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LITTLE NELLY ACCOSTED Rosemary two steps inside Woolridge House’s entrance hall, and once again, she allowed herself to be caught up in the delicate smell of his soft, baby-like hair. “Why didn’t you take me out on the horses, Auntie Rose?” he asked, his lower lip jutting out into an irresistible pout.
“Grown-up time, my little lamb. Before I leave to go back to London, I promise to take you riding. I am sure Wadsworth here,” she pointed to her man, who had just arrived from the adjacent dining room, “would be happy to take you in my stead.” She winked at Wadsworth, who blanched at the thought of riding, an activity Rosemary knew, despite his proficiency, he did not fully enjoy.
“Of course, Master Lionel,” Wadsworth confirmed, refusing to meet Rosemary’s gaze even though his lip quivered from holding back the urge to speak his mind. He wouldn’t, as it would not be appropriate, but Rosemary guessed he would find a way to subtly get back at her later. Perhaps with another forced shopping trip that would finally result in actual money being spent. For now, all her thoughts stayed focused on helping clear her brother and Mrs. Blackburn from suspicion. Shenanigans with the staff would have to wait.
Stella and Leonard had just sat down for tea in the dining room, and Rosemary found them there with her mother, father, and Vera.
“Have Teddy and Grace gone back to Barton Manor?” she asked, sitting down and pouring a cup of tea for herself and one for Vera.
Vera nodded. “Yes. Grace claimed she had something to do this afternoon, and Teddy accompanied her back to the house to ensure she made it there safely. I believe he has become paranoid, given the circumstances.”
“And where did my dear brother wander off to?” Rosemary asked.
Mr. Woolridge answered her question. “I sent him to the office to deliver some documents that needed signing. Perhaps there, he can stay out of trouble.”
“I simply cannot believe the three of you!” Evelyn suddenly burst out. “Do you not listen to a single word that comes out of my mouth? I warned you about getting further involved with the Bartons, but what do you do? Set about making friends and bringing them onto our property! What on earth could you possibly be thinking?” she demanded.
Mr. Woolridge’s mouth set in a thin line while the rest of the family attempted to keep their jaws from dropping on the table. “Evelyn,” he scolded, “the children are involved in this matter whether we like it or not. We all are, even Stella and Leonard, who would be peripherally affected if the police determined one of us had reason to want Ernest Cuthburt dead. What do you expect Frederick to do? Just sit back and let Inspector Whittington haul him out of here in handcuffs?”
Evelyn's face paled with chagrin at her outburst and at having been chastised by her husband in front of her entire family. Cecil reached across the table to pat her gently on the hand, a loving expression on his face. “I know you were only trying to help, my love, but our children are grown, and they can make their own decisions. Personally, I feel better knowing our Rosie is on the case. She sees things more clearly than the rest of us.”
“Not everything.” Ignoring Vera’s comment on her lack of a love life, Rosemary felt a rush of gratitude and love for her father. It wasn’t like him to lay praise on so thickly, and it bolstered her confidence in herself.
“Father is right about one thing. We can’t sit back and let the police focus on Frederick. We have to look at the rest of the suspects and figure out who committed the crime before they do.”
“Why don’t you tell us what you know, Rose?” her father asked, sitting back in his seat and folding his hands in his lap. All eyes were on her, and so Rosemary launched into an explanation of the facts.
“Firstly, don't invest that money with the Barton business until Teddy and his father finish taking a thorough look through the company records for anything suspect. Teddy claims Mr. Barton wants his business run legitimately. Whether those wishes are due to Mr. Barton’s genuine concern over being above board or whether Teddy put on some pressure is another mystery.”
Evelyn clicked her teeth and tongue in a tutting sound that held an edge of triumph. “Didn’t I say the Bartons weren’t to be trusted?”
Slanting her mother a look, Rosemary continued. “Max—Inspector Whittington—is concerned with our family’s involvement, as the sum Father was planning to invest may have been exactly what they needed to legitimize the business.”
Leonard, of all people, spoke up then. “Wouldn’t that put your brother out of the running as a suspect? He has nothing to gain by killing either Barton or Cuthburt if what everyone wanted amounted to the same thing.”
“As far as motive goes, yes, one would think. However, as time goes by, and there is pressure to close the case, the inspector fears the local police won’t be as concerned about motives or what makes sense as they are about finding enough evidence to pinch someone. Anyone. Thankfully, Frederick is only one suspect, but unfortunately, now Vera’s mother is another.”
Mrs. Woolridge gasped and settled back in her chair, one hand fanning her face as though she might faint. Hers was an extreme reaction compared to Vera’s; Rosemary’s friend looked at her with shock-widened eyes, then set her jaw and said nothing. Then again, she didn’t need to voice her outrage since Evelyn spoke the words that would have popped out of her mouth anyway. “That’s preposterous! Lorraine is not a killer any more than Frederick is!”
