Murder in the Cards: A 1920s Historical Cozy Mystery (An Evie Parker Mystery Book 4)

by Sonia Parin

  “Oh, but I didn’t. I mean, I did just now… I supposed I should have explained. The baker’s wife is the one who believes the dowager is possessed.”

  Evie tried to think if she had ever met the baker’s wife. “Remind me what she looks like.”

  “Let me think.” Millicent closed her eyes as if bringing the image of the baker’s wife to mind. “She has ginger hair and pale blue eyes and is quite robust.”

  Evie didn’t recall ever meeting her or even seeing her at Sunday service. But she knew of her. At least, from a distance. Yes, she would be able to recognize her by her hair. It made no sense. Why would she say such a horrible thing? Did she have something against the dowager?

  “I saw a group of people gathered outside the dressmaker’s shop,” Millicent continued. “They appeared to be holding some sort of vigil there. One woman held a candle and a prayer book, which I found strange because it was morning. They were talking about the new vicar and saying he would get to the bottom of it all.”

  Evie pressed her hands together. “Did you hear anyone talking about motive?”

  “I heard one woman say her ladyship wanted to silence poor Mrs. Sheffield because she knew something about you.”

  Evie swung her legs off the chaise lounge. “What?”

  “I shouldn’t worry too much about that, milady. Someone actually jumped to your defense saying she refused to hear a bad word said about you because, since your return to the village, life has become infinitely more interesting.”

  “Did anyone mention pitchforks?” Caro asked.

  “No.” Millicent shook her head. “I’m happy to report the general feeling is that of curiosity.”

  Evie took a deep swallow. “About what?”

  “I kept the best part until last. Mr. Sheffield is receiving visitors. It seems everyone wishes to express their condolences in person. His sister and sister in law are keeping him company. In fact, they have been staying with him for the past few weeks, which is a blessing in disguise because, otherwise, he would not know how to proceed. Anyhow, the villagers are curious to know when and if you will visit him to pay your respects. Someone mentioned a lookout but I didn’t get any details because the dressmaker’s maid came out and began sweeping the storefront sidewalk. I believe she wanted to encourage us to move on.”

  “And, did you?” Evie asked.

  “Well, yes. Everyone else moved on so I had no reason to remain.”

  Heavens. She hadn’t given any thought to paying Mr. Sheffield a visit. Since they were not acquainted, it would be perfectly acceptable to wait until the funeral service to pay her respects.

  As for the lookout…

  She would have to alert Tom. He could organize the estate workers to keep an eye out on anyone… keeping a lookout on the estate.

  Evie put her hand on her forehead and swooned.

  “Milady.” Caro rushed to her side.

  “Oh, I’m fine, Caro. It seems only yesterday… or the day before, I had been sitting down to tea without a care in the world. And now, everything is in disarray. Please tell me I am overreacting.”

  “You are overreacting, milady,” Caro assured her. “Although, in my humble opinion, you do have a right to be concerned. Your arch nemesis has died at the worst possible time, under curious circumstances…”

  “Caro!”

  “I’m so sorry, milady. I seem to be a bit befuddled. It most likely has to do with playing the role of Lady Carolina Thwaites. I don’t even have to exert myself as it seems to come quite naturally to me, however, now I’m plain Caro…”

  “Oh, you’re never plain, Caro.”

  “Thank you for saying so, milady. Anyhow, Lady Carolina, as you know, rather enjoys expressing her opinions and I feel it is not my place, as Caro, to impede her freedom of expression.”

  “Do you really think of Mrs. Sheffield as my foe?”

  Caro gave a small nod. “I’m sure if she had lived long enough, she would have created enough friction for you to finally decide to put a stop to her.”

  Henrietta believed Mrs. Sheffield had planned on doing precisely that. Why hadn’t Evie sensed it? “Why do you feel that way and why didn’t I see it?”

  Caro smiled. “Oh, that’s because you are too trusting and always try to see the good side in people. The same can’t be said about me.”

  “Really?”

  Caro nodded. “In case you are wondering, you should never change that particular trait in your character.”

  “But shouldn’t I, at least, try to become more observant and aware of the underlying threat some people pose?” Evie asked.

  This time, Caro laughed. “Oh, there’s no need for that, milady. You are surrounded by people who care enough to look after your interests. I’m sure Tom would have eventually warned you about Mrs. Sheffield.”

  Yes, but would she have listened?

  Evie considered organizing an outing to the village but she suspected people would clam up around her.

  Looking at Millicent, she wondered if she should impose on her adventurous spirit again.

  Millicent’s eyes brightened. “I am at your service, milady.”

  “I haven’t said anything, Millicent.”

  Glancing at Caro, Millicent said, “You have this look that comes before you ask someone to do something. Anyone else wouldn’t think twice before asking their maid to perform a task, but you…” Millicent shrugged. “You almost look apologetic.”

  “I think Millicent is trying to say you are too considerate and sensitive of other people’s feelings.”

  “Oh, I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not. Doesn’t it leave me wide open? People will think I’m weak.”

