Constance suspected that the sergeant was well aware of her establishment, which no one ever looked too closely at because there was never any trouble, let alone complaints. He would not disturb the status quo, but Napier was a loose cannon and would like nothing better than to pin a murder on someone associatedwith this house, preferably Solomon himself. Especially without Inspector Omand, his superior, to keep him in line.
“What time did you arrive here this morning, Mrs. Grey?” Bilston asked civilly.
“Before seven, perhaps a quarter to the hour or thereabouts. I heard voices in the garden at the back and they sounded alarmed, so I went straight round.”
“And that was the first time you saw the bodies?”
“Indeed.”
“Who else was there?” Napier asked. “You said the cook and the gardener.”
“My assistant cook, Bibby Barton. And Jeremy Carter, who looks after the garden and the outside of the house.”
“No one else from the household?”
“No. Jeremy had swept the front steps and the area and the path to the back garden. Bibby had just come out the back door to speak to him when they saw the bodies.”
“How did she get out the back door with the body leaning against it?” Napier demanded.
“It was leaning against the wall then. The first constable who came tried to wake him up and the body toppled into the position you see him in now.”
“We’ll need to speak to these two first,” Napier said. “Send for them. Then we’ll see the rest. You can go for now.”
Constance regarded him in silence. The sergeant looked nervous, no doubt because of the blatant incivility, but criminal investigations of this sort were clearly outside his experience.
“Constable, I am prepared to accompany you downstairs to the cook’s sitting room, where you may interview my people in my presence.”
“Oh, no,” Napier said rudely. His back was to the door, so he did not see Solomon come quietly into the room. Constance’sheart lifted immeasurably. “I want the truth and I won’t get it with your threatening them behind my back.”
“Good morning,” Solomon said, strolling across to Constance.
Bilston sprang to his feet and so did Napier, though with surprise rather than respect.
“Solomon,” Constance said, throwing out her hand to him. “I’m so glad you’re here. Something dreadful has happened.”
“I know,” he said, taking her hand, although his eyes were hard and cold as slate as they focused on Napier. “Max told me. Constable, my wife will have your written apology by tomorrow morning. As it is, you will treat everyone in this house with respect or I will demand a different investigator. And we’ll get one.”
Napier flushed with anger. He must have known he was in the wrong, understood Solomon would get his way, and this infuriated him. He regarded Solomon as somehow inferior simply because of the color of his skin, regardless of his education, his wealth, and his worldly success. It seemed to madden him that important men, including his superiors, treated this “foreigner” with respect. But then, Napier’s world was very black and white in every way.
“I am investigating murder!” he snapped. “And no one will stand in my way. Your obstruction smacks of guilt.”
“Constable!” wailed the sergeant.
“On the contrary,” Solomon said. “It smacks of common decency.”
“Decency!” Napier exploded. “Inthisplace?”
“Precisely,” Solomon said coolly. “Need I have you escorted from the house?”
“Wind your neck in, constable,” Bilston growled. “I’m Sergeant Bilston, sir, from Bow Street. We would be grateful for the co-operation of yourself and Mrs. Grey.”
“Then, as my wife suggested some time ago, we shall accompany you downstairs and borrow Cook’s sitting room, if she is willing.” Solomon offered his arm to Constance.
Seething, Napier had no choice but to follow them, especially when the sergeant did.
Below stairs was unnaturally subdued, despite the delicious smells of breakfast, cooked largely by Bibby.
“Mrs. Cate, do you mind if we use your sitting room for a while?” Constance asked. She wondered if the courtesy would rub off on Napier but doubted it.
