Murder at the Hunt Ball : A 1920s Historical Cozy Mystery

by Sonia Parin

  In the midst of that silence, the main door to the house opened and Caro rushed in out of the cold.

  She hurried to the fireplace and pulled her gloves off.

  Everyone looked both relieved and surprised to see her.

  “Thank goodness you’ve returned. Evangeline was about to send a posse after you.”

  “Heavens, I thought I’d never get away. Marjorie Devon loved the dress Mrs. Green made for her but she insisted on some alterations right there and then and, of course, I had to do them. Then she just had to try the other dress she had brought along with her and compare the two. All the while, she wouldn’t stop eating and I swear she gained several pounds right before my eyes because when she tried the dress on again, it wouldn’t fit so I had to do more alterations.” Caro scooped in a big breath and then sighed with relief. “I’m ever so glad to be back. That woman makes me nervous. Every time she heard a motor car approaching, she would rush to the window.”

  Evie looked at Lotte. “Could she be nervous about George Stevens’ arrival?”

  Lotte gave a pensive shake of her head. “I’ll need to make a telephone call to see if my contacts can tell me anything.”

  Evie gasped and, thinking out loud, said, “George Stevens sold Sterling Wright a horse. He thinks George wants to buy it back.”

  Sara looked confused. “Why would that make Marjorie Devon nervous?”

  Evie tried to stitch together every other little incident they had witnessed or heard about. Were they all connected to George Stevens? “That’s what we’ll have to find out.”

  Chapter 11

  Calm is restored

  The library

  Tom peered inside the library and found Evie sitting by the fireplace studying the road maps. “Here you are.”

  Evie looked up. “Heavens, I’ve lost track of time.” After the excitement of Lotte and Caro’s return, they had all sat down to lunch, agreeing to talk about anything but the last couple of days. After lunch, they had all dispersed. Henrietta and Sara had returned to the dower house, Toodles had claimed she needed to write some letters while Caro and Lotte had turned their focus to sorting out their dresses for the evening ahead.

  Tom walked in, his hands in his pockets. “Where is everyone?”

  “I think they’re all trying to calm down. I heard Henrietta say the day is not even half over and we’ve had too much excitement so she needed to recoup her energy in readiness for more excitement. And I’m picking up where we left off earlier.” Selecting one of the road maps, she held it out. “Here, you can make yourself useful and look through this one.”

  Tom chortled. “I thought I was already useful as a prop.”

  “I love that you can make fun of yourself,” Evie mused as she followed her finger along a road on the map.

  Tom settled down opposite her. After a moment of silence, he looked up. “Earlier, you were going to tell me something.”

  It took a moment for Evie to sift through her thoughts. Setting the map down, she drummed her fingers on it. “A couple of days ago I made a telephone call. I haven’t mentioned it because at the time I felt silly. I should be able to make up my own mind but I needed some advice.”

  Tom gave a knowing nod. “You telephoned Detective O’Neill.”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “You were grappling with the idea of becoming a lady detective.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “You already know what I think. It makes sense to seek someone else’s opinion. What did he say?”

  “He encouraged me.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “That’s because I am. Part of me wanted him to say I should stick to being a lady of leisure. However, he seems to think I have some talent and could be quite successful. Actually, he might have said useful.” She drummed her fingers on the map again. “I’m still trying to decide if he put on a show of diplomacy. He buttered me up by saying I knew when to step back and contact the police.”

  “Have you told him about Lotte’s case?”

  “No, that’s not something I can decide on my own. I’ll have to talk it over with Lotte.” She sighed. “I wonder if we should speak with him? He could tap into his contacts. Remember, there’s a member of the crime world involved.”

  “Yes, that’s been worrying me. His presence can’t be a coincidence. Then again, Sterling Wright is involved in the racing world.”

  “Do you think it’s full of bribery and corruption?”

  “I think it’s an easy assumption to make. There’s a lot of gambling money involved so there must be an element of criminality lurking in the shadows.”

  “I hope the threatening letters didn’t come from George Stevens.”

  “And if they did? How do you think he fits into the picture?” Tom asked.

  “Sterling said he wanted to buy the horse back. I keep coming back to that.”

  “And he’s not willing to sell?”

  “No, he’s not. And I’m going to assume George Stevens is not the type to take no for an answer.”

  “So the question is, what is he capable of doing to get his own way?” Tom asked.

  “George Stevens might try to coerce him by force.”

  Tom prompted her, “And if that fails?”

  Evie gave it some thought. “If I let my imagination run wild, I think I could picture George Stevens trying to enlist Marjorie Devon’s help in convincing her fiancé to sell the horse.”

  Tom thought about it for a moment. “You wouldn’t have to try hard to convince me of your theory. Do the threatening letters fit into your scenario? When Marjorie burst in with Lotte, she accused Lotte of sending the letters. That suggests she doesn’t know where they originated from.”

  “You’re right. That does rather put a dampener on my theory.” In the next breath, Evie laughed. “Imagine if George Stevens proposed the idea of talking Sterling Wright into selling the horse but he avoided stating it all clearly.”

