A Pretty Deceit

by Anna Lee Huber

  Except Mr. Green had left his home at nine thirty the evening before and never returned, and the backfilled holes scattered across this parkland attested to the fact that something else was going on. I couldn’t see how any of that connected to the airfield, except by proximity, and yet, there was something about Captain Willoughby I didn’t trust.

  Perhaps I was being paranoid, imagining a villain around every corner. But my instincts had gotten me safely through dozens of trips under the electrified fence into occupied Belgium and back, it had seen me through four dangerous murder investigations, and it had alerted me to the fact that Ardmore was a villain even before I had proof of it. I was not about to turn my back on it now. Not when the hairs at the back of my neck still tingled with awareness and my nerves felt on edge.

  Sidney, on the other hand, didn’t seem to feel any similar qualms. He stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, his shoulders relaxed, as he made a derisive quip. But, of course, he had always been good at concealing what he didn’t wish to be seen. “I suppose he didn’t see any of the ghosts then?”

  Captain Willoughby laughed. “Been listening to the locals, have you?” He shook his head. “No more than anywhere else. And the barrow they’re so concerned with lies two hundred feet to the north of the airfield property, in some farmer’s field. For heaven’s sake, the site was surveyed before anything was ever built over it.” For all that he affected good humor, it was clear that this persistent rumor irritated him.

  “Then the maids need not quake in fear to come in this direction?” I bantered.

  “Do they do that?” he asked in disbelief, and then shook his head at their gullibility.

  I’d hoped he might mention Minnie—the absconding maid—who it seemed had rendezvoused with her airman lover nearby numerous times, or even Opal; but either he didn’t know about them, or he was intent on keeping the matter to himself.

  “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Swing by the airfield sometime if you’ve the mind for a tour.” He flashed us another grin. “I’m sure we can grant the intrepid Kents a tour.” He turned to me. “And, please, offer Miss Musselwhite my condolences on her loss. I suppose doubly so,” he added after a moment of consideration. For if Mrs. Green was guilty of murder, she’d lost not only her brother-in-law, but also her sister.

  “I will.”

  We watched him for a moment as he strode away, and then Sidney threaded his arm through mine and pulled me away. I didn’t resist, particularly when I noted that he’d maneuvered our path so that the copse of beech trees stood between us and the retreating captain. Rather than return to the path we’d taken, he seemed to be aiming for a more wooded stretch deeper into the park. I knew then that he had not been as at ease as he’d appeared to be.

  “What just happened?” I finally ventured to ask once the apprehension prickling along my senses had retreated, and the sound of cheerful bird chatter in the trees above soothed away some of my tension.

  Sidney stared ahead of us, a vee forming between his brows. “I don’t know. But something wasn’t right. You sensed it, and I sensed it. And that was a good enough reason for me for us to make a hasty retreat.”

  I inhaled a deep breath of the crisp air. “Yes, but what was wrong?”

  He shook his head. “All I know is the next time we go there, I won’t be leaving my Luger in the glove box.”

  “Will we return there?” I asked, perhaps naïvely. “Haven’t we learned everything we needed to? Mr. Green and perhaps someone else were searching for something. Probably more Roman coins.” I frowned and tugged my collar up higher against the wind. “Besides, if those toxicology tests indicate Mr. Green was killed with nicotine, then it’s probable the police have it right and Mrs. Green did commit the crime, whether she remembers doing so or not.”

  “And so you’ll be content to leave it at that?” Sidney asked doubtfully.

  “If all the evidence points in that direction, then yes.”

  He pulled me to a stop and turned to gaze down at me. “Cut line, Ver. Do you honestly expect me to swallow that?”

  I glared at him imperiously. “You know, I am trying to be reasonable, but between my parents, my aunt, and you, it seems you want me to get mixed up in this investigation.”

  This gave him pause, and I could tell he was considering my words. “That isn’t fair of us, is it?”

