by V. M. Burns
“I guess, but it just feels like babysitting.”
The waitress brought the drink and took our orders. When she left, we talked. I learned that Moira Templeton was the only girl and the youngest of six children. Three of her brothers were doctors, one was a barrister, and one was an airline pilot.
“Sounds very prestigious.”
The waitress brought our salads.
“All married with children,” Templeton said. “So, the only girl who’s single and a copper is the big disappointment.”
“I doubt that. You graduated top of your class.”
She stopped her fork halfway to her mouth and chuckled. “All right, I’m sorry I was snippy earlier.”
“I’m serious. You’ve chosen a very important career. It’s not many people who would choose a life of public service that requires so much of your time with so little thanks and money. That is, if being a policeman in the United Kingdom is similar to the United States.”
“Long hours, crappy work with little pay . . . it’s the same.”
“Police have to deal with the worst society has to offer. It takes a special person to do that job.”
“Thanks.”
We chatted amiably throughout dinner. Nana Jo sauntered by the table. “Hey, when we get back to the hotel, we’re going to get drinks and have our meeting.” She glanced at Templeton. “You’re welcome to join us, unless you have to get home.”
Templeton took a sip of her bourbon. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Great.”
We made our way back to the bus. The trip home was quiet. Most people slept, but I needed to think, so I turned on the light above my seat, pulled out my notepad, and wrote.
The mood was somber, as the realization that Captain Jessup was murdered had settled in. Lady Elizabeth took a deep breath and picked up her knitting. “No matter how distasteful, the truth is the murderer has to be someone who is affiliated with the family.” She glanced around. “Thompkins, I know the staff were very upset about the captain’s treatment of poor Gladys. Perhaps you could ask a few discreet questions and find out if anyone . . . took matters into their own hands.”
Thompkins bowed. “Yes, m’lady.”
Lady Elizabeth returned to her knitting. “William, I find it hard to believe that Nigel could be involved in this mess. His father is the rector of Copdock, but we certainly can’t leave any stone unturned.”
“Nigel’s a fine chap,” Lord William said.
“I agree with you, but we mustn’t leave anyone out.” She turned to Lady Penelope. “Penelope, dear, do you feel up to talking to the reverend and Mrs. Baker?”
“Of course.” She glanced at her husband. “Actually, I suppose we’ll need to make arrangements for the funeral, anyway. I don’t know if he had any other family.”
Victor shrugged and turned to the detective. “Any idea when we can . . . well, when your chaps will be done with the . . . well, with him?”
D. I. Covington said, “There’ll need to be an autopsy, but I can ask for a rush and you should be able to make arrangements within a few days.”
Lady Clara anxiously looked at her aunt. “What about me?”
Lady Elizabeth knitted for a few moments. “Actually, I was hoping that you and Peter could still check into Captain Jessup’s claims.” She looked at the detective. “I know you’re now investigating a murder, but I do think we need to find out if there’s any truth to his claims that he was the illegitimate heir of Lord Percival Carlston. That is, if you think you’ll have the time.”
Covington nodded. “Certainly, I can do that.”
“What are you going to do?” Lady Clara asked.
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “I’m going to continue my plan to invite Violet Merriweather to tea, and then I’m going to have a nice long talk with the Wood sisters.”
“Violet Merriweather I understand, but the Wood sisters?” Lady Penelope said. “You can’t possibly believe those two old maids had anything to do with murdering Captain Jessup.”
Lady Elizabeth stopped knitting and stared into space for several moments. “I’m not sure you can discount those two quite so easily. You have to admit, their behavior at the dinner party was unusual. They both looked like frightened birds, and they barely spoke the entire night.”
“That was unusual.”
“My grandmother used to say, ‘Still waters run deep.’” She paused. “I think there’s a lot more going on under the surface of the Wood sisters than people think.” She frowned. “Yes. Much more indeed.”
Chapter 20
The bus pulled up to the hotel. Everyone filed off with promises to return first thing tomorrow morning with luggage for an overnight stay in Torquay.
When I got off the bus, I joined my grandmother, who was waiting outside the hotel with the others. I wasn’t sure D. S. Templeton would actually join us until she came up and stood nearby.
“Shall we head back to the same pub?” Nana Jo said. She turned to the detective. “That is, unless you can recommend another place.”
D. S. Templeton shook her head.
So, we walked the few blocks back to the same pub from the previous night. When we got to the door, I saw Hannah Schneider hesitate before we entered. That was when I realized that she might feel uncomfortable after being removed in handcuffs the previous night. However, she took a deep breath and pushed through the door.
Inside, she stood tall, pulled her shoulders back, held her head high, and walked back to the same seat.
Once we were seated, I noticed Ruby Mae gave her friend’s hand a squeeze of support.
We had the same waitress from the previous night. We ordered drinks and made small talk until they were delivered. When everyone had their drinks, Nana Jo pulled her iPad out of her purse and looked around. “Okay, who wants to go first?”
Irma glanced at her watch and then raised a hand. “I’m meeting Albus in an hour, so I better go first.”
No one objected.
