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

by Sonia Parin

  “Hooligans?” Henrietta could not have sounded more affronted. “I’m sure we do not have any hooligans in these parts. We might be besieged by the occasional poacher, but I doubt anyone wishing to trespass on private property has ever dared to set foot in our village.”

  “Poachers are a type of trespasser,” Phillipa mused.

  “There is a difference,” Henrietta stated. “A poacher might climb over hedges but I dare anyone to claim a poacher would demean himself by breaking a window to enter a house.”

  “You sound offended, Henrietta,” Tom teased.

  “Yes, and I have every right to be,” Henrietta said. “If we don’t maintain some standards, where will we end up?”

  “So, you’re not offended by someone being murdered?” Tom asked.

  Evie shifted her foot until she could be sure to land a swift kick.

  Tom yelped. Recovering, he said, “Phillipa is right. The news will keep the scriptwriters entertained for the rest of the evening. You don’t have anything to worry about.” When Evie didn’t respond, he smiled. “I guess that’s not what you wanted to hear. I suppose we could go into the village tomorrow and snoop around. Since you visited Mrs. Green today to extend the offer of assistance, she might expect you to offer your moral support.”

  “Thank you. That’s a sound idea. We’ll call on her tomorrow morning. It will give us an opportunity to ask some pertinent questions. Can you think of any?”

  “That depends. Is she still on your list of suspects?” Tom asked.

  “I’m not sure I really have one of those.” Evie reached for her glass again only to realize it was empty. “Could this be a case of Mrs. Green diverting attention from herself?”

  Tom laughed. When Evie didn’t join him, he said, “Oh, you’re serious.”

  “Well, she did give a false account. Why did she contradict Henrietta? I know I keep asking that but only because there doesn’t seem to be a reasonable explanation. We must find out who else witnessed the clash.”

  Tom leaned in and whispered, “What if she didn’t contradict the dowager?”

  “I heard that,” Henrietta said. “Young man, I might be old enough to be your grandmother but I still have full possession of my hearing.”

  Tom laughed.

  “I see. You are teasing me.” Henrietta turned her attention back to her meal only to say, “Or are you?”

  “He is teasing you, Henrietta.” Evie knew Henrietta would have no reason to lie. Mrs. Green’s motivation, on the other, remained a mystery. Belatedly, she realized she’d had the perfect opportunity to ask Abigail about the altercation. They had all suspected there might have been a third person to witness the clash between Henrietta and Mrs. Sheffield. Had it been Abigail or one of the servants?

  Heavens, and now there was the business of someone breaking in. What if it had been the killer, returning to the scene of the crime to remove evidence? Evie pulled herself away from that line of thought. It seemed senseless to wonder what other weapon might have been used against Mrs. Sheffield when they hadn’t discounted the mad honey.

  Scanning the table, Evie said, “I think we’re ready to withdraw.”

  Henrietta chuckled. “And I think your prompt has become almost redundant. We have all finished, therefore, we will all withdraw to the drawing room. Unless, of course, Tom would like to remain here alone. Evangeline, you will have to organize yourself into collecting more male acquaintances to fill a few places at the table.”

  “I’m actually glad of the intimate setting,” Evie admitted. “We can at least hope to contain the situation.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what an outsider would make of the scriptwriters using someone’s misfortune to shape their story.

  Henrietta’s eyes sparkled. “I suppose this is not the best time to say Sarah telephoned earlier to inform me news had reached her about Mrs. Sheffield’s death. She seemed to think you were somehow involved. I took great pleasure in putting her mind at rest by telling her all about my efforts to safeguard the family honor…”

  “Did you doze off?” Tom nudged Evie with his elbow. “If I have to sit through this, I think you could at least provide a distraction instead of sitting there playing Solitaire and dozing off.”

  “I had my eyes closed.” And she had somehow managed to tune out of the conversations wafting around her. The scriptwriters had been reading the first act and had then asked for suggestions which Henrietta had happily provided.

