by Shéa MacLeod
I mulled over the facts as Tippy and I wandered slowly back to Endmere, ignoring the rain drizzling around us. The facts as I saw them were these:
1. There had been five house parties in Devon which had been robbed.
2. Of all the guests invited to these parties, only ten—if one included Lord Chasterly—had been at more than one of the house parties.
3. Of all the guests at the various parties, only three had been to all five parties. And of those three, one of them was dead.
I shuddered. Somehow that seemed a bad omen.
Chapter 10
I arrived back at the manor, dripping wet, to find the house in an uproar. Shouting echoed down the hall. Something crashed like glass splintering against stone. A woman shrieked angrily.
Penny was just crossing the foyer as I entered. “Goodness, Miss, you’re all wet. Here.” She thrust a fancy linen hanky on me.
“Oh, but this is too nice?” I said, noticing a small tear amongst the curlicued embroidery.
“Pish posh. Better than dripping all over the floor. Lord Chasterly has a whole stack of them. A woman from the village makes them for him. Just give it back when you’re done, and I’ll get it mended then and back to him. He’ll never notice it’s missing.”
“Thanks, Penny. You’re a doll.”
As I handed Tippy off to Penny, I asked, “What on Earth happened?”
“Young Mr. Simon accused Lady Fortescue of killing poor Mr. Frain,” she whispered. “Said she done him in just like she said she would.”
“Oh, dear,” I murmured.
“You got that right. Lady Fortescue, well, I don’t like to speak ill of my betters, but she lost the plot a bit, if you know what I mean.”
“I assume that means she had a temper tantrum.”
“Rather! Started screaming and throwing things and—when his lordship told her to stop at once—she started bawling her eyes out.” Penny’s own eyes were wide with excitement. “Lady Netherford—”
“Wait, that’s Toni, right?” I was starting to lose track what with all the Lord this and my Lady that. I was glad I was a plain Miss.
“Yes, Miss. Lady Netherford told Lady Fortescue to cut the dramatics, and Lady Fortescue tried to strangle her.”
“Holy cow,” I muttered.
“Indeed, Miss. Mr. Malburn tried to break it up, and Lady Fortescue slapped him and accused him of killing Mr. Frain. Which is nonsense, of course. How could someone as handsome as Mr. Malburn be a murderer?”
Which was the most ridiculous case for innocence I’d ever heard. William Heirens, known as the Lipstick Killer, had been caught just two years ago. He’d confessed to killing three people. I’d seen his picture in the paper and though he wasn’t my type, plenty of girls had thought he was good looking. Didn’t make him any less guilty.
At just that moment, Mary Parlance descended the stairs. She had an oddly majestic way about her like she just expected every head to turn and every eye to be on her. In this case, they certainly were, even though the only eyes present were mine, Penny’s, and Tippy’s. And Tippy wasn’t impressed. I was, though. Mary was the sort of girl that just glowed golden: golden hair, golden skin, and gold-flecked blue eyes. No doubt she’d been born with a gold spoon in her mouth rather than a silver one. Her slender figure looked well in a gray belted dress.
“Quite a ruckus,” she said in an unperturbed tone.
Penny opened her mouth, probably to give Mary the same story she’d given me, but Mary walked past her like she wasn’t even there. I half expected Penny to be upset, but she didn’t even blink. Like this was business as usual. And maybe it was. These fancy people sure liked to treat their staff like they were so much wallpaper.
“Come on, Tippy,” Penny said. “Let’s go downstairs and find you a treat.”
Tippy’s tail wagged wildly as he followed her to the kitchen. He knew what “treat” meant. He was incredibly smart when he wanted to be. The rest of the time I swear he had selective hearing.
I followed Mary into the sitting room which the police had finally released. We were about to enter when Lil came storming out, face red and blotchy, eyes burning with inner fire and ringed in running mascara.
“I’m not staying here another minute,” she shouted as she marched up the stairs.
