Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [8]
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we will begin with whoever admitted the women when they arrived,” Pitt directed. “And go on through who waited on them through the evening until someone saw the other two leave. Did they ask after the third? What explanation was given?”
“It would be Cuttredge who let them in, sir, and Edwards who saw them out,” Tyndale answered. “I already asked Edwards, and he said he thought at the time that the last one must have been staying until morning. He’s…not very experienced.”
“That never happens?” Pitt asked.
The muscles in Tyndale’s face tightened. “No, sir, not with a woman of that class.”
Pitt did not pursue it. “Then if we could see Cuttredge first, and after him, whoever took them to…wherever they went. And any staff that waited on them later on. And I need to have her clothes, if they can be found.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Tyndale had gone Pitt considered apologizing to Narraway for countermanding his orders, then decided against it. It was a bad precedent to set. There was no room for protecting position or deferring to rank. The price of failure would descend on them all.
Tyndale returned with Cuttredge, who was a man of very average appearance but entered with a certain dignity; he answered all their questions without hesitation. He described letting the women in with only the very faintest distaste, and a military precision as to where he had taken them and at what time. He had not noticed their faces. One street woman was much like another to him. It was obviously part of his duty that he disliked, but did not dare express that.
“And you did not see them leave?” Pitt asked.
“No, sir. That would be Edwards. I was off duty by that time.”
“Where were you?” Narraway asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.
Cuttredge’s eyes widened. He glanced at Tyndale, then back again. “In bed, sir! I have to get up before six in the morning.”
“Where do you sleep?” Narraway asked.
Cuttredge drew in his breath to answer, then quite suddenly realized the import of the question and the blood drained from his skin.
“Upstairs, where the rest of the staff do. I…I never left my room.” He drew in his breath to say something further, then gulped and remained silent.
“Thank you, Mr. Cuttredge,” Pitt excused him.
Cuttredge remained seated, his hands grasping each other. “What happened? They’re saying she’s dead…one of the women. Is that true?”
Tyndale opened his mouth and then closed it again, remembering Pitt’s warning.
“Yes, it is,” Pitt answered Cuttredge. “Think carefully. Did you hear anything said, an altercation, a quarrel, perhaps an arrangement for her to see someone else after the party? Even a suggestion that she already knew someone here, or they knew her?”
“Certainly not,” Cuttredge said instantly.
Narraway hid a tight smile.
“Not necessarily professionally, Mr. Cuttredge,” Pitt pointed out.
“Had she been here before?”
Cuttredge glanced at Tyndale, who nodded permission to answer.
“No,” Cuttredge replied. “That I do know. The arrangement wasn’t made by any of us. It was…it was Mr. Dunkeld.”
“Indeed. Thank you.” Pitt excused him again, and he left.
The next man to be seen was Edwards, who had let out the two other women. He was younger, slimmer, and, in spite of the circumstances, rather confident, as if his sudden importance excited him. He said he had noticed nothing unexpected, and he did not look to Tyndale for support. He reported that both women seemed cheerful, definitely a little drunk, but not in any way afraid or alarmed. Certainly neither of them had suffered any injury. He himself had gone to bed when most of the clearing-up had been done and the main reception room at least was ready for the morning.
“Close to two o’clock, sir, or as near as I can recall,” he finished.
“And you went to bed yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you pass anywhere near the linen cupboard on your way up to your quarters?” Narraway put in.
Edwards was deeply unhappy and now consciously avoiding Tyndale’s eyes. “Yes, sir, I did. I walked along that very passage. I shouldn’t ’ave.