“A bit more to the purpose, if you please.”
“Why do you suppose she asked Mrs. Harkness for a book on this modern stuff if she already had this?”
“Smells and looks new, too.” Drew shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps she wanted something a bit livelier. Or maybe she asked just to impress Roger. From what I heard, she did rather enjoy making people uncomfortable with her modern ideas. See what else you can find.”
“There’s a fashion magazine under it.” Nick flipped through a few pages and then snorted. “Seems she liked to add a bit of drama to the photos.”
He handed Drew the magazine, open to an advert showing a young couple drinking with straws from the same frothy glass, their eyes dreamily on each other. In a bubble over the man’s head, Clarice had written, Won’t she make the sweetest little wife? Over the head of the girl, the caption said, Drink up, mate. I’ve got another date at—
Drew studied it for a moment. “I wonder what interrupted her?”
“Could have been anything.” Nick glanced at the picture again. “Might have done that a month ago as much as today.”
“I don’t know. The magazine looks new, latest issue and all. And if I don’t mistake myself—” Drew picked up a fountain pen from the end table where the book and magazine had been and made a small mark at the bottom of the page Clarice had embellished—“that’s the pen she used. Besides, if she didn’t do this today, then why didn’t she finish it? She would’ve had plenty of time.”
“Perhaps she couldn’t think of what to end with,” Nick said. “Or maybe she simply got bored with the idea.”
“Well, even without an ending, it says what she meant it to. Not a romantic, our Miss Deschner.”
Eight
It was well past midnight by the time Drew arrived home to Farthering Place.
“Hullo, darling.”
“Oh, Drew.”
Madeline tossed down her book and hurried to him with open arms. She then glanced back at Aunt Ruth, who was sleeping soundly in the armchair by the library fire with Mr. Chambers curled up in her lap. Madeline put one finger to her lips, and Drew took her hand and led her into the hall.
She pulled the library door silently closed and then kissed him. “I’m so glad you’re finally home.”
“So am I.”
She stroked the hair back from his forehead. “You look exhausted. Don’t you want some coffee or something?”
“I am a bit done up, I confess it, but I hate to roust out any of the staff at this time of night. Nick’s already headed up to bed. This business with Roger’s an awful mess.”
“Poor thing. Would it be improper if we sneaked out to the kitchen and got some coffee ourselves?”
He smiled. “You are the most perceptive creature.”
“Someone has to take care of you,” she said, taking his arm as they walked. “And Denny can’t always be around.”
“We’ve got to be quiet,” he warned as he turned on one light in the kitchen. “If Mrs. Devon finds us here, she’ll insist on making cake or biscuits to go along with the coffee. Or sandwiches or an eight-course meal.”
Madeline looked around, unsure of which of the myriad cabinets to open first. “I don’t suppose you know where the coffeepot is kept.”
“Not really, but Mrs. D is a logical woman, so I expect it would be in a logical place.”
They found it in a cupboard above the sink, next to the tea things, just where it ought to be. The coffee grinder was next to it, along with freshly roasted coffee beans.
“Maybe tea would be easier,” Madeline said.
“Nonsense, darling. You like coffee, so we’ll have coffee. We don’t need any help. Besides, I don’t want anyone here but you right now.”
He ground the beans while she poured water into the pot, and somehow they ended up with two decent cups of coffee. A few hot sips seemed to take some of the weariness out of him.
“This is lovely,” Drew said. “Thank you.” He reached across the kitchen table to take her hand.
Madeline smiled. “You’re very welcome. Now, don’t you think you’d better catch me up on what’s going on?”
The light in his eyes faded, making him look tired again and a little bewildered. “I suppose so.” He took another drink of his coffee, lingering over it, reluctant to go on. “I rather hate pulling you back into this sort of thing, though. I mean it hasn’t been very long since your uncle—”
“You’re terribly sweet, Drew. I miss Uncle Mason. It still hurts to remember him dead there in the study with that knife . . .” She bit her lip and hated the tears that welled up in her eyes. “It still hurts. But if we can spare someone else that pain, then it’s a good thing, isn’t it? A right thing?”
