by Nancy Warren
“And does Ryan know his biological mother?”
I looked at his classically chiseled profile. “No. When Annabel joked that Enid could be his mother, he said if she was, he’d have to kill himself. Or her.”
Rafe glanced over at me and then turned his gaze back to the road ahead. “Do you think she was Ryan’s birth mother?”
“Isn’t it possible? Maybe he’d always wondered, made up stories about the woman who really wanted him but had to give him up, and then he found out the true story and snapped. Maybe he killed Enid.”
“We’ll get Theodore to do some digging. If Ryan is her child, he had a very personal motive for killing her.” He swerved the car to avoid a fox that ran in front of the car. “However, I still favor the theory that the killer was trying to stop the production for some reason.”
I was thinking. “There must be easier ways to stop a show being produced than murdering someone. And it didn’t work, anyway. They’re going ahead with the production.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I was surprised myself. But Teddy is determined to complete the project, and Molly seems equally keen. This show’s a big part of promoting his new book. And Molly seems like the kind of person who finishes what she starts. They’ve got next weekend already booked to finish shooting.”
He looked confused. “But what about Enid?”
“Nobody outside the production will ever know that Enid was originally part of the show.”
“They’re replacing her?”
“Yes. Teddy chose the replacement. Her name is Margot Dodeson. She’s a rather timid woman andTeddy took a shine to her. It was his idea that ask her to replace Enid. She’s another one of my customers. An excellent knitter already. And, best of all for Teddy, she’s not the type of person who keeps interrupting the class.”
He glanced at me significantly. “What a stroke of good luck for Teddy.”
I understood his meaning but immediately dismissed it. “I can’t believe Teddy would resort to murder just to get a different person in his class.”
“What about Margot Dodeson? If she was enamored of Teddy, perhaps she killed Enid Selfe in order to take her place?”
It wasn’t a bad thought. “But how could she possibly have known she’d be chosen?”
“Perhaps Teddy whispered in her ear and said, ‘Oh, Margot Dodeson, how I wish that you were in my class instead of Enid Selfe.’”
“And then she made it happen.” Margot had definitely seemed starstruck by Teddy. But when I’d spoken to her earlier today, she hadn’t seemed as though she were expecting the call. Still, Rafe was right. It was too early to dismiss any theories, no matter how outlandish, until we’d explored them.
We motored along for a few more miles. The early evening sun drizzled between the trees that met overhead, throwing patterns of shadow on the road ahead. Idly, I thought how pretty the shadows would look translated into lace. Ha. I was thinking about knitting outside of shop hours. This had to be progress.
Rafe broke the silence. “This won’t do your shop any good, having a murder victim found there.”
“I know. But the police aren’t releasing much about the murder, including the exact location of where it happened.”
“That’s good news for you. And the television production.”
“Poor Enid. She so wanted to be a star. Now she’s been written right out of the show.”
“Don’t waste your sympathy. I suspect that Enid was the author of her own misfortune.”
“She certainly did seem to leave a trail of unhappy people behind her.”
“One of them was unhappy enough to kill her.”
Chapter 13
The call of a peacock is not nearly as pretty as the peacock itself. It sounds like a combination between a crow, a seagull, and a honking goose. Long and wailing and weirdly nasal, considering peacocks don’t have nostrils.
I could hear their cries as we drew into the drive that led up to Rafe’s manor house. It was beautiful. A gardener was training an unruly climbing rose onto a trellis against the ancient wall that edged the gardens that bordered the drive. On one side, three peahens were picking away at the velvet green lawn, taking absolutely no interest in the two peacocks on the other side of the drive, their tails fanned out, the feathers glowing iridescent emerald and sapphire in the sunlight. The peahens might not be impressed by the sight, but I certainly was. Rafe pulled into a modern garage hidden behind a stone wall, and as we emerged, my old friend Henri came waddling up, looking for tidbits.
“Henri, if you get much fatter, you’ll end up on someone’s table,” Rafe scolded the peacock, who was eyeing him, looking for a treat. Nyx took one look at the bird and stalked down toward the front entrance of the manor. Nyx wasn’t the kind of cat to use the back door.
“You’d eat a peacock?” I asked in horror.
“It was quite a delicacy in my day. Henri would have been the centerpiece of the feast.”
Perhaps Henri knew he was safe, for he seemed to take little interest in Rafe’s warning. He regarded me with his black, glistening eyes and fanned his tail out for me. “If I were a peahen, I would marry you in a minute,” I told him, delighted as he began to turn in a slow circle, letting me see his full magnificence. I held up my hand, showing him the pellet of bird food I’d taken from the bag Rafe kept in the car. He very delicately took it from my palm.
Rafe took my hand and led me toward the house. Behind me, Henri let out his very unappealing cry. I wasn’t sure whether he was thanking me for the morsel or saying, “That’s it? I fanned my tail and danced around for one measly pellet?”
“What about my bag?” I asked, pulling back.
“William will see to it.”
By the time we got to the front, the doors were open and William was standing there. He looked the most correct gentleman’s gentleman apart from the chef’s apron he was wearing. “Lucy,” he said, giving me a smile. “It’s so lovely to see you. I hope you brought your appetite.”
