A Merry Murder

by Kate Kingsbury

  Charlie didn’t answer. He was too busy cursing himself for not speaking up sooner. Now he’d lost a golden opportunity. Then again, this could be fate stepping in, warning him not to say a word to Henry or anyone else. Maybe it was for the best.

  He picked up the glass and drank some more water. All right. No more agonizing over it. No matter how hard it might be, he would just keep the secret to himself and not say a word to Henry or anyone else. For everyone’s sake.

  * * *

  • • •

  Cecily turned around, the brooch still in her hand, and stared at the door as it slowly opened to reveal a familiar figure.

  “What are you doing in here?” Lady Oakes stepped inside the room and closed the door behind her. Her gaze switched to the open jewelry box on the dresser. “You are stealing my jewels! I shall have you arrested.”

  “I don’t think so,” Cecily said, keeping her voice calm. She held up the brooch. “After all, you stole this from Lady Farthingale, did you not?”

  Shock registered on the aristocrat’s face, then she raised her chin. “I certainly did not. My husband purchased that brooch for me last Christmas.”

  “Indeed. Yet I saw Lady Farthingale wearing it just a few days ago.” Cecily moved away from the dresser. “Perhaps I should ask your husband where he bought it.”

  “No!” Lady Oakes held up her hand. “There is no need to bother him with this. I didn’t steal it from Lady Farthingale. She gave it to me. As a gift.”

  “I believe you told me you had never met the lady.”

  Lady Oakes sank onto the side of the bed. “I didn’t want my husband to know that I was that well acquainted with her. He had a fierce feud with her husband.”

  Cecily stared at her, doubts creeping into her mind. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t remember seeing the brooch when she had visited Lady Farthingale in her hotel. Could she possibly be wrong in her deductions of the crime? Or was Lady Oakes more of an accomplished liar than she’d realized?

  There was only one way to find out. “Lady Oakes,” she said as she sat down next to the woman on the bed, “I’m afraid I have some rather startling news about your husband.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Clarence? What the devil are you saying?”

  “I’m sure you will have trouble accepting this,” Cecily said, “but I’m convinced that your husband was being blackmailed by Lord Percival, and Sir Clarence had to dispose of him.”

  Lady Oakes sat for a long moment in silence. When she spoke again, her voice sounded flat and unemotional. “Why would Lord Percival blackmail my husband?”

  “I believe that somehow the gentleman found out about your past. Your husband must have been desperate to keep it a secret, since he is responsible for two deaths.”

  For an instant, raw anger blazed in the aristocrat’s eyes, then she dropped her gaze to her hands. “I see,” she said quietly.

  Cecily cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  Lady Oakes looked up again. “How do you know about my past?”

  “From one of my staff. She heard it from someone else while at a protest.”

  “A protest,” Lady Oakes repeated, as if trying to work out something in her mind. After a moment or two, she added, “You said my husband was responsible for two deaths?”

  “Yes. He was seen paying a visit to Lady Farthingale at her hotel. She was attacked later in the street. I believe your husband was responsible.”

  Lady Oakes shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  “I feel confident enough in my suspicions to contact the constable. I wanted to warn you before I did so.”

  Cecily began to rise, but just then the aristocrat suddenly broke into a storm of weeping.

  “I can’t . . . believe . . . my husband would do such a thing,” she managed between sobs. “I just can’t understand.”

  Cecily sat down again and put out a tentative hand, but Lady Oakes surged to her feet.

  “Excuse me. I need to fetch a handkerchief.” Still sniffing and gulping, she hurried over to the dressing table and opened a drawer.

  Cecily stared down at her hands. She was playing a dangerous game. If her hunches were wrong, she would be in all sorts of trouble. Not only with Sir Clarence, but also her husband and, no doubt, Inspector Cranshaw.

  Lady Oakes returned to the bed and blew her nose on the white lace-edged handkerchief. “Please excuse me,” she muttered. “This is all so overwhelming.”

  “I’m sure it must be.” Cecily tried to sound sympathetic. “Is there anything I can do? Anyone I can call?”

  “I think you’ve done quite enough.”

  Taken aback by the woman’s sudden harsh tone, Cecily stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your prying into affairs that don’t concern you are causing me a great deal of trouble.”

  So, she was right after all. Staring into the cold eyes of the aristocrat, Cecily could hear again the soft footstep behind her just before she fell down the stairs. She was right about everything. Lady Oakes standing by the Christmas tree, nursing a sore arm that must have been injured when she’d attacked Lady Farthingale. The single glove in the wastebasket—the other one no doubt covered in blood and had perhaps been disposed of immediately.

  Her last conversation with Lady Oakes. The aristocrat had used the past tense when speaking of Lady Farthingale, though she couldn’t have known the woman was dead.

  At the time Cecily had not noticed the mistake. Now it all made sense.

  Lady Oakes smiled, though without a trace of humor. “Ah, I see you are beginning to understand. Let me enlighten you. Yes, Sir Percival was blackmailing my husband. We have paid dearly to ensure his silence, but I just couldn’t trust him to keep his mouth closed. When he drank too much, which was practically every night, he became careless with his conversation. I was afraid he’d unintentionally reveal our secret.”