  “No, it’s not.” I turned to the side. “Though, I’m not truly cross at you,” I admitted. “At least, not since you tried to discourage me from investigating Emilie’s disappearance in July. You’ve come around remarkably well.” It was my family who bemoaned my exploits and hoydenish tendencies, stopping just short of calling me a pert hussy.

  He stepped closer. “Yes, but I also know what you really did during the war.”

  I frowned. “And if my mother and aunt knew, they would be even more horrified. They would both probably suffer a fit of nerves from which they would never recover.”

  “I’m not sure you give them enough credit.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “I think I give them too much credit.”

  His eyes gleamed with quiet affection. “Well, frustrating as it is, I know you’re not going to allow their opinion—unfavorable or not—to stop you from uncovering the truth.”

  “That’s true,” I grudgingly conceded, looking up at the stolid block of Littlemote House just visible in the distance between the trees. The variations in its flint roof glinted in the sun. “But we’re unlikely to uncover anything more about the nature of how Mr. Green died until those toxicology tests are completed. And we can’t dally here any longer when Max is waiting for us.”

  “Agreed. I know how anxious you are to discover whatever evidence the late Earl of Ryde was alluding to in his letter.”

  “And collect it before Ardmore or his men can intercept it,” I added gravely.

  “Then let’s leave for the Isle of Wight now. If we hurry, we just might be able to catch the evening ferry. Your aunt can telephone us when the police know what poison Mr. Green succumbed to.”

  I began marching toward the house. “And this time, I’ll make it clear to Aunt Ernestine that she’s to contact us, not my parents, if there are further developments or she has need of us.”

  “Best inform Miles of that, too.”

  I tossed an arch smile over my shoulder in recognition of the fact that the butler handled making whatever telephone calls my aunt wished to make, before passing her the device. “Good point.”

  CHAPTER 16

  We pulled into the long drive leading up to Nettlestone Hall just as the last colors of sunset began to fade from the horizon, leaving a brilliant inky-blue sky. The canopy of beech trees overhead, their brilliant leaves muted to shades of gray, soon gave way to the wide expanse of the heavens, where the brightest stars had begun to wink through the firmament. Bright white fences bordered the lane, pointing like arrows to the sprawling limestone manor at the end.

  “Mind the hounds,” I reminded Sidney perhaps unnecessarily, as he’d already begun to apply the brakes to his speeding Pierce-Arrow. Like all good British gentlemen, he possessed a fondness for dogs, and Max’s two caramel-coated bloodhounds had quickly wormed their way into his good graces during our last visit.

  True to form, shortly after he brought the motorcar to a stop before the manor’s spectacular arched entryway, the two hounds came bounding through the door to greet us. I was relieved to see Max following close behind them, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers and an amused grin softening his face.

  “They’ve been pacing the floor for the last half hour. Must have somehow sensed you were nearby.”

  Sidney squatted down to ruffle the ears of one of the dogs while the other circled back to beg for attention from me. “But of course, you did. Clever old chap.”

  “We would have been here sooner, but we just missed the earlier ferry,” I told Max, arching up on my toes to buss his cheek in greeting before lavishing my attention on the o
ther hound.

  “Well, I’m glad you arrived when you did.” Our host tossed a teasing glare over his shoulder at the man emerging from house. “I thought Xavier was going to take up permanent residence staring out the windows.”

  The sight of Alec standing in the shaft of light cast through the open doorway startled me, causing me to momentarily falter in my petting of the smaller hound. I’d not intended for Alec himself to escort Max, or for them to interact. So to find him here, staying in Max’s home and gazing at me in that guarded manner, told me beyond a shadow of a doubt, something significant had gone wrong.

  “I wasn’t searching out the window for them,” he replied.

  And for the second time that day, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise as I turned my head to search the darkness settling around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Sidney had risen to his feet to do likewise.

  “Then perhaps we should go inside,” he suggested, rounding the motorcar to place a protective hand against the small of my back.

