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Watkins looked past us to the major’s office door. His frown indicated he didn’t believe us, but he must have decided it was in his best interests to answer. Perhaps he wanted the murder solved quickly, too. “I was helping the steward tidy up in the dining room. We’re short-staffed and he needed the extra hand. You can ask him if you don’t believe me.”
“So this desk wasn’t manned?” I asked.
“No.” His gaze wandered to the major’s office door again.
I made a show of following his gaze. Then I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Why was he in his office at that time yesterday? If you’re short-staffed, shouldn’t he be overseeing things out here? Wouldn’t he see off special guests?”
“The major used to have a drink with them in the lounge, through there.” He indicated a room near the back of the reception area where I could see a fireplace and comfortable sofas through the open door. “But he doesn’t socialize much since returning to work last week. He had some time off after a death in the family. He works in his office most of the time and goes home late.”
“Who passed away?” I asked.
“His daughter.”
“Oh, that’s so tragic. The poor man.”
He nodded sadly. “She was only seventeen.”
Bereavement certainly explained why he’d become a recluse and workaholic. It did not explain why he’d removed a ribbon from a dead man’s body.
Chapter4
“Did Floyd tell you Broadman was also a philanderer?” Harry asked me as we traveled in the hansom cab back to London. “He and Rigg-Lyon were alike in a lot of ways.”
“You won’t put that in your report to Mrs. Hessing, will you?”
“Mrs. Hessing hired me to report onallof Liddicoat’s connections, particularly family, but that’s a step too far, in my view. It’s not fair to paint him with the same brush as Broadman simply because they’re cousins. Besides, Broadman isn’t married, and many young gentlemen keep mistresses at his age. He isn’t doing anything wrong.”
“That’s a relief.”
“You like Liddicoat?”
“I hardly know him, but Miss Hessing is fond of him. The gentlemen at parties can be cruel to her, and her mother is just as bad sometimes, so it would be wonderful to see her find happiness.”
“Wanting her to be happy is not a good enough reason to like him or trust him. Her mother is right to be cautious and make sure he’s not after Miss Hessing for her inheritance. I had to be thorough.”
From his distant stare, I could tell something was troubling him. “But?”
“No buts. Not about Liddicoat. I remember how Mrs. Hessing treated her daughter last year, and it sounds like their relationship hasn’t improved. I want Miss Hessing to be happy, too, so she can escape her mother. I really hope I’m right and Liddicoat’s not a fortune hunter.”
If he was wrong, Miss Hessing would be devastated.
We’d decided to speak to the widow next. Detective Forrester had given Harry her address when they spoke on the telephone earlier. The Rigg-Lyons lived in a handsome townhouse in Marylebone, a rather large residence for a couple without children. I suspected they didn’t have children as the only photographs in the drawing room were of the Rigg-Lyons on their wedding day and two other adult couples who I assumed were their parents.
Mrs. Rigg-Lyon didn’t want to speak with us at first, but Harry convinced her to spare a few minutes. It wasn’t his usual charm that convinced her, however. It was his suggestion that it wouldn’t look good if she refused. The implication being she would appear guilty.
Most people wouldn’t consider the frail, pale woman perched on the sofa a murderess, but Harry and I knew that appearances could be deceiving. The blow that killed Vernon Rigg-Lyon had been hard enough to draw blood, but the mallet wasn’t heavy, and this woman could have wielded it as well as anyone.
She may have looked frail, but there was a strength about her. She showed no signs of grief, and her gaze was direct as she informed us that she had much on her plate. “I must meet with the funeral director, so your brevity is appreciated.” She spoke with a light French accent. If I had to guess, I’d say she’d lived in England a number of years but hadn’t been raised here.
“You left the Elms Polo Club immediately after the match,” Harry began. “Why didn’t you wait for your husband?”
“He liked to stay awhile after a match, particularly if his team won. I prefer not to linger.”
“Why particularly after a win?”
“Vanity. He enjoys—enjoyed—the attention. Winners are lauded, Mr. Armitage. Losers are not.” When she corrected her tense from present to past, her fingers curled into a fist on her lap. “The team often had a celebratory drink afterwards. Wives weren’t welcome.”
It was the perfect opening to ask one of the questions we needed to, yet Harry hesitated. The subtle slide of his gaze in my direction left me in no doubt it was something he thought would be better coming from a woman.
