Page 72 of A Whisper at Midnight

Turning, Tilda took a deep breath and faced the press. “I will answer a question or two.”

One of the reporters, a man who was perhaps a few years older than Tilda and garbed in a rather loud pair of orange plaid pants, squinted at her. “Who are you?”

“Miss Matilda Wren. I am investigating the matter of Louis Chambers’ death.”

The man swept his gaze over her and began to laugh. Thoroughly annoyed, Tilda glowered at him.

Someone else asked, “Why are you investigating?”

“I was hired to do so, and no, I will not reveal by whom,” she said crisply.

“Who killed Chambers?” the reporter who’d laughed at her asked.

“The investigation by Scotland Yard is ongoing.”

The journalist’s expression soured. “You said you would answer questions, not evade them.”

In truth, Tilda had only wanted to distract them from Hadrian and the others. Now that they were gone, she could also be on her way. She looked toward the door to the pub where Teague had just exited. “I’m sureDetective Inspector Teaguewill eagerly answer your questions.”

She stressed Teague and his title, as she was certain the reporter would be far more impressed with him. Judging by the speed with which the man in the obnoxious pants left to speak with Teague, she was not wrong.

Muttering the same curse Hadrian had a few moments earlier, Tilda pivoted and walked to Beryl’s house. She moved quickly and noted that Hadrian was waiting for her at the door.

“Why did you linger?” he asked.

“I wanted to keep the reporters from following Beryl and her staff. I thought I would answer a few questions; however, it seems my role as an investigator is a matter of humor. So I directed them to Teague.”

“Good.” Hadrian frowned slightly. “Though I am sorry they did not take you seriously.”

Tilda lifted a shoulder. “I should not have expected otherwise.”

Hadrian held the door for her as she stepped into the entrance hall. The staff was still assembled, though Mrs. Styles-Rowdon was not present.

Mrs. Dunning, the cook, looked toward Tilda. She appeared to be a mixture of vexed and distraught, her features creased, and her dark brows drawn together. “I am most upset to think someone came to my pantry, pilfered the household arsenic, and used it to poison Mr. Chambers.” During the inquest, Mrs. Dunning had testified that the amount of arsenic remaining in the bottle seemed to have decreased since she’d last used it, but that she couldn’t be certain.

“It’s ghastly,” Mrs. Blank said with a fierce expression. She flicked a glance at Beryl, who was busy handing her hat, veil, and gloves to Clara.

“Someone in the household must have been poisoning Mr. Chambers,” Oswald said. He also glanced toward Beryl.

Did they all think she was guilty?

Massey was nowhere to be seen, but then he’d walked ahead of everyone when they’d left the pub. He was likely already upstairs gathering his things as Hadrian had suggested.

“I understand constables searched the house on Saturday after the inquest was canceled.” Tilda wanted to know if they’d been aware of the arsenic poisoning before today, but it seemed they were not. “Did they not explain why?”

Mrs. Blank shook her head. “They only said they needed to do another search.”

Mrs. Dunning frowned. “I did not realize they’d taken the arsenic from the pantry. But it’s not something I use daily. Or even weekly sometimes.”

“Does anyone have a notion as to how Mr. Chambers would have ingested the arsenic?” Tilda asked. “It doesn’t smell or taste like anything, unfortunately, so it’s possible you have had some too. Have any of you been ill?”

Clara glanced at Beryl whilst Beryl’s features tensed.

“Clara, were you or Mrs. Chambers ill? Or Martha perhaps?” Hadrian asked.

“Mrs. Chambers was ill in January for a time. But she has been well for weeks.”

Tilda looked to Beryl. “And were your symptoms similar to what was described at the inquest today?”