  Though disconcerted by Alec’s pronouncement, Max recovered quickly. “Yes, please come in.” He coaxed the dogs to follow and then led us into the house.

  As we passed Alec, he shot me a significant look, one that made Sidney stiffen. I knew my husband couldn’t be pleased to be forced into close proximity again with my former colleague. After all, he might have forgiven me for sleeping with Alec once after a fraught mission when I still believed Sidney to be dead, but that did not mean he wished for Alec’s continued company. The fact that C had assigned Alec as my handler for the unofficial investigations I’d undertaken for my former chief at the Secret Service was bad enough. But before now, our telephone conversations and clandestine meetings had been, by necessity, brief and usually conducted in an innocuously public setting. This was far more intimate.

  Still, I knew my husband trusted me. Or at least, I hoped he did. For I was about to put that to the test.

  When Max paused outside the door to the family parlor overlooking the gardens, which I knew he preferred to the formal drawing room at the front of the house, I excused myself, saying I wished to set myself to rights. He directed me toward the cloakroom, and after straightening my appearance and performing the necessary ablutions, I returned to the hall to find Alec waiting for me.

  “What happened?” I demanded in a low voice, casting a glance toward the open parlor door, where the rumble of Sidney’s and Max’s voices could be heard.

  “I couldn’t find anyone to shadow Ryde under such short notice, so I decided to do so myself.”

  “Did C know?”

  “Yes, and approved it.” His dark eyes glinted with unspoken things. “Provisionally.”

  I bit back a curse, for had I not needed to return to Littlemote, I would have been on that train with Max, and Alec wouldn’t be standing here. “I’m guessing those conditions got blown to bits, or else you would be back in London. Did Max recognize you?”

  One of his eyebrows quirked. “Give me some credit. I stayed well clear of him, while still keeping him in my line of sight.” He scowled. “But unfortunately, I didn’t know which other men to be wary of until it was too late. A fellow named Basil Scott recognized me, and I him. He worked for Military Intelligence under Charteris and then Cox at Haig’s Command in France during the war.”

  I nodded, trying to follow why the man’s name had caused a tightening around his eyes.

  “While I’ve been on desk duty these past few months, C asked me to review a number of files for candidates within the service for potential transfer to the Secret Service, including Scott’s.” Alec had taken a bullet in his shoulder in July during an investigation when he’d been assisting me and Sidney, and had yet to be cleared for active duty. “And while on the surface it appeared unexceptionable, I uncovered a few discrepancies, and a number of questionable connections and troubling occurrences which appeared to have been swept under the rug.” His gaze met mine significantly. “One of those connections was Ardmore.”

  My stomach tightened. “You think he’s working for Ardmore?”

  “I know he is. He didn’t take kindly to C turning him down.” His jaw tightened briefly. “He has a temper. And his methods seemed to be cut from Ardmore’s cloth.”

  I swallowed, wondering what precisely that meant. If Alec disapproved of them, they must be ignoble, indeed. “Did he follow you to Wight?”

  “Yes, which forced my hand. I couldn’t very well leave Ryde undefended. Not with you and C assuring me he was a critical asset. And not when I couldn’t be certain how much Scott knew. So I used that ridiculous code word you gave me.” His eyes glinted provocatively as a bit of his usual roguish persona showed through. “Thank heavens he knew what it meant.”

  He was angling for an explanation, but I wasn’t going to give it to him.

  “I imagine it helped that Max had met you in the War Office and already knew that we were friends and former colleagues.”

  His lips twisted. “Yes, well, in my opinion, he’s a bit too trusting. But I will say he’s been jolly decent not demanding an explanation from me or expecting me to tell him more than I can.”

  I glanced toward the parlor again, unable to disagree with this assessment. Max was too trusting. But then, Xavier and I had spent at least part of the war behind enemy lines, where lies and deceit were necessary for survival, and trust was a dangerous commodity. Even Sidney’s ability to trust had been shaken, not only by the destructive, foolhardy orders of his higher command, but also the betrayal of some of his closest friends and fellow officers. So in all likelihood, our perceptions were the ones that were skewed. But in this dangerous game of cat and mouse with Ardmore, none of us could risk letting our guards down. Not when the consequences had already proved deadly.

