Bedford Square - Anne Perry [8]
“I assumed it was some such duty that brought you, Inspector,” she answered, at once dismissing any possible social contact between them. This was her home. He could only have come in the course of his trade.
Ridiculously, he found himself clenching inside, as aware of an insult as if she had slapped him. And he should have expected it. After all that had passed between them, the tragedy and the guilt, what would he have presumed differently? He tried to make himself relax his body, and failed.
Balantyne was on his feet also, looking from one to the other of them, as if he, too, should apologize—to Pitt for his wife’s condescension, to her for Pitt’s presence and for another tragedy.
“Some unfortunate man was attacked and killed,” he said bluntly.
She took a deep breath, but her composure did not crack.
“Was it someone we knew?”
“No,” Balantyne said immediately. “At least …” He turned to Pitt.
“It is most unlikely.” Pitt looked at Augusta. “He appeared to have fallen on hard times and to have been involved in a fight. He was not apparently robbed.”
The tension slipped away from her.
“Then I suggest, Inspector, that you question the servants to see if they heard anything, and if they did not, then I regret we cannot assist you. Good day.” She did not move. She was dismissing him, not herself leaving.
Balantyne looked uncomfortable. He had no desire whatever to prolong the interview, but then neither did he wish to avail himself of a rescue by his wife. He had never retreated from battle. He was not about to do so now. He stood his ground painfully.
“If you would inform me when it would be convenient to go to the mortuary, I shall do so,” he said to Pitt. “In the meantime, Blisset will show you whatever you wish to see, and no doubt he will know if anything has been moved or is missing.”
“Missing?” Augusta queried.
Balantyne’s face tightened. “The man may have been a thief,” he said curtly, without explaining further.
“I suppose so.” She lifted one shoulder slightly. “It would account for his presence in the square.” She stood back into the hallway to allow Pitt to leave, and waited silently until he should pass.
The butler, Blisset, a middle-aged man of stiff-backed, military bearing, was standing at the foot of the stairs. Very probably he was an old soldier Balantyne had employed, knowing his service. Indeed, when he moved he did so with a pronounced limp, and Pitt guessed it was a battle injury which had caused it.
“If you will come with me, sir,” he said gravely, and as soon as he was sure Pitt was behind him, he went across the hallway to the baize door and through to the servants’ quarters.
Tellman was standing by the long table in the dining hall where the servants took their meals. It was laid for breakfast, but obviously no one had yet eaten. A housemaid was standing in a gray stuff dress, white apron crisp and clean, lace cap a trifle crooked on her head as if she had placed it there hastily. She was looking at Tellman with considerable dislike. A footman of about nineteen or twenty was standing by the door to the kitchen, and the bootboy was staring round-eyed at Pitt.
“Nothing so far,” Tellman said, biting his lip. He had a pencil and an open notebook in his hands, but there was very little written on the page. “Lot of very sound sleepers here.” His tone was bordering on the sarcastic.
Pitt thought that if he had to get up at five in the morning as a matter of habit, and work with little respite until nine or ten in the evening, he would probably be tired enough to sleep soundly too, but he did not bother to say so.
“I’d like to speak to the housemaids,” he said to Blisset. “May I use the housekeeper’s sitting room?”
The butler agreed reluctantly and insisted on remaining present, to protect his staff, as was his responsibility.
But two hours’ diligent enquiry and a thorough search of the