English Trifle (25 page)

“Mrs. Hoffmiller. Miss Hoffmiller,” Inspector Kent said, inclining his head first to Sadie, then to Breanna. “I’ve come to take my leave, but wanted to be sure you had my card.”

Sadie swallowed quickly. “Your leave?” she repeated.

“You’ll be pleased to know that we did find trace amounts of blood on the wall of the sitting room and that we’ve completed the investigation of both crime scenes—the sitting room and the pantry. We’ve left the police lines up in order to keep them intact should we need to return.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sadie said. “A man was murdered and the body was found in the pantry . . . and you’re leaving?”

“We’ve concluded our investigation of the crime scenes and finished collecting our interviews at this time, madam,” Inspector Kent said, not seeming the least bit offended by her surprise. “And we’ve become aware of some rather scandalous dealings in Mr. Tatum’s life that are likely the reason he met such an end.”

“Mr. Tatum?” Breanna asked.

“Yes, Leon Tatum to be exact—he was working under the assumed name of John Henry Barro. It seems that he was not a nurse at all and, in fact, had some financial trouble in excess of one hundred thousand pounds that it seems he was trying to run away from.”

Sadie blinked. “What?” She reflected on Austin’s comments that morning about how hiring a caretaker for an earl was not a trite consideration. And John Henry wasn’t a nurse at all—he wasn’t even John Henry. “How did you discover this so quickly?”

“Much of it was put together by Inspector Dilree,” Kent said, “based on the statements he took yesterday. He really is a most efficient recorder. We were planning to come back and follow up on the things he’d discovered, but finding Mr. Tatum’s body sped things up exponentially and we have no desire to offset anyone’s holiday plans.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Breanna asked. “What if John Henry’s death had nothing to do with his past and everything to do with what’s been happening here at the estate?”

Kent turned his eyes toward Breanna. “And what, pray tell, has been happening at the estate?”

Breanna closed her mouth, but Sadie was quick to pick up that line of thought. “Someone moved the body,” she said. “Even if some thug killed him, whoever moved the body knew this house well enough to know where to put him—and why do that?”

“As I said, we will continue our investigation, but it is not in anyone’s best interest for us to throw off the rhythm of any household—especially that of an earl who is doing poorly.”

“Austin told you to leave, didn’t he?” Sadie said. “He’s the one who doesn’t want you here.”

The inspector paused before continuing. “He is simply concerned about the effect of our ongoing presence in the house, what with the earl and so on,” he said carefully. “But if you’re concerned about staying on here, you’re welcome to go to London, though we would prefer you don’t leave the country for at least another twenty-four hours.”

Sadie was stunned, and judging from the look on Breanna’s face, she was too.

“Very good, then,” the inspector said. “I have your contact information and will let you know if I need anything else.”

He exited the room with both Breanna and Sadie looking after him, then they looked at each other. “I need to talk to Liam,” Breanna said, pushing back from the table. “He’s with his father.”

Sadie nodded. She moved to pick up the dirty dishes they were leaving on the table, then remembered that she’d been ordered out of the kitchen. She only wished it was Austin who had to clean up after her. They left the dining room in time to see Austin talking with the inspectors in the foyer, nodding and smiling politely. Grant stood apart from them, but at attention—awaiting his orders, as usual. Sadie knew she was scowling as they passed Austin on the way to the staircase, but she didn’t care. If anyone deserved her dirty looks, it was Austin. She had no doubt he was carefully orchestrating every detail of what was taking place.

As she passed, she overheard some of what he was saying,
“ . . . on behalf of the earl I wish to sincerely thank you for allowing us to . . .”

Oh, she simply couldn’t stand that man.

~ ~ ~

At the top of the stairs, Breanna turned to her mother. “Um, do you mind if I talk to Liam alone?”

