by V. M. Burns
Irma stuck out her tongue.
I glanced at D. S. Templeton, who looked stricken, but she quickly took a sip of her martini to cover.
Ruby Mae smiled. “Well, like I said, her boyfriend at the time took these photos, which she thought were private, but when she broke up with him, he sold them to a magazine in Britain.”
“Without her permission?” I asked.
Ruby Mae nodded.
“That’s horrible,” Hannah said. “I hope she sued him.”
“She was devastated, but the damage had already been done. Taking him to court would have only brought additional publicity to something she hoped would die away.” Ruby Mae halted to complete a complicated cable stitch. “Her year abroad was up, and she went home to the States. She met Vincent, and they fell in love.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “She never told Vincent about the photos.”
“You got it. The magazine with the nude photos never made it to the United States, and his family was extremely conservative. Everything was fine until she came on this tour and ran into Horace Peabody.”
“Horace looks like the seedy sort of chap that would buy girly magazines and then try to blackmail the poor lass into sleeping with him,” Hannah said.
“You nailed it.”
I thought back to the introduction at the hotel. “So, when he was talking to Sebastian about being a model . . .”
Ruby Mae nodded. “Poor Tiffany said she knew he meant her.”
“I thought that was odd at the time, but I thought he was mocking Sebastian,” Nana Jo said, tapping her pen on the table. “I should have caught that.”
“Did she confront him?” Templeton asked.
“She said he tried to corner her in the elevator and demanded that she come to his room that night, but she didn’t. The poor thing said she was scared out of her mind when she went down to breakfast, but was relieved when she learned that Horace was supposedly dead.”
“Did he try again?” Dorothy asked.
“He couldn’t,” I said. “He was supposed to be dead. So, he certainly couldn’t risk being seen by anyone, even Tiffany.”
“Anyway, I told her she needed to tell her husband about the photos,” Ruby Mae said. “Married couples shouldn’t have any secrets.”
“That’s good advice,” Hannah said. “Eli and I didn’t have any secrets. We were happy together.”
Ruby Mae patted her friend’s hand. “She told him.”
“How’d he take it?” Dorothy asked.
“He was furious that Horace Peabody tried to force himself on her. He said if he’d known about it before, he might have kil—”
“He might have killed him?” Templeton said. “How do we know he didn’t?” She pulled out her phone.
“Wait,” I said. “We don’t know that Blankenship knew about Horace trying to seduce his wife.”
“We have nobody’s word that he didn’t know except his and his wife’s, which is hardly reliable. He had a motive. He’s a bloody doctor, so he absolutely had the means, and he had the opportunity.” She picked up her cell phone and tapped numbers as she got up and hurried out of the restaurant.
Ruby Mae looked as though she wanted to cry.
I reached across and patted her hand. “It’s not your fault.”
“She never would have found out if I hadn’t opened my mouth.” She raised a hand and caught Sunil’s attention. When the waiter arrived, she said, “I’m going to need one of those martinis.”
“You better do them all around,” Nana Jo said.
Sunil smiled and hurried away. He came back moments later with a tray and six glasses. He passed them around and took the empty glasses and hurried away.
We took a few moments and downed our martinis.
Nana Jo picked up her iPad. “Who’s next?”
I shared the conversation I overheard between Debra Holt and Sebastian at the Hole in the Wall, although I didn’t see how there was anything useful that would help us. No one else had anything to add.
Irma hurried to the bar, while Dorothy and Nana Jo went in search of the whiskey vending machine. Ruby Mae and Hannah sat and talked about grandchildren, and I went in search of the ladies’ room.
The restaurant really was a maze, but I eventually found my way. When I returned, Sunil and a woman who looked like his mother were seated talking to Ruby Mae and Hannah. I found Nana Jo and Dorothy playing pool, and Irma had made a new friend and had advanced from distant flirting to light petting.
I ran into D. S. Templeton, who was just finishing her telephone call.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She gave me a look that indicated she’d rather have a root canal.
