Page 23 of Murder at the Dinner Party
Lady Campbell made a subtle motion to stop her husband’s tirade. He dutifully shut his mouth and took a step back. Lady Campbell regarded me with an icy gaze. Where her husband was all bluster and bluntness, her anger was cold and sharp and far more intimidating. She sat on the sofa in a dress of black and cream that showed off her lush bosom and tiny waist. The hourglass figure was unusual on women her age and somehow made her more intimidating. I stayed silent as I waited for her to speak.
“What did you same your name is?”
“Cleopatra Fox.”
She didn’t seem to recognize me from yesterday, thankfully. I had no doubt she’d immediately complain to my aunt after this meeting if she had.
“Miss Fox, as my husband has explained, the police concluded that Hardy’s death was the result of natural causes. Your inquiries are not only unnecessary, they are also upsetting. We are in mourning. Kindly inform your client that there is no need for an investigation.”
I didn’t believe they would be mourning a butler who’d only worked for them for a month, but I kept my mouth shut. “That may be the case, but I’d like to know for certain—”
“We aretellingyou, there is no need for an investigation. Now, if you don’t leave, Davey will throw you out.”
The footman swallowed heavily.
“If you come back, we’ll press charges for trespass. Is that clear?”
“Very.” I walked toward Davey, but turned back to her. “Are you blocking my investigation because you’re protecting the Whitchurches?”
The mention of their friends startled both Sir Ian and Lady Campbell. She suddenly stood, revealing a threadbare patch on the sofa cushion that she’d been hiding with her skirts. Now that I’d seen it, I noticed other signs of wear and tear on the furniture. They were all old, solid pieces with beautiful carvings and intricate inlays of different woods. But they were scratched and stained, the lamp shades had faded, and the chairs didn’t match. It was as if they’d once belonged to different sets in different rooms but the other pieces had been thrown away or lost over the years and these were all that were left. It was the sort of furniture found in an ancestral country manor. Too good to throw out, but too costly to restore to its former glory. It seemed the Campbells used the dining room to impress their guests, but left the other rooms to gradually lose their luster.
“What have the Whitchurches got to do with anything?” Sir Ian demanded.
“Mr. Hardy behaved oddly after he learned they were coming here, and on the evening they dined with you, they recognized him.”
I was a little concerned that they’d realize Davey had given me that information, but it didn’t seem to occur to them that he was my source. They were blinded by their anger, or perhaps they’d forgotten that servants were capable of making observations.
“How did the Whitchurches know Mr. Hardy?” I persisted.
“You should go, Miss Fox,” Lady Campbell snapped.
Sir Ian clicked his fingers at Davey.
I saved Davey the trouble of manhandling me and left of my own accord. At the front door, I whispered that I’d like to speak to Mrs. Turner. I left, but instead of walking down the street, I trotted down the stairs to the basement service area and knocked.
The maid, Betty, opened the door. “Miss Fox! Weren’t you just upstairs?”
Davey came up behind her, a little short of breath. He must have run from upstairs after closing the front door. “That was a trial by fire. You all right, Miss Fox?”
“I’m made of sturdy stuff, Davey, but thank you. May I come in? I’d like to speak to Mrs. Turner.”
Betty led the way along the corridor while Davey brought up the rear.
“I reckon you’ll need a nice cup of tea after that. Or something stronger.”
“I’m all right, thank you.”
“What happened?” Betty asked.
“Sir Ian and Lady C blew their hats off when Miss Fox here asked to see Hardy’s references. I’ve never seen them like that. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him from down here.”
“They don’t usually lose their tempers?” I asked.
They both shook their heads.
Mrs. Turner emerged from her office upon hearing our voices. Davey told her what had just occurred in the drawing room.
“All because Miss Fox here wanted to see Hardy’s records.” He shook his head. “Real angry they were. Real angry. I hope I don’t have to see them before they cool down.”
