Page 25 of The Curse of Ill-Gotten Gains
“Sadly true.” Stokes had written their proposed questions in his notebook. “Right. These are the questions we’ll put to each interviewee.” He held up the book and read, “One, when did they arrive at the house party and why are they here? Two, when did they come downstairs on Monday morning and where did they go? Three, where were they between nine and ten o’clock? Four, do they know if anyone else left the house during that period? Five, what was their view of Underhill? And sixth and last, do they know of any reason why anyone would want to kill him?”
Penelope observed, “That should give us enough to start with, and when we speak with those who were Monty’s victims, we can probe further and see what they say.”
Barnaby stated, “We should hold the information in Monty’s black book close to our collective chest until and unless we feel we can learn more by revealing what we know.”
“Indeed. The murderer is the one we want to leave guessing,” Penelope said.
“So,” Stokes asked, “in what order should we have people in?”
“Hmm.” Penelope frowned. “I suspect the company—both the innocent and the guilty—will be agog to see how we proceed. If we don’t want them trying to read anything into our order of interviews, let’s use an order that’s based on some obvious criteria.” She looked at Stokes. “Like social rank.”
“That makes sense,” Stokes allowed. “It’s also what some might expect.”
“Right, then.” Penelope waggled her fingers at him. “Give me your pencil and let’s see what that translates to.”
“Leith first?” Barnaby suggested.
Penelope frowned. “He’s an earl, but as Susan is the daughter of a marquess, some would argue that she ranks higher.” Penelope paused, then added, “And, of course, as the elder of the pair, Pamela ranks higher still.” She looked at Stokes. “It might be useful to have Pamela in first. We can cast it as outlining for her what questions we intend to put to her guests—and that will, indeed, reassure her—while at the same time getting what insights we can from her.”
His fingers steepled before his face, Stokes nodded. “Good idea.”
“And then”—Penelope consulted her list—“we could alternate between male and female as we go down the ranks. Given the company is evenly split between the genders, that, too, might prove useful.”
“Meaning the ladies will have more to offer from observing the gentlemen?” Barnaby suggested.
Penelope nodded. “Just so.”
With her sister in tow, Rosalind walked out onto the rear terrace. As she’d hoped, at that moment, there was no one else inhabiting the long expanse of flagstones. She led Regina, subdued and rather wilting, to the balustrade beyond the steps leading down to the lawn.
Rosalind folded her arms and leaned on the stone coping. She glanced at Regina as her sister came to stand, much less relaxed, beside her.
Regina’s gaze was fixed on the trees at the far edge of the lawn. “Are you sure telling Percival is a good idea?”
“Perfectly sure.” Rosalind infused the words with as much crisp certainty as she could muster. It had taken some time toget the full truth of what Regina had done the previous morning from her. Following Regina’s gaze to the trees, Rosalind stated, “Percival said he was going for a ramble and would be back in good time for lunch.” Straightening, she turned to the wrought-iron tables and chairs set out farther along the terrace. “If we wait here, we should be able to intercept him when he returns to the house.”
Somewhat warily, Regina trailed Rosalind to the nearest table, drew out a chair, and sat on its edge. For a few moments, the sisters looked out over the lawns, then Regina asked, “Are you sure he’ll help and not just be shocked?”
“He knows the investigators. I’m certain he’ll agree to help.” Rosalind was a trifle surprised by how firmly she believed that. She hadn’t known Richard for long, but thirty-six hours of acquaintance had, apparently, been sufficient to convince her that his reputation as a hedonistic libertine—while possibly valid in earlier years—no longer applied. He was a man who was focused and deliberate, and she sensed that doing the right thing was important to him.
She couldn’t explain why she was so sure of the last, yet she absolutely was.
That said, she hadn’t answered the second part of Regina’s question. She felt certain Richard would be as shocked as she had been on learning what had been going on. Given she and Regina were sharing a room, Regina hadn’t been able to avoid Rosalind’s nighttime inquisition. When confronted with the evidence of the blood on her gown’s hem, Regina’s brittle defenses had crumbled, and the entire story had tumbled out, after which Regina had begged Rosalind to help her.
Rosalind knew her sister. She unequivocally believed all that Regina had told her. Regina wasn’t devious enough to have invented such a tale. Moreover, every action Regina had taken was precisely how Rosalind would have predicted her youngand impressionable sister would behave when faced with such circumstances.
Yet Rosalind could see how the facts might appear to others, especially the investigators. Indeed, she couldn’t fault Regina for attempting to hide her involvement nor for her reluctance to make that involvement known to the authorities.
Like Regina, Rosalind had been shocked to learn of what now appeared to be Monty Underhill’s little sideline. She’d always viewed him as a genial, pleasant, and trustworthy gentleman. Of course, there could be some other, perfectly innocent explanation for why he’d been in the orchard, apparently looking into the hollow in the tree shortly after Regina had been due to leave her pearls there.
Having heard Regina’s story first to last, Rosalind didn’t think that likely.
She glanced at the door leading onto the terrace. Before they’d come outside, she’d checked that all the matrons and older ladies, their mother included, were safely ensconced in the morning room. They’d all been there, gathered around Lady Pamela, who had come downstairs after breakfast.
Most of the younger ladies and gentlemen were strolling in the rose garden or shrubbery or playing a round of croquet. Rosalind could hear theclinkof balls from the distant green. No doubt, her mother thought she and Regina were with one of those groups, doing what they were at Patchcote Grange to do, namely make connections with suitable gentlemen.
Being a touch older than the other unmarried ladies and having a particular gentleman she was supposed to be getting to know had subtly set Rosalind apart from her less directed juniors.
I suppose asking Percival for help in this matter qualifies. How he reacts will be revealing and will say quite a bit about his character.