“What did Major Peabody die from? Dr. Blankenship wouldn’t tell me, but he did say it wasn’t digitalis.”
She stared at me for several moments, but I didn’t relent. I’d learned long ago that silence was a great tool. Few people could stand it. Eventually, she said, “He died from an allergic reaction.” She put her cell phone in her pocket. “Bee venom.” She turned and walked out.
I found a secluded alcove, pulled out my notepad, and started to write. I tried to wrap my head around Dr. Vincent Blankenship as a murderer, but something just didn’t fit. Time was running out. Tomorrow was the last day of the tour, and unless we could put the pieces of the puzzle together quickly, an innocent man would be arrested, and the guilty party could go free.
Lord William, in his favorite chair, sat in the library with Nigel Greyson. Lord William filled his pipe, while Nigel stared into the fireplace, nursing a glass of scotch.
“Penny for them?”
Nigel turned. “Excuse me?”
“Your thoughts, man. What’s bothering you.” He held up a hand. “Now, don’t pretend nothing’s bothering you because it’s obvious that something’s wrong.”
Nigel stared at his old friend. Eventually, he nodded and took a drink from his glass. “You’re right. I should have come clean the other night, but . . . well, one doesn’t always know what to do.”
Lord William leaned back and huffed on his pipe. “Why don’t you start from the beginning and we’ll see what we can make of it.”
Nigel took a deep breath. “I guess it started back in the war.” He stood up and paced. “I was in the Royal Naval Reserve in Belgium.”
“I thought you were part of Naval Intelligences. . . hush, hush . . . Room 40.” Lord William leaned forward and whispered, “Codebreaking.”
“Yes, but that came later . . . around 1915. But before that, I was in the RNR. That’s where I met Percival Carlston.”
“Ah . . . Victor’s uncle.”
“Percy and I became good friends . . . real good friends.”
Lord William frowned. “You know something about Jessup’s claims, don’t you?”
“I know Percival was honest and honorable.” He hung his head. “More honorable than me.”
“What do you mean?”
Nigel took a deep breath. “Percy wasn’t the one who got Eileen Jessup pregnant.” He turned to face Lord William. “I was. I’m the one that had a fling with a pretty nurse. Archibald Jessup was my son, not Percy’s.”
Chapter 22
The next day, I boarded the bus to Devon for the last leg of our tour. Normally, writing helped me sort through my problems, and I was able to solve mysteries, but this time, my subconscious had let me down. This morning, I wasn’t feeling any closer to figuring out whodunit than I had been at the start.
Dr. Blankenship and Tiffany got on the bus. Both looked a lot older and more haggard than either one of them had looked yesterday. Based on the dark circles under their eyes, I’d say neither one of them had gotten much sleep. Given the cold look they gave Ruby Mae when they walked by her row, I suspected that D.S. Templeton had invited the couple to answer questions at the precinct and their lack of sleep was courtesy of D. I. Nelson and the Metropolitan Police Force.
Everyone climbed aboard, including D. S. Templeton
. She barely spared me a glance as she moved to a seat in the back.
Today, we were headed back to the Cotswolds. Clive had managed to get us a quick tour of the racetrack that we’d missed. We would also get to spend some time traveling through the Forest of Dean. I had read a few Dick Francis novels but wasn’t very knowledgeable about horses or racing. However, the horses were beautiful and powerful, and I enjoyed watching them run more than I thought I would.
The biggest surprise for me was the trip through the Forest of Dean. I erroneously assumed that the name meant a heavily wooded area with lots of wildlife and devoid of people. The Forest of Dean is an area that encompasses the three counties of Gloucestershire, Herefordshire, and Monmouthshire. It includes woodlands and game and has been a royal hunting retreat, but there are also villages, and the area is better known for ironworking and mining. The area’s most recent claim to fame is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows I and II, as it was used as the filming location. The Cotswolds was also the setting for countless mysteries, including Andrew Taylor’s Lydmouth series, Edward Marston’s historical mystery The Owls of Gloucester, Rebecca Tope’s Cotswold Mysteries, and M. C. Beaton’s Agatha Raisin Mystery Series.
