by Sara Rosett
“Okay, see you soon.”
I put my phone away. “Have you come to find me for that formal statement?”
“No, we’ve put it off until tomorrow.” As he spoke, Albertson patted his pockets. “I’m needed at the bridge.” He found what he was looking for and took out a waterproof cover, which he expertly pulled over his hat. “It’s coming down hard out there. Most likely, we’ll have to close the bridge.”
I didn’t do a lot of driving on the roads around Nether Woodsmoor, but I had enough of a grasp of local geography that I understood what he was saying. “So Parkview will be cut off.”
“From the main roads, yes. Of course there are always the footpaths, but to get to or from the village without using the bridge here, you’d have to go about seven miles north before you come to the next footpath bridge, and it usually floods as well. Albertson glanced up and down the hall, his gaze lingering on the crime scene tape the evidence technicians had reapplied after photographing the room earlier.
Albertson took a step closer and lowered his voice. “I feel I know you, Ms. Sharp, and I’m pretty confident that you didn’t murder Mr. Clay, but someone here did. If the storm continues, you’ll be shut up in here with that person. And I know you’re not one to sit back and let things ride, especially after those things that Mr. Page said about you, but in this case, I think it would be best to let it alone.”
“But Inspector Hopkins is here as well as Sergeant Cannon, right?”
“No, ma’am. They left to take Holly Riley home and interview her grandmother.”
“I better call Alex to come pick up Grace right away,” I said.
Albertson frowned. “Grace?”
“Alex’s sister. She’s here.”
Albertson nodded. “I see.” He moved to put his hat on.
“Wait, Constable Albertson, before you go, Hopkins said you reviewed all the footage from the cameras around the estate. He told us no one crossed the courtyard or was seen in the hallways of Parkview during the night.”
“That’s right. Very quiet, it was.”
“So there’s no way Holly could have gotten back inside Parkview last night…if she actually left?”
“Oh, she left all right. The video recorded her walking down the drive to catch the late bus at the gate. She departed after dinner was cleared.”
“I suppose that makes sense. If she placed the note under the tablecloth, she’d want to see the reaction to it. I wonder if she watched from the hall or the terrace?”
“I couldn’t tell you about that, but I do know she walked down the drive and caught the bus to Upper Benning. Her transportation card was used, and the driver confirmed she got on the bus. He dropped her at her usual stop in Upper Benning.” Albertson shook his head. “I don’t see why Hopkins had to go over to Upper Benning at this moment. Cursed inconvenient time to get formal statements, if you ask me. I’ve already contacted the building manager and plumber. They both confirm that Holly was at home. But there you go. Hopkins didn’t ask me. The DCI is thorough, I’ll give you that.”
“So she has an alibi.” My heart sank. Since Hopkins had asked Holly where she was between eleven at night and two in the morning, the police must have narrowed the time of death to that window. If Holly was in the clear for those hours, did that mean that Hopkins would be back to looking at me as a worthy suspect again? I didn’t want him staring at me with his blank face. Who knew what scenarios he was running in his mind as he contemplated me?
Albertson positioned his hat on his head and gave me a nod. “Stay safe, Ms. Sharp.”
I stared at the crime scene tape over the door to the Mahogany bedroom. If Monique was out cold all night and no one crossed the courtyard or came down the hallway, how had Toby been killed? It seemed an impossible puzzle. I ran my gaze along the hallway, searching the corners of the ceiling…well, perhaps there was another way.
Chapter 14
“LOOK AT THIS MESS.” BEATRICE gestured to the files and stacks of papers that tottered on the windowsill. “No thought for order. So inconsiderate. From now on, the inspector can use Holly’s old desk.”
“I suppose she won’t be needing it.” I checked my watch. Before I’d left the hallway, I’d tapped on the door to the Rose bedroom and told Grace to finish up her bath, and that I’d be back in a few minutes. On the way downstairs, I’d called Alex and told him that he should come pick up Grace in case the bridge flooded.
