Mrs. Dittman’s room was on the ground floor at the rear of the hotel. She didn’t wait for Murdoch but led the way down the hall, unlocked her door and went in, leaving him to follow. It was an airy room, elegantly furnished, and by the look of it one of the more expensive apartments in the hotel.
“Please take a seat, Mr., er, what was your name again?”
“Murdoch, ma’am. Detective William Murdoch.”
She went over to the windows and began to draw the curtains.
“I find the sunlight hard on my eyes. I hope you don’t mind,” she said.
He made a noncommittal nod, noting as the curtains closed that the French doors opened onto a small patio and a wide lawn. Easy to come and go unseen.
“Do you have other servants, ma’am?”
“Not travelling with me, if that’s what you mean. I have a housekeeper and a groom back in New York. Don’t tell me you want to question them as well?”
Murdoch smiled benignly. “Not at all, ma’am. I was only inquiring because Mrs. Cooke reported a strange visitor the night her husband died. Her butler hadn’t seen him before but thought the man was a negro.”
“Really? Surely Toronto isn’t so devoid of coloured people that every negro is related to every other? Just because I employ a negress doesn’t mean I am responsible for all the darkies in the city. Both my housekeeper and groom are of Irish stock, by the way. I took in Faith when she was a young woman, and she has been as reliable as her name. Ah, here she is.”
The door opened and a coloured woman entered. She was neatly dressed, middle-aged, medium height, and rather stout. She was carrying a tray with a silver coffee pot and china on it.
“I thought you’d like your coffee. Mr. Oatley mentioned that you didn’t take any in the dining room.”
She had a rather harsh accent that Murdoch had heard before from New Yorkers. She glanced over at Murdoch. “I didn’t know you had a visitor, madam. Shall I fetch an extra cup?”
“No, thank you, please don’t bother,” Murdoch said quickly.
“This is Mr. Murdoch, Faith. He’s a local detective and he wants to ask you some questions.”
“Really, madam? Concerning what?”
“Last week you tried to hire a carriage for me from one of the local stables.”
“Ah, yes, I remember, madam. Tuesday it was. We wanted one for the next day, but they weren’t available. Is there something wrong?”
Murdoch answered. “The proprietor of that particular livery has died under suspicious circumstances and I am investigating the case, Miss…?” He waited for one of them to fill in the maid’s surname but neither did. “I understand that you had a conversation with the stable hand who was in the barn at the time? His name is Green.”
Faith studied him with her dark eyes, but she didn’t answer immediately. She poured out some coffee for her mistress first and handed it to her.
“Bring my medicine, will you, Faith? I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Murdoch. I am supposed to take it at a regular time. Go on talking, though, you have our attention.”
He might have their attention, thought Murdoch, but he didn’t have control of the situation. Mrs. Dittman was very much in command. He waited while the maid went to the table at the side of the bed and returned with a brown bottle. She poured some of the contents into her mistress’s coffee. Murdoch thought the drink looked like brandy, but that could be considered medicine, he supposed.
“Do you recall the man I am referring to?”
Faith addressed him without looking at him.
“It is rather vague in my mind, but I believe I do. I never knew his name, but if you’re talking about a coloured man, big build, soft spoke, it must be this Green cove.”
“It was a wet night on Tuesday. I wonder why you didn’t make use of the hotel telephone for your inquiry.”
Mrs. Dittman answered, “Faith is frequently confined indoors because of my state of health. She needed some fresh air.”
“It wasn’t raining hard when I went,” added the maid. “I ain’t, pardon me, I isn’t made of sugar.”
“According to Mr. Green, you also asked after one of the local ministers. A Reverend Archer. Is he an acquaintance of yours?”
“I have never met the man. But somebody at my own church told me about him. I hear he’s a powerful good preacher. I likes a lively sermon so I thought I’d introduce myself.”
“Faith is quite a devout Baptist, aren’t you, dear?”
“Just one more question then, ma’am. Did you notice anybody else on the street near the livery? Anybody at all?”
Faith pursed her lips, thinking. “No, can’t say I did. There might have been somebody, but I didn’t pay no mind.”
Murdoch closed his notebook. “Thank you so much for your help.”
He stood up.
“Show the gentleman out, will you, Faith? Thank you, Mr. Murdoch. You have livened up a rather dreary day.”
“I’m glad to hear it. It must be disappointing to visit a strange city and not be able to get around as you must have hoped.”
He was being deliberately disingenuous, but she wasn’t in the least put out.
“Yes, it is. But we are planning to hire a Bath chair and Faith will wheel me. I am eager to see the cathedrals, in particular. After all, Toronto is the city of spires, is it not? Unfortunately, the weather has been against us, until now.”
The maid was standing at the door, holding it open for Murdoch.
“Good afternoon to you then, ma’am.”
Mrs. Dittman bowed her head graciously while Faith stared straight ahead.
She’d answered readily enough, but he thought it odd that she’d shown no curiosity about his questions. Usually people were agog to hear lurid details of deaths. It might be because she was a servant and didn’t feel she had the right to ask. On the other hand, her mistress hadn’t inquired either.
Inside the room, Mrs. Dittman added some more brandy from the brown bottle into her coffee cup.
“Do you want some, Fiddie?”
“I won’t say no to that. My nerves are fair frayed. I didn’t expect no detective to be sitting here jawing with you.”
“I had no way to warn you but you were quite superb. Bernhardt herself couldn’t have done better.”
She poured them each a full glass of brandy.
“Oh be joyful,” said Mrs. Dittman.
Faith laughed. “You got me out of an awkward spot there when he asked why we hadn’t used the telephone. But butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.” She imitated Mrs. Dittman’s softer voice. “Toronto is the city of spires, is it not? Where’d you hear that?”
“I read it in the guidebook. Do you know there are one hundred and seventy-two churches in Toronto now.”
“And most of them dull as dishwater, I’ll wager.”
Mrs. Dittman smiled. “Seriously, Fiddie, the detective struck me as a shrewd man.”
“Not if he’s a policeman, he ain’t.”
“He did have nice manners.”
“Phony. Besides he didn’t have nice manners to me.”
“I thought he treated us the same.”
Faith hooted. “You might think so, but I can tell the difference. ‘Yes, ma’am, no ma’am, to you, yes, miss, no miss to me.’”
“I don’t think so…Oh never mind, it’s not worth arguing about.”
“If he’s as clever as you say, shall we fly the coop then?”
“No, of course not. We haven’t finished our task yet. When that’s done, we’ll go.”
“Are you up to it?”
For an answer, Mrs. Dittman beckoned her maid to sit beside her on the couch. “By myself, no. But with you beside me, my rod and my staff, I am invincible and have always been so.”
Faith laughed out loud. “You and your fancy talk. You never stop, do you? Here, lie back and put your feet up on my lap and I’ll rub them for you. I can tell you’ve been in pain today.”
“Pour some more brandy and it will all be forgotten. Besides, I have eaten the sweet meat of revenge and that has soothed my pain.”
“There you go again.”