“The police won’t be happy,” I murmured. “They seemed very serious about everyone staying put.”
“Oh, but she’s Lady Fortescue,” Mary said, as if that explained everything. Which maybe it did. England wasn’t the only place where wealth and status could get a person out of a sticky situation.
Problem was, how was I expected to do my job if all the suspects flew the coop? I dithered. Perhaps if I approached it just right...
“Will you excuse me?” I said to Mary. “I need to visit the ladies’ room.”
She gave me a blank look. “Do what you want. I don’t care.”
I hurried up the stairs and down the hall to Lil’s room. The door stood wide open, and an open suitcase lay on the bed. She was in a fury, throwing things in willy-nilly without even waiting for a maid. Admittedly, I wouldn’t have waited for a maid, but I’m not used to having one and Lil was. Or at least, I assumed so based on what I knew of English society.
I rapped on the door and waited for her to look up.
“Oh, it’s you.” She went back to throwing things in her case. By now it was completely overflowing, and a slinky rose-pink silk dress slipped to puddle on the floor.
I stepped in and picked it up, laying it carefully across the bed. “I just thought I’d check on you. You’ve had such a fright.”
That stopped her. She stared at me, a Copen blue peignoir clutched to her chest. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” I said thoughtfully, “your jewelry getting stolen. Then the police accusing you of horrible things. It must have been terrible.”
She almost wilted. “You see! You understand. It is terrible, and I didn’t do it. Truly I didn’t.”
“Of course not. Anyone can see that.” I didn’t offer any reason as to why since the truth was, anyone couldn’t see that. She was shaping up to be the perfect suspect even in my eyes, but pointing that out wouldn’t do me any favors if I wanted to get information out of her. “And this isn’t the first time. You poor thing. I can’t imagine having to deal with so many robberies. What a trial.”
She sank down on the bed. “You are so right. It’s been exhausting constantly worrying about my things getting stolen or being murdered in my bed. And then the police and everyone accusing me of killing Raymond. As if I ever would. Not that he didn’t deserve it. Ghastly business. How dare he steal from his betters!”
“Uh, sorry, I thought Mr. Frain was one of your circle?” At least that was the feeling I got from everyone else.
She snorted. “Hardly. Young upstart. Son of nobody. He just got lucky, and people like his trashy novels.”
Sounded like bitter grapes to me. Here she was, a woman of title and position but no money, probably because she thought working was beneath her. Meanwhile, Raymond Frain worked his backside off and made good, but because he didn’t have a title, she thought she was better than he was. I disliked her more all the time, but that didn’t mean she was a murderer. Didn’t mean she wasn’t, either.
“Where are you going to go?” I asked, taking out a slip and folding it neatly. My mother had taught me to fold clothes from the tender age of five. I’d never been very particular about it, but I could do a half decent job of it.
“Home, of course,” she said. “I’m tired of the country. At least there are things to do in London.” Although she looked a little pinched around the eyes as if she was worried. I was betting London was difficult when one was broke.
I folded a sweater and then a blouse. “That makes sense. London is so exciting. I’d never been abroad before until I arrived in London.”
She sniffed a little haughtily I thought. “Let the maid do that.”
“I thought you were
in a hurry.”
“I am, but it should be done right.” She got up and grabbed a train case from the top of the wardrobe. With one sweep of her hand, she shoved everything off the vanity into it.
I winced at the sound of something breaking. The strong aroma of roses filled the air, and I sneezed.
Lil let out a very unladylike word. “I guess I’ll have to visit Harrods and get that replaced.”
I wondered if she could afford it or if she planned to steal it. That thought shocked me. When had I become such a suspicious person? Possibly the day Mr. Woodward had hired me to poke my nose into strangers’ business. “I thought the police wanted everyone to stay here.”
“The police can hang,” she snapped. “I didn’t have anything to do with this, and they can’t make me stay.”
