by V. M. Burns
“Please, let me know if you require any additional help with cooking or serving.”
Mrs. Ridley thought for a moment. “I can handle the cooking, and with a small family, Elsie and I can handle the dusting and housework, but Elsie’s never served ladies. Maybe we might want to consider . . .”
Thompkins nodded. “I can handle tea, but if His Grace decides to host a formal dinner, we will need to enlist additional help.”
“Right you are.”
“I assume you’ve heard that someone was murdered at Bletchley Park.”
“I heard. It’s a small village and news travels fast. Errol tells me they believe it was some type of accident.”
“Did Errol know the young man?”
“He did. Errol thinks it might have been a joke. He says those young men are always playing jokes on each other. He thinks that was just a joke gone bad and the ones that did it are too afraid to come forward.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe there’s anything to worry about at The Park.”
Thompkins stared at her. “Do you feel there’s danger elsewhere in Buckinghamshire?”
Mrs. Ridley took a long drink of tea. “There’s definitely some strange things going on around the Shoulder of Mutton. Ethel is a cook there, and she’s seen strange lights at night. Doors she knows were locked tight before bed are unlocked and sometimes even wide open the next day.” She stared at the butler. “Something odd is going on at the Shoulder, that’s for certain.”
Thompkins stared. “Odd indeed.”
“Marguerite, thanks for meeting me,” Lady Clara said as she and Marguerite strolled through St. James’s Park.
“I have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you.”
Something in her friend’s voice made Clara halt. “I know I was only supposed to reach out for an emergency, but . . . I was desperate.”
“I’m sorry.” Marguerite stopped and guided her friend toward a bench. “What’s happened?”
Lady Clara pulled herself together. “There’s been another murder. This time, we think the intended victim was Peter.”
“Your policeman?”
Clara nodded.
Marguerite squeezed her friend’s hand. “Do you think it’s some crazy lunatic with a grudge against Scotland Yard?”
“Not likely. Besides, he’s been reassigned to Buckinghamshire.”
Marguerite stared at her friend. “Really? That’s interesting.”
“And you can stop being mysterious. I know the truth about Bletchley Park. In fact, I’m going to be working there.”
“That’s a relief. It’s hard keeping secrets. It’s so much easier when you can talk openly, but . . . that’s just not possible right now. How can I help?”
“Was there anything Oliver said to you that might help us figure out who killed him?”
“Not that I remember.” She paused and thought. “I’ve been working on remembering things as part of my special training. I might as well put it into practice.” She closed her eyes and sat perfectly still. “I’m visualizing the room and taking myself back to that night. We talked about his family and his job. He used to be a physics major at Cambridge until his father died.” Her eyes popped open. “Oh dear, I completely forgot.”
“What? Oh, Marguerite, if there’s anything, no matter how small . . . please. I’m so worried.”
“He’d been telling me that he’d only been a policeman for a few months. He was a physics major, but then his father died. He mentioned his father had a bad heart. His grandfather, uncle . . . it ran in the family. That’s why I didn’t think anything about his sudden death.”
“But you’ve remembered something?”
“I don’t know if it’ll be any good, but he recognized someone who was at the party. He couldn’t remember where, so he was distracted. While we were talking, he remembered, and he said he had to go. He was very agitated.”
“Did he say what he remembered? Or who?”
She shook her head. “No, but whatever it was, I could tell that it was important.”
“It must have been someone he knew from Cambridge.” Clara hopped up. “That narrows things down a bit. Who was at the embassy that also attended Cambridge?” She paced. “Billy Cavendish, John Cairncross, and Donald Maclean.”
“But I don’t see how any of them could have killed him. They were nowhere near him when he collapsed.”
Lady Clara plopped back down on the bench. “It had to be poison, but how? No one came near the food. As much as I dislike the American ambassador, I doubt if he’s trying to poison his guests, unless it was intended for Billy Cavendish.”
“If it wasn’t the food, then . . .” Marguerite stopped and stared at Lady Clara.
The two women came to the same conclusion at the same time.
“The champagne.”
The revelation hit me at the same time as the characters I’d been writing about. “Poison.”
I grabbed my phone and hurried downstairs. That’s where I found Emma. The store was closed, but she sat at the bistro table munching on cookies and reading Strange Practice, a medical mystery by Vivian Shaw.
Emma looked up. “This is amazing. There are literally mysteries about just about everything. This woman is a doctor who specializes in treating vampires, werewolves, and—What’s wrong?”
“I know who killed John Cloverton.” I held up a finger. “I have two things I need to confirm. I just want to make sure.” I dialed the phone. “Jenna, how did John Cloverton die?” I nodded. “That’s what I thought you said. I just wanted to be sure.” I hung up, not waiting for her questions. I dialed my second number. “Detective Pitt, did you say Mildred used to be a pharmacy technician before you got married? . . . I thought so. Can you meet me down at the police station? I know who killed John Cloverton. . . . Okay, I’ll wait here for you.” I hung up.
Emma put down her book and leaned forward anxiously. “You figured out who the killer was?”
