Murder on a Mystery Tour

by Marian Babson

  ‘Come and sit here, Lauren.’ Stanley Marric crowded his chair into Algie’s, causing a hasty reshuffle at his table. ‘Reggie will bring a chair.’

  ‘I’m not Lauren.’ She looked at him coldly. ‘I’m Brigid.’

  ‘Then you had switched name tags again,’ Haila Bond said. ‘Just as we suspected. It’s really Lauren who’s lying out there—’ She broke off abruptly, flushing.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The voice was colder than ever. ‘I’m Lauren.’

  ‘Holy Jeez!’ Marric said. ‘She’s flipped!’

  16

  Lauren-Brigid demanded two bowls of soup and finished both of them. When she insisted on two dinners, Midge, worrying about emergency first aid for stomach upsets, produced drastically reduced portions. The twin did not appear to notice and, fortunately, seemed content with one chair. There was no denying that she cast a pall over the entire assembly.

  By the time everyone retired to the drawing-room for coffee, Hermione had developed a bad case of stage fright. Not without reason.

  ‘I don’t think I can do it,’ she said, watching Reggie smoothly set two demitasse cups beside Lauren-Brigid. ‘Not with her watching. I’m afraid to. What if it pushes her over the edge?’

  ‘Hrrmph!’ Colonel Heather snorted. ‘Shouldn’t think there was an edge left for her to go over.’

  ‘I’m afraid Colonel Heather is right, dear,’ Grace Holloway said. ‘It would be hard to see how she could get any worse. The best thing to do, surely, is to carry on and give her something to occupy her mind.’

  ‘Both of ’em.’ Colonel Heather seemed on the verge of amusement. Miss Holloway gave him a withering look.

  ‘Here.’ Midge carried a brandy over from the bar for Hermione. ‘Have this and take it easy for a bit. You don’t have to do anything right away. The actors are going ahead as scheduled. You can keep in the background until it’s your turn.’

  Lettie wheeled in the coffee urn. Ivor Novello sang of Ruritanian romance. A soothing air of unreality settled over the assemblage.

  Except for a marked disinclination to address the remaining Chandler by any name whatsoever, everything was much the same as it had been last night.

  ‘So far, so good,’ Reggie murmured, as the Hon. Petronella took the floor with Algie for a foxtrot.

  ‘I’m not going to uncross my fingers until we get away from here,’ Roberta said. ‘If we do. What will happen when the police come? Will they let us go—or will they want to keep us in the country as material witnesses?’

  ‘I don’t know—’ Reggie began.

  ‘If you don’t, who does?’ Dix and the Dains had come up behind them. ‘With all your experience at Scotland Yard, you should have some idea of the correct procedures.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Alice Dain said. ‘Thank heavens we have you here. I’d feel so frightened without you. You’re going to take over, aren’t you, and have the whole case solved by the time the police arrive?’

  ‘But I—’ Reggie broke off as he was simultaneously kicked in the shins by both Midge and Roberta. ‘I really have retired from the Yard,’ he ended weakly.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Dix said. ‘Once a Scotland Yard man, always a Scotland Yard man. We’re depending on you.’

  Edwin Lupin moved over to the dancing couple and cut in on Algie, who relinquished the Hon. Pet reluctantly in response to the tap on his shoulder and stood disconsolately looking around. Then, with sudden purpose, he moved across the room, bowed to Lauren-Brigid and led her out on the floor.

  ‘Look at that!’ Alice Dain gasped. ‘That—that fortune-hunter is after poor … er, uh … now. He’s lining up another heiress in case Petronella comes to her senses.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Norman Dain said. ‘And, with her sister gone, she’ll have all the money and no one to argue over how she spends it. Leave it to him to think of that!’

  Amaryllis appeared to be thinking about that, too. She pushed at Bramwell’s elbow, obviously urging him to a course of action he was reluctant to take.

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past Algie to have killed poor … whichever-it-was himself—’ Alice continued making out her case. ‘Everybody knows a bereaved twin is a pushover for the first man who comes along—unless she dies of grief before she can form another attachment. Grief—or maybe gets murdered herself.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that, honey.’ Norman tried to restrain his wife. ‘Who’d want to murder her?’

