MURDOCH WAS ADMITTED into the house by a young, frightened-looking maid.
“I’m Detective Murdoch. Is the doctor with your mistress?”
“Yes, sir. They’re in the drawing room.”
Even in the hall, he could hear the sound of anguished weeping. “Would you announce me. Just speak quietly to the doctor.”
“Yes, sir.”
She disappeared through the chenille portière of the drawing room, and Murdoch began to pace up and down slowly. He tried to concentrate on one of the paintings on the wall, a fierce biblical scene of Abraham about to sacrifice Isaac. It was a story that Murdoch had never liked, as blind obedience was not his idea of virtue regardless of whether you believed the order was from God. The crying stopped abruptly and the maid emerged followed by Dr. Ogden, whose face was stiff with strain.
“You can speak to her now, Mr. Murdoch, but not for long. Please ask only the most pertinent of questions.”
She stood aside to let him enter, then followed him into a small dark room, its furnishings heavy and sombre. Mrs. Howard was seated on the sofa, a hoop of needlework beside her. What jolted him was that the informal silk tea gown she was wearing revealed she was enceinte, perhaps six months.
“Louisa, this is Detective Murdoch. He needs to ask you some questions. Can you do your best?”
The other woman managed to nod. She had fine reddish-brown hair and was probably normally fair-skinned, but now her face was blotched with red, her eyes already shadowed.
Without being asked, Murdoch sat down on the nearest chair across from her. He felt he was less intimidating that way. Dr. Ogden took the chair to his right.
“Mrs. Howard, please accept my deepest condolences. I would not trouble you at a time like this, but I want to find the man who is responsible for this crime and I need to act promptly.”
He had taken out his pen and notebook when he was in the hall and he kept them discreetly at his side.
“First of all, will you tell me when you last saw your husband?”
She could barely manage a whisper and he had to lean forward to hear her.
“We had our luncheon together as we usually do. He left just before one o’clock. Tuesday is his day to be in his office.” She licked her lips. “Could I have some water?”
Dr. Ogden immediately stood up and tugged the bell pull beside the fireplace.
Murdoch resumed. “Was it common knowledge that your husband would be in his office at that time?”
“I assume it was. He was there on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The other afternoons, he made calls in the parish.” She broke off. “My husband was one of Christ’s most diligent servants, Mr. Murdoch. Who would do such a thing to him?” There was a rising note of hysteria in her voice. The doctor came over to her and laid a hand on her head.
“Louisa, calm yourself.”
There was a tap at the door and Dr. Ogden went to answer it.
After a short, whispered conversation, she closed the door and returned to Mrs. Howard.
“Doris says that Mr. Drummond is here. He would like to speak to you. Do you want to receive him?”
Louisa had been slumped against the back of the sofa, but she suddenly sat upright.
“No, I will not. How dare he come here!”
“I’m sure he wishes to express his condolences, my dear,” said the doctor soothingly.
“He does not. He wishes to gloat.” Louisa was virtually shouting.
Dr. Ogden pursed her lips. She turned to Murdoch.
“As you can see, Mrs. Howard is in no condition to be interviewed. I must administer a sedative and perhaps you should return to the church.”
“Of course.” He picked up his notebook. “One more question, if you please. Mrs. Howard, was your husband in the habit of wearing a pocket watch?”
“Yes, he had a lovely silver engraved one that had belonged to his father. Why do you ask? Has it gone?”
“It appears to have been snatched from his waistcoat.”
Louisa abruptly got to her feet. “I want to see him. I want to see Charles,” she said to the doctor.
“Absolutely not. I cannot allow it.”
To Murdoch’s distress, the widow turned to him. “You are the detective in charge. Surely it is up to you. It is my right to see my own husband.”
“That is true, Mrs. Howard, but I do not recommend it. Better to remember him as he was.”
But he regretted the words even as they left his mouth. Her imagination was going to paint the picture now. She was going to fill in what he hadn’t said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. But he knew whatever she might imagine had happened could not possibly be as shocking as the actual thing.
“Louisa, you really must …” At that moment they heard voices outside in the hall.
“I have sent for some of the women to be with you. I have to return to the church.”
Mrs. Howard caught the doctor by the hand. “How shall I tell the children?”
“You won’t tell them anything for now. When I have finished my duties I will come back and deal with it for you.”
“Who is here?”
“The Misses Frobishers and Mrs. Watson.”
“Not Miss Dignam. I will not see her. Nor Miss Flowers.”
“No, not them. Just the ones I mentioned.”
Just then, they heard the sound of the door knocker, followed almost immediately by a man’s voice, raised and excited. The door opened and a man burst in, Doris following helplessly behind him.
“Mrs. Howard, my dear lady –” He halted when he saw Murdoch and Dr. Ogden. “I beg your pardon. I was just at the church and heard the news. I had to come and see you.”
“This is Reverend Swanzey,” said Louisa. “Dr. Ogden and Detective Murdoch.”
Swanzey hovered awkwardly by the door. “Have you arrested the culprit yet?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Do we know what happened?”
“Mr. Murdoch says that Charles’s watch has been stolen.”
“Ah, a burglar then, I thought it must be that.”
“Why so, sir?” Murdoch asked. He’d kept his voice neutral, but Swanzey flinched.
“Charles Howard didn’t have an enemy in the world. He was truly a vicar of Christ on earth.”
His words made the new widow weep once more, exhausted, almost tearless crying that was painful to see. Dr. Ogden went and sat beside her.
“I have asked some of the women from the parish to stay with Mrs. Howard,” she said, her tone making it clear this was no place for men. Swanzey promptly edged toward the door. He was a tall, gangly man of middle age with a lantern jaw and bristling side whiskers. The wind had reddened his cheeks and nose in an unattractive way. His awkwardness was not soothing.
“Of course. I don’t wish to intrude, but I couldn’t, er. I couldn’t not come.” He turned to Mrs. Howard and gave her a quick bow. “I will call tomorrow. If there is anything at all I can do, please send for me.”
She gave him a wan smile. “Thank you, that is very kind.” She began to stroke her distended stomach in an unconscious search of comfort. Murdoch noticed the embroidery she had been working on was a nursery sampler.
Swanzey bowed again to Murdoch. “Good day, sir. I will make myself available at any time if you need to speak to me.”
He backed out of the room, and Dr. Ogden exchanged a look with Murdoch. It was time for him to leave as well.
“Mrs. Howard, I will have to come back at a later time. Again please accept my sincerest sympathy.”
She nodded and turned her head away. He was now the enemy.
Out in the hall, Murdoch tipped his hat to the three women who were standing there. Older, respectable women whose faces reflected the shock and sorrow of what they had heard, they were here to offer support to the new widow. He wondered how many times through the centuries women had come in such a way to comfort their bereaved sisters.