Page 47 of Disturbing the Dead
“So Sir Alastair died the way we thought he died.”
“Yes. Otherwise, as I said, Sir Alastair has very little to tell us.”
“And the rope?” I say.
“Ah, yes. I actually had time to check that before Addington arrived.” He points to the rope. “Would you like to give it a try?”
I smile. “I would, thank you.”
Matching weapon marks is one thing they can do in this time. Or Gray can do it, though the validity for court is still in question. There are three basic steps here. The first is comparing the size and pattern of the rope sample to the marks. I do that and agree that it appears to match, which is as conclusive as that can be. The next step is examining a fiber from the wound and comparing it to one from the rope. Under the magnifying glass, they do indeed match. The third step is the most conclusive, but that involved Isla. She took these two fibers for comparative testing and found a match. Apparently, I missed that demonstration, too.
“I have also confirmed that it is the same type of rope we found in the packing crates,” Gray says.
“Which suggests it wasn’t premeditated murder,” I say. “Yes, I know, that doesn’t matter here—it’s still murder, and the killer will still go to the gallows. But it does affect the investigation.”
“Because grabbing a murder weapon from the supplies at hand suggests that the killer didn’t plan to murder Sir Alastair.”
“Right,” I say. “Either Sir Alastair caught them doing something, possibly in the artifact room, or they argued and the killer lashed out.”
“It must have been a quiet argument if no one overheard.”
“Fair point. Considering—” I stop. “Isla wanted to discuss this over lunch. Should we wait?”
He checks his pocket watch. “I would rather not wait to decide our next move. However, I agree Isla should be part of the conversation. Shall we see whether she is free to join us for this tea that we’ve let go cold?”
“Good idea.”
We’re in the dining room with fresh tea and biscuits and Isla, who was indeed ready to join us. We bring her up to speed quickly. She confirms that her analysis on the rope matched fibers found in Sir Alastair’s neck and that the length of rope used is from the same skein as the rope found for packing, meaning the murder weapon was already at the scene.
As for the dirt, the traces found in the exhibit room are not a conclusive match for the dirt in the tunnel. They could still be from the tunnel, but we can’t say with certainty that the killer came in that way.
Then I say, “So we seem to have an unplanned attack. Something happened in that room, and Sir Alastair was murdered without raising enough fuss to be heard through the closed door. Did he walk in on the killer?”
“Stealing an artifact,” Isla says.
“That’s the most obvious answer. The door was unlocked while they were being removed. Let’s say the killer sneaks in before it’s locked again. Then Sir Alastair enters.”
“Could the killer have had a key?” Isla asks.
“No, only Sir Alastair…” I stop. “But we haven’t recovered the key, meaning it’s still out there.”
I remember the hidden key in the Kings’ apartment. I take the envelope from my pocket and explain where it came from.
“That is not the key to the artifact room,” Gray says. “While we were at the house, I examined the lock to see whether it could be opened the way you do it.”
“With my handy hairpins?”
“Yes, and it is a more complex mechanism. That key”—he points to the one on the table—“is for the simpler sort.”
He’s correct, of course. This is a classic Victorian key, the sort we in the modern world consider an old-fashioned key. My grandmother had locks like that in her home, and I’d delighted in opening them with my junior-detective-kit picks.
“So three options,” I say. “One, the killer snuck in while the artifacts were being carried out. Two, they came in while Sir Alastair was in there with the door unlocked. Three, Sir Alastair took the person inside himself. Except the house had no visitors that morning. Which suggests the killer was part of the staff.”
Isla shakes her head. “They were preparing for a party. People would have been coming and going, and the staff wouldn’t consider them ‘visitors.’ Someone could have easily entered through the back door if they were dressed in any sort of service or trade clothing.”
“Also,” Gray says, “while the staff may have not admitted any visitors, Sir Alastair was not the sort to stand on ceremony. If he were expecting a guest and the staff were busy, he’d have let them in himself.”
“With that sort of chaos—planning for a fancy party—getting into the house would have been easy,” Isla says.
