I nodded. That was odd; a formal gown around your knees would make it hard to then step out of the kind of shoes a queen would wear. I hadn’t yet met her, but the Rhiannon I’d heard described seemed far more graceful than that. “What did she do the moment you opened the door?”
“She looked up and gasped.”
“In surprise?”
“No, sir. More in satisfaction.” He took a deep breath and went “ Ahhhhh, ” imitating her response.
“Did she protest the interruption?”
“No, sir, she seemed intoxicated.”
“How long did that last?”
“Until the king arrived. Then she seemed to sober up.”
“He does have that effect on people.”
“Yes, sir.”
I walked around the circle. “Did you find the chalk she used to draw this?”
“No, sir, we did not.”
“How do you explain that?”
“Two possible explanations, sir. One, she used all the chalk she had for the designs. Two, she threw the chalk out the window, and it shattered below. I found no fragments, but the courtyard has a lot of traffic. They could have been thoroughly crushed before I was able to search.”
I nodded again and returned to the window. “Sergeant, is there anything, any detail, that was left out of your report? I know it might seem inconsequential, but you never know what might be crucial.”
He stared straight ahead, resolutely formal. “I’m aware of that, sir. My report is as thorough as I can make it. I wrote down everything I observed. The questions you’ve asked me here are more matters of interpretation.”
“True. And you’ve been invaluable, thank you.”
“Will that be all, sir?”
“Mostly. Except… do you think the queen did it?”
“ ‘Think,’ sir? I’m a soldier. I don’t think.”
“You must have an opinion.”
“As do we all, along with a certain orifice.”
Vogel clearly was not going to commit himself; perhaps he had done just that at some point in the past, which explained why he was still a mere sergeant. “Yes. Well. Thank you again. And please keep this conversation just between us for the time being.”
“Of course, sir.” He bowed and left with the same precision he’d arrived.
I looked down at the bloodstain on the stone. I knelt and ran my finger across it, then smelled my fingertips. It was blood, all right. Something had died in this room. But that was the only thing that might truly be what it seemed.
Nursemaid Beth Maxwell was a cheery, round young woman who would no doubt make a good mother herself, should she ever run across a man whose tastes ran to acres of rolling white flesh. She wore a neat, spotless uniform and a little cap over her tight brown curls, and looked up at me with guileless eyes. Phil let me use his office for these interviews, which conveyed a lot more authority than I’d command on my own.
“I appreciate you seein’ me on such short notice,” I said, exaggerating my country accent so she’d feel less threatened. “Just want to ask you a coupla things ’bout that night in the nursery.”
She shuddered at the memory. “I’ll never forget a thing from that night.”
“That’s what I’m hopin’. When the queen came in from the dinner party, did she seem upset or anything?”
“No, just the opposite. She seemed almost silly. I assumed she’d overindulged a bit on wine during dinner, although that wasn’t like her, especially since Diri was born-that was our nickname for the prince, you know. The king called him P.D., but he was our little Diri.” She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “But she certainly didn’t seem depressed.”
“Did you say anything to her?”
“Just reported that Diri had spent a quiet evening, and had only just begun to fuss because he was hungry.”
“Fuss?”
“Yes, you know how babies are.”
“Not really.”
“Oh. Well, their little tummies know when things are supposed to happen, and if they don’t get fed right on time, they let you know they’re not happy about it.”
“So she was late, then?”
She thought for a moment. “A bit, I guess. No more than a few minutes.”
I thanked her and showed her out. I was starting to get an idea, but I tried not to dwell on it until I had more information. I wanted the theory to fit the facts, not the other way around. I made some quick notes and stared at the battle scene painted on the ceiling until the next timid knock on the door.
The maid Sally Sween was way too pretty to work in a bachelor household. Had she been in service back when Phil and I were teenagers, I shudder to think of the lengths to which we’d have gone to win her favors. As it was, her exquisite face was puffy with fear-spawned tears, since being summoned to the king’s office was almost never a good thing.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked. Her uniform worked hard to control her decolletage, which distracted me more than I wanted to admit. She shook her head. I poured myself one. She crossed enviable legs as she waited.
Finally I said, “You stated that when you first checked on the queen and the baby, she was asleep in the rocking chair, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was the baby asleep?”
She blinked. “Well… I assume so. He wasn’t crying or anything.”
I nodded. “Now I need you to think real hard on this one. Did you actually see the baby in the queen’s arms?”
She thought so hard I was afraid her eyes would pop from her face. “She had a bundle in her arms that I thought was her son, but… I can’t swear to actually seeing him. Is that important?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. But inside I felt another click as more things aligned.
I kept my gaze as even as I could. What I’d asked was horrendous even to me, but I couldn’t let Phil know that, or I knew he’d talk me out of it. He stared at me over his desk, speechless.
Wentrobe finally spoke. “Baron LaCrosse, are you sure that’s needed?”
The use of the title made me grit my teeth. “Pretty sure,” I said, although I kept my eyes on Phil.
“Well, I don’t know if I can condone this,” Wentrobe said. “It’s… it’s sacrilegious.”
“It’s necessary,” I said. “I just need one workman to help me. No one else has to know.”
Phil looked down for a minute. “Okay,” he said at last. “I did ask for your help, so I have to let you do your job.” Then he looked up and added, “But no workman. You and I’ll do it.”
Wentrobe looked stricken. “Your Majesty, I don’t think-”
“No one is going to desecrate my son’s tomb,” he snapped. “If I do it, then I know it’ll be done with respect.” He stood up and took a deep breath. “Exactly what do you think you’ll find?”
“The last piece of the frame,” I said. I didn’t want to give him my entire theory just yet. “Then maybe I can see the whole picture.”
EIGHT