“Yes, darling, it is. I don’t know how I keep getting pulled into these situations, but maybe it’s what I’m meant to do. I don’t know that for certain, but I want to find out. And more than anything, as long as you’re out of danger, I want you in it with me.”
She swallowed hard and then nodded. Those tears would never go away if he kept talking to her like that.
“So then, down to business, as they say.” He winked at her. “Tell me what happened here after Nick and I left.”
“The party didn’t last long after dinner. Bunny and some of the others decided to drive up to London, to some of the nightclubs there. Freddie went, too. Then Mr. and Mrs. Allison went home. I wish I could have come with you and Nick.”
“It was a grim scene. The woman was poisoned or something. It’s all so terribly sad.”
“And how is your friend Roger?”
“He’s always been a bit high-strung. You can imagine him finding her dead there with that ghastly note pinned into her. I thought he’d lose his wits when he realized he had Dr. Corneau’s cigarette case on him.”
“How do you suppose he came by that? Did he know the doctor?”
“No. At least he says not. I can’t imagine why he’d lie about it unless he’s behind all the murders.”
“You don’t think . . . ?”
“Old Roger? Hardly. He couldn’t bear even being in the same room with the poor woman’s body. I could never see him actually committing a murder.”
“What about the note?”
He sighed. “I wrote it down.”
He gave her the slip of paper he’d used to copy down the cryptic message.
She puzzled over it for a moment and then shook her head. “You don’t think the murderer’s just writing these to confuse things, do you? I mean, maybe they don’t mean anything at all.”
“No, there’s some method in it, I’d lay odds on that. We just have to figure out the key. Nothing for it but to let the little gray cells do their work.” He squeezed her hand. “Sorry to have left you and Mrs. Allison to see to the guests here, darling. Must have been deuced awkward for you.”
“Well, I knew you were in a jam, and Freddie kindly agreed to be my escort. He even spent a while chatting with Aunt Ruth.”
He was silent until she looked up at him. He was staring off into the darkness outside the windows.
“That was good of him.”
He didn’t say anything more.
“What are you thinking?” she asked after a few moments.
This time he turned to her, a wistful smile on his face. “Lots of things. I don’t know if Roger actually loved Clarice. More than likely just a pash. But it had to be a great shock to him for her to be suddenly gone forever like that, someone he’d been with just a few hours before.”
He squeezed her hand and was silent again, but she knew what he was thinking.
“I’m still not ready to make a decision,” she said.
He pulled back from her, the melancholy in his expression replaced with puzzlement and a touch of irritation. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“Not in so many words, no, but I could tell where you were headed when you were talking about Roger and about losing someone suddenly.”
“All right,
I was thinking of you. I was thinking how rotten it would be to lose you like that. Is that a crime?”
“No, of course not.” She stroked his cheek. “I love that you feel that way about me. I love that you want me to marry you. I want that, too. You don’t understand how very much I do and how very much that scares me.”
His expression softened. “Is being married to me such a terrifying prospect?”
She smiled, ignoring the lump that forced its way into her throat. “No, it’s wonderful, more wonderful than I can believe. But we’ve known each other such a short time.”
He sighed. “I see you’ve been listening to your aunt Ruth again.”
“I haven’t talked to her about you all day, and she never said a word about us getting married.”
“I don’t mean just now. I mean all your life. Certainly, much of what she says is very wise. One shouldn’t just leap into something without counting the cost. But one oughtn’t be afraid of life, either. Anything worth doing involves risk, marriage most especially. We could spend the next decade getting better acquainted, and that still wouldn’t guarantee a happy marriage.”
“I realize that. It’s just that I’ve had such a sheltered life really. I want to make sure . . .” But she let the words trail off, not knowing what else to say.
