Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [51]
“I see.” O’Day bit his lip on the ghost of a smile, self-mocking. “Unfortunately, I can account at least for McGinley’s valet, and for McGinley himself, which is irritating. I came along the corridor and saw the valet standing in the doorway talking to McGinley. He was there for at least twenty minutes. I know, because I left my own door open and I heard him. They were discussing shirtmakers. I confess, I listened with a certain interest. I admire McGinley’s linen, but I should dislike him to know it.”
Pitt could not help smiling also. He could see O’Day’s frustration quite plainly. Also, his information bore out what Lorcan had said. At least it reduced the suspects by three, and three who would not willingly protect each other.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “You have been most helpful.”
O’Day grunted and bit his lip.
Kezia was horrified when Pitt told her as they walked across the gravel drive, the damp wind in their faces. It smelled of newly turned earth, wet raked leaves and clippings from the last mowing of the grass. She swung around to face him, the fresh color fading from her cheeks, her eyes bright.
“I suppose you’re sure? You couldn’t be wrong?”
“Not about the wound, Miss Moynihan.”
“You were to begin with! You thought it was an accident then. Who suggested it wasn’t?”
“No one. When I examined it more closely, I saw that the wound could not have been caused by falling and striking the edge of the bath.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“You think murder is impossible?”
She turned away. “No, I just wish it were.”
She could not help. She had been in her bedroom at the time, alone except for her lady’s maid corning and going.
Tellman met him as he was returning to the house.
“Hennessey says he was in McGinley’s doorway talking to him about shirts,” he said tartly. “Saw O’Day in his room also. That puts them out. Wheeler seems to have been where he said. Footman and housemaid both saw him about downstairs, and he couldn’t have got back up again in time to do anything. They confirm the time he took the water up too.”
“What about the other servants?” Pitt walked beside him across the gravel and up the steps to the stone terrace.
Tellman looked resolutely ahead of him, refusing to admire the sweep of the stone balustrade or the broad facade of the house.
“Ladies’ maids were upstairs, of course. Seems there’s not one of the women can get out of their clothes by themselves.”
Pitt smiled. “If you were married, Tellman, you’d know better what is involved, and why it would be exceedingly difficult to do it oneself.”
“Shouldn’t wear clothes you can’t get in and out of,” Tellman responded.
“Is that all?” Pitt opened the door and went through it first, leaving it to swing.
Tellman caught it. “Your Gracie was up there on the landing. Says she saw Moynihan go to his room about ten past ten. Saw Wheeler go downstairs when he said he did. She was coming back with hot water at about half past ten and passed one of the maids carrying towels.”
“Which maid?”
“She didn’t know. Only saw her back. But all the maids are accounted for. None of ’em were absent from their duties. It wasn’t an outsider who killed Greville, and it wasn’t a servant.”
Pitt did not reply. It was what he had supposed—and feared. Now he could no longer put off speaking to Greville’s family. He gave Tellman instructions to continue learning all he could and check the accounts of the valets and maids against each other to see if anything further could be learned or deduced, then went upstairs to find Justine.
She was in the small sitting room which served the guest rooms of the north wing. Piers was close beside her and looked anxious. He started up as soon as Pitt entered, his face full of question.
“I am sorry to intrude,” Pitt began. “But there are certain things I need to ask you.”
“Of course.” Piers started as if to leave. “There is no need to distress Miss Baring with details. I’ll come with you.”
Pitt remained in front of the door, blocking it. “They are not medical details, Mr. Greville, they are