  “You mean, he talked in euphemisms?”

  “I imagine that’s what criminals do to avoid being incriminated. Anyway, he assumes his message got through to her but it didn’t and Marjorie goes about her business. When it looks as if she’s done nothing about his proposal, he starts sending her threatening letters as a reminder of what he is capable of.”

  Tom smiled. “I like it.”

  “Yes, but do you think it’s possible?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Evie studied him for a moment. “So it’s actually possible to speak to someone and think they understand what you’re saying when, in reality, they don’t?”

  Tom shrugged.

  “Even if they give some indication they are listening?”

  His eyes brimmed with amusement. A moment later, he grinned.

  “Wait a minute… Have you ever listened to me talking, agreed with whatever I was saying but didn’t actually understand a word I’d said?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re pulling my leg.” She turned her attention back to the road map. “I’m afraid we won’t discover the significance of rosebud green until it is too late.”

  “Agreed.”

  Glancing at Tom, Evie murmured, “I’m almost tempted to ask what you just agreed to.”

  Smiling, he lifted the road map for a closer look. “I think I found it.”

  “Really?” Evie jumped out of her chair and went to stand next to Tom. “Where?”

  He circled the area with his finger. “It’s a small village.”

  “But it’s nowhere near a train station.” Caro had been the one to suggest rosebud green might be a place and Sara had come up with the idea it might be a place Marjorie had seen from the train during her journey from London to Hillsboro Lodge. What if she had driven from town? “How far is it from here?”

  “About half an hour’s drive, or thereabouts.” He looked up. “Are you going to suggest we drive out there?”

  Evie stared at the road map. It would be an easy
drive there and back. But what did she hope to achieve? Yes, they could walk around and ask a few questions but, with no crime committed, she suspected they’d walk away empty-handed.

  “We’ll be getting ready to go to the Hunt Ball soon. I think that’s really where we should be.”

  “Because you expect something will happen?”

  Shrugging, Evie walked back to her chair and sat down to stare at the fireplace.

  “You’re fixating about something,” Tom observed.

  “Yes, I am. When I fret, I pace around. I’m thinking about the way Marjorie acted when Caro was there for the dress fitting.”

  “And you think Marjorie Devon is fretting about something and using food to calm herself down?”

  Giving a small nod, she fell silent and watched the fire. She tried to clear her mind, but her thoughts kept tossing around everything, or rather, the little they knew. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t shake off the feeling something was about to happen.

  “This feels like the calm before the storm,” Tom said.

  “That’s just what I was thinking. Then again, we might be getting carried away and making connections where there are none and letting our imagination lead us astray…”

  “But what if?” Tom asked.

  “Precisely. I keep going back to Marjorie Devon’s reaction when Lotte chased her here. She accused Lotte of writing those threatening letters. It seems so outrageous. Marjorie only recently arrived in the area. Why would she think a local targeted her?”

  “I want to know why her fiancé hired Lotte to follow her. Did we miss something obvious?”

  Evie glanced at Tom. “He doesn’t trust her?” Remembering Caro’s observation, she shook her head. “Or, what if he took enough action to appease his conscience when, in fact, he’d rather shrug off the threats? As you know, I have an uncle in the newspaper business and I’ve heard him speak about receiving threatening mail which he never takes seriously.”

  “People react differently to threats.”

  “Indeed. And then there are people who take pre-emptive action. As far as I know, Toodles never received a threat and yet she hired you.”

  “True. I heard say Senator William A. Clark has a panic room built in his Fifth Avenue mansion because of the threats he receives and he never goes anywhere without a bodyguard.” Tom shifted and, resting his elbow on the armrest, he cupped his chin in his hand. “Let’s say something happens to Marjorie Devon. What’s the first thing you’d do? Suspect someone at the house party? Would the perpetrator be so bold?”

  “Are you testing me or just killing time?” she asked.

  “I’d like to think I’m encouraging you.”

  She gave a small nod. “If you’re going to create a scenario, you’ll have to provide more information. How does Marjorie meet her end?”

  Tom gave it some thought and then said, “In the stables. She’s found with a note in her hand demanding her presence there at a certain time.”

  “Handwriting,” Evie mused. “We’d have to look at that.”

  “What if the perpetrator is really smart and has thought to disguise his handwriting?” he asked.

  Evie tried to remember something Detective O’Neill had said about criminals always leaving some sort of clue. “There’s bound to be a way to make an identification. The pen used. The thickness of the nib. The color of the ink. The quality of the paper. The stables would provide clues too. The killer is bound to leave a footprint. Hillsboro Lodge is a large estate. There are many workers around. I’m sure we’d be able to find a witness who saw or heard something unusual. Then, there are the guests. Someone would have noticed someone missing. I’d try to establish everyone’s whereabouts.” Evie smiled. “The rest would be up to the police.”

  Tom stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “And out of the guests we met, which one would you say is the one most likely to try to kill Marjorie?”

  She said the first name that came to mind. “Twiggy Lloyd appears to have a quick temper.”

  “And what would be his motive?”

