Page 23 of Solving Sophronia

Detective Graham stood and inclined his head. “Thank you, Miss Grey.”

Charlotte started toward the door. “Always a pleasure, Lady Sophronia.” She spoke the words over her shoulder.

Detective Graham sat in Charlotte’s vacated seat.

“My lady, do you know the location of the Hamptons’ ball?”

“Grosvenor Square, just a few streets away.” Sophie was glad he continued on with the investigation without commenting on Charlotte Grey’s dismissive attitude. “And I could ask my family if the Greys attended. They were all there.”

“While you were in the rookery investigating a murder.” The detective smirked, but he didn’t appear to be mocking her. His behavior felt more like a friendly tease.

Sergeant Lester sat on a sofa on the other side of the detective. “Imagine I’d rather be studying a corpse than mingling in that company too.” He rolled his eyes toward the doorway.

“Not everyone’s so...” Sophie grimaced. “She’s definitely one of the worst.”

“Well, that’s a relief, ain’t it?” The sergeant winked.

Sergeant Lester’s simple action gave Sophie a warm swell of gratitude.

“My lady, how long did it take you to get to Spitalfields from Mayfair two nights ago?” Detective Graham asked, recapturing her attention.

“Well, I didn’t go directly there,” Sophie said. “I drove around for quite some time before arriving at the Porky Pie.” She thought for a moment. “I’d estimate a straight trip would take forty-five minutes, maybe more. The roads were very crowded.”

“Don’t suppose the Greys could have left Mayfair, traveled to Wentworth Street, dumped the body, and returned in less than an hour and a half at minimum,” Sergeant Lester said.

“Surely not,” Sophie agreed.

Detective Graham frowned as he considered. “Even with lighter traffic, the absence would have been noticed.” He tapped his pencil on his lips. “So what transpired between when Miss Duffin arranged Miss Grey’s hair at five o’clock and when her body was discovered just after eight?”

“What indeed?” Sergeant Lester said.

Detective Graham looked down at Sophie’s notebook, appearing as if he’d comment on her timeline, but stopped and stood when Mrs. Trenton entered the room. “If you please, madam, gather the staff.”

The housekeeper looked irritated at being ordered around by someone who was not her employer, but she left to do as he asked.

“Sergeant, interview every member of this household. Discover their whereabouts Monday night, and verify alibis.”

“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Lester said.

Detective Graham leaned closer to the sergeant, lowering his voice. “Pay attention to inconsistencies.”

After a few minutes, members of the staff began filling the room.

“I should like to see Miss Duffin’s quarters now,” the detective said when Mrs. Trenton returned.

She nodded. “Come along, then.”

“My lady.” Detective Graham stood aside, motioning for Sophie to precede him.

As the housekeeper led them from the common areas of the house, Sophie’s confidence shrank, and her discomfort increased with every step. She walked as softly as possible on the carpet of the corridor leading through the family’s private rooms and winced at the sound of Detective Graham’s steady footsteps behind her as they ascended to the upper stories. He apparently didn’t share her unease at intruding on the Greys’ personal space.

They continued up a narrow staircase to the attic and started down the passageway. The top floor of the house was very warm, nearly stifling, and Sophie imagined it was uncomfortable at night. Unlit candle sconces were set at intervals along the walls. The upper story must not be equipped with gas lighting, and she wondered if her own household’s servants’ quarters were similar.

“Here we are.” Mrs. Trenton opened a door to reveal a small chamber. “Jane’s bed is on the left side.”

Inside the room were two wooden frame beds separated by a narrow bureau beneath a window. A wardrobe and washstand stood on the wall beside the door.So few possessions.A surge of emotion welled up in Sophie’s throat. Seeing the space where Jane Duffin had lived made the tragedy of her death feel very real. She swallowed, forcing back the tears threatening to spill over. The surprise emotions frustrated her. Weeping on an investigation was hardly befitting of an investigative reporter.

Detective Graham strode through the door, not seeming shaken at all. “Who shared this room with the deceased?”

---