Beatrice’s hands dropped to her side. “Such a sad situation. As Holly went out the door of the library, she apologized again. She looked as if she did mean it.” Beatrice picked up another pile and deposited the tower of papers on one corner of her desk. The pile listed to the side, and I quickly put out a hand and shoved them back into a stack. Beatrice added another stack to the other side of the desk, nodded her head in satisfaction and then dropped into her chair. “Of course, I believed Holly was a happy, trustworthy employee until today. Maybe she’s still acting, putting on a show of being contrite.” Beatrice swiveled her chair and watched the rain course down the tall windows. “It is a shame. She did her job quite well.” Beatrice shook her head and scooted her chair closer to the desk. Her tone was brisk as she asked, “What can I help you with?”
“I had a question about the security of the video cameras.”
“It’s a top notch system. We didn’t skimp on any of that. It was installed a few months ago. Quite expensive, but I think it will be worth it in the end. It does help us monitor what goes on here more easily.”
“So could someone outside the system access it?”
Beatrice raised her eyebrows. “To tamper with it?”
“That’s what I was wondering, yes.”
Beatrice shook her head. “Not likely. We’ve put all the security precautions in place—we password protect the cameras and change the passwords frequently. Even the door to the monitoring room has a keypad lock that’s changed every two or three days. It records each time someone enters and exits. Every person who has access to the room has a different code so we can track who has been in and out of the room, and only four of us have access—me, the head of security, his assistant, and Sir Harold. I pulled the records myself for the inspector. No one unauthorized has entered. Of course, no system is fool-proof, but the inspector,” Beatrice threw a dark look at her desk—it seemed as if the inspector would get an earful when he returned—“had his team look at it. They said it was secure.”
I sat back with a sigh.
“You’re disappointed,” Beatrice said, watching my face. “You thought someone had manipulated the recordings or disabled a camera to get into the Mahogany bedroom unseen.”
“I’d thought it might be a way.”
Beatrice shook her head “I’m no expert, and I’m sure there are ways around most security systems, but the inspector’s people seemed satisfied that no one had tampered with our set up.”
A gust of wind dashed a cascade of rain at the windows. Lightning flashed, brightening the room for a second. “I’d better get back to my room and see if Grace is ready to go.”
“Grace?”
“She was caught in the storm and made her way here. She’s having a hot bath while Ella finds her dry clothes.”
“There’s no need for her to leave. She can stay for dinner, if you think she’d like that sort of thing. Or you can have a tray sent up to her.” Beatrice glanced out the window. The afternoon had turned gloomy and overcast when the rain started, but now the sky was much darker. It looked like it was nearer twilight rather than mid-afternoon.
“I’m sure it would be a unique experience for her, but Constable Albertson says the bridge may flood, and I’ve called Alex to come pick her up.”
Beatrice stood and walked to the windows. Hands on hips, she surveyed the scene. “Yes, the footpath to the gardens is flooding, and I can see pools forming on the low lawn. If we see that, we know we’ll be cut off for a couple of hours, perhaps a day. So, yes, getting her back to the village is probab
ly the best idea.”
“In that case, I better get moving.”
As I walked along the west wing on my way back to the main entrance of the house, my steps slowed as I reached the monitoring room with its glowing keypad on the handle. A man in a navy blazer sat in front of the constantly changing images on the monitors. It certainly looked secure, and Hopkin’s team hadn’t found anything suspicious about it, so I would have to assume the security footage was accurate…as much as I would like to assume the opposite. A disabled camera or missing footage would go a long way to explain how someone had gotten into the Mahogany bedroom.
I picked up my pace again and reached the black and white marble of the entry hall where I heard Monique’s voice. “Are you sure?”
I paused and spotted her holding a phone to her ear with one hand, the other propped on her hip. She stood on the landing where the stairs branched to the different sides of the gallery that overlooked the entry. She faced the window, but it didn’t look as if she were taking in the view of the rain pounding down outside.
