by Sara Rosett
A blur of navy filled the lens, and I pulled away from the eyepiece. I scanned the woods in the distance and didn’t see anything for a few moments, then I saw a flash of movement and adjusted the telescope. Holly moved to the edge of the trees at almost a run, then slowed as she cleared the woods. She went directly to the edge of the river that cut through Parkview’s estate and threw the bits of plastic and metal into the swiftly moving stream.
Chapter 9
“I WISH THERE WAS SOME way I could find out more about Holly,” I said to Alex. We were standing on one of the gravel paths that wound through the countryside and back to the village. It also happened to run along the stream downriver from where Holly had tossed her handful of useless electronics. Grace was trying to skip a stone across the water.
I threw out my arm and flicked the stone, trying to imitate Alex’s effortless tosses that sent his rocks dancing across the water. My stone plopped into the water and disappeared.
“I mean, her history, or, well, really anything about her. It’s quite a big step to go from destroying a cell phone—an old one, at that—to murdering your employer. And she has such a bouncy, perky disposition. I can’t imagine her posting those nasty things about Sir Harold, much less…” I glanced toward Grace, who didn’t seem to be interested in what I was saying, but amended what I’d been about to say, “anything violent.”
“But she is acting suspiciously,” Alex said, matching my quiet tone. He released a stone with a relaxed swing of his arm. It hopped across the water four times before sinking. “I think you should tell Beatrice and the DCI what you saw. And, I wish you’d come back to your cottage. There’s no need for you to stay here. I’m sure you have more than enough details for Elise.”
I agreed with him. I did need to tell Beatrice and Hopkins about Holly’s actions, but I wasn’t about to leave Parkview. “But there’s Beatrice to think of as well. I’m not going to go off and leave her when she doesn’t know who she can trust. I mean, imagine if you suspected someone you worked with was out to get you—how difficult would that be?”
“Sounds like a typical film set,” Alex said with a smile, and I rolled my eyes.
The smile dropped off his face. “So what are you going to do?”
“I’ll try and convince her and Sir Harold to stay at the Lodge until the DCI sorts out what has happened.”
“I doubt you’ll have any success. She’s a tough old bird and Sir Harold is too, for all his vagueness. In fact, she’s about as obstinate as you so you’ll have no luck there.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “And I mean obstinate in the most flattering way. You’re loyal and focused.”
“Well, as long as you mean it in the nicest way possible, I’ll let it go.” I tossed another stone, flicking my wrist for all I was worth. It sank. “You’re probably right about Beatrice and Sir Harold. They won’t want to leave.” I selected another stone. “I could call you every hour on the hour, if it makes you feel better.”
He checked his watch. “Time hack. Two-thirty. If I don’t hear from you by three-thirty, I’m storming the castle.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“Come on, you two,” Grace called. “There are better stones down here.”
“I have to go back,” I said, hating to spoil the atmosphere since Grace seemed to be actually enjoying herself. “It was good to see you both.”
Alex caught my hand and pulled me close for a quick kiss then said, “Call me tonight before you go to bed and in the morning. No joke.”
I kissed him back. “I will.”
“Good. I’ll ask around about Holly in the village. Louise might know something. What is Holly’s last name?”
“Riley. Holly Riley. Yes, if anyone knows something it will be Louise. Don’t look so worried. I’m not in any danger. I’m not sleeping in the Mahogany bedroom or receiving poison pen notes.”
I returned to the house, letting the cool air in the hallway wash over me. Despite the breeze, it had been warm outside in the sun, and I felt sticky and hot from my walk. I’d entered the house through one of the entrances on the ground floor, the floor with the kitchens and storage rooms. In short, the rooms where all the work was done. I knew about the entrance because Beatrice had brought me this way the first time I’d visited Parkview. As I pushed open the door to the kitchen, sounds of conversation, laughter, and a smattering of applause rang out. When I stepped inside, the room went silent.
