Murder at the Mikado

by Julianna Deering

“Maybe . . .” he began. “Maybe if I had loved Fleur, if I had really loved her instead of just wanting her, I wouldn’t have let things go too far.”

  “And if she had cared anything for you, she would have let you alone in the first place.” There was a touch of wryness in Madeline’s expression. “Charming way for her to amuse herself.”

  “She has an interesting sense of fun, does Mrs. Landis, but I realized long ago that I don’t care to play along.”

  She twined her fingers into his and tilted her head to one side. “Shall we talk about something a little more pleasant, Drew?”

  “Brilliant idea, darling. What did you have in mind?”

  She gave him that pert look of hers. “Would you like to know who I’ve invited to come help me with the wedding plans?”

  “Very much. Anyone I know? King George? Mrs. Hoover?”

  “Don’t be silly. George is one of your friends, not mine. And from what I hear, Mrs. Hoover is packing her things and preparing to move out of the White House.”

  “Very well, that leaves us with just the population of the world minus two. How about a hint of some variety?”

  “Hmm, let me see.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “Well, if I were Yum-Yum, they would be Peep-Bo and Pitti-Sing.”

  “Ah, I see. ‘Three Little Maids from School,’ eh? Well, then who could it possibly be but the delightful Miss Holland and, ahem, Miss Brower.”

  “And I’m sure they’re just perishing to see Adorable Drew again.”

  Drew pretended to scowl. “Oh, joy unbounded.”

  “You love it and you know it,” Madeline said with a giggle. “Anyway, you know Nick has been pining for Carrie for months now.”

  “Has he been? Pining? I hadn’t noticed any pining.”

  She shook her head, looking faintly disgusted. “You men never notice anything. All right, maybe pining isn’t quite the word, but they got along very well when she was here this summer, and she didn’t end up marrying any English lords before she went home, so I think that’s pretty significant.”

  He laughed. “If you say so, darling. And, yes, I expect Nick will be quite pleased to see her. She seems an awfully nice girl, and I’d like Nick to find someone who suits him. At least better than Barbie Chalfont.” He pulled her a bit closer. “I’d like him to be as happy as I am, though I don’t know how he could possibly manage it.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and was puzzled to see something like wariness in her eyes. In another instant it was gone and she was all smiles again.

  “And what if he decides to move to America to be near her?”

  Drew’s eyes widened. “Nick? In America? For good?” He shook his head. “No, no. That would never do. That wouldn’t do at all.”

  “My father did it. He was English, but he seemed pretty happy living in America.”

  Drew looked at her, incredulous. “My girl, your father was not heir presumptive to the office of Estate Manager of Farthering Place. Nick is as much a part of Farthering as . . . as Denny! If he decides he cannot manage without Miss Holland, then she shall simply have to come here. We’ve plenty of room and a perfectly good auntie to chaperone until they decide whether or not to marry.”

  Madeline laughed. “You know Aunt Ruth isn’t going to live here, either. Not permanently.”

  “Why not? The more the merrier, I say. We have acres of room for everyone.”

  “The next thing you’ll suggest is that we marry her off.”

  Drew made a great show of considering this. “You know, that’s not a half-bad idea.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Aunt Ruth?”

  “Why not? Just because she’s reached a certain age, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still have a heart. Don’t you think she’s been alone long enough?” He sat up a little. “Oh, I know. We could have a double wedding. You and me and Aunt Ruth and her long-awaited love. No, wait, there’s Nick and Miss Holland, as well. A triple wedding! Won’t it be jolly?”

  She crossed her arms. “Now you’re just being silly. And who exactly is going to walk me down the aisle? Neither of us has any family to speak of, and my uncle Calvin isn’t really up to making such a long trip.”

  “We’ll think of something, darling. The doctor perhaps. Or the vet.” He grinned at her. “So when are the other two little maids meant to arrive from school?”

  “Carrie and Muriel won’t be here until a week before the wedding. Carrie’s father was absolutely against her coming back so soon, but since it is for the wedding, he finally gave in.”

  “What about Miss Brower? I never heard about her family when she was here before. Do they also object?”

  “She’s practically an orphan, too,” Madeline told him. “Her great-aunt raised her and pretty much lets her do as she pleases about most things.”

  “Ah,” Drew said, “this explains a great deal.”

  Madeline shook her head. “Muriel’s a good sort. Just a little brassy at times.”

  “Like a euphonium.”

  “But you like Carrie, don’t you?”

  “Miss Holland is a delight, and I have yet to meet anyone who seems more appropriate for Nick. I’m glad she’s coming back for a while. It will give them a chance to get better acquainted.”

  “Give who a chance to get better acquainted?” Nick asked as he came into the room.

  “You, my good fellow,” Drew said. “We’ve decided to marry you off, as well.”

  “Oh, all right.” Nick considered for a moment. “Anyone I know?”

  “You remember Miss Holland who came to visit with my Madeline this past summer, don’t you?” Drew asked.

  Nick’s eyes lit. “Oh, I should say I do.”

  “Well, she’s coming to Farthering Place.”

