happy to be of help, if I could.”
“Splendid. Good man. I’ll have someone look in on you later. Need anything, use the telephone and ask Higgens, eh?”
“Very good, milord. Thank you.”
“Right. Dubbins? Ah, there you are. Right. Come along.” They left, Lord Bob pulling the door shut behind them. “There’s a chair, sir,” said Carson, “over by the desk.”
I eased the chair out from under the desk, turned it around, straddled it. I said, “I’m sorry to bother you with this now, Mr. Carson.”
“No bother, sir. As I told his lordship, I’m happy to help, sir.” His hands were white, spattered with liver spots. They lay on the front of his coat, trembling like a pair of small pale frightened animals.
“Appreciate it,” I said. “How long have you worked here, Mr. Carson?”
“Over sixty years now, sir. Since I was a child.”
“And how long have you been the Earl’s valet?”
“Forty years, sir.”
“You must’ve known him fairly well.”
“I believe so, sir,” he said.
“It’s been a big shock to you, his death.”
He blinked. His hands clenched slightly. “It has, sir, yes.”
“So the Earl hasn’t been acting differently lately?”
He blinked again. “Differently, sir?”
“Worried. Unhappy.”
Blink, blink. “No, sir.”
“You would’ve known if he was worried.”
“I like to think so, sir, yes. But the Earl, he was a man who kept his own council.”
I nodded. Forty years with the Earl. It was a relationship that was longer and maybe more complicated than most marriages. And sixty years here at Maplewhite. Wherever Carson’s loyalties lay, they didn’t lie with me.
“But as far as you know,” I said, “he wasn’t depressed. Wasn’t worried.”
“No, sir.”
“Anything unusual happen today?” I asked him.
Blink. “How do you mean that, sir?”
“Visitors, letters. Anything that didn’t usually happen.”
“No, sir.”
“No visitors?”
“No, sir.”
“Any visitors yesterday?”
“Lord and Lady Purleigh, sir.”
“In the evening.” When Lord Bob and his wife had left the drawing room.
“Yes, sir.”
I nodded. “No one else?”
“No, sir.”
“I noticed there was a fire in the fireplace today.”
“Yes, sir. There’s always a fire.”
“Always?”
“The Earl required it, sir.”
“Required it?”
“For his circulation, sir. Ever since the accident.”
I nodded. “He fell off a horse, I heard.”
“Yes, sir.”
This wasn’t much more difficult than pulling teeth from an eel. “And when was that, Mr. Carson?”
“Three years ago, sir.”
“Wasn’t the Earl a little old to go riding?”
“He was a great sportsman, sir.”
“Right. So the fire stayed lit all the time. Day and night.”
“Yes, sir. Mornings, I raked the coals and got a new one started.”
“The Earl hasn’t walked since the accident?”
Blink, blink. “No, sir.”
“He had a wheelchair. He could use that by himself.”
Blink. “For short distances, yes, sir.”
“He could get in and out of it himself?”
“On some days, sir. Some days he required assistance.”
“Did you give him the gun, Mr. Carson?”
The pale hands clenched at the lapels of his coat. “The gun, sir? No, sir, I never did, sir. I swear on my life I didn’t.”
“You know that the gun was kept in the Great Hall.”
“I heard you say so, sir, to Lord Purleigh.”
“You haven’t seen it there?”
“Not to notice it, sir. I know very little about guns.”
“How do you think it got to the Earl’s room?”
“I can’t imagine, sir.” He shook his white head. “For a fact, sir, can't.”
“Could the Earl have gone down the stairs by himself? In the wheelchair?”
“No, sir. When he came downstairs, I needed help with the chair. It’s very heavy, sir.”
“When was the last time he came downstairs?”
“Last week, sir. It was a sunny day, and the Earl wanted to see the gardens.”
“Did he go anywhere near the Great Hall?”
“No, sir. Briggs helped me with the chair, getting it downstairs, and I rolled it out to the gardens myself.”
“Was someone with him all the time?”
“I was, sir. The entire time. Near to half an hour. And then Briggs helped me get him back up to his room.”
“Okay,” I said. “What happened today?”
“When, sir?”
Bit by bit, I got it out of him. At four o’clock, as usual, Carson had brought the Earl his afternoon tea. As usual, the door between the anteroom and the Earl’s bedroom was shut. As usual, Carson waited in the anteroom for the Earl to ring a bell by his bedside, signaling that he was ready for the tea. No bell rang. At a quarter after four, Carson heard the sound of a gunshot. He ran to the Earl’s door, tried to open it, discovered it was locked. He tried his own key. It wouldn’t work. He pounded on the door. No answer. He ran into his room, used the emergency telephone to call Higgens. A few minutes later, Higgens arrived, with Lord Bob. The two of them couldn’t open the door. Lord Bob went off for help.
“Okay,” I said. “When you heard the gunshot, did you know what it was?”
He blinked. “I wasn’t quite sure what it was, sir. But a gunshot is what it sounded like. It was very loud, sir, even through the door.” “Did the Earl usually lock his door?”
“No, sir. He never did.”
“Where was the other key? The one that was in the lock this afternoon?”
“In his cabinet, sir. The bottom drawer.”
“And you’re sure you heard the shot at a quarter after four?” “Yes, sir. I’d just looked at my watch, sir.”
“Why look at your watch?”
“It was getting late, sir. Most times, the Earl rang for tea by ten minutes past four.”
“Mr. Carson, I’ve heard that there’s been some bad feelings between the Earl and Lord Purleigh.”
He blinked. The hands stirred. “Bad feelings, sir?”
