Page 18 of Evidence of Evil
“Oh, perfectly, apart from the sorrow and anxiety, of course. No point in beating about the bush to friends, so I’ll tell you straight out—that’s why we’ve come. Grey here is something of a solver of puzzles, so I’ve asked him to look into this matter of poor Frances’s death.”
John’s eyebrows flew up in amazement—which was nothing to the reaction of his father, who was turning purple.
“By what right,” the colonel demanded furiously, “do you dare involve strangers—”
“By the right you handed to me when you accused my wife of this unspeakable crime without evidence or reason,” Mauleretorted. “To say nothing of my rights as magistrate. I brought Scotland Yard here at your request, and now I bring other good people who might be strangers to you but are my guests!”
The two fierce men glared at each other. John offered a faint, resigned smile. “Thank God,” he murmured. “Tea. Guaranteed to calm the trickiest situation.”
“Would you like me to pour, sir?” Constance offered.
A spasm crossed the colonel’s face. “If you would be so good,” he said with at least an attempt at grace. “In any case, those wretched policemen are useless,” he flung at Sir Humphrey. “They hang around here looking important, asking idiot questions. I’ve told them where to look, but do they?”
“Yes,” said Sir Humphrey. “I had to send them away yesterday with a flea in their collective ears.”
“What is the point,” Solomon asked mildly, “of summoning the police here to find the truth, if you then refuse to answer their questions?”
“Well said,” John murmured.
“Because they’re not asking therightquestions!” Colonel Niall exploded.
“You mean they haven’t hanged my wife out of hand yet!” Sir Humphrey growled.
“Investigators,” Solomon said, his soft voice in startling contrast to strident tones of the older men, “detectives, if you will, are useful because they are dispassionate. They look into all possibilities in search of evidence, from which they try to discover the truth. No one wants a medieval-style witch hunt of accusation and counteraccusation, do they?” He glanced from Sir Humphrey to Colonel Niall and hurried on, perhaps in case he was assured that this was exactly what they wanted. “However, may I ask you a few courteous questions?”
“Yes,” said John before his father could open his mouth. “Please do.”
Solomon glanced at father and son. “Did you both know that Miss Niall went to call on Lady Maule last Wednesday evening?”
“Yes!” said the colonel triumphantly.
“But not until the following day,” John said, “when Bingham, her maid, told us.”
“Bingham being the maid who accompanied her?” Constance asked.
John nodded. “Frances’s personal maid.”
“Why do you think she didn’t tell you where she was going?” Solomon asked.
The father and son exchanged looks. John said, “My sister was something of a free spirit. She did not like to be tied down, and my father would certainly have forbidden her from going out on foot, as night was falling. So she simply didn’t tell him. Or me. Worcester knew they had gone, though.”
“But he did not tell the colonel?” Solomon pounced.
John gave a sad little smile. “My sister had all the servants wrapped around her little finger. They would do anything for her.”
“Was this not rather a dangerous thing she asked of them? To keep her expedition in the dark from her family?”
“It wasn’t quite dark when she left,” John said, “and besides, it isn’t dangerous around here if one keeps to the road and the main paths.”
Colonel Niall’s face twisted. “Or at least it wasn’t until that female—”
Sir Humphrey sprang to his feet, his fists clenched.
“Papa!” John said sharply.
The colonel subsided, muttering beneath his breath, and Maule, red-faced and furious, sat down stiffly on the edge of his seat. Had it not been for Solomon and Constance, he would surely have stormed out, never to darken the Niall doorstep again.
“Very well,” Solomon said. “When did Bingham say she came back here?”