  ‘Who wanted to murder the other one?’

  ‘The real question is: cui bono?’ Dix was watching thoughtfully as Bramwell shook off his mother’s hand and retreated to a corner, joining Miss Holloway and Colonel Heather. ‘Who benefits?’

  ‘Bramwell would get them both off his back.’ Alice Dain followed the lead eagerly. ‘Also his mother, if neither of them were around. Of course, that would also be true if the Chandler twin were to marry someone else—like Algie.’

  Do you really think she might?’ Norman looked at the couple, who were dancing without enjoyment. Lauren-Brigid’s face was sulky. Whatever Algie was saying to her was not getting a particularly enthusiastic reception.

  ‘Why shouldn’t she? She must know Bramwell isn’t keen on her. Who else has she got?’

  Someone had changed the record on the gramophone and Noel Coward was now conducting an interrogation of his own:

  ‘What is there to strive for,

  Love or keep alive

  for? …’

  Reggie shuddered and moved away.

  ‘Are you going to begin the questioning?’ Alice asked eagerly.

  ‘No, I’m going to open the bar,’ Reggie said. ‘I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could use a drink.’

  The Hon. Pet and Algie quarrelled discreetly, but unmistakably. At one point, her voice was raised high enough so that everyone heard her say, ‘After all I’ve done for you—’

  Edwin Lupin was observed to lean threateningly over Miss Holloway, his Nice American Boy mask slipping, as she cringed with terror. Later, he appeared to have fallen out with Lady Hermione, who looked at him with regal disdain and pointedly moved to the far side of the drawing-room.

  Eric, still bemused by the proceedings, had withdrawn to a corner of the bar with Colonel Heather and was deep in conversation, happily unaware that he was coming in for more than his share of the suspicion.

  Lettie was assisting at the bar, taking orders from the guests scattered around the huge room and returning with their drinks on a tray. Several times she had unaccountably mixed up their orders and the guests were now viewing both her and their drinks with a certain uneasiness.

  ‘Brrr …’ Roberta drew back the drapes and stared out on a chill, bleak and silent white world. ‘It’s beautiful—yet so grim. I’ve never felt so cut off from the world before. At this point, I’d rather explain to everyone that the tour company has left us stranded than actually be stranded like this.’

  ‘At least, the snow has stopped,’ Midge said encouragingly. ‘The world will begin moving again in the morning. The snow ploughs will be working all night to clear the roads.’

  ‘And sooner or later the police will be able to get through.’ Roberta let the drape fall back into place and turned away from the window with a sigh. ‘I’m dreading that, too.’

  ‘Unless they’re already here.’ Haila Bond and Stan Marric had come up behind them quietly.

  Roberta started. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just think a minute,’ Haila said. ‘Who was the last person to join the party? Unexpectedly. After Sir Cedric was murdered. Who came through the blizzard?’

  ‘Like in The Mousetrap,’ Stan prompted. ‘The cop arriving on snowshoes when everybody thought the house was cut off.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Haila’s eyes gleamed. ‘Is he really a policeman? Or is he the murderer … trying a double bluff?’

  ‘But he’s Petronella’s father,’ Midge protested weakly. ‘The tea planter from Ceylon.’

  ‘So s
he says,’ Haila said darkly. ‘But how many of you have ever seen her real father? He’s been out there for years, hasn’t he? This one could be an impostor, maybe hired by Algie, to wipe out any opposition to the match.’

  ‘And that would mean Pet was in on it, too. She’s so besotted, she’d agree to anything.’ Marric shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I’m coming to the opinion that Ned Lupin ought to inherit.’ He paused portentously. ‘And I happen to know that the Chandler twins were coming round to the same opinion. And that’s why Brigid, or whoever, got it!’

  ‘But—’ Midge felt reality lurch and begin slipping away from her.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Marric said. ‘I’ll look out for myself. They’re not going to catch me alone in any dark places. I’m not broadcasting my opinion, either. But it’s got to be decided by tomorrow afternoon—and I know which way I’m voting.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ Haila glanced meaningly towards the large chair by the fire where Lauren-Brigid sat. Algie had just brought her two liqueurs and was hovering over her solicitously. In the background, Ned was gazing thoughtfully at the pair.

