Murder on Charles Street - Leighann Dobbs Page 0,36

needed more answers, and she wouldn’t find them by sympathizing with the old woman. If Mrs. Campbell seemed determined not to let her into the house, she must learn as much as she could on the stoop. Stamping her feet to keep her circulation, Katherine asked, “When did you find him? After you had washed the dishes and put them away?”

The corners of Mrs. Campbell’s mouth turned down, the lines deepening. “I didn’t wash any dishes. I found him first thing, and the moment I did, I panicked and ran into the street for help.”

So someone else had been in the house. “But he ate. There were crumbs on his shirt and marmalade at the corners of his mouth—”

“What are you nattering on about? There isn’t any marmalade in the house…” She looked at Katherine as though Katherine was on her way to Bedlam.

“Perhaps not marmalade, then. The filling from a pie or something similar.”

Mrs. Campbell shook her head. “Nothing like that. The poor old dear had his brandy and… Fell asleep. He didn’t suffer.”

How could Mrs. Campbell possibly know that? It was a platitude, something to which she clung in this time of grief. Katherine didn’t want to dash her hopes, though poison was often very painful. “If I’m honest, I’m not certain that Dr. Gammon died of natural causes. I saw him only the night before, and he seemed in perfect health.”

Mrs. Campbell took a step inside. Katherine pressed the advantage, following until she stood in the mouth of the doorway. It was every bit as cold here as it was on the stoop, but at least she didn’t feel so exposed.

“You must be mistaken. He was an old man…”

Katherine refused to admit, even to Mrs. Campbell, that she might be wrong. Lyle had mentioned the scent of almonds—and the poison that might cause the smell. Katherine must find the truth, one way or another.

“At the moment, I have only my suspicions. But didn’t he seem to you as if something bothered him?”

Mrs. Campbell hesitated. “I suppose he was acting out of sorts, but I couldn’t tell you why.”

“I think I know why. When I visited that night, he mentioned some notes. It’s very important that I look through his notes so I know what it was that put him so ill at ease.”

For a moment, she thought Mrs. Campbell would deny her outright. Hesitation lingered on the older woman’s face for a hair too long before the resistance in her expression faded. “I’ll help in any way I can. I liked Dr. Gammon a great deal. He was perhaps the best man for whom I ever worked. Sometimes, he let me help with his herbs and such. However, I cannot let you inside now, my lady.”

Katherine narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

“Mr. Gammon is due to arrive at any moment to catalogue his father’s belongings. He won’t be happy if he finds you in here. In fact, he’s already mentioned to me not to let you in, since he found you searching the study yesterday.”

Katherine wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t destined to get her answers today, after all. Stifling a sigh, she took a short step back out onto the stoop. “Thank you, in any case.”

As she turned to leave, Mrs. Campbell called, “My lady? If you’ll wait, come back after Mr. Gammon his left this evening. I’ll let you look around. But you must come in through the back door.”

Katherine smiled. “I’ll return later, then. Through the kitchen.”

As she returned to her house, the day looked suddenly brighter. She might find the answers for which she searched after all.

Chapter Eleven

Since Lord Penhurst’s exhibition began shortly before dinner, Katherine was not likely to return to the townhouse until after the meal. Although Harriet had promised to prepare a generous supper upon her return, Katherine had never been more relieved to find footmen in neat blue-and-white livery circulating Lord Penhurst’s drawing room with plates of food. Her stomach gurgled, a sound hopefully drowned by the guests chattering in knots.

Lord Penhurst’s quiet affair contained no less than twelve people already, and Katherine suspected that more were due to arrive before the exhibition began in earnest. After greeting the host, a hefty man in his forties with thick glasses and close-cropped hair, Katherine escaped into the room. The other guests, scholars, were absorbed with the artifacts on display at intervals around the perimeter of the room, their velvet-covered pedestals standing out from the wood-paneled walls.

Katherine navigated the mouth-watering aroma of cumin