“Every night,” Mary said.
“Including last night?” Solomon said, and the maid nodded. “How were they usually arranged?
“Well, she often liked to read for a little before she went to sleep. And then, in the morning, to pull herself easy into a comfortable sitting position for a cup of tea in bed. So she had two pillows propped up and crossed behind her like this…” Reaching over the body, Mary all but snatched up the spare pillows to demonstrate how they were stood up on their ends and crossed. “Then she slept flat with her head on one pillow.”
“When you found her this morning,” Constance said, “were her pillows arranged in the usual way? Or as they are now?”
“As they are now,” the maid replied promptly. “She was lying like that, too, with the bed barely disturbed.”
Which was surely interesting…
“Her preferred arrangement only uses up three pillows,” Solomon pointed out. “What did she do with the fourth?”
Mary blushed. “That was in case the master visited,” she said primly.
“Did he visit her last night?” Constance asked.
Mary’s nostrils flared with distaste. “I could not say, ma’am.” Then, almost immediately correcting herself, she said, “No, he didn’t, for her door were locked this morning when I brought her tea.”
Solomon’s breath caught. His gaze found Constance’s. “Then how didyouget into the room?”
Mary produced a key from her apron pocket.
“Was it usual for her to lock her door?” Kellar asked.
“Notunusual,” the maid replied. “Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t. Either way, I had my key to make her mornings comfortable.”
Solomon decided to leave the matter there for now. But if the door had been locked, then it was a lot less likely that someone else hadharmed Caterina, whatever the arrangement of the pillows.
“You are very observant,” he said. “Besides the arrangement of the pillows, did you notice anything else unusual about the room when you first came in this morning?”
“Not apart from the roses.”
Everyone looked at the roses.
“What’s odd about them?” Constance asked.
“Nothing,” the maid replied, “except they weren’t there last night when I left her.”
*
“Well?” Kellar demanded,as soon as his carriage, bearing the three of them, began to move away from Montague’s house. “Am I right to have doubts about Caterina’s death?”
Opposite Solomon, who sat on the back-facing bench, Constance shifted with the tiny wriggle she gave when she was uncomfortable.
Solomon said carefully, “There are one or two things that don’t make sense without further explanation. But there is no sign of physical attack, and even an overdose of digitalis is unlikely. The maid is clearly keeping close track of every dose, and she was happy enough to show the powders to us. She has marked a date on each. And by everyone’s account—including yours—Mrs. Montague was not suicidally inclined.”
“The doctor could have given her an extra dose,” Kellar said mulishly.
“Why would he do that?” Solomon asked.
“You said you would speak to him,” Kellar countered.
Constance turned her head to look at him. Then she met Solomon’s gaze.
Solomon sighed. “Are you asking us to take this matter on as a formal investigation?”
“Yes,” Kellar said.
