Death at Balfefield Abbey

Chapter 21, Cashelroe, 1903

Keating began his examination of the bathroom and its grisly occupant, moving slowly and deliberately. To Sullivan's surprise, he didn't go straight to the body. Instead, he started by scrutinizing the other items in the room. He leaned in close to inspect the washbasin, removing his spectacles to examine the taps and porcelain. Next, he cautiously lifted the toilet seat with a handkerchief, peering into the bowl before lowering it again. He then checked the wall cabinets and their contents, followed by the folded towels, which he sniffed and felt for dampness.

There was a second door on the other side of the bathroom. Keating opened this and Sullivan saw it gave access to a bedroom similar in size but decorated in a more feminine style than the one they had been brought to by the footman.

Constable O'Neill's attention was so absorbed in the actions of the inspector, he did not object, or even seem to notice, when Sullivan stepped fully into the room to improve her view.

A decorative cut glass decanter was placed on a wooden stool near the head of the bath. From the color of the liquid, Sullivan guessed it contained brandy. Beside it was a matching glass that had been upset, and its contents spilled.

Keating walked towards the bath, delicately stepping over blood pools, and bent down to inspect, but did not touch or otherwise disturb a straight razor, with an ivory handle, that lay open on the tiled floor, in a small puddle of blood.

Finally, he approached the bath, hunkered down, and examined Captain Darley's neck. Sullivan recalled the gruesome images of Arabella Darley's body, projected by Doctor Scott onto a white sheet during the Coroner's Inquest. She shuddered, seeing that Darley's throat had been cut in a similar fashion. The brutal, gaping wound before her was far more horrifying than the monochrome photos had suggested.

The dead man's right arm lay perched on the side of the tub. Once again, Sullivan noticed Keating using his handkerchief to avoid direct contact as he grasped the thumb and tried to lift the arm. It wouldn't budge due to rigor mortis. He inspected the fingers, hand, and arm. Later, at the Coroner's Inquest, she would hear him testify he was looking for evidence of defensive wounds.

Sullivan stepped out of the bathroom when she saw Keating straighten up and walk back towards the bedroom, where he turned to the constable and said: "The doctor has been summoned, along with a photographer. Make sure no one else enters the room until they have finished."

Miranda Darley had stopped crying. Her attention, like that of Sullivan's and the constable's, had become absorbed by the inspector's examination of the bathroom. Albert had returned with a glass of whiskey, but she had taken barely a sip. Keating took a chair from the dressing table and sat down in front of her.

"Who found him?" he asked.

"I did. I came to his room shortly before seven this morning. I saw him lying in the bath, just the way you see him now. All that blood. I could see right away he was dead."

"Then what did you do?"

"I don't know, I remember being frightened, thinking whoever killed Arabella must have gotten back into the house and could still be in hiding here, somewhere, but then I noticed the razor."

"Did you touch anything?"

"I don't think so. I felt weak, almost got sick, and sat here for a moment. It was the shock of it. Seeing him like that. I remember running downstairs calling for Kate. I told her to get the stable boy to run to the town and summon the police. At the time, I didn't know if you were still around. I expected the sergeant, but instead, it was the constable who arrived."

"The sergeant's been busy on account of what happened in the hotel last night," interjected the constable. "I was instructed to alert you, Inspector, and then get up here as quickly as possible to secure the area."

"Was it usual for you to wake him?" asked Keating, turning back to the housekeeper. "I thought that would be the job of the footman."

"Albert normally brings him breakfast around ten, however, ever since the death of Arabella, I have been very concerned about his wellbeing and made it my routine to look in upon him as soon as I rise each morning. I've sometimes found he hadn't gone to bed at all but remained drinking in his study until he became unconscious. This morning I found his bed had not been disturbed and was about to go downstairs to look for him when I saw his bathroom door was ajar. I entered the room and found him.... Like this."

"Did he often take a bath in the evenings?"

"Usually he bathed in the morning, but in recent weeks he didn't keep to any set regime, other than his drinking, that is. Sometimes he took a bath in the morning, sometimes in the evening, sometimes not at all."

"Who else, besides, you and the captain, were here, in the house, last night?"

"No one, only the servants."

"They being?"

"Albert, Mrs. O'Brien, and Kate."

Keating had been leaning in close to the housekeeper, but now he sat back in his chair and asked her: "It's been brought to my attention that your name is in fact Miranda Darley and you are a stepsister to the deceased. Would you care to explain?"

Albert let out a surprised little gasp.

Miranda Darley looked up at the inspector and held his gaze for a moment. If she was perturbed by the question it did not show on her face.

"I came to work for my brother, at his invitation, because I'd reached a point in my life where I was no longer considered young and was without marital prospects or finances. We thought it best the servants didn't know of this, that they would take to me better if they thought I was just another employee, which indeed, I am. So, I went under my mother's maiden name. I was never married. The 'Mrs.' is an affectation, one adopted by many housekeepers."

"Did Mrs. Darley know you were her husband's sister?"

"Yes, of course. It was only kept secret from the servants, and only for practical purposes. If you think this is somehow relevant, I can assure you it is not."

"You said earlier that when you found the body, you were frightened a killer might be lurking somewhere in the house, that is until you saw the razor. What did you mean?"

"Is it not obvious? When I saw the razor, I realized he had done it to himself. The death of my brother is surely a case of suicide, Inspector, not murder."