Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“I routinely set out bait in the kitchen area,” Mrs. Middleton replied, “and the other day, I put some in the storage closets on the first and second floors.”
“But not in the guests’ bedrooms?” Selena asked.
“No.” Mrs. Middleton shook her head.
“Where do we keep the rat poison? Would you show me?” Selena asked.
“Certainly.” Mrs. Middleton led Selena briskly down the hall to a storage closet. She opened the door and Selena followed her inside. “It’s here on this shelf.” The housekeeper indicated a small box marked DANGER! RAT POISON!
Selena’s shoulders fell with disappointment. Somehow, she had hoped the box would be missing—to prove that it had been stolen. “Is the closet ever locked?”
“No, never.”
“How do you use the poison?” Selena asked.
“I coat a few pieces of cheese with the granules or mix it into a pat of butter.”
Mrs. Middleton opened the box and showed it to Selena. It was half-full of tiny, white pellets. Granules. Just as Dr. Scott predicted.
“I tell the maids to be careful not to touch it directly and to immediately wash their hands and clean any tools they use.” The housekeeper closed the box.
“I’m sorry the colonel found a dead mouse in his room, but as you know, in a house this old, mice live in the walls.
Do you wish me to have bait set out anywhere? ”
“Not now. As I said, I was just curious.” Selena turned to go, then paused. “Where might I find Wells?”
“He’s in the butler’s pantry, I believe.”
“Thank you.” As Selena headed down the hall, she thought about the box of rat poison. Although no one had stolen it, that closet was never locked. Perhaps someone had made a paper sachet and stolen just enough granules to poison that sandwich when it had been left out on a table in the hall.
The only people she could imagine who would want to harm Colonel Blackwood were Maisie or Joe Webster.
Had one of them, or the pair working as a team, murdered Mrs. Goodwin at her home, then killed Jack Clarke and Mrs. Whitlock, and finally tried to silence the colonel?
What about the hidden money? Were they after that as well?
Selena was still pondering this when she reached the butler’s pantry.
The utility chamber, ringed by glass-fronted cabinets, held the manor house’s fine china, glassware, serving dishes, and silver.
The grey-haired butler stood at the central wooden table, his black tailcoat covered by a clean, white apron.
On the table before him lay the gleaming silver tea service and he was vigorously polishing its large, silver tray.
Selena mustered a smile and entered. “Good morning, Wells. I wondered if I might have a word?”
“Of course. Do you mind if I keep working, Miss Taylor? I polished the tea service last week for Christmas, but I noticed spots of tarnish this morning.”
“Please, continue.” Selena stopped beside him. The silver teapot, coffee pot, sugar bowl, creamer, pitcher, and tray already gleamed as if they were brand new—which showed how particular the butler was. “I wanted to speak to you about Sam.”
“Oh?” Wells poured more polish onto his rag.
“As I recall, you hired him just to help over the holidays?”
“That’s right. He leaves after the first of the year.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Sam?” The butler paused “Why? Has he done something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Selena replied congenially. “You did a fine job in choosing him. So fine that I was thinking of recommending him to Mrs. Hillman as a permanent hire.” Selena felt bad lying to this man, but it was the only excuse she could think of to gain the information she needed.
“Indeed?” Wells stood straighter, his chin raising. “What do you wish to know?”
“What is his training and experience? Where did he work before he came to Darkmoor Park?”
“He was—rather he is—second footman at Thurley House in South Yorkshire. Started there as hall boy when he was a lad, apparently. He’s only here on loan to us. The family went abroad for holidays.”
Selena’s heart skipped a beat. She recalled Mrs. Hillman mentioning that Clive Webster’s older brother had worked at a great house, but she had been vague about the details.
It was certainly possible that Joe Webster had worked in South Yorkshire, even if his siblings had been employed at the hotel in West Sussex. “How did you find him?”
“I placed an advertisement in The London Times and several Yorkshire newspapers.”
Yes, Selena thought. Joe Webster could have learned about Mrs. Hillman’s upcoming holiday house party from his sister, Maisie, at the Worthing Seaside Hotel.
If he had spied the advertisement for a temporary holiday post at Darkmoor Park, it might have seemed like the perfect opportunity to exact his revenge.
“He came with good references, I imagine?”
“He did.”
“What do you know about his family?”
“His family? I didn’t ask about that.” Wells energetically polished the platter in his hands. “He was only to be here such a short time, you see.” He held up the platter in front of his face, as if testing its mirror-like qualities. Frowning, he poured more polish on his rag.
“Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”
The butler pursed his lips. “Sam is pleasing to look at—an essential quality for a footman. He follows orders, knows how to polish a boot and carry a tray, and he sets a good table.” He hesitated. “However—may I be frank, miss?”
