“Please,” Landis said, “I’ve heard about the cases you were involved in—you two and your young lady, Miss Parker. You have a way of getting to the bottom of a thing.”
Drew shook his head. “And I almost got myself killed last time.”
“I doubt there’s a lunatic involved here.”
Drew studied him for a moment. “And why do you think Ravenswood was murdered, Mr. Landis?”
“Haven’t the foggiest, I’m afraid. You know how theater people can be. Might be one of them wanted to take over as leading man at the Tivoli. Could be the wife had enough of his unofficial matinees with her understudy. Could be she’d just had enough of him in general.”
“Have you ever met his wife?” Nick asked.
Landis chuckled. “Good heavens, no. I know nothing about her. I’ve seen her a couple of times on the stage, that’s all. She may well be a saint. I was just throwing out a few possibilities. There’s always the money angle. Find out where he got his and who’d benefit from his death, right? Even so, none of those reasons point to Fleur. That’s all I’m saying.”
“True.” Drew studied Landis’s eyes, his reactions. “Unless the two of them were still seeing each other.”
Landis’s face paled. “No. No, that was over years ago. Before Peter was born. I’m certain of it.”
“Sorry. I had to ask.”
“Yes, I know. And I know it’s been years since you and she were friends, but I was hoping for her sake, well, that you three might consider looking into things. Peter and I, we just wouldn’t know how to get on without Mummy.”
Drew picked up the photograph again and focused on the little boy, who was looking with adoration at his father. Then with another glance at Landis, he set the picture down and nodded.
“I was a frightful climber at that age myself.”
Landis looked puzzled for a moment, and then a smile touched his face. “You mean you will?”
Nick looked sidelong at Drew but said nothing.
“I can’t make you any guarantees of course, Landis,” Drew said, avoiding Nick’s gaze, “but I can see what I can find out. On the hush-hush.”
“Are you certain?” Landis looked pitifully relieved. “Truly?”
“You have my word on it,” Drew said.
“We’d be very much grateful, Fleur and I, for anything you three could possibly—”
“Two at most, I’m afraid.” Drew stood. “As you might well imagine, Miss Parker is quite involved in wedding plans these days.”
“Oh, of course,” Landis said, rising from his chair. “I wouldn’t dream of asking her to interrupt what she’s doing for this. But if the two of you could possibly . . .” He looked at them with hope in his eyes, and Drew nodded again.
“As I said, Mr. Landis, I can’t give you any guarantees. But for the boy’s sake, eh, Nick, old man?”
“I’m game if you are,” Nick said as he got to his feet.
“It’s very good of you, Mr. Farthering. Mr. Dennison.” Landis offered his hand to each of them in turn. “I don’t know how we could ever repay you.”
Drew gave him a shrug. “Save that until you see whether or not we’re of any help.”
Drew drove for several minutes in silence, the Rolls humming along the road back to Farthering Place, and the sunlight glinting off the patchy snow.
Finally, Nick glanced over at him. “So much for only giving him a bit of advice.”
Drew frowned. “Well, what could I have done?”
“You might have turned him down.”
“I was going to. I was absolutely not going to have anything to do with this investigation. But then, well, when he said it was for the little boy’s sake, what could I do? You, uh . . .” Drew kept his eyes on the road, forcing all emotion out of his voice. “You know how it’s been since I found out about my mother. My real mother. It’s perfectly maddening to know nothing about her, to be unable to find a trace of her still.”
Nick nodded. “I’d’ve thought your solicitors would have something by now.”
“Not a sausage,” Drew replied flatly. “Anyway, little Peter is no doubt quite attached to his own mother, such as she is. And truly there is not that much to the case. Not that much to do with Fleur anyway. It’s not as if I would be right at her side day in and day out.”
“What’s our Miss Parker going to think of this now?” Nick asked. “No doubt she’s none too happy that Fleur has popped back into your life. I daresay she’d prefer you didn’t pop back into hers.”
