“Whoever killed your aunt, they seem to have targeted her specifically. No one else was harmed as a result of the break-in, correct?”
The matron nodded, her throat working against another sob.
“That tells me that the killer had a grievance with your aunt. Or perhaps needed to silence her for some reason.”
Leo’s theory—that Edward Seabright had not died of fever but had been taken—played well here. He’d dismissed it earlier, thinking it too far-fetched. However, the orphanage nurse had been killed just days after Martha Seabright. And he could not discount the fact that the letter Leo found in Martha’s handbag, the one indicating a sum of money had been enclosed and that she’d made the right choice, had been signed with the initialsNCR.
Nurse Charlotte Radcliff, possibly.
“I cannot fathom who would have had such a grievance against my aunt,” Matron Westover replied.
“How long had she worked at the orphanage?”
“Since its inception. This was her home.” Her voice broke on the last word. She turned her head, covering her lips and nose with a trembling hand. It was only when she fought tears that the fine lines around her eyes and on her forehead became visible. Jasper found himself wondering if she’d ever married, and if not, why. She was the sort of English rose men would have flocked to and women would have been envious of.
“Tell me about your groundskeeper,” he said after allowing her a moment to compose herself. He was again thinking of Gavin Seabright and the accusation that he’d killed the groundkeeper’s dog as a boy. Jasper also considered how the man would have needed to dig a grave for Edward Seabright.
“Virgil Clooney,” she answered. “And before you ask, no, he would not have heard anyone breaking into the cellar. The window in question is on the opposite side of the grounds from his cottage.”
He raised a brow, impressed by her perceptiveness. Or perhaps she had merely asked Clooney the same question earlier. “I’d like to speak to him nevertheless.”
“Tomorrow, Inspector. Virgil is quite old and has been abed well before now,” she replied.
As he and Lewis were staying the night in Twickenham, he wouldn’t complain. He would speak to the elderly groundskeeper in the morning.
“Did your aunt ever speak to you about her time here, when the orphanage first opened?” he asked.
Matron Westover’s eyes narrowed on him. “Why do you ask?”
“Have you heard about the events at the orphanage’s benefit dinner a few nights ago in London?”
Her trembling sorrow seemed to clear for a moment. “I don’t often have time to read the London papers, but Sergeant Tinsdale mentioned that there was a disturbance. It was a robbery, wasn’t it? And a woman came to some harm?” Matron Westover shifted in her seat, crossing her ankles. “What does that have to do with my aunt’s murder?”
“Are you familiar with a woman named Martha Seabright?” he asked the matron instead of answering.
The matron’s posture stiffened, though only for a heartbeat. “The name sounds familiar.”
“She was the wife of a police sergeant killed in the line of duty. Her three children were taken in here in 1871.”
“Was?” the matron echoed, having astutely latched on to his use of past tense when speaking of Martha.
“Mrs. Seabright was the woman shot and killed at the dinner,” he explained.
Matron Westover’s ankles slipped free, uncrossing. Her wariness subsided to shock. “She was shot? Gracious.” She blinked and looked at her nearly empty cordial glass. She drained it in a backward toss of her head.
“Are you aware that Mrs. Seabright’s youngest child, an infant boy, died here less than a month after arriving?” he asked.
The matron set down her glass, her hand trembling before the base met the table with a hardclink.
“No, I was not aware,” she replied after clearing her throat. “And I’m not sure what an infant’s death so long ago could possibly have to do with what happened to my aunttoday.”
“The two crimes could share a connection,” he allowed.
The matron let out a huff of air as if flabbergasted. “What sort of connection?”
As he wasn’t going to answer the matron’s question, he pivoted again. “I would like to see Martha Seabright’s file as well as any records the orphanage might have on her children, Paula, Gavin, and Edward.”
If he could, he wanted to try to match the handwriting on the note Leo had found in Martha’s handbag to any writing made by Nurse Radcliff in the files.
