If Susan could have spit bullets at that very moment she would have, and they would have all been aimed at Matt. But the accusation took the air out of her sails. “You’ve really done your homework.” She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and took a quick glance at the bedroom door. Her hand had developed a slight tremor and her disposition had transitioned to someone who was clearly uncomfortable. “No one ever questioned it until now. I was careful to ensure it stayed hidden.”
“I’m sure you did. And it probably would have remained uncovered except for the murder of Sir Reginald.”
She peered at the bedroom door again then back at him. “What clued you in?”
“An overly attentive, Isabella. Even when the boy was in your company. Quite unusually so, I thought, for someone who was an aunt. And that piqued my interest,” Matt replied. “You and she travelled to…Venice, I believe it was? Was that where she gave birth?”
“No. We travelled to Bern. It had all been prearranged. But I assume you already know that.”
He didn’t but pretended he did. It was who prearranged it that held the greater interest to him. “I knew you went to Bern for the delivery, but I didn’t know that it had been prearranged. Though in afterthought I’m not surprised. Who prearranged it?”
“The big man himself, Sir Reginald…my daddy. He didn’t want his reputation tarnished by his wayward, unmarried, and only sister Bella. Especially if it came out that she copulated…tut-tut… with hired help.”
“My guess is that the father is Mark Dale,” Matt replied.
Susan nodded. “A good piece of detective work. You’re spot on!”
Matt noticed that she glared at Philip with those remarks and that her cheeks were flushed. “Help me understand how the cover up worked.”
“The scheme was hatched after my husband, Stuart, was killed in a car accident. That was about a week after Bella told my daddy that she was pregnant. Stuart’s death as it turned out was quite timely…from daddy’s point of view.” Tears formed at the corner of her eyes and she pulled a hanky from the sleeve of her blouse
“Am I hearing what I think you’re saying? It wasn’t an accident? Susan, I’ve read his autopsy report,” Matt replied. “He had a blood alcohol level well above the limit.”
She shifted her head to one side and dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief and stared at him with a sardonic smile. “Stuart was a confirmed teetotaler. It had something to do with his father; but that is neither here nor there. What does matter is what the autopsy did not say, don’t you think?”
“Did anyone question it?”
“Of course! I did! Vehemently! To that man sitting beside you.”
“I led an extensive enquiry into the case after your acquisition. You read the final report,” Philip retorted.
“They were all my daddy’s cronies you interviewed, Mister Deputy Commissioner. Though at that time you were an Inspector.”
Philip looked at her sharply. “What are you implying?” he rejoined indignantly.
Susan glanced at the bedroom door again then back at him. “I’ll leave that to your imagination.” And crossed her arms tightly across her chest.
“Susan!” Matt waited for her attention. “Who killed Archibald Hendley and my constable?”
“How should I know!”
“Weren’t you in the kitchen when it happened?!”
“Heavens no!”
“In the report I have, it said that you and your son went to the kitchen,” Philip said. “Is it wrong?”
“No…But only briefly. It’s the route we often take on our way to the rear of the mansion and the backstairs to our rooms. Hunting mousse was what Alan called it. Chocolate mousse.” The smile on her face came and went in a flash.
“And…did he find some?” Philip asked.
“Oh, yes. The kitchen staff always makes a daily batch. Exactly six cups are always left in the fridge for him. Today, he was extra lucky. He even got a box of his favorite cookies, oatmeal chocolate chip.”
Why exactly six? Matt mused to himself and dismissed it as not pertinent. “So, you saw no one in the kitchen?” Matt asked.
“Clean as a whistle! Staff had a couple hours off before supper preparation. So, no, I saw no one.”
Matt peered at the box on the table near the entrance. “Is that the box that Isobella took from you earlier?”
“Yes,” Susan replied, lighting another cigarette.
“How did it end up here? In your room,” Matt continued, “since one of my constables helped to load it into the limo.”
“Second thoughts on the part of Alan. He scampered out the side-door of the kitchen and flagged them down to retrieve it.”
“Hmm…Why?” Matt asked, scratching his head. “There was obviously some sort of plan in play to relocate it or destroy the contents.”
Susan shrugged. “There are lots of secrets Alan and Bella don’t share with me. I guess this is one of them. You’ll have to ask her.”
“May we talk to Alan?” Philip asked.
“Not without a lawyer,” Susan replied, in a tone that dared him to try.
“May we at least examine the contents of the box?” Matt enquired.
She glanced at her wrist watch. “I think you should wait until the lawyer arrives. He should be here within the half hour.”
“I see.” Matt did not like this twist of events and he could tell when he glanced at Philip, neither did he. Now on the clock, he searched through his battery of questions to find the one with the sharpest punch. The one question that just might glean the greatest information without her feeling she’s about to be cuffed. “Are you familiar with the plant Monkshood?” Matt asked.
Susan flicked ash from her cigarette into the ashtray and sat back. “I’ve…heard the name. Why do you ask?”