We stopped for lunch in Lydney at a pub called the Rising Sun. We realized that time was running out, but after an evening with D. I. Nelson, neither the Blakenships nor Clive Green seemed inclined to talk. Debra Holt and the handsome Sebastian maintained a good distance. Lavington and Hoffman sat together, and Lavender Habersham and Bella nibbled on cheese and bread in a corner.
I sat with Nana Jo, Hannah, and the girls. Lunch was fairly quiet as we faced the fact that this was the first case we weren’t able to solve.
Nana Jo glanced at me. “Stop being so hard on yourself, Sam.” She patted my hand. “Even Perry Mason had one loss in his career.”
“I just feel like I’m missing something.”
Ruby Mae pulled her honey out of her purse. “Well, we need to finish this honey today. I hate wasting food.”
Nana Jo picked up the jar and poured a bit into her tea. “You say Clive made this?” She took a sip. “It’s pretty good.”
Irma shivered. “I don’t know how anyone could stand being around bees.”
“I like the honey, but I don’t think I’d want to be the one to have to extract it,” Dorothy said.
Hannah passed the jar to me. “I’m allergic to bees, so I certainly wouldn’t be the one to extract the honey.”
I stared at the jar and got a flash.
“I know that look,” Nana Jo said, and she pulled out her iPad. “You’ve figured it out.”
“I think I have.”
“It was the honey, wasn’t it?” Ruby Mae shook her head. “I hate to think of Clive killing that man.”
“It wasn’t Clive. At least, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t.” I looked around. “Where’s D. S. Templeton?”
Clive Green rose and announced it was time to head back.
Everyone started making their way to the bus. I couldn’t find D. S. Templeton anywhere. “I need to call D. I. Nelson.” I took my cell phone from my purse and rushed outside. I climbed onto the bus and dialed the number for the Scotland Yard detective, but I got his voicemail. “Detective, this is Samantha Washington. I think I know who murdered Major Peabody and Mrs. Habersham. Please call me back, or better yet, send a car to meet us at the hotel.”
“That’s enough.”
I hadn’t noticed anyone was listening until I looked up and saw Debra Holt pointing a gun at me.
Chapter 23
“I knew you would be trouble.” She smirked and extended her hand. “Now, give me that phone.”
I made an elaborate gesture of pushing disconnect and dropped the phone into my purse. “What are you going to do now? Kill me like you killed your uncle?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to be able to frame Clive for my murder. I’m not allergic to bees.” I prayed that was true. Actually, I’d never been stung by a bee, so I wasn’t exactly sure if I was allergic or not.
“I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“For the money, what else? He was loaded and planned on disinheriting me. I couldn’t let that happen now, could I?”
“But why frame Clive? What’d he ever do you?”
“Nothing. Clive was just a useful fall guy. He raised bees, and Uncle Horace was allergic. Someone had to take the blame for the murder.”
“And Mrs. Habersham?”
“That old woman was trying to take my inheritance for herself and her crazy daughter. Battling a DNA case could have held things up for years, and Sebastian and I have plans.” She glanced around. “Enough questions. Move.”
She slid into a seat so I could pass and then pointed her gun to indicate she wanted me to move to the front.
“My grandmother and the others will notice if we’re not on the bus.”
The doors on the bus opened, and everyone climbed aboard and began taking their seats.
Debra glanced at the window and caught Sebastian’s eye. He nodded and moved to the back of the queue.
I opened my mouth to scream when I saw Nana Jo climb aboard, but I quickly felt the gun muzzle in the small of my back. I felt the heat from Debra’s breath as she whispered in my ear, “One word and you’re a dead woman.”
I clamped my mouth shut but tried to send my grandmother a mental message. Unfortunately, my mental telepathy wasn’t working, and Nana Jo merely climbed aboard and took her seat.