I was pretty sure she was wrong about that. “Maybe we can prove to them you had an alibi.” Not to mention it would allow me to find out what her alibi was, if she had one.
She blinked at me. “An alibi?”
“Yes. For the time of Mr. Frain’s murder. If we show them you couldn’t possibly have done it, then they have to let you go back to London, don’t they?”
“I suppose you’re right. How do we do that?”
“Well,” I pretended to mull it over. “First, I suppose we need to establish a timeline.”
“All right.” She set her train case on the vanity and sank onto the stool.
“For instance, what time did you go to bed last night?”
“Early,” she said. “You were there, and you saw me leave.”
“That’s right.” She’d claimed to have a headache. “That was about ten. I went up right after you.”
“So you’re my alibi?”
“Afraid not. Everyone else, including Frain, was still awake and in the sitting room. I fell asleep almost right away, so I’m no use.”
“Oh.”
“According to the police, Frain was killed between midnight and two in the morning,” I said. “Where were you then?”
“Asleep, of course. I took headache powders and went straight to bed.”
“But you woke up, right?”
“Yes.” She tapped her chin with a peach-colored nail. “I woke about a quarter to three. I was feeling a bit muzzy-headed and thirsty, so I went into the lavatory to get some water. Then I went back to bed, but I couldn’t fall asleep again.”
“So you got up?”
“Yes. I thought maybe some fresh air. A walk in the garden,” she said. “Then I heard the scream like everyone else, and I ran downstairs.”
And then there was Raymond’s poor dead body and the rest of us gathered around it.
She sighed heavily. “It’s not a very good alibi, is it?”
“Afraid not.”
She shook her head. “I never did have any luck unless it was rotten.”
UNTIL I HEARD BACK from Jack about Alexander Malburn’s whereabouts the night of the murder, there wasn’t anything I could do about him. Next on the list would have to be the Parlances.
According to Toni, Simon hadn’t been at the first house party, which likely meant he wasn’t a viable suspect, but it didn’t rule him out entirely. I wanted to know why he hadn’t gone, and his sister had, since the two of them seemed inseparable by all accounts.
I caught Simon in the library, reading a book. I don’t know why that surprised me. I suppose I’d assumed that with his tanned skin and fit physique, he was one of those sporty types who hadn’t time for cerebral pursuits.
“Oh, sorry,” I said cheerfully. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” Which was an utter lie, of course, though I was getting pretty good at it. Lying, I mean. I wondered if I should worry about that.
He glanced up, his expression warming when he saw me. “No worries.” He set the book aside. It was a collection of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Double surprise. “Can I be of assistance? What are you looking for?”
My mind went blank. “Oh, just something light to read. Trying to take my mind off all this.” I waved my hand in the general direction of the sitting room.
“It is quite shocking,” he said sympathetically.
“Very. I’ve never been involved in a criminal investigation before.”
He smiled. “It’s not terribly exciting. Especially as the police like to keep you cooped up in the house until they’re satisfied you didn’t do it.”
“You make it sound like you’ve been through this before.” I perched on the chair across from him and studied his face. Good heavens to Betsy, he was handsome.
“I have. This is my fourth time, actually.”
“Fourth!” I let out a dramatic gasp.
“Well, the other three weren’t murders.” He chuckled, but it sounded forced.
“You mean those robberies Toni told me about,” I said, throwing poor Lady Netherfield under the bus.
He chuckled again, but his eyes weren’t smiling. “That woman does love to gab. Yes, that’s what I mean. Each time I’ve been stuck at some loathsome country house longer than I wished.”
“Why do you go to them if you don’t like them? The country house parties, I mean.”
He didn’t answer, only gave me a somewhat sly look. Which only increased my suspicions.
“You said four, but weren’t there five robberies?” I asked instead.
“Ah, yes, of course, but I wasn’t at the first. My sister was. Believe me, I heard all about it.”