“You want to look about a bit before tying yourself down. I suppose spending the evening with Bell has made you think more along those lines.”
“I hardly know him.”
“But you’d like to find out more.”
“Don’t be silly. He’s a nice boy, but I’m not interested in him. I mean, it is good to talk to someone from home, but that’s all it is.”
He studied her face for a long moment. Then his eyes warmed, and he brought her hand to his lips, pressing it with a gentle kiss. “I understand. Really, I do. And I wasn’t trying to press you into a decision before you’re ready to make one. I love you, and I want the honor of having you for my wife, but only if that’s what you want, too. And if it takes a while for you to be sure that’s what you want, it’s well worth the waiting. In the meantime, we have a puzzle to keep us occupied, as well as the winning of your aunt.”
Madeline laughed softly. “It’s a toss-up which one is going to be more difficult.”
“Nonsense. Your dear auntie won’t be able to resist the Farthering charm much longer.”
“Don’t bet on it,” she teased. “But that was awfully sweet of you, Drew, bringing her that doll.”
“Do you think she liked it?”
“Very much so. She doesn’t quite know what to make of you yet, and you keep refusing to be what she expects.”
Laughing, he stood and extended a hand to her. “Come along, darling. It’s late, and your aunt will be cross.”
She put both dirty cups in the sink. “Why should she be cross?”
“Well, either she’s awake and wondering what mischief I’ve drawn you into, or she’s still asleep in the chair and will have a stiff neck when we wake her up.”
“I don’t wish her a stiff neck, but I hope she’s still asleep. I suppose I’d better go get her and head back to the cottage.”
Sure enough, Aunt Ruth was still sleeping when they returned to the library. They helped her to her feet, found her more groggy than cross, and escorted her back to the cottage. Drew stole a quick kiss from Madeline as the older woman tottered inside, and then he went up the moonlit path back to the house.
Breakfast the next morning was serene and pleasant. The August day was warm and windy, and the smell of rhododendrons wafted from the garden below the terrace, competing with the equally delicious aroma of rashers and eggs and Mrs. Devon’s homemade marmalade on toast.
“I thought Nick would be down by now,” Madeline said when the meal was almost over. “What’s he up to today?”
“Sleeping all hours, no doubt,” her aunt observed.
Drew offered her another slice of bacon. “Actually, ma’am, I understand that he and Mr. Padgett, the manager here at Farthering Place, went off quite early this morning to see to some business matters. Nick will be taking over here when the old gentleman decides to retire. He’s really quite industrious.”
“Well, you could learn from his example, young man.” Aunt Ruth speared two slices of bacon with her fork and slid them onto her plate, and he smiled in answer.
“No doubt. And I do have quite a lot to keep me occupied today.”
Madeline’s eyes met his, and he saw worry in them.
“Have you thought more about who could have killed that woman?” she asked.
Drew added another spoonful of honey to his tea. “I’ve thought of little else. Poor Rog, sitting there in the jail in Winchester. I’ve got to drive over and see him this morning. I promised him cigarettes, and I’d like to talk to Birdsong if I can.”
“Pardon me, miss, but I believe this is yours.” With a curtsy, Anna set Madeline’s little beaded handbag on the corner of the table. “Tessa found it when she was cleaning this morning.”
“Oh, thank you.” Madeline smiled at the girl and then at Drew. “I didn’t even realize I didn’t have it. Come to think of it, I don’t remember taking it back to the cottage with me last night.”
“You’d better see if anything’s missing,” Aunt Ruth said.
Madeline laughed. “There’s nothing in it worth much of anything. Besides, Anna wouldn’t take anything, I’m sure.”
“Maybe not, but who knows about this Tessa she was talking about, or any of the other staff here.”
“I’m not worried, Aunt Ruth. They’re all good people.” Madeline turned to Drew once again. “Maybe Roger will have remembered something today that will help out. Do you think I could come with you?”