Several maids and footmen were seated at a long wooden table, which was filled with plates and glasses from their lunch. Some of the footmen had removed their powdered wigs and hooked them on the back of their chairs. Waverly stood at the end of the table with his arms held out straight on each side, his head tilted back toward the ceiling. The end of a long stick was balanced on his forehead. A plate spun merrily on top of the stick.
Still holding his position, he slued his gaze my way. Once he saw me, he reached up and removed the stick from his forehead. The plate kept rotating as he straightened then he gave the stick a little toss, and the plate arched over his head. He caught it with his left hand. “How can we help you, Ms. Sharp?” he said, deadpan.
“Impressive.” The staff, who had been watching me tensely, seemed to relax a bit.
“Thank you, Miss Sharp.” He placed the plate and stick on the table. “A little party trick. Shall I show you the way to the main floor?”
“I’m actually looking for Holly. Do you know where she is?”
“I believe she’s left the estate for a few hours on an errand. Can I help you?”
“I need to speak to her…it’s for the Jane Austen documentary series that I’m here researching,” I added. It would be perfectly logical to talk to the publicity person about the documentary. “It’s a bit urgent. She hasn’t gone home for the day?” I asked, just to make sure she was coming back.
“I don’t believe so,” Waverly said.
“If she did leave, she lives in Upper Benning with her gran,” one of the maids offered as she pushed back her chair and began to gather plates. “I take the same bus.” She glanced at the clock. “There won’t be another until five-thirty this evening, then after that, there’s one more at ten.”
“Since Holly is gone, I better speak to Beatrice. I mean Lady Stone.”
Thomas stood. “She’s with the DCI.”
“Will you let her know I need to speak to her as soon as she is free?”
“Yes, miss.” Thomas shoved his wig on his head and moved away from the table.
“But you can finish your lunch first,” I said.
“We’re done,” Thomas said. “We were just having a bit of fun. Mr. Waverly was showing us some of the things he learned when he was in the circus. He was a magician and had his own act—” Waverly caught Thomas’s eye, and Thomas stopped speaking. “I’ll deliver that message.” Thomas slipped out the door.
“Can I escort you to the main floor, Ms. Sharp?” Waverly intoned, all formality.
“No, I can find my way. Sorry to interrupt.”
I left the kitchen and made my way upstairs to the east wing. I was relieved to see that the wing wasn’t blocked, and, only the door to the Mahogany bedroom had crime tape over it.
I unlocked the door to my room, intending to ring for Ella to help me get out of the period dress, but when I stepped inside my room Simon came through the doors from the balcony.
I stopped short. “What are you doing in here?”
“Sorry.” He held up a hand. “I know I shouldn’t be poking about in your room, but true crime is a bit of a hobby of mine. And I went straight to the balcony. Didn’t touch anything in your room.”
“I thought prepping was your hobby.” I had automatically pushed the door closed as I went in my room. I backed up a few steps until I felt the door at my back.
“A bloke can have more than one hobby, can’t he?”
“I suppose so. I’d like you to leave.” I opened the door and motioned tow
ard the hallway.
“Out of curiosity, did you hear anything last night? Maybe out on the balcony?” He crossed his beefy arms and made no move to leave.
“No.” I wasn’t about to tell him anything. I just wanted him out of my room.
“Did you go out there…or next door to the Mahogany bedroom?”
“No.” If he wasn’t leaving, then I was. But as I stepped into the hallway, he shot across the room, moving surprisingly fast despite his heavy build, and caught my arm just above the elbow in a tight grip. He pointed a flat and rectangular box at me.
“If you behave, I won’t have to use it.”
“Use it?” I shrank back.
His viselike grip tightened. “It’s a stun gun. No need to look so scared. It’s just a little shock. It won’t hurt you. It will only make sure you stay put until the police arrive.”
“Yes, the police sound like an excellent idea. Let’s call them.”
“Oh, I intend to. They’ll be interested to talk to you. You’d be wise not to lie to them, like you did to me just now.”