Drew managed to keep the annoyance in his expression down to a mere hint. “There’s been no popping on the part of either party. Neither of us is pleased to renew the acquaintance, and this investigation just makes it all the more awkward.”
“But you’re going to carry on anyway.” Nick lifted one sandy eyebrow. “And Madeline is supposed to receive this news happily?”
“Not half,” Drew muttered.
“What do you suppose she’ll say?”
Drew kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to respond to Nick’s question.
“She’s not going to be pleased about this, you know,” Nick said.
Drew sighed. “I know. I know. Perhaps if we had a bit more information, I can see if there’s anything I can actually do. Like as not, there isn’t and that will be that. No need to upset the bride-to-be, eh?”
“Tread carefully, my lad, or you’re not likely to have a bride-to-be. Now just where are you hoping to obtain this additional information?”
“Well, what is one always advised to do if one is lost?”
Drew looked at Nick, and then they both spoke at once.
“Ask a policeman!”
Four
Madeline laid the catalogue on the bed. “I can’t decide between the ivory with bluebirds and flowers and the cream with the pink rosebuds. What do you think?”
Aunt Ruth looked down her nose at the picture. “You’re about to marry into a house with about forty different full sets of china. Why in the world would you want more?”
Madeline frowned. “I know. I thought I might want something that’s just sweet and pretty. Something we might have used at home when I was growing up. Something we can use for midnight snacks and picnics on the lawn, but I don’t know if I really want even that. I guess they expect it of me, though.”
“Who’s they?” Aunt Ruth’s lips twitched into a smile. “It seems to me your young man likes you for your not being too concerned what they think or what they do.”
“You’re right.” Madeline closed the catalogue. “But I do need to do some shopping.”
“And what are you after today?”
“You know the tradition, Aunt Ruth. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”
“I suppose we ought to get that straightened out then. I always expected the something old—”
“Mother’s veil. I’ve wanted to wear it for my wedding since I was a little girl.”
Aunt Ruth nodded, her expression wistful. “She would like that, I know. It’s a beautiful thing too—handmade Irish lace and seed pearls, down to your feet in front and six yards down the back. You’ll be lovely in it. What about the new?”
“That’s why I wanted to go shopping. Since Drew and Nick went to the office today, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to find just the right thing.”
“What are those two doing at the office? Not work, surely.”
Madeline shrugged. “I don’t know. They went to talk to Mr. Landis about something. I think Nick went only to get out from under Mr. Dennison’s watchful eye.”
“Not more of that detective nonsense, I hope.”
“Not today, no. I think Drew’s given that up. At least until after the wedding.” Madeline shrugged. “More or less.”
Aunt Ruth gave her a shrewd look. “In other words, he’s not telling you what he’s up to.”
“It’s not that. He told Mrs. Landis very plainly that he wouldn’t be investigating that
actor’s murder. I think that’s the end of it.”
“You don’t sound too sure.” The older woman stood with her arms crossed. “And just why is that?”
Madeline sighed and sat down on the bed. “I know how much he likes solving these cases. He says, and I think he just might be right, that he feels it’s something he’s supposed to do.”
“A rather odd sort of calling to have, isn’t it?” Aunt Ruth smirked. “Detecting?”
Madeline laughed. “I suppose it is, put that way. But we’re not all called to preach, are we? Besides, it’s really only helping people who need it. Isn’t that what we’re all called to do?”
“True enough. But you say he’s turned down this particular case, so why the worry?”
Madeline propped her chin on one hand. “I’m afraid it won’t be the end of it. You saw him when Mr. Montford was murdered. He was going to stay out of that one too, but Mrs. Montford coaxed him into investigating anyway.”
“Good thing she did too,” Aunt Ruth said. “No telling how long it would have taken that Birdsong fellow to figure out what was going on. He nearly got your young man killed as it was.”
“You can’t blame that on the chief inspector. If Drew hadn’t insisted on keeping his suspicions to himself, he wouldn’t have gotten into trouble like that.”
