She went on. “It certainly does me. When we got here Wednesday morning, I went to my room on 19th Street and brought a bag of clothes. I had nothing with me in the country because Mr. Prescott took me right up there from the shop. Then after the funeral he read the will to us and all this mess started. So we all stayed here Thursday night and again last night. I’ve been sleeping in that room with Celia.” She pointed to the second door on the left. “And this afternoon I noticed my camera was gone. Somebody stole it.”
“Or maybe borrowed it.”
“No, I’ve asked everyone, including the servants. Besides, they went through my bag too, messed it all up, and took two rolls of film.”
“Maybe a servant did it. She wouldn’t admit it when you asked, you know. Very few people have a confession complex like you. Or maybe Aunt Daisy is a kleptomaniac as well as an eavesdropper.”
“How do you know she’s an eavesdropper?”
“I’ve seen her at work.”
“Have you? I never have. Andy says if my camera was stolen it must have been by a member of the family and the best thing I can do is keep my mouth shut about it.”
“That sounds sensible. If it ever comes to a vote, my ballot goes to Aunt Daisy. Were the two rolls of film — Ah, company’s coming.”
It was a dick I didn’t know, looking stern and important. He came up to us.
“Archie Goodwin? Inspector Cramer wants you downstairs.”