If the murderer came from outside The Castle, either Alison Gregory or one of the Dunhams, it was also essential to prevent Walter from barking.
Chief Cobb was suddenly formal. “Thank you for your assistance, Ms. de Sales.”
When I was at the door, he called after me: “Should any other information come to your attention, please let us know.” He sounded bland, as if I were simply Kay’s assistant, but his eyes held mine for a moment.
He knew who I was.
I knew that he knew.
Neither of us intended to say more.
I smiled. “I will certainly keep you informed.” As I stepped into the hall, Detective Sergeant Price came around the corner.
Quickly, I yanked the sunglasses from my pocket, put them on.
He walked more swiftly. When he stopped and looked down at me, I was grateful for the dark lenses that hid my eyes.
“Ms. de Sales.”
I waited.
He cleared his throat. “Ask Kay Clark to come to the library.” He lingered only an instant too long, then stepped past me.
I walked swiftly to the drawing room. “Kay, they want you in the library.”
Evelyn Hume’s face folded in a disagreeable frown. “I fail to see why we are being held here and why you and Kay have been summoned before me.” Her sense of entitlement was powerful. After all, she was Evelyn Hume.
I was conciliatory. “Obviously, Kay and I aren’t important witnesses. I never met Mr. and Mrs. Phillips and Kay had only a brief acquaintance with them. I’m sure the chief wished to speak to us first so that he can concentrate on the people who matter, the ones who knew them quite well.”
I wasn’t surprised that my pleasant statement was not reassuring to the occupants of the drawing room. Evelyn’s lips folded into a tight, hard line. Diane broke into fresh sobs. Jimmy stopped pacing and jammed his hands into the pockets of his chinos, his expression grim. Margo looked wary. Shannon moved uneasily.
Kay and I turned away and walked down the hall. As we rounded the corner, the corridor to the library lay empty. I disappeared.
I hovered near the ceiling. I didn’t expect to learn anything from Kay’s visit with the chief, but I didn’t want to miss his other interviews.
In a few quick questions, Chief Cobb made certain Kay could add nothing to the information I’d provided. “Mrs. Clark, please keep our conversation confidential as well as the murders. Nothing has been released to the news media. There are witnesses I wish to interview before the crime is publicly known.”
“I understand.” She rose, then looked at him somberly. “Did Ronald and Laverne Phillips die because of me?”
His rumbly voice was patient. “Did you advise Ronald to try blackmail?”
She shook her head, understanding his query was rhetorical. “If I hadn’t come back to Adelaide, he might not have realized Jack was murdered.” Her dark eyes mirrored her distress.
The chief lifted his bulky shoulders in a shrug. “Phillips could have contacted us. He chose another path. You came to The Castle because you suspected a crime. When we spoke at Lulu’s you admitted as much. If there had been a basis for me to investigate, I would have done so. There is an important distinction between your suspicions and Ronald Phillips’s knowledge. He knew something. It may have been nothing more than a glimpse of someone climbing the stairs to the third floor. If he had informed us, I could have taken that fact and investigated that person.”
Kay pushed back a strand of silky dark hair. “Person.” Her tone was puzzled. “You talk about a person. Last night at the séance, Laverne’s ramblings obviously referred to more than one person.”
Chief Cobb sketched a noose on his legal pad. “Phillips was an equal-opportunity blackmailer. People will pay to hide secrets, even though innocent of murder. But one of his listeners was a murderer. Phillips made a fatal error.”
As Kay left, Detective Sergeant Price stepped inside. He carried a gallon-size plastic bag zipped shut. Clearly visible was a dark metal handgun. He shut the door behind him, lofted the container in triumph. “Homegrown, Chief. There’s a chip on the lower right edge of the grip. Evelyn Hume said her father brought the gun back from the Pacific in World War Two. Army-issue Colt .45. One bullet left. What are the odds the other five will be retrieved during the autopsies?”
“I’m willing to take that bet. In the affirmative.” Cobb’s eyes gleamed. “Where was the gun kept, when was it last seen, who is responsible for it?”
Price answered in order. “Her father’s upstairs office hasn’t been changed since he died. Kind of a shrine, I guess. I checked out the desk. Huge. Mahogany. Drilling plats unrolled and open. Some drilling logs. Evelyn Hume said the gun was kept in the lower right-hand drawer. When I opened the drawer, no gun. Apparently the desk wasn’t kept locked. The old dame simply gave me a cool stare when I asked if the gun was secured. Nothing, she told me frostily, is kept under lock and key at The Castle. I suppose the implication is that only hoi polloi live in houses where they have to lock up the silver. In fact, they hardly lock up anything here. No alarm system. As for keys, they sprinkle them around like confetti. The plumber has one, ditto repair companies like air-conditioning, heating, handyman. You name it, someone has a key.”
Evelyn kept her left hand slightly extended, touching the side of a bookcase as she entered the library. She made ever so slight an adjustment and walked directly to the chair opposite the chief. She sat, lifted her head, and looked every inch an imperious grande dame. Instead of waiting for his question, she spoke, her words swift and clipped. “Last night was reprehensible, from start to finish. Laverne Phillips…”
The chief made occasional notes as she described Laverne’s exploitation of Diane’s grief, Jack’s determination to discredit her and Ronald, Shannon’s pursuit of Jack, Jack’s apparent lack of interest, Margo’s hostility to him, Jimmy’s anger with his uncle.
“I mention these facts because the murders of Ronald and Laverne indicate her claim last night that Jack was murdered may be true. I suppose it was a suspicion of murder which drew Kay Clark here. Possibly she had some communication with Jack prior to his death which suggested to her that he might have been in danger.”
The chief nodded. “Please describe the séance.”
Evelyn accurately reported on the performance in the library.
He glanced down at his notes. He quoted: “‘…bright red poppies in a field…sharp light and a magnifying glass’…Were those phrases directed at you?”
She appeared intrigued and not in the least alarmed. “I’m the only person in The Castle dependent upon a magnifying glass. I suppose the reference may be to the Willard Metcalf painting in the grand hallway outside the ballroom. A glorious burst of red poppies. Many of the best paintings in our collection are hung there. However, I see no reason why that should excite Ronald’s interest. We’ve had that painting”—her brow furrowed in thought—“for at least ten years.”
“Did you see either of the Phillipses after the gathering in the library ended?”
Her expression was sardonic. “Did I shoot them? No. Nor do I know who did. I went directly to my room and I heard nothing during the night. However, I may know one fact of interest to you. A few days after Jack died, I was coming down the upper hallway. I heard a door open. I turned and saw Ronald coming out of Jack’s room. He had no reason—or right—to be there. I asked him what he was doing in my brother’s room.” A dour smile touched her lips. “He claimed he thought he heard the dog scratching on a door and feared Walter might have been trapped inside. An odd coincidence that Walter apparently was trapped behind a door last night. However, I am sure Ronald was lying.”