“Maybe so. Anyway, if he’s promised you he’ll stay out of this one, you shouldn’t trouble yourself about it.”
“Well, he didn’t exactly promise,” Madeline said. “He didn’t even tell me he would stay out of it. He told Mrs. Landis he wasn’t the right man for the job and that was all.”
“So? I don’t know what’s wrong with that. What did you want him to do?”
Madeline squirmed under her aunt’s stern gaze. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted him to tell her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t ever want to see her again.”
Aunt Ruth sat down on the bed next to her. “Their friendship was a little more than friendship, wasn’t it?”
Madeline caught hold of her arm. “Don’t tell him we talked about this. Please. It’s not . . .”
Aunt Ruth patted her hand. “He’ll never hear it from me. But it sounds as if he more or less did tell her he didn’t want her to come back. So long as the past is firmly in the past, and he has made his peace with God over it, I don’t know what more you can expect from him.”
Madeline frowned. “Maybe I don’t know what I expect, either. She’s just . . . well, you saw Drew and Nick that night at dinner. Mr. Landis, too. Not that they all weren’t perfectly polite, but you could see the effect she had on them. I don’t expect there’s much she wants that she doesn’t get.”
“Do you think he is still interested in her? In Mrs. Landis?”
Madeline shook her head. “I don’t think that at all. I just don’t like the idea of him still being in contact with her. Even if it’s just in this investigation.”
“For goodness’ sake, Madeline, if you don’t trust the man any more than that, you probably shouldn’t be marrying him.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust him.” Madeline shook her head again, not knowing if she wanted to laugh or cry. “It’s not that at all. I don’t want her to be on his mind right now. We’re about to get married. I want him to be thinking of the future, not of the past. He doesn’t remember her fondly, and I don’t want that tainting what ought to be a happy time for us both.”
“No use borrowing trouble,” Aunt Ruth said.
Madeline gave her a reluctant smile. “I suppose you’re right. He’s through with the whole matter. If Mrs. Landis didn’t kill this Ravenswood person, then it’s up to the police to figure out who did. Drew has more important things to do at the moment.”
“Exactly.” Aunt Ruth pulled her to her feet and thrust a handkerchief into her hand. “Now wash your face and put on a little powder and you’ll be fresh as this morning’s snow. We were talking about your ‘something new,’ weren’t we?”
Madeline laughed, sniffled and blew her nose. Then she did as her aunt suggested and washed and powdered her face. She glanced in the mirror as she finished and patted her hair into place. It hadn’t been a real cry, only just enough to add a touch of pink to her cheeks.
“Yes,” she told Aunt Ruth when she came back into the bedroom. “We were talking about my something new. I thought it would be nice to have that be something I bought here. Sort of a symbol of my new life, a new start and all that. What do you think?”
“Yes, I suppose that would be very nice.”
“Just one other thing . . .”
Aunt Ruth pursed her lips. “Yes?”
“Well, I thought . . .” Madeline took a deep breath. “I thought, since it is my wedding and such a joyous occasion, I thought maybe we could get you a dress in a happier color.”
Aunt Ruth arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying what I would choose to wear isn’t good enough for your shindig?”
“Oh, no, Aunt Ruth. Please don’t be mad. It’s just that, well, I thought just for once, you might not wear black.”
Aunt Ruth tugged at the lapels of her black satin jacket, pulling it more snugly around her. “Black was evidently good enough for Queen Victoria, and I assume she attended a great many weddings in her time.”
Madeline kissed her aunt’s cheek. “You wear whatever you like, dear. I just thought that if you hadn’t absolutely decided what you’re going to wear, you might want to look around a little while we’re out.”
Aunt Ruth looked doubtful. “There isn’t much to choose from in the village, you know. What are you going to get? A string of those paste pearls they sell at the drugstore?”
Madeline giggled. “Of course not. But I thought we might go over to Mrs. Forest’s shop and see what she has.”