“I’d rather you didn’t, if you don’t mind, darling. The jail’s not at all a nice place, and I promise I’ll fill you in on every detail the moment I come back.”
Aunt Ruth pursed her lips. “I’m sure that nice Mr. Bell would think of something much more pleasant to talk to a young lady about, at breakfast or any other time.”
A gust of wind whipped a strand of hair into the older woman’s face. She swept it back with one hand, feeling with the other through the rest of her iron-gray locks.
“Oh, I’m losing hairpins left and right out here in the open air. I doubt I have three left. Run over to the cottage and get some for me, will you, Madeline?”
“Take some of mine.” Madeline slid her handbag over to her aunt, then looked back at Drew. “They don’t really think Roger could have killed her, do they?”
“He’s their prime suspect at the moment. They just don’t have anyone else, and even he doesn’t seem very likely to have committed all three murders.”
Aunt Ruth rummaged in the bag and made a little huff of exasperation.
Madeline turned to her. “What’s wrong?”
The older woman glanced at Drew, a smirk curling her lip. “Are you sure you’d like me to say, Madeline? In company, I mean.”
“What are you talking about?”
Aunt Ruth reached into the bag and took out a large, heavy key. It was attached to a little wooden oval with a number four carved into it.
“Were you planning to visit someone, missy?”
“Where did you get that?”
“Straight out of your bag. I’m not so worried about where it was as how it got there.”
“I’ve never seen it before. Drew, do you recognize it?”
“Could you have taken it with you by mistake from your ship when you came over, or perhaps one of the places you stayed before you came to Farthering?”
“I’d have noticed long before now if that were the case. Besides, I bought this purse here. Well, not in Farthering St. John, but in Winchester. It was after Carrie and Muriel and I came to stay.”
Drew studied the key. “Could be from the Queen Bess, I suppose. When was the last time you were there?”
“When we had lunch, you and Freddie and I.”
&n
bsp; “Could you have accidentally picked it up? Off the table or something?”
“I don’t think so. I suppose it’s possible, though.”
“Oh, well. Don’t let it trouble you, darling. I’ll take it back after I go see Rog. Or maybe we’ll walk down there later on and return it. How’d that be?”
She smiled and then sobered at the piercing look coming from her aunt.
“Really, Aunt Ruth, I don’t know how that got in my bag. You’re making some kind of scandal out of nothing. It’s just a key. I don’t even know what it unlocks.”
“Mischief, if you ask me. That’s what it unlocks.”
Drew slipped the key into his coat pocket. “Well, we’ll send it right back to where it belongs, mischief and all, and no harm done.”
“Humph.”
And for the rest of the meal, Aunt Ruth said no more.
The trip to the jail in Winchester proved singularly unproductive. Drew wasn’t allowed to see Roger Morris, who was “in interrogation,” and he had no choice but to leave the cigarettes for him. He was also not allowed to talk to Chief Inspector Birdsong. Though the desk sergeant did not say, Drew suspected Birdsong was also “in interrogation.”
He was back home before eleven, and he and Madeline walked down to Farthering St. John just in time for lunch. Drew couldn’t help smiling when he saw Mr. Llewellyn’s shiny red two-wheeler leaning against the wall at the side of the inn.
“Looks as if we’ll be safe for the time being. He’s likely in there having a pint with his shepherd’s pie.”
Madeline shook her head. “He’s a nice old man, even if he can never remember my name. He’s told me all sorts of interesting things he remembers hearing about our civil war from when he was a little boy.”
“You should ask him what he remembers about our civil war.”
She laughed. “When was that? Two hundred years before ours?”
“More or less, but I don’t know how much he’ll remember. He may have still been in his cradle then.” Drew winked and then shook an index finger at her. “Just you remember to keep out of his way when he’s on his bicycle. Now, let’s go see to this key business, and then maybe we can find Bunny and ask him about Roger and Clarice.”
Death by the Book Page 11
