On a Desert Shore (19 page)

“Can you speak to us?” said Beatrice.

“She flew out at me. She crept down to the drawing room and took the stitchery scissors from my workbox. Wicked, wicked creature.”

Chase approached the bed. One hand emerged from the folds of Marina's nightgown, and a gleam caught the candlelight. “What's that?” he said.

“Be careful,” said Penelope. “It looks sharp. She'll cut herself.”

“What have you done, Marina?” Honeycutt whispered. He reached out a tentative hand toward her. But Lewis glared at him with such ferocity that he retreated.

“Lewis,” warned Buckler.

Chase plucked the scissors from Marina's grip. About four inches long, they had gilded silver mounts with mother-of-pearl handles. The blades were steel with sharp points. He handed the scissors to Penelope and lifted Mrs. Yates in his arms, staggering a little at her unexpected weight.

“Ned!” cried Beatrice. “Come help us.”

With a muttered curse, Honeycutt strode over to take his aunt from Chase. He bore her to an armchair by the mantelpiece, where he deposited her gently. “It's all right, auntie. There's nothing to frighten you anymore.” He hesitated. “Where's that fool maid of Marina's?”

Marina's maid Todd detached herself from the other servants, who stood gaping from the doorway. “Sir?” she said breathlessly.

“Fetch the smelling salts,” he snapped. Beatrice went to dab her brother's bloody lip with her handkerchief as Honeycutt fingered his jaw. He said to Chase, “I don't complain about your hotheaded conduct, for I know you only meant to do your job. You misinterpreted my actions; that's all. I thought Miss Garrod hysterical.”

“Only a blackguard strikes a woman,” flashed Lewis.

“You will leave this house at dawn, Durant,” said Honeycutt between his teeth.

“Don't be rude, Ned,” murmured Beatrice. “Though under the circumstances—”

Suddenly Samuel Tallboys appeared in the doorway, a majestic figure in a richly braided scarlet dressing gown. Without his wig, his skull with its short fuzz of hair resembled a sheep shorn of its coat, and his face radiated disapproval as he lumbered across the floor to Beatrice's side. “My dear Miss Honeycutt and Mrs. Yates. What in heaven's name has occurred?”

“Oh, sir,” Beatrice said, “my aunt has been attacked. She might have been killed.” She indicated the scissors in Penelope's hand.

“With the sewing scissors?” said Penelope.

Buckler came to stand at her side. “More to the point, no one appears to be injured.”

Tallboys looked aghast. He raised a hand to scratch his head absent-mindedly. “Oh, this is terrible indeed. But who did this?”

“I startled Marina, Mr. Tallboys,” said Mrs. Yates. “It was entirely my own doing.”

Tallboys wheeled an ominous gaze on the girl. “Explain yourself, miss.”

Chase had gone to light the lamp on the bureau. “Tallboys, dismiss the servants,” he said over his shoulder. “You won't want an audience.” In the increased illumination, he saw the disappointment on the avid faces at the door, but the group withdrew at a terse command from the clergyman.

When they were gone, Chase said to Mrs. Yates, “Are you recovered enough to explain? Why were you in Miss Garrod's room at this hour?”

“I…I was worried about her. I feared she might leave her bed again, so I put my head in. I was relieved to see she was asleep, but when I came closer, she leapt up and menaced me with the scissors.”

“That's a lie,” said Marina. “I don't know where those scissors came from. She slipped them into my hand as I slept.” All eyes turned to the girl. She had her arms clasped around her knees and her head bowed, her long hair flowing down her back. Her voice was vigorous, and she seemed to have shaken off some of her initial confusion.

Mrs. Yates said, “How I wish that were true. To think this could happen in our family. Hugo would be so grieved.” She sniffed dolefully.

“No one touched you with the scissors?” demanded Chase.

“No, but I tripped over the counterpane and fell. My nerves are shattered, and I am bruised. But I shall do very well with rest.”