  “Well, don’t make the assumption that just because he hasn’t demanded an explanation means he hasn’t already figured much of it out. He knows we worked together in Belgium, and that I’ve been in touch with C. I’m sure he realizes your following him down here on my behalf means you’re in the thick of it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to stifle the growing agitation I felt. “And Ardmore must know now, too. That you’re helping me.” I lifted my gaze, not bothering to smother my next curse. “Blast it all! He’s probably already deduced that C is helping me, as well.”

  “I’m not sure I’d go that far.” But the way his eyes cut to the side once again, avoiding my gaze, told me he was as tense as I was. “After all, Ardmore is no fool. He must realize we have him under surveillance. Just as he’s had you and Kent being watched.”

  I struggled not to flinch at this blunt statement. Until two days ago, I hadn’t been certain Ardmore was having us watched. But apparently Alec—and C—had known for some time.

  “Perhaps he’ll believe we merely noticed his interest in Ryde, and so sought him out to discover why.”

  “Oh, balderdash, Alec! Don’t start lying to me now.” I turned away, scraping a hand over my face, and then stared up at the painting before me of the defeat of the Spanish Armada half hidden by shadow. “He knows we worked together in Brussels.” He’d even gone so far to allude to it in a snide, insinuating way, though I knew there was no way he could have known the truth about what happened. Alec was no tale-teller. And neither was Sidney.

  “And if he had harbored any uncertainty about us working together now, my showing up here this evening will seal the deal on that.” I turned to face him. “Or am I just imagining that you believe they have the manor under surveillance even now? That the dogs’ excitement earlier wasn’t due to the anticipation of our arrival, but because Ardmore’s men might have ventured closer to the manor?”

  “Dash it all, Verity. You never let me dither around the point, do you? Not even when it’s for your own good.”

  “How could that be for my own good?”

  His gaze bored into mine. “Because I know what’s going on in that brain of yours. You’re blaming yourself for blowing my cove
r. For showing your hand, per se, to Ardmore.” He shook his head. “Don’t do it, love. It’s likely he already knew anyway.”

  I scowled up at him, hating that he’d recognized the guilt and frustration roiling inside me. That my request for his help had outed him, and possibly my connection with C. That Ardmore should be two steps ahead of us at every turn.

  But before I could form a response, I heard Max’s voice growing louder. Recognizing our time was up, I arched my chin, telling him this discussion wasn’t over, and then brushed by him to stride across the hall toward the parlor.

  “Ah, here you are,” Max declared, meeting me as I entered. He passed me a gin rickey. “Kent was just telling me about the murder of that gardener at your aunt’s estate. Do you think his wife really did it?”

  “Early days,” I replied as my gaze met Sidney’s across the room. It was guarded, and I did my best to let him see the gratitude shining in my eyes for distracting Max while I spoke with Alec. Sidney’s eyes slid to the side to peer over my shoulder, and I assumed Alec had entered the room, for that inscrutable mask Sidney donned so often fell back into place.

  I crossed the room to stand beside him before the great stone hearth, the warmth of the crackling fire driving some of the chill from my bones. From the items strewn across the tables—glasses half filled with spirits, ashtrays sprinkled with cigarette butts, and even a book turned over open to mark its page—I could tell this was the room Max and Alec had occupied before our arrival. Which made it even more likely the dogs’ restlessness was not due to some sixth sense about the time of our arrival, but something else. I surveyed the tall windows looking out over the terrace and the night-shrouded garden beyond, wondering how thick the glass was and how close one needed to be to see inside.

  Not wanting to take any chances, I moved forward as nonchalantly as possible to close the heavy pigeon-blue drapes while Alec and Sidney greeted each other. However, Max was not fooled.