Chapter 5

The car drew to a stop and Watson hurried out the door, holding it open for Dashiell and Regina. He then led them into the house.

“What was in the autobiography?” Regina asked.

“I am sure I would not know,” Watson replied.

Regina stopped in her tracks and gave Watson a look. “Come now, Mr. Watson. You might not know the particulars, but you’ve been working here how long? You must have some idea.”

Watson looked uncomfortable. “Please, Detective. You must understand. There are certain standards someone in my profession has to respect. If word were to get out that I was speaking out of turn…”

Dashiell held up a restraining hand. “Mr. Watson, from the sounds of things, if you are correct, this manuscript is probably at the center of it. We understand your position, but if you want us to catch whoever did this, we need some idea of who would gain from your employer’s death.”

Watson pursed his lips momentarily, looking for a moment as if he wouldn’t answer. But then his shoulders sagged. “Very well. In any woman of wealth’s life, there are bound to be skeletons in the closet. But of course, Mrs. Scofield was not born to wealth. Mr. Thomas Scofield shocked his family when he chose to marry her instead of another member of the upper classes.

“Since she was not raised to this world, she had more…’history’ than other women who typically inhabit the role Mrs. Scofield inhabited. From what little I heard of her discussions, she was being quite candid in the book. It did not appear that she was holding anything back.”

“And who knew about this book?” Regina asked.

“Quite a few people. The family all knew of course. And the publisher. And then members of the press. That is why Washington Woman was coming to interview her. It was a teaser interview and photo shoot to promote the book. It was to be the first of several such interviews, so it appeared that many in the media knew it was forthcoming.”

“And was she just candid about her past?”

“I am not sure what you mean, Detective Robbins.”

“Was she candid about the members of the family?” Regina pressed. “Some of them might not be too thrilled to see their dirty laundry aired for the world to see. If even a quarter of the rumors about some of the children are true, well, that’s a motive for murder right there.”

Somewhere in the middle of the interrogation, the group had resumed walking. Suddenly, they stopped outside a set of thick oaken doors with large brass handles.

“Inside is Mrs. Scofield, just as I found her. So far as I know, the only people to set foot in this room today are Mrs. Scofield, myself and the reporter and photographer. I have left the body as undisturbed as possible.”

Dashiell nodded. “Very well then. Let’s go in. Time’s a wasting.”

At this prompt, Watson threw open the door.

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