I slowed my steps. I wanted to give her a wide berth. She wore a black short-sleeved sweater with gray herringbone pants and three-inch red Louboutin pumps. Her hair curls, which had been so flattened and disarranged this morning, now flawlessly framed her face. She had on fresh makeup…eyeliner, mascara, and a layer of red lipstick.
“And the p and e?” she asked, her voice clipped. She listened then said, “Fine. Buy seven hundred shares. Text me when the transaction goes through.” She paced a few steps away, ran her finger down the nose of a Roman bust situated in the corner of the landing, then turned and strode back to the window. “And the contract for the perfume deal?…Then keep pushing. I want that wrapped up before the news about Toby breaks…for the publicity, darling. Every news story should have my name and the phrase, ‘who has just agreed to distribute her new signature fragrance exclusively through the Saxon and Trilby stores.’”
She turned away from the window and climbed the stairs that went to the gallery on the east side of the house. “I don’t see how I’ll be able to get away today with all this rain. Plan on at least tomorrow afternoon. Let’s hope the police stop being so tiresome. Imagine telling me I can’t have my own belongings. It’s absurd. Find out who is in charge of this investigation—no, not Hopkins. Find his boss, and get him on the phone, then conference me in. I’ll be waiting.”
Her voice faded, and I walked slowly up the steps. I had thought Monique was basically a spoiled brat, only interested in clothes, makeup, hair, and which trendy restaurant everyone was eating at now, but she’d actually sounded rather knowledgeable on the phone. Very business savvy, and, as unsavory and almost mercenary as her publicity plan was, it would get the news about her new fragrance line out there.
I tapped on the door of my room, then stuck my head around it. “Are you a prune yet?”
Grace was wrapped in a fluffy white robe. She examined the fingertips of one hand critically. “Yep, wrinkled, but warm.”
“Good.” I stepped into the room. “Any sign of clothes?”
Ella was right behind me. “Here you are. Shirt, jeans, socks. I couldn’t find any shoes, but Waverly says Miss Grace’s shoes should be here in a moment.
“Great. I’ll leave you to change. Alex is on the way.”
Ella cleared her throat. “I thought you’d want to know that one of the groundskeepers came up to the house and says the bridge to the village is under water. No one will be able to cross.”
Chapter 15
“WE’RE ALL STUCK IN A big country house in a rainstorm?” Grace said. “Smashing.”
My phone rang. It was Alex. I tucked the phone under my chin and took the clothes from Ella as I answered.
“The bridge to Parkview is closed,” Alex said as I handed the clothes to Grace, and Ella exited the room. Alex’s voice continued, the line resounding with the crackle of static that coincided with a burst of lightning that flashed at the windows, “They’re turning everyone back. I can’t get there.”
“We just heard.”
“Is Grace worried? Scared to be stuck there after a murder?”
“No, she’s taking it quite well. In fact, I’d say she is a bit excited.”
Alex’s voice relaxed. “Ghoulish little thing. Put her on, will you?”
I handed the phone over. Grace’s side of the conversation consisted of murmuring yes several times. I went to one of the sets of glass doors, flicked the hook out of the latch, and stepped onto the balcony. The sound of pounding rain drowned out Grace’s words. The shelter of the roof overhang covered the balcony, but water poured down from the edge of the roof, clearing the edge of the balcony and dropping straight to the flagstones of the courtyard below where it churned and gurgled then pooled around several drains. The sheer amount of water spilling from the clouds had overwhelmed the drainage system, and puddles of water were inching wider and wider from the drains. The broken planter had been repaired and only water covered the flagstones.
Some raindrops splashed onto the balcony’s railing and mixed with the remnants of the fingerprint powder. I looked at the Mahogany bedroom’s balcony. It was in the same soggy state as mine with a thin layer of water that had ricocheted off the various surfaces, landing on the balcony floor. The hairpin was gone. I shook my head. If Simon hadn’t spotted that hairpin earlier today, it might have been swept off the balcony in the overflow of the rain, and I wouldn’t be worried about my next conversation with Inspector Hopkins.
