Chapter 11 #2
Barnaby clarified, “So in and of itself, the money Moran had accumulated might have given rise to a motive for his murder.”
“And,” Penelope put in, “Moran’s involvement in some specific risky scheme might also have generated a quite separate and distinct motive.”
Stokes softly groaned.
They sat and contemplated the situation as they now understood it, then Penelope shook free of the mental mire and, looking across the desk at Montague, asked, “Have you had a chance to examine the financial affairs of the various family members?”
“My people have started on that,” Montague replied, “and I’ve contacted Roscoe to see if he has anything pertinent to add.
Thus far, however, the brothers—specifically the household of Mr. Frederick Fitzhugh and, separately, Mr. Christopher Fitzhugh—seem to be free of any financial wrongdoing.
However, both seem distinctly strapped for cash.
How deeply in difficulties each gentleman is, we’re not yet sure, but if either have got into the hands of the cent-per-cents, I will shortly know. ”
Thomas added, “I’ve undertaken to look into the two brothers-in-law—Mitchelmore and Southerly.
I seriously doubt Southerly is in any way underwater—he’s a cautious, careful, and sensible fellow.
I’m waiting to hear back about Mitchelmore.
However, given that I am still waiting, there might be something relevant there. ”
“As for the junior members,” Montague said, “the four on the town are all, to some degree, in difficulties, but from what I’ve seen thus far, none are sufficiently deeply in debt to provide any motive for killing the earl.
Indeed, none are outside the range of incidental debt one would expect for gentlemen of their age and station. ”
Stokes looked questioningly at Penelope.
In response, she stated, “All your findings regarding the family—Frederick, Christopher, the nephews, and the Moran household—match the observations of my usual ton sources.” Montague and Thomas knew who her “usual ton sources” were.
Penelope went on, “Collectively, the ladies reported that the Moran family, including its various branches, showed telltale signs of straitened circumstances, yet at the same time, there’s no evidence to suggest that the Moran estate, meaning the earldom as a whole, isn’t as wealthy as the ton have always taken it to be.
” She held up her hands. “Viewed through a social lens, there appears to be an inexplicable contradiction.”
“I can understand that,” Montague said. “The earldom is, indeed, very wealthy, yet most of the family appear to be living on penury’s impoverished edge.”
“Exactly!” Penelope nodded. “It’s all good-quality cloth but slightly frayed at the edges.”
Stokes, busily jotting, was frowning. He paused, reread his notes, then stated, “In short, there is something odd in Moran’s finances arising from secretive investments, but as yet, we cannot say if that situation has given rise to a motive for murder, although it’s possible that’s the case.
” He tapped his notebook. “In addition, we’ve established that both the late earl’s brothers and possibly one of his brothers-in-law are under some degree of financial strain but, again, cannot yet say if that is sufficient to give rise to a motive for the earl’s murder.
And last but not least, we’ve confirmed that the late earl was very tightfisted regarding funds for his household and all family members.
” Stokes shut his notebook and looked at the others.
“As I see things, on the financial front, we need to wait for incoming information to make any further deductions.”
Montague and Thomas nodded.
Montague offered, “We might have something for you later today.” He glanced at Thomas. “Both Thomas and I have men working on learning more.”
“Good. Thank you.” Stokes tucked away his notebook and smiled. “Scotland Yard appreciates your help, as I’m sure you know.”
Thomas grinned back. “We just like solving financial riddles.”
Penelope picked up her reticule. “Come to dinner tonight and bring Griselda, Violet, and Rose, and the children, too, if you wish, along with whatever you’ve learned by that time. Shall we say six?”
Barnaby uncrossed his legs and glanced at Stokes. “We’re under pressure to solve this case rapidly, so any advance shared, however small, might get us further faster.”
Stokes inclined his head. “True.”
Montague and Thomas agreed.
Still regarding Stokes, Barnaby asked, “So what now for us?”
Frowning, Penelope said, “I think we should turn our minds to who moved the box of cigars.” She looked at Barnaby and Stokes.
“If we discount the Moran House staff, then the only ones in the house over the time the box was moved from the study to Frederick’s old room were Christopher, Victoria, and the dowager. ”
“Well,” Barnaby said, “the dowager is out, unless she instructed the staff.”
