“Mrs. O’Brien, that’s enough,” Roderick said from the doorway.
She sniffed. “Mind your own business.” She draped a towel over the bowl and carried it over to the stove where the dough could rise in the warmth.
“Mr. Malloy, we can use the butler’s pantry,” he said, and led Frank through the kitchen to the tidy room lined with cabinets. They sat at the small table in the center of the room. “Mrs. O’Brien has a loose tongue.”
“I like a woman who speaks her mind.”
Roderick frowned but said, “Why did you want to see me?”
“The medical examiner thinks Mr. Devries was stabbed with something long and thin, but the clothing he was wearing when he died didn’t have any holes in it.”
“Of course not. Do you think Mr. Devries would wear clothing with holes in it?”
Frank managed not to sigh. “Whatever stabbed him would’ve made a hole in whatever he was wearing. We don’t know when he was stabbed, but if we found clothing with a hole in it, we could figure out when he was wearing it and know when it happened.”
Roderick considered this information. “Then you would also be able to figure out who could have stabbed him.”
Frank saw no reason to respond. He simply waited.
Roderick took his time with his reply. “I did not notice damage to any of Mr. Devries’s clothes.”
“The hole might’ve been very small. Maybe you overlooked it.”
“That’s…possible.” Plainly, he didn’t think so.
“Can you remember what clothing he was wearing when he came home from Miss English’s house yesterday?”
“I believe I can.”
“Good. Let’s go take a look at them.”
Roderick stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I want to go with you to look at them. And if we don’t find any holes, I want to look at all his other clothes.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Devries wouldn’t approve.”
Frank wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t approve of Frank looking at Devries’s clothes or of him going upstairs in the house, but he didn’t much care. “I won’t tell her. Now are you going to take me or should I try to find my own way?”
The thought of Frank wandering around the house by himself was enough to persuade Roderick of the lesser of two evils. Without a word, he rose and left the room, Frank at his heels. They climbed two sets of stairs and silently strode down a long corridor to one of several doors and entered Chilton Devries’s bedroom. The dark, masculine furnishings told Frank he did not share this room with his wife.
Frank could never understand why rich people kept separate bedrooms. He recalled sharing a bed with his wife as one of the best parts of being married. But rich people did manage to have children, so he supposed they got together sometimes. Frank could only be glad he wasn’t invading a room shared by Mrs. Devries. She’d probably have his job for that. Or at least his head.
The room contained a large mahogany bed with elaborately carved head- and footboards. A fireplace dominated one wall, and two stuffed chairs had been placed in front of it. A table between them held a nut bowl and a tray with some glasses and a crystal decanter, the kind used to serve liquor, although this one was empty at the moment. The nut bowl was a fancy one with a holder in the center for the nutcracker and other implements. It was half full of walnuts.
Roderick closed the door behind them, then went to a door on the left side wall. This opened into a dressing room with built-in drawers and cabinets. In one corner was a basket that apparently contained dirty clothes. Roderick started picking through them, and pulled out a man’s white dress shirt.
“I believe this is the one he was wearing when he arrived home that morning.” He held it up, and he and Frank examined the back of it. Frank had hoped for a bloodstain, but he didn’t even find a hole.
Roderick seemed even more disappointed. Frank could understand that. Roderick would probably be very happy to discover Miss English had stabbed his master.
“What else was he wearing?” Frank asked.
“If the shirt doesn’t have a hole—”
“What else?”
Roderick sighed with long-suffering and found a set of balbriggans, an undershirt, and long johns. The undershirt was also undamaged, although Frank couldn’t help noticing how much finer the fabric was than the set he was wearing. They examined all the rest of the clothing in the basket, but found nothing with a hole in it.
“All right, tell me everything Mr. Devries did that morning while he was here.”
For a second Frank thought he might refuse, but he squared his shoulders as if preparing for a fight, and said, “I already told you.”
“Tell me again.”
Another sigh. “He took a bath.”
“Did you help him undress?”
“I already told you, yes. And I saw no evidence that he was injured.”
“Where did he take a bath?”
“In the bathroom.”
Frank managed not to lose his temper. “Show me.”
With obvious reluctance, Roderick took him back into the bedroom and to a door on the opposite side of the room. This led to a fully equipped bathroom, with a tub, a commode, and a sink. Which Devries obviously had all to himself. Being rich did have its advantages.
“After his bath, did he get dressed in here?”
“No, he put on his robe.” Roderick indicated a garment hanging on the back of the door.
Frank snatched it down and examined it. No blood. No holes.
“Then what did he do?”
“He…He called for some breakfast to be sent up.”
“What did he do while he waited?”
“Read the paper.”
“You said he had a fight with his son.”
“I never said any such thing.”
Frank gave him the stare that usually frightened hardened criminals into cooperating. Roderick gulped audibly. “Mr. Paul came in while Mr. Devries was reading his paper. I do not know what they discussed. I left the room.”
“Did you go downstairs?”
“No, I went into the dressing room.”
“Then you know what they argued about.”
“I most certainly do not. I do not eavesdrop.”
“But you couldn’t have helped overhearing, especially if they were shouting.”
But Roderick wasn’t going to betray his master, even if he was dead. “I did not hear anything.”
Frank nodded in silent acknowledgment of Roderick’s victory. “After Paul left, then what happened?”
“I came out to help Mr. Devries get dressed.”
“He was still wearing his robe?”
Roderick hesitated. “I…No, he wasn’t.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Nothing.”
“He was naked?”
“Yes, he…he was probably expecting me to dress him, so he’d removed his robe.”
“Did he remove it while Paul was still there?”
“I don’t know.”
Frank thought this, at least was the truth. Roderick looked too worried about the implications to be lying.
