The Sins of the Wolf - Anne Perry [38]
Rathbone spoke very quietly.
“Then I am afraid I can think of no explanation other than malice, and why anyone should do such a thing, I cannot imagine.”
“But I was only there less than a day,” Hester protested. “I did nothing that could possibly offend anyone!”
“You had better go and get this piece of jewelry and bring it to me immediately. I shall write to Mrs. Farraline’s estate and inform them of its discovery, and that we shall return it as soon as possible. Please do not waste any time. I do not believe we can afford to wait.”
Hester rose to her feet. “I don’t understand,” she said helplessly. “It seems so pointless.”
Rathbone rose also, coming around to open the door for her. He glanced at Monk, then back at Hester.
“Probably it is some family quarrel we know nothing of, or even some malice directed at Mrs. Farraline which has tragically gone astray with her death. It hardly matters at the moment. Your part is to bring it to me, and I shall give you a receipt for it and deal with the matter as regards Mrs. Farraline’s executors.”
Still she hesitated, confusion welling in her mind, remembering their faces: Mary, Oonagh, Alastair at the dinner table, the beautiful Eilish, Baird and Quinlan who so obviously disliked each other, Kenneth hurrying to his appointment, absentminded Deirdra, the man whose portrait hung in the hall, and drunken, rambling Uncle Hector.
“Come,” Monk said sharply, pulling abruptly at her elbow. “There is no time to waste, and certainly none to stand here trying to solve a problem for which we have no information.”
“Yes—yes, I’m coming,” she agreed, still uncertain. She turned to Rathbone. “Thank you.”
They rode back to Callandra’s house in silence, Monk apparently lost in thought, and Hester still wrestling with her memories of Edinburgh and searching for any reason at all why someone should have played such a pointless and malicious trick on her. Or was it on Mary? Or the lady’s maid? Was that it? Yes, that must be it. One of the maids was jealous, and trying to get her into trouble, perhaps even usurp her position, without actually stealing the brooch.
She was about to say this to Monk when the cab pulled up and they alighted, and the thought was lost in action.
However, the butler who opened Callandra’s door was pale-faced and totally unsmiling, and he led the way hastily, closing the door with a snap.
“What is it?” Monk demanded immediately.
“I am afraid, sir, that there are two persons from the police in the withdrawing room,” the butler replied grimly, his expression conveying both his distaste and his apprehension. “Her ladyship is speaking with them now.”
Monk strode past him across the floor and threw open the withdrawing room door. Hester followed after him, calmer and cold now that the moment had come.
Inside the room Callandra was standing in the center of the floor and she turned around as soon as she heard the door. Beside her were two men, one small and stocky with a blunt face and wide eyes, the other taller, leaner and foxy looking. If they knew Monk they gave no sign of it.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the shorter one said politely, but his eyes did not widen in the slightest.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Sergeant Daly, Metropolitan Police. You must be Miss Latterly, am I right?”
Hester swallowed. “Yes….” Suddenly her voice would not stay level. “What is it you wish? Is it regarding the death of Mrs. Farraline?”
“No, miss, not at present.” He came forward, polite and very formal. His taller companion was apparently junior. “Miss Latterly, I have authority to search your baggage, and your person if necessary, for a piece of jewelry belonging to the late Mrs. Mary Farraline, which, according to her daughter, is missing from her luggage. Perhaps you can save us the necessity for anything so unpleasant by telling us if you have such a piece?”
“Yes she has,” Monk said icily. “She has already