Page 27 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

T he next morning Caroline was still stiff from the long carriage ride and was more than happy to take the dogs for a walk in the park for her suffering employer.

She enjoyed Green Park before the fashionable crowds descended in the afternoon.

Sometimes she didn’t encounter another soul as she strolled along the pathways in the dappled morning light.

As she was turning for home, a familiar figure called her name, and she paused to see Inspector Ross striding toward her.

“Good morning, Lady Caroline.” He swept off his hat and bowed to her. “I was just coming to see the Scuttons.”

“Then we can walk back together once I have found all the dogs.” Caroline looked around her. “Pippin is refusing to come to me.”

“Let me try.” Inspector Ross whistled loudly. Pippin appeared in some bushes ahead of them and immediately came loping back to Caroline.

“I wish it wasn’t considered unladylike to whistle,” Caroline said as she attached the dog’s lead to his collar. “It would save me a great deal of time.”

“At this time in the morning, I suspect you could whistle away, my lady, and no one would care.”

“And to be fair, no one would care anyway, as I am no longer accountable to polite society.” Caroline set her hand on the arm he offered her, and they headed to the park gates.

“I’ll have to practice.” She glanced up at him as they passed through the wrought-iron gates. “Have you found the other Mr. Brigham?”

“Not yet, but we have contacted the authorities in Ireland. They’ve promised to relay our concerns to Mr. Brigham and to warn him not to attempt to leave the country until he has spoken to us.”

“Do you think he will pay heed to such instructions?”

“I can only hope he will. If the information you passed on about Miss Smith seeing him only three days ago is correct, then he doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to leave.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Caroline said. “And Miss Smith told us yesterday that he was in fine form when she saw him.”

“If he thinks he’s got away with murder, that might account for his high spirits.” Inspector Ross paused. “Do I understand you’ve had more contact with Miss Smith?”

“Mrs. Frogerton was visiting Theydon Bois and offered to deliver Mary’s belongings to the Scutton residence in Epping where Miss Smith also lives,” Caroline explained.

“Did she now?” Inspector Ross didn’t look at all surprised. “And did you learn anything else that might aid my investigation?”

“Nothing in particular, sir, but Miss Smith believed Mary became alienated from her family on the occasion of her marriage.”

“Anything else?”

Caroline hesitated. “Miss Smith believed Mary had told Jude her concerns about her brother’s quest for the earldom.”

“And now both of them are dead and the Brighams were seen at both locations,” Inspector Ross said. “And George Brigham claims he has no idea how either of those things happened.”

“How bizarre.”

They waited until a hackney cab went past before crossing the road and turning into the relative quietness of Half Moon Street. It was a bright morning, and the sun was reflected off the many windows and filtered through the greenness of the trees.

Mr. Jenkins opened the front door for them and greeted them. Inspector Ross began to converse with the butler as he escorted him into the dining room. Caroline took the dogs down to the kitchen, and by the time she returned, Inspector Ross was being rigorously questioned by the Scuttons.

“How can George claim that he has no knowledge of what happened?” Mrs. Scutton’s tone was irate. “I saw him in Mary’s bedchamber. Has he run mad?”

“He maintains that he did see Mrs. Brigham that evening, but that when he left, she was perfectly fine and still happily conversing with his brother.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mr. Scutton added his voice to the discussion. “How can he expect to be believed when we all know he’s lying?”

“Is it possible, Mrs. Scutton, that George Brigham might have left before his brother murdered Mrs. Brigham?” Inspector Ross asked.

The color rose alarmingly on Mrs. Scutton’s face. “I told you not to bother me until you had a full confession from both of the Brighams. Yet you turn up and ask me this ?”

“I ask because sometimes in a moment of tragedy, our memories can be unreliable. You told me yourself that you had no recollection of George having any part in the murder, and I wondered whether he was, in fact, present during the incident itself.”

Mrs. Scutton ignored the question and looked at her son. “You must go at once to this man’s superiors and demand that someone competent is put in his place!”

“I’ll do better than that, Mother. I’ll accompany him back to his place of work and denounce him in front of everyone.”

Inspector Ross inclined his head an icy inch. “If you wish to accompany me, Mr. Scutton, I cannot stop you. But I can assure you that I am doing all that is necessary to bring the Brighams to justice.”

“Balderdash,” Mrs. Scutton snapped. “You’re allowing George to get away with spinning fairy tales while his brother leaves the country!”

