Chapter 10 #3
“You just returned from the Isle of Wight. I understand that you travel back and forth and were there in July as a guest of the Prince of Wales. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“The lady who was soon to become Mrs. Frederick Locock … she didn’t accompany you on that trip?”
“No.”
“A last fling at bachelorhood?”
“I don’t know what you mean to infer, but it’s damned offensive.”
Tennant shrugged. “How can I offend if my inference isn’t clear? Let me make my meaning plain. A gentleman spends time away with male friends shortly before his nuptials. The … frolics at such gatherings are well-known.”
“Not to me, Inspector.”
“Captain Locock, you were a guest at Osborne House in July when someone impregnated Lizzie Dowling.”
Tennant waited. Locock squirmed but said nothing.
“After your wedding trip, you returned to the Isle of Wight in October. Someone murdered Lizzie Dowling in October. Someone who held her head under the water until she drowned.”
“I know nothing about it. To imply I do is outrageous.”
“You attended the Marlborough House ball in December and were privy to her sister’s travel plans. Captain, you are one of a small fraternity I can place in all three locations at the relevant times.”
Locock stared and blinked rapidly. Then he relaxed his shoulders and spread his hands. “As you say, I am one of a group of men. But not the right one. You must search for your killer among the others in your ‘fraternity.’ ”
“Describe, if you will, your movements on the afternoon of Lizzie Dowling’s murder. You recall the day, I presume. The murder of a queen’s servant isn’t an everyday affair.”
“I spent the day at my father’s house. He was absent, attending the royal family at Osborne House. I went for a long walk and returned for tea in the late afternoon. I cannot be more precise about time.”
“You saw no one?”
He shrugged. “Some farm workers, bringing in the hay. I doubt they noticed me, either.”
“And Mrs. Locock? Will she confirm your statement if asked?”
“Damn it, Inspector. I don’t want her bothered. She’s not strong, and she’s worried about our baby just now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. And where were you Thursday night and into the early hours of Friday morning?”
“I was at my club and returned home around one. And before you ask, I let myself in with my latchkey and slept in my dressing room, not wanting to disturb my wife.”
“Can a coachman or cabbie confirm the time of your return?
“I belong to the Army and Navy.” Locock glanced at Tennant’s regimental tie. “You know the club and my address in town?” Tennant nodded. “Then you know it’s a short walk along Pall Mall to my house.”
“I believe your town house is a grace-and-favor,” Tennant said. “Interesting term. Tell me, what favor made the prince grace you with that expensive address?”
At last, Tennant thought he’d rattled the man. Locock licked his lips. His gaze dropped to the desktop. “Bertie … His Royal Highness is generous to his friends.”
Tennant stood. “It’s unfortunate that you can’t supply an alibi for any of the days and times in question.”
“That proves nothing.”
“True. But it means you remain a person of interest.” Tennant tugged his hat in place. “Good afternoon, Captain.”
The inspector exited and glanced back at the nameplate on the closed door. He smiled. I’ve rattled Captain Frederick H. L. Locock, Director of Affairs for the Crown Colony of Malta.
Dr. Andrew Lewis folded Tuesday’s Times and laid it beside his breakfast plate.
“Why the sigh, Grandfather?”
“At my age, one shouldn’t read the death notices. It’s not a week into the new year, and I just saw a familiar name.”
“Someone I know?”
“Ancient history, my dear. A great beauty from the time just after Waterloo.” Dr. Lewis chuckled. “One should be grateful not to find one’s name on the page.”
Mrs. Ogilvie entered the dining room with a fresh pot of tea and a note for Julia.
“A footman is waiting for a reply.”
Julia held the letter and looked around the table. “I have jam on my knife. May I borrow yours?”
“Allow me.” Dr. Lewis slit the black-bordered envelope with a clean blade and handed it back.
“From Lady Styles,” Julia said. “She asks if she and Mrs. Frederick Locock could come in tomorrow morning for consultations.”
“My, my. Early in the new year, and you’re attracting the carriage trade. Things are starting well, my dear.”
Julia smiled wryly. “No need to consult my diary to see if I’m free. Willie Oakes is coming in today and—”
“The young chap who lives at number twenty-six?”
“Yes. A sprained wrist and time for the splint to come off. But my appointment book is blank for tomorrow.”
The housekeeper brought in a pen, paper, and an envelope; Julia scratched out a reply.
“Mrs. Frederick Locock …” Dr. Lewis mused. “Sir Charles’s daughter-in-law?”
“Yes.” Julia signed with a flourish. “So, I must be on my mettle.” Julia sealed up the note and handed it to Mrs. Ogilvie. “For the footman.”
Dr. Lewis reached across the table and squeezed Julia’s hand. “Things are looking up, my dear.”
“Lady Styles also writes that she has something to tell me … Let me see.” Julia scanned the letter. “‘Information to impart about my inquiry,’ she says.”
“Your inquiry?”
Julia smiled. “A small matter the inspector may have overlooked.”