A Conspiracy of Ravens (31 page)

He said now, “I’ll get dressed as quick as I can, sir.”

The group that had gathered in the smaller parlour had fallen silent. The silence was somewhat oppressive, and finally Arthur turned to say to Trevor, “Well, how do you like your new life, Trevor? How do you feel about it?”

“Not as well as I’d like.” Trevor shrugged. “I don’t fit in.”

Arthur smiled wryly and shook his head. “My situation exactly.”

St. John was standing across the room looking out the window. When he heard this conversation, he said, “Well, it must be contagious. It’s my situation also. I don’t seem to fit in.” He turned to see Trevor’s look of surprise and laughed shortly without humor. “I suppose you’ve noticed that we’re not always a happy family here. I don’t know why you’re feeling out of place, Trevor. You stepped into a good thing. You’ll be the Earl of Darby someday.”

Trevor felt uncomfortable around St. John. He knew the man resented him, and he had no knowledge of how to handle such things in this world. “I don’t know ’ow to be an earl,” he said simply.

“Why, the important thing, Trevor, is to be generous to your dependent relations!”

“Don’t talk foolishness, Bramwell!” Leah said coldly.

“It’s not foolishness, Mother. It’s the way the world wags. Don’t you agree, Uncle Arthur?”

Arthur shook his head sadly. “I hope the situation doesn’t come up for a long time. Edward is a strong man. He’ll live for many years, I pray.”

Rupert suddenly came to the door. “The police have come,” he said. “I want you to be very careful what you say to them. Say nothing of your personal affairs.”

“Why, we have nothing to hide, Rupert,” Arthur said with some surprise.

Rupert’s eyes were hooded, and he said in almost a whisper, “Everyone has something to hide.”

NINETEEN

T
wo gentlemen to see you, sir.”

“Show them in, Rosie.”

Septimus and Serafina had gone to the small parlour with the other family members, and Edward had moved into his study to think. When Rosie entered, he stood wearily. The death of Crinshaw had shaken him more than anything had in a long time. Charles Crinshaw was not the most genial person in the world, but he had been a faithful servant, and Edward was aware that the man had left a gap that would be difficult to fill. As the two visitors entered, he moved around his desk and stepped forward. “Greetings, gentlemen,” he said. Turning to Fenton, he said, “I’m Edward Hayden.”

Fenton spoke quickly, nodding his head. “Good morning, Lord Darby. I’m Superintendent Fenton. This is my assistant, Inspector Matthew Grant.”

“Yes, we have met. Sorry to meet again under such terrible circumstances, Inspector. Would you gentlemen have a seat, please.” He indicated the two chairs on the other side of his desk, but Fenton shook his head with an abrupt motion.

“I think we can dispense with the pleasantries, Lord Darby. If you wouldn’t mind, I would like for you to tell me what has happened here.”

Edward gave the superintendent a sharp look, for the policeman’s manner was rougher than he expected. “I’ll be glad to do so. It’s my custom to have a drink prepared each night. I take it just before I go to sleep, for I sleep rather badly.”

“What sort of drink is it?” Fenton asked. His voice was sharp, as were his eyes, and there was little gentility in his actions or his countenance. “What is in the drink?”

“It’s a formula that I got from my father. It’s been in the family a long time. It’s merely a glass of wine with some added elements to promote sleep.”

“What elements?”

“I really can’t tell you offhand. It’s written down, of course. Charles Crinshaw has prepared it for so many years.”

“And you take this every night?”

“I suppose we’re all creatures of habit. Me no less than others. But, yes, every night.”

“At what time, Lord Darby?”

“I’m rather attached to keeping regular hours. The usual time was ten o’clock, although that could vary a little.”

Superintendent Fenton studied the man before him with an aggressiveness in his manner, which Matthew Grant had noticed before. He seemed to be putting people on trial and finding them guilty before he obtained any real facts. This had disturbed Grant from the very first, but there was nothing he could say or do about it.

“Please tell me what happened tonight, if you will, Lord Darby.”

“Yes, Superintendent. I was prepared for bed, but by ten fifteen I began to wonder why Crinshaw had not brought my drink. So I told my wife that I was going to see if he was occupied or if he had forgotten.”

“Was he a man to forget things?”

“Not at all, Superintendent! Crinshaw was a very regular man, indeed, in all his duties. That was why I was somewhat surprised.”

“So what did you do then, sir?”

“Well, I put on my robe, and I went downstairs, and Crinshaw was not in the kitchen. Everyone else had gone to bed, so I went on to the butler’s pantry, and I found him there on the floor.”

“Were you certain he was dead?”

Edward moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “I’ve had very little to do with this sort of thing. I bent down, and he was not breathing.”

“Did you check his pulse?”

“No, sir, I did not.”

“And what did you do then, Lord Darby?”

“I roused my coachman, sent him at once for Dr. Newton, and I sent another servant to notify the local police. Dr. Newton has already arrived.”

The questioning went on for some time with Fenton shooting questions very rapidly at Lord Darby. Finally he said, “We will need to see the body, sir.”

“Of course. Nothing has been touched. I left instructions for it to be so.”

“That was very wise, sir,” Fenton said.

Fenton moved forward as Edward Hayden motioned with his hand. “He’s in there, Superintendent.”

Fenton moved inside the pantry, followed closely by Grant. He stooped down beside the body without touching it and seemed to study the face of the dead man. “What do you make of it, Grant?” he asked abruptly.

Grant was on the other side of the body. “I don’t see any marks of violence.” He looked over and said, “It looks as though he had prepared the drink and that he dropped it.” Indeed, a large silver goblet was on the floor. “The drink is spilled, for the most part,” Grant said.