“Yes, I think so, but I need to get down to the police station and—” I looked up and found myself staring into the barrel of a very large gun.
Chapter 22
“What are you doing?” I asked. “How did you get in here?”
“It was simple. I just told that big oaf of a football player that I had some valuable information about the murder.”
I looked around. “Where is he? What have you done with Dawson?”
“He’s taking a nap . . . for now. After I take care of you and Brad, then I’ll finish him off.”
“What did you hit him with?” I took several steps forward, but she pressed the gun into my chest. The crazed look on her face stopped me in my tracks.
“I had you figured for a dud, but I thought I should stick close by, just in case. What gave me away?”
I found it hard to think while staring down the barrel of a gun, but I knew I needed to keep her talking. “Detective Pitt kept saying you were jealous, and he kept calling you crazy, and my mind couldn’t accept that anyone would be jealous of him.”
She snorted. “I was never jealous of that slob, but John . . . he was special, and he made me feel special.” She frowned. “That was until that tart thought she’d take him away from me. I could handle all of the other women. John tired of them quickly, but little Miss Chastity thought she could take him away from me.” She laughed. “John thought he could trick me and the two of them could just skip town and run away together, but I fixed him. I’ll take care of the tramp as soon as I finish with you.”
“What will you do to her?” Emma asked. I was a bit more concerned with what Mildred planned to do with us, but anything to keep her talking was good.
“I mixed up a little special concoction and put it in her face cream. She’s been absorbing it into her skin, and it’s slowly making her insane. Eventually, she’ll kill herself from the grief... at least that’s what everyone will think.”
“Detective Pitt mentioned that you used to work at a pharmacy,” I said. “Then I remembered w
hen you told us that your husband was killed, you said he’d been poisoned. How did you know that? The police hadn’t released that your husband had been poisoned before he was shot. My sister didn’t even tell me until I called to confirm. The police like to withhold certain details in every murder.”
She smiled. “Did anyone else make the connection? That old busybody, for example?”
I shook my head. “Nana Jo hasn’t guessed. I’m the only one. Please . . .” I squeezed Emma’s hand. “Let us go. I promise we won’t say anything. You can leave . . . go to another country. No one will ever find you. Please—”
“Leave? Why should I leave? I’m not the one who cheated on my marriage vows. Not this time anyway.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Out of curiosity, what was it you saw in my curio cabinet that you found so fascinating?”
“Sharon Carpenter has a gambling problem. According to the sheet you got from the Pontolomas, she owes the Four Feathers casino five thousand dollars.”
She shrugged. “So what?”
“The S.T. Dupont silver lighter in your curio cabinet is unique and worth more than five thousand dollars. Even if a pawnshop only gave her half of what it’s worth, she wouldn’t have to continue pilfering her husband’s family heirlooms. The items that her mother-in-law saw her giving to you were worth a lot more than five thousand dollars. If you were truly intent on helping her, then she should have been able to pay off her debts, but you weren’t helping her. You were stealing from her.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “You are so right, but how else could I get the dirt I needed on Mayor Carpenter?”
“Why was it so important to you?”
“If John was going to be mayor, I had to stir things up. This town would never have elected an Indian for mayor.” She scowled. “Vipers. Heathens and vipers. That’s what they are.”
If I hadn’t already figured out that she was crazy, this confirmed it. Her eyes were wild, and she waved her gun around. I frantically searched my mind to figure out how to get Emma and me out of this. The only thing I could think about was to keep her talking until someone came. What was taking Detective Pitt so long to get here? “How long have you been tapping Detective Pitt’s phone?”
She gave me a slightly crazed look of respect. “How’d you know about that?”
“You got here too fast. You had to be tapping one of us.”
“I’ve been listening in on Brad’s calls for weeks. I heard him and John talking. John wanted to have me committed to an asylum, and he wanted Brad’s help. That’s why Brad showed up to arrest him, the fool. John owed a lot in parking violations. When I heard them, I knew I needed to make them pay. They were both working against me, but I fixed them. I killed John and arranged it so Brad would get the blame. It was perfect. I knew Brad kept a gun in his nightstand. He always followed the same routine, night after night. Come home. Go to the bar and drink for an hour and then home to watch television.” She smirked. “It was so easy to sneak in there and get his gun. He always keeps a bottle of water by his bed. Routine. I just put a mild tranquilizer in the bottle, and he was out like a light. After I killed John, I put the gun back where I’d gotten it.”
“Millie, put the gun down.” Detective Pitt had come in through the back door. “It’s over.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s not over. I’m the one with the gun. I hold all the cards. Now, you go over there.” She used the gun to indicate she wanted him standing next to me.
Detective Pitt held up his hands and moved slowly over next to Emma and me. “You can’t get away with this.”
She gave a maniacal laugh. “But I can. I’ve been poisoning that tart Chastity. She’s going to find a large lapse in her memory where she can’t remember what she’s done. She’s going to wake up here, covered in blood with this gun . . . John’s gun in her hand. If they don’t hang her, she might just take her own life. Either way is fine with me.”
“Chastity won’t come here,” I said. “She doesn’t trust you.”