“Lie to you? What are you talking about?” He wasn’t making sense, but at least he wanted the police. So much for my worries about Holly acting strangely. This was much, much weirder.
Had he sent the poison pen notes and murdered Toby? I decided those details didn’t matter at the moment. “Let’s get the police here. I’ll call them, if you like.”
He snorted. “Oh no. I’m not that gullible. I’ll call them myself.” He steered me back into the room. I wanted to move the opposite way, out into the hall, but he was too strong and propelled me across the room, then shoved me into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. He held the stun gun inches out of my reach. “Don’t try anything.” He pressed a button, and an electric current arched between two posts as he backed up a few steps and yanked the bellpull.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
After a few tense minutes, Thomas appeared in the open doorway and, even with his training, couldn’t keep his expression impassive. “Blimey.” Doubt chased across his face and was quickly replaced by determination. He tensed.
“Thomas,” I said, afraid he was about to charge Simon. I didn’t want Simon discharging the stun gun while I was anywhere in its vicinity. “Would you get the DCI and Lady Stone?” He didn’t move, clearly unsure what to do. “Quickly, please,” I added, trying to achieve a tone worthy of a commanding Regency lady, but my voice was breathy, which spoiled it a bit.
He licked his lips, then nodded and departed at a run.
I could suddenly hear the ticking of a clock from down the hall and the twitter of a bird through the open door to the balcony. My phone, which was still plugged into the outlet, rang. I could see from the display that it was Alex.
Simon shook his head. “Don’t move.”
I bit my lip as the ringing continued until the chime rang out that indicated the call had been sent to voicemail.
I heard Thomas’s voice. “…last room on the left.” And then DCI Hopkins’s large frame filled the doorway. Relief washed over me, and I realized I was gripping the arms of the chair.
Hopkins looked from Simon to me then said, “Mr. Page, suppose you let me have that?” He held out his hand.
“Not unless you’re armed,” Simon said. “We don’t want her to get away.”
“I’m sorry?” Hopkins leaned forward, a single frown line creasing his brow.
“She’s dangerous. She’s the murderer.”
Chapter 10
“IS SHE?” HOPKINS SAID, MILDLY. “The stun gun, Mr. Page,” he added in a firmer voice.
With one last look at me, Simon handed over the stun gun. Hopkins checked it and pushed a button. Because the current didn’t arc, I assumed it was a safety pin. He put the stun gun in an interior pocket of his jacket. “Now, suppose you tell me why you think Ms. Sharp is the murderer.” He motioned Simon toward the matching floral chair beside me. Simon didn’t look as if he wanted to take a seat, but Hopkins exuded authority, which is why I suppose that Simon gave up the stun gun. Hopkins nodded to the chair again, and Simon took a seat. Hopkins picked up the dressing table chair and placed it squarely in front of the fireplace, creating a conversational triangle—a tense conversational triangle.
Hopkins balanced his bulky frame on the little chair. “Mr. Page.” Hopkins waved a hand, indicating Simon should speak.
“She’s been on the other balcony, the balcony to the Mahogany bedroom. She denied it.”
“Is that so?” Hopkins looked toward me.
“No, of course not. I have been on my balcony, but how would I get to the other one?” A gap of several feet separated the balconies.
“It’s not that large of a distance,” Simon said. “A person could cover it, if they stretched or jumped.”
I looked at Hopkins. “That’s crazy. Who would do that?”
“The murderer did.” Simon cut in before Hopkins could speak. “There are only two keys to each guest room. The guest has one, and the housekeeper has the other.” Simon paused and said as an aside to Hopkins, “Security is important to me. I asked about this when we arrived.”
Simon looked back at me. “The maid, Ella, said she unlocked the door to the Mahogany bedroom this morning with the key from the housekeeper—I asked her—and I saw the other key on the table inside the room. Therefore, the room was locked. The murderer had to enter from the balcony. You are the only person with access to the balcony. Only your room and the Mahogany bedroom have balconies on this wing of the house. It’s the only explanation. You went in through the balcony and suffocated Toby Clay.”