“Just the thought of your cooking makes me hungry,” I admitted. Shock hadn’t affected my appetite much. I’d eaten a huge breakfast this morning, then tucked into the coffee and sandwiches from Elderflower, and now my stomach seemed to be up for one of William’s scrumptious meals.
William said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.” Before he could tell us what the surprise was, we pretty much figured it out when a cultured, Oxford-educated voice called out, “Lucy. Rafe. Very nice to see you. Hope you don’t mind us dropping by like this. William said it was all right.”
I didn’t know about Rafe, but I was delighted to see Charlie and Alice. They came around the side of the manor house. She had a notebook in her hand and was holding swatches of fabric, so it didn’t take any use of my supernatural powers to work out that they were here for wedding planning.
Rafe strode forward to shake Charlie’s hand. “Not at all. Delighted to see you. Will you join us for dinner?”
I couldn’t believe that he hadn’t checked with William first. I didn’t think William kept a well-stocked pantry for humans, but when I asked him in a whisper if there was enough, he gave a soft chuckle. “I love to cook. Don’t worry. There’s always enough. Besides, I knew they were coming. I hope you don’t mind if dinner’s a rehearsal for what we’ll serve at the wedding.” I could tell he was pleased to have people to cook for, so I let my slight worry go. Instead, I walked forward to hug Alice and Charlie.
Alice held me tight. “I’m so sorry about your horrible day. Are you all right?”
“Yes. But please, let’s talk about weddings and not murders.” I was so happy to have something good to think about, like their wedding, on this dark day. I told them I’d stay out of their way while they were working out their wedding details, but they both cried out in protest. Alice said, “No. I want your advice, Lucy.”
And Charlie just looked relieved. “Really, anything you and Alice decide is fine with me.” He glanced at Rafe. “Not really my thing, wed
ding planning.”
Rafe laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll sit on the terrace like civilized men and have a drink while the ladies sort out the details.”
I shook my head at Rafe. “Honestly, your attitudes about women are as old as this manor house.” Naturally, he and I both knew they were at least that old, but I was trying to bring his notions more into the modern day. With qualified success, but I’m nothing if not an optimist.
There was general laughter, but I hoped that Rafe took my meaning. And then Alice grabbed my hand and said, “Come on around the back. We’re going to have the ceremony in Moreton-Under-Wychwood, but the reception will be in the gardens at the back. I’ll show you.”
I followed her around the side of the building. There was another gardener back there, and it occurred to me that keeping the grounds was almost as much work as the house itself. It was beautiful, though. In the middle distance, a lake shimmered in the sunshine. Grass fields were dotted with sheep, like so many clouds on a green sky. Since Rafe had no need of sheep that I knew of, I suspected he rented out those fields to a farmer. Maybe he just kept the sheep for their aesthetic value. They certainly were pretty.
Alice followed my gaze. “This is such a beautiful spot. I can’t believe Rafe’s generosity.”
I felt warm inside. I refused to call Rafe my boyfriend—you couldn’t have a boyfriend who was half a millennium old—but I had some sort of proprietary interest in him. Some things were probably better without a name.
Naturally, Alice, being Alice, had sketched out a full plan of the garden and where everything was going to go. There was very little for me to do except approve. And I did. She had decided on small round tables dotted throughout the gardens, so people could rest a drink or share an appetizer and then move on and circulate. “I didn’t want a formal sit-down dinner. I want our friends to meet and mingle.”
Since I knew that at least some of the guests would be vampires, I approved her plan heartily. The fewer set meals, the better. I thought her colors were beautiful. She’d chosen a sophisticated shade of pink that was so pale it was more of a blush, and cream. “With my coloring, I can’t wear pure white, so I’m going with antique silk.” The fabric swatches were for table linens and I could picture how pretty the tables would look. She had pictures of the flower arrangements she was getting, and they were simple—bud vases on the cocktail tables with a single pink rose in each, and larger floral arrangements in tubs around the grounds and on the terrace.
“What do you want me to wear?” Since she’d asked me to be a bridesmaid, I’d had visions of some hideous gown, but she reassured me immediately. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind wearing something in this same pink. We’ll choose the dress together, if that’s okay.”
It was more than okay. I said, truthfully, “I’ll just be happy to see you and Charlie tie the knot. You’re so perfect for each other.”
“I’ve always known that, but it took Charlie a little longer to fall in love with me.”
I didn’t share with her that it also had taken a good dose of love potion to encourage Charlie’s somewhat clueless heart to recognize its own needs. But Alice didn’t need to know those details. She said, “I’ve asked Violet to be a bridesmaid too. It’s funny. I haven’t known you two as long as some of my friends, but when I thought about my wedding, you were the ones I wanted to stand up with me.”
On some level, I suspected that Alice recognized it was due to Violet and me that she was getting her happy ending. Though it hadn’t been a smooth ride. As someone very smart had said, “The course of true love never did run smooth.” Especially not if there were witches involved.
While we wandered around the garden deciding on the best places to hang lanterns, Charlie and Rafe settled themselves on the stone terrace. They could see us, but they also had their privacy. And, for Rafe, complete shade. I said to Alice, with a nod to the folder she was carrying around, “Okay, show me your dress.”
