The thought that LaFontaine’s account seemedto point suspicion towards one of the distinguished guests wasdisquieting, to say the least. He hoped Cobb would be able to comeup with a viable suspect or two downstairs. Meanwhile, he needed tothink about Tremblay. The fellow had had opportunity and means tosteal the laudanum and present Chilton with the poisoned sherrysometime before midnight. And he also had a motive: to bring thenegotiations he feared to a grinding halt.
There was still the puzzling business of theledger and the three pages ripped out and missing. Did Tremblaypossibly conclude that the newly arrived Chilton was a spy for theEnglish Tories or the Governor? Did he rip out and destroysomething on those pages that he thought might be exposed,something that would jeopardize his standing back home, where hehad ambitious plans to run for parliament?
Marc stopped thinking. At some point itbecame counter-productive. He would wait for Cobb, who couldnavigate nimbly among the wiles and dodges of theservant-class.
***
Cobb knew that if you wished to find the servant whowould know just about everything that was going on below the salt,so to speak, and was the de facto governor of the house, yousought out the cook. That was his thought as he descended the foursteps towards the kitchen of Elmgrove. But when he entered it, hewas disappointed, and surprised, to find the big L-shaped roomoccupied by a single soul — a painfully thin, plain young woman.She was standing beside a hefty wooden table, like a butcher’sblock, slicing thick pieces of cold ham and licking her fingerswhenever the opportunity arose. At Cobb’s entrance she jumpedbackwards and dropped her knife. Her large eyes were filled withfear, and her shrivelled chin quivered.
“We ain’t done nothin’ wrong down here,constable!” she cried in a spare, high-pitched voice.
“I’m sure you haven’t, miss,” Cobb said,smiling. He had left his helmet upstairs and with his coatunbuttoned and his tie askew, he felt he would be presenting acasual, even friendly, face to those he planned to grill. “I justneed to talk to you an’ yer fellow servants about last night. Infact, I was hopin’ to start with Mrs. Blodgett.”
“Well, I ain’t her, constable. I’m Hetty, oneof her helpers,” Hetty Janes said, keeping the table between herand Cobb.
“Glad ta meet ya, Hetty. I’m Cobb.” He bentover, picked up the knife and laid it beside the plate of slicedham. “Now if you’ll be kind enough to tell Mrs. Blodgett I’m herean’ would like to — ”
“She can’t talk to ya,” Hetty said, stillquivering but showing signs of pluck. “She can’t talk tonobody.”
“Is she not in, then?”
“She’s in her bed, back there in her rooms.Got her arthritis somethin’ awful. Tillie, that’s my sister, she’sin there nursin’ her.”
“How long has she been under theweather?”
“Took to her bed about nine o’clock lastnight, right after the supper meal. Worn out, she was, from cookin’fer half a dozen swells who don’t even speak the King’s English!Ain’t her fault she’s been laid low!”
“I don’t suppose it is,” Cobb saidsympathetically. “An’ she’s been in bed since then?”
“Didn’t wake up till eight o’clock, if ya c’nbelieve it! Tillie had to tell her about the dreadful thing thathappened upstairs, of course, which upset her all over again.Still, she done her duty an’ give Tillie an’ me our instructionsabout gettin’ food ready fer Mr. Macaulay an’ the swells.” Thisseries of complaints seemed to have a calming effect on Hetty’sfears. She had backed up against a sink on the far wall, and wasnow comfortable enough to sit awkwardly on its rim. “But she’s goneback to sleep again, an’ we ain’t supposed to disturb her.”
“Well, lass, I’ll just wait till later in theday to talk to her. Meantime I can start with the others. I beentold there’s Mr. Bragg, Miss Finch, yer Tillie, an’ yerself whomake up the Elmgrove staff.”
“An’ Phyllis, the mistress’s maid, who’s offin Kingston. An’ Mr. Struthers an’ his boy Cal, out in the stables.An’ Giles, who run off after Alfred died.”
“Where are Miss Finch an’ Mr. Bragg rightnow?”
“Prissy got things set up in the dining-rooma while ago, then went to her room. She’s very upset, findin’ adead body like that.”
“Understandable. An’ Mr. Bragg?”
“He’s tendin’ to the fireplaces upstairs.He’ll be down here shortly,” she said, and flushed a brightscarlet. “Fer some food,” she added.
“Is there a place where I can interview youpeople in private?”
“You don’t think any of us did in poor Mr.Chilton?” she cried, hopping off the sink.
“No, no, not at all. But I’ve found thatservants see an’ hear things that are usually helpful to us.Nothin’ fer you to worry about.”
Looking only marginally relieved, Hetty said,“Well, there’s the big pantry over there. It’s got a table. I couldclear it for ya, an’ take in a couple of chairs from our eatin’place back there.”
“I’d be most pleased if you’d do that ferme,” Cobb said, and flashed her his most ingratiating, gap-toothedgrin.
While Hetty cleared the jars and pots off thepantry table, Cobb carried two wooden chairs into the little roomand set them up. He removed his notebook and pencil from his pocketand arranged them on the table. Hetty brought in a candle-lanternand lit a candelabrum on a nearby shelf. The door would have to bekept ajar to provide both extra light and an exit-point for thesmoke. It wasn’t the Elmgrove library, but it would do.
As Hetty turned to go, Cobb said as gently ashe could, “Hetty, lass. I’d like to start my questionin’ withyou.”
“I want ya to tell me everythin’ that happened downhere from about suppertime on.”
Hetty looked as if she wanted to ask why, butthere was enough of the authority figure in the constable seatedopposite her — despite his bristled hair, red nose and winking wart- to make her drop her eyes and do as she was bid. The question wasnot hard to answer, she informed Cobb, because last evening was arepeat of the previous one. As Chilton, Bragg and Finch served eachcourse upstairs, the soiled dishes came down via the dumb-waiterand were scrubbed clean by herself and Tillie. Mrs. Blodgett, withhelp from Cal Struthers, got the fresh food into the dumb-waiter,and generally supervised the operation. Abel Struthers, thestableman, was again conscripted to tend the fires in the northwestwing and replace chamber-pots where needed. Without the services ofthe disgruntled Giles Harkness or the regular upstairs maid, allhands were needed. But by nine-thirty the dining-room was tidied,the dishes and pots were washed and put away, and everyoneexhausted. Long before that, Mrs. Blodgett, as she had done theevening previous, collapsed in her chair and had to be helped tobed by Tillie, who decided to sleep in a cot beside her mistress.And soon after, the Struthers duo left for their cottage behind thestables.
“So everybody down here was in bed by, say,quarter to ten?” Cobb said when he was finally able to get a wordin.
“We get up before the sun, we do. There’s nolate nights fer the likes of us.”
“An’ all of you, except fer Mrs. Blodgett,have rooms off the hall at the bottom of the stairs backthere?”
“Yes. Austin an’ Prissy have their own roomsan’ Tillie an’ me share. If Giles don’t come back, I’m to move intohis place.”
“So you an’ Bragg an’ Prissy went in thereabout the same time?”
Hetty looked flustered for the first timesince she had realized she wasn’t likely to be arrested. “No. Notexactly. I mean, I went first. I barred the door that goes to thewoodshed an’ the back yard, an’ went inta my room. I just gotundressed when I heard Prissy an’ Austin come down the stairs,talkin’. Then I heard their doors open an’ close.”