The Dead Songbird (The Northminster Mysteries) by Harriet Smart

understand he is her manager?”
    “Yes, he is, but sometimes, well, she is unmanageable. Sometimes there is no telling her. She does not see it. She just sees a charming gentleman who admires and understands her work. She does not see... well, I think you know what I mean, Major Vernon.”
    He nodded and asked, “So who is in the household here? Which of the servants came with you from town?”
    “Berthe, our maid, and Hannah, who is Harry’s nurse.”
    “And they have been in your service how long?”
    “Hannah has been with Harry since he was born and Berthe has been with Mrs Morgan before she married, I think. She used to be her dresser at the theatre.”
    “And who came with the house?”
    “There is a cook and and a kitchen maid, two housemaids and an outdoor man who is a queer sort of fellow, but he does keep the garden well. But they are difficult to deal with, I must confess.”
    “In what way?”
    “They look down on us. It is really obvious. And I think they are used to a lavish way of living, and will expect outrageous tips, no doubt. I would not put it past them to have put that horrible thing there.” She gave a shudder. “I think you had better question them all, Major Vernon. I think you should soon get the truth out of them.”
    “I shall question them, certainly. But first, Mrs Ridolfi, you could explain everything that happened that night. You dined alone?”
    “I ate with Harry and then put him to bed.”
    “You don’t recall asking one of the servants to go in there and make up the fire? Or warm the bed?”
    “No,” she said. “I did not order a fire for the bedroom. We are not so extravagant.”
    “And Mrs Morgan’s maid did not attend you at bedtime?”
    “No, Mrs Morgan and I were the only ones still up. I had sent Berthe to bed earlier. She had a headache.”
    “When was that?”
    “Some time after my sister-in-law left for the rehearsal. I found her frowning over some sewing. It is a sure sign of a migraine so I sent her to bed with a compress. I think she slept. You must ask her.”
    “And where is Berthe’s bedroom?”
    “Upstairs. We gave her one of the better rooms as she is so dear and useful to us. Mrs Morgan and I decided we would share the large bedchamber down here. I have to confess I do not like to sleep alone and it seemed most convenient that way. And warmer too,” she added. “It is so cold here.”
    “Mr Carswell found the front door unlocked. Can you account for that?”
    “It should have been locked. My sister-in-law was supposed to lock it when she came in, but she did not. She came straight in and went up to the drawing room. She must have forgotten to bolt it.”
    “And you were in the drawing room?”
    “No, I sat in here after I had put Harry to bed. The drawing room was too cold for me last night.”
    “And so she did not come up to you until it was bedtime?”
    “No, she did her piano practice – as she does most evenings.”
    “For how long?”
    “She usually does two hours. It was about ten when she came up and we began to get ready for bed.”
    “And you went first into the bedroom and found the bird there?”
    “Yes.”
    “And the last time you went into the room it was not there? When was that?”
    “Some time in the afternoon. I can’t say when – but I went in to get an extra wrap.”
    “And you noticed nothing amiss then?”
    She shook her head.
    “Thank you for your help, Mrs Ridolfi.”
    ***
    “I did not like her implication about Mrs Morgan and Lord Rothborough,” Carswell said, as they went downstairs again.
    “It is perfectly understandable in the circumstances,” Giles said.
    “It is hardly loyal.”
    “Sisters-in-law do not have to be loyal,” said Giles. He stopped in the hall and looked about him. “So someone could have slipped in, gone upstairs and put that bird there without anyone hearing them, especially if she was playing the piano loudly.”
    “Yes.”
    “It is all very odd. You say she was not