“Where can Todd be?” said Beatrice. “We must get my aunt to bed and attend to Marina.” She sat on the edge of the bed, but Marina pulled away. Shrugging, Beatrice looked around the room as if seeking support. No one moved. Penelope laid a restraining hand on her brother's arm when he tried again to go to the girl.

“Here, ma'am,” said the lady's maid, reentering from the dressing room. She waved the smelling salts under Mrs. Yates' nose, then offered them to her mistress, who flinched back.

“Why, what's wrong with you, miss?” said Todd, sounding indignant.

“Stay away from me,” said Marina.

“That's no way to talk, Miss Garrod,” said Tallboys.

Beatrice Honeycutt joined the maid. “Marina, let us help you. Tell us what happened. Why did you have our aunt's scissors in your possession?”

“But I didn't.”

“For shame, Marina,” said Mrs. Yates.

“Give her some room.”Chase positioned himself so that he stood between the girl and everyone else.

Honeycutt shook his head. “Don't expect to get any sense from her, at least not tonight. We must leave her to the care of her maid. As my aunt says, I'm sure Miss Garrod was merely frightened when her sleep was disturbed. No surprise, I suppose, after the events of the last few days. We are all on edge.”

Marina seized on this excuse. “Yes…yes, that is what happened. I apologize for rousing the house. I beg that you leave me now.”

“That's right, Miss Marina,” the maid scolded. “Let's have no more of this nonsense. You do as you're told, and you'll be fine. I'll heat some milk for you, and that'll settle you.” Todd waved her smelling salts under the girl's nose.

Chase's eyes traveled to the nightstand upon which sat an almost empty glass. He picked it up and sniffed. Then he swiped a finger across the bottom to taste the residue. “Your composing draught, Miss Garrod? The same you took the last time?”

“Yes, Mr. Chase.”

“You were deeply asleep? No wandering from your bed this time?”

“No, sir.”

Honeycutt interrupted. “Can your questions wait for morning? Nothing can be accomplished tonight. We are exhausted and distressed. I am only thankful my aunt has not been seriously injured.”

“Mr. Durant?” said Marina.

“I will see you tomorrow, Miss Garrod,” Lewis said.

“You won't go before we can say goodbye?”

“I won't, I promise. Isn't that right, Penelope?”

She nodded. “Yes, we promise.” She went to the washstand and poured Marina a glass of water.

Marina took the glass with shaking hands and drank deeply. “I'm sure…” She broke off, cleared her throat, and tried again. “I was dreaming,” she said in a small, stony voice. “I awoke to my aunt's scream. I never took those scissors. I don't know why I had them.”

As she spoke, she kept her eyes on Lewis, as if she feared she would drown. Chase felt a spark of pity ignite and roar to a flame. He'd been trying so hard to do his duty by this child that he had forgotten how young she was. He must do better, he told himself. What had really happened here tonight? He knew Marina felt threatened, but would she attack a member of her family, possibly in self-defense? An old woman seemed an unlikely assailant. Had they planned some kind of attack, or was this another trick to discredit her? Penelope regarded him somberly, and Chase knew she had seen the implications too. Anyone entering the room would have found Marina Garrod in a drugged sleep. Whoever it was would have realized she could not defend herself or, perhaps more to the point, give a coherent account.

“She's tired, John,” said Penelope, leaning over to straighten the bedclothes.

Chase nodded. “We'll leave you, Miss Garrod. You may sleep without worry. I'll be outside in the corridor for the remainder of the night.”

Chapter Nineteen

John Chase occupied the hours until dawn by establishing himself in a chair outside Marina's door, ordering a pot of coffee from a sleepy footman, and reviewing his occurrence book. When he had gone through the entire book twice, he turned to a fresh page. His pencil moving rapidly, he jotted notes:

Garrod gives daughter a season: malicious tricks begin. To disgrace and unnerve her? Drug her to make her seem crazy? Prevent her marriage to someone outside the family? Encourage Garrod to disinherit her? A conspiracy? Sewing scissors “attack”: Does Mrs. Yates help someone or act alone?