  Madeline nodded. “She and Muriel are coming to stay for a week before the wedding. Won’t that be fun?”

  “Oh, capital! I didn’t think she’d be back over so soon. She never mentioned it in her letters.”

  Drew gave him a knowing look. “You’ve exchanged letters, have you?”

  “A few,” Nick said. “You know, just keeping in touch.”

  “I see you were right after all, darling,” Drew said. “Young Mr. Dennison has been pining.”

  “Pining?” Nick asked. “Me? It’s a monstrous lie.”

  “Thinking fondly?” Drew suggested, and Nick smiled.

  “Well, perhaps that. She was jolly nice to have around, and I shouldn’t be unhappy to have her back again.”

  “You don’t think Barbie will mind, old man?”

  Nick made a face. “Barbie and I are on the outs again just now.”

  “Carrie suits you better anyway,” Madeline said.

  Dennison stepped into the room, clearing his throat with utter correctness. “Pardon me, sir, but Miss Madeline’s dressmaker is here.”

  “Oh.” Madeline glanced at her watch and then touched her lips to Drew’s cheek. “I didn’t realize it was so late. You boys try to behave.”

  She hurried out, and still Dennison stood there, lips pursed. “And you, Nicholas. Haven’t you any business to attend to?”

  “That’s what I came in here for, Dad.”

  “We’re just seeing to it,” Drew added. “Thank you, Denny.”

  Dennison bowed. “Very good, sir.”

  Drew laughed softly once the butler had gone. “You’d think you were working for him and not me.”

  “Good old Dad.” Nick chuckled. “He’s always afraid I’ll overstep my place.”

  “Couldn’t be done, old man. Couldn’t be done. What, after all, would I do without my Watson?”

  There was a little glint in Nick’s eye as he sat down next to Drew. “That, actually, is what I came to talk to you about. Don’t say anything to Dad.”

  Drew nodded, suddenly grim. “You noticed our visitor earlier, I take it.”

  “The Black Widow. Yes, I did. Who was it? More important, what was it and do you have another case?”

  “No case this
time. Well, to be precise, yes, there is a case, but no, I will not be looking into it.”

  “No? What case? And who was the woman?”

  “Did you read about that actor who was murdered last night? Ravenswood?”

  Nick nodded.

  “That’s the case,” Drew said. “And the woman was Mrs. Landis.”

  He quickly filled in the details of the case, Fleur’s involvement in it, and what she had asked of him. When he was done, Nick shook his head.

  “She always was bold. What about Landis?”

  Drew frowned. “I feel rather bad about him. No doubt our chief inspector has already been to see him about the case.”

  “But you’re not going to look into it?”

  “Afraid not, old man. My bride-to-be has expressed her extreme displeasure at the very notion, and to be frank, the idea of being around Fleur again doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest.”

  “After what happened in Oxford, no doubt.” Nick gave him a wry grin. “Those bad pennies. Always turning up, eh?”

  Drew shrugged. “So, no, I will not be investigating this case. I will merely enjoy the preparation for my upcoming nuptials, and you can pursue Miss Holland unimpeded.”

  “I rather like that idea. This thing with Barbie’s a bust anyway.”

  “What is it now?” Drew asked. With Barbie it was always something.

  Nick said, “I ought to have known better. She’s one of your crowd, not mine.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve been running with my set most of your life. Barbie’s never minded before.”

  “Well, I suppose she likes me well enough. I mean, for myself.”

  “Of course she does.”

  “But now we’ve gotten down to serious matters,” Nick added, “and I can see it’s never likely to work.”

  “Serious?” Drew hadn’t thought Nick and Barbie were that keen on each other. “You don’t mean . . . ?”

  “Oh, yes, very serious. She’s come to realize I can’t afford to take her to the posh places she likes, not often anyhow, and that I won’t let her pay. Not even under the table.”

  “No,” Drew said. “That simply isn’t done.”

  “Well, when the Right Honorable Sir Giles Nincompoop or Lord Tommyrot ask her to those places without a thought, what’s a chap to do?”

  “Sorry, old man.”

  Drew wouldn’t insult his friend by offering him money either, but it was a rotten spot for Nick to be in.

  Nick shrugged it off. “I expect, to the right girl, it won’t matter, and there’s no use getting tangled up with a wrong one. What’s that Scripture verse? Something about if you take fire into your lap, you can expect to be burnt?”

  “Something like that.”

  Nick was thoughtful for a moment. “You will be careful around Fleur, won’t you?”

  “I’m not eighteen anymore, and if she taught me anything, it was to be wary of women like her.” Drew stood and gave him a friendly swat on the shoulder. “Now, off to work before Denny sees you loitering and reports you to Mr. Padgett.”

  “Don’t think he won’t,” Nick said, standing. “Guess I’d best get at it then.”

  “Unless . . .” Drew gave him the smallest hint of a grin. “Unless you’d care to pop up to Farlinford with me for a moment while Madeline’s busy with her fitting.”

  “To do what?” Nick asked, eyes wary. “To not talk to Landis about the case?”

