“No… well, Izzy, but Izzy quarrels with everyone, and especially with her husband. Poor Farramont! A merry dance she leads him! Olivia took Tess’s part in the business over the woodworker, but they are as close as sisters. Walter… Walter truly loved Arthur, I think. Eustace is a strange boy. He has had his differences with Arthur, but since he came into his little inheritance and moved out of the castle, they have not fallen out at all. As for the servants, I never heard of any quarrel. Arthur was always a considerate employer, not demanding or difficult. His valet had been with him for more than twenty years, so he must have been contented in his employment. Is this what you want, Captain? These trivial disagreements that occur in every family? None of these are cause for murder, I should imagine.”
“No, but it gives me a reason to ask questions… to poke and prod at people until they tell me something interesting.”
“Ah. That is exactly what you have been doing to me, is it not? Poking and prodding.”
He chuckled. “And just see how much you have given me to think about. Now I have lots of interesting little threads to tug on, and see what emerges.”
“Is it enough?”
“It is a start. Each little thread unravels something else, and so it goes on until the big secrets come out. Sooner or later I will find out who killed your husband, Lady Alice.”
Finally, Michael had material to work with, enough to keep him busy for months. But still at the back of his mind was a nagging doubt — could Lady Alice have murdered her husband? He did not want to believe it… he didnotbelieve it, not in his heart, but it remained a possibility, and until he could be sure of her innocence, sure beyond all doubt, he could not quite leave the idea behind.
Yet no matter how he tried, he could see no way to prove it.
***
Michael’s first task was to talk to Tom Shapman, the unassuming man who had mended the scullery window and changed the locks, and had failed to mention that he had wanted to marry Tess Nicholson. Tess herself was out of Michael’s reach, but he remembered her anger about the will which had left her a fortune, but only if she married a gentleman. Now he saw the reason for that anger.
Shapman was often out and about, but at the third attempt Michael found him at home, at a small workshop just off the main road through Birchall. It was a small place, with a tiny kitchen and a store room at the back, and stairs to a room above, but adequate for a single man.
“Good day to you, Mr Shapman. A neat little place you have here. Do you sleep upstairs?”
“Aye.”
“And cook here?”
“Nay. I eat at Ma and Pa’s.”
“Have you a few minutes to talk to me?”
“If you don’t mind me working while we talk,” Shapman said. “D’you need some more locks changed?”
“No. I wanted to talk about you and Miss Nicholson.”
Shapman looked up from planing a length of wood with a wry smile. “Ha! Nothing came of that.”
“So you simply gave up the idea, is that it? Or did the two of you resent Mr Nicholson for interfering?”
“Tess did,” he said, bending his head to his work again. “I always knew it was a wild idea, but you know what she’s like.”
Michael pulled forward a wooden stool and sat down. “Tell me what she is like.”
“Like all rich girls, she wants what she wants and she wants it now.”
“And what would she do to get what she wants?”
He looked up again. “Are you trying to trick me with words? Not kill her own father, that’s for sure.”
“But maybe you would, to get yourself a rich wife, eh?”
Shapman straightened himself and stared at Michael. “Me? Ha! No. Look, Tess was the one who had the idea we could wed, not me. Her father said no, and that was it, as far as I’m concerned. Never blamed him, never wanted to do anything about it. Wished she’s let it go, frankly. I’m content here, making my doors. Don’t want no rich wife, and certainly not one as slippery as Tess.”
“Is she slippery enough to plan a murder?”
“No. She’s always up to some scheme or other, but she’d not kill anyone and that’s a fact.”
“Do you know where she is?”
