Murder in Black Tie

by Sara Rosett

  “I’m glad,” I said, and I meant it.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Her worried look returned as she added, “Cecil plans to contact the bishop and explain what happened. I don’t like the idea, but your father assures me that the bishop can be trusted to keep the details confidential. Cecil says that since I truly believed I was a widow when we married that everything will be fine.”

  “I’m sure it will be. After all, the British government believed he was dead.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” she said in a slightly more relieved tone.

  Goodness, I was reassuring Sonia—that was something I’d never thought would happen. I’d always considered her an interfering, bossy interloper, but I couldn’t think of her that way anymore, not now that I knew her background.

  Sonia stood up abruptly and shook out her long skirts. “I must be going.” She turned back from the door, hesitated, then said, “Perhaps you’ll come by Tate House for a cup of tea before you return to London?”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  She nodded, then left the room.

  I put on my hat and gloves. If someone had told me when I left London that Sonia and I would reach a tentative rapport before I returned, I wouldn’t have believed them. I wasn’t completely sure the situation would last, but I liked it better than the tension which had always marked our relationship. I picked up my handbag and met Miss Miller in the hallway. We descended the stairs together. “Are you on your way home today?” I asked her.

  “I am. That nice inspector returned my letter to me.” She patted the pocket of her dress. “I plan to return to Parkview next week for a bridge tournament Caroline is hosting. Will you be here as well?”

  “I don’t think so.” I sincerely hoped that by next week I’d be settled in new lodgings in London.

  “Then goodbye, my dear.” She patted my hand. “Thank you so much for your help. Now, there was a marmalade on the breakfast table this morning that was especially tasty. I think I detected a hint of honey in it. I must get the recipe before I depart . . .” She drifted off in the direction of the breakfast room.

  I asked Brimble to have my bags brought down, and I was just turning away when Mr. Davis’s rotund figure emerged from Uncle Leo’s study. He held some papers in one hand and his pince-nez in his other. “Good morning, Miss Belgrave,” he said, then without pausing for me to answer, he turned to the butler. “Where is Sir Leo?”

  “He is with Mr. Peter on the north grounds of the estate.”

  “Then is the inspector still here?”

  “No, but I believe he will return later today.”

  “Notify me immediately when he arrives. I must speak to him. It’s urgent. Extremely urgent.”

  “Very good, Mr. Davis.” Brimble inclined his head and went to see to coordinating my bags.

  “You seem distressed, Mr. Davis,” I said.

  He tapped the paper with his pince-nez. “This is evidence. It must have sat on my desk for several days, which is disturbing when one thinks of it.”

  “Evidence? What do you mean?”

  “It’s a letter written by Mr. Payne.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “May I?” I asked Mr. Davis.

  “Certainly.” He handed it to me as he said, “Sir Leo left it on my desk for me to file. He noted on the envelope that it contained an invoice for the maps, but that”—he tapped the paper with his glasses—“is different from business correspondence. Quite different.”

  I looked up from skimming the letter to the envelope Mr. Davis was waving. It was the envelope I’d seen on his desk when I telephoned Boggs.

  “I think I know what happened,” I said slowly. “There was another envelope in Mr. Payne’s room. I saw it when Inspector Longly had the room searched. It contained an invoice for the maps. Inspector Longly thought it was a copy of an invoice, but I bet what happened is that there was only one invoice, not an invoice and a copy of it. Mr. Payne must have used the writing paper from the desk to compose an invoice. Then he used the same writing paper to write this letter. He put both pieces of paper in envelopes, then picked up the wrong envelope and gave it to Uncle Leo, thinking it was the invoice for the maps. Did Uncle Leo open the envelope?”

  “No, he never opens invoices. He always sends them directly to me.”

  “So this is the note Deena was looking for.”

  “The young woman who—er—caused so much unpleasantness?”

  “Yes, she searched Mr. Payne’s room the night after he was killed, looking for this letter.” I read through the note again more slowly.

