Frederick settled across from him, pulling out his notepad and bit of lead. “New questions are always arising in an investigation. I know you and your father would want me to persist until I find the person who killed your mother.”
The victim’s son merely looked bored. He made a circle in the air with his index finger. “Proceed.”
Frederick unclenched his jaw. A man should have more interest in getting justice for his mother’s killer. Unless the man were somehow involved. “I wish to go over your movements on the night of the murder again. I’ve learned that your mother intended to see you that evening.”
“I find that unlikely.” He lifted his head, trying to blow a smoke ring. It came out more an amorphous blob.
“Were you not performing at the Cogburn’s Theatre?” Frederick examined Bannister for a reaction. As he hadn’t mentioned his performance at his earlier interviews, Frederickassumed it was something he didn’t care for many people to know.
Aside from a long pause, Bannister remained unaffected. “I was. You’re not saying that Mother intended to see the burletta?”
“We learned from one of her friends that she was intending to. You didn’t know?” Frederick thought about what his mother’s reaction would be to finding her son on the stage. It most likely wouldn’t be one of approval. Unless one reached the pinnacle of fame, acting wasn’t a well-respected profession. Especially if a man was donning a gown and affecting a high falsetto.
But the upper classes were different. Bannister obviously thought of it as a bit of a lark; Lady Richford perhaps would have felt the same.
Bannister blinked rapidly. “I had no idea she knew I was in that performance, much less that she would come to see it.” He rested his pipe on his thigh.
Frederick gave him a moment, concentrating on writing down some notes. When he looked up, he asked, “Would she have been upset at your taking part in a stage performance?”
“As long as it didn’t cost her money, Mother was broad-minded. If she liked my performance, she might have even bragged to her friends about it.”
Frederick leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Why do you do it?”
“Perform?” At Frederick’s nod, Bannister shrugged. “Why not? It’s a spot of fun. It relieves the tedium. Also, the bit of blunt I get pays for drinks.”
Frederick sat back. The tedium. Never once had he thought of his life as tedious. He was too busy working, spending time with his family and friends, to sufferennui. He had an acquaintance with theton, but didn’t truly understand them. Bannister, like Lady Mary and Miss Lynton, were members ofthe leisure class. Had servants to take care of all their needs. It was difficult to imagine Edgar Bannister having the fortitude to actually pick up a cravat and do the dirty work of murder himself.
He bit back a frown. “So you didn’t see your mother that night? She didn’t go backstage?”
Bannister shook his head.
“And what time did you leave the theatre?”
That question sharpened Bannister’s gaze. “The play ended around ten. I didn’t leave the theatre until about eleven. Some of the other performers and I went to Carpenter’s after that. We didn’t leave until early in the morning.”
Frederick noted the name of the popular coffeehouse that also served spirits long after other pubs had closed. “The names of your companions?”
Bannister listed them, his face reddening. “When my father asked you to investigate, he did not intend for you to include me in said investigation. He will not be pleased when I inform him.”
Frederick arched an eyebrow. “I’m looking for the truth, not playing favorites. But as you’ve named four actors who can corroborate your location at the time of the murder, you have nothing to worry about.”
Bannister looked down at his hands. “Yes. Of course.” He shifted uneasily, and Frederick made a note to find these friends of his as soon as possible to confirm, or deny, his alibi.
He decided to change tack. “I was at your mother’s funeral yesterday. How is your father?”
Bannister huffed. “He depended upon her too much. He’s having a rough go of it, but he’ll survive.” The dismissal in his voice put Frederick’s back up. As someone who had a good relationship with his parents, the lack of respect from Bannister to his own was difficult to understand. Frederick would never be so dismissive of his mother’s or father’s pain, or their opinions.
“Miss Abbott,” Frederick said. “I noticed the dispute between you and her at your mother’s graveside. What was it concerning?”
Bannister scowled. “That has to be the most irritating woman of my acquaintance. After all the times she counseled my mother to cut off my funds, she had the nerve to approach father and me and….” His knuckles whitened around the pipe’s stem. “She wanted to express her availability should we need a consoling bosom. I told her I would rather find comfort in a porcupine.”
“And that was the extent of it?” Frederick stared at the man, unblinking. “The raised voices were all because she offered unwanted sympathy?”
“No, it was because of her impertinence.” Bannister sucked on his pipe. “She wanted to come to our house. Help us sort through Mother’s belongings. Make sure we ate and rested properly.” He glared at the ceiling. “Not only did she act as though she thought us incompetent to manage, she assumed her presence in our home would be wanted. It is not.”
“I see.” But Frederick didn’t quite. Miss Abbott’s attentions might have been irritating, but surely they were well-intentioned. One would think Bannister would have the breeding to excuse himself from conversation with her without insulting the woman. Or having the matter degrade into a public fight feet away from his mother’s coffin.
Frederick rubbed his jaw. But perhaps the improper time and place was the reason. Perhaps Bannister was more affected by his mother’s death than he let on. Grief could make tempers snap where before they’d only bent.