  “So you decided to get rid of him.”

  Lady Oakes’s gaze flickered for a moment. “I had no choice.”

  Cecily struggled to control her rising anger. “You let an innocent young girl take the blame for your despicable deed. Had I not intervened, that child would have spent most of her life in prison.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” She actually sounded regretful. “I thought she would have an alibi, or that no one would believe she was capable of the crime. I only used her name on the note because I saw her with Percy and I knew he would come running if he thought she was inviting him to a midnight rendezvous.”

  “Well, you were mistaken. Mazie was arrested and she is still behind bars, quite terrified to be there, I might add.”

  Lady Oakes’s face hardened again. “I did what I had to do. Not just for me, but for my husband’s reputation. We would have been ruined if the truth had come out.”

  “What about Lady Farthingale?”

  Lady Oakes shrugged. “She knew about the blackmail. I saw her leave her scarf at the reception desk, and I picked it up. I intended to keep it for myself, but then I decided to tie it around her husband’s neck, hoping to cast suspicion on her. Her husband had left her close to destitute. It was feasible that she would want to get rid of him.”

  “You hated her that much?”

  “She suspected my husband of killing Percy and demanded a large sum of money to keep her silence.”

  Cecily shook her head. All this scheming and destroying lives made her sick. “I saw your husband going into her hotel.”

  “He went to pay her. I couldn’t trust her to keep silent about everything, so I followed her the next morning and took back the money.”

  “Stealing her brooch and killing her in the process.”

  “Again, I had no choice.”

  “Does your husband know you are responsible for these deaths?”

  Lady Oakes’s smile was far fr
om pleasant. “If he does, he hasn’t said as much. He’s probably grateful to me for solving his problems.”

  “I would think they were more your problems than his.”

  Cecily started to rise, her blood chilling when a knife appeared in Lady Oakes’s hand. Apparently, the woman had drawn it from its hiding place when she went to fetch her handkerchief. Given a few more minutes, Cecily told herself, she would have found the knife and the proof she’d sought.

  Now she was faced with a woman who was obviously unbalanced if she thought she could get away with a third murder.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Lady Oakes surged to her feet and stood over her, the knife poised to strike. “I will silence anyone who threatens to reveal my secret.”

  Cecily struggled to remain calm. “How are you going to explain a dead body in your suite?”

  Lady Oakes shrugged. “I came in here and found you lying dead on my bed. You must have learned the identity of Lord Farthingale’s killer and he silenced you.”

  Cecily nodded. “In which case, since the body is in your suite, your husband will be an immediate suspect.”

  “He is in the card rooms with a dozen or more witnesses.”

  “Then you will be a suspect. If I were you, I’d find a better place to do your silencing.”

  The aristocrat stared at her for so long, Cecily began to hope she’d made her point, but then, with a howl of rage, Lady Oakes raised her hand higher.

  Just as she began the downward thrust, Cecily drove the open pin of the dragonfly brooch deep into the woman’s upper arm.

  Lady Oakes let out a shriek of pain and dropped the knife. Before she could bend down to retrieve it, Cecily thrust both her hands forward and shoved the woman hard.

  As Lady Oakes toppled backward into the wardrobe behind her, Cecily scrambled to retrieve the knife.

  Just then the door burst open and Sir Clarence bounded into the room. He stopped short at the sight of his wife cowering in front of the wardrobe and Cecily standing over her holding the knife.

  “What the devil—” he began, but his wife’s frantic outburst interrupted him.

  “Stop her! She’s trying to kill me!”

  Sir Clarence turned to Cecily and she quickly held up her hand. “I’m not trying to kill anyone. It’s your wife who has committed two murders. She has just confessed to the crimes.”

  The gentleman’s face turned white and he staggered back a step or two.

  “Don’t believe her!” Lady Oakes screamed. “She’s the one who killed them. Now she’s trying to kill me.”

  Before Cecily could answer, the door opened once more. She let out a long sigh of relief when she saw the worried face of her husband.

  “What the blue blazes is going on in here?” Baxter thundered.

  “Lady Oakes has confessed to the murders of Lord and Lady Farthingale.” Cecily held up the pearl-handled knife. “She attempted to kill me, too.”

  Sir Clarence groaned. “That is my wife’s knife. I bought it for her long ago to protect herself if she was attacked by a pickpocket.”

  “She stole it from me!” Lady Oakes started weeping again. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  Sir Clarence put an arm around his wife. “It’s all right, Penelope. We’ll get this sorted out.”

  Worried that he believed in his wife’s innocence, Cecily said quietly, “I must send for the constable. This has to be reported.”

  To her relief, there was only sorrow in Sir Clarence’s eyes when he looked at her. “I know. We will wait here for him.”

  Baxter strode to his wife’s side. “Are you all right?”

  Cecily smiled up at him. “I’m perfectly fine. Thanks to a beast that flies.”

  Baxter shook his head. “What does that mean?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” She turned to Sir Clarence, who still held his weeping wife. “I trust you will keep your wife here until the constable arrives?”

  The gentleman gave her a solemn nod. “You have my word.”

