from the gorgeous dress. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“It’s very much like one done for the Countess de
Parma,” Sophia replied proudly. “Not exactly like it, of
course, but very close.”
Betsy forced herself to look away from the beautiful
dress. She had to keep her mind on why she was here. “The
countess must have looked lovely. You must have a lot of
posh customers. Are any of them aristocrats?”
Sophia said nothing for a moment, and Betsy was sure
she’d made her move too soon. Then Sophia grinned. “Not
that many, and, frankly, they’re a lot more trouble than
they’re worth. But Mrs. Tortelli likes doin’ for them because
they bring us business.”
“Truth to tell, that’s why I came,” Betsy laughed. She
was relieved the girl hadn’t gone all toff-nosed and proper
on her. “I do need a dress, and I can afford a nice one”—that
was true, she could—“and I heard that Sir George Braxton’s
daughters come here for their clothes. Mind you, I don’t
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139
know them or anything like that, it’s just that one of my acquaintances mentioned you did their dresses.”
“Not anymore,” Sophia said with a shake of her head.
“Mrs. Tortelli stopped taking their custom when Miss Charlotte Braxton wouldn’t pay for a very expensive traveling dress we did for her last year. She still owes us, and do you
know what? Just the other day, they sent a boy here wanting
to know did we have any funeral clothes for hire.” She
pursed her lips and shook her head, clearly disgusted. “We
couldn’t believe it. Have you ever heard of such a thing,
wanting to hire mourning clothes. For goodness sakes, it’s
not like you’re only going to wear them once. Proper
mourning lasts for a year.”
“That’s terrible.” Betsy clucked her tongue. “But if
they’ve had a death in the family, perhaps they’re not thinking clearly. Shock does that sort of thing to some people.”
“Shock, my foot,” Sophia snorted. “Nothing could shock
that family. Aristocrats or not, when they don’t pay their
bills, they’re nothing more than thieves.”
“How dreadful. Why don’t you take them to court?”
Betsy asked.
“Mrs. Tortelli was going to, but yesterday Charlotte
Braxton came in and paid part of what she owed. She
claimed she’d pay the rest as soon as the estate was settled. I
was quite shocked. Can you imagine? She’s already talking
about her inheritance, even Mrs. Tortelli was surprised.
Mind you, she was glad to see part of her money.” Sophia
seemed to catch herself. “Oh, dear, this is terrible, I’m supposed to be showing you wedding-dress patterns, not sitting here chattering like a half-wit.”
“Oh, but chatting is so much more interesting,” Betsy
said eagerly. She had a feeling the girl didn’t often get to
talk to young women her own age. “Especially when it’s
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Emily Brightwell
about people like the Braxtons. Who would have thought
they didn’t pay their bills?”
“That’s not the worst of it,” Sophia sniffed. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard, it’s been in all of the papers.”
“What has?” Betsy asked.
“The reason they needed mourning clothes,” Sophia
replied. “It wasn’t just a death in the family. It was a murder, and it was Sir George got done in. Of course, everyone’s pretending to be so surprised, but no one really is, if you get
my meaning.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes, considering all the things they say about that
family, it’s no wonder one of them ended up dead. First of
all, Sir George was playing with fire by hiring that man who
does the gardening, and then, of course, there’s that talk
about Miss Charlotte.”
Betsy already knew about Randall Grantham and that
Charlotte Braxton loved to travel. But just in case there was
something else, she said, “Miss Charlotte, the one who owed
you money for a long time?”
“That’s right.” Sophia nodded eagerly. “Mrs. Tortelli
heard from Mr. Parnell, he’s a cabbie that works out of the
stand over near the train station that he’s taken Miss Charlotte across the river on more than one occasion.”
“Across the river?” Betsy repeated. She hadn’t a clue
what that meant, but she had a feeling it didn’t have anything to do with a trip to the continent.
“For card games,” Sophia’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“That’s where they have them, at private houses across the
river.”
“You mean—”
“That’s right,” Sophia exclaimed, “Miss Charlotte likes
to gamble.”
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141
*
*
*
Inspector Witherspoon stared at Nina Braxton in exasperation. “Miss Braxton,” he said. “The question is very simple.
Please tell us what you were doing on the day your father
died.”
“I’ve already told you that.” She folded her arms over her
chest. “And I don’t care to repeat myself.”
“You’ve told us where you were on the evening your father was murdered,” Barnes clarified. “What we’d like to know now is what you did the afternoon of that day.”
Barnes had been somewhat surprised when Witherspoon
had initiated this line of inquiry, but he’d learned long ago
that no matter how irrelevant some questions might seem,
there was generally a good reason to be asking them. Besides, he suspected that Mrs. Jeffries might have put a flea in the inspector’s ear about finding out what everyone was doing on the day of the murder.
She stared at them for a long moment. “I spent the
greater part of the afternoon going over some financial papers, and then at four o’clock, I met with the builder.”
“The builder?” Witherspoon pressed. “Would you explain that, please?”
“My father was getting estimates on having the conservatory dismantled so it could be sold.”
“Your father had you deal with such matters?” Witherspoon probed.
“He wasn’t particularly interested in dealing with tradespeople,” she replied. “So he asked me to take care of it.”
“What’s the name of the builders?” Barnes looked up
from his notebook.
“Curriers, they’re in Twickenham,” she said. “I dealt
with Neil Currier.”
“What time did Mr. Currier arrive?” Witherspoon asked.
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Emily Brightwell
He’d no idea if any of this information was going to be useful, but for some reason after he’d finished his breakfast this morning, he’d found himself wondering if perhaps it might
have been something that happened early in the day that
precipitated the murder.
“Four o’clock. I met with him and his assistant in my father’s study,” she replied.
“How long were you with them?” Barnes asked.
“It was close to five o’clock when they