  Tom nudged her again. “Zelma Collins asked you a question.”

  Evie turned her attention to Zelma. “I’m sorry, I missed that.”

  “Which do you think would make more sense? Mrs. Sheffield discovering the vicar had a serious drinking problem or Mrs. Sheffield discovering he had asked for her sister’s hand in marriage?”

  Hadn’t they decided to name the victim Mrs. Hatfield? And… Would she find a drinking problem scandalous? “I can’t see why Mrs. Sheffield would disapprove of a vicar marrying her sister. He would give her sister respectability.”

  “Our next idea was to make the vicar promiscuous.”

  Really? Evie had trouble seeing the vicar as a Lothario.

  Tom nodded. “He would be a perfect Lothario. Women would trust him.”

  “In my opinion, vicars need to be above reproach,” Caro announced.

  Evie sat up. She remembered Millicent saying she had seen the vicar coming out of a cottage. Why would that be unusual? Vicars visited parishioners all the time.

  “You look as though you have just held an entire conversation with yourself,” Tom observed.

  “Yes, and I came close to arguing with myself and losing. Caro, could you please remind me to ask Millicent to describe the cottage? She’ll know what it’s about.”

  “Is this another theory in the making?” Tom asked.

  Evie invited Tom to take a turn around the drawing room.

  “I thought that only happened in Jane Austen books,” Tom murmured.

  “Oh, yes. The very books where heroes do a great deal of murmuring.” Evie guided him toward the fireplace. “Let’s pretend we’re discussing the painting.”

  “I can’t say I’m much of an art connoisseur. What can one possibly say about a pastoral scene?”

  “That’s perfectly fine. I only wish you to listen.”

  “Oh, yes. All men should be well trained in the art of listening.” He smiled. “I’m all ears.”

  “I assume the detective will have spent the day interviewing the beekeeper and trying to find information about mad honey. What if he is missing someone obvious?”

  “Are you referring to the vicar?”

  Edgar cleared his throat.

  Evie tensed.

  “I always thought pastoral scenes were supposed to have a relaxing effect,” Tom said. “You might not be looking at it properly. Your shoulders are as high as your ears.”

  Sighing, Evie turned. “What is it, Edgar?”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your… appreciation of one of Halton House’s most treasured painting. I have just been informed the gamekeeper is at the kitchen door.”

  Evie knew the next question would determine how she spent the rest of the evening. If she asked it, she would no doubt spend the night tossing and turning. If she dismissed her curiosity, she would spend the night pacing. “Dare I ask, why? Did he encounter a poacher?”

  “No, my lady. Or rather, he did encounter someone, but not a poacher. I thought you might want to discreetly exit the room.”

  “Edgar, thank you for your efforts. However, everyone is currently waiting with baited breaths to hear what you have to say to me. I will leave you to entertain them while Mr. Winchester and I go downstairs to investigate.”

  “Very well, my lady. I shall do my best.”

  As they walked out of the drawing room, Evie tapped her chin.

  “Are you trying to remember something?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, a word Henrietta used earlier. It describes our situation. Oh, yes. Besieged. Halton
House seems to be besieged by strange happenings.”

  Tom’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s almost as if you have become a magnet for murder and mayhem.”

  “It’s no laughing matter, Tom. I’m thinking I should abandon the idea of quiet days living in the country. It seems to be working in reverse for me.” Evie stopped and grabbed hold of Tom’s arm. “What if this is nothing but a ploy to get me out of the drawing room so they can work on their nefarious plan to get rid of me?”

  “You?”

  “Not me. My other me. My character in the play. They all seemed to be rather enthusiastic about it. Do you think that says something about the way the servants feel about me?”

  “I’d prefer not to answer. At least, not until we reach the kitchen and see what this is all about.”

  Along the way, they encountered a couple of footmen in the process of clearing out the dining room. Most of the servants were hovering around the kitchen, clearly curious about the late-night visit.

  “Edgar was not joking.”

