Before I could respond to Lady Agnes’s statement, the door burst open and a young woman strode into the room. Glossy golden-brown hair framed her delicate features, and she was dressed in an exquisite day dress of pale green. She would have been beautiful except for her sulky expression. I recognized her immediately. When I knew her at finishing school, Nora Clayton had long hair and had been a bit plumper, but she’d had the same confident manner. Her nickname at school was Narcissistic Nora—but it was only whispered about her, never said to her face.
A flash of movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. The Siamese cat, Lapis, jumped lightly to the floor in a silent sinewy movement.
“Agnes, you must hire a proper lady’s maid for me,” Nora said. “That creature who took Mary’s place shattered my perfume bottle. Now my room positively reeks of lily of the valley.”
Agnes gestured toward me. “We have a visitor, Nora. Let me introduce you to Miss Olive Belgrave. She’s here to help us with this silliness about the curse. Olive, this is my sister-in-law, Lady Mulvern.”
“We were at finishing school together,” I said. “Congratulations on your wedding.” The wedding had taken place three months before. I hadn’t been invited, but I hadn’t expected to receive a gilt-edged invitation. Nora and I hadn’t been close.
Nora flicked a glance my way. “Oh yes. I remember. You were the one who couldn’t ski.”
Lady Agnes’s eyes widened at the casual rudeness, but I smoothed over the awkward moment. “My asthma does act up in cold, dry air.”
“Lovely to see you again,” Nora said without the least trace of sincerity, then switched her attention back to Agnes. “The stupid girl lost my gloves too. They’re nowhere to be found. Dorothy will be here soon, and I must find them before I leave.”
“You probably left them in a taxi, like you did with your handbag.”
Nora’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t leave my gloves in a taxi. It’s easy to forget a handbag. One puts it down on the seat and then gets distracted, but I’d never take off my gloves in a taxi.”
Lady Agnes ignored Nora’s biting tone. “One would certainly hope not. Have a cup of tea before you leave.” Lady Agnes didn’t wait for a response but reached for the teapot. I knew I should think of Nora as Lady Mulvern, but it was hard to attach such a formal and imposing title to someone I’d seen clamber out a window to sneak a cigarette.
Lady Agnes poured the tea. “You can borrow a pair of my gloves. Speak to Carol about it.”
I expected Nora to wave away the tea, but she came around the sofa and sat down. “No sugar or cream for me.”
“Of course not.” Lady Agnes handed the tea to Nora.
Nora looked at me over the rim of her cup as she sipped. “So you’re the one who’s going to do what the police wouldn’t?”
“I’m sorry?” I’d always been wary of Nora. She reminded me of Lady Coddlingham’s dachshund. During a dry spell when I had no other work, I’d searched for the dowager’s lost dog. I’d found it huddled under a tree in the mews down the lane from the dowager’s house. It had looked so darling with its limpid eyes and fluffy ears, but it had sunk its sharp teeth into my hand when I’d gone to pick it up.
“Agnes tried to convince the police that Uncle Lawrence was murdered, but she wasn’t successful,” Nora informed me, then turned to Lady Agnes. “Is it wise to pin your hopes on an amateur?”
Annoyance rippled through me at Nora’s disdainful tone, but I tamped down my irritation. It wouldn’t do any good to alienate her. Despite Nora’s bad manners, she was Lady Mulvern. I ignored the barbs and focused on the information. “I didn’t realize there was any question about the cause of Lord Mulvern’s death,” I said to Lady Agnes.
“Not for want of trying on Agnes’s part,” Nora said.
Lady Agnes cleared her throat. “Once the police saw the note on the desk in Uncle Lawrence’s room, they didn’t seek any more information, which is unacceptable.”
After another tiny sip of tea, Nora put the cup down. “I don’t see what the problem is. We all know who did it.” Lapis, the Siamese cat, had made an unhurried circuit of the room and now paused at Nora’s knee.
“You do?” My gaze skipped from Nora to Lady Agnes.
“It’s perfectly obvious,” Nora said. “Hodges did it.”
“Hodges?” I asked.
Lady Agnes tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment of Nora’s point. “It’s possible. Lionel Hodges. Uncle Lawrence’s valet.”
“Uncle Lawrence left Hodges a bequest in his will.” I’d expected Nora to ignore the cat or shoo it away, but she angled her knees slightly toward Lapis, and the cat sprang into her lap. “A very generous bequest.” Nora ran her hand over the cat’s head. She pitched her voice higher as she said, “Wasn’t it, Lapis?”
Lapis closed her eyes and leaned into the stroking.
“Hodges had access to Uncle Lawrence’s room, and he was the last person to see Uncle Lawrence alive.” Nora lifted one shoulder. “As I said, it’s obvious.”
“So the household is convinced your uncle was murdered?” I asked.
Lady Agnes and Lady Mulvern exchanged a glance. I had a feeling the two women didn’t see eye to eye on much, but this was one topic they were in agreement on. Lady Agnes said, “Some of us think that.”
Nora added, “Of course my husband refuses to even consider Hodges might have had something to do with Uncle Lawrence’s death.” There was a strain in her voice that hadn’t been there a moment before. The cat shook its head then jumped to the floor and padded to the window.
Nora looked at her wristwatch and popped up, brushing cat hair off her skirt. “I must fly. I’m sure Dorothy is here, and I can’t miss my appointment with Madame LaFoy. I simply must have a new hat to go with my brown velvet. I have absolutely nothing that matches it.”
She sailed out of the room without saying goodbye and pulled the door closed as she left. It slammed with a bang.
“Besides knowing how to make an entrance, Nora never skips a chance to make a dramatic exit,” Lady Agnes said, then her expression turned more serious. “Perhaps we should talk about your fee?”
I shifted on the cushion. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if I can help you.”
Lady Agnes raised her eyebrows. “You don’t seem anxious to work with me.”
“Oh, I am. I’d love to delve into the situation and see if I can sort it out, but I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I’m rarely disappointed. I’m a realist. I know what I’m asking will be difficult but . . . well, we can’t go on with the situation the way it is now. Let me tell you about my uncle. In fact . . .” She stood. “You should see his work. You’ll have a better understanding then.”
I thought she was going to take me over to the desk where the rocks were spread out or to one of the crates and let me look inside, but she strode to the door and opened it. “I think you need to see the grand gallery.”