“Weren’t you invited?” I clapped my hand over my mouth as if suddenly realizing I was being gauche. Sometimes it paid off if people thought you were a bumbling idiot. “Oh, sorry. That was rude, wasn’t it?”
He laughed. “I was invited, of course. Mary and I usually go everywhere together, but I was a bit under the weather that week, so I stayed home. In London. Poor Mary. She’s said she’ll never go to another party unless I’m there.”
Yet another thing I’d need Jack to check on. I’d have to use Freddy’s phone and ring up Mr. Woodward’s office. Surely he could get Jack a message.
“I don’t blame her,” I said. “It would have been terribly nerve wracking to be alone at such a horrible time.”
“You’re alone, and you seemed to manage.”
“Ah, well, it probably has to do with my work during the war.”
He raised a brow. “Were you a spy or something? How exciting.”
I burst out laughing. “No. I worked in the shipyards. As a welder.”
“How... interesting.” He didn’t sound interested. He sounded appalled.
“We all had to do our bit,” I reminded him.
“True. But welding. It’s such a masculine occupation, isn’t it?”
“I’m certain you had women welders here,” I said a little defensively.
“Of course. But not of our class of person.”
Oh, right, because I was supposed to be wealthy. I decided a swift subject change was called for. “What would you be doing if you weren’t stuck here?”
He launched into a long and boring soliloquy about his love for fast cars and his plans for some race or other. I admit I tuned him out, giving a vague smile and nod where appropriate. It did the trick. He kept blathering, completely unaware that he would have been boring me to tears if I’d been paying attention.
Based on his clothing and his talking of race cars, it didn’t seem like he needed money, but that didn’t mean anything. He could have done the burglaries out of sheer boredom. Nor did missing out on the first party rule him out. Devon wasn’t that far from London by car, and if he was a racing driver, he could have easily made it out here, robbed the party, and gone back in record time.
He may not be top of my list, but Simon was still very definitely in my crosshairs. At least for now.
“And Mary goes with you to these races?” I asked when he stopped for air.
“Oh, no. She doesn’t care for them. Says they’re loud and smelly and there are no interesting men.” He guffawed at that.
S
o they weren’t as joined at the hip as everyone thought. Which made it odd that they always went to house parties together. Oh, sure, there was the excuse that she was scared about the robberies, but she hadn’t seemed scared to me. She’d seemed... annoyed and maybe a little angry.
I was definitely going to have to dive deeper into this brother and sister duo. But for now, I didn’t trust them. Not one bit.
Chapter 11
The morning rain had stopped and the gloom had burned off, leaving the countryside around the manor house drenched in dappled sunlight. Light sparkled off the waves crashing beneath the cliff, and little white sails bobbed out at sea. I wasn’t sure if they were fishing boats or pleasure craft. Didn’t matter. It was terribly picturesque.
After leaving a message for Jack with Mr. Woodward, I wandered outside to enjoy the sunshine. Steam curled off dripping greenery and the air hung heavy and moist, smelling of petrichor and sea salt.
I found Mary sunning herself in the garden. Which seemed a little strange to me. A man had just been murdered. A man who, if not her friend, had certainly been an acquaintance. A member of her circle. Now here she was not twelve hours later lounging on a lawn chair in nothing but a hot pink bikini and a pair of the new harlequin-style sunglasses in green plastic frames.
I’d never seen a real live person wearing a bikini before. Naturally, I’d seen the photos when the garment had first come out two years previously. Such scandal had ensued! All that bared flesh. Shocking!
Personally, I thought they were rather nice if one had the figure for it. And clearly Mary had. Plus all that gorgeous bronzed skin. I was a little envious of her bravery and her tan.
“What a lovely day,” I said inanely.
“I suppose,” she drawled, not moving.
I took a lawn chair in the shade. I am woefully pale and tend to turn red as a lobster in the sun, which also gives me a headache if the light is too bright. I wondered if I could get a pair of harlequin sunglasses like Mary’s. In blue, maybe. Blue is my favorite color.
