was likely something of a comforting refuge for women who had been cast out by their employers.
Sandra cleared her throat, as if gathering courage to speak; it was a habit Maisie had noticed and thought might diminish as she gained confidence. She imagined her waiting until the last minute to ask a question following a lecture at college.
“Mrs. Paige, had you noticed any change in the women in the days before Miss Pramal was murdered? Did one or both of them seem more, well, morose? Unhappy? Or even sunnier than usual?”
“I didn’t see them as much as you might think, Mrs. Tapley. The women went out in the morning, to work; they came back in the evening or the afternoon—if they were in early, the time was their own. They had jobs around the house here, and at night we had our supper and some Bible study—and I’m a busy woman, I can’t go looking at the women, wondering what they’re thinking.” She began pleating the fabric of her dress again. “But I remember saying to Mr. Paige—must have been a month before Miss Pramal died—that she didn’t seem very happy, and we put it down to one of her jobs. And as for Miss Patel, she hadn’t been herself since the murder, which is understandable.”
“Could you tell us about the job that you think caused Miss Pramal’s unhappiness?” said Maisie.
“We put an advertisement in the paper every now and again, so we have cleaning and household jobs lined up for the women, and there was an inquiry from a housekeeper over in St. John’s Wood, needing a bit of extra help for a short period of time—it was for spring cleaning, not last year, but the year before. Miss Pramal went over there, and I don’t think she liked it much. I put it down to the journey, but on the other hand, our women can’t expect to get their jobs around the corner. All the same, she stayed on there for a good while—not a regular day every week, but as and when needed. I asked Miss Patel about it, if Miss Pramal was unhappy, and she said it was the sick woman at the house making it awkward. Well, you know how they can be about sickness—very funny, to my mind. No wonder there’s all them Indian students at St. Thomas’ Hospital, learning to be doctors, I mean, they’ve got to take proper medical practices back over there, haven’t they? What with putting their bodies in the Ganges River to float off to heaven—thank the Lord we were able to bring the Bible to our ladies.”
Maisie glanced at Sandra. Mrs. Paige had been more forthcoming than at any other time.
“Do you have the name of the customer, Mrs. Paige?” asked Maisie.
“I can check in my books.”
“While you’re doing that, might we have a quick look in Miss Patel’s room again, and Miss Pramal’s quarters, too?”
“You might as well—you’ll have to take yourself up there, though. I’ll have to trust you.”
Maisie and Sandra made their way up the stairs.
“You know who the customer is, don’t you, Miss?” said Sandra.
“I’m quite sure I do, because I spoke to the sick woman’s nurse. I had to inquire further of Mrs. Paige—it wouldn’t seem right if I hadn’t asked the question. Here we are, this is Maya Patel’s room.”
Maisie opened the door, and for a moment the two women did not move, but stood on the threshold looking in.
“It’s as if no one ever lived here,” said Sandra. “I mean, there’s things, bits and pieces, but there’s no feeling of her, is there?” She stepped into the room, though Maisie did not follow. “A room should tell you something about a person, shouldn’t it? I think this room tells me that Maya Patel tried hard to make things comfortable for herself. She wanted things soft—and from what I saw of that woman downstairs, and the way she worked these ayahs, it was far from restful here.”
Maisie could see that there was little more to be gleaned from a search of Maya Patel’s room—the Indian woman had taken any confidences shared, any secrets told, and kept them to herself. Now only supposition would draw back the veil on the motive for her murder—unless she found the killer and a confession revealed why her life was taken. Closing the door, Maisie pointed to the staircase, and they made their way up to Usha Pramal’s attic room.
Following Maisie into the room, Sandra picked up