Anything But Civil (21 page)

“Do you mind?” I said, holding up my notebook and sitting unobtrusively in the corner.

“Yes, I mind,” Rachel Baines said. I had addressed my question to Officer Corbett, as Sir Arthur had insisted I take detailed notes at this “interrogation,” as he called it.

“I don’t see why I have to answer any questions from you,” she said, indicating the policeman with her chin, “or be recorded in that notebook by that girl,” Rachel Baines added, indicating me with a wave of her hand.

“Rachel, a man is dead,” her husband said. “The police are merely trying to find out who did it.”

“But why question me? I didn’t kill him!” she said.

“But you were acquainted with the deceased,” the policeman said.

“What do you mean by that?” Rachel Baines demanded.

“Simply that you knew Henry Starrett, ma’am,” Officer Corbett said.

“Well, yes,” she conceded. “I met Captain Starrett the other night at Mrs. Reynard’s dinner party.”

She lied again,
I thought.
And Mr. Corbett ought to know. But should I tell him?

Officer Corbett took out his notebook. “And you, Mr. Baines, did you know Henry Starrett?”

“Like my wife, I met the man for the first time the other day,” John Baines said. “Of course, we interacted several times over the past few days, but that’s all.”

“And Lieutenant and Mrs. Triggs? Did either of you know the deceased previously to arriving in Galena?”

“No,” Morgan Triggs said for both of them. I hadn’t seen much of Mrs. Triggs lately and she was as cheerless as ever. She held her hands in her lap and stared down at them, never once lifting her face to meet anyone’s eyes. Not even mine when I greeted her. To me, she had always shown at least a modicum of pleasure. I’d witnessed her recovery from her melancholy and after the joy I’d seen radiate from her at the Christmas entertainment I’d thought her gloom behind her. I was wrong.

What had happened to distress her so?
I wondered.
Surely not Captain Starrett’s death?

“Thank you. Now I have a few routine questions for all of you,” Officer Corbett said. “Could you each tell me where you were between six and seven this morning?”

“No, I will not,” Rachel Baines said. “That implies that I’m a suspect and I will not abide such a baseless accusation.”

“I’d have to agree with my wife, Officer,” John Baines said. “If we are not suspects, why do you have to know our whereabouts?”

“It’s routine, Mr. Baines,” Officer Corbett said. “But you are not obligated to tell me, of course.”

“Then I’m not telling you anything,” Rachel Baines said. “But you tell me this, have you discovered who poisoned us?”

“We are looking into the matter, ma’am,” Officer Corbett said.

“My husband and I were in our rooms here, Mr. Corbett,” Priscilla Triggs said, the first words she had uttered all morning.

“Yes, yes, that’s right,” Lieutenant Triggs said, looking at his wife in surprise. I couldn’t tell if it was because she had actually spoken or because of what she’d said.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Officer Corbett said. “I have only one more question. Did any of you see Sir Arthur’s Remington ‘Army’ Model revolver, either in the display case with the other weapons or anywhere else?”

“Sir Arthur’s revolver?” Rachel Baines cried. “Are you saying Sir Arthur did this? If so, you’re completely off track.”

“I’d have to agree, Officer,” Morgan Triggs said. “Sir Arthur didn’t dislike the fellow enough to want Henry Starrett dead, but I’m sure others did. That ‘copperhead’ fellow for one. Seems their hatred for each other goes back to the war.”

“Enoch Jamison,” Officer Corbett said, glancing at me. “Yes, we will be talking with Mr. Jamison too. No, I’m afraid we believe that Sir Arthur’s gun, which he claims has gone missing, may be the murder weapon.”

“Well, if he claims it’s missing, it’s missing,” John Baines said.

“Then I will ask again,” Officer Corbett said, “have any of you seen it?”

“I don’t think I like what you’re implying,” John said. “Are you saying that one of us took the gun? Are we suspects again?” Rachel Baines stood up abruptly.

