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ROSEMARY WOKE THE NEXT morning with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Without Vera’s comforting presence by her side, nightmares had intruded on her subconscious, and images of each of her loved ones being sent to the gallows kept her from getting a wink of decent sleep.
Not that she blamed Vera for wanting to stay behind with Mrs. Blackburn.
Eventually, Rosemary would have to return to London and go back to her cold, empty bed anyway. She sighed and readied herself for the day. A good strong cup of tea would wake her up, she hoped, as she headed downstairs for breakfast.
Frederick was already seated, looking a little worse for wear. “Did you sleep at all?” she asked.
“No, not really. And it doesn’t appear that you did, either, dear sister. Nightmares?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
She nodded while loading her plate with buttered toast, steaming eggs, and perfectly cooked sausages. The rest of the family trickled in, and soon they were all seated around the dining room table. An unusual hush had settled over the group, though it was clear the events of the previous evening and the murder of Ernest Cuthburt were still fresh on everyone’s mind.
“I don’t know how you’re able to withstand this pressure, Freddie, and still seem like your jolly old self,” Stella’s husband said, shaking his head in astonishment. Rosemary, both irritated by her brother’s ability and impressed with it at the same time, couldn’t help but agree.
He flashed them both a toothy grin, though Rosemary thought she might have caught a niggle of doubt under the surface.
“The evidence they have isn’t enough to put me away. Several people were milling about the house, so why I would be top of the list is beyond me. I couldn’t have fired a gun with any precision, given the state I was in, regardless. They’ll move on and find the real killer, eventually.”
“Proximity may play less of a factor than the inspector believes,” Leonard stated. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find there was a secret passage.” His observation set off a discussion about where such a passage might be concealed and who might have had access.
A lively debate ensued until Rosemary asked the maid to fetch her sketchbook and attempted to draw the house from memory. All discussion of dimensions was cut short and promptly forgotten when the doorbell rang several times in quick succession.
Moments later, the butler ushered Inspector Whittington through the dining room door, and Rosemary felt a profound sense of déjà vu. Max’s expression was similar to the one he had worn the last time he had interrupted breakfast at Woolridge House, except this time, it held even more regret and foreboding.
“Frederick Woolridge, I’m here to place you under arrest,” Max said, looking at Rosemary and then Mr. and Mrs. Woolridge with an apology in his eyes. “For the murders of Ernest Cuthburt and Herbert Lock.”
A stunned silence followed Max’s statement, and then the room erupted into chaos.
“Oh my heavens,” Mrs. Woolridge breathed and then fainted into the arms of her butler, who appeared surprised to have found himself in such a position. Rosemary was thankful for his quick reflexes but didn’t have time to worry about her mother’s latest dramatic reaction to bad news.
“Herbert Lock is dead?” she asked, stunned.
Mr. Woolridge’s voice held more emotion than Rosemary had ever heard it possess before, “You’ve made a mistake!”
“I sincerely hope so, but yes, Herbert Lock was found in his room at the inn. The innkeeper found him and called us early this morning. It seems he was shot with the same gun that killed Mr. Cuthburt. Because we have verified Mrs. Blackburn’s whereabouts for the time of Cuthburt’s murder, she’s no longer a suspect. Frederick’s altercation with Lock last night pushed him to the top of the list.”
The inspector turned to Frederick. “I’m afraid I will have to take you in now. I’ll delay the inquest as long as possible, but unless some new evidence surfaces soon...”
Rosemary had never seen Max at a loss for words, and it made her blood run cold. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself to keep from breaking down.
“The chief inspector has returned, and it’s his belief that your brother murdered Mr. Cuthburt over some bad business. I’m beginning to understand why Andrew went private, Rose. The man won’t listen to reason. Unfortunately, it’s been confirmed that Frederick and Herbert had a row last night and that it turned physical. It was a gunshot wound to the head that killed him, but I can’t ignore that the two of them came to fisticuffs mere hours before his death. Furthermore, it seems Frederick walked home from Mrs. Blackburn’s, which gives him opportunity.”
Turning to Frederick, he said, “If there is any proof you arrived home before the time this murder occurred, out with it now. I believe it might be your only hope.”
Rosemary’s face went white as a sheet. “We’ll have to consult the staff, but the house was quiet when I arrived home at approximately half past midnight. I saw a light under Frederick’s door and heard him moving around in there on my way to bed. What was the time of death?”
“Between half past ten and half past eleven. I'm told the party broke up at around half past nine, which means the deceased had just enough time to get back to the inn, clean himself up, and get ready to sleep. His pyjamas were laid out on the bed, but he had yet to don them when the killer arrived.”
“Which means, in all likelihood, my brother doesn’t have a solid alibi. Did anyone see you arrive home, Freddie?” she asked, looking around at everyone in the room.
Frederick shook his head, for once not looking so self-assured, and it was clear from the expressions on the rest of their family’s faces that nobody else could honestly say they were positive of the time he had arrived at Woolridge House.
Max reluctantly led Frederick to the front door, only stopping long enough for Mrs. Woolridge to wrap her arms around her son and sob uncontrollably. Her husband had to force her to let Frederick go, and Rosemary could tell from the look on Max’s face he deeply regretted having to be the one to cause her family more pain. The look in his eyes said it all.
“I promise all of you I’ll do whatever I can. Rosemary, I fear much of the responsibility will rest on your shoulders now. Do whatever you need to do, but keep your family and your friends around you. Stay safe, and contact me if you find out anything useful. Mr. Woolridge, Mrs. Woolridge.” He nodded to them on his way out, his head hung low.
Once the car containing Frederick had pulled out of the drive, Mrs. Woolridge lost her composure entirely and had to be escorted to her room and administered a sedative. Rosemary wished she could take one herself and simply wake up discovering that this whole ordeal had been one bad dream. Instead, she summoned Vera and went to work.
