Death Among Rubies by R. J. Koreto Read Free Book Online

you.”
    Mallow then showed up and helped the ladies dress, then constables came to take preliminary statements from everyone. But as the women arrived late, the questions were brief. Frances longed to ask the constables what they had discovered so far—even to speak with the inspector—but she knew they wouldn’t say anything to her. There would be time for that later.
    While Tommie tried to coax Gwen into eating, Frances pulled Mallow aside.
    “How are the servants taking this?” she asked.
    “Very upset, of course, my lady, but . . .” Frances waited while Mallow found the words. “But most of them didn’t really know him, did they?”
    Frances nodded. A wealthy and important master like Sir Calleford probably only spoke to his valet and butler. He would be a remote figure to most of the staff. The footmen who served him his dinner would know how he liked his meat and whether he took an extra helping of peas, but not much else.
    “I see the household seems to be running well this morning. The butler must be very good, and judging from the organization of the maids this morning, so must the housekeeper.”
    “But that’s a strange thing, my lady. There is no housekeeper. Mrs. Blake takes on the responsibility herself. Very odd, if I may say, my lady.”
    Odd? It was unheard of. Houses half the size of the Eyrie had a housekeeper. And seeing how well-appointed the house was, it clearly wasn’t penny-pinching on Sir Calleford’s part.
    “Did anyone offer an opinion as to why there is no housekeeper?”
    “No, my lady. I only know that there hasn’t been one since Mrs. Blake came here after Sir Calleford’s wife passed on. She’s taken on the housekeeper’s job herself and runs the house withMr. Pennington, the butler. She addressed the staff this morning, my lady, right after breakfast. Told everyone that the house was to run as normal. Meals in guests’ rooms through lunch tomorrow, but then there would be dinner as usual. She was rather . . . fierce about it, my lady.”
    “Fierce?”
    Mallow frowned. She clearly didn’t like criticizing the lady of a great house, where she was a servant and her mistress was a guest. “She said that she expected every servant to carry on as usual, my lady. And she said that any servant who couldn’t . . . well, was welcome to give notice and depart.”
    “That does sound a little cold, Mallow. But let us make allowances for the strain of the master’s death. And not just death, but murder.”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    Tommie was getting Gwen to take a little beef broth, which pleased both of them, but Frances was chafing at the inactivity.
    “Gwen, where is your telephone kept? I think I should let Mrs. Elkhorn know about the tragedy.” Winifred Elkhorn was president and founder of the League for Women’s Political Equality—their suffrage club.
    “Oh, yes . . .” she said, vaguely. “There’s a closet next to Father’s study . . .”
    “You just rest, my dear,” said Frances, and headed out. Maids and footmen were about their tasks in the household, with only the armbands as a reminder anything unusual had happened. She found the telephone closet and got the exchange to connect her with Mrs. Elkhorn in London. She hoped her friend and mentor was in.
    “Frances? Good hearing from you. I trust you, Gwen, and Tommie are working well in the Eyrie?”
    “Actually, Mrs. Elkhorn, no . . .” And she proceeded to summarize Sir Calleford’s murder.
    “My deepest sympathies to Gwen. It must be some sort of lunatic.”
    “Yes, but there’s more. Shortly before this happened, Tommie was threatened while in London and told not to come here by a stranger—a man who said horrible and revolving things about her friendship with Gwen. I can’t find a connection, but I don’t want to believe it’s a coincidence.”
    “My goodness. You have landed in it, Frances.”
    “I want to see what this is all about. Gwen and Tommie may be in danger.