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It took some doing to convince Win to leave his shop and come to the police station with us, but we finally managed. I even let him smoke in my car, which I wasn’t thrilled about, but needs must.
We got a lot of stares while we waited for North. I don’t suppose it’s every day one sees an Englishman in a Chinese outfit smoking a pipe while sitting with two of the aristocracy in the waiting area of a police station. For Win’s part, he seemed entirely unperturbed by the stares.
“Did you used to live in China?” I asked by way of conversation.
“Nope.”
I glanced at his outfit, basically a pair of thick, silk pajamas. “I see.” I didn’t.
Win chuckled. “Doubt it. These things are damned—er, ‘scuse me ma’am—darned comfortable. Everyone will be wearing them one day.”
I doubted that, although I thought they’d make a rather nice pair of beach pajamas. Or perhaps some lovely loungewear. They did look comfortable. I made a mental note to make another trip to Chinatown. And not just for those delicious buns.
At last North appeared, looking put out by our very presence. He grew more morose by the minute once he learned that not only did Hale have an alibi, but that we could prove it. And although Win was a little eccentric, he was a proper, tax-paying citizen of Britain, and there was nothing North could do to deny his claim that he had played host to a drunken Hale.
“I guess we’ll have to let him go,” he finally admitted.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” I snapped. “Maybe if you’d done your job properly, you wouldn’t be in this state of embarrassment.”
I realized, as North’s eyes narrowed, that perhaps I’d pushed the detective a bit too far this time. If I wasn’t careful, he’d be pointing the finger at me just to be contrary. I flinched as he scraped back his chair and stalked toward me.
“Ophelia, Lady Rample,” he intoned. “I am placing you under arrest.”
“Oh, I say!” Chaz cried. “That’s not on, my good man.”
“Why?” I sneered. “Because I did your job?”
“No,” he gritted. “Because you murdered Dottie Davis.”
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I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN better than to get North in a lather. To say I wasn’t best pleased with my new accommodations is perhaps the understatement of the century. Upon placing me under arrest, he had immediately marched me back to processing. After being photographed and fingerprinted, he stuffed me in a cell not unlike the one where I’d visited Hale. At least he’d let me keep my own clothes, and I hadn’t been forced into one of those striped overalls one always sees prisoners wearing in films.
Naturally, he had his reasons for arresting me. I’d been Hale’s lover. Dottie had stolen him from me. I’d suffered a blind, jealous rage. We’d had a row at The Lion Club. And so forth.
It was all ridiculous nonsense, of course. What it really boiled down to was that North didn’t much like me ever since I’d solved the crime he should have done. And I didn’t have an alibi. Not a good one anyway.
While Dottie Hale had been getting herself murdered, I was at home, asleep. Well, I assumed I was asleep. After Varant had dropped me off, I’d enjoyed a nightcap or two before going to bed to read. According to North, there’d been plenty of time between my arriving at home and Dottie’s death for me to slip out and do the deed. Unfortunately, Maddie had been sound asleep and hadn’t even heard me come in. Wonderful. The one time I needed my nosey maid, she failed me.
I slumped on the rather uncomfortable cot and stared morosely at the wall. There was a stain that looked just like Italy. Italy. Now there was a place I should visit. If they didn’t hang me for murder first.
“Get ahold of yourself, Ophelia,” I said aloud. “You are made of sterner stuff than this. You will find a way out of this mess.”
And yet, I’d no idea how. Locked up in here, I couldn’t do any investigating. I hadn’t even seen Hale, although North had assured me they’d let him go.
Time ticked slowly by, the shadows lengthening. I was glad for my winter coat as it was rather chilly inside the cell. Really, you’d think they could heat it better or at least give a person a decent blanket. I eyed the one in my cell askance. It looked very like it might have an infestation.
Since I’d nothing better to do, I decided to go over the facts as I knew them.
Fact one: Dottie had lied to Hale about having his child and had tricked him into marriage. Which gave him a clear motive. Although he had an alibi and was therefore innocent. Did it give anyone else a motive?
Fact two: She’d picked a very public fight with me mere hours before her death. Well, not so much a fight as a lot of fist waving and posturing. Why? She’d never met me before. How did she know who I was? Or that I was there that night? And why confront me so publicly? She’d only embarrassed herself.
Fact three: She’d visited Hyde Park in the middle of the night. Why? Ladies, as a general rule, did not visit parks alone at night. Not that she’d been a lady, but still. Had she gone there with someone? Or perhaps to meet someone?
Fact four: Somewhere between ten at night and two in the morning, someone had stabbed Dottie Davis through the heart with a heart-shaped hat pin. Hat pins were generally the purview of women. Had her murder been a spur-of-the-moment thing and the killer used what was to hand? Then the killer was almost certainly a woman. Or had the killer brought the pin for the specific purpose of ending Dottie’s life? If that was the case, it would mean the killer could be either a man or a woman.
Fact five: Hale Davis was innocent. Of that I was sure. He not only had an alibi, thanks to Win, but I couldn’t believe him capable of a cold-blooded killing like that. Obviously, I was also innocent. Which left... who?
The problem was I knew nothing about Dottie. I’d never met her before that night at the Lion Club. I hadn’t even known her pregnancy was fake or her marriage was on the skids until that night. In fact, I hadn’t even known her name. Which meant I had no idea what she was like, who her friends were, or if she might have angered someone enough to kill her, either out of spontaneous rage or cold planning. Was she the type to incite violence in others?
Based on my brief encounter with her, I’d have to say yes. She’d been coarse and common, but I didn’t hold that against her. That was a matter of birth and circumstance. But there’d been something in her expression. Something that told me she’d reveled in causing that scene. In making the people around her uncomfortable. If she was happy to do that to a complete stranger—me—then what might she do to someone she actually knew and on whom she might have some delicious dirt?
The problem was I didn’t know who Dottie was close to, other than Hale and, apparently, some women called Kitty Leonard. I had no idea where she lived, who her friends were, or how she spent her time. Hale might know those things, but so far, he was a no-show. I would have been more upset about it, but knowing North, he probably wasn’t letting anyone see me. Especially not Hale.
Well, he was going to get an earful from my solicitor come morning. Locking me up without allowing me counsel or a phone call was beyond illegal, and I would make sure he paid for it.
With that jolly thought, I managed to drift off to sleep only to be awoken less than an hour later when the on-duty sergeant ushered a drunk into one of the other cells. She proceeded to sing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” very loudly and off key.
“You do know it’s not Christmas,” I shouted somewhere between the rings and the calling birds.
There was a pause, a loud belch, and then, “It’s always Christmas in my heart.”
I held back a laugh. “Well then, carry on.”
And she did.