I didn’t see D. S. Templeton anywhere.
After a few moments, Sebastian climbed aboard. He looked back at Debra. “What do you want me to do?”
She pushed me aside onto the seat and then held her gun up so everyone could see. “Close the door before that detective comes back.”
Sebastian did as he was told.
Debra walked to the front of the bus past all of the startled passengers. She pointed her gun at the driver. “Drive, and don’t make any funny moves or you’ll be the first to go.”
The driver started the engine and pulled the bus into the street.
From a window, I saw D. S. Templeton. She stared after the bus in shocked surprise and then quickly took out her cell phone.
The bus drove at a slow, meandering pace through the narrow village streets back toward the forested area.
Debra turned to Sebastian. “Tie them up.”
I stood to move back to my seat but was halted when Debra pointed her gun toward me. “Sit back down!”
I obeyed.
Debra turned to the bus driver and pointed. “Take that road.”
The driver steered the bus down the narrow, rocky path.
“Hurry up!” Deborah yelled to Sebastian.
He turned and held up his hands. “It’s bloody hard to tie people up without rope.” He held up a necktie and two belts he’d confiscated from Clive Green, Oscar Hoffman, and Albus Lavington.
She pointed the gun at Ruby Mae. “That one’s always knitting. Use the yarn.”
Debra looked out of the window and then ordered the driver to stop the bus. “Keep your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them.”
The bus driver did as he was told, and Debra reached in her purse and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “I knew these would come in handy.”
“Hey, those are mine,” Irma yelled.
“I snagged them after you held them up in the ballroom the other day.” Debra smirked. “This is a much better use, don’t you think?” She cuffed the driver to the steering wheel.
Sebastian made faster progress with the yarn. He quickly tied my hands together and joined Debra at the front of the bus.
Ruby Mae was maneuvering, and I was sure she and Nana Jo were up to something. I also hoped that my phone was still recording.
“You never told me how you did it!” I yelled.
Debra looked up. “Did what?”
“How’d you use the bee venom to kil
l your uncle?”
Debra smiled. “I didn’t.” She turned to Sebastian. “That was all Sebastian.”
Sebastian glared at Debra. “You told me to do it.”
“So, when you went to tell Major Peabody that the game was up, he was still alive?” I asked.
“It was horrible,” Sebastian said. “I had to plunge the needle into his chest, and he flopped around like a fish.”
“What are you going to do with us?” Professor Lavington asked.
Debra smirked. “You’re about to have an unfortunate bus accident.” She pointed to the cliff.
Nana Jo moaned. “Oh my goodness. I think I’m going to be sick. Please, help me.” She rose and took a few steps.
“Stay where you are,” Debra ordered.
Sebastian bent down and began to work on something under the steering column.
Nana Jo moaned louder. “Please. Please help me.”
Debra sighed and took a few steps forward. “I don’t know why I’m doing this since you’re just going to be dead in a few minutes anyway.”
Just as Debra reached the seat, Nana Jo lunged.
Ruby Mae plunged a knitting needle into Debra’s hand.
Debra screamed.
Nana Jo flipped Debra and held her on the ground and kicked the gun under the seats of the bus, out of reach.
Sebastian stood at the front of the bus, unsure what to do. He flipped the handle to open the door and took a step.
I slipped from my wool ties. I reached down and grabbed one of the rocks that I had picked up on the moors. Recalling my days from fast-pitch softball in high school, I wound up and sent the rock careening through the air. It hit its mark, striking Sebastian in the forehead. He was knocked out cold and crumpled like a deflated balloon.
The police sirens surrounding the bus drowned out the cheers from our fellow passengers.
“Still got your pitching arm,” Nana Jo said, smiling at me. “That’s my girl.”
Chapter 24
We waited on the bus while Dr. Blankenship attended to Debra Holt’s hand. Despite her cries to remove the knitting needle, he refused. Eventually, she passed out before the ambulance arrived.