Sadie did in fact mind—not about Breanna talking to him alone so much as the fact that Breanna obviously didn’t want Sadie there. It was kinda the same thing, but not really. And yet Sadie still had the keys in her pocket and wasn’t sure she wanted Breanna to know about them. “Of course,” Sadie said. “I need to change anyway, I smell like . . . the vegetable pantry.” She grimaced at the reminder.

“Okay,” Breanna said. “You know where to find me.”

Sadie nodded as Breanna headed toward the earl’s room, then hurried toward her own room, putting her hand in her pocket to ensure the keys were still there and not simply a figment of her imagination. The feel of the cool metal in her hand ignited her excitement and she reached her room within a few seconds of parting ways with Breanna. Once inside her room she hurried to close the door before pulling the keys out of her pocket and looking them over.

There were seven different keys of various sizes on a thick metal ring. She turned them over in her hand and inspected each key carefully. There was little hint as to what door they fit simply by their size and shape, and Sadie hurried to her purse to pull out her reading glasses. She didn’t wear them very often because they seemed so old-ladyish, but she was alone and needed the help so she gave in. Six of the keys simply had the name of the company that had made them, but the last key had the words “Room Master” engraved on it. Did that mean it opened all the rooms in the whole house?

Sadie hadn’t run into any locked rooms yet, but she’d kept her investigation to the library and kitchen. Certainly whoever had put the keys in her jacket had something they wanted her to accomplish. Did they also know the inspectors were going to be sent packing, leaving no one to figure out what was really going on? Because, despite John Henry’s sordid past—or, well, Leon Tatum’s—there was more at play than his past catching up with him—she was sure of it. She wondered again who would have slipped her these keys—if not for Mrs. Land being in London she’d assume it had been her. Then again, maybe Mrs. Land had put them there before she left. She had told Sadie to get her jacket. Sadie assumed that Mrs. Land and Grant would be the two people with keys like this—to everything. And certainly Grant wouldn’t be the one to give them to her.

The next question was what should she do now?

Her first thought was to get into Austin’s room, and it both excited and terrified her. He knew she was on to him, which meant he would be keeping a sharp eye on the things she was doing. Not to mention the close attention Grant would be paying to her as well.

Then she remembered when Austin had showed up in the kitchen. He hadn’t used the main stairs and had come in through the staff dining room. That meant there had to be at least one more way to get between floors. She thought of the hallway she’d passed each time she’d gone through the swinging doors of the kitchen. Did the stairs Austin used connect to that hallway?

It made sense that the staff would need more than one way to get around—and if there was an extra set of stairs in the east wing, might there also be an extra set in the west wing, where her room was located? If she could find them, she could go through the basement hallway and then back up the east wing stairs, which would put her close to Austin’s room without having to cross any common areas of the house—she was getting a bit tired of hiding behind Christmas trees anyway.

Seeing as how it was ten o’clock in the morning and the staff was likely in the heat of their bed making, floor sweeping, and towel washing—it was the perfect time to do a little digging before Austin managed to have them shipped out of Southgate altogether.

~ ~ ~

Sadie opened the door to the hallway slowly—grateful for well-greased hinges that allowed the heavy oak door to open nice and smooth. She couldn’t see either end of the hallway due to the curve in the overall design, but the portion she could see was clear. She stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her before heading left—away from the main staircase—counting six doorways before the hallway ended in a rounded sitting area. There wasn’t an open stairway in sight, but as she headed back the other way, she tried each doorknob she came to.

Though eager to use the keys she’d been given, she assumed that a door leading to the stairs wouldn’t be locked—and though the locked doors called to her, tempting her to take a peek—she was a woman of strength and was able to resist the seductive call of her own curiosity. The knob of the last door in the hallway turned easily in her hand and she smiled to herself as she looked down the darkened staircase. There was a light switch on the wall, but even though it was disconcerting to be alone in the dark, she didn’t want to turn on the light for fear that someone would see it at the bottom of the staircase. She let the door close behind her and took a few seconds to get used to the dark—it was really, really dark and she wondered why she hadn’t packed a flashlight, or better yet, a headlamp.

