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

calling. We heard early this morning, but no details. How are you Franny?”
    “I’m well. It was Mallow who found the body and I was next on the scene.”
    “The two people most likely to keep a cool head over a killing.”
    “Thank you, kind sir. But it’s already more of a mare’s nest than you can imagine . . .” She quickly summarized what she knew of the murder—and the threat to Tommie. When she was done, Hal wasted no time or energy on being appalled.
    “If you’re looking for agreement from a legal expert that this is no coincidence, you have it. These are connected—as I’m sure you’ve already concluded.”
    It was reassuring to have Hal agree with her on that. “Finding the connection is going to be hard. It’s not obvious.”
    “But I have faith in you, my love. Meanwhile, a piece of advice on how these things play out. There is going to have to be an arrest. It is impossible, inconceivable, that a man of such importance and wealth is murdered and someone doesn’t hang for it. And perhaps, whoever did this is aware of that. And someone—not the right one, but the most obvious—will be made to pay. Think on that.”
    “Indeed . . .” His advice sent her mind going in several different directions. But no. She had to be organized and logical. “You are a wise man, Mr. Wheaton. You really do earn your exorbitant fees.” He laughed.
    “You know, Franny, if you need my help, one call and I’ll be on the next train to Morchester.”
    “And what if I don’t need your help . . . just want you to come anyway?” Her tone was half teasing, half serious.
    “Again, the next train.”
    “I do love you,” she said.
    “I love you too,” said Hal. And they rang off.

C HAPTER 4
    F ranny gave herself a few moments to replay the conversation before rousing herself. Having done what she could, she looked in on Gwen, who was napping again, and Tommie, who was watching over her. She went back to her room to make some notes and then read her book for a bit. It was about a family called Forsyte, written by John Galsworthy, an incisive look into personal relationships and class issues. It made her think of Hal . . .
    She read for about half an hour—but the murder kept inserting itself into her mind. A Turkish blade . . . a Turkish diplomat. Was this a message? But why threaten Tommie? Frances paced in her room. There was no helping it. She had to find Mrs. Blake, the mysterious mistress of Kestrel’s Eyrie.
    Normally, in a situation like this, the lady of the house would be found in her own rooms, but if Mrs. Blake was running the household, she could be anywhere. Frances thought the butler’s pantry would be a good place to start—the de facto staff headquarters. But she didn’t have to go so far. She found Mrs. Blake in the hallway, just staring at the door of Sir Calleford’s study, the scene of the murder. She turned at the sound of Frances’s footsteps, and Frances got a good look at her for the first time, as she had seen her only briefly the night before. She was a handsomewoman, who when young had certainly been beautiful. But the strain revealed itself around her eyes.
    “Lady Frances. People have told me that their first visit to the Eyrie is something they remember for the rest of their lives. I am so sorry yours has been marred by tragedy.”
    It was a strange speech, but Mrs. Blake was in a strange position. She was the mistress of the house, but not the widow. The wife of a cousin—technically speaking, she didn’t even need to wear mourning.
    “I hope Gwen is bearing up? Her late mother was my greatest friend, and she wasn’t very strong—emotionally or physically. I know Gwen takes after her.”
    “She had a good night, and Tommie is looking after her.”
    “How fortunate for her to have such good friends. I’ve instructed the servants to get her anything she wants, and that applies to you and Miss Calvin as well. The formal meals will resume at dinner