“Please.”
“I wouldn’t say he has the temperament to stay on at Darkmoor Park.”
“No? Why is that?” Selena’s brows lifted.
“He isn’t particularly well-liked by the staff. I suppose because he is a man of few words. Keeps himself to himself. In any case, I wouldn’t feel right poaching him from Thurley House. And in truth, I can’t say that we’d need additional help after Mrs. Hillman’s guests leave.”
“Good to know.” Selena was intrigued. If Sam was Joe Webster, with a vendetta to carry out and a secret identity to maintain, he would surely lie low and be careful not to say too much.
“Thank you, Wells. I appreciate your input. Have a good morning.” Selena turned for the door, when the butler spoke again.
“Wait. I remember now. Sam did say something about family.”
Selena glanced back at him. “Oh?”
“I mentioned, out of kindness, that I hope he didn’t mind spending the holidays away from home. He said it made no difference to him because his parents and brother were all dead. He had nothing left but a sister, he said.”
Goosebumps prickled on Selena’s arms. “Did he say where his sister lives?”
“In the south of England, I believe?”
“I see.” It was all Selena could do to keep her expression even. “Oh, one last thing, where might I find Sam? I want to speak to him.”
Wells glanced up at the clock. It was a quarter to eleven. “Breakfast ends soon. He should be clearing away the dishes. Which reminds me that I ought to head upstairs.” He began untying his apron.
Selena thanked him again and hurried from the room. Everything the butler had told her about Sam added up. The footman had been working at a great house at the time of Clive Webster’s trial. His brother was dead. And he had a sister still living—who resided in the south.
Selena had almost reached the servants’ stairs when footsteps pounded down from above and Sam himself darted into view, balancing a tray of dirty dishes and glassware. Selena ground to a halt.
Sam stopped abruptly before her, tray in hand. “Pardon me.” He looked dapper in his livery uniform.
“No, pardon me. I am in your way.” Selena retreated two steps and nearly ran into Wells.
“Has everyone left the morning room?” Wells demanded of the footman.
“All except Mrs. Hillman and Dr. Scott,” Sam replied.
“When you have cleared the room completely,” the butler instructed, “Mrs. Hillman wants coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and biscuits brought up to the library for all the guests.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam nodded.
As Wells plodded up the stairs, Selena asked, “Sam, may I have a word?”
The footman paused with his carefully balanced tray of dishes. “Miss?”
Selena chose her words just as carefully. “I have been negligent, Sam.”
“Pardon?”
“You have been with us—what is it, two weeks now? And I have not had the opportunity to give you a proper welcome.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t expect one.”
“But you deserve one. Mrs. Hillman and I are grateful that you were able to help at Darkmoor Park for the holidays. Indeed, I don’t know what we should have done without you.”
“Thank you, miss.”
“I understand that you are employed at a great house in South Yorkshire?”
“I am.”
Selena went fishing. “And you grew up in West Sussex?”
A line formed between his brows. “No, miss.”
“I must be remembering wrong. Perhaps I heard that you went to West Sussex on holiday?”
He seemed to be at a loss for words. “I did, a few months ago. How did you know?”
Selena fought hard to keep her face impassive.
Mrs. Goodwin died at the Worthing Seaside Hotel a few months ago.
“I think your employer mentioned it to Wells? It’s no matter.
I don’t know why it even occurred to me.
” Selena lowered her voice. “Sam, the other reason I wanted to speak to you is to offer my condolences. Wells told me that your brother died. I am so sorry.”
The wrinkle in his forehead grew deeper. “That was a long time ago.”
“Even so, I can only imagine how difficult it must be to lose a sibling. I have two sisters and a brother. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to them.”
He stared at the floor. “It was hardest on my mother, I think. She said there’s nothing so hard to bear as the loss of a child.”
Selena took that in, seeing the truth in it. It would indeed, she thought, be devastating to lose one’s child. She was searching for an appropriate response when George sprinted down the stairs with his own tray of dirty dishes and called out, “Sam! Why are you lolling about? Get a move on!”
“Pardon me, miss.” Sam rapidly followed George down the hall.
Here was Selena’s chance to catch him. “I say, Joe!” she called out.
Sam stopped in his tracks and turned back.
Got you! Selena thought in silent triumph.
He stared at her. “My name is Sam.”
“Of course, sorry. Keep up the good work, Sam,” Selena told him.
Without a nod or a thank you, he whirled and disappeared into the kitchen. Selena’s pulse pounded as she hurried upstairs. Had he turned around because she’d called out his real name? So many of the other pieces of the puzzle fit to perfection.
She could hardly wait to tell Dr. Scott. And she ought to inform Mrs. Hillman as well.