“I cooked, waited on de table, tended de fires and de garden, cleaned de house, an’ run errands,” ended Oscar with a flourish, and Penfield had difficulty in suppressing a smile. Oscar’s rheumatic legs did not suggest an agile errand boy.
“Who were the other servants?”
“Weren’t none,” tersely. “Miss Baird, she wouldn’t keep no yeller help, so Mandy, my wife, washed de clothes, an’ I done de rest.”
“Did you and Mandy sleep in Miss Baird’s house?”
“No, Sah. We lives in our own house, two blocks away.”
“What were your working hours?”
“Hey?” Oscar stroked his wooly head reflectively. “’Most all day,” he volunteered finally. “Mandy had one o’ her spells yesterday mawnin’ an’ I had ter get a doctah fo’ her, an’ that’s why I never reached Miss Baird’s ’til ’bout noon.”
“I see.” Penfield sat back in his chair and fumbled with his watch charm. Oscar as a witness was a disappointment, whatever his accomplishments as an all-round servant. “At what hour did you leave Miss Baird’s on Sunday?”
“’Bout half-past two,” answered Oscar, after due thought.
“And whom did you leave in the house?”