Garrod keeps family guessing—was he about to change the will again? Thought Marina unstable? Nephew Ned Honeycutt has debts, argues with uncle. WHO IS THE HEIR? Marina? Beatrice? Ned? Ned and Beatrice? Ned and Marina? Mrs. Yates? Tallboys to hold purse-strings?

Garrod hires a Bow Street Runner, then is poisoned (Why? To preserve current will? Killer worried about what Runner might uncover?)

The key: Did Garrod drop it in the hothouse? Valet contradicts. An attempt to mislead the inquiry? Killer had no opportunity to return key to proper place?

Nothing wrong with sugar on prior evening when Garrod made tea; key safe in dressing room for night

Morning of Poisoning:

9:00 – Servants finished cleaning ground-floor rooms in time for breakfast; breakfast table laid in morning room. Note: morning room attaches to drawing room, where teapoy was placed

9:30 - Garrod leaves bedchamber for breakfast; valet goes downstairs; key in writing desk, which is left unlocked on this day (lucky for murderer)

10:00 – Valet back in bedchamber; key discovered missing; Tallboys: breakfast with Marina and Beatrice; chambermaids at work in first- and second-floor bedrooms

10:15: Garrod with messenger from the City in the study

11:00 – Teapoy moved from drawing room.
A. precatorius
beads in boiler room suggest tampering occurred in hothouse—did it?

3:00 – Key found in Penelope's presence

Where were family members between 9:30-10:00 in the morning (probable time of key theft)

Marina: sees father about 8:00; in her bedchamber until 10:00 (later that night: not in hothouse to drink tea)

Beatrice: breakfast with Marina and Tallboys around 10:00. In her bedroom at 9:30? Did she come downstairs earlier? (was in hothouse: got sick from tea, but how ill was she?)

Tallboys: could have arrived early to slip upstairs, steal key, and poison sugar (present in hothouse: very sick)

Honeycutt: says he was asleep until 11:00 (not in hothouse to drink tea, in orangery quarreling with Lewis)

Mrs. Yates: household duties downstairs, asked Garrod for the key about 10:00 (was in hothouse: didn't drink her tea)

Is the trickster the murderer—or are there two different people?

Tricks: The necklace/bracelet of
A. precatorius
beads given to Marina

John Crow feather, dirt, eggshells in reticule

Light in garden (seen by others besides Marina)

Obeah charm with another feather found above Garrod's door (Why? A curse on Marina? A curse on Garrod? Implicate Marina?)

A curse…means what? Cursed by pride? Envy of Marina's position? Marina…a cuckoo in the wrong nest

A deadly trick: Poison in the sugar:
Abrus precatorius
?

Under-gardener finds
A. precatorius
beads in boiler room. When put there and why?

Here Chase stopped, his heart pounding as he skimmed the pages to find the record of his conversation with the under-gardener Higgins. Chase had remembered Penelope's comment before dinner on the night of the poisoning. She'd told him that Garrod showed her his steam-heating apparatus, bragging of its marvels and perfections. No mention of any malfunction. This was on Tuesday, the day of the poisoning. Higgins had mentioned that someone told him to inspect the boiler on Thursday but he had detected nothing wrong with it.

Suddenly Chase knew why. Someone had wanted those beads discovered and was too impatient to wait for one of the staff to go down to the cellar on a routine visit. The inquest was to be held the next day on Friday, and the gardener's testimony would be too important. This was because he needed to tell his story about finding the exotic poison that pointed to Marina Garrod as a murderous lunatic.