Aunt Ruth consulted the little watch brooch that was pinned to her blouse. “You’d better get a move on then, missy, or that fiancé of yours will be back, and you two and Mr. Dennison will end up dashing up to some village called Porridge-on-Toast, looking for a redheaded train conductor with a parrot and a wooden leg or some such nonsense.”
“Don’t be silly,” Madeline said as she put on her coat. “Porridge-on-Toast is in Yorkshire, and we’d never get up there and back before teatime.”
It was a beautiful day, despite the snow, and Madeline was certain that if Drew were here, the two of them would have walked over to the village. But with her cane, Aunt Ruth wasn’t used to going such distances on foot, so Madeline had Denton, the chauffeur, bring around the Bentley and drive them.
Forest’s Ladies’ Emporium was at the end of the High Street in Farthering St. John, just around the corner from the church. Like almost all the buildings in the village, it was a small, half-timbered structure at least three hundred years old. Mrs. Forest, a wizened little sparrow of a woman, came around from behind the counter to greet them.
“Good morning, ladies. How may I help?”
Though Madeline was already scanning the display cases, she looked up and smiled at the older woman. “I was looking for my ‘something new’ to wear when I marry Mr. Farthering.”
“Ah, certainly,” said Mrs. Forest. “Best wishes to you both. And do you have a sixpence for your shoe?”
“What’s that?” Aunt Ruth asked, looking at her and then at Madeline. “A sixpence?”
“It’s the tradition here,” Madeline said, and Mrs. Forest nodded.
“Yes, indeed, ma’am. ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in her shoe.’ And if you don’t have one already, you can go right over to the post office and change one of yours for a bright new one. Mr. Pringle keeps them specially. He’s really quite a sentimental old dear, but don’t tell him I said so.”
Madeline chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t. But I’ll certainly remember to go see him. I thought if I had a brand-new sixpence, I could keep it after the wedding. It would have our year on it and everything. Maybe I could have it put on Drew’s watch chain for a remem
brance.”
“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Forest agreed. “Now, about your something new . . .”
“Yes.” Madeline eyed the display cases again. “Is there anything you would recommend?”
“We have some nice lace gloves.”
“I’ll be wearing my mother’s gloves and veil. They’re handmade Irish lace. I’d like to add something from Farthering St. John.”
“Ah.” Mrs. Forest led Madeline and Aunt Ruth over to a tall glass case in the corner of the shop. “Here is where I keep the jewelry. Of course, this isn’t London. I don’t have anything with large diamonds and the like. Just good pieces you could wear to a nice dinner and all. These are the newest.”
She showed Madeline a tray of pretty rings and bracelets, nothing large or gaudy.
Madeline’s breath caught in her throat. “Oooh, may I see that one?” she asked, pointing.
Mrs. Forest smiled. “You may, but it’s not new. In fact, it’s quite old.”
She took out the piece, a tiny brooch of seed pearls around a delicate oval cameo of an angel. It wasn’t even an inch long.
“That’s so sweet.” Madeline touched it with one finger and glanced up at her aunt. “I think it’s just what I want.”
Aunt Ruth snorted. “I thought you were after something new.”
“Well, for me it’s new. Besides, isn’t that sort of like my coming to England? While everything’s very old here, it’s all new to me.”
Mrs. Forest brought out a piece of black velvet and laid it on the counter. Then she set the brooch on it.
“The lady who owned this, a Mrs. Featherstone, was also from America. She came here when she was just a girl, sent over by her parents due to the war between the North and the South. She met Mr. Featherstone and never went home again. They were married nearly seventy years and passed away about four years ago now. She went only a day after he did. I’m told he gave her this brooch on their wedding day.”
“Isn’t that a lovely story?” Madeline turned shining eyes to her aunt. “So romantic.”
Aunt Ruth looked as if she didn’t believe a word of it, but at least she was polite enough not to say so. “And how did you come by it, may I ask?”
Murder at the Mikado (A Drew Farthering Mystery Book #3) Page 5
