A Beautiful Blue Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

week.”
    “Five? Goodness. I’ll leave them for later, but can you tell me if they were all here between ten and two today?”
    “All five, yes. They were all in the drawing room and then at lunch during those hours, including Mr. Barnard.”
    “And the staff?”
    “Everyone except the boy, who was running errands, was either downstairs preparing food or upstairs serving it.”
    “And were there any milkmen or salesmen or anybody of the kind who came to the door, either the upstairs door or the servants’ door?”
    “None. I answer the door myself. Mr. Barnard prefers a housekeeper to a butler.”
    “I have your word on that? None?”
    “Yes.”
    “You no doubt hired Miss Smith, is that correct?”
    “I am responsible for all hiring.”
    “And supervised her too?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Was there anything peculiar about her these last few months?”
    Miss Harrison looked as if it would physically hurt her to speak, but after a tense moment, she said, “No, sir. And now I really must be off to finish the evening’s chores.”

Chapter 6
    T he thin, winding path of Hampden Lane was trapped in shadows, but two lights gleamed shallowly into the darkness. Graham was still awake in Lenox’s own house, and Lady Jane was awake too, hoping for his visit. Tired though he was, he had the cab stop at her door, which looked so much like his: a white door to a gray house.
    “Jane!” he whispered through the side window.
    There was a flurry of quiet steps, and the door opened a crack.
    “Charles! Quiet, quiet, we mustn’t wake Kirk, he’ll be so cross!”
    But she had, perhaps, underestimated her butler, who was in his own way as dependable as Graham, for when they sneaked into the dimly lit drawing room, he was standing there with a tray of spirits and sandwiches.
    “With your permission, my lady,” he said, “may I—”
    “Oh, Kirk, you darling man, yes, go to bed. Thank you so much.”
    She smiled at him and then sat down on the edge of her rose-colored sofa, in the middle of the room, to pour them drinks. Lenox saw a down-turned book alongside a chair near the window,and it was clear to him that she had been waiting there, where she could see when he returned. Lenox wandered toward her desk. She had a far more splendid one in the morning room on the second floor, where she wrote to her friends, looked out over the garden, and had her breakfast, but she used the desk in her drawing room for a thousand smaller things, and it was cluttered, like his own, with all the artifacts of a happy life—unread papers, silver trinkets, old books, pencils, and pens. It made Lenox feel as if he had come home to see it.
    “Charles,” she said, “I knew you would come. It doesn’t mean you aren’t good to do it, but still, I knew you would.”
    She finished pouring their drinks: a scotch and warm soda for him, blended to the color of amber, and a glass of sherry for her. They each took a sip and then, for some reason, perhaps the strain of the evening, perhaps their relief that it was over at last, looked at each other and laughed. She gave him a plate with several sandwiches on it and took one for herself.
    “Will you tell me what you learned?” she said.
    “As you can imagine,” said Lenox, leaning back, “Barnard was none too pleased with the whole matter.”
    “Of course not, the beast.”
    “He had enlisted a man from the Yard named Jenkins, which was a blessing, actually, because Jenkins let McConnell and me have a look at everything. There aren’t three other men on the force who would have.”
    “Thank goodness that man wasn’t there, the one—oh, I always forget his name.…”
    “Exeter.”
    “Yes!”
    “Exactly what I thought, my lady,” he said, and laughed.
    “Well, and what happened?”
    “George stomped around a bit and insisted that there was nothing at all mysterious about any of it, which raised my eyebrows right away. He asked about you, of course.”
    “Did he? What do you mean by of