  “I believe the dowager would tell you not to concern yourself with what other people think.” Caro looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then added, “And in the same breath, she would commend you for upholding a sense of decorum.”

  Evie clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “Millicent, would you mind returning to the village to find out what you can about Miss Anna Weston?”

  Millicent smiled from ear to ear. “It would be my pleasure, milady.”

  Something had triggered the woman’s outburst. Anna Weston had felt strongly enough to act on her feelings. Had Mrs. Sheffield resided in the county long enough to form a close friendship with Anna Weston?

  If Anna Weston felt she had lost a true friend, she would have reason to feel embittered. If they had been true friends, even for a short time, had Mrs. Sheffield confided in her? And if she had, what had she said?

  What if Mrs. Sheffield had concocted some sort of fictional backstory to justify her remarks about Evie?

  So much for always seeing the best in people…

  “Millicent, do you think you might be able to befriend Anna Weston?”

  Millicent looked quite pleased with herself when she said, “I will not rest until I know everything there is to know about her.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As she descended the stairs, Evie peered down and murmured, “Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.” She had been taught to enter a room with confidence, but a sense of trepidation swept through her. What would she find on the other side of the door?

  Talk of murder and mayhem?

  She reached the bottom of the stairs but did not move. Normally, she swept across the hall and straight into whichever room she needed to go to without a second thought.

  A footman emerged from the dining room. Seeing her, he bowed his head and stepped aside.

  Evie knew she had to move. Producing a smile, she squared her shoulders, and put one foot forward and then the other.

  She could hear the flow of murmured conversations wafting toward her from the dining room. When she reached the door, she again hesitated but Henrietta had already spotted her.

  “There you are, Evangeline. I had begun to worry about you.”

  “My apologies, Henrietta. I couldn’t decide which dress to wear.�
� A footman drew out a chair for her. She settled down and glanced around the table. “I hope you have all had a fruitful morning. I feel I should apologize. There have been so many disruptions, I can barely hear myself think. I can’t imagine how you are all managing. I promise you, these are unusual circumstances…”

  Zelma gave her a bright smile. “There is no need to apologize, my lady. In fact, we are almost overwhelmed by the amount of stimulation. Our heads are buzzing with so many ideas, we can barely keep up with them.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” Well, not really, Evie thought and wondered if the scriptwriters expected her to continue supplying them with chaos.

  The less informal sitting arrangements during lunch meant Evie could sit next to Henrietta.

  “Zelma did not exaggerate,” Henrietta murmured. “I watched them for nearly an hour and felt dazzled by the energy and enthusiasm. Oh, before I forget. I hope you realize you will have to invite the vicar to dinner.”

  “Thank you for the reminder, Henrietta. I might actually delay issuing an invitation.”

  “Oh? I would have thought you’d want to invite him as soon as possible in order to extricate all the information you can from him. He must know something. Everyone in the county will have made an effort to introduce themselves, and you know what that means. They will all have discussed recent events.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Evie looked up and noticed Edgar standing nearby. “I wonder how Edgar is coping. It must be odd to be asked to join the group and then be excluded from it.”

  “I see. You wish to change the subject. Edgar is quite content with the circumstances,” Henrietta assured her. “After this morning’s session, he said he needed to devote some time to his duties for fear the others might resent him. I sat close enough to him to also hear him murmur something about being at risk of getting too big for his boots.”

  “That’s just silly, but I suppose he knows best.” Evie took a moment to admire the dainty little pork pie on her plate. She knew the pastry would be buttery and the filling just as delectable. “How is the play progressing?”

  “If you ask me, I think they are short of suspects,” Henrietta remarked. “So far, they have only managed to involve everyone living in the house.”

  “Where did the murder in the play take place?”

  “In the village.”

  “Did anyone leave the house at the time?”

  “Yes, we all did, at one point or other and our alibis are quite flimsy, including yours, my dear. Any one of us could be the poisoner.” Henrietta leaned forward to include Tom in the conversation. “Tom suggested you would make the perfect poisoner.”

  “He did?” Evie turned to her right and glanced at Tom.

  “Well, I had to distract them and the only way I knew how was to pretend to contribute something,” he said. “Those women can be quite tenacious and haven’t given up trying to talk me into joining their play.”

  “You could just walk away,” Evie suggested.

  “Someone has to keep an eye on them.”

  Phillipa laughed at something Zelma Collins said and then turned to Evie. “We loved hearing the story about the vicar. So much so, Zelma thought it would be fun to include a character based on him in the play. I think you’ll like what she has come up with.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask.” And she couldn’t even begin to imagine what they would do with a newly arrived vicar. She considered sharing the information Millicent had passed on to her, but then she decided Henrietta didn’t need to know the villagers thought she had been possessed.

  “We have made the vicar a possible suspect,” Phillipa continued. “So far, we have decided that our fictional Mrs. Sheffield had, until recently, lived in London where she had become acquainted with the vicar, who’d also resided in town. A scandal has driven him to the countryside and Mrs. Sheffield is the only one who knows about his past. We think that gives him a perfect motive to kill her.”