“But I didn’t climb over the balcony or go anywhere near Toby Clay last night. How can you even think that?”
Simon smiled like he’d just won a prize, displaying the slight gap between his two front teeth. “There. She did it again,” he said to Hopkins. “She’s lying.” Simon settled back in the chair and crossed his thick arms as he looked at me. “That’s how I know you did it.”
“Do you have proof of your accusations, Mr. Page?”
“Yes. Her hairpin is on the balcony…the balcony to the Mahogany bedroom. Your men must have missed it. It’s under the flower pot thing. It’s difficult to see it, but it is definitely there. It’s just like those on the little table there.” He pointed to the dressing table. I swiveled and saw the stack of hairpins that Ella had used to put up my hair last night.
“That’s why I was in here,” Simon said. “I wanted to check the balcony. With the other room sealed off, your room was the only way I could see the balcony.”
“And how did you get in here?”
“The door was open.”
I frowned. Had I left the door open? I couldn’t remember. In all the confusion with the police arriving and Monique’s crying jags, I might have. How Simon got in my room was the least of my worries. “This is absurd,” I said, looking at Hopkins. Surely he didn’t believe Simon?
“Go and look,” Simon said confidently. “It’s there on the other balcony. And before you say that it could have belonged to anyone, my wife noticed those pins last night and asked our maid about them. The maid said that the hairpins were part of the costume that’s provided for the guests. Each female guest had a different set. There was only one package with those pearl things attached, and she said that your maid used them all in your hair.”
I jumped up and went to the balcony, skirting around Simon.
I didn’t see it at first, but when I bent down and peered through the stone balusters to the balcony of the Mahogany bedroom, I saw the soft glow of a pearl attached to a hairpin almost hidden under the edge of the ceramic pot that held the boxwood shrub.
“I did not leave that there.” I stood and bumped into Hopkins, who was right behind me. I sidestepped and moved to go around him.
“Please.” He caught my wrist before I touched the back of one of the chairs. “Fingerprints.”
I snatched my hand back, and he pulled out his phone.
“One moment.” He made a call, instructing someone to photograph the hairpin, collect it as evidence, then dust my balcony for prints. He put his phone away. “We have already checked that balcony for prints,” he said, tilting his head toward the Mahogany bedroom balcony.
I felt myself go cold. Hopkins was taking everything that Simon had said seriously.
Simon was on the balcony, too. He pointed to the hairpin. “I think she pried the hairpin open. See how it’s bent back? She was able to get it between the glass doors and force the latch open. These doors are only held closed with these hooks.” He flicked at one of the hooks that dangled on the glass door of my balcony. “It would only take a little force to get the hairpin through the slight crack—these doors don’t close completely. Old house, you know. Add some upward pressure, and it would push it out of the ‘eye’ where it usually rests.”
“But the balcony doors were locked when Ella found Toby Clay dead this morning,” I said. “I noticed it because Ella had pulled back the curtains to let in the light. How could someone…not me, because I didn’t do it,” I said firmly, “…how could someone relatch them if they entered and left through the balcony?”
“Simple. You relatched them after the body was discovered this morning. You were alone in the room, weren’t you?” Simon said, his voice soft, but his expression was triumphant. “Ella said you were. She said you told her to fetch help and stayed there alone. You had plenty of time to relatch the hook.”
Stunned, I could only shake my head for a moment, then common sense swept back in. “Well, then why didn’t I throw away the hairpin or at least remove it?”
“You either didn’t have time, or you couldn’t reach it. It is on the far side next to the row of balusters. It would be hard to get to.”
“Then why leave it in the first place?” I asked recklessly.
“You would have lost it last night. Probably dropped it after you got the door unlatched. It was dark,” Simon said, answering my question seriously. “You probably didn’t want to use a light for fear of attracting attention. You probably dropped it, couldn’t find it, and hoped it had gone over the edge.”