Irma pulled a compact out of her purse and touched up her makeup while she talked. “When Al was in school working on his doctorate, he got into trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Templeton asked.
Irma rummaged in her purse and then dumped the contents on the table. “My handcuffs are missing.”
Nana Jo sighed. “You probably left them in your bedroom. Now, focus.”
Irma returned the items to her purse and pulled out a lipstick and puckered up and applied her lipstick. “Well, I don’t know all of the details, but I think he stole some chemicals from a lab for one of his friends.” She finished applying her lipstick and picked up a napkin to blot.
“Who was the friend?” Nana Jo asked.
“Horace Peabody.”
“Why would Horace Peabody ask Albus to steal chemicals?” I asked.
She pulled a bottle of perfume from her purse. “He said Horace had some type of shopping-market thing going on.”
“Spray that perfume at this table and I’ll wring your neck,” Nana Jo said.
Irma returned the perfume to her purse.
I mulled Irma’s comments. “Do you mean the black market?”
She snapped her fingers. “That’s it.”
Templeton nearly choked on her drink. “He told you Horace Peabody was dealing in the black market?”
Irma nodded. “He said Horace had this black-market thing going on the side and a chap could always count on him if he needed things.” She took a sip of her drink, careful not to ruin her lipstick. “That’s all he would tell me, but I’m meeting him later and will see what else I can squeeze out of him.”
Nana Jo shook her head and updated her notes.
“Well, I might as well go next,” Dorothy said. “Oscar Hoffman really is a German businessman, but he’s also a member of a group that hunts down Nazis and collaborators.”
“Nazi hunters,” Nana Jo said. “I saw a show about them on television.”
Everyone started asking questions a
ll at once, and Dorothy held up a hand. “I don’t have all the details, but he was on the trail of Horace Peabody.”
“Why?” I asked. “Wasn’t Horace too young to have fought in World War Two?”
“He had reason to believe that Horace Peabody ran a black-market ring and sold everything, including weapons, to anyone with enough money to pay him.” She shook her head. “The man was despicable.”
“I don’t see what the black market has to do with hunting down Nazi collaborators.”
“I didn’t either, but apparently there are still quite a few hate groups and people who either helped or are continuing to help advance and promote the Nazi ideology. Anyway, Oscar believed Horace’s black-market dealings have helped fund these old geezers who are wanted for crimes against humanity.”
“Wow!” I tried to find something much more profound to say, but the only thing that crossed my mind was, “Wow.”
Templeton turned to Dorothy. “Did Hoffman confront Major Peabody with his suspicions?”
“He said he didn’t, but . . . I’m not sure.”
Nana Jo stared at her friend. “What’s wrong? You’re usually much more confident. Why are you doubting yourself?”
“I’ve been second-guessing myself since I got off that airplane. From the luggage mix-up to not seeing through the fact that Oscar understood more English than he was letting on. I don’t know if I’m letting my anger at being deceived influence my feelings about him.”
“What does your gut tell you?” Nana Jo asked.
Dorothy paused. “I don’t think Oscar killed him.”
“That will be for a court to decide,” Templeton said with a surprising amount of compassion and softness in her voice. “However, I’ll look into it.”
Ruby Mae updated the row counter on the end of her knitting needle. “Well, I got a few minutes with Clive Green. It’s not easy getting police to talk, and even retired police are close-lipped.” She looked at D. S. Templeton. “Sorry.”
Templeton smiled. “I think police everywhere are fairly good at hiding our feelings.”
Ruby Mae gave me and Nana Jo a sideways glance before continuing her knitting. “I asked Clive what he meant when you heard him say that he knew where the skeletons were buried.”
“What?” Templeton said, looking from Ruby Mae to Nana Jo to me.
Nana Jo looked sheepish. “Oops. I guess we forgot to mention that.”
We quickly filled her in on the argument we had overheard between Clive and Major Peabody.
“You should have told us about this at once.”
“Sorry, I guess we got distracted with the two murders,” Nana Jo said. “What did he say, Ruby Mae?”
“He hemmed and hawed a bit, but finally, he said Major Horace Peabody wasn’t a major. Apparently, Clive served in the military and knew someone in the British Armed Forces, and they said Peabody never made it beyond sergeant. After the military, he just started calling himself major.”
“Interesting, although I think that might be more of a reason for Horace to murder Clive to keep his secret safe than the other way around,” I said. “But you never can tell. I mean, Clive was furious when we saw him and Horace arguing in the hallway, so I could definitely see him killing Peabody over selling the business.”
“Agreed,” Nana Jo said, and she updated the information in her iPad.
Ruby Mae reached in her bag. “Clive seems like a nice man. He even gave me this honey. He’s a beekeeper.” She turned to me. “Do you think they’ll let me take this through Customs?”
“I doubt it,” I said.
“You’re right. I better eat it before we leave.” She returned to her knitting.
“Nice job, Ruby Mae,” Nana Jo said.
Hannah glanced around and then raised her hand. “Is it okay if I go next?”
We all nodded.
“Well, I got a chance to talk to Lavender at dinner. The woman looks two hundred percent better than she did just twenty-four hours ago. I hate to say it, but I think her mother’s death was really more of a relief than anything else.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, her mother was demanding and bossy.”