  * * *

  I, Vincent Payne, witnessed Deena Lacey suffocate her cousin, Bobby Stanton, in November 1914. This event occurred when I was a patient recovering from war injuries at Parkview Hall. I was assigned to the mahogany room, which I shared with Mr. Stanton.

  I was rather done in and under medication quite a lot, but I was aware of nurses and doctors arriving and departing as well as occasional visitors such as Miss Lacey. She came to read to us and write our letters. One day I was drifting in and out of consciousness when I thought I saw her leaning over Mr. Stanton, holding a pillow to his face.

  My memories of that time were once hazy, but my visit to Parkview has brought that time into focus. Perhaps I had suppressed the memory because there were so many other horrible things I was trying not to remember as well, but when I stood there in the mahogany room and Miss Lacey was there as well, it all came back to me like a film at the cinema.

  I’d been given a dose of medicine that morning and felt lethargic. I opened my eyes—barely slit them—and saw Miss Deena Lacey standing beside Mr. Stanton’s bed. I tried to stay awake, but my eyes kept closing. I remember thinking it was a shame I wouldn’t be able to talk to the young lady. I must have drifted off, but I heard a noise—a strange noise—a body shifting, thrashing about. I opened my eyes again, and she was pressing a pillow onto Stanton’s face. Then she stepped back and watched him for a moment. I was going to call out, but when I saw her watching him—checking to make sure he was gone—I lost my nerve. I closed my eyes again, so she’d think I was asleep. I was afraid I might be next if she knew I’d seen her. When I opened my eyes again, she was gone. A nurse came in, gave me another injection, and hushed me when I tried to tell her what had happened. The medicine took effect, and I couldn’t stay awake.

  The next time I awoke, the nurse told me Mr. Stanton had been moved to another room, and Miss Lacey hadn’t been in to visit for days. I kept quiet because I thought I was cracking up. I didn’t want to be one of those lads who couldn’t handle themselves. I thought the whole thing must have been a horrible nightmare.

  It was a month later when I learned Mr. Stanton had indeed died. By then, I was questioning my own memories. Had I actually seen what I thought I’d seen? Was it the medicine? Had it caused me to imagine things? And what happened to Miss Lacey? I didn’t see her again at Parkview Hall.

  I realize now it was no hallucination. When I told her about my memory, her reaction told me everything I needed to know in one startled glance. It was true. She had killed Bobby Stanton, and I’d seen her do it. I’m writing this down as a sort of insurance policy. Miss Lacey is going to give me a tidy little payment to ensure my silence—and I’ll tell her about this letter—but if anything happens to me, it’ll be Deena who did it.

  * * *

  I looked up from the letter. “How horrifying.”

  Mr. Davis put a hand to his necktie. “Indeed.”

  A throat cleared behind us, and Inspector Longly stepped forward. “Miss Belgrave. I see you are, as usual, in the midst of the most exciting revelations.”

  “But I missed one important bit of news. Congratulations on your engagement.”

  He blushed just as Gwen had done and smiled widely. He looked truly happy as he said, “Thank you.”

  “I look forward to having you as a cousin-in-law.”

  He looked stunned as if he hadn’t thought about
that. I handed him the note. “You’ll find this fascinating reading,” I said and described how the note and the invoice must have been switched.

  Brimble approached me as I finished and asked, “Shall I have your bags loaded into your motor, Miss Belgrave?”

  “Yes, please do.”

  As I left, Longly was escorting Mr. Davis back to the study and asking questions about the envelope and letter.

  A few minutes later, I’d said my goodbyes to Aunt Caroline and Gwen. When I inquired after Jasper, Brimble told me Jasper had already breakfasted and gone out for a short stroll.

  “How unusual,” I said. Jasper wasn’t typically so enthusiastic about exercise. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see him in London.” I’d send a note around to him once I was back in town. Perhaps we’d have tea at the Savoy.