  Henrietta leaned in and whispered, “If only that could be true. Then the vicar would be sent away and we could get a new one.”

  “Henrietta! Don’t you like our new vicar?”

  Henrietta’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “There is something odd about him. I feel I must agree with Tom. He is peculiar.”

  While Evie didn’t necessarily wish to share the sentiment, she had sensed something strange about him too. Wouldn’t someone in his position refrain from forming hasty opinions about someone? Yet, the vicar’s reaction to Henrietta suggested he might have taken the villagers’ gossip seriously.

  Yes, Evie thought, he should have remained neutral.

  “You look pleased with yourself,” Tom said.

  “I believe I have just had a personal breakthrough.” She mentioned Caro’s remark about her tolerant character and went on to say she had just been quite critical of the vicar. At least, in her mind. “Also,” she lowered her voice, “I must admit, I was dreading coming down for lunch. Yesterday, we had that dreadful incident with Anna Weston and then the police came…” Drawing in a deep breath, she finished by saying, “Perhaps we can now relax and enjoy an uneventful day, which should make the afternoon rehearsals something to look forward to.” And she could fade into the background and play a game of Solitaire…

  Henrietta murmured, “I would love to ask your cook to pass on the recipe for this wonderful pastry, Evangeline, but I’m afraid that will only cause friction in my household. My cook is rather sensitive and she will think I don’t appreciate her pie. I do, but there is something to be said about an exceptional pie crust.”

  “I will make a point of inviting you to lunch when we have pie, Henrietta. That way, everyone will be happy.”

  “You are so thoughtful, my dear. How you could possibly have poisoned Mrs. Sheffield is anyone’s guess. Of course, I am referring to your fictional character.”

  “Thank you for clarifying that, Henrietta.”

  Edgar cleared his throat and approached Evie.

  “What is it, Edgar?”

  “The detective, my lady. He wishes to speak with you.”

  Evie’s voice hitched, “Now?”

  “I’m afraid so, my lady.”

  “Only me?”

  Edgar nodded.

  “I’ll come with you,” Tom offered.

  “Thank you but I can’t help feeling he is being rather inconsiderate. Then again, it might be an emergency.”

  “Well, he hasn’t asked to see me,” Henrietta said. “I am happy to read that as a good sign.”

  As Evie made her way out of the dining room, she thought she heard Henrietta murmuring something about reality mimicking fiction.

  Feeling slightly irritated by yet another interruption to lunch, Evie didn’t give the remark much thought. However, as she was about to enter the library, she stopped.

  “What?” Tom asked.

  “I just added two and two together.”

  Tom grinned. “And what did you come up with?”

  “Patsy Bolivar.”

  “Isn’t that a character from a vaudeville skit?” Tom asked.

  “Yes. I take it you know of him.”

  He nodded. “Whenever something goes wrong, blame Patsy Bolivar.”

  “In other words,” Evie said, “Patsy was a fall guy.”

  “And?”

  “My fictional family is pointing the finger of blame at me for poisoning the fictional Mrs. Sheffield and I suspect I’m about to be questioned by the detective about it.”

  “Oh, I see. Life imitating fiction.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Evie walked into the library, the detective surged to his feet.

  “Lady Woodridge, please accept my apologies for once again intruding on you.”

  “I take it this time you have some questions for me, detective.” Evie considered remaining standing but then decided against it. After all, the detective had a job to do and it would be unkind to pressure him into getting on with it by making him feel uncom
fortable.

  While Evie chose to sit opposite him, Tom made his way to the fireplace.

  “As a matter of fact, yes, I do have some questions. I wanted to ask you about the afternoon tea you held several days ago. The one Mrs. Sheffield attended.”

  So much had happened since that fateful day, Evie wondered if she would be able to remember any of it.

  “How did Mrs. Sheffield look to you?” he asked.

  Evie searched her mind. How could she describe a woman who had been so critical of her? She’d had an opinion about everything. Now that Evie thought about it, every time she’d glanced her way, Mrs. Sheffield had been talking with someone. Or, rather, she had talked in such a way, the other person hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise. Evie realized she had meandered off topic. The detective wanted to know how Mrs. Sheffield had looked…

  “Sprightly.” Evie tilted her head. “And chatty. She had a lot to say.”

  “So, she looked well?”

  Had Mrs. Sheffield been unwell?

  In Evie’s mind, she’d looked lively and if she hadn’t been well, then she might have been less… engaging.

  “She’d looked well enough to me. Was there something wrong with her?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to establish,” the detective said.

  “But you must know enough about her cause of death to feel you have to look into it,” Evie reasoned. “I suppose you are not free to share any pertinent information.”

  The detective studied her for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I have been in contact with Detective Inspector O’Neill, my lady. He recommended sharing information with you.”

  Evie smiled. High praise indeed. However, Detective Inspector Jon Chambers did not look pleased about the idea.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom shifting. “Tom, how would you feel if the detective shared information with us?”

  “I would be inclined to remind you of your desire to work in the garden,” Tom drawled.

  Meaning, she had been seeking any means possible to avoid the sort of circumstances which involved her in risky activities.