"Ms. Fulford, where were you between the hours of 11:30 and 12:00 the night before last?" Clayton asked Anna, the Chase family maid.
"In my bed, I'd imagine sir. I'm not much of a night owl, you see,"
"Is there anyone who can verify your claim?"
Anna smiled slightly, "Perhaps. But a lady never tells,"
Clayton's eyebrows rose, "Ms. Fulford, you do realize the gravity of this situation? Your life could be on the line,"
"Could it? Do you suspect me of murder, Mr. Attwood?"
"I am merely exploring all my options,"
Anna was silent for a few minutes, cold and calculating. "I was with Mr. Chase,"
"Robert?" Clayton asked, confused.
"Not that night. That night I was with Dallas. He was visiting from the West End, so I thought we would have some fun,"
"I see,"
~*~
"Mr. Chase, were you or were you not with Ms. Fulford the evening of your brother's death between the hours of 11:30pm and 12:00pm?"
Dallas's face turned beet red and he started to trip over his words.
"Calm yourself, Mr. Chase. A yes or no will do,"
"Yes, I was. B-b-but it's not what you think! Anna c-came to me and said she wanted to t-talk,"
"That's not what she implied," Clayton's brow furrowed.
"She said she wanted to t-talk about my father's w-will,"
"Really?" Dallas nodded fervently.
"And was this all she wanted?" Clayton continued, once again receiving a nod from Dallas.
"I see. Thank you for coming in. You may go now," As Dallas left he bumped into the inspector, who was in a fit of anger.
"Attwood! Someone drank my bloody brandy!"
"Really?" Clayton asked, rather uninterested.
"Yes, really! Who would do such a thing? What am I expected to do without my brandy?!" Pith bellowed.
"Drink tea?" Inspector Pith gave him a crippling frown.
"Jacobs!" He yelled down the corridor. Timothy burst in, panting.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want you to go down to the store, and get me another bottle of brandy. Here's a pound. Off with you,"
The two left, leaving Clayton to ponder his case. Two bullets, two murders, two wills. Which suspect was telling the truth?