  The Morris was brought around, and I was halfway down the staircase on my way to the sweep in front of the house when Gigi called my name. She gave Captain Inglebrook’s arm a squeeze and motioned for him to stay outside the door, then ran down to me. “Olive, you can’t leave. Remember there was something I want to speak to you about?”

  “I’m sorry. I completely forgot with everything else that happened.”

  “I made an exception to my rule about rising before noon specifically for you. I knew you’d be off as soon as possible, and I must talk to you. My situation is merely a trifle, but I’d like your help.”

  “My help?”

  “It’s Grandmother Pearl. She thinks someone is trying to kill her,” she said in the same tone someone would use to describe a child who believed unicorns existed.

  “You think she’s imagining things.”

  Gigi tilted her head back and forth as if she couldn’t make up her mind. “Well, she’s difficult enough that someone probably does want to kill her. The thought has crossed my mind, believe me, but I’ve never acted on it.” Gigi smiled at her own joke, but after the situation at Parkview, suspecting relatives of murder struck a little too close to home. Gigi didn’t notice my subdued reaction, and went on, “But yes, her imagination has . . . gotten away from her lately. I understand you’re in a bit of a bind as far as living quarters?”

  “That’s true.”

  “Then why don’t you come and stay at my flat in London? I have plenty of room. We can visit Grandmother, and you can help her understand she’s simply mistaken.”

  “Sounds intriguing, and I love intriguing situations.”

  “Excellent. I convinced Captain Inglebrook he should spend some time in London as well. We can attend parties and shop and dine at the best restaurants.”

  “I’ll come stay with you for a few days. Say, starting next week?”

  “Perfect.” She leaned in and kissed the air near my cheek. “Goodbye, darling. See you soon.” She ran back upstairs in a flurry of swishing fabric.

  I descended the stairs and climbed into the Morris. I was about to put the motor in gear when Jasper appeared on the passenger side and propped an arm on the door. “Got room for one more?”

  “Of course. Would you like me to run you up to London?”

  “Oh, it’s not for me.” He stepped back and lifted Mr. Quigley’s cage. “Aunt Caroline thinks you and Mr. Quigley have quite an affinity. She’d like you to take him to London. She says she’ll send his larger cage as soon as you give her your new location.”

  “She wants me to take Mr. Quigley?” I barely had a place for myself to lay my own head. I couldn’t take charge of a parrot as well. “But he’d be so much happier in the conservatory.”

  “I floated that idea, but Aunt Caroline said only for short visits. She isn’t taking on a parrot as a pet.”

  “Well, I’m not either.” Mr. Quigley cocked his head to the side and let out a clicking sound. I sighed. “I suppose I can keep him until I find a new home for him.”

  “Brilliant. And since you’re on your way to London, I will catch a ride with you as far as Upper Benning. My motor should be repaired by now. That is, if you have the space,” he said, his gaze ranging over the luggage stacked in the seat.

  “There’s always room for you, Jasper.”

  “That is good news,” he said softly.

  I smiled at him, catching the extra layer of meaning his tone gave the words. I handed him my valise so he could shift it around to make room. “I don’t have room for a parrot and Grigsby, though.”

  Jasper waved a hand. “Grigsby is returning to London on the train. He doesn’t like riding with me for some reason.”

  Once his bags were stowed and Mr. Quigley’s cage was positioned between us on the front seat, I took off down the drive. “So, Jasper,” I said, “have you ever considered owning a parrot?”

  Want to know when the next High Society Lady Detective book is coming out? Sign up for Sara’s Notes and News Updates at SaraRosett.com/signup and get her mystery book recommendations and news about sales and discounts.

  The Story Behind the Story

  Thank you for joining Olive for another mystery among the high society set. One of my favorite things about writing Olive’s adventures is the research. Because the mystery for this book had its roots in the past, I delved into World War I history and read about life in the trenches as well as on the home front. Lady Almina and the Real Downtown Abbey: The Lost Legacy of Highclere Castle by the Countess of Carnarvon provided the inspiration for the descriptions of Parkview Hall’s transformation into a hospital for injured servicemen.