“I won’t stay here another minute being interrogated like this,” she said. “Come on, John.” Her husband stood, and without another word the couple left the room.

The policeman seemed unperturbed by the Baineses’ abrupt departure. He turned to the only other couple in the room. “Lieutenant Triggs, Mrs. Triggs, have either of you any knowledge of this gun?”

“I can honestly say I have no idea where Sir Arthur’s revolver is, Officer,” Lieutenant Triggs said. Priscilla wrung her hands in her lap and stared out the window.

“This is all so dreadful,” she said with a hollowness in her voice that sent shivers up my back. Her husband took her hands in his. “So, so dreadful.” And then she would say no more.

“H
attie!” Ida cried as the door flew open.

I had returned from luncheon with Walter a few hours ago and was finishing typing the few manuscript pages Sir Arthur had dictated to me last night. She startled me so that I typed an
x
for a
c
.

“Oh, Ida, now I’ll have to start over with this page,” I said, pulling it out of the typewriter and crumbling it up in frustration.

“But
die Polizei,
they are taking
him
away,
ja?
” I could barely understand the maid, who, from her lack of breath, must have run up both flights of stairs. “And it’s all my fault!”

“The police are taking who away, Ida?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Him!
Komm mit!
Come, come, you must come,” she said, grabbing my arm and attempting to physically pull me from my chair. I stood of my own accord, straightened the pages I’d been working on, and followed Ida downstairs. We were in time to see Officer Corbett and two other policeman escorting Sir Arthur out the front door.

“Oh,
Gott,
oh,
Gott,
oh,
Gott,
” Ida said hysterically from behind me.

“Sir?” I said, noticing out of the corner of my eye that Ida ran crying back to the kitchen.

“Oh, Hattie, good,” Sir Arthur said as if I’d brought him his morning papers. “I’m going to need your help, I’m afraid.”

“Of course,” I said, looking at Officer Corbett for an explanation that was not forthcoming. The man wouldn’t even look at me. “Anything to be of service, sir.” I regretted the words before I finished saying them. I knew what Sir Arthur wanted me to do. I wanted to turn around and run back upstairs. Instead, I stood there stoically waiting for my fate to be decided.

I’m a secretary,
I thought
. I don’t want to play detective again
.

“I’m going to need you to put your detective skills to work.” There it was, the request I couldn’t but desperately wanted to refuse. “They’re arresting me for Henry Starrett’s murder. My revolver’s turned up, in the river near a break in the ice where the murderer threw it from the bridge. You’re the only one I can trust to do this thoroughly. You’ve caught a killer before after all, haven’t you?” He chuckled, not noticing as the blood drained from my face. The police had arrested him for murder. How could he be so calm?

“Did you identify the gun or could it be another like it?” I asked.

“No, it’s mine,” Sir Arthur said. “Call Hedgeman, my solicitor in Chicago, but under no circumstances are you or anyone to notify Lady Philippa, at least not until after Christmas.”

Christmas?
I thought. Did he expect to spend Christmas in jail? I couldn’t let that happen.

“And, of course, explain the situation to my guests.”

“Yes, sir, of course,” I said. “And the manuscript?” A feeble question, I knew, but it was all I could think of to say to avoid the question I desperately wanted to ask:
Did you kill Henry Starrett?

“Set that aside for now, though bring me what you’ve finished,” Sir Arthur said. “I’ll expect a visit and an update from you first thing in the morning.”

“Are you ready, sir?” Officer Corbett said. Sir Arthur merely nodded and followed the other two policemen to the patrol wagon. “I’m sorry, Miss Davish,” Officer Corbett said as if he could read my mind. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“Does this mean you’ve completed your investigation and have ruled out other suspects?” I asked.

The policeman shrugged his shoulders. “He’s the best suspect we’ve got. It was his gun after all.”

