Free Superfluous Women by Carola Dunn

household.”
    â€œThey are not my harem, Inspector,” Alec said dryly, “if that’s what you’re wondering.”
    â€œThe thought never crossed my mind, sir!”
    â€œGlad to hear it. My wife came down to Beaconsfield to convalesce. She was at school with Miss Chandler—I take it Harris managed to give you all the names correctly? I spelled them out for him.”
    â€œEr, no.” Underwood sighed. “He said a mob of spinsters was known to reside in the house but they’d cleared out before he arrived. I’m sorry your wife was subject to such a terrible experience, sir, ’specially if she’s been ill. Harris didn’t mention her, and wasn’t able to give me any of the names except yours.”
    â€œNever mind,” said Alec, tolerant of the failings of subordinates for whose mistakes he was not responsible. “The sergeant was in pretty poor shape after the shock.”
    The inspector’s snort made a change from his sighs. “Mrs. Fletcher.” The name went into his notebook. “Miss Chandler, was it, sir?”
    â€œMiss Wilhelmina Chandler. Miss Vera Leighton. Miss Isabel Sutcliffe.”
    â€œThank you, sir. Miss Chandler was at school with Mrs. Fletcher. They’re not elderly spinsters, then. Some of these ‘surplus women’ like they talk about in the papers, they’d be?”
    â€œThey wouldn’t appreciate the epithet, but yes, I believe that’s a fair enough description.”
    â€œNewcomers to the district, Harris said.”
    â€œAs to that, I know only what my wife has told me. You won’t want thirdhand information. You’ll have to ask them.”
    â€œFair enough. Had you ever met any of them before?”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œNot even Mrs. Fletcher’s schoolfellow? At your wedding, for instance?”
    â€œWe had a quiet wedding, just family. Miss Chandler may have been invited to the reception, I don’t know. If so, I’m pretty sure she didn’t attend. She lived up north, after all, and not in affluent circumstances, and wasn’t especially close to Daisy. It’s possible she came and I somehow missed meeting her.”
    â€œYou’ll have a good memory for names and faces, no doubt, in our business.”
    â€œI do. However, I can’t say my mind was running on those lines at the time. Are you a married man, Inspector?”
    â€œWidower. Lost my wife in the flu.”
    â€œSo did I. My first wife.”
    After a silent moment of mutual commiseration, an unexpected grin lit Underwood’s dour face. “I’ll be blamed if I can remember a thing about our wedding breakfast. Right, Mrs. Fletcher’s convalescing in Beaconsfield, and she calls on her friend, very natural, even if they weren’t close. And you, sir?”
    â€œI came down to see Daisy and to drive her back to town after a pleasant weekend in the country.”
    â€œNo such luck, eh? Your good lady was eager to introduce you to her friends, I expect.”
    â€œRather the reverse.”
    â€œOh? Why was that?”
    Alec was half amused, half irritated to have his own techniques used against him. “Look,” he said, “I’ll tell you what happened and what I observed. For opinions, wishes, hopes, reasons, you must apply to those concerned. The ladies at Cherry Trees invited my wife and me to Sunday lunch. We reached the house some time between half past twelve and one o’clock.”
    â€œYou can’t be more precise?”
    â€œNo. Miss Sutcliffe was busy in the kitchen. They keep no cook. Miss Chandler and Miss Leighton invited us into the sitting room. We were offered sherry. One of them—Miss Chandler, I think but couldn’t swear to—apologised for its mediocre quality. One or the other mentioned that the previous owners were reputed to have owned an excellent wine cellar. The ladies had speculated that when it was cleared