A Tourist's Guide to Murder

by V. M. Burns

  Irma was making goo-goo eyes at a man sitting alone, who looked young enough to be her grandson.

  The detective sergeant’s eyes asked the question, What about her?

  I shrugged. “She’s got a way with men.”

  “Harrumph,” Nana Jo said. “She’s a floozy.”

  Templeton smiled and must have made up her mind to trust us because she leaned forward and spoke softly. “Several people heard Major Peabody make disparaging remarks about Jews in Hannah’s presence. She was one of the last people in the ballroom the last night that the major was alive.”

  “But lots of people fought with the major,” Nana Jo said.

  “True, but she’s the only one who argued with him who had digitalis in her room.”

  “Digitalis?” I said. “Is that what killed him?”

  “That’s what Dr. Blankenship guessed, but we won’t know until there’s an autopsy. But if anyone finds out I told you, I could lose my—”

  Nana Jo waved her hand to silence the woman’s fears. “We’ll never tell.”

  Ruby Mae looked up from her knitting. “Hannah has a weak heart. I think the digitalis was her own medication.”

  “What’s the evidence against her for killing Mrs. Habersham?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “He doesn’t really have anything other than the fact that she gave sedatives to the daughter.”

  “But that was just melatonin.” I looked at Nana Jo. “We both saw the bottle.”

  “It’s completely harmless,” Nana Jo said. “Besides, Lavender isn’t dead.”

  “Nelson’s old-fashioned. He thinks he can intimidate her into confessing.”

  “Pshaw.” Nana Jo snorted. “The man’s a fool.”

  Ruby Mae said, “She’s a tough woman, and she certainly won’t confess to a crime she didn’t commit.”

  “What are you going to do?” Templeton asked.

  “First, we need to get Hannah out of jail,” Ruby Mae said.

  “I don’t think that will be a problem. He doesn’t have much, and a good solicitor will have her out within hours.” She glanced at her watch. “She may already be out.”

  “What can we do to help?” I asked.

  She gave me a hard look. “I’m supposed to say stay out of it. This is dangerous. Someone has . . . up until now, gotten away with murdering two people. They’re dangerous. You need to leave this to the professionals.” She gave us all harsh looks, but after we merely returned her glances, she shook her head. “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

  We all shook our heads.

  “How about this. Keep your ears to the ground, and if you hear anything, you call me.” She reached in her purse and passed around her card. She sighed. “Look, martial arts black belts or not, this person is dangerous.”

  Nana Jo patted her arm. “We’ll be careful. Don’t you worry about us. American women are tough. We don’t go down without a fight.”

  The detective sighed again. “I knew you wouldn’t listen. American women are also stubborn.”

  “Not all American women are stubborn,” I said, “but . . . you’re not entirely wrong.”

  “I need to have my head examined for sharing any of this.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “And, if this gets back to the Met, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Nana Jo crossed her heart and held up three fingers in the Girl Scout salute.

  “My money is on Professor Lavington. He—”

  Irma sat up straight and stuck out her chest. “Bullsh—”

  “Irma!”

  She broke out in a coughing fit. She glanced around for something to drink but was faced with only water or coffee. She took a sip of coffee. “Albus wouldn’t harm a fly.”

  Templeton gave Irma a hard glance. “Did you know Albus Lavington was fired from the university when they learned he lied about his credentials?”

  Irma gawked at the sergeant.

  “What did he lie about?” I asked. “A lot of people overexaggerate or embellish their resumes.”

  “Albus Lavington never finished his doctorate. In fact, he never graduated from any college that we can find.”

  Nana Jo whistled.

  Irma’s shock wore off. “Well, that lying little weasel.”

  “Lying about his education and pretending to be a professor doesn’t make him a murderer,” Dorothy said.

  “You’re right, but the person who exposed his lies was Horace Peabody.”

  “Major Horace Peabody? Owner of Mystery Lovers Tours?”

  “The one and only.”

  “So, you’re thinking Lavington was so upset that he killed Horace Peabody and Prudence Habersham?” I asked.

