Miss Brown's heart just about leapt out of her chest as she heard others entering the library. There was a murderer about, after all, and nobody knew who it was, not even the authorities who were so lost they were asking for civilian help. She came out from the stacks to see who it was, and nodded a greeting to the ladies who'd joined her, and felt a little more at ease. Sociologically it was reverse sexism, of course, that she would feel it was less likely the killer was a woman but the easing of her tension could also be explained by there being multiple people in the room. With more than two present, she felt certain she was safe.
"Not the evening any of us had been expecting," she commented, being one of those unfortunates who suffered from what was called pressure of speech. "Does anyone else think it's strange the detective would ask us, the most likely suspects, to assist with the investigation? I mean, say one of us is the killer, wouldn't it give us ample time to do away with evidence and further conceal our actions? And it's not like I know anyone well enough to speculate on motive and the killer certainly wouldn't share any information that might lead one of us to that conclusion. Though I suppose I should be grateful they're handling it this way and not dragging us down to the station. I've never been in a police station but I imagine it's much less comfortable than the mansion though knowing such a gruesome crime has occurred here certainly takes away from the charm."
It was fortunate for the others in the room that she seemed to run out of breath as she stopped in front of the fireplace, frowning as she noted the position of the accessories around it. Mr. Grey was always very precise, especially in the library. Mentally she began to run down the list of the other guests, trying to decide upon first impression who seemed most capable of such an act and also considered the rooms and which one would have been most expedient to committing a murder.