After they had said goodbye to Rose, Louisa walked with Guy to the station and outlined her plan to him and arranged for them to meet again, with Mary Moon, at Grosvenor Place the following day at eleven o’clock.
Louisa busied herself in tasks for the rest of the day and tried not to think about what might happen, but come the morning, she woke with goosepimples on her arms and legs though she was perfectly warm in her room at Cheyne Walk. It was early but the sun had come up and she took the opportunity to go down to the kitchen and have breakfast before anyone else had stirred. The household was small when it was only Diana there, just the live-in cook, Mrs Dudley, with a kitchen maid and a tweeny who came in daily. A gardener came by for an hour or two each day, largely because Diana had plants throughout the house that needed watering; a larger team oversaw the long garden at the back that seemed to run practically to the river’s edge. It was a quiet and civilised corner of the world, with a wide range of books on the shelves that both Mr and Mrs Guinness read, a growing collection of records for the gramophone player and a radio in the morning room. In only the few years since her marriage, Diana had the acquired the confidence to make Cheyne Walk entirely her own.
Having carried out her work as necessary and seen Diana off to meet Lady Halifax at Peter Jones before a luncheon in Mayfair, Louisa set off to Grosvenor Place, hurrying a little. She wasn’t late but she was enthused and the fresh breeze seemed almost to chase her down the street.
Guy and Mary were approaching the house just as Louisa turned the corner but she almost stopped when she saw there was another man with them. He looked tall and elegantly dressed from the back but when he turned around, looking up and down the street, she realized who it was: the detective who had interviewed her after Mrs Mulloney’s body had been discovered. She hadn’t enjoyed that experience much and he had shown much suspicion of her. She hoped he wouldn’t upset her plans. Mary saw her first and waved, then broke away from Guy and the other man, to catch Louisa before she reached them. Mary started to say thank you to Louisa for suggesting to Guy that he request Mary be the assistant uniform but Louisa interrupted her.
‘Is that DI Stiles?’
‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘He interviewed me for … It doesn’t matter. Why is here now?’
Mary looked apologetic. ‘The inquiry into the death of the maid was his, Guy couldn’t open it up again without his permission. He insisted on being here. But I’m sure it will be fine.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Louisa, feeling her stomach sink. ‘I don’t think he trusts me.’
‘He’ll probably have to question you. You’re a new witness, you see.’
Louisa knew there was nothing to be done so the two of them walked up to Guy and Stiles, where there was a polite exchange of handshakes and introductions. Stiles looked at Louisa without giving anything away about what he was thinking. ‘We’ve met before, of course. I’m interested to hear what you’ve got to say but I can’t help thinking this is going to be a waste of time.’
Guy stepped in then. ‘Sir, until we ask the necessary questions we won’t know for sure, but it’s very possible that Miss Cannon has pulled together various pieces of a much larger puzzle that none of us have seen.’
‘But why couldn’t we have done the interviews at the station?’
‘Because that might alert the chief suspect, sir. This way, we can make a discreet inquiry without setting off any alarms.’
‘Fine, Sullivan. I’ll let you lead the way on this but it’s going to be on my head if any of this backfires. I’d like you to keep that in mind.’ He turned to Louisa. ‘Miss Cannon, you and I will be having a chat of our own.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said.
As agreed, Louisa took them round to the back entrance, where she knocked on the door. It was opened by a maid who recognized Louisa but was taken aback to see her surrounded by two men and a policewoman. ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ said Louisa. ‘I know we look like quite a crowd but I rang yesterday and made an appointment to see Mrs Norris, she’s expecting us. Well, me.’
‘I see. You’d better come in then. She’ll be in her sitting room, I expect.’
They were left waiting in the hall while Mrs Norris was fetched, and she arrived quickly, walking with the brisk steps of every efficient housekeeper. ‘Miss Cannon,’ she acknowledged and waited for Louisa to introduce her to the assembled group.
‘May I ask what this is about? There’s rather a lot of you here.’
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ said Stiles respectfully. ‘We won’t take up any more of your time than we need to, I promise. It’s just a few quick questions. As you will remember, I led this inquiry shortly after the event, but something new has come up for our consideration and we need to take another look at what happened that night. Would you mind if you took us through the events of the evening?’
‘You’d better come through to the kitchen. Follow me.’
Feeling as if they were on a guided tour, they all walked along the narrow corridor to the kitchen, a large basement room with narrow windows along the top of the walls, just enough to let out the steam and heat on a busy night. Today, it was quiet, with the family away and only the servants to feed. Two kitchen maids stood at the wooden table that dominated the room, while a third stirred a pot on the stove. Off the kitchen were three anterooms: a still room for the pastries, a scullery for the washing up and the cook’s office. This last was practically a cupboard, with cookbooks and a desk with sheaves of old menus piled up haphazardly. A man of prodigious stature balanced on a narrow wooden chair in front of it.
‘Mr McCaffrey,’ called out the housekeeper, and he got up as quickly as his figure would allow, absent-mindedly wiping his hands on his apron.
‘What can I do you for?’ he said jovially, then took the smile off his face when he saw Mary’s police uniform.
‘The police are here,’ said Mrs Norris. ‘I’m sure they’re very sorry to interrupt your work but they have some questions about the night the maid died.’
‘I wasn’t here that night,’ said Mr McCaffrey, holding up his hands in innocence. ‘I’ve been taken on since but I’ve heard all about it. They talked of little else in here for months after.’
‘Which girls were working here the night of Elizabeth and Dot’s accident?’ asked Mrs Norris. Louisa saw the back of the girl stirring the pot stiffen, while the two chopping carrots and potatoes dared only to glance quickly up at them.
‘Meg,’ said the cook. ‘Meg, get over here.’
The girl at the stove slowly put down her wooden spoon and came over to them. She seemed to be the same age as Louisa and rather surly-looking.
‘Before we continue,’ said Guy, ‘I wonder if someone might show PC Conlon here the upstairs landing where Elizabeth and Dot stepped on to the skylight?’
Mrs Norris nodded. ‘I’ll take her myself.’
‘Take notes,’ whispered Guy to Mary. ‘It’s always possible I missed something before, like a loose latch on the railing’s gate.’ Mary nodded and followed the housekeeper out.
Stiles turned to Louisa. ‘I’d like you to wait for us. Mr McCaffrey, would you be so kind as to allow Miss Cannon to take a seat in your office while we interview Meg?’
The cook was agreeable and Louisa was sent to sit by the desk, feeling like nothing so much as a dunce sent to the back of the classroom. But she took heart that Guy was close by and would give her the details she needed to hear. She needed to know if she was right.