Holding onto the handrail she carefully made her way down the steps, trying not to think about what would happen if someone decided to take the same stairs up. Her bed hadn’t been made yet today, which meant she could very well run smack-dab into whoever’s job it was to make it up. She swallowed and simply hoped that wouldn’t happen.

One flight down she encountered a landing and felt around for a switch, flipping it on just long enough to see a door, which she assumed led to the main floor, and another flight of stairs leading down—to the underside. In darkness once again, she continued her way down the stairs, slowing her steps as light began seeping in around a corner. There didn’t seem to be a door at the bottom.

Assuming she was nearly there, she proceeded carefully forward, straining for any sound that would give away someone being at the bottom. On the final step she paused and listened to the silence for a full minute. Then she poked her head around the corner and scanned the hallway in both directions. Whereas the upper levels were ornate and beautiful, painted rich colors and decorated with what was obviously the finest accents—the below stairs hallway was painted a stark white with a flat gray carpet on the floor and the most basic of light fixtures attached to the ceiling. Surely the nobility was embarrassed by their obvious excess in relation to the staff quarters they provided.

An open door to the left showed a laundry room, but there were several other doors recessed from the hallway walls and she quickly darted across the hall to the first one, peering around the corner to see if anyone was further down the hall. The hallway was still empty so she hurried to the next doorway—this one had a sign attached to the wall that read Grant Contine.

Grant’s room?

She peeked around the corner of the doorway, but her attention was drawn back to the sign. Grant’s room. Here she was on her way to Austin’s room—but she was at Grant’s room. Maybe she could spare a minute or two just to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything. She grabbed the knob to verify it was locked, and then excitedly reached for the keys and let herself in.

Once inside she closed the door behind her and scanned the room, which consisted of a dresser, an armoire, a queen-sized bed, and a chair set opposite a small TV. She walked further into the room, looking at the details such as the made-up bed and the dresser top filled with a collection of colognes and other odds and ends, including an electric razor and a stack of books. Sadie moved carefully, glancing nervously at the door, well aware that Grant could return at any time. She needed to figure out whatever she could before that happened. If she were caught . . . well, she couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.

She picked up and replaced several objects on the dresser before realizing she should probably be careful about fingerprints—not that she had to worry about much of an investigation or anything. But still, she put her hands in her pockets as she moved to the armoire and pulled open the door with her hand still in her pocket. There were three uniforms as well as a few miscellaneous shirts and sweaters she assumed Grant wore on his days off. She removed her hands from her pockets in order to go through those of the uniform. None of the numerous pockets offered anything other than the fact that Grant liked to suck on hard candies.

Frustrated that she hadn’t found anything important, she moved to the small bedside table and pulled on the handle of the drawer. It didn’t budge, and on closer inspection Sadie realized it was locked. She frowned at the drawer and considered looking for a key or a hairpin, when she saw a book resting on top of the nightstand. It was a book of poetry, likely from the extensive library upstairs, but the page was marked by what looked like a light green envelope.

Sadie picked up the book and opened it, and removed the envelope while memorizing the page it was on for when she needed to replace it. The address to Southgate was handwritten and the postmark was a week old. It was certainly a personal correspondence and would hopefully help her learn more about Grant, but Sadie knew she couldn’t risk taking the time to read it right now. She put it in her back pocket and shut the book, promising herself she’d return the letter as soon as she could. The adrenaline was wearing off, allowing a healthy dose of anxiety to take its place. She’d been here for a few minutes and didn’t dare risk a longer stay. Taking a deep breath in hopes it would restore the courage that had allowed her to get this far, she moved carefully toward the door while scanning the room to make sure she hadn’t left anything out of place. She still had to get to Austin’s room.

She put her ear against the door even though she wasn’t sure it would help her hear anything, and then began pulling the door open carefully. In the same moment she noticed two things—the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from beneath a leather shaving kit on Grant’s dresser, and the sound of footsteps in the hall.