“Which could’ve been used by a number of people,” I said. “Sir Arthur said it’d been stolen. Did you have an opportunity to talk to Mr. Jamison or Mr. Killian? Did you find Mr. Mott?”

“No. I haven’t been able to locate Mr. Mott, and of the other two, neither was available. As you know, Oscar Killian closed his store and supposedly left to visit relatives. I spoke with Mrs. Jamison, Enoch’s mother, briefly. Mr. Jamison wasn’t there. She wouldn’t tell us if he’d left town or not.” Officer Corbett looked down at his hands, strangely empty of his ubiquitous notebook. “But tell me, if not Sir Arthur, who of those others had access to Sir Arthur’s gun?”

“Any one of them. Two of them weren’t at the entertainment. They could’ve come into the house and stolen the gun while everyone was out.”

“But would they’ve even known about Sir Arthur’s gun?”

“Sir Arthur is an avid gun collector, Mr. Corbett. It’s general knowledge that he’s acquired guns for his collection since arriving in Galena.”

“I’m sorry. We have our suspect.”

“What if I do as Sir Arthur asks and investigate this myself? What would you say?”

“I’d say good luck to you, Miss Davish.” I looked at him, trying to determine if he was mocking me or was genuinely wishing me well, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Instead he nodded and put his policeman’s cap on his head. “Good day, Miss Davish.”

Officer Corbett walked out to the street, pausing to pat the horse between the ears before climbing into the patrol wagon next to the driver. Corbett said something I couldn’t hear, and then the wagon slowly drove away. I couldn’t see Sir Arthur in the back of the wagon or the other two policemen. Before the wagon was out of sight, I’d begun formulating a plan. I’d find and confront Enoch Jamison first.

“For goodness’ sake, girl, close the door. It’s cold outside.” I turned to see Rachel Baines coming down the stairs. “What’s wrong with you?” I had no idea how long I’d been standing in the open doorway. I quickly shut the door.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Baines,” I said, trying to get by her and back to my room with minimal conversation. I needed to type up the list of suspects I had forming in my head.

“Why did you have the door open?” she said, peering into the front parlor. “And where is everyone?”

“You are the first to come down for tea, ma’am, except for Sir Arthur,” I said. As I started to run up the stairs, I added, “And Sir Arthur’s been arrested and is on his way to jail.” I traded seeing the look on Mrs. Baines’s face for the few minutes it bought me and ran back to my room.

The list of all possible suspects I developed was impressively long. Henry Starrett, despite his outward popularity, was not a man without enemies. To shorten the list or at least help the investigation become manageable, I included motives, alibis, whether he or she had access to Sir Arthur’s gun, and then attempted to reorder my list from the most likely suspect to the least likely. Along with Enoch Jamison’s, Sir Arthur’s name rose to the top. I decided I needed a more objective point of view. I pulled the list from the typewriter, tucking it into my coat pocket. I pinned on my straw hat with the ostrich feathers, retrieved my gloves from the satin-lined celluloid box Mrs. Madeleine Kennedy gave me for Christmas last year, and bounded down the back stairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Monday was tying ribbons around the roll sandwiches as I came in.

“Terrible thing, that,” she said. “You’ve heard, of course.”

“Yes,” I said. She had no idea how terrible. Not only had Sir Arthur been arrested for Henry Starrett’s murder, but he now relied upon me to prove his innocence. And determined to have him free by Christmas, I had two days to do it. “Unfortunately we’ve been saying that a great deal lately,” I said. It’s the same thing Mrs. Monday had said when she heard about Henry Starrett’s murder.

“And poor Ida thinks it’s all her fault.” Ida had said something to that effect when she came to my room this morning.

“Why would that be?” I asked.

“Because Ida dusts inside all the cabinets every other Wednesday. She was so excited about the entertainment that she thinks she forgot to lock the gun cabinet after she dusted. She didn’t have the nerve to tell anyone but me.”