  She met his gaze for a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

  His face was bleak as he answered, “As I am.”

  She left the room with her husband following close on her heels.

  Outside in the hallway, Baxter drew her to a stop. His face was set in grim lines, and she braced herself for his anger. “What in heaven’s name possessed you to go after that woman alone?”

  “I didn’t go after her. I went to search her room and she surprised me.” She laid a hand over his. “Can we discuss this in our room? We must ring the constabulary right away.”

  “Very well.” He let her go and followed her to their suite.

  Once inside, he made his way directly to his desk and reached for the telephone. After dialing for the night clerk at the main desk, he waited, his face a stern mask, for several long seconds before barking into the receiver, “Put me through to the police.”

  Seconds ticked by while he waited yet again, giving Cecily time to prepare her speech. She had promised him once that she would never again put herself in a dangerous position without him by her side. Then again, she had actually not been in danger when she entered the room. She just hadn’t expected Lady Oakes to return to her suite quite so soon.

  Obviously, the woman had not appreciated Phoebe’s efforts at entertaining.

  Baxter’s voice brought Cecily back to attention. “Albert? Hugh Baxter here. We need a constable here at the Pennyfoot right away. Yes. I know. Yes, it is necessary. We have a murderer here waiting to be arrested. No, I will tell Northcott when he gets here. Or shall I ring Inspector Cranshaw? Yes, I thought so.” Muttering an oath under his breath, Baxter replaced the receiver on its hook, and sat down behind his desk. After opening a drawer, he withdrew a small bottle of brandy, muttering, “I need some sustenance.”

  She watched him tip the bottle to his lips, her heart racing with anxiety. Baxter rarely drank spirits, and when he did, it was always from a glass, a sip at a time. She had never before seen him drink straight from a bottle.

  She sat down on her chair and folded her hands in her lap. Whatever happened next, she promised herself, she would remain calm. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she said quietly, “I’m sorry, Bax. I just wanted to take a look around the room. I thought Lady Oakes would be watching the pantomime.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that’s where you were going?”

  “Because you would have insisted on coming with me, and that would have attracted too much attention. As it was, I managed to slip away among all that confusion onstage. What prompted you to come to Lady Oakes’s suite?”

  “Phoebe managed to restore order onstage. When the curtains opened again and you didn’t return, I became worried. I saw Sir Clarence and his wife get up and leave, and I decided to go and look for you. You weren’t backstage and I thought you might have come back here for some reason. I reached the top of the stairs just in time to hear a scream and saw Sir Clarence burst into his suite. I heard your voice, and rushed in after him.”

  “Lady Oakes said her husband was in the card rooms. He must have changed his mind and decided to join his wife instead.”

  “There were no games tonight. I canceled them so the maids could see the pantomime if they were so inclined.”

  Cecily looked at him in surprise. “That was most thoughtful of you.”

  He gave her an accusing look. “When you left, you told me you were going to help Phoebe.”

  She shrugged. “I had to say something.”

  “You lied to me.”

  She looked down at her hands. “Yes, I did. And I’m sorry. Sometimes it is necessary.”

  “It should never be necessary to lie to your husband.”

  “You’re right.” She looked up at him and gave him her sweetest smile. “I’m so sorry. I did what I thought was best for the
situation. I didn’t think for one minute that I would be in danger.”

  Baxter leaned his elbows on the desk and ran his hands through his hair. “Cecily Sinclair Baxter, you will one day be the death of me. My heart can’t take much more of this worrying about you.”

  She widened her smile. “But you love me, do you not?”

  A reluctant glimmer of a smile tugged at his lips. “Indubitably.”

  “Then that’s all that matters.” She got up and walked around the desk. Bending over, she dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  • • •

  P.C. Northcott arrived a short time later, out of breath and obviously annoyed at being dragged away from a family party. “I hope you didn’t get me here on a wild-goose chase, Mrs. B,” he said when Cecily met him in the lobby. “I’m confident I already have your murderer in custody.”

  “And I’m just as confident the real murderer is upstairs in room number three. The lady has confessed to me that she killed Lord Farthingale to prevent him revealing a secret that would have destroyed not only her life but that of her husband, as well.” She held out the knife she had taken with her from the room. “Here is what I believe is the murder weapon that killed Lady Farthingale. Lady Oakes also used it to attack me.”

  Judging from the pained expression on his face, P.C. Northcott wrestled for several moments with the desire to do his duty and his reluctance to admit he was wrong before slowly nodding. “Very well. I shall go up there and make an arrest. I may need you as a witness when Inspector Cranshaw gets here. That’s unless the lady confesses to me.” He took the knife from her and carefully wrapped it in his handkerchief before sliding it into his pocket.

  Cecily wasn’t too thrilled at the prospect of having to deal with the wretched inspector, but if it meant freeing Mazie from prison, she would match wits with the devil himself. “You can count on it,” she told the constable, then watched him climb the stairs with a certain amount of misgivings.

  Lady Oakes was an accomplished liar. Cecily had no actual proof of anything she had told Northcott. At least Sir Clarence appeared to believe her. She could only hope that he would persuade his wife to admit the truth.