Page 25 of Disturbing the Dead
That happened shortly after nine in the morning. The door was not touched again until eight thirty at night, no one on the staff having any reason to check it in the interim.
It would take a long time to unwrap a mummy and rewrap a body with the bandages. How long? That might require some scientific experimentation. It would likely be hours, though, meaning the nearly twelve hours between that door being locked and reopened should be more than sufficient if you knew you’d be undisturbed. All you had to do was lock the door while you were in there and leave it unlocked when you left.
And who could rewrap the mummy? Did that require special skills? Or could anyone manage it well enough? We’d noted the mummy had seemed in rough shape, which might be a result of amateur rewrapping. We’ll need to speak more to someone who’d seen it while it still contained the mummified remains.
Sir Alastair was with the footmen after his wife and the children left for their walk. Then he locked the artifact room. So who saw him last? No one’s sure, and I’m not surprised by that. The staff would be intent on their work. They aren’t exactly checking their nonexistent wristwatches for the time.
They know Sir Alastair was here when his wife left. They know she was still gone when he was last seen. Breakfast was served at seven. Lady Christie and the children left at about eight thirty and returned “late morning.” I need to ask her when they returned from their walk, though she might not know the exact time either.
None of the staff report anything unusual in Sir Alastair’s behavior.
“He actually seemed in good spirits, miss,” one of the maids says. “Which surprised us because we all knew he did not care to host the party.”
“Were there arguments over it?”
“Arguments?” Her eyes round as if I’d said something vulgar. “Lady Christie does not argue. She is far too sweet-tempered. Now the first Lady Christie—”
When she stops herself, I say, “Anything you can tell me is helpful information for catching His Lordship’s killer. It is not rumor or tittle-tattle.”
“I mean no offense to the first Lady Christie. I liked her a great deal. I have been blessed to have two fine mistresses. But the first Lady Christie was like her daughter.” The maid’s eyes sparkle. “She’s a right firecracker, that one. Ran Sir Alastair to distraction, but Lady Christie knows how to handle Miss Phoebe, just as her mother did. I have heard Lady Christie tell Sir Alastair that spirited fillies should be cherished, not broken, and I thought how proud the first Lady Christie would be to hear that. But what I was saying was that the first Lady Christie had a temper, but she was not ill-tempered, if you take my meaning.”
“A spirited mare who had not been broken.”
The maid smiles. “Yes, that is it. Sir Alastair did not always seem to know what to do with her, much like their daughter.”
“He didn’t argue back?”
“He is not that sort of man. When she became angry, he would leave.”
“Leave or flee?”
“He made it seem like leaving, but he was fleeing, miss. Not that he feared her tongue, but he liked a quiet household. I always thought that with the second Lady Christie, he would stay at home more, as she kept things quiet for him. But he did not.”
Because what he wanted wasn’t a quiet household. It was a solitary life where he could focus all his attention on his passions. People were an interruption, even if they were family.
“So when you say you knew he didn’t want tonight’s demonstration…”
“Just because Sir Alastair did not like to argue does not mean he held his tongue, miss. Not when he was feeling peevish. He did not wish to host tonight’s party, but Lord Muir insisted, and Lady Christie was left to smooth the waters, lest it cost him his patron. Sir Alastair could never seem to understand that he needed Lord Muir if he wished to continue his work. The master was a brilliant man, miss, but in some things, people like him…” She shrugs. “Well, they are not terribly sensible.”
Because it is frustrating—and insulting—for a scientist to be expected to entertain like a circus dog. In this, I have sympathy for Sir Alastair. But I have more sympathy for Lady Christie, who was “sensible” and understood that just because her husband shouldn’t need to pander to his sponsor didn’t mean he didn’t need to do it.
“I think he may have also been seeking a new patron because of it,” the maid says. “I heard him mutter to Lady Christie that he might not need to put up with Lord Muir’s obligations for much longer. She asked why, and he would only say that he’d had enough of this nonsense.”
I ask the maid more questions, mostly because she’s answering them. If you find a chatty witness, you get everything you can out of them, because others won’t be so talkative.
It helps that there don’t seem to be any household problems the maid might be reluctant to discuss. Sir Alastair was too caught up in his work to be much bother to the staff. Lady Christie was exacting but also considerate and kind enough to compensate for it. The children were children. Phoebe was a handful, but a good-hearted girl who did as she was told… eventually. Michael got up to just as much mischief, but he also kept Phoebe in check.
Sir Alastair treated his wife and children well. Lady Christie was devoted to the children, and they to her. For a recently blended family, there was surprisingly little friction, probably because they had all known one another for years.
I talk to a few other members of the staff after that, but the only piece of tittle-tattle I get is that two of the staff were released when the Christies returned from Egypt last year, with the former governess and her son elevated to family. One maid and the underbutler did not treat the new arrivals with the proper respect, and they were let go, as much for their behavior, I suspect, as a warning to the others.
Sir Alastair expected his new wife and son to be treated as well as his first wife and daughter, and anyone who had a problem with that would be let go with a month’s wages. It was handled firmly but fairly, and while I do take the names of the two staff members, I’m assured that they already had new positions and left without a fuss.
McCreadie and I are in the small sitting room where Isla had sat with Lady Christie, it being the only room where we can speak in private. We compare information. Nothing from his interviews contradicts mine. No one saw Sir Alastair since before Lady Christie and the children returned, and no one went into the artifact room again until after the party was underway.
“So the killer had time to make a mummy,” I say. “Strangle Sir Alastair. Get his body into the artifact room.”
“If he wasn’t already there.”
