Page 72 of Ghost in the Garden
“I see.” Harris turned his gaze on Constance. “I hesitate to ask, but how did you know that Mr. Lambert was dead?”
“We found him,” Constance said. “You know Mrs. Lambert employed us to find out about the ghostly figure seen in the mist by herself and several of the servants. We had worked out that she came on regular days, so we lay in wait for her this evening, to confirm her identity and discover what she was doing here. We followed her into the cellar from the garden.”
“When, precisely?”
“About seven. Just after Bert the footman checked that the door to the mews at the bottom of the garden was locked.”
Harris frowned. “The same time Mr. Lambert went into the cellar. Did you see him? Hear him?”
“No,” Constance said. But Harris was right. They should have heard Lambert. Especially if he come for a bottle of wine—he would have come all the way down the cellar steps to where the racks of wine bottles stood, and where they had confronted Iris Fraser. They must have missed the murder by mereseconds.
“And how did she get into the cellar?” Harris demanded.
“With a key. She had it with her.”
Angela threw back her head and opened her suddenly burning eyes wide, glaring at Harris. “She had a key! She murdered my husband.”
Harris blinked. “I don’t see how or when. Who is this woman?”
“Iris Fraser,” Solomon said. “Her husband collected the rents at the tenement that collapsed in St. Giles.”
“Did he, by God?” Harris said.
“She was my husband’s mistress,” Angela said, a weird mixture of humiliation and triumph echoing through her voice. “He was done with her and she murdered him!”
Constance stared at the woman. The certainty in Angela’s voice was so convincing that, just for a moment, she believed her. Silence pressed around them.
“That isn’t actually possible,” Solomon said. “We watched her come through the door from the mews, and we followed her straight into the cellar, where she was never out of our sight, even for an instant.”
Angela turned away. “It was her,” she said stubbornly. “She had a key. She could have come in at any time. And out again. She could even have run out the front door and round to the mews just to fool you.”
“How would she even know to do that?” Solomon asked gently.
“Well, you’d questioned her already, hadn’t you?” Angela retorted. “She knew who you were. She fooled you into giving her an alibi.”
Harris said firmly, “You have to leave such deductions to us, ma’am. We’ll get to the truth of the matter, from the evidence. You won’t mind my speaking to your servants?”
Angela raised a weary hand. “Do what you must.”
Harris rose to his feet. “Thank you, ma’am. I won’t detain you any longer this evening.”
Angela, already lost in her own thoughts, seemed barely to hear him. He turned away, then abruptly spun back to face her.
“How long have you known about your husband’s affair with this Iris Fraser?”
“For sure? Only since he told me last night.”
“And what makes you think your husband ended the affair? Did he tell you that too?”
“Yes, he did.” Sudden color swept through her white face, but she looked Harris in the eye. “We were intimate last night. For the first time in many weeks. Believe me, Iknowit was over.” She jerked her head very slightly toward Constance. “Sheknows it, too.”
To her annoyance, heat seeped into Constance’s face. The men in the room were all looking at her.
She lifted her chin. “I slept in the dressing room off Mrs. Lambert’s bedroom. I heard Mr. Lambert’s voice, so I know he was there last night. I have no idea what they talked about.”
They had most certainly made love, but she had no intention of confirming that, and she was fairly sure Inspector Harris would not ask her.
She was right.