  Shortly after war was declared in 1914, Lady Almina converted Highclere Castle into a place of healing and recovery to fill an urgent need for a country unprepared to care for the enormous number of the wounded. I was surprised to learn that a broken femur, like Mr. Payne’s injury, was often a death sentence. It was the use of a specially designed splint, called the Thomas splint, that dramatically increased the survival rate.

  Mr. Payne’s unique fraud of selling antique maps with forged signatures is based on the Lincoln Forgeries, a scam that Eugene Field II carried out in real life. He inherited books from his grandfather and forged Abraham Lincoln’s signature on them. Eventually, he took on a partner and branched out, forging Lincoln’s signature as well as Rudyard Kipling’s, Theodore Roosevelt’s, and Samuel Clemens’s on maps, books, and other documents during the 1920s and 1930s. It’s truly ironic that these forgeries are now sought after by collectors. It seemed just the sort of fraud that Mr. Payne would get up to. Forging paintings would be far too much work for him! Adding signatures to old maps and visiting country houses to pass them off to unsuspecting collectors—that was something that would appeal to a lazy conman.

  I also did a deep dive into conservatories in British country homes. I modeled Parkview Hall on Chatsworth House. Chatsworth’s orangery is now the estate’s shop, and it was fun to browse among the books and tea towels when I visited there and imagine what it must have been like when orange trees filled the room. Chatsworth was also home to one of the most dramatic “glass houses” in the world. Constructed under gardener and architect Sir Joseph Paxton, Chatsworth’s Great Conservatory was over 200 feet long and over 100 feet wide. It was the largest glass structure in the world when it was built in 1836. Heated with boilers that fueled 12,000 lamps, it was a forerunner of the Crystal Palace, which Paxton would go on to design. Sadly, the Great Conservatory had to be destroyed during the Great War because the cost of maintaining it was too high. The conservatory at Parkview isn’t as grand as the Great Conservatory, but I did have the amazing conservatories with their lush tropical plants in mind when writing about the conservatory in this book.

  A few other interesting tidbits of research popped up, including the Chanel suit that Deena wears on the picnic. Coco Chanel is famous for designing comfortable and stylish clothing with jersey, a knit material that had previously been used for men’s undergarments. Her famous tweed suit appeared in the early 1920s. I found an image of a tweed Chanel suit published in 1924, which popularized the new casual style. I knew Deena, who was on the cutting
edge of fashion, would have snapped it up at its debut in Paris.

  Another research rabbit hole I went down was about soldiers’ reading habits during the war. Books were supplied to the troops, and the commanding officers reported their men had a preference for Jane Austen, which doesn’t surprise me at all. What better way to escape the chaos of war than with one of Austen’s novels, which are full of gentle humor and deep human emotion. Another reading favorite during the 1920s was The Thirty-Nine Steps, which was published in 1915. I’d only seen the black-and-white Hitchcock film version of the novel, but after learning it was such a popular book, I read it while researching Murder in Black Tie. One caveat about the book: a character in The Thirty-Nine Steps has jarringly anti-Semitic attitudes, which are eventually discredited. The breathless pace of one of the first “man on the run” stories was so popular, it influenced movies like North by Northwest and The Bourne Identity.

  Thanks again for reading Murder in Black Tie! Check out my Pinterest board for Murder in Black Tie to see more details about the places and people that inspired the book. Sign up for my Notes and News Updates at SaraRosett.com/signup to get my reading recommendations as well as updates about upcoming books and sale news. I’d love to stay in touch!

  Also by Sara Rosett

  This is Sara Rosett’s complete library at the time of publication, but Sara has new books coming out all the time. Sign up for her updates at SaraRosett.com/signup to stay up to date on new releases.

  * * *

  High Society Lady Detective

  Murder at Archly Manor

  Murder at Blackburn Hall

  The Egyptian Antiquities Murder

  Murder in Black Tie