Murder Most Convenient: A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery by Robert Colton

“I did myself.”
      “Where did you get it from?”
      “It was always in the room,” I told him.
      “When I arrived, it was back on the table,” he told me.
      “Yes, by reflex, Henderson picked it up and replaced it.”
      The inspector asked, “Was he wearing gloves?”
      I thought about the question for a moment. “Yes, why?”
      “There were a few fingerprints on the item, I suspect yours. Otherwise, it was quite clean.”
      “Of course my fingerprints will be on the thing,” I retorted.
      “What about matches?” he asked.
      “Yes, Lucy had set out a little box of matches for me to use.”
       “I saw no box of matches on the table last night.”
      I thought about it for a moment; they were also missing from the table. “Yes, I don’t remember them being on the table as I reached about.”
       Rhetorically, he asked, “Who has them now?” then he looked to me and asked, “Were they in a large box or a small box?”
      Yes, this would be an excellent clue. “A small box; it was from the Hotel Cote d’ Azur. They had been in Lucy’s luggage since our trip to Monte Carlo.”
      He smiled at me, pleased with my handy piece of information. “Had there been any tension in the house during your stay?”
      “Nothing but. My husband’s family are not what I would call happy people,” I told him.
      “And Miss Masterson?”
      “She was a queer individual. I have to admit, she frightened me at first. Because of her gaunt figure and the way she held her injured arm, she seemed rather sinister. As I got to know her, though, my opinion changed.”
      The inspector asked, “How did she interact with the Staytons?”
      “Ruth was very devoted to her. Nicholas was...respectful, friendly. I think Randolph may have spoken to her, some. Joan ignored her for the most part, or rather, they ignored each other.”
      “How did she get on with the servants?” he asked.
       When Phyllis wanted a cigarette lit, she had relied on Ruth or Nicholas. She rarely spoke to Henderson or the maids, and she’d indicated she thought little of the chauffeur. “She treated them like nameless domestic help, neither politely nor rudely.”
       He made a note in his book. “Right. You’ve had time to think about it now. Tell me, has it occurred to you why she had that letter inside her cigarette case at the ready to give to you?”
       I answered too quickly. “No.”
       He peered at me suspiciously and asked, “Did the two of you discuss the novel she quoted from?”
      “At luncheon with the vicar’s wife, she saw the book and quoted from it.”
      “The same quote?” he asked.
      “No, though it was rather dark as well. In a word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew was right, as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong. She had said that several of the passages of the book had spoken to her.”
      The inspector wrote down what I told him. Once his pencil was done moving, I said, “I can assure you that I had no reason to murder poor Phyllis.”
      The handsome man met my gaze and said, “Last night, I had the impression that your in-laws would like for me to think otherwise.”

Chapter Nine
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    After checking in with Lucy, I hid myself in the butler’s pantry once more.
      I could hear Ruth speaking after I was settled with my ear against the door. “No, Randolph and Joan were away at the time. I heard her scream and went running to see what had happened.”
      “And what had happened?” asked the inspector.
      “She’d lost her footing and tumbled down the stairs. I can’t tell you how frightened I was,” Ruth replied.
      “This was four years ago, you said; before that, how long had she been your secretary?”
      Ruth must have been calculating, as it took her a moment to reply. “Four years.”
      “How did she come to you?” he asked.
      “She had worked for my husband’s company.