I was staring at the Mahogany bedroom’s balcony, thinking more about the situation than looking at the balcony when an oddity in the coloring of the balusters caught my eye. The last baluster, the one closest to the house, had a horizontal stripe that looked as if it had been scrubbed clean. I leaned closer. The area, about an inch wide, was near the base of the baluster, and was lighter than the rest of the stone. I stepped back and looked at the rest of the balusters, but none of the others had a lighter stripe.
I frowned, trying to figure out what could have made that mark. Had someone been able to get a rope around the baluster and climb up from the courtyard? But that was impossible because the courtyard had been covered with unmarred mud. There had been no footprints. And, even if that were the case, wouldn’t the mark where the rope had rubbed be at the base of the baluster rather than a couple of inches above it?
“Odd.” I turned and scanned the balusters that edged my balcony for similar marks. There weren’t any. I peered across the way to the rooms on the east wing. Maybe someone staying over there had seen something…noticed something?
“What’s odd?”
I didn’t realize I had spoken aloud. I turned and found Grace leaning out the balcony doors, now dressed in the clothes that Ella had provided, which were a bit saggy.
“Oh, nothing. Just trying to figure out something.”
“Who killed Toby Clay?”
“Er—no, of course not.”
Grace just looked at me. “Really, Kate? You expect me to believe that you’re not interested in finding out who did it?” She did scathing skepticism as only a pre-teen can. I was glad she had recovered from her teary uncertainty in the sitting room, but I wasn’t sure I wanted her to go all the way back to the other end of the scale to snarky tween.
“I know about those other times that you helped the police. Alex told me,” Grace said.
“Okay, yes. To be perfectly honest, I was trying to figure out how someone got into the room.”
“The locked room,” Grace said.
“How do you know about that?” I asked.
“Everyone was talking about it at the pub. How no one could have come up from the courtyard because there were no footprints in the dirt and how the halls and roof are monitored. Some people think it was the ghost.”
“The ghost?”
“Yes, the Lonely Lady. Parkview Hall is haunted, didn’t you know?”
“Every stately home needs a ghost. Part of the package, I suppose.”
“Yes,” Grace agreed. “This one is a daughter of one of the baronets from ages and ages ago—I don’t remember which one. Her family wouldn’t let her marry the man she loved. She drowned herself in the river.”
“So she takes her revenge on a visiting houseguest hundreds of years later?” I asked.
Grace shrugged. “I didn’t say I believed it. Ghosts don’t murder people. Anyway, back to the locked room thing…”
I pressed my lips together for a moment. She was here, and she knew all about the crime and the locked room. It was no use pretending that it wasn’t interesting to me as well. “That’s the key, I think. Once the police figure that out, they’ll know who the murderer is.”
“Right. The police.” The sarcasm was back.
“It does…interest me, in a very personal way, in fact. But I have to watch out for you. Your brother would kill me, if something happened to you.”
“Then we’ll just concentrate on the puzzle about the room.”
“Grace—”
“What else are we going to do? We can’t leave. We’re stuck here. We can’t go outside. I saw the schedule of optional activities on your dressing table.” She looked at her watch. “The hands-on Needlecraft in the Regency lesson starts in fifteen minutes, but I don’t want to spend my time learning to sew. I already tried at school, and I know I’m terrible at it. I bet you don’t want to go either.”
“All the other activities were outdoors,” I said, thinking of the schedule. It had been on the tray this morning when Ella brought my breakfast.
“So they will be canceled. We might as well sleuth a little…subtly, you know.”
I looked at Grace with her eager face and her dark eyes, which were so like Alex’s. At least she wasn’t sullen and scared. And I had a feeling that no matter what I said, she was determined to look for clues. Better to stay with her and keep an eye on her than have her sneaking off on her own. We did have several long hours to fill before dinner. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to do some research on the other guests. Maybe ask a few questions. Maybe,” I emphasized.
