Page 23 of Evidence of Evil
“Inspector Omand, my dear,” Solomon said. “Inspector, Mrs. Grey. I see you find it odd that she should use the back door and I the front.”
“No, I find the whole situation odd,” Omand said. “HasSir Humphrey employed you in any capacity?”
“Of course not. We are just trying to help.”
“I am an old friend of Lady Maule’s,” Constance said, taking Solomon’s arm in the familiar fashion of a wife. “I brought my husband to meet her and discovered this terrible tragedy on their doorstep.”
“I see.” Omand’s eyes were shrewd but not hostile.
“I suppose,” Solomon said, “there is no doubt in your mind that thisismurder and not an accident?”
“We weren’t called in soon enough, sir,” Omand said regretfully. “Between you and me, there is nothing to prove one or the other. Both would appear to be impossible. Excuse me, sir, madam.”
“What on earth was all that about?” Constance asked, beginning to walk toward the drive.
Since she still had hold of his arm, Solomon had to either remove it or walk with her. He chose the latter for any number of reasons.
“Oh, just making myself known to Scotland Yard. He’s not much like Inspector Harris, is he?”
“It’s the young one who concerns me,” Constance said.
No doubt she had heard and understood everything, which annoyed him for some reason he could not fathom.
“He has a large chip on his shoulder,” he agreed.
She glanced up at him, frowning. “Does that happen to you often?”
“What?” he asked vaguely, for he didn’t want to talk about it. But she spoke again before he could change the subject.
“Reasonless insolence.”
He sighed. “It is not reasonless to them. They have been brought up to imagine the skin makes the man. To be fair, he had a dashed good look first.”
She curled her lip. “At least the inspector appears to have some sense.Doesit happen often?”
He should have known better than to imagine he could put her off. “Not to me. I am not obviously EuropeanorAfrican, so people tend to view me as they wish. I suspect Napier may have come off worse in some dockside raid or other and acquired another chip for his overburdened shoulder. Did you know that Frances was all but engaged to Maule before she went to India?”
“Rats,” said Constance, scowling. “I wanted to tellyouthat. I just learned it from John Niall.”
“Napier told me. And he was right about one thing—it does imply a real reason for Elizabeth to be jealous.”
“What worries me,” Constance said, “is why neither she nor Sir Humphrey troubled themselves to tell us. Why would they keep it from us?”
“To convince us of Elizabeth’s innocence.”
“I am already convinced. They can’t have imagined it would remain a secret once we started asking questions!”
“Maybe they didn’t realize we would. Perhaps they envisioned us sitting in contemplation of the few facts until the solution made itself clear.”
“Well, now they know. No wonder Sir Humphrey bolted. But if they didn’t even tell us that, what else are they keeping back?”
“I suggest we do our best to find out this afternoon. Or at least after we’ve bearded the doctor. What did you learn from the Grange servants?”
Constance wrinkled her nose. “Little enough. Bingham, Frances’s maid, confirmed the story of being sent home from the lake in the dark and never seeing her mistress again. Apparently, Frances was a kind mistress, though Bingham has only been employed since they returned to India. The other servants, some of whom had known her before India, said much the same sort of things. But then, I suppose they would with the dead woman’s brother breathing down their necks.”
“Did he?” Solomon asked, surprised.
“Did he what?”
