Chapter Thirty-Six
THIRTY-SIX
Gray and I are walking briskly through the New Town with Art, who says he’s found what I was looking for—another spot where Nellie’s items could have been hidden. Not only that, but apparently, Nellie led him to it. Or her ghost did, at least.
“I could not shake the sense that I had missed something yesterday,” he says. “I lay awake, tossing and turning. I could feel, in my heart, that I needed to go back to the Adler house and look harder. So, just before dawn, I ventured out.”
“At night?” I say. “I thought your mother did not allow that?”
He bristles. “She does not like it, but I am not a child. While I understand her concern, if I feel the need to go out, I am old enough to do so.”
That’s not the impression he gave yesterday, when it seemed his mother’s rule meant he couldn’t have been out the night Nellie died.
“All right,” I say. “So you went to the Adler house and…”
“I saw her. In the darkness. Standing beside the house as if waiting for me.”
I stop myself before asking more about what exactly he saw.
“You saw Nellie’s ghost beside the house?” I prompt.
“Yes, and it set me back at first. I slipped behind the coach house. She bent and pushed aside the bush there, and then knelt as if leaning over something, her hands moving as if searching. Then a light came on in the coach house. It startled her, and she leapt to her feet and ran back the way she’d come, vanishing into the night. ”
“The groom who lit the lamp, did he spot her?”
“I do not think so. I was more worried that he would spot me. Being at the Adlers’ at such an hour might cost me my post. So as curious as I was, I waited until I could hear the groom in the stable, looking after the horses, and then I raced over to the spot Nellie showed me.
When I pulled back the bush, there was a perfect place between the bush and the wall.
And while it was empty, there were marks in the dirt, as if things had been there and later removed.
” He glances over. “I think it is what you were seeking. The place where Nellie’s killer hid her belongings. ”
We stop by to tell Simon and Jack where we’ll be.
Then Gray hails a hansom cab. When we reach Art’s home, he needs to dart inside and tell his mother that he’s gone early to the Adlers’ house.
He lives only about a quarter mile from the Adler residence, but in an entirely different world, huge steps down the social ladder.
Oddly, I seem to recall the spot, a memory drifting up, of a modern student housing building here and someone telling me …
But I don’t remember the rest.
When we reach the Adler house, Gray goes ahead to speak to Lady Adler. We decide I won’t wait for permission. By the time it can be denied, I’ll have checked the spot.
Art leads me to the west side of the house.
The bush is at the back, and before I check it, I ask where he’d holed up to watch the ghost. He indicates a place near the stables, and I can confirm that his story fits.
From there, he could see the bush and anyone at that bush would notice a light go on in the coach house.
I pull back the bush. It’s a thick one, healthy and green. Behind it is an empty space and a divot in the bare earth, like the kind of spot you might pick when playing hide-and-seek. Just big enough to hunker down in and not be seen through that greenery.
As Art said, there are marks in the dirt. Scrapes. As if something had been pulled out. I have him hold back the branches while I examine the ground. There’s also a boot print. A very clear one, as if someone had planted their foot there to pull out whatever was in that spot.
I’m on all fours looking at that print—a woman’s boot, exactly the size of mine but, thankfully, not a mark I made by accident—when I see something else, way in the back, caught on a branch.
I reach in, and my fingers touch metal and worn leather.
I tug, but it stays put, as if caught on that branch.
I maneuver in, careful not to disturb any marks on the ground.
Then I work the object free and withdraw.
It’s metal, attached to an old piece of leather with frayed threads.
I turn it over in my hand, frowning. Then I realize what I’m looking at.
It’s a buckle, like from a suitcase or other bag.
It must have been ready to fall off, judging by those threads, and then it came free when it got caught, someone yanking the bag from the hiding place.
I turn to Art. “You said Nellie’s ghost dug around back in here, as if searching for something.”
He shook his head. “She was showing me where to look.”
“But bent or kneeling, pushing past the bush, patting around the spot?”
“Yes.”
Looking for the buckle that fell off the bag.
Now comes the tricky part. Art thinks he saw Nellie’s ghost. How do I get an honest observation without him tailoring the evidence to fit?
I’m not sure I can. Whatever he saw, he honestly believes it was Nellie. Therefore, it’s unlikely he spotted one of the grooms digging around back here. Or Lady Adler. It had to be someone who could pass for Nellie. But how good was the lighting?
Before I ask anything, I retreat to that spot where he’d hidden. It’s about sixty feet from the house.
“You said it was before dawn.”
“When I left our apartment, it was past four thirty. So probably near five.”
“Full dark.”
“Yes.”
Which is why the groom lit a lamp. Rising for his shift, needing something to see by.
“Were the coach house lights on?”
Art shakes his head. “There was just the moon. I could see where I was going.” A pause. “And I could see Nellie, if that is what you are asking.”
No, from this distance, in those conditions, he could only see enough of a figure to decide it was Nellie.
“You understand that I need to ask more,” I say. “In case it was her killer.”
“It was not.”
When I look at him, he meets my eye. “It was not, miss. It was Nellie. She was the same height and size.”
“With auburn hair?”
The briefest hesitation answers my question before he says, firmly, “It was dark, and the red in her hair would not have shown in that lighting. But I know it was her.”
“By her size.”
An exasperated groan. “Yes, by the height and the shape of her. It was Nellie.”
No, it wasn’t. But I think I know who it was.
