Page 24 of The Murder of Thomas Cardwell
“What did you want to speak with Thomas about?” Penelope asked.
A slight flush brought color to Bobby’s cheeks. He hesitated, but then replied, “I’ve been…at loose ends. Casting around, trying to figure out what to do with my life. How to manage so I could stop worrying about having enough money in mypocket when I go out with friends. That was why I’ve been at loggerheads with Thomas. He managed the purse strings, and although I know he was fair in doling out our allowances, it never seemed enough.” Absentmindedly, Bobby tugged at his coat cuff. “Then I heard Ruthie and Thomas talking. This was the day before it happened, in the afternoon. They were in Thomas’s room, discussing the business. They didn’t know I was on the landing outside, listening.”
When Bobby fell silent, his fixed gaze suggesting he was replaying his memories and hearing his brother’s voice again, Barnaby gently prompted, “What did you hear?”
Bobby blinked and focused on Barnaby, then replied, “They were debating what to do about several new potential clients. Thomas—well, the business, because Ruthie was half of it—was doing well. All the clients were happy, and several had recommended Cardwell’s to acquaintances, and now those acquaintances were wanting Thomas—well, him and Ruthie, although they didn’t know about Ruthie’s involvement—to take on their accounts. Thomas and Ruthie were already working long hours as it was. They were discussing taking on a clerk to train up and spread the load.”
Raising his head, Bobby looked at Stokes and Jordan. “As it happens, I’m quite good with figures. Like Ruthie is. And Gibson as well. It was a joke between us—within the family—that the one who wasn’t good with numbers, Thomas, was the one who set up a business that was almost entirely to do with arithmetic.”
Bobby sighed. “After hearing that Thomas and Ruthie wanted to find a clerk to help, I tossed and turned all night. Finally, after I came down for breakfast and saw Ruthie working through the ledgers, the ones she brought to the office later, I decided I would do it—that I would ask them to make me their clerk. I wasn’t sure if Ruthie would take me seriously, so I decided to go and ask Thomas if he would take me on.” Bobby’sexpression dissolved into one of deep sorrow. “Only when I reached the office, I found him…gone.”
Penelope doubted that anyone on her side of the table thought Bobby was their killer, but there was more he could tell them. She let a moment slide past, then said, “We need to know a little more about your family so that we can understand.” Deliberately not specifying the required understanding, she continued, “For instance, which of you is the eldest?”
Bobby appeared to gather his resources. “Ruthie. She’s the eldest. Then comes Gibson, then Thomas, then me.”
“I see. And where did you boys go to school?” It was obvious they’d all been reasonably well-educated.
“The three of us attended King Edward’s Grammar in Chelmsford,” Bobby replied.
Penelope knew of the school and its excellent reputation. It was also quite expensive and difficult to get accepted into.
As if grasping the direction of her thoughts, Bobby added, “M’father went there, too. Him and his brothers.”
That suggested the family was rather higher in the social order than Penelope had thought. She racked her brain for the Cardwell family’s connections, then she had it. “You’re related to Viscount Mollison.”
Bobby nodded. “He’s m’father’s second cousin.” He faintly grimaced. “We weren’t exactly told, but we saw enough of Papa to know that he was considered the family’s black sheep. He… Well, they called him a profligate, a prodigal spendthrift, and more, and he always spent recklessly—even I remember that. If it hadn’t been for Mama squirreling away funds and refusing to let him touch them, I daresay we would have been destitute when he died. As it was, things were difficult for a while, but Thomas held us together, and Ruthie figured out how to make the business work, and…well, up until now, things have rolled along well enough.”
Noting that Bobby’s answers were coming more easily to the simpler questions she posed, Penelope continued, “We know Gibson and Thomas also fought over money. How long ago did Gibson move out of the family home?”
Bobby screwed up his face, then ventured, “About five—no, six years ago. He left to live with his friends when he turned twenty-five. That was a few years after the pater died.”
“And the issue between Gibson and Thomas—was that all about money, too?” Stokes asked.
Bobby grimaced, thought, then said, “Yes in the sense that money was what they mostly fought over—nothing much else. But it seemed to me that Gibs was more angry—resentful—of Thomas becoming the man of the house, so to speak. Gibs left, but even before he did, Thomas was the one we all turned to, even Gibs himself.”
“So,” Penelope said, “their bickering, if you will, was more about Gibson resenting Thomas taking the familial role that Gibson felt should have naturally fallen to him?”
Bobby’s face cleared. “Yes. That’s it in a nutshell.” Then his face fell. “But don’t go thinking that because of that—his resentment of Thomas—Gibs killed Thomas. No matter what either of them felt or said, Gibson and Thomas were close. They are—were—closer in age to each other than either is to Ruthie or me.”
Jordan shifted on the chair and, when Bobby glanced his way, asked, “Would it be fair to say that Gibson takes after your father, while Thomas took after your mother?”
Bobby thought for only a second before nodding. “That’s a reasonable assessment. Thomas was careful and cautious and serious, always. Gibs can be serious about something, but he’s rarely careful or cautious.” Bobby paused, then added, “Truth be told, I always felt that having seen what Papa was like and whatanxiety that brought to Mama and Ruthie, Thomas had, from early on, decided to be the exact opposite of our father.”
They all took a moment to digest that insight.
Eventually, Jordan continued, “You mentioned that Thomas distributed the family’s allowances. How were they calculated? As a set percentage for each or…?”
Bobby was already nodding. “A defined percentage of the fund’s income for the month.” He paused, then added, “As the oldest male and heir, Gibs gets a bit more than Thomas, me, and Mama, and Ruthie gets a bit less.”
“That’s a common arrangement,” Jordan stated. “When was the last payment?”
“A week ago.”
“So at the moment, you’re all in funds, including Gibs?” Jordan asked.
Bobby nodded. “I expect so. Not even Gibs goes through his allowance that quickly.”
“Had Gibson been to the house in the past week?” Stokes asked.
