t notice. They’re quite small. And he could always say they were from the chocolate bar.” Jasper straightened and returned the monocle to his pocket. “Now I believe the question is, do you leave everything in situ?”
I blew out a sigh. “No, I don’t think so. Even though it looks as if the maids don’t clean the desk, and Felix hasn’t brushed them away, he might come back from the funeral and decide his play is terrible and sweep everything into the fire.”
“Gracious.”
“He’s done it before.” I picked up a clean sheet of typing paper and slipped it under the edge of the penknife.
“Well, in that case . . .” Jasper took out his handkerchief and brushed the flakes onto the sheet of paper. I folded the paper, creating a little packet and slipped it into an envelope that I found in the desk. The envelope just fit into the pocket of my dress.
A quick look through the rest of the drawers turned up receipts, notebooks with jottings so difficult to read they might as well have been hieroglyphics, and other miscellany, but none of it was of interest to us.
Jasper picked up his hat and followed me into the hallway as I headed for the servants’ stairs. “We’d better hurry. I’d hate for Dowd to arrive back while I’m poking about in her room.” Jasper followed me up the stairs, his footfalls echoing. “Can’t you walk more quietly?” I asked.
“Why? Everyone left, didn’t they? You don’t have to creep.”
“I suppose so, but one feels as if one should creep along as silently as possible.”
We reached the top floor, and I led the way down the narrow, bare wood corridor. “I don’t know exactly which room is Dowd’s,” I said, “but she was standing nearest this one when everyone was gathered outside Stella’s room.” I peeked into the room. It was arranged exactly as Stella’s room had been, except there was only one bed. A rocking chair sat by the window with a shawl draped across the arm. A spirit stove and single teacup rested on the bedside table. The room must belong to a senior servant. The maids would share a room, and I doubted they’d be allowed to have a spirit stove.
A rope rug covered the floor, and an ivory-backed toilet set rested on the dresser with an oval mirror. A pink dressing gown with frills hung on a peg behind the door. “This is Dowd’s room. I recognize the dressing gown.” I stepped inside tentatively.
“Not much to look at here,” Jasper said, going to the table near the rocker.
The small space with the low ceiling felt claustrophobic with both of us in it, and I was very aware of the scent of Jasper’s lime aftershave.
I had a quick look through the dresser drawers, feeling even worse about snooping here than I had downstairs. Servants had so little privacy. Nosing about in their belongings seemed an even greater wrong than looking around the other bedrooms. The dresser contained only clothing, all of it simply cut and in sturdy fabrics. I pushed the bottom drawer closed as Jasper said, “Nothing of interest here.”
“Yes, I agree—” I’d half turned away from the dresser, but I swung back around to fully face it. Bottles and jars were lined up in front of the mirror, including separate bottles of rose and lavender skin creams, as well as powder. It was the small glass bottles of medicine that I’d noticed. One was a medicine for coughs, and the other was a tonic. “Look, this one has arsenic in it. It’s listed on the label.”
Jasper peered over my shoulder. “Arsenic has a long history of ‘medical’ use. Remember the arsenic eaters nibbling away on it, not just for glossy hair and pale skin, but for longevity and stamina—at least that’s what the proponents say.” He squinted at the small print on the label. “The amount is fairly low, though. It wouldn’t be lethal unless she reduced it . . .” Jasper trailed off as he followed my gaze to the spirit stove on the side table. “Another bit of evidence for the inspector, then.”
Jasper handed me his handkerchief, and I wrapped up the small bottle and tucked it into my other pocket. “Quite a collection you’re assembling there. Are you going to take away the teapot too?”
“No. That would definitely be noticed.”
“Dowd might notice the tonic bottle is gone.”
“I’ll find something in the bath and replace it.” In the cupboard in the servant’s bath, I found a bottle of a similar color and size. It was clear glass, just like the tonic bottle, but it contained a quarter inch of mouthwash. Hopefully, Dowd wouldn’t notice her tonic had been switched for mouthwash before I could turn in my evidence to Thorn. “Come on, let’s not linger here.”
I descended the narrow stairs, my feet clattering against the wood. I wasn’t worried about making noise now. I wanted to get back into the main part of the house before anyone returned from the funeral. The servants would arrive back first so they could open the house, and I was glad when we were back in the hallway with the thick carpet muffling our steps. Silence still permeated the air of Alton House. “They’re not back,” I said and headed for the main staircase.
“What did you find in Gigi’s room?” Jasper asked when we were about halfway down the first flight of stairs.
“I didn’t look through her room.”
Jasper didn’t say anything, only raised an eyebrow.
“There’s no need.”
Jasper sighed. “You’re so fiercely loyal, Olive. You haven’t had a single doubt about Gigi?”
It was my turn to sigh. I did an about-face and tromped up the stairs. “It’s very annoying when you point out things like this, you know.”
“Sorry. Duty as a friend, and all that. I do like Gigi, but you know the first rule of detection—”
“Everyone is a suspect. Yes, yes. Although, I do have to point out, you’ve gleaned these rules from detective fiction.”
“Have they steered you wrong?”
“No,” I said with another gusty sigh. “Gigi’s room is rather a hike. We turn here and keep going.”
Once we came to Gigi’s room, Jasper took the sitting room while I looked around the bedroom. He finished before I did and appeared in the doorway. “Anything?”
“Nothing. Gigi’s collection of dresses rivals the stock of a fashion house. Of course, it should. Most of the frocks and gowns came from the best Parisian designers. Her hat boxes contain nothing but hats. Just the usual scent and cosmetics and fashion magazines on her dressing table.”
“Well, then. It seems your trust in Gigi is vindicated. I’m sure you want to share your findings with Thorn—”
“I’m not actually anxious to do that at all.” I could already imagine his reaction. Words like interfering and busybody would be prominent in his vocabulary, I was sure. “Especially since I don’t have any idea who actually poisoned the dowager or Stella.”
“Well, then. How about that cup of tea? I have a few things to share that you might find helpful in sorting it all out.”
“Brilliant. I’ll get my coat.”