  The gamekeeper stood by the end of the large kitchen table. Entering, Evie’s attention went straight to the constable sitting at the table. And sitting opposite him…

  “Detective?”

  “My lady.” The detective rose to his feet.

  “Should I be worried about this?” Evie asked not quite sure if she should laugh as she realized there had been some sort of confusion.

  The detective adjusted his tie. “Your gamekeeper escorted us to the house.”

  Evie turned to Mr. Ernest Rogers. “Is that so?”

  “Aye, milady. I was making my rounds this evening when I came upon these two gentlemen. They were lurking in the woods. They looked suspicious and, to put it bluntly, they still do.”

  “Would someone please care to explain?” Evie asked. Turning to the detective, she gestured for him to follow. “Perhaps we might talk in the library.”

  The detective nodded and asked his constable to remain in the kitchen. “If that’s all right with you, my lady.”

  “Yes, of course. Even in springtime it gets quite chilly outside. Perhaps Mrs. Horace might be kind enough to prepare a hot beverage?”

  “At once, my lady.”

  Thanking the gamekeeper, Evie led the detective upstairs.

  “I suppose you have a perfectly good explanation for lurking in the woods.” She led him through to the library. “I wonder if your visit has something to do with Mrs. Green’s store being broken into?”

  “I see, you’ve heard about that.”

  Tom cleared his throat. “I think the Countess would really like to know what you were doing on her land.”

  “I was checking in on the constable. He has actually been stationed here for a couple of days.”

  “Without me being informed?” And the gamekeeper had only now found him?

  “No one was supposed to know about him and he did a good job staying out of sight until tonight.”

  “May I ask why you took such measures?” Evie asked.

  “At first, it was a precautionary measure. After Anna Weston’s attack we thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on the house. But now… Well, it appears you were right about the mad honey. Since you told me about it at the pub, I feared someone might have overheard you. The criminal mind is not something to be underestimated. I feared the person responsible might plan some sort of reprisal…”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  She’d been right about the mad honey?

  “What proof do you have about the mad honey?” Evie asked.

  “I will spare you the details, my lady. However, an extensive post mortem examination has been carried out and it has now been confirmed Mrs. Sheffield had consumed large amounts of honey, possibly over a number of days, and a particular toxin has been found in her system. It should not have been enough to kill her but she had been suffering the symptoms of a weakened heart, something that surfaced only now.”

  He called that sparing her the details?

  “Did her husband know about it?”

  The detective shook his head. “Mrs. Green had consulted a physician in London several months back. He had no knowledge of it.”

  Someone must have known about it…

  The detective continued, “It is my understanding some honey was delivered to Mrs. Green’s establishment.”

  Evie pressed a hand to her chest. “Pardon?”

  The detective cleared his throat. “Mrs. Green said she received some honey from Halton House.”

  “Y-yes. That is correct. I organized it a couple of days ago. In fact, I asked my cook to organize a basket for the vicar too. Detective, are you suggesting my honey is responsible for Mrs. Sheffield’s death? Impossible. I have been consuming that honey every day and you don’t see me suffering from any strange symptoms.”

  He held her gaze for a moment before saying, “During the course of my investigation, I had the opportunity to speak with the vicar. He related an interesting account. It seems he overheard you making an admission and he described your behavior as odd. He also thought you looked quite hysterical.”

  Tom chuckled.

  “Mr. Winchester, is there something you wish to say?” the detective asked.

  “Yes, Tom. Do you wish to throw some light on the matter?” Evie asked.

  “Oh, well…” Tom laughed again. “You really had to be there, detective, to understand the situation.”

  “Could you try to explain it, please?” the detective asked.

  Tom’s gaze slid over to Evie. “I had been teasing the Countess. In fact, I taunted her into playing a role. Unfortunately, the vicar overheard the Countess delivering a most convincing interpretation of a woman overcome by hysterics.”

