Miss Larson met us at the door. "Miss Southhall said to let you in." The housekeeper greeted us. "And to stay out of your way."
Lestrade frowned. "And it doesn't matter to you why you're to let us in?" He asked sharply.
Miss Larson shrugged. "It has something to do with the older Mr. Southhall's murder." She replied matter-of-factly. "The younger Mr. Southhall has already said that we are to accommodate you in every way possible."
Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "Even if it means us searching private rooms while Miss Southhall keeps her father and Mr. Watson away and unaware of our visit?"
Miss Larson met his gaze without flinching. "The innocent parties have nothing to fear." She replied. "The guilty needs to be caught." She looked over at me, then.
"Is he trying to talk me out of letting you in?" She asked me, slightly amused.
I smiled at the woman. "He wants to be sure you realize what you're doing by letting us in." I assurred her.
Miss Larson returned the smile briefly. "I would do what I can to help you find the murderer even without Miss Southhall's approval." She informed us. "Come in."
She disappeared almost immediately, and I led Lestrade up the stairs and down the hall to the two rooms in question. "I'll take Mr. Watson's room." I said. "Mr. Southhall's room is there." I pointed.
Lestrade nodded, and we got to work.
I did not find anything. I went over Mr. Watson's room from top to bottom and found absolutely nothing. I only hoped that Lestrade was having better luck than I was.
On second thought, if he were having better luck it meant that Miss Southhall's father was guilty. For some reason the thought bothered me more than it should have.
Lestrade appeared out of nowhere, grabbed me by the arm and began hauling me from the room. I quelled the impulse to demand to know what was going on and what he was doing. Generally when Lestrade resorted to manhandling his fellow Inspectors, he had a reason for it.
"Miss Southhall's room?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper. I pointed, and Lestrade immediately darted towards the only room left-the late Mr. Southhall's bedroom. I followed without hesitation.
"The body was here?" He asked, pointing. His voice was once again at its normal volume. I was not entirely sure what was going on, but went along with it anyway.
"The head was here." I moved to demonstrate. "The feet here."
"He was lying face downward." Lestrade continued, and I heard the footsteps on the stairs. I had not heard the family return home. He knelt to examine the stain from the pool of blood.
Lestrade looked up innocently as Southhall and Watson paused in the door. "Who is this?" Watson demanded sharply.
"Inspector Lestrade." Lestrade answered without standing. "Inspector Bradstreet asked for a second opinion. I asked to see where the murder took place." He explained.
"Miss Jacobs said you were searching our rooms." Watson accused, and I winced. Lestrade merely raised an eyebrow. "What were you looking for?"
"The murder weapon." Lestrade replied evenly. "Is that a problem?"
"Certainly not." Southhall assured him. "We are entirely at your disposal, Inspectors."
Lestrade went back to examining the room, but asked no more questions. I retreated back into the doorway where I would be out of the way, but Southhall and Watson seemed less inclined to stay clear of Lestrade as he quietly went over every inch of the room.
Or tried to. The two men were still in the room, hovering, and having a hard time staying out of Lestrade's way. He did not say anything, but I could see that the two were getting on his nerves, especially when Watson started asking questions.
"Have you searched all the other rooms?" Watson asked curiously. "We weren't gone that long."
Lestrade fought back a groan and replied. "Every room but Miss Southhall's. Bradstreet was just going to check it out, with your permission, Mr. Southhall."
Southall nodded. "Certainly."
I realized Lestrade was trying to get rid of me. Well, them, actually. He was hoping they would go with me. I tried to look uncertain.
"You want me to search Miss Southhall's room?" I asked. "Is that appropriate?"
Lestrade shot me a look. "Murder is hardly appropriate, Bradstreet."
Watson took the bait and chuckled. "Come on, Inspector, and we'll brave the young lady's room together." He raised his eyebrows towards Southhall. "With your permission of course, sir."
Southhall nodded. "Go ahead."
I led the way. At least I had gotten Watson out of Lestrade's way. Southhall would probably end up pretending to be a murder victim if he did not remove himself from Lestrade's way soon.
I searched the room again, knowing that I would find nothing. I still went through the drawers of her dresser, through the closet, under the bed-
And stared at what I saw back in the corner, nearly hidden from sight. "Lestrade!" I called, digging through my pockets and cursing myself for not having a handkerchief on me. "Lestrade!"
"What is it?" Watson asked, suddenly worried. I heard footsteps entering the room behind me and called over my shoulder,
"Do you have a handkerchief, Lestrade?" I held my hand out and felt a folded handkerchief pressed into it. "Thank you." I shook it out and reached forward to wrap it around the knife. I crawled out from under the bed and held my prize out to Lestrade.
"Didn't bother to clean it off." He commented, taking the knife and handkerchief and examining the blood smeared weapon. "Go get Miss Southhall and ask if this is hers."
I nodded numbly and took off, leaving Watson and Southhall still staring. I found Miss Southhall in the sitting room.
"Can you join us upstairs please, Miss Southall?" I asked her, the words sounding hollow.
She rose and followed me up the stairs without a word. I led her back into her room where Lestrade held the knife out to her. "Is this yours?" He asked.
She paled, but nodded, causing an outburst from both of the men in the room.
"She would never-"
"How could you-?"
"Quiet." Lestrade said sharply, turning back to Miss Southhall when the two men fell silent. "You told Inspector Bradstreet that your knife has been missing since two days before the murder. Do you want to reconsider that?"
She met his eyes and shook her head, and my brain started working again.
"It wasn't there before." I told Lestrade. "The knife. When I searched her room yesterday it wasn't there."
Watson and Southhall blinked, but Lestrade merely waited. "I wouldn't have missed it." I insisted.
"So it was planted." Lestrade sounded skeptical.
"It had to be." I said. Lestrade shook his head, handed the knife back to me, and went back to the murdered man's room without comment.
Miss Southhall looked at me uncertainly. I offered her a reassuring smile. "We'll find who did this."
"Be careful not to let a pretty face cloud your judgment." Watson muttered under his breath as he excused himself.
Mr. Southhall shook his head wearily and followed Watson. Miss Southhall watched him go with wide eyes.
"He thinks I killed him." She said softly. "My own father thinks I killed my uncle."
"Somebody tried to frame you." I said, and she turned to stare at me.
"You think it was him?" She demanded.
"I don't know." I admitted. "But I know it wasn't you. The knife wasn't there before."
"Your Inspector friend doesn't believe that." She challenged.
I shook my head. I knew better than that. "We'll find whoever did this." I promised.
Miss Southhall smiled at me. "Thanks." She whispered.
I found myself smiling back at her.