  ‘If Pet is in cahoots with Algie and they’ve brought in this hit-man, I’d say she’s backed the wrong horse. I don’t like the way Algie has started paying so much attention to the Chandler dame. If you ask me, he’s sighted richer pickings. Pet is going to find herself out in the cold—maybe with her neck in a noose.’

  ‘That’s a thought,’ Midge said, without specifying where the thought was leading her. Ned had now moved over to offer Lauren-Brigid a plate of chocolate mints. Now both actors were paying more attention to one of the audience than to the supposed object of their affections.

  Their motivation was clearer than any in the script. Their engagement in Murder At the Manor was ending with this weekend; they would soon be back in the West End, doing the weary rounds of agents and auditions. The lure of a wife or girlfriend rich enough to back a show all by herself was a powerful one. It was worth dancing attendance on someone so wealthy, even though her foibles included a difficult temperament and a split personality. An ambitious actor often had to put up with worse in the furtherance of his career.

  Amaryllis appeared to be reaching the same conclusion. She glared at the group by the fire and crossed over to pull her son away from Colonel Heather and Miss Holloway. Once away, she spoke sharply to him. He did not move and she spoke again. He turned to look at Ned and Algie, just in time to see Lauren-Brigid simper up at them and sip at her liqueurs, first from the glass in one hand, then from the other.

  A visible shudder shook him and he moved forward. Amaryllis’s satisfied smile froze as he bypassed the group by the fire and went to join Evelina on the sofa. She moved aside to make room for him and patted his hand.

  Both Amaryllis and Lettie glared at her.

  ‘Just a cosy evening at the Old Manor,’ Roberta murmured under her breath.

  ‘Very cosy,’ Midge agreed, busy with her own problems. Across the room, Lady Hermione was now in earnest discussion with Miss Holloway. Midge had a fairly good idea what they were arguing about. Hermione kept shaking her head. Miss Holloway was growing increasingly desperate. She looked at her watch. Hermione looked at Lauren-Brigid and shook her head again.

  With a gesture of resignation, Miss Holloway returned to her chair, took up her knitting, and signalled to Lettie to bring her a drink.

  Meanwhile, having missed the byplay, Reggie carried a liqueur glass of Amaretto over to Hermione and spoke to her urgently. Hermione stared at the glass with stubborn resentment.

  The guests were growing restive. They had been airing their views and theories, but the initial impetus was running down. It was time for something else to happen before they began to grow bored. Worse, before their minds returned to nag at the real murder.

  Someone stifled a yawn. There was a clicking cascade as Bertha Stout moodily demolished the house she had been constructing with the Mah Jong counters; she still hadn’t cracked the rules of the game. Lauren-Brigid laughed a little too shrilly at something Algie said to her. In the background, Jessie Mathews mourned a lost love.

  Miss Holloway gave one final despairing look around the room, then drained her glass and set it down with a decisive click. She took a deep breath and gave a choking gasp.

  No one paid any attention. More drastic measures were necessary.

  She lurched to her feet, clutched her throat and produced a strange mewling sound. She gave several convulsive movements of head and shoulders, then fell back into her chair and lay still.

  Unfortunately, this was the same moment Hermione decided to heed the call of duty.

  Too engrossed in her own impending performance to have noted Miss Holloway’s preliminaries, Lady Hermione let her empty liqueur glass slip from her hand and roll across the floor. She sank to her knees, articulating a weak scream, then plunged face forward to lie sprawled across the carpet.

  ‘Eeek!’ … ‘Oh no!’ … ‘Hey, look at that!’

  Amid screams and cries of confusion, the guests divided into two groups, rushing to one body and then to the other.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Who was near them?’

  ‘Don’t let those glasses get away this time!’

  ‘Oh, wow!’ someone said gleefully. ‘They both got it! Two of them at once. We never expected anything like this.’

  ‘No,’ Midge said faintly. ‘Neither did we.’

  17

  ‘Do you think it was a suicide pact?’

  ‘Naw, never! Why would they do that? Look, they were fighting just a little while ago. More likely they tried to kill each other. And succeeded.’

