In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

I turned at the sound of a tap on my door and Alice the maid came in. Her eyes were red with crying.

“Oh miss, you're up and dressed,” she said. “Miss Clara sent me up to see if you were all right or you needed anything.”

“I'm feeling better, thank you, Alice.”

“Oh, that is good news, miss. The dear knows we need some good news around here. You've heard about the mistress, have you?”

“Yes. I've already spoken with Senator Flynn.”

“Isn't it awful, miss? She was such a sweet lady. Adèle is beside herself. She came in with a jug of hot water, the way she always did, because Mrs. Flynn was an early riser, and there she was sprawled half out of the bed. Adèle went to lift her back into bed and she was cold.” Alice put her hand to her mouth and turned away.

“It must have been a terrible shock for all of you,” I said. “I'm quite upset myself and I had only known her for just over a week.”

“I don't know what will happen now,” Alice said. “The Senator is ranting and raving about the house being cursed and that he’s going to sell up and take the child away from all this.”

“Poor little thing,” I said. “Now she'll grow up with no mother.”

Alice sniffed. “It’s not as if she'll want for anything. That child has always had the best that money can buy. And the Senator dotes on her. I think the two of them will get along just fine.”

She went over to my bedside table. “Oh, you didn't drink your beef tea, miss. They had it made specially for you to build you up.”

“No, I didn't feel like beef tea last night,” I said.

“It would have done you good. There’s nothing more nourishing than beef tea.” She went to pick up the cup. “I'll take it away for you then, shall I?”

I realized that she would be destroying the evidence. “Oh no, don't bother. Ill bring it down myself. I'm just coming.”

“No trouble, miss.”

“I'd rather you took the chamber pot away first,” I said.

“As you wish, miss.” She picked up my chamber pot and nodded with satisfaction. “And a night without sickness too. That is good.”

“Alice?” I asked as she was about to leave the room with the chamber pot.

“Yes, miss?” She turned back.

“Who gave you the beef tea to bring up to me?”

“Gave me, miss? It was on a tray in the kitchen and Cook said, That’s to go up to Miss Gaffney when you've a minute.”

“So you brought it up to me?”

“Well, miss, I was running an errand for Miss Clara and you know how she hates to be kept waiting, so I put it down on the table in the front hall for a minute or two.”

“And was anybody else in the front hall at the time?”

“Just Mr. Soames. He ticked me off for leaving the tray there. Will that be all then, miss?”

“Yes, thank you, Alice. You've been most kind.”

I sank onto my bed, my heart racing. I had never considered Soames before. He had always seemed like the perfect English butler, impeccable, invisible. I remembered mentioning that they had kept him on after the kidnapping when they had sacked all the other servants, and his haughty reply, “Maybe that was because I'm not like an ordinary servant.”

A butler would have had the perfect opportunity to carry out any of the crimes—apart from pushing Margie McAlister off the cliff, maybe. But I remembered that overheard conversation with the man’s voice asking, “What the devil do you think you're doing here?” and telling the other person that he or she had been paid off well. What if the voice I had heard was the butler’s—if he was the one being blackmailed and he found a way to silence Miss McAlister? I tried to remember whether the voice I had heard spoke with an English accent. Soames had caught me snooping on a couple of occasions. I tried to remember the details. Once I had been opening the door to Barney’s study, once to the seance room. What possibly could I have seen in either place that represented a danger to Soames?

Then I thought of something. Maybe he had caught a glimpse of the letter I had written to Daniel and he knew I was in touch with the police. I didn't think that was likely because I had kept the letter between the pages of a book until I posted it, but he could have an accomplice at the post office. I wished Daniel had not gone away again last night. I wanted him here right now. He should know about Theresa immediately and he would also be in a position to check into Mr. Soames’s background. And to be honest, I would have liked someone around to protect me. It’s not an easy feeling, knowing that someone wanted me dead. But Daniel had promised to come back for me, hadn't he? I just hoped I would still be alive.