“I know, Mother, and for now, all Max has is a tissue-paper motive and a theory. According to the inspector, Lorraine hated Ernest Cuthburt.”
Rosemary explained how Cuthburt had snatched away the possibility of Lorraine appearing in the play she had her heart set on. “The police don’t care if that’s a thin motive; people have killed for less. That’s why I need all of you to engage in a little subterfuge with me. We’re going to continue on with our plans to have a party at the Blackburn house tonight, and we’re going to find out whatever we can from the other suspects. Vera and I will talk to her mother.”
“Unfortunately, anyone who had opportunity to kill Cuthburt seems to lack motive and vice versa. Except for Lorraine,” she directed at Vera, “who had both, if you can call losing out on the opportunity to star in a play motive for murder. Max seems to think the authorities might.”
“What about the rest?” her father asked. “Certainly, someone else had both motive and opportunity.”
“They do. Unfortunately, the other most likely suspect is Frederick, and your mother’s statement that someone was locked inside the loo doesn’t completely exonerate him. It does, however, prove she was in the entrance hall and could have sneaked upstairs to kill Cuthburt after the maid left her alone,” Rosemary lamented.
Vera's nose crinkled as she frowned deeply. “For that matter, Grace could have done the same thing as could have Mrs. Barton. She believes her husband has been stepping out with another woman. That gives her a motive for killing him, and she appears capable if the scorching looks she shoots every woman in every room is an indication.”
The tea had gone cold, but Rosemary gulped hers down without noticing. “The trouble is proximity. People came and went from the ballroom at such short intervals, and while the study is near enough to hear the party with the windows open, it takes time to navigate the halls and stairs between them.”
Running down the list of possibilities, Rosemary and Vera discussed alibis.
“Mrs. Barton claims she retreated to the kitchens to speak to the butler, but Geoffrey says it was actually Grace he spoke to during that time. Which means neither of them was in the ballroom at the opportune moment. Either of them could have gone upstairs, killed Cuthburt thinking he was Mr. Barton, and then hurried back down.” Rosemary sighed. Max was right, the case was one big circle. “Unless there was a shortcut between the two rooms, nearly everyone with a motive was seen near the ballroom too close to the time of the murder.”
“It’s quite common to install—” Leonard began to say something, but Vera cut him off.
“Grace. It had to be Grace.” She banged a fist on the table. “Grace’s demeanor changed partway through the night.”
“Yes, it did,” Rosemary agreed. “I assumed her nerves were because of her run-in with Herbert Lock, but perhaps that was a convenient cover. What’s more, she’s the only one who admits to seeing the letter threatening Mr. Barton’s life.”
More determined, now that her mother was a suspect, to get to the bottom of the thing, Vera played devil’s advocate. “Still, she’d have to be an utter piker to drag you out here, Rosie, then bump off her old man. It couldn’t have been her, I don’t think, after all.”
“Neither do I,” Rosemary agreed. “As for the rest, Teddy was in the billiard room, alibied by several other gentlemen who were also present. Marjorie pulled him away, but she could have fetched him directly after killing Cuthburt and used him for her own alibi. Except Marjorie seems to have no motive.”
The deconstruction of the crime went on for several more minutes.
“Mr. Abbot claims he saw Frederick at the bottom of the stairs and that his actions were suspicious. Considering Freddie was so drunk he doesn’t even remember collecting himself and leaving the loo, it’s no surprise he appeared to be in distress. Abbot had excused himself to find a quiet place to administer his insulin injection, and the doctor he has on call verified that he received it. The man is a pillar of the medical community, so his statement holds water.”
Vera stood and paced, picking up where Rosemary had left off. “And then there’s Herbert Lock, who you and Grace left on the balcony after their altercation. He has no alibi, he’s been cavorting around with Marjorie Ainsworth, and I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“I think we all share that sentiment. Everyone else, including Mr. Barton, never left the ballroom, that much we know for sure since you were both there.” Rosemary looked at her mother and father, who nodded in agreement. “As far as I’m concerned, Herbert as the killer makes the most sense. He was already angry. If he’d had an unpleasant conversation with Mr. Barton or Mr. Cuthburt that evening, he might have acted out of desperation in the heat of the moment. His alibi is thin, and he has a temper.”
Some of the animation went out of Vera. “This is all predicated on Mr. Barton being the intended corpse. What if Cuthburt was as much a bounder as Max says? I mean, if he treated my mother so spitefully, who’s to say she was the only person who ended up on the wrong side of him?”
Cuthburt appearing to have no enemies put a massive spanner in the works of the whole case. It was a thought that stuck with Rosemary for the rest of the afternoon, no matter how hard she tried to dislodge it.
