When that stratagem foundered, he had taken a moment to reorganize his thoughts under the guise of having a tantrum and settled on yet another tactic. He would make himself integral to her investigation so that he could stay abreast of its developments and manipulate its direction.
Bea did not assume that the banker’s machinations meant he was guilty. As his livelihood depended on his status in society, he was particularly vulnerable to the deleterious effects of gossip. Having his prized French chef brutally slain in his own home would set tongues wagging in a way that a precautionary tale about irresponsible device maintenance would not. The fact that he felt compelled to polish his heritage by wrongfully crediting his family with financial innovations indicated that he was not quite delighted with the luster bestowed by his ancestors and felt vulnerable to society’s judgments.
It was possible, therefore, that his manipulations stemmed from an instinct to protect his name and business. But it was equally likely they were spurred by a desire to save himself from the hangman’s noose.
And if it was the hangman’s noose, then what reason did Mr. Mayhew have to kill Mr. Réjane? Previously, she had thought it might have been the audacity of the chef’s presumption to leave his employ a moment before he was prepared to release him. But that was the motive of a dunderhead who acted without consideration. The banker had proved himself more thoughtful, and she knew that if he had acted lethally, then he had stronger cause.
Recalling again the victim’s strangely timed proposal to Mrs. Wallace, she felt certain Mr. Mayhew’s actions, whatever they were, related somehow to Mr. Réjane’s determination to leave. Both events had been precipitated by something.
Convinced it could only be an argument, Bea asked him what he and the chef quarreled about the day before.
He started with surprise but recovered quickly, smiling with warmth and condescension. “My dear duchess, I cannot conceive to what you are referring. If we are going to pursue Monsieur Alphonse’s killer together, I must insist that you keep to the facts. Your imagination is charming and I look forward to hearing many entertaining tales from you, perhaps over dinner at Kesgrave House, but I believe this moment calls for sober-minded consideration. Inventing quarrels will do nothing to advance our investigation. Now, regarding my decision to get rid of le peu guillotine, I think you will see I was well justified. If Monsieur Alphonse did not hurt himself fatally on it, as you contend, it was only a matter of time before one of the servants did. I am to be lauded for taking preemptive action to protect my staff.”
To be sure, the quarrel was speculative, but supposition was an entirely different beast from invention. Some event of deep significance had occurred between the chef and his employer to throw the former’s trajectory wildly off course. She firmly believed that when Mr. Réjane woke up yesterday morning he’d had no intention of proposing to Mrs. Wallace, and yet several hours later he ruthlessly abandoned the quails to ask her to accompany him to France. Swiftly and abruptly, he had become unmoored from his position.
Obviously, the only thing that could account for such a rapid change in situation was an intense argument with the man who employed him.
Eliding the truth slightly, Bea advised him to think very carefully before denying it again because she had direct knowledge of the dispute. “Your determination to destroy the apparatus originally identified as the murder weapon already makes you appear less than innocent in the affair. Lying now would only deepen my suspicion.”
A variety of expressions flitted across his face—confusion, doubt, anger, dislike—and Bea watched as he struggled to settle on a strategy for dealing with her accusation. He wanted to hold to his denial, but not knowing the source of her information, he was obliged to tread carefully. If he continued to refute it and she produced unassailable evidence, he would not only be caught in the middle of a lie but also embarrassed in front of Kesgrave.
Both were equally important to him, she thought with her new understanding of his character: He would do everything he could to frustrate her investigation while still trying to endear himself to the duke.
Finally, Mr. Mayhew nodded as if suddenly comprehending a thorny question. “Oh, I see, you are referring to the minor disagreement Monsieur Alphonse and I had yesterday. It was your description that confused me, for it was nothing so momentous as a quarrel, just a difference of opinion—very mundane. But you need not apologize, for I know how you ladies enjoy your dramatic confrontations.”
Bea ignored the slight against her sex and asked about the source of the so-called minor disagreement.
Mr. Mayhew pursed his lips, clearly not delighted with her other female habit of persistence. Determined to make the interview as difficult as possible, he responded succinctly, saying only that it was over an introduction and requiring Bea to press him further. “An introduction to whom?”
Again, he was disinclined to answer helpfully. “A colleague. Nobody you have heard of, your grace, and certainly well beneath your notice.”
Bea tilted her head at what she hoped was an imperious angle and thanked the banker to allow her the courtesy of determining who was beneath her notice. The tips of his ears turned faintly pink as he apologized for trying to spare her tedious details.
Stubbornly, she remained focused on the information she sought. “Monsieur Alphonse requested an introduction to someone of little significance and you refused?”
Mr. Mayhew tittered lightly. “There you go again, your grace, using colorful language to make it all sound so dramatic. I did not refuse, no. The person indicated that now was not a propitious time for the introduction to take place and I chose
