“I don’t want to see the doctor.” He lifted the blanket to his chest and frowned a pitiful, childlike frown. “Why can’t they just leave me in peace?”

Diane smiled weakly and gestured for the two officers to have a seat on the antique sofa. Theo sank deep into the cushions. “Daddy’s ninety-two this year. He’s getting a bit cantankerous in his old age.” She sat and flattened her brown wool skirt in front of her. “So what would you like to tell me about Doc?”

Theo was about to reply when the housekeeper entered the room and placed her hands on her hips. Diane asked, “Would you like tea?”

“Um,” Theo started, sitting forward. He didn’t think he would be here long enough for a cup of tea, but after the long drive, he felt like one. “That sounds—”

“Yes,” interrupted Diane, “bring us tea.” She waved the housekeeper away.

“So, you’ve come to tell me Doc has died,” she continued as if she were telling the officers she had bought a car or that she had discovered a new flavor of coffee.

“Has someone contacted you?” asked Dorland.

She shrugged. “Why else would you be here to talk about my brother? How did he die?”

“Someone stabbed him,” Dorland replied.

“I see.” She blinked. After staring at them for a while, she asked, “Well, who did it?”

“We don’t have any idea,” Dorland said.

“We were hoping,” said Theo, “you had information that could help us. Can you think of anyone who might have a motive?”

“A motive?” She sat back against the sofa and put her fist to her mouth. “A motive?”

“Yes, a reason why someone might want to kill him.”

“Yes, I do know what it means, officer. It’s a difficult question to answer. You see, I haven’t seen him in ages, and the last time I saw him, I wanted to kill him.”

“Oh?” said Theo. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Oh, at least ten years ago. I know it sounds shocking that I would want to kill my brother, but you see, he was such an . . . unusual person. I come from a family of seven children and he was the youngest. In this day and age, the youngest is often spoiled; however, in our household, that didn’t happen. Poor Doc. I suppose I can understand why he was the way he was.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother really shouldn’t have had any children—she epitomized the word selfish, you see—but, she somehow ended up with seven. The first six turned out well because we were all girls and took care of each other. However, gin and tonic became her best friend by the time Doc, her first boy, came along, and she couldn’t feign caring any more. In short order, he became the property of various young nannies.”

“Why did you want to kill him?”

“Well, I don’t think I really would have killed him, not really. Typical brother and sister angst: we would pull down his trousers and knock him round a bit. In return, he would pull our hair or tattle on us. Silly things really. We gave him a difficult time but eventually he got us all back. We’d find our favorite frocks shredded and hanging from the trees in the garden. Or he’d put coloring in our hand cream. I told him I’d kill him if I ever saw him again because he put itching powder on all my clothes before I had an important business trip to Europe—I had an important interview. I ended up getting the job, but I was so angry. I moved to Spain shortly after and . . .” She shook her head. “We weren’t really close.”

“What about your other sisters? Were any of them close?”

“I don’t think so. Patty married a Canadian and moved to Canada, Carolyn’s in Italy with her husband. My sisters Beatrice and Yvonne live in London, but as far as I know, they don’t have contact with him. And my sister Roberta, she died, ten years back now. Sadly, if anyone knew him, it would be the nannies. He always felt closer to staff than to his family.”

“Do you think he still has contact with them?”

“The staff? No. I don’t remember the name of any of my nannies. And if I did, it would be only their first names. I don’t know where my mother found them. They weren’t much older than we were. Anyway, Doc moved out of the house and down to London when he was seventeen. I think my father kicked him out of the house.”

“Why was that?”

“Possibly because my father expected Doc to take over the family’s steel business. He chose instead to get into trade—an electrician or something like that. It was inevitable though, Doc was determined to become the opposite of whatever my father wanted him to become.”

“Where’s the doctor?” Henry called out. “I will not see the doctor.”

Diane turned to him and yelled, “Dad, the police have come to tell me Maddock is dead.”

Henry didn’t reply.

“Did you know your brother was missing a leg?” asked Theo.

“Yes, I knew.”

“Do you know what happened to it?”

“It happened at work. He was installing wiring and scaffolding gave way. He only sustained a gash in his leg but then the cut got infected and had to be amputated.”

“That’s too bad,” replied Theo.

Diane only shrugged.

“We found some pieces of art in his home, tiled art. Has he always been an artist?” asked Theo.

“Artist?” She laughed. “Not that I’m aware of. All anyone in this house expected of Doc was for him to get a good education and take over the family business.”

“So then, who took over the business when your father stopped working?” Dorland asked. He rose from the sofa and began to peer at the figurines on the mantle place.

“My cousin Earnest. And he actually took the company to new heights, expanded the business. Now the company is international, we have companies using our steel products in Italy, France, and Norway, and of course China.”

“And Doc didn’t feel the company should have come to him?”

“I’m not sure he cared. Honestly, I’m not sure anything really bothered or worried him. He hid his emotions well.” Suddenly, she sat forward. “I have been going through the attic, cleaning it out. There are sixteen rooms in this house and we only occupy two. I was thinking of opening a bed and breakfast. We have some horses and I was thinking of stocking the pond again.”

She looked at them blankly for a moment before she remembered what she wanted to say. “Anyway, I found some albums. There were some photos of Doc, would you like to see them? Yes, come, come.” She stood up and walked from the room.

Theo and Dorland quickly chased after her. In the hall, the housekeeper met them with a tray.

“Take the tea into the library,” Diane instructed her. The housekeeper complied, and Diane led the officers down the hall and into the large dining room. The walls and furniture were a mahogany color and the table sat at least twelve. Dorland stopped by one of the chairs and leaned down to examine a place setting.

“These are very beautiful. They must be very old,” Dorland remarked. He ran his finger across the face of the plate and then rubbed his fingers together. “And there’s no dust.”

“This is a very beautiful dining room,” Theo agreed.

“Yes, my mother loved this room. She once gave grand dinner parties in this room. All us girls couldn’t wait until we were of age and could attend those parties. The dresses we wore.” Diane looked up at the ceiling and pursed her lips together. “Oh yes, those parties.”

“Did Doc ever attend those parties?”

She squinted. “I don’t recall. I know as a child he would sneak into the room and hide under the table. Why? No one knows. He would lift up the women’s dresses or tickle their legs and run out of the room. Eventually my mother had to lock him in his room during parties. We don’t eat in here anymore. It’s just my father and I now. Come, I want to show you those albums.”

The opulent library shelves were filled floor to ceiling with books and priceless antique tomes. Very different from Doc’s drawing room. She motioned them to the Empire chairs that flanked an English Regency table in the center of the room. On the table in front of them lay five cloth-covered albums. She pulled the third album from the pile and slowly flipped through the delicate pages. Theo examined the black and white photographs that covered the black pages beneath.