Read Online The Sword-Edged blonde by Alex Bledsoe - Free Book Online Page B

left out of your report? I know it might seem inconsequential, but you never know what might be crucial.”
    He stared straight ahead, resolutely formal. “I’m aware of that, sir. My report is as thorough as I can make it. I wrote down everything I observed. The questions you’ve asked me here are more matters of interpretation.”
    “True. And you’ve been invaluable, thank you.”
    “Will that be all, sir?”
    “Mostly. Except . . . do
you
think the queen did it?”
    “ ‘Think,’ sir? I’m a soldier. I don’t think.”
    “You must have an opinion.”
    “As do we all, along with a certain orifice.”
    Vogel clearly was not going to commit himself; perhaps he had done just that at some point in the past, which explained why he was still a mere sergeant. “Yes. Well. Thank you again. And please keep this conversation just between us for the time being.”
    “Of course, sir.” He bowed and left with the same precision he’d arrived.
    I looked down at the bloodstain on the stone. I knelt and ran my finger across it, then smelled my fingertips. It was blood, all right. Something had died in this room. But that was the only thing that might truly be what it seemed.
     
    N URSEMAID BETH MAXWELL was a cheery, round young woman who would no doubt make a good mother herself, should she ever run across a man whose tastes ran to acres of rolling white flesh. She wore a neat, spotless uniform and a little cap over her tight brown curls, and looked up at me with guileless eyes. Phil let me use his office for these interviews, which conveyed a lot more authority than I’d command on my own.
    “I appreciate you seein’ me on such short notice,” I said, exaggerating my country accent so she’d feel less threatened. “Just want to ask you a coupla things ’bout that night in the nursery.”
    She shuddered at the memory. “I’ll never forget a thing from that night.”
    “That’s what I’m hopin’. When the queen came in from the dinner party, did she seem upset or anything?”
    “No, just the opposite. She seemed almost
silly
. I assumed she’d overindulged a bit on wine during dinner, although that wasn’t like her, especially since Diri was born—that was our nickname for the prince, you know. The king called him P.D., but he was our little Diri.” She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “But she certainly didn’t seem depressed.”
    “Did you say anything to her?”
    “Just reported that Diri had spent a quiet evening, and had only just begun to fuss because he was hungry.”
    “Fuss?”
    “Yes, you know how babies are.”
    “Not really.”
    “Oh. Well, their little tummies know when things are supposed to happen, and if they don’t get fed right on time, they let you know they’re not happy about it.”
    “So she was late, then?”
    She thought for a moment. “A bit, I guess. No more than a few minutes.”
    I thanked her and showed her out. I was starting to get an idea, but I tried not to dwell on it until I had more information. I wanted the theory to fit the facts, not the other way around. I made some quick notes and stared at the battle scene painted on the ceiling until the next timid knock on the door.
     
    T HE MAID SALLY Sween was way too pretty to work in a bachelor household. Had she been in service backwhen Phil and I were teenagers, I shudder to think of the lengths to which we’d have gone to win her favors. As it was, her exquisite face was puffy with fear-spawned tears, since being summoned to the king’s office was almost never a good thing.
    “Would you like a drink?” I asked. Her uniform worked hard to control her décolletage, which distracted me more than I wanted to admit. She shook her head. I poured myself one. She crossed enviable legs as she waited.
    Finally I said, “You stated that when you first checked on the queen and the baby, she was asleep in the rocking chair, right?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Was the baby asleep?”
    She blinked.