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“I tried to piece together his last day,” Runcorn went on. “Whoever killed him planned it very carefully, very believably.”
One by one around the table they nodded agreement. No one mentioned Dinah, but the very absence of her name hung between them.
“Who did he see that day?” Monk asked. He knew before Runcorn spoke that the answer would not be so easy. It was written in the confusion in Runcorn’s eyes.
“Dr. Winfarthing,” Runcorn replied, “in the morning. Just tradesmen in Deptford in the afternoon. He came home for an early dinner, then worked in his study before going for a short walk with Mrs. Lambourn in the evening. They both went to bed at about ten. No one saw him alive again. He was found the next morning by the man walking his dog up on One Tree Hill.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Hester said unhappily. “There’s nothing in a day like that to make him kill himself that night. It wasn’t even the day he heard about the report being rejected, was it?” She looked from Monk to Runcorn, and then back again.
“No,” Runcorn replied. “They told him three days earlier. The idea was that it took him that long to steel himself to do it. Or perhaps he thought they would change their minds, or he’d find some other facts. Winfarthing said he was still determined to fight when he saw him that morning.”
“We’re back to Dinah Lambourn,” Orme pointed out.
“No one contacted him?” Monk asked Runcorn. “No one called, left a message, a letter? Could there have been something in the post?”
“I asked the butler that,” Runcorn replied. “He said Dr. Lambourn looked at the post when he c
ame home at about five o’clock. There was nothing but the ordinary tradesmen’s bills. No personal letters.”
“He went to bed?” Hester asked, puzzled. “Are you sure? Could he have gone out again when Dinah went upstairs?” Her voice dropped a little.
“The butler said they both went up. He spoke to Lambourn and Lambourn answered him. But he could have read awhile, I suppose, and come down again,” Runcorn replied.
Taylor looked embarrassed. “Unless he really did take his own life?” He bit his lip. “Are we certain she isn’t innocent of killing him, but lying to restore some dignity to his name? Nobody wants to admit, even to themselves, that somebody they love did that. She’d want her daughters to think it was murder, wouldn’t she? Women’ll do most things to protect their children.”
Hester looked at Taylor, then at Monk. Monk could see in her face that she believed it possible.
Runcorn was stubborn. “Either someone came to see him, or he went out to see someone,” he said flatly.
“On One Tree Hill?” Monk asked. “It’s close to a mile from Lower Park Street, and uphill. Who would he meet in the middle of the night?”
“Someone he trusted,” Runcorn replied. “Someone he didn’t want to be seen with, or who didn’t want to be seen with him.”
“And he didn’t expect to go far,” Hester added. “You said he didn’t take a jacket, and it was October.”
“Someone he trusted,” Monk said gently. “Perhaps someone who could get close enough to him to put a needle in his vein and do whatever you have to do to get the opium in.”
“That’s like poor Mrs. Gadney,” Orme said. “She was killed by someone she trusted, or she wouldn’t have been standing out on the pier with them, alone in the dark.”
“Certainly not a prospective client,” Monk said with conviction. “Not out in the open like that.”
“No,” Orme cut in. “I asked more carefully this time. No one ever actually saw her with a man apart from Lambourn at any time. They assumed. The newspapers said she turned to prostitution, but there’s no proof.” He leaned forward across the table, his voice assured. “What if she was there with someone she knew, someone she didn’t fear at all-just like Lambourn?”
“The same person?” Monk said what he knew they were all thinking. “Who would Zenia know that Lambourn also knew?”
“Someone respectable,” Runcorn said slowly. “Someone Lambourn trusted, and someone she would never suspect of hurting her. Maybe …” He thought for a moment. “Maybe someone who said they were Lambourn’s solicitor, or a friend.”
“A doctor,” Hester said very slowly. “Or a member of the family.”
“Or his wife,” Orme said sadly.
No one argued.
“Now we’ve got until the day after Boxing Day to prove it,” Runcorn said, looking from one to the other of them. “If Sir Oliver can make the trial last that long.”
CHAPTER 20
Rathbone lay awake a good deal of that night, his mind in turmoil. Monk had sent him regular notes to keep him aware of what he had discovered. But as yet there was no proof that could be presented in court.