“She doesn’t need to trust me. She just needs to trust you. Didn’t I mention that you left a message for her asking her to come by your store?”
We all heard the bell on the door at the same time and turned. I was about to scream for help when Mildred took the gun and pointed it at Emma, and I froze. Fortunately, Detective Pitt didn’t.
“Hit the ground,” he yelled as he lunged for Mildred.
Detective Pitt and Mildred wrestled for the gun.
“Call the police,” I yelled to Chastity. She hesitated a split second and then hurried out of the bookshop.
“You too,” I yelled at Emma. “Go get Frank.”
I could tell she didn’t want to leave me, but she took off.
I looked around for a weapon. The only thing close at hand was a broom. I grabbed it and cracked it across my leg to get the bristle end off. I planted my feet and held the stick like a bat. I thought of Dawson and anger welled up inside me, and I knew I could easily bash Mildred’s skull to smithereens.
I heard the sirens, and the front door flew open.
There was a loud explosion as the gun fired.
Frank flew through the back door. He saw that I was okay and then reached down and grabbed Mildred’s hands. She still held on to the gun, and he twisted until she screamed. The gun fell to the floor, and he held her down.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, but I don’t think Detective Pitt is.”
A puddle of blood poured out of his stomach, and he went completely white. His eyes rolled into his head, and he passed out.
Chapter 23
“Call for an ambulance,” Frank said.
The police burst through the front door with their guns drawn. Frank quickly filled them in while I ran to my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.
Emma pushed her way through the crowd. When they tried to hold her back, she yelled, “I’m a medical student.”
She dropped to her knees and felt for a pulse. “He’s still alive, but his pulse is weak, and he’s losing a lot of blood.” She looked around. “I need some towels.”
Frank went to the bistro and grabbed all the tea towels he could find.
Emma pressed the towels into the wound. “Hold these down. Apply as much pressure as you can.”
Frank did as he was told.
Emma turned to one of the officers. “Give me your belt.”
The officer quickly removed his belt and passed it to her.
Frank must have anticipated what she wanted, because he said, “You’re not going to be able to lift him. Let me.”
She nodded. “On three. One . . . two . . . three,” she quickly counted. She handed him the belt and took over applying pressure to the wound.
Frank raised Detective Pitt and slid the belt around his chest. “Is this okay?”
Emma looked up and nodded. “Pull it as tight as you can.”
Frank pulled the belt ends together as tightly as he could and buckled them.
The ambulance screeched to a stop in front of the building, and two EMTs ran in.
Frank backed away while Emma and the EMTs worked on Detective Pitt.
“Dawson!” I said, and ran through the back of the store.
He was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. I dropped to my knees and pulled him into a tight hug.
When I went back inside the store, my entire family was there, along with what felt like the entire North Harbor Police Department.
Detective Pitt was being rolled out and taken in the ambulance to the hospital. Emma wasn’t allowed to go with them. She walked over to Zaq, and he wrapped his arms around her. She put her head on his chest and wept. After a few moments, she pulled herself together. “He saved my life.”
“Mine too.” I shuddered at the thought, and Frank hugged me.
The paramedics quickly assessed Dawson and pronounced him fit, but they suggested he come to the hospital to be checked out.
A tall African-Amer
ican man with a mustache and light gray eyes approached. “I’m acting Chief of Police Daryl Stevenson.”
“Stevenson?” I said. “Are you related to . . . ?” I glanced at Ruby Mae, who was beaming.
“Yes, ma’am. She’s my great-aunt. Now, can you tell—”
“Acting chief of police?” Nana Jo said. “What happened to Chief Zachary Davis?”
“He’s been placed on temporary suspension pending an investigation into financial impropriety. Could you—”
Mom rushed in and hugged me. “Oh, Sam, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. How did you all get here so quickly?”
“Nana Jo called us and told us to get our butts over here quick; you were in trouble,” Jenna said.
“Could someone please tell me what happened?” Chief Stevenson asked.
I told him everything I’d figured out based on the information everyone had discovered. I hadn’t noticed that Chastity Drummond was still there until she spoke.
“She’s been poisoning me?” She stared wide-eyed. “I thought I was losing my mind.”
“That’s what she wanted you to believe,” I said. “Detective Pitt kept telling me Mildred was nuts, but . . . I just thought he was bitter because she’d left him for John Cloverton.”
Dorothy turned over the list of items that Mrs. Carpenter had given her, and I told him where I’d seen them in Mildred’s house.
After what felt like hours, Chief Stevenson left, but not before walking over to Ruby Mae and kissing her cheek.
“He’s cute,” Irma said. “I wouldn’t mind getting arrested by him.”
Ruby Mae shot her a look that would have crushed walnuts. “Don’t even think about it.”
Emma and Frank were covered in Detective Pitt’s blood. Zaq took Emma home to change. It took a bit of reassurance before I convinced Frank that I was really okay before he was willing to leave.
Nana Jo gave me a once-over. “You look tired.”
“I suppose I am. I’m finally crashing from the adrenaline high.” I yawned. “I think I’m going upstairs to take a long hot bath before getting some sleep.”