  Evie shrugged. “Someone with a bad temper doesn’t need one. Or… maybe Marjorie could say something to trigger his temper. Something about horses. Sterling Wright said Twiggy wants to partner up with him. Marjorie could make a blithe remark about him having no hope of getting what he wanted.” Evie sat up. “We might need to look at this from another angle. Maybe Marjorie tried to blackmail someone.”

  Tom frowned. “Why would she do that? She’s about to marry a wealthy man.”

  “For some people, too much money is not enough. Here’s another theory. She has a perverse sense of righteousness. For instance, she knows Helena Lloyd is having clandestine meetings with her lover and Marjorie disapproves so she threatens to tell Twiggy Lloyd and provide proof of his wife’s infidelity. Twiggy Lloyd knows about his wife’s affairs but doesn’t want anyone else to know so he kills Marjorie to shut her up. And now the more I think about it, the more I believe the police should be alerted.”

  “I agree. We have been made aware of a possible crime in the making and, here we are, sitting back and waiting for something to happen.”

  “Are you about to suggest we should try to prevent it?” Evie chortled. “There are certainly enough of us to keep an eye on everyone.” She held up a finger. “The ball is tonight and George Stevens will be attending. His presence might be the element that triggers… something.”

  Chapter 12

  Starry night

  Hillsboro Lodge

  “Did you call the detective?” Tom asked.

  Evie pretended she hadn’t heard. Then, she thought better of not sharing the information. “Lotte reminded me we are private lady detectives.” Her instinct had been to inform the Scotland Yard detective without delay. However, without proof of a crime being committed she risked being accused of wasting his time. Not that he would ever come straight out and say that…

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “I doubt the detective would rush down here just because we think something might happen.” Sighing, Evie changed the subject. “It’s a beautiful night for it.”

  “For the ball or for murder?” Tom asked.

  She managed a chuckle. “At least, we have been kept entertained. I imagine this is how most cases will develop.” She’d actually enjoyed tossing ideas around with Tom—something she looked forward to doing in the future.

  Of course, she had to admit, some of the ideas had been rather convoluted. But they had helped by providing them with more possibilities.

  Pointing ahead, she said, “The ball is well under way.” With all the lights on, the house could be seen from a distance. Two other motor cars drove ahead of them. “It’s strange, I only just realized there will be other guests besides the ones we met.”

  “More people to suspect.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Earlier, Henrietta and Sara had driven up to Halton House for an early supper, something they had suggested doing saying once they arrived at the ball they might not have the opportunity to sit down to a meal.

  “Are we all expecting something dreadful to happen? Heavens, it feels as if we’re trying to rack up business.”

  Tom grinned. “Yes, it does. What do you have to say for yourself, Countess? Do you think your credibility will suffer if nothing happens?”

  “I’m quite happy to be proven wrong.”

  Tom slowed down and waited for the motor car ahead of them to clear the way. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he said, “We don’t have a description of George Stevens.”

  “Identifying him will be our first priority. I’m sure someone will be only too happy to point him out to us.”

  “You’re convinced he’s here to make trouble.”

  “According to Lotte, he is a slippery fellow and doesn’t like being out in public. Yet here he is.”

  “This is not exactly a public arena.”

  “Granted, this is a private event but
I doubt he knows every guest attending and vice versa. I suppose he might think he can enjoy the night without being recognized.”

  Evie adjusted her coat and smiled at the fact they had all chosen to wear black or gray. Congregating in the hall at Halton House, there had been a moment of silence as they’d each scrutinized everyone’s gown.

  Explaining her choice, Henrietta had said, “We’ll want to blend in.”

  “Yes, we can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves,” Sara had agreed.

  Evie studied the motor car ahead of them. “Is that a Rolls Royce?”

  “Yes.”

  She couldn’t remember any of the local gentry owning such an extravagant motor car. The chauffeur jumped out and opened the door to a stocky looking man dressed in tails. He, in turn, held his hand out to his companion. The woman who stepped out of the motor car had platinum blonde hair and a silver coat. Evie thought she caught a glimpse of something quite glittery.

  “Does that man look like a criminal?” she asked.

  “Now, now, Countess. We mustn’t jump to conclusions and judge by appearances.”

  “No, indeed, we mustn’t. However, I can’t help it. He looks suspicious. Henrietta’s eyes must be bulging out.”

  The Rolls Royce moved on, making way for Evie and Tom.

  He jumped out of the roadster, rounding it to open the door for her.

  Sterling Wright had a full complement of staff, including footmen dressed in blue and gold livery. While it definitely confirmed his wealth, in Evie’s opinion, it also showed a degree of ostentation since, in her experience, only members of the highest ranks of nobility went to such lengths. Although, back home, Mrs. Astor had been in the habit of having her servants dressed in livery and she hadn’t been in possession of a title.

  Evie hoped Sterling Wright didn’t feel he needed to impress people. She knew for a fact most locals would just be glad someone had taken up residence since an empty manor house equaled people out of work.

  “I never actually asked,” Tom said. “What happens at a hunt ball? I’m getting images of men sporting stag heads or fox tails.”