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Harry conceded my point. “If we agree that she’s telling the truth, it would seem McDonald was trying to find out from her whether the paintings were indeed fakes, which means he didn’t paint them himself or know who did.”
“And when Lady Bunbury saw them together, she panicked. Knowing what a gossip he is, she separated them as soon as possible.”
“But if she was too late, she might have killed McDonald to stop him spreading the gossip that night.”
It was an excellent theory. In our last investigation, I’d not been convinced that Lady Bunbury was a murderer, and it turned out that she wasn’t guilty. This time, however, I’d learned that she and Lord Bunbury were in more financial difficulty than we realized. They’d sold all their valuable paintings and jewels, and gone to great lengths to hide that fact by having copies made.
How much further were they prepared to go?
A different womanwas on duty in the Searcys office this morning. She reminded me of a school mistress with her clipped tone and haughty briskness that invited no idle conversation. I knew one thing for certain within moments of meeting her. She would not succumb to Harry’s charms.
We introduced ourselves and gave her the usual spiel that we were helping the police tie up loose ends. She didn’t take our word for it, however, so Harry told her to telephone his father at Scotland Yard.
After a brief call, she hung up and clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. “How may I help you?”
“May we see a list of all the staff who worked the night of the Bunburys’ ball?”
She opened the drawer of the filing cabinet behind her. She found the relevant file and handed us a list. On it were the names and addresses of all the temporary staff that had worked that night. There were twelve.
“Have Searcys employed these people before?” Harry asked.
“Most have done several events for us, but four are new.” She asked for the list back then marked four names. “These ones started in the last month.”
“Did any of them also work at Lord and Lady Quorne’s dinner on March thirtieth?”
She looked through her filing cabinet and pulled out another file. She compared the lists side by side then shook her head. “No. Lady Quorne only hired three staff from us. None worked at the Bunburys’ ball.”
Harry indicated the list of twelve. “May we borrow this?”
“No, you may not.” She pushed a notepad, pen and ink pot towards him. “Copy it down.”
As Harry wrote, I thought of one other thing to ask. “There was a maid who worked the night of the Bunburys’ ball. Taller than me, reddish brown hair, walks with a limp.” I indicated the list. “Can you tell me which one she is, please?”
“Was something wrong with her work? Was she idle?”
“No.”
She looked as though she wanted to interrogate me further, but thought better of it. She pointed to one of the names with an asterisk beside it.
“Jane Eyre? Is this serious?”
“Do I look like the type of person who makes silly jokes?”
I swallowed my retort and shook my head.
“That is the name the girl gave me. Perhaps her mother was a flibbertigibbet who liked to read novels.”
I opened my mouth to retort that reading novels didn’t mean a woman was silly, but I caught sight of Harry out of the corner of his eye, warring with a smile. That was precisely what he expected me to do. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being proved correct.
We took our copied list and headed down the stairs.
“That brought back memories of the school where my mother worked,” he said as he pushed open the door that led outside. “The headmistress was a dragon. I was terrified of her. She’s the reason I stayed in most afternoons after school and read books.”
It was good to hear Harry make light of his past. Usually he either didn’t want to talk about it or he grew melancholy when he remembered his birth mother. She’d raised him on her own while working in a school for girls, where they’d also both lived. She’d died when he was eleven, leaving him truly alone.
I indicated the teashop with its frilly white tablecloths and yellow roses in vases on each table. “Shall we discuss our next moves over tea and cake?”
“No.”
