The Red Door

“I was outside, I’d taken my tea outside this morning. I—I wanted to walk a little.”

“It was misting here? Raining?”

“A soft mist. I don’t mind that. It was cooler after a string of warm days.” She broke down again.

Rutledge turned to Amy Teller. “I was in the study, looking for a book. I’d finished the one I’d been reading last night. I was the first to reach Peter. They may have told you. He was still alive, and he said my name. And then he died. It was awful. I think I screamed for Susannah.”

“Where was she?”

“I believe she’d already come down and was in the dining room. She appeared from that direction, anyway.”

Her husband looked up at Rutledge, his face grim, his eyes red. “I was in my room. Like Mary, a few seconds more and I’d have been with him. I might have saved him from falling. I can’t seem to get that out of my mind.”

Rutledge waited for Walter Teller to give his whereabouts. He didn’t turn. Finally he said, his voice muffled, “I was in the drawing room. I wanted to be by myself.”

And so no one had been on the scene. Or at least no one admitted to it.

He nodded to Mary Brittingham, and she rose, saying to Jenny, “Come on, love, you’ll be better off lying down.”

Jenny shook her head. “I won’t go up those stairs. I don’t think I ever shall again.”

“Then we’ll use the back stairs,” Mary told her.

Jenny said, rising from her chair, “I’m to blame. I told Walter I wanted to have a party, as I did last year. With everyone here. If I hadn’t, Peter would still be in London this morning, and not dead.”

“Don’t be silly,” her husband said roughly from the window. “Accidents happen. He could have fallen down his own stairs, for that matter. He was drunk enough last night.”

She looked at him, hurt clear in her face. And then without answering him, she turned and walked from the dining room. Mary followed her.

The covered dishes of the family breakfast were still on the sideboard. Rutledge could smell the bacon and see a dish of boiled eggs. Used plates had been set on the small table to one side. By his account, four of the family had already eaten their breakfast. It fit with their statements.

When Jenny was well out of hearing, Rutledge said, “Your sister-in-law has just told me that Peter Teller was shunned all weekend. Miss Teller, did either you or Mary say anything to the family about the evidence against Captain Teller?”

“I told Edwin. You had already spoken to Walter. I imagine Amy learned of it from Edwin. It was Jenny’s birthday, and we had agreed not to upset her. She’d been through enough, and it would make for a very unpleasant party. As it was, we were all struggling to put up a good front. In the end even Jenny felt the tension and wanted to know what was wrong. We all lied through our teeth. It might have been better if we’d told her the truth and been done with it. Peter was moody, he could read between the lines. Walter hardly spoke to him. Edwin was not himself either. He hadn’t been since he came back from that woman’s funeral—”

“Florence Teller. She had a name,” Edwin said sharply. “Use it.”

Leticia closed her mouth firmly and stared at him.

Edwin said, “Oh, to hell with it. Inspector Rutledge, when can we leave? It will be better for everyone if we just go home and stop pretending.”

“I don’t know. We’ll need statements from all of you, telling me where you were, and what if anything was said, what your reading was of Captain Teller’s state of mind.”

Amy said, “You aren’t suggesting it was suicide—” She broke off.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Walter said from the window. “I don’t think Peter had that much sense.”

Rutledge cut across Amy Teller’s retort. “It might interest you to know that the Captain’s wife—widow—has just told me that she feels he was murdered.”

There was a sharply indrawn breath from the people looking up at him. A collective reaction to his suggestion.

“She’s upset,” Walter said.

Edwin added, “I don’t think she knows what she’s talking about.” Leticia said, “Yes, she does. She doesn’t see this as a blessing in disguise, that Peter—and the rest of us—will be spared the nightmare of a trial. It doesn’t matter how it ends—in full acquittal or a conviction. The damage will have been done.”

Amy said, “That’s an awful thing to say. No one is rejoicing.”

Leticia crossed the room and poured herself another cup of tea.

“It’s time we all faced some very unpleasant facts. And one of them is that Jenny will have to face them as well. We can’t go on lying to her. It’s not fair to Peter or his wife.”

“Oh, do shut up, Leticia,” Walter Teller told her. “I’ll deal with Jenny in my own way.”

“If we could have thrashed this business out amongst ourselves on Friday, none of this might have happened,” Leticia retorted. “And what about Harry? What is Harry to be told?”

There was a strained silence.

“Harry,” Walter began. “Oh, my God, we’ve forgotten Harry.”