She giggled. “I haven’t completely decided yet. Can I show you pictures of the two dresses I’m down to?”
“Absolutely.” I didn’t tell her, but the last time I’d been a bridesmaid, I had to accompany the world’s pickiest bride to twelve bridal shops and watch as she tried on approximately 7,000,012 wedding dresses and then dictated that we, the long-suffering bridesmaids, all eight of us, should wear a shade of green that has never been seen in nature. It was the color of Astroturf. Needless to say, it wasn’t flattering. However, I was a good sport, and I was prepared to be a good sport now. It was so much easier when I had some say in what I’d be wearing and when the bride had done most of the wedding shopping on her own.
She showed me two photographs torn from magazines of bridal gowns. Both were simple, as suited a garden wedding. One had lace sleeves; the other had pearls on the bodice. No wonder she was torn. They’d both look amazing on her and I told her so.
“I tried them both on, but I couldn’t decide.”
“Okay. You and I and Violet are all going shopping together. We’ll help you choose your dress and get bridesmaid dresses at the same time.”
“Are you sure you have time?” For anything that made me think of happy occasions and not a woman being murdered in my shop, I had nothing but time.
“Also, I’m looking forward to a new experience.” I tried a wicked grin. “The hen party.” Okay, we had something similar back home, a bachelorette party, but for some reason in the UK, they called them hen parties. I was pretty familiar with them in Oxford. Groups of young women would totter around from pub to pub in high heels and short dresses, one invariably in a plastic tiara, a sash that said “Bride” and sometimes a bit of lace curtain simulating a veil.
Alice looked horrified at the idea. “Oh, please no.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to be humiliated and hung over for my wedding.”
I laughed aloud, then promised we wouldn’t humiliate her. However, a woman getting married deserved a send-off from her female friends. She promised to give me a list of women coming to the wedding, and I promised no plastic tiaras. Once we were both satisfied with the arrangement, we went to join the men. Charlie was enjoying an amber pale ale in a glass beaded with condensation. Rafe was sipping red wine.
When we arrived and settled ourselves on the terrace, William came out with a cold silver ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne. “Ladies, champagne?”
I began to laugh. “I do love wedding planning.” And, if I knew Rafe, that was going to be a very special bottle of champagne.
William popped the cork and poured four icy glasses of champagne. Even the glasses looked like palace treasures. Once we all had the cold bubbling drinks in our hands, Rafe rose and said, “May I propose a toast? To a couple who found true love in spite of all the many bumps along the way.” Here he shot a glance at me and raised one eyebrow, so slightly that only I could see the ironic implication. Okay, so Violet and I had caused a few of those bumps along the way. We’d also helped create that happy ending. He continued, “I wish you a long and happy marriage. Charles and Alice, happiness always.”
I echoed, “Charles and Alice. Happiness always.”
We sipped the champagne, cold, crisp and bubbly. I thought I could spend my whole life drinking nothing but this beautiful bubbly perfection in a glass that probably cost more than my parents’ house.
The attention span of Charlie and Rafe for wedding chat was quite a bit less than that of Alice and mine, so the conversation soon turned to the recent drama. While the news hadn’t been shared publicly, everyone on Harrington Street knew about the dead body found in my shop.
Charlie looked at me with concern “How are you holding up, Lucy? Rotten bad luck you had this morning.”
I never got tired of British understatement. Finding a murdered woman on the floor of my shop was “rotten bad luck,” indeed.
I tried not to shudder as I said, “It was horrible. But, luckily, the police were very quick to come and take care of it all.”
The million-dollar question. “I don’t think so.”
Alice said, “If you want a place to stay for a few days, until Cardinal Woolsey’s isn’t a crime scene anymore, you’re welcome to stay with me.”
It was so kind of her. I thanked her and then, trying not to blush, said that I would be staying with Rafe for a day or two. They both looked relieved. Alice said, “You’ll be safe here.”
I thought I’d be safe in my own bed as well, but I probably wouldn’t sleep.
Charlie said, “We met her, of course. The woman who was killed. At the book signing. She was hard to miss. One of those people who draw attention.”
It was an interesting way to describe a person, but I understood what he meant. It was as though Enid Selfe sucked in more than her fair share of oxygen in a room. “Sadly, the attention she got wasn’t always positive. Still, she was very excited about being on TV.”
Charlie said, “I never understand why people want to be on television, especially those reality shows, where they all share the same house or go on dates with a cameraman coming along to record the entire ordeal. I couldn’t think of anything worse.”
“I think Enid Selfe loved the idea of being on television. She was an excellent knitter, and she thought she was going to be the star of the class. But that turned out not to be true. Teddy Lamont has a very different style, one I personally love. He’s not all about perfection of stitches but has a more organic, joyous approach to color and technique. He’s not one to get on a fuss if a person makes a few mistakes. Enid was horrified. Her idea of knitting was perfect stitches following a pattern.”
Rafe said, “I think I’m with Enid Selfe on this one. If you’re going to do a craft, it’s nice to do it properly. Then you can worry about your color and your style.”