  Evie huffed out a breath. “I cannot believe the vicar would misconstrue the situation. Nothing good is ever learned from eavesdropping. Frankly, I am shocked at the vicar’s behavior. He should know better. If anyone should be accused of acting in an odd manner, it should be the vicar. He tried to run away.”

  The detective nodded. “That does sound odd. Then again, he had probably consumed some of your honey.”

  “Detective! I am shocked.”

  The detective brushed a hand across his face. “My apologies, my lady. It has been a long day.”

  Evie paced around the library. Frowning, she stopped. “Wait a minute. How did you connect Mrs. Sheffield’s death to me giving Mrs. Green honey?”

  “Ah, I wondered if you would notice. As you know, Mrs. Green’s establishment was burgled tonight. When we informed Mrs. Green, she insisted on going to the store to see if anything of value had been taken. At first, she didn’t notice anything missing. Then, she remembered her tea service which she had inherited from her grandmother. When she inspected the cupboard where she kept it in the small kitchen, she noticed a gap on the shelf.”

  “Someone took the honey,” Evie said.

  “Yes.”

  “And they probably think they have now removed the proof.”

  The detective nodded.

  “Does that narrow things down?” Evie asked.

  “Somewhat. After speaking with Mrs. Green, we now know Mrs. Sheffield became a regular visitor to her establishment. Mrs. Green was at first puzzled by the constancy of the visits. While Mrs. Sheffield had ordered some gowns, she had already been fitted for them. I suspect Mrs. Sheffield might have been waiting for someone else to put in an appearance.”

  Evie swung away and took a turn around the library. Henrietta had said she had felt as if Mrs. Sheffield had intended her to overhear her remarks. Had Mrs. Sheffield been waiting for Henrietta?

  “Did Mrs. Sheffield use honey to sweeten her tea?” Evie asked.

  “Yes, I established that after speaking with her sister, Charlotte Davis. And, yes, whenever she visited Mrs. Green’s establishment, she drank tea sweetened with honey.”

  “So, how did that honey get there? Please don’t say I supplied the mad honey. Did you speak with Benja
min Nelson? I don’t wish to point fingers since he openly admitted rhododendrons and azaleas were best avoided around bees but someone must have supplied Mrs. Green with the mad honey.”

  The detective gave her a brisk smile. “As a matter of fact, Mrs. Green took your honey home with her.”

  “I see.” Why had he waited until now to clarify that point? “Who brought the mad honey to Mrs. Green’s establishment?” Evie sat down. Her gaze jumped from Tom to the detective. “Actually, did you ever find out where mad honey can be purchased from?”

  The detective drew out his notebook, glanced at it and then put it away. “There are a number of questionable establishments in London catering to clients seeking… alternative methods…”

  Not wishing to hear more, Evie held a hand up to stop him.

  “We are still looking into identifying a buyer. London police is working on it.”

  “Do you have any theories about who might have broken into Mrs. Green’s store?” Evie clicked her fingers. “My maid spoke with Anna Weston today. She has her eye on a new man and she said he has been supplying her with honey. Perhaps you might want to speak with her. Now that I think about it, Anna Weston’s behavior is odd enough to suggest she might have been consuming mad honey. Since you’ve had a constable keeping a close watch on Halton House, I suppose we can all breathe easy.”

  “Our investigation is still on-going, my lady.” He checked the time. “It’s getting late. Please accept my apologies. I hope you were not greatly alarmed.”

  “Before you leave… How did Mrs. Green react to the news her store had been broken into?”

  “Shocked. Why do you ask?”

  “Is it possible she might have faked a break-in?”

  “Why would she do that?” The detective dropped his gaze and smiled. “I see. You think she is trying to lead the police away from her trail. You actually suspect her.”

  Evie glanced at Tom. “Well… We have been tossing around a few ideas and they include Mrs. Green seeking revenge.”

  “Revenge? Over what?”

  “It’s rather complicated.” Evie sighed. “Is there a way to establish Mrs. Green’s whereabouts tonight?”