  Templeton shrugged. “I don’t know. He should have told us about it when we questioned him, but he didn’t. I’m not saying he murdered them, but it’s a possibility. He knew one of the victims well, and when people don’t volunteer information, I get suspicious.”

  “How did Major Peabody find out?” Ruby Mae asked. “The two men must have known each other pretty well?”

  “The only connection we can find between the two men so far is that they were both in the military around the same time. However, that’s not uncommon in men of that age.”

  “Anyone else?” I asked the detective.

  She squirmed in her seat for a few moments, but we let her squirm. Eventually, she gave in to the silence. “Clive Green is retired CID, but he didn’t exactly leave on good terms.”

  “You mean he was fired?” Dorothy asked.

  “I haven’t been able to find anything about his history, which is suspicious in itself. His records are sealed, and no one who worked with him is talking. I’ve been told to drop it.”

  “I wonder what dirty business Clive’s been up to?” Nana Jo asked.

  “What about Dr. Vincent Blankenship and his wife Tiffany?” Ruby Mae asked.

  The detective shook her head. “Those two appear to be exactly what they seem, American tourists. Dr. Blankenship is a successful medical doctor, and his wife is a housewife. They have two small children. Tiffany filed for divorce about three months ago, but she never followed through.” She glanced around. “Then there’s you all.”

  “Us?” Nana Jo bristled. “You’ve been investigating us?”

  I patted my grandmother’s hand to calm her down. “Nana Jo, it’s normal procedure. They don’t know us.”

  She wasn’t convinced but folded her arms across her chest and mumbled, “Wasting time and resources investigating us.”

  “Can I ask what you found out?” I asked.

  “Detective Bradley Pitt of the North Harbor Police called you . . .”

  Nana Jo glared. “Go ahead, spit it out.”

  Templeton took out her cell phone. She swiped a few times until she found what she was looking for. “He called you, and I quote, ‘A bunch of nosey old broads who think they’re Nancy Drew and who like to meddle in things that don’t concern them.’”

  Nana Jo smacked her hand down on the table. “Why that dirty little pip-squeak.”

  “After everything we’ve done to help him,” Dorothy said.

  Templeton held up a hand to quell the outrage. “He also said, ‘Those old biddies have a knack for getting people to talk and a network that the FBI, CIA, and Interpol would envy. People trust them, so they tell them things they’d never say to the police.’” She looked up from her phone for a moment and then continued, “He said, ‘I’d stake my reputation that none of those women killed anyone, but if someone was foolish enough to commit a murder within twenty miles of them, there’s no way they’ll keep out of it.’” She glanced at me. “ ‘Samantha Washington is a pretty sharp cookie. If you need to sort things out, she’s the one to do it, but if you tell them I said it, I’ll deny every word.’ ”

  I could feel everyone looking at me.

  Nana Jo huffed. “Maybe Stinky Pitt isn’t as worthless as I thought.”

  “Stinky Pitt?” Templeton asked.
>
  Nana Jo explained the nickname was given when the detective was a boy and she was his math teacher. “I like to torment him by using it periodically.”

  Templeton finished her coffee and rose to leave. “I know you believe you’re tough and invincible, but I want to caution you to be careful. There’s a killer on the loose. If you have any information or an inkling of who could be responsible, please call me.”

  “I promise,” I said. “We’ll be careful.” I extended a hand to shake. “American women are tough, but I suspect England has some pretty tough women too.”

  She shook my hand and gave me a slight smile and walked out.

  We talked for a few moments and then paid our check. Rather than relying on Irma’s assets to secure a taxi, I asked the waitress if she would ring one for us.

  When we walked into the hotel lobby, Hannah Schneider was there waiting for us. We rushed up to her and hugged her. Everyone started firing questions at once, and Hannah looked overwhelmed.

  Nana Jo held up a hand to halt the questions. “Do you feel up to talking?”

  Hannah nodded.

  We found a secluded area in the lobby and sat down and waited. Hannah got settled and took a deep breath. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.” Tears started to stream down her cheeks.