“And,” Penelope pointed out, “if it’s true that Frederick was the dowager’s favorite, why would she choose to place the incriminating evidence, from packet of poison to box of cigars, in his old room?”
Barnaby inclined his head. “Indeed. And given what your usual sources said about Christopher and Victoria being in league over something, it seems more likely it was one of them who moved the cigars.”
Stokes grimaced. “What the facts seem to be indicating is that we likely have at least two different would-be murderers—the one who actually committed the deed and the one who poisoned the whiskey and cigars—and it seems possible that Christopher, Victoria, or both acting together might be responsible for the poison.”
“We’ve always tacitly accepted,” Barnaby said, “that whoever put the poison in the decanter and so carefully laced the cigars was almost certainly someone in the household.”
“Someone not the staff,” Penelope added.
Stokes grunted and pushed to his feet. “The pressure is on. We need results. Solid results.” He nodded to Montague and Thomas as the others all got to their feet.
“Let’s leave these gentlemen to further pursue their financial trails—which might well reveal the motive for who actually murdered the earl—and see if we can resolve the question of who the poisoner is. ”
Barnaby nodded a farewell to Montague and Thomas, then waved Stokes and Penelope to the door. “Joseph, Chifley’s assistant, seemed very sure he would be able to identify the man who bought the poison.” He caught Stokes’s gaze. “Can we arrange for Joseph to get a decent look at Christopher?”
Grimly, Stokes smiled. “Let’s see what we can do.”
More than an hour later, Barnaby stood in the shadowy nook to the right of the double doors giving onto the foyer of the main building of Scotland Yard.
Opposite, against the foyer’s rear wall, Penelope stood alongside an innocuous-looking door to the left of the reception counter. She shifted impatiently, and inwardly, Barnaby grinned. He, too, was counting the minutes but, as usual, hid that rather better than his wife.
Getting everyone in position had taken time and not a little organization. It had been a bare two minutes to three o’clock before all was as they needed it to be. At that moment, the large clock on the wall behind the reception counter showed the time as one minute to three o’clock.
Given the rank of their primary suspect, Barnaby had suggested ways to make their findings watertight, and Penelope had further expounded on his notions, the upshot being that their panel of possible poison-buyers who shared a strong resemblance to Frederick Fitzhugh had expanded to five.
Consequently, summoned by a note from Stokes, countersigned by Barnaby and delivered by Sergeant O’Donnell, the first prospects to arrive had been Byron and Hugh Mitchelmore.
The pair had walked breezily in at ten minutes to three o’clock and were now standing, somewhat nonplussed, by the foyer wall, a little way from and to the right of the reception counter, with O’Donnell in close attendance.
Subsequently, at five minutes to the hour, summoned by a similar note delivered by Constable Morgan, William and George Fitzhugh had strolled into the foyer.
Although curious over finding their cousins also present, the Fitzhugh gentlemen had obediently followed Morgan’s directive and taken up a position mirroring that of their cousins, beside the wall to the left of the counter.
Constable Walsh had been sent to fetch Christopher Fitzhugh, with orders to arrive at the Yard at precisely three o’clock.
When the city’s bells tolled and the clock behind the reception counter ticked past the hour, Barnaby sensed mounting tension in all those who knew what was coming.
At two minutes past the hour, the double doors were pushed inward, and Christopher Fitzhugh strode in, his expression telegraphing that he was annoyed, impatient, and ready to be belligerent.
Coming through the doors behind Christopher, Constable Walsh encouraged him to walk toward the reception counter.
When Christopher, having noted his nephews and consequently adopted a blander expression, paced forward, Walsh took up a position before the double doors.
Barnaby shifted his gaze to Penelope; Christopher’s arrival was her cue.
As Christopher approached the reception counter, she rapped gently on the door beside her.
The door opened, and Stokes walked into the foyer.
He was closely followed by Joseph Greer, Chifley’s assistant.
Halting level with the counter, over his shoulder, in a low voice audible only to Penelope and the sergeant behind the counter, Stokes asked Joseph, “Is the man who bought the packet of strychnine from you on April the seventh in the foyer?”
Stokes stepped aside, giving Joseph a clear view of all the Fitzhughs in the room.
Joseph looked first at Byron and Hugh, then his gaze moved on to Christopher, and his eyes widened. “Yes!” Joseph raised a hand and pointed at Christopher. “That’s the man.”