  ‘Maybe they died by accident. Maybe the whole bottle was poisoned, not just the glasses. Maybe it was left over from Sir Cedric’s murder.’

  ‘Different people brought them the drinks. Reggie gave Lady Hermione hers and Lettie served Miss Holloway.’

  ‘That Lettie—she’s been getting the drinks mixed up all evening. Maybe she took the wrong glass to Miss Holloway—it had been intended for Lady Hermione, then Reggie saw what she’d done and poured another dose of poison and brought it to Lady Hermione himself—to make sure there’d be no mistake.’

  ‘But then wouldn’t he have tried to stop Miss Holloway from drinking the poison?’

  ‘Naw, he’d give himself away if he did. He wasn’t supposed to know there was poison in the glass.’

  ‘But it can’t be Reggie—he’s the Scotland Yard man!’

  ‘Is he? Maybe he’s Brutus, too.’

  ‘Maybe Eric is. If Lady Hermione was an old friend of his, then he’d have known her brother, too. Another old friend.’

  While the arguments raged around them, Eric and Colonel Heather solemnly advanced to fore and aft of Hermione, grasped her shoulders and feet firmly, heaved her aloft and bore her off swiftly.

  Reggie signalled to Algie to come and help him with Miss Holloway, but Dix forestalled him.

  ‘Allow me,’ he said, taking her ankles. Reggie had no option but to let him assist, particularly as Algie seemed reluctant to move from Lauren-Brigid’s side.

  They negotiated the turn at the doorway a little more clumsily than might have been hoped. Dix was observing the conventions, however, and Miss Holloway’s involuntary grimace was allowed to pass unremarked.

  ‘This is terrible,’ Dix said seriously. ‘Terrible.’

  ‘You’re so right.’ Reggie spoke a trifle grimly. It wasn’t actually Miss Holloway’s fault—she had meant well. It wasn’t exactly Hermione’s fault, either, she could not be blamed for her bout of stage fright. It was just highly unfortunate that they had both decided to take action at the same time.

  ‘In here,’ Midge said, opening the office door. It had been prearranged that the ‘body’ would be deposited in there. However, Eric and Colonel Heather had got there first and Lady Hermione was stretched out on the couch.

  ‘Oh—perhaps not.’ Reggie looked around desperately.

 
‘The chair,’ Midge suggested, tilting the reclining chair to its most horizontal position.

  ‘Yes, fine.’ Reggie and Dix arranged Miss Holloway on the chair. ‘It will have to do,’ Reggie said. Eric and Colonel Heather watched with interest. Hermione’s eyelids twitched.

  ‘I would like to extend my deepest sympathy—’ Dix spoke in the formal tones of one addressing the next of kin. Eric jumped, then realized it wasn’t meant for him.

  ‘This is a terrible, terrible tragedy—’ Dix looked directly at Colonel Heather—‘after all the years it took you to get her to yourself at last.’

  ‘Eh?’ Colonel Heather said.

  ‘You needn’t pretend with me.’ Dix patted him on the shoulder. ‘I saw through your little ruse from the start. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You don’t?’ Dix gave a short, sharp laugh. ‘I suppose the name Primrose means nothing to you?’

  ‘Primrose? Primrose?’ Colonel Heather looked at him wildly. ‘Never knew a Primrose in my life. Knew a Poppy once—’

  ‘Oh, you can play it that way if you like, but I know.’

  ‘More than I do. Primrose path—?’

  ‘Very clever. Not quite clever enough, though. You really shouldn’t have let her keep the name Grace. I suppose Holloway was her maiden name?’

  ‘Grace? Primrose?’ Colonel Heather was lost.

  ‘Did you make an honest woman of her? Or was this just a little fling? Not that your fans would think any the less of either of you in this day and age. We were always rooting for you two to get it together.’

  ‘How dare you, sir!’

  ‘Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’m just sorry it had to end this way.’

  ‘Secret!’ the Colonel spluttered. ‘Damn it, man, there is no secret!’

  ‘Aha, but there must be one.’ Dix winked and nodded. ‘What did you do with Sergeant Buck?’

  ‘Buck? Buck?’