In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

Twenty-seven

I looked out of my window as I heard feet on the gravel and saw the doctor arriving with the local police constable at his side and Soames leading the way. I wasn't sure how to proceed. I didn't want Theresa’s death to be ruled a suicide without voicing my suspicions, and yet suggesting her death might be murder would make Bamey the obvious suspect. And I didn't want Bamey to be the suspect, even if… I stopped that thoughtrightthere. If only Daniel were here. He'd know what to do. But I couldn't sit by and do nothing. Sitting by just wasn't in my nature.

I opened my door afewinches, watched and waited.

I could hear Barney’s voice from the hallway. “What do you mean by bringing the police into this? No crime has been committed.”

“I'm sorry, sir, but we have to investigate any case of unnatural death,” I heard the constable responding. “We have to determine it really was a suicide.”

“Really was a suicide?” Bamey was yelling now. “My poor wife killed herself while of unbalanced mind. Ask anyone in the household. They'll tell you her mental state. Ask thatridiculousalienist fellow. He’s the one you need to arrest if you want to arrest anybody. He’s the one that drove her over the edge with his probings.”

“Calm down, Mr. Flynn. I can see that you're quite distraught,” I heard the doctor’s deeper, more educated voice saying. “All of this is just a formality. Nobody is suggesting anything other than the obvious. Now, if you'll lead the way to your wife’s room?”

I watched through the crack in my door as the procession came up the stairs. Bamey led the way. I noticed also that Soames followed them as far as the doorway. If Barney was going to insist on staying in the room with the doctor and Soames was going to hang around outside the door, I'd have no chance of speaking to the doctor alone without revealing my hand to the others in the house.

Then it occurred to me that maybe thetimewasrightto reveal that hand. A police constable was within shouting distance, so I'd be quite safe. All the same, my legs were quaking as I came down the stairs, and it wasn't just from my weakness either. Order had broken down in this otherwise clockwork-running house. Servants were standing about in the hallway peering up the stairs or whispering together. Belinda and Clara, both red-eyed, were hovering about the dining room doorway, clutching each other for support. Qara was already wearing black and Belinda’sfloweryhouse robe looked garishly out of place. They looked at me as if I was a ghost coming down the stairs.

“Molly, you're up and around again. That is good news,” Clara whispered. “So you've heard of the terrible tragedy that has taken place. God rest her poor tormented soul.” She crossed herself. This house is cursed. I always said it was from the moment they moved in.”

“My condolences to both of you,” I said as I approached them. “What a terrible shock for all of us. I hardly knew her and yet I had already become fond of her. It must be far worse for you, who had known and loved her for all of your lives.”

Belinda put her handkerchief up to her mouth. “I feel so guilty. I should never have brought Dr. Bimbaum here. I truly thought he'd be able to help her. One hears such wonderful things about alienists these days, but it was obviously too much for her. It’s all my fault.”

“I don't think you should blame yourself, Belinda,” I said. “Who knows the depths of despair that she had lived with for so long?”

“Maybe hearing her son’s voice was enough to convince her she wanted to be with him again,” Clara suggested. “She so wanted to have the spiritualists here, but that might not have been such a good idea either.”

“What the devil is going on?” a large voice echoed through the stairwell. Joseph Rimes stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down at the huddle of servants. “What do you think you're doing? Where are your master and mistress? Where is Mr. Soames? Get back to your tasks immediately.”

“Pardon me, sir, but an awful thing has happened.” Soames stepped out of the alcove where he had been waiting and drew Joe Rimes aside. He muttered into Joe’s ear and we watched Joe spin around, mouth open. “Good God, man. This is terrible. Why didn't somebody wake me? Where is O'Mara? Did anybody think of waking him up?”

Joe disappeared into Theresa’s bedroom and soon afterward a bleary-eyed Desmond O'Mara appeared in a striped dressing gown. We stood below watching the drama unfold above us. My stomach reminded me with a growl that I was in serious need of nourishment. I turned to Clara.