“Look at his face,” Fenton said. “He looks like a man in agony.”

“I think that would be consistent with a bad heart, wouldn’t it?” Sir Edward said. “I know little about such things, but I’ve heard it’s a very agonizing pain.”

Fenton did not answer. His eyes were running around the small room, and he saw the bottle of wine sitting on the table. He went over and asked, “Is this the wine that is used for your potion?”

“Yes, I believe it is,” Edward said, leaning forward to read the label. “Yes, amontillado. That’s it.”

Edward stood back while the two men went over everything in the room, Grant taking copious notes. After a time, Edward said, “Gentlemen, Dr. Newton is here. I’m sure you’d like to see him.”

“I certainly would.” Fenton rose, and Edward asked Rosie to bring Septimus to the kitchen. When they arrived, Fenton saw two people. He started to speak, but the woman said, “Why, Inspector Grant, it’s good to see you again.”

Grant moved forward and bowed. “Lady Trent and Dr. Newton, it’s good to see you.”

Fenton’s sharp eyes went from the doctor and the woman addressed as Lady Trent then back to his assistant. “You’re already acquainted, I see.”

“Oh, yes.” Serafina nodded. “Inspector Grant was a great help to us when my brother was in need of it.”

“Yes, I read the account of that. Your brother was most fortunate.”

“Yes, he was.”

“I’m Supt. Edsel Fenton.”

Grant said at once, “I’m sorry. This is Lady Serafina Trent and her father, Dr. Septimus Newton.”

“I understand you serve as a medical inspector, Doctor?” Fenton said.

“Yes, I have been active in several cases.”

“And you, Lady Trent, I read the account in the paper which made you out to be quite a detective.” A slight edge touched his voice, and his eyes narrowed. “I trust you’re not here to play detective tonight.”

“Not at all, Superintendent. I assist my father in his medical procedures.”

“Oh, I see.” Somehow Fenton seemed to want to make something of these words, but finally he shook his head and said, “Well, you’ll need to see the body. Come this way.” Fenton had taken over completely, and he led the group to the pantry. “In there, Dr. Newton,” he said.

Septimus stepped forward and looked again at the body. Serafina moved closer but merely stood there watching him as he worked. In a very brief time he stood to his feet and said, “It may have been a heart problem, Superintendent, but it’s impossible to tell until we’ve done an autopsy.”

“I see no point in an autopsy if the man died of a heart attack!” Fenton snapped.

“I cannot tell what caused his death. An autopsy is necessary if you want to be sure.”

“Certainly I want to be sure,” Fenton said somewhat hesitantly. “Well then, proceed.”

“I can’t do that here,” Septimus said. He spoke mildly and looked down at the body. “We’ll have to take the body back to my laboratory.”

“And how long will it take?”

“The autopsy itself? It will not take too long, I would think. Getting the body there will take a little longer.”

Serafina said, “The body hasn’t been moved, has it?”

“No,” Edward said. “I made sure that no one touched it.”

Fenton seemed to be irritated by her question. He turned to Grant and asked, “Why are you standing there, Grant? Get to work.”

Grant met Fenton’s eyes, and for a moment the two men seemed locked in some sort of struggle, but then Grant said placidly, “Yes, sir.”

“Get some servants to help move the body, and we’ll need a room to be used as an office to question everyone in the house.”

“My study, would that do?” Edward asked.

“Very well. Come along, Sir Edward. I’ll begin with you.”

The two men left, and Grant said, “Just let me take one more look, and I’ll help you move the body.”

“I’m sure there are servants to help with that,” Serafina said quietly.

Serafina and her father watched as Grant went over the room again. He went to the door where Mrs. Swifton was standing with her back against the wall.

“You’re aware that the victim took a drink to Lord Darby every night?”

“Oh, yes, sir, everyone knew that.”

“Do you have any idea what he put in it?”

“No, sir, he kept it quite a secret. He wasn’t a joking man, but he liked to say that one day he would bottle this potion and get rich by selling it.”

“When was the last time you saw Charles Crinshaw alive?”

“He was in the kitchen having a cup of tea. It was rather late, and I bid him good night and went to bed. That must have been about nine thirty.”

“Thank you,” Grant said. “Would you see if you could find some strong men to help to move the body?”

“Yes, sir.”

After Mrs. Swifton left, Grant went back and studied the cup. He picked it up and said, “There’s still a little in this cup.” He picked up the bottle of wine and said, “Would you have any way of testing the contents of this wine and what’s remaining in the cup?”

“Yes, of course,” Serafina said.

Grant studied the body silently, and then Samuel Franks, the footman, and Tim, the coachman, came in, and Septimus instructed them as they picked the body up and moved it out. “You’ll need to put the body in a wagon, if you have such a thing,” he said.

“Yes, sir, we do. I’ll see to it.”

Serafina moved closer to Grant. “The superintendent doesn’t seem very considerate of you.”

Grant turned to face her. His hazel eyes seemed to glow, and as always she was amazed by his hair. He was only thirty-one years old, and his hair was prematurely silver. “Superintendent Fenton is rather defensive.”

“But why is he so harsh with you?”

“I couldn’t say.”

Serafina thought quickly. “It’s probably because he knows that you were scheduled to be put into the position he now holds. Why weren’t you?” she asked.

“The way of the world. He had connections. I’ll appreciate it if you could send someone as soon as possible with the results of the autopsy and of the test on the wine.”

“Of course, Inspector. As quickly as we can.”