Irma snorted. “We certainly saw that.”
“The poor lass was bossed from pillar to post and never got to do anything she wanted to do,” Hannah said. “She had to constantly be at her mum’s beck and call. Seeing her mother dead was a big shock, but I think after she got a good night’s sleep, she realized that she was finally free to do whatever she wanted.” She glanced around the table at each of us. “She was free to wear what she wanted to wear.”
“I noticed she had on makeup,” Irma said. “She looked a lot better.”
Hannah nodded. “The poor lass got excited about the idea of buying blue jeans. Apparently, her mum didn’t think they were appropriate and never let her wear them.”
“That explains the old dowdy dresses she’s been wearing,” Irma said.
“She wasn’t even allowed to go to university. She’s rather excited about the possibilities.”
“The question is, did she kill her mother to provide that opportunity?” Templeton said.
“I don’t think so.” Hannah sat up excitedly. “Oh, I almost forgot the most important part. According to Lavender, her mother lied about Horace Peabody being her father.”
That got all of our attention.
“What do you mean?” I said. “Is she sure? How did she know?”
“How did she think she could possibly get away with that?” Templeton said. “A DNA test would have quickly proven that Horace wasn’t the father.”
“According to Lavender, Prudence was upset by the way Horace had treated her that first day in the ballroom. So, when she saw Debra Holt, she came up with that crazy story about Lavender being his daughter. She figured maybe Debra would offer her a few quid to keep quiet, and then she’d have her revenge on both of them for being disrespectful.”
“Why the conniving, little bit—”
“Irma!”
Irma broke into a coughing fit and gulped down her drink. “Sorry.”
Nana Jo put down her iPad. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to Debra or Sebastian, but I’ll get them tomorrow. However, I did get a chance to chat with the Blankenships.”
“What did you find out?” I asked.
“They’re a young couple who have two small kids. Vincent works too many hours, and Tiffany’s bored. I think they’re holding back, but I did learn one interesting bit of information.” She glanced at D. S. Templeton. “Dr. Blankenship noticed that Horace Peabody may have been poisoned by something other than digitalis.”
“What?” Templeton said. “Why didn’t he say anything? He’s a ruddy doctor. He should have told the police.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Nana Jo said, holding up her hands. “Apparently, he’s been working long hours and came on this trip for a vacation to rest up and try to salvage his marriage. He wasn’t paying a lot of attention. He saw the pills in Peabody’s room and made a call so he could get back to his wife. After thinking about it, he realized something wasn’t right, and he tried to tell D. I. Nelson but was told to mind his own business and let the coroner make the diagnosis.”
Templeton looked as though she might blow a gasket.
“He did manage to talk to the coroner and relayed his suspicions.”
Templeton took several deep breaths and regained her composure. “Did he say what poison was used?”
“Not to me, but I think he has his suspicions.”
We talked about poisons and murder for a bit longer. Irma stood up. “I’ve got a hot date, so I gotta go. Are we meeting tomorrow?” She smiled and patted her hair. “I might have more information tomorrow morning.”
We decided to give ourselves the day to get more information and agreed that we would meet for dinner tomorrow.
D. S. Templeton looked at her watch. “I better get busy. It looks like I’ve got a lot to investigate.
” She stood and gave us a sincere smile. “Thank you.”
We chatted a bit longer and then headed back to the hotel. We had to get packed so we would be ready for our overnight excursion.
The good thing about not having luggage was that packing didn’t take long. Both Nana Jo and I managed to get our bags packed in record time. Nana Jo picked up a book in the hotel gift store and sat up reading. I took my notepad and went downstairs to my writing cubby and tried to sort through the information I’d learned by focusing my conscious mind on other things.
Thompkins opened the door to the library and announced, “Mrs. Merriweather.” He then stepped aside for the large, buxom woman to enter before he stepped back and closed the door. He went downstairs to get tea.
When he reached the door to the servants’ dining room, he heard a wail that stopped him in his tracks. He got his composure and quickly flung open the door.
Gladys sat at the dining room table, sobbing. Mrs. Anderson, the cook, stood by, trying to comfort her, and Mrs. McDuffie looked as though she had just lost a fight with a flock of geese. Down feathers were stuck to her clothes and her hair.
“What’s going on?” Thompkins said.
Gladys lifted her head, took one look at the butler, and then dropped it back on the table and sobbed harder.
Thompkins glanced from the sobbing maid to the housekeeper, but no answers were forthcoming. So, he quickly closed the door and took charge. “Gladys, stop that noise this instant.” He turned to Mrs. Anderson. “Mrs. Merriweather has just arrived. Please prepare tea for her ladyship and her guest.”
Mrs. Anderson gazed from Thompkins to the maid, then hurried to the kitchen to prepare the tea tray.
Mrs. McDuffie looked at the butler. “Don’t you dare start reprimanding me today. My nerves can’t take it.”
She looked on the verge of tears, something the butler never thought he would see. He turned to the maid. “Gladys, please go up to your room and collect yourself.”
