A Letter of Mary - Laurie R. King [45]
"I've been wondering, Inspector," I interrupted, "how did the colonel miss the fact that it was a woman who was in charge of the project? Holmes said the man was surprised at that."
"Yes, that was odd, wasn't it? I spoke with two of his friends on the committee that recommended the project, and according to them, Miss Ruskin always signed herself as D. E. Ruskin and never corrected their form of address."
I had to smile. "Her articles were all published under that name," I admitted. "She was, after all, a realist and very anxious to get her dig. I doubt that it was deliberate to begin with, but she probably knew the sort of men she was dealing with and therefore allowed them to continue in their false assumption until they were in too far to back out."
"I imagine it appealed to her sense of humour, as well," commented Holmes.
"That, too. Can't you just hear her laugh?"
"Nothing else about Colonel Edwards?" asked Mycroft.
"We're still looking at bank accounts and family connexions. The son is still away, expected back this weekend."
"And the driver?"
"The colonel's man and the man's wife are the only permanent household servants. They've been with the family for thirty years, and the man's father served the colonel's father before him."
"Any change in their account of Wednesday night?" asked Holmes.
"No, we went over it again, and he says he left the restaurant around midnight, was driven home, and went to bed."
"Did you ask him about the telephone call he made from the restaurant?" Holmes asked.
"That I did. He says he was trying to reach the friend who arranged the meeting with Miss Ruskin, but he couldn't get into contact with him. We talked to the man— name of Lawson— and he agrees that he was not at home that night."
"No way of finding where the colonel phoned, then?"
"Afraid not. All the exchange can tell us is it wasn't a trunk call."
"A London number, then."
"Must've been. If, indeed, he actually made the call. Any road, there were no notable inconsistencies between his story and his servant's, not yet anyway. I'll question them both again tomorrow."
"Does he know yet that this is a murder investigation?"
"We left it as a death under suspicious circumstances, but he's not stupid. He may have guessed it's more than routine."
"Well, it cannot be helped. What about Mrs Erica Rogers?"
"I was up there again this morning, but I can't say we have too much on her yet. The neighbours say she was at home both Wednesday and Friday, as far as they can tell. However, Miss Russell will have told you that the house is peculiarly difficult to overlook— it is near the main road, but bordered by woods on one side and a high privet hedge between it and the nearest neighbour. Her lights did go off as usual around ten-thirty, both nights, and nobody noticed any car arrive after that. She lives alone with her mother; a day nurse comes in Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. Doctor regularly, too."
"What's wrong with the old lady?"
"Just age, I think. Lots of small things, arthritis, bronchitis, heart— nothing quite big enough to carry her off. Must be a stubborn old thing. Totally useless trying to question her, by the way— hearing like a fence post and pretty near gaga to boot."
"It must be expensive, caring for an invalid. What income is there?"
"Investments by the father, for the most part— not big, but steady. He's been dead for twelve years. Two-thirds of the income goes to Mrs Rogers and her mother, one-third to Miss Ruskin."
"And the will?"
"Mrs Rogers directed us to the family solicitor, who showed me the will Miss Ruskin drew up ten years ago. It left everything to her mother and sister, aside from a few specific items, which she wanted sent to various individuals, some to the British Museum. A codicil added five years ago specified additional items, but that did not change the will itself."
"Any other family?"