Inspector Ross looked at Mr. Scutton. “Do you believe Mr. Brigham took his wife’s jewelry and possessions, sir? They were not in her bedroom.”

“Of course he did.” Mr. Scutton looked equally displeased. “Now, have you finished asking your useless questions? I’ll walk back to Scotland Yard with you and seek out your superiors.”

“As you wish, sir.” Inspector Ross bowed to Mrs. Frogerton. “Good morning, ma’am. And thank you for seeing me.”

He turned and left with Mr. Scutton on his heels.

Mrs. Frogerton raised her eyebrows and looked at Caroline. “Such excitement so early in the morning. It’s quite put me off my breakfast.”

“Poor Inspector Ross.” Caroline helped herself to some toast and marmalade.

“Inspector Ross is incompetent.” Mrs. Scutton was still angry. “But of course you would choose to sympathize with him, Caroline, being of the same class.”

“A class your son aspires to join, ma’am,” Caroline said.

“That is a different matter entirely,” Mrs. Scutton said. “When Thomas assumes the title, he will outrank your inspector and will have nothing to do with him.”

Mrs. Frogerton set down her cup and regarded her guest. “I’ve learned a lot about society while watching my Dotty find a husband, ma’am.

All these families are connected in some way.

If your son is seen to be condescending toward a member of a highly respected aristocratic family, it won’t reflect well on him . ”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Frogerton, your opinion on this matter is hardly relevant,” Mrs. Scutton said. “Your … origins are rather lowly.”

“And I’m proud of that, but it doesn’t make any difference as to what my own two eyes tell me. You’d do better not to offend Inspector Ross. If his brother dies, he’ll be the next marquess, and then where will you be?”

Mrs. Scutton took a steadying breath. “Perhaps we should agree to disagree and change the subject, Mrs. Frogerton. I hate to argue when you have been so kind to us.”

Mrs. Frogerton wasn’t smiling, but she inclined her head in acquiescence.

After a moment, Mrs. Scutton spoke again. “Do you have any further news about the improvements to Morton House?”

“I haven’t heard that anything has gone wrong since I last spoke to Mr. Murphy, but I will contact him today and ask him when he intends to be done.”

“That is most obliging of you,” Mrs. Scutton said and went as if to rise from the table.

“Oh!” Mrs. Frogerton exclaimed. “I forgot! Miss Smith gave me a letter for you. I still have it in my pocket.”

Mrs. Scutton took the letter, and her face went pale. “Good Lord. This is Mary’s handwriting, not Miss Smith’s.”

“Is it?” Mrs. Frogerton asked. “I would not know the difference. It was in Miss Smith’s possession. She said Jude had it in his trunk from Mary when he was in London.”

Mrs. Scutton turned the envelope over in her hands, which were trembling slightly. “I never expected to see her handwriting again.”

“It must be quite a shock, ma’am. Perhaps you should stay in your seat while you read it in case you are quite understandably overcome,” Mrs. Frogerton suggested.

“No, I think I will retire and read this in my room.” Mrs. Scutton shot to her feet. “Pray excuse me.”

Mrs. Frogerton grimaced after Mrs. Scutton disappeared through the door. “I handled that badly. She wasn’t in the best of moods with me after our previous discussion and not prepared to be consoled.”

“There’s always the chance she might share the letter with us after she’s read it,” Caroline said.

“Or leave it open on her dressing table.” Mrs. Frogerton looked hopeful. “I wouldn’t be above reading it if she did.” She paused. “There’s something not right about all this, Caroline. Inspector Ross asked the correct questions even if Mrs. Scutton took offense at them.”

“Which particular questions?”

“Whether George Brigham was still with his brother when the fatal blows were struck. I cannot imagine why he would claim otherwise unless he truly was not there.”

“Perhaps he’s lying?” Caroline countered. “And stalling to give his brother time to escape the authorities.”

“But that’s another odd thing, Caroline. Why didn’t Albert depart immediately for Ireland after he’d stabbed his wife? Why did he take the time to visit the house in Epping?”

“I assume there were things he wanted from Epping that he hadn’t been able to get from Mary in London.”

Mrs. Frogerton considered her. “Things Mary had given Jude to take to Epping for him, or things to hide from him?”

“That’s the real question, ma’am. We should have asked Miss Smith whether Albert took anything from Jude’s trunk when he visited.”

“Perhaps you might write her a note and ask? I can have it delivered tonight. The messenger can wait for her reply and bring it straight back to us,” Mrs. Frogerton suggested. “Is there anything else we should ask her?”