It doesn’t take brilliant detective work to guess who Art saw early this morning. Only one female member of the household is dark-haired and shares a similar build with Nellie. Fortunately, it’s also the person I need to speak to.
I find Gray and Lord Adler having coffee in the library. I tell Lord Adler to whom I need to speak, and he directs me with an annoyed wave at the interruption.
I track down Sully to Lady Adler’s sitting room, where she sits alone at her employer’s writing desk, working on her correspondence.
“Oh good,” I say when Sully turns with a start. “Lady Adler finally let you help her catch up on her letters. You are writing her replies, I take it.”
That’s not at all suspicious—Lady Adler said it’s one of her tasks. Lady Adler will have gone through her invitations with yeas and nays, and it is up to Sully to pen the actual responses.
“You are not allowed to be in here,” Sully says, rising.
“Lord Adler told me where to find you and gave me permission to speak to you while his wife is out.”
She still glances at the door.
“If you are thinking of making a run for it, you’ll find I can run faster.”
She stares, as if I’ve said something unbelievably rude.
I hold out the buckle. “I believe you lost this when you retrieved Nellie’s things from behind the bush this morning.”
One flicker of shock and then her mouth sets in a thin line. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Someone spotted you just before dawn and identified you as the person who removed a bag. There’s also a boot print, and if you deny that it was you, I will get it and match it. That is Dr. Gray’s specialty, as you may know. Crime-scene analysis.”
At this stage, she could point out that I have no proof the bag held Nellie’s belongings, but the mention of both a witness and evidence seems to clinch the matter for her.
“And what are you going to do?” she says. “Arrest me for theft? You are not an officer of the law, and even if you called one, it is not theft.”
“No?”
“No. I can return the clothes, undamaged. I did not use them or sell them or ruin them. Therefore, if I return them, it is no longer a theft.”
That’s an … interesting interpretation of the law. However, it’s not in my interests to argue.
“Fine,” I say. “I will spare you the humiliation of a police interview if you are honest with me. You took Nellie’s clothing after she disappeared. Tell me what happened.”
She sits back, only half turned to face me. “I heard one of the maids say Nellie had left in the night. While those silly girls were chattering about beaus and elopements, I slipped upstairs and found that Nellie had not taken her things.”
“So you did.”
“Her bag was under the bed. I filled it and put it into my room down the hall. After the others discovered Nellie’s things missing, I had a chance to sneak out and hide it under the bush. I planned to retrieve it later.”
“But then you got the message about your sister being ill.”
“Yes, and I had to leave promptly, so I could not take the bag. When I returned to find Nellie had been murdered, I needed to get rid of it.”
“And you hid her things because…?”
Her chin lifts. “I wanted her gone, and she was not gone.”
“So you … made it seem as if she was?”
“Yes.”
I school my features, nodding as if this makes sense. “And how did you know she wouldn’t return?”
When Sully frowns, I repeat the very obvious question, which has a very obvious answer—that the person who killed Nellie would know she’d never return—but Sully only continues to look confused until she says, “I did not know. I prepared.”
“For her possible return.”
“Yes.” A smug smile. “If she came back after taking her things, it would make her seem shiftless, and Lady Adler has no time for shiftless maids.”
“And would no longer consider her for your position?”
Sully could pretend she never thought of Nellie as a rival, but she only says, “Yes. And if that did not work, I knew a secret Nellie would not wish told.”
“Which was?”
Her lip curls in condescension. “I am not telling you.”
“It was about her friend Mary, who died in the bog. You found out about it and thought you could use it as some kind of leverage over Nellie, but when you were called away, you lost that chance, and so you mailed an anonymous letter to Lady Adler.”
She goggles at me. “Who—who told you—?”
“A ghost,” I say with a humorless smile, and she flinches, as if I might actually be serious.
“You sent the letter, not realizing Lady Adler wouldn’t open it while you were away.
Then you came back, saw the stack of correspondence, and offered to go through it, only she said no.
You did it anyway, and then when I showed up, you made an excuse to run an errand and scampered downstairs, where you put the letter into the oven’s firebox. ” I meet her gaze. “How close am I?”
She blinks, her answer coming in stunned silence.
“I’m a detective,” I say. “I follow the clues, and yours were plastered everywhere. You wrote a letter about Mary’s death, thinking it would convince Lady Adler that Nellie wasn’t lady’s maid material.”
“She was not. That … that girl was…” Her lip curls again. “Investigating a death.”
Now I’m the one trying not to blink in surprise. I thought she’d accused Nellie of killing Mary, which is the obvious answer.
“Investigating—?”
“It is unseemly,” she says. “Distasteful. That girl was wrong in the head. It was bad enough, her reading those detective novels, but then fancying herself a detective? When I caught her reading them, I told Lady Adler, who was utterly unconcerned. But she would have cared if the girl was actually investigating a death.”
No, she would not have, which only proves, once again, that while Miss Sullivan clearly thinks herself a clever young woman, she really isn’t.
“Nellie told you she was investigating her friend’s death?”
That sneer again. “We never spoke. I overheard her talking to one of the other maids about it.”
“Which one?”
“Lily, I think. I can never tell them apart.”
“Nellie was telling Lily that she was investigating Mary’s death?”
“They were discussing it. Evidently, that was why Nellie was slipping out in the evenings. Can you imagine?” She shudders. “That girl was not right in the head.”