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“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK she will talk to us, Rosie?” Vera asked as Wadsworth pulled the car up in front of a tiny cottage on one of the village side streets.
Rosemary swallowed hard and said, “Marjorie didn’t appear to have much respect for Herbert Lock, but she had some sort of relationship with him. What I’m counting on is that she’s now even more desperate than she was before. We both know Teddy can’t stand her; her hopes of getting her money back died with Herbert, and now the only other eligible bachelor in her sights is in jail. If it comes down to it, I believe she might, in her current condition, respond to a well-worded threat.”
Vera appraised her friend and found that although fear for her brother’s freedom and reputation roiled beneath the surface, Rosemary was now operating on the sheer force of determination. “You really don’t understand just how amazing you are, Rosie dear. Let’s put the screws on her; it would make us both feel better.”
It would have made Rosemary feel better, but when Marjorie opened the front door, she lost all will to brutalize the woman. The usual sparkle was gone from her eyes, and her face was puffy from crying. She held a handkerchief in one hand, her hair stood on end, and she was wearing a robe over bare feet. “Whatever do you want?” she asked, but there was no bite to the words.
Rosemary changed tacks and answered with a gentle, “May we come in, please? I realize we hardly know one another, and I’m aware that you don’t care for me particularly, but we have a common goal.”
“There’s nothing you can do to help me, so why would I help you?”
“Correct me if I am mistaken, but I thought you enjoyed Frederick’s company. Have you no heart? You know he’s not Herbert’s killer.”
Vera could hold back no longer. “This is a ghastly business. Never mind, Rosie. It seems Marjorie hasn’t the wit to realize that bodies are dropping like flies, and hers might be the next one to fall. Leave her to her misery and let her fend for herself.” Taking her friend’s arm, she tried to pull Rosemary away.
“Wait.” Marjorie opened the door wide enough to allow her unwanted guests entry. With a look of triumph, Vera sailed inside to watch Marjorie crumple onto a comfortable if threadbare chair. Seating herself on the settee opposite, Rosemary appraised the sparse surroundings of the cottage, noting a few framed photographs of Marjorie and two people she assumed were her mother and father.
“Do you live here alone?” she asked, unable to help herself.
Resigned, Marjorie said, “Yes. If you must know, my aunt left me this cottage when she passed away. But I didn’t let you in here so you could judge me and ask a dozen questions about my personal life. My parents are dead, I have no other family to speak of anymore, and I’ve had to learn how to take care of myself. It’s left me with little patience, and you’re wearing it thin, so why don’t we just keep to the topic at hand?”
Her words had been meant to put Rosemary in her place, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit of grudging respect for Marjorie Ainsworth all the same. “All right then, why don’t you start by telling us who you think killed Mr. Cuthburt and whether you think the same person murdered Herbert.”
“I believe it’s obvious that the deaths are connected, but I don’t know who would stand to gain anything by killing Ernest Cuthburt. Of course, I didn’t know the man well, but all the interactions I’d had with him were pleasant enough. He seemed like a good egg to me.”
“Then I assume you’re not aware of his war profiteering.” Rosemary let the information slip out and watched Marjorie’s eyes widen with surprise.
“No, I wasn’t.” She shook her head. “But it doesn’t make the whole thing any clearer.”
“We agree,” Vera replied this time. “The point is, he could have had enemies. Mr. Barton did as well, and my guess is that he was the intended victim. I believe you might have a better idea of why he might have been targeted. I saw you arguing with him on the balcony.”
Marjorie lifted one eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react. Rosemary had to admit she was hard to shake. “You think I’m the one who tried to bump him off? All I wanted was my money back. Herbert thought getting close to Grace would help convince the Bartons to invest in his business venture. Perhaps if he’d done his research more thoroughly, they would have. Barton told him he needed to go back to square one and work out a more appealing proposal. Herbert switched tacks and when I made it clear I was never going to be his wife, set his sights on marrying Grace for the money. I believe he planned to cut me out entirely. I had hoped that Teddy would take a shine to me and negate the whole situation, but he made it clear he wasn’t interested.”
It appeared a difficult thing for Marjorie to admit, and her face bunched into a scowl. “So, I was left with no other option than to blackmail Mr. Barton.”
“Are you saying you’re the one who sent him the threatening letter?” Rosemary asked with bated breath.
Puzzled, Marjorie shook her head. “No, I don’t know anything about any letter. I did hear Mrs. Barton accuse her husband of being involved with a woman of loose morals, but she had no idea with whom. I simply communicated to Mr. Barton that I’d give her a name if he didn’t help me out of the jam Herbert had got me into. He was furious, but I thought perhaps I’d hit my mark. Then Mr. Cuthburt was murdered, and I had no choice but to bide my time. After Mrs. Barton’s outburst last night, it’s all out in the open, and I’m out of options. I’ll lose this house and everything else I care about.”
Rosemary felt a tingling of pity for the woman, but it was mixed with disgust when she asked, “What about my brother? Was he just another mark?”
Marjorie’s chin wobbled, and for the first time, she appeared genuinely contrite. “No, he’s not. In fact, I told Teddy the night of the party that I’d back off. I felt guilty about the blackmail attempt as soon as I’d made it, and I wanted to wash my hands of the whole thing. I know you probably don’t believe me, but that’s the truth.”
“I can’t say I’d be thrilled with the idea of you and Frederick, given the circumstances,” Rosemary said with an edge to her voice, “but I do know my brother is intrigued by your...charms. Unfortunately, it won’t matter if he’s convicted on two counts of murder.”
“What can I do? I don’t know who killed either of them,” Marjorie said, her eyes sliding away from Rosemary’s.
“But you have a suspicion, don’t you?” Rosemary prodded.
Marjorie sighed. “I know Grace threatened Herbert. She told him he’d be sorry if he continued to pursue her, and I know that her father still considered Herbert a viable suitor. He’d played his cards well enough to convince Mr. Barton that he was merely a novice businessman with potential. I doubt Grace took too well to her protests falling on deaf ears.”
Vera’s eye caught Rosemary’s, and she hung her head. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come down to that, but you might be right.” She couldn’t deny Grace Barton had the strongest motive. “We’ll take it from here, but if you want even a slim chance of getting closer to my brother, you’ll cooperate with us if it becomes necessary.”
“You have my word.”