Hours passed while Chase sat there thinking. His limbs were stiff, his shoulders tight with tension and his knee throbbing. From below, he heard the first stirrings of the household, as footsteps crossed the marble entrance hall. Then he heard hushed voices and muffled thumps. In the basement kitchen the maid of all work would be lighting the kitchen fire and putting the kettle on to boil. Soon she would be dusting and sweeping the ground floor rooms and laying the table for breakfast. Creakily, Chase rose to his feet and tucked his occurrence book back in his pocket.

***

Two hours later Anne Yates received him in the housekeeper's room. She was dressed in a dark bombazine gown and wore a black profile cameo on her massive bosom. She stood before Chase, a rounded figure with no hint of softness. Greeting him warily, she did not offer him a seat. “I can spare you but a moment, sir. I am needed elsewhere this morning.”

“You're no worse after your fright last night, ma'am?”

“Thank you, I am well. A night's rest has restored me.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Chase waited.

“Did you wish to ask me something?” she said at last. She laced her plump hands in front of her with exaggerated patience but regarded the open door, as if eager to escape him. The housekeeper's claim of being occupied on this morning seemed plausible. From the kitchen, pots and pans banged, and voices sounded up and down the corridor. Not that Chase cared one way or the other, but Mrs. Yates would be overseeing the preparations for Hugo Garrod's funeral in addition to her usual duties. On his way down the stairs, Chase had seen several manservants in black gloves, carrying hats decorated with a band of flowing black material. The pallbearers, he'd assumed. The butler had told him that Honeycutt and most of the servants would attend the funeral in a few hours but not the ladies of the house, whom Tallboys had urged to remain in seclusion. There was to be no cold collation offered to the mourners on this occasion, a regrettable lapse in decorum, the butler had said, as was the rather hurried aspect of the obsequies.

“I won't take up much of your time,” Chase said to Mrs. Yates. “I hope you can answer a few questions I have about the day of Mr. Garrod's party.”

“I've told you all I know. Surely we covered that ground at the inquest.”

“Not so. You see, ma'am, I've been a fool.”

“I don't understand you. I'm sure you've done the best you could. It's difficult—you were put in an impossible situation.”

“Impossible because I was hired to guard a girl who has lost her wits? I don't suppose she really understands her actions. We must forgive her, don't you agree? She requires special care?”

A hectic light showed in her eyes before it was doused. The color drained from her cheeks. She looked old and unsure and anxious. Chase watched her struggle to frame a reply and felt not the smallest compunction for pushing her. She said, “Marina is my niece, sir. You will not speak ill of her to me.”

“No?” he said softly. “May I assume you're willing to excuse attempted murder? After all, those scissors were sharp enough to have done the job.”

“Yes, yes, I would forgive her anything.” She sat down hard in her armchair, the crimped material of her gown rustling. The grooves around her mouth deepened as she set her lips, her thoughts obviously unpleasant.

He watched her straighten her posture and compose her features; then he said, “Well, since you're busy this morning, let's turn to business, Mrs. Yates. You see, I've spent too much time thinking about the hothouse. An understandable error, perhaps, but still thickheaded on my part. The teapoy sat there, more or less unattended for much of the day, including the period when everyone was at dinner and when the staff had finished with their work. Moreover, the missing key and the poisonous beads were also found nearby.”

“Because that's where the poisoning occurred,” she replied in a dull, lifeless tone. She looked at her hands, which were clasped in her lap, and pressed them together so that the black-green veins protruded.

“True but not necessarily where the poison was put into the sugar. I believe that may have happened earlier in the day in the drawing room, specifically between half past nine and ten o'clock. So I'll ask you to account for your own movements and the movements of anyone you may have seen downstairs at this time. Start with Miss Garrod. Where was she?”

“I don't know,” she said, almost whispering. “Upstairs, I think. I didn't see her until after breakfast.”

“Were you anywhere near the drawing room at that hour? I see from my notes that you yourself take breakfast only after the family has eaten when there's a lull in your work, but you would have gone into the morning room to check the hot water or make sure nothing else was needed? You were there at ten o'clock to ask Mr. Garrod for the key to his teapoy. Isn't that right?”