  Ruby Mae slipped a handkerchief into her hands and put an arm around the woman’s shoulders. After a bit, Hannah sniffed, took a deep breath, and pulled herself together. “I’m sorry. It’s just every time I think about it, I get so angry.”

  Nana Jo reached over and patted the woman’s hand. “We can wait until tomorrow if you’d rather.”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, I’d like to get this out now. Then, I’m going to my room to take a long shower, make myself a cup of tea, and try to get some sleep and forget this horrible day ever happened.”

  “You might need something stronger than tea,” Dorothy joked.

  Hannah smiled and patted her purse. “Agreed.” She dabbed at her eyes and took a deep breath. “After I was taken out of the pub like a . . . common criminal . . .” Her voice broke.

  “Try not to dwell on that,” Ruby Mae said. “What happened once you were at the police station?”

  “Well, on the ride over, I got angry, but I remembered everything my husband and my daughter ever talked about with their jobs.”

  “Your daughter?” I asked. “We know your husband was a policeman, but your daughter . . .”

  “My daughter’s a barrister.” Hannah smiled. “Didn’t I mention it?”

  “No, you never did.”

  “So, as soon as we got to the Yard, I demanded a solicitor and called my daughter. She got there in record time and demanded to know what evidence they had against me. Honestly, within an hour, I was released.” She grinned. “She wanted me to go home with her, but . . . I told her I wanted to see this thing out.” She looked at each of us. “We are going to investigate and find the real killer?”

  Nana Jo and the girls all turned to me.

  I reached across and squeezed Hannah’s hand. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 17

  Hannah Schneider was wiped out, and after a few questions about her general well-being, we agreed to call it a day and meet for assignments early tomorrow morning after we’d all had a chance to get some sleep.

  Irma spotted Professor Lavington in the bar and decided she would start gathering information tonight. The rest of us went up to our rooms.

  Upstairs, Nana Jo was the first to go to bed. I tried to sleep but found myself tossing and turning. After about an hour, I gave up. I pulled a sweatshirt on top of my T-shirt that I’d bought to sleep in and slipped on my jeans. I grabbed my notepad, pen, and the key card for the room and slipped out the door. I had no clear direction in mind, but I found myself back in the quiet alcove where I’d written before. Maybe a bit of writing would help me sort through my thoughts.

  Lady Elizabeth, Lord William, Lady Clara, and Victor Carlston sat in the library of Wickfield Lodge. Lady Elizabeth knitted, while Lady Clara gazed out the window. Lord William sat in a chair with one foot propped on an ottoman. His Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Cuddles, lay curled up in a ball near his master’s foot.

  There was a tap at the door and Thompkins entered.

  “Good, now we can start,” Lady Elizabeth said. “I wanted—”

  The door opened again, and Lady Penelope entered. “I thought I’d find all of you here.”

  Victor hurried to his wife’s side. “Penelope, you should be resting.”

  Lady Penelope became upset. “No, I won’t go. I want to help. I’m not going to be able to rest until we find the murderer.” She turned to her aunt. “Please, I want to help.”

  Lady Elizabeth stared at her niece. “You can help on one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  “You have to promise not to overexert yourself.” Lady Elizabeth patted the sofa next to her.

  Lady Penelope hurried to sit down. “I promise.”

  Lady Elizabeth gazed up at her nephew. “Victor?”

  He stared at his wife’s face for several seconds and then nodded.

  Lady Clara, who had been pacing in front of the fireplace, turned to her aunt. “What about Peter . . . ah, I mean Detective Inspector Covington. Isn’t he going to join us?” She colored slightly. “It might be handy to have a Scotland Yard detective helping us.”

  Thompkins coughed. “Detective Inspector Covington sends his apologies. He’s been detained but will be here as soon as possible.”

  Lady Clara flushed.

  “I’m not really sure where to begin,” Lady Elizabeth said. She took a deep breath. “Dr. Haygood examined Captain Jessup, and as far as he’s concerned, the death was due to a man with a weak heart overindulging in alcohol.”

