“I didn’t add anything to the glass of water,” Lillian blurted out. “I simply handed it to Miss Helen, I assure you.” In the early-morning hours, she’d been tired and confused, but certainly not enough to accidentally add something to the glass. Someone else had done that, and left it waiting for an unsuspecting person to administer.
“Maybe the nurse made a mistake and left a second dose out,” said Miss Helen.
“Then why would she come to me?” answered Mr. Childs. “She wouldn’t have to say anything and we would be none the wiser. No. She suspected someone did so intentionally. And because of that, I’ve asked a private detective to join us.” He rose and went to the door, calling down the hall for Kearns. “Tell Mr. DeWitt we are ready for him.”
“How dare you, Childs?” said Miss Helen. “You went with us to bury Papsie, knowing all the time that you would challenge the will with this false accusation. What if the bulk of the money had come to you, would you have simply sent this detective person away?”
“I’m simply trying to get to the bottom of what happened the night Father died.”
“It’s terrible enough, Childs,” said his mother, a handkerchief clenched to her mouth, muffling the words. “How could you?”
The private detective—a slight man with a pink turned-up nose—entered, and Mr. Childs addressed the family’s attorney with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if he were a mere chimney sweep. “We are done with your services for now, Mr. Smith.” As the attorney scurried out clutching his stack of papers, the private detective surveyed the room’s interior. Lillian imagined him calculating the total cost of the artwork, furniture, and drapes, estimating how much he could make off the Frick family’s squabbles.
Her first impulse was to run. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but how easy would it be for Mr. Childs to say that she’d been in cahoots with Miss Helen?
She tried to shake off the shock at this strange turn of events, to think clearly. Anyone in the family might have wanted to kill Mr. Frick. As ludicrous as it sounded, even Miss Helen—if she’d known that her father was planning on changing his will—had motive. But if he had no intention of updating his will, Mr. Childs had every reason to see his father dead in a suspicious manner, one that would clear the way for Mr. Childs to contest the will or, even better, have Miss Helen blamed for the death and stripped of her inheritance. To be perfectly honest, even Mrs. Frick, who had endured years of teasing and disaffection from her husband, might have wanted to free herself of his torment. But while the family was certainly not the happiest of clans, would one of them really be capable of such a deadly act?
Mr. DeWitt spoke. “I understand that there is some discrepancy regarding the death of Mr. Frick. I’ve already interviewed the nurse who was on duty that night, per Mr. Childs’s instructions. She has informed me that it appears that Mr. Frick was given a second, deadly dose of sleeping medicine. I’ve also been told that there is another possible crime surrounding his death. That a cameo containing a valuable gem was stolen from his coffin a week prior. Is that right?”
Miss Helen nodded. “Yes. I placed it in his hand myself, and then it was gone.” Her gaze turned to Lillian. The one person, other than Miss Helen, who had been present on both occasions.
Would Miss Helen have it in her to set Lillian up to take the fall for her father’s murder?
Lillian stared back at her, terrified.
“I understand you and your private secretary”—Mr. DeWitt consulted a small leather-bound notebook—“a Miss Lillian Carter, were present in both instances.”
“Yes, we were,” Miss Helen said uneasily, as if she didn’t quite believe it.
“And you”—he turned to Lillian—“are the private secretary?”
“I am.”
He addressed the wider group. “Is there any reason Miss Lillian would want to see Mr. Frick dead?”
A chill settled over the room. Miss Helen’s lips moved, but no sound came out at first. Lillian could practically see Miss Helen’s mind spinning to find an explanation, wanting to deflect blame. And Lillian made the perfect target.
She finally broke the silence with a low murmur that only Lillian understood. “The payment.”
“I’m sorry, what?” said Mr. DeWitt.
“My father had a secret arrangement with Miss Lilly, that she would get a sum of money upon my engagement. When I found out about it, I tore up the check.”