The Young Widow by Cassandra Chan Read Free Book Online Page A

didn’t go as planned. Paul did acquire the company in the end, but it cost far more than he had thought, at which point Geoffrey made a terrific fuss and told him he was an idiot for buying at that price.”

    â€œI see,” said Carmichael.
    â€œHowever,” she said sharply, “if you think Paul killed him because Geoffrey criticized him, you’re wrong. My nephew may not be a brilliant businessman, but neither is he vindictive.”
    â€œNo, I’m sure he isn’t,” said Carmichael. “He and his father had no disagreements aside from business?”
    â€œNo, of course not,” she muttered, but once again Carmichael felt she was hiding something.
    â€œWell, thank you very much, Miss Wellman,” he said pleasantly, and rose to go.
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    Mary Simmons was clearly alarmed by the police. Gibbons and Bethancourt cornered her in the dining room where she was waxing the table, but all her replies to their questions were monosyllabic and her eyes flickered between them like the eyes of a mouse confronting two cats.
    â€œI understand you weren’t in the house on the day of the murder?” asked Gibbons, smiling to put her at her ease.
    â€œNo, sir,” she answered, anything but easy in her manner.
    â€œYou were at Mr. Paul’s house, is that right?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAnd what were you doing there?” asked Gibbons, deciding he had better restrict himself to questions that required more than a yes-or-no answer.
    â€œCleaning. Their charwoman is off on Wednesdays, and I give the house a thorough going-over.”
    â€œNow you arrived just as Mr. Paul was leaving, correct? And by eleven o’clock you were working downstairs in the living room?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œAnd where were Mrs. Paul and her son during that time?”
    â€œThey was upstairs in the schoolroom, sir. I could hear them playing the piano while I was cleaning.”

    She repeated this parrot-like, giving them the answer that had been got out of her by the Surrey officers in—so far as Gibbons could tell—exactly the same words, as if any alteration might damn her.
    He glanced at Bethancourt; his friend was often good with skittish female witnesses, and he was in fact wearing his most charming smile. It was a pity that Mrs. Simmons did not look up long enough to see it.
    â€œI take it Mr. Paul’s charwoman isn’t quite up to snuff?” asked Bethancourt genially. “I mean, if you have to give the house a good going-over every week, she can’t be doing a very expert job.”
    â€œShe only comes to help with the daily chores,” muttered Mrs. Simmons, her eyes fixed firmly on the table she had been waxing.
    â€œAh, I see,” said Bethancourt. “She just tidies a bit and does the washing up.”
    Mrs. Simmons nodded silently, and Bethancourt gave his friend an exasperated glance.
    Gibbons abandoned the attempt to wring fresh information out of her. It was possible that she had returned to the main house and poisoned her employer, but looking at her Gibbons had to wonder if she would have had the nerve.
    â€œWell, thank you very much, Mrs. Simmons,” he said, leading Bethancourt out.
    In the hallway they met Carmichael just coming down the stairs, and reported their progress to him.
    â€œThen that’s the household done,” said Carmichael. “Let’s find Mrs. Berowne and have a look at the study.”
    Annette was found in the writing room, which she had pointed out to them earlier. She came out quietly when they knocked and stood looking up at Carmichael as if he held the answers to all questions. Uncomfortably, he recalled his urge to come to her defense during his interview with Miss Wellman, and he avoided her eyes.
    â€œWe’d like to see the study now, Mrs. Berowne,” he said.
    She nodded. “It’s down this way,” she said.

    The study was at the far end of the