  “Darned fool,” Lord William said and puffed on his pipe. “Got to look after the ticker.” He tapped his chest.

  “If it’s natural, that should be the end of it,” Victor said. “There’s nothing to investigate.”

  “People won’t believe that,” Lady Penelope said. “You know people will talk. They’ll say you or I or one of the family did it so you would inherit.” Her eyes pleaded. “You know I’m right.”

  “I know.” Victor nodded and turned away.

  Lady Clara flopped down into a chair. “So, we’ve got to prove that the odious captain wasn’t murdered.”

  Detective Inspector Peter Covington opened the door and entered the study. He glanced at Lady Clara and then quickly turned away. “I’m sorry, but I was talking to Dr. Haygood and making arrangements with the Yard.”

  Lady Clara perched on the edge of her chair. “What arrangements?”

  He took a deep breath. “Captain Jessup’s doctor says he just filled Jessup a new prescription for digitalis.”

  “Digitalis is what they give people with bad hearts, isn’t it?” Lady Clara said.

  “It is, but the prescription was new.”

  “Ah . . . I see,” Lady Elizabeth said. “The prescription was new, but the bottle on Captain Jessup’s nightstand was empty.”

  “There’s no way that bottle would have been empty unless . . .”

  “Unless someone killed him,” Victor finished the detective’s thought and said aloud what everyone must have been thinking.

  Lady Penelope turned to her aunt. “So, we need to figure out who murdered Captain Jessup.”

  Chapter 18

  Sometime during the night, Clive Green sent emails and arranged for messages to be sent to all of the tour group, notifying us of a meeting in the ballroom at nine. In light of that development, we decided to hold off on our sleuthing meeting until after Clive’s meeting.

  At nine, the tour group made our way back into the ballroom. However, we weren’t alone. This time, D. I. Nelson and D. S. Templeton were there.

  If I thought Clive Green looked bad before, I was wrong. Today he looked worse. His eyes were sunken into his head, and he had dark circles and bags under
his eyes. The already thin man looked as though he hadn’t eaten or slept.

  Clive stood in front of the group. “Ladies and gentlemen, first I’d like to say that Lavender Habersham is resting comfortably and is receiving the best care possible.”

  In all of the commotion around the murders, Lavender Habersham had gotten lost. I suspect that was her lot in life. The poor woman was a drudge for her mother and was often forgotten or overlooked. I made a mental note to arrange flowers be sent to her.

  Clive cleared his throat. “Now, I must regretfully inform you that we will have to cancel the remainder of the trip.”

  There was a rumble as people complained about the waste of money and time.

  Clive held up his hands to quiet the crowd. “You will all, of course, receive refunds for the portion of the trip that we were unable to complete.”

  Nana Jo stood. “Look, I realize there’ve been two murders, but some of us have traveled a long way, and it may be years before we can have the time to make a trip like this again.”

  Vincent and Tiffany Blankenship exchanged glances.

  Nana Jo turned to me. “My granddaughter has been looking forward to this trip for a long time and was relying on this trip to help with the research for her next book.”

  I tried to hide my surprise at Nana Jo sharing something that was very dear to me and extremely private. One look in her eyes told me that she was up to something, so I forced myself to remain calm.

  She turned to Clive. “The other day, you told us Major Peabody would have wanted us to finish our tour.”

  Clive started to speak, but Nana Jo wasn’t done yet. “Look, I’m not trying to be disrespectful of the two people who have died. I know finding a murderer is important, but surely there’s a way we can continue. I don’t see how sitting around this hotel is going to make things better.”

  Nelson gave a snarky laugh. “Well, that’s why a pretty little lady like yourself needs to leave matters like solving murders to the professionals.”

  Ruby Mae shook her head and mumbled, “Bless his heart.”

  I’ve known Ruby Mae long enough to know that rather than a prayer, she was using the phrase as it was used in the southern United States, which roughly translated to, You poor pitiful fool.