When she didn't answer, Chase said, “I believe you are quite fond of your nieces and nephew? Active on their behalf?”

“I'm not sure what you mean, sir, but I have done nothing wrong, absolutely nothing.”

“You haven't answered my question, ma'am. Were you or weren't you near the drawing room between half past nine and ten? And did you encounter anyone else? Mr. Tallboys eager for his appointment with Miss Honeycutt? A member of your family who came downstairs earlier than usual?”

She stared at him with dawning horror.

***

After his conversation with Mrs. Yates, Chase went in search of the under-gardener Higgins. But after following the circular walk for an hour, peering into the turn-offs from the main route to find fountains playing to no one and luxuriant flowers flaunting their beauty in innocent seclusion, he gave up and moved back toward the house. His temper was foul. The pleasant summer morning, cool and cloudy, offered a relief from the oppressive heat, though this could not compensate for the feeling that he was running out of time. He needed results—and fast. He had shaken Mrs. Yates but not broken her. Now she would have time to refurbish her narrative and strengthen her defenses, and Chase would be no closer to proving the truth of the suspicions now assuming solid form.

Then, as if in answer to his summons, he heard a voice: “Chase!”

He was in a small wilderness in a corner of the garden that he hadn't visited before. He stopped and looked around. Noah Packet stood in dappled sunlight, an uneasy expression on his face, his mouth pulled down, his eyes furtive.

“I was hoping you'd turn up,” said Chase. “Got something for me?”

“I knocked at the kitchen door. They told me you'd walked out. Been looking for you.” Packet cast a glance around, as if afraid the trees might be listening. As a general rule, Chase was not a man who appreciated the beauties of nature, but Packet, creature of grimy city streets and smoky taverns, looked as much a fish out of water as anyone he had ever seen.

“You found me,” Chase said.

Packet drew the medicine vial from the inside pocket of his coat. As he held it out, the green glass sparkled in a ray of light. The thief's eyes shot briefly to Chase's face, then fell away. “You'll be glad to have this back.”

Chase took it. “You've learned where it came from?”

Packet recited a name and address, then said, “The chemist would have nothing to say to me. Maybe you can persuade him.”

“I'll do that.” Chase extracted several coins from his purse and gave them to Packet. “Be off before someone decides you're up to no good.”

“You mean up to no good like you?” Packet thrust the coins into yet another inside pocket and set off, whistling tunelessly, in the direction of the Wandsworth Road.

***

The next step was to inquire how Marina Garrod had passed the night, but when Chase approached her bedchamber, Lewis stood outside the door with two new guards, one of them sitting in Chase's chair. As Lewis argued with them, a dark-haired, burly guard, who had an angry boil on his chin, patted the truncheon at his side. The man in the chair—slim, fair-haired, and vacant—stared at the wall.

“I just want to speak to her,” Lewis was saying. “Can you at least deliver a message?”

“That's what we can't do,” said the one with the truncheon. “No offense, mind. Orders.”

“Mr. Chase's orders?”

“No,” said Chase, coming up at that moment, “not my orders. What's this about? The boy merely wishes to assure himself that Miss Garrod is well. And who the devil are you two?”

“No visitors. No messages. The young lady is to be left entirely undisturbed,” said the burly guard.

For once Lewis looked happy to see Chase. His brow lightened, and he reached out to grip Chase's coat sleeve. “They've locked her up, sir. We must get her out.” He leaned around the burly man to deliver a rap at the door. “Marina, can you hear me?”

The vacant guard showed sudden signs of energy. Jumping up, he stepped closer to his companion, and they formed a barrier, elbows raised aggressively. “You watch it, boy,” this man said, speaking for the first time. “Don't make any trouble, or we'll remove you.”

“You just try it! Let her come and speak to me herself.”

“She sees no one,” said the burly guard.