“So all it would’ve taken is for someone to break in to the house and walk away with a loaded gun.” Sir Arthur kept a bare minimum supply of accompanying bullets for his gun collection. He prized the guns. The ammunition was a side thought, in the rare case he wanted to fire one. With the guns locked up, Sir Arthur never thought to restrict access to the bullets. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“They wouldn’t have had to break in either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hattie, Ida wasn’t the only one distracted last night. I feel awful about it. I didn’t think any harm would come of it.”

“What are you saying, Mrs. Monday?”

She hung her head. “I left the kitchen door unlocked too.” Mrs. Monday started to cry. “Ida and I have done a terrible thing. In a way, we killed Henry Starrett.” I wrapped my arms around her as she sobbed into my shoulder.

“You are not to blame for Henry Starrett’s murder, Mrs. Monday, either of you,” I said. “And I see a positive side to what you did.”

“What could that possibly be?” Mrs. Monday stepped back and wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron.

“Because it shows that anyone could’ve come in the door and taken the gun. Not solely Sir Arthur, as the police suppose, but anyone.” It was a frightening thought, but I focused on what it meant for Sir Arthur. “The police will have to consider other suspects.”

And it was up to me to give them viable alternative suspects. I knew exactly where to start.

 

“I thought it might be you,” Walter said as he crossed the lobby of the DeSoto House Hotel. I’d requested the registration clerk to call up to Walter’s room. “They simply said a young lady wanted to see me.” He took my gloved hand and raised it to his lips. “Don’t mistake me, but didn’t we agree you needed a restful afternoon and evening at home?” He took one look at my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Walter, I need your help,” I said. He frowned and indicated a settee set against the wall. We walked over to it in silence and sat down.

“What is it, Hattie?”

“Sir Arthur has been arrested for Captain Starrett’s murder.” Walter whistled and for a moment leaned his head back against the wall. Then he perked his head back up and took my hand.

“How can I help, Hattie?”

“Sir Arthur has had me put aside our work together and investigate the murder myself,” I said.

“Like you did in Eureka Springs,” Walter said. I nodded. “But you don’t want to, do you?” I had obviously failed to keep the dismay out of my voice.

“No, I don’t.”

“But you aren’t in a position to deny Sir Arthur this either, are you?”

“No,” I said.

“Then what can I do to help?” I was relieved Walter understood how much I relied on Sir Arthur’s good graces and couldn’t say no regardless of how much I wanted to. I pulled out my list of suspects.

“I’ve tried to order these in an objective manner, from most likely to least likely, but as you can see . . .” I pointed to Sir Arthur’s name at the top. “This won’t do.”

“No, it won’t.” He hesitated slightly. “Unless of course he did kill Henry Starrett.” We both sat in silence, mulling over the possibility and what it would mean.

“No, Sir Arthur wouldn’t do such a thing. He might kill a man, but I think he would do it publicly, in a duel, not at the break of dawn with no witnesses.”

“You say that so matter-of-factly,” Walter said. I shrugged my shoulders. I’d worked with Sir Arthur on and off for a long time. Until recently, I would’ve said I knew Sir Arthur well.

“We should still consider him, though,” I said, “to be thorough.”

“Is that why Mrs. Baines is on your list, a love affair gone awry?” I nodded. “Well, I’d put her at the bottom of your list.”

“Why?” I asked. “It’s unlikely, I know, but not impossible. After all, a woman left her footprints in the snow.”

“I know, but she couldn’t have inflicted the bruises the captain sustained.”

“But she could’ve shot him,” I said haltingly. It was the first time the thought had occurred to me. “Do you realize what we’re saying, Walter?” I said.

“That one person could’ve beaten the man and a different person could’ve shot him?” Walter said. “Yes, we need to consider the possibility that two people were involved.”

I looked at my long list of suspects, mentally rearranging the order of names in two separate categories.
This could change everything,
I thought adding a few more names to the list.