  Drew nodded. “I suppose I would like to know what the police said to him. Maybe I could give him a few pointers on how to deal with old Birdsong. What do you think?”

  “What about Madeline?”

  “She doesn’t have to know about it at all. It’s not as if I’d actually be looking into the case, and I certainly wouldn’t be seeing Fleur. Well, what do you say?”

  Nick glanced furtively at the door, where his father had just been standing. “Better hurry, if we’re going to go at all. Dad will no doubt see this as dereliction of duty and have me up on charges if he catches me at it.”

  “Right then.” Drew motioned toward the open French doors overlooking the lawn. “This way, and don’t dawdle.”

  Landis hurried out of his office, hand outstretched. “Good afternoon, Mr. Farthering. Mr. Dennison.”

  There were handshakes all around.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Farthering?” Landis asked.

  Drew smiled. “I hoped we might have a discussion about . . . recent events.”

  Landis’s welcoming smile vanished. “Actually I wanted to speak to you on the matter myself. Would you like to come in?” He glanced at Nick. “Both of you.”

  Landis ushered them into his office and into the chairs facing his desk. “Mind if I smoke? I started off wrong this morning and can’t seem to get turned the right way round. I hate getting into work behind my time.” He lit a cigarette, then settled into his own chair. “I hope you’ll forgive me for bothering you with this, Mr. Farthering, but I’ve heard about the murder investigations you’ve been involved with.” He nodded at Nick. “Both of you. This is, well, something I’d rather not have to discuss with the boss, but I don’t much know where else to turn.”

  Drew nodded. “About the Ravenswood murder.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “That’s exactly what we came to talk to you about. First off, I would strongly advise that you find someone who’s an expert at this sort of thing. Nick and I, as earnest as we are about delving into these kinds of cases, we’re rank amateurs. You’d do far better to go to the police or a professional who knows what he’s doing.”

  “Fleur told me you’d say that.”

  There was a touch of rue in the man’s expression, and Drew couldn’t help pitying him. “She told you she’d come to see me?”

  “Yes.” Landis shook his head. “I’m most terribly sorry she bothered you, Mr. Farthering. I didn’t know about it until afterward. I told her she must never do such a thing again, but now . . . well, now things are different.”

  Drew narrowed his eyes. “Different? How?”

  Landis exhaled sharply, sending smoke up toward the ceiling. “The police have been here to speak with me, and they’ve come to interview Fleur. Twice now. Just gathering information, they say, but it seems rather unlikely they’d waste their time if they didn’t see her as a suspect.”

  “I suppose not,” Drew said. “Do you know where she was at the time of the murder?”

  “I do,” Landis said. “She was at home all night. With me.”

  “Then there’s nothing to worry about, right?”

  Landis blew out his breath. “The police don’t seem to be completely convinced.”

  “All the more reason for you to involve professionals in the matter.”

  “No!” Landis took two more puffs of his cigarette before he went on. “Forgive me, Mr. Farthering. As you might expect, what with one thing and another, I’ve been a bit on edge lately. But, really, as Fleur told you, we don’t want this getting about. The scandal would ruin everything.”

  “You know it will get out if charges are pressed,” Nick said quietly.

  Landis nodded. “That’s why we were hoping you two might look into this for us. On the hush-hush, as it were.”

  “Believe me,” Drew told him with a touch of good humor, “I’ve had my share of notoriety these past few months. It doesn’t generally last.”

  “It’s not just the scandal.” Landis tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. “It’s . . . a certain family situation.”

  Drew lifted one eyebrow, waiting for the man to go on.

  “You may have heard of my uncle, Clive Vernet Brent. No? He made his fortune in the cotton mills up north some fifty years ago and has kept it through some fairly shrewd investments since then. He was eighty-eight last spring and, until a month or so ago, was as hale as I am. Now, though, his doctors tell me he won’t likely see eighty-nine.”

  Nick frowned. “Surely he’s not so fragile that the mention of su
ch a scandal would—”

  “No, that’s not it at all. But I am the only family he has left. He didn’t want me to marry Fleur. In fact, he very nearly disinherited me over it. I calmed him down, convinced him that she was nothing like he thought and promised him she would never shame my name or his.” The warmth came back into Landis’s eyes. “When Peter was born, that scotched a lot of his objections, and he’s seemed content since to know that when he’s gone, his money will come to me and, in time, to Peter.”

  Drew picked up a photograph that stood there on the desk, and again that look of pride came into Landis’s face. In the picture he was sitting in a large wicker peacock chair, with Fleur standing next to him. He had his hand at the small of her back, and she was looking straight ahead, smiling that dazzling smile and making the most of those eyes. Clearly the camera loved her as much as the footlights once had.

  Their little boy, Peter, was beaming at his father, standing sturdy-legged in Landis’s lap, both arms around his neck. Despite having his mother’s pretty features, he clearly did not share her dark hair and eyes. Landis was dark too, though perhaps he’d been fair as a child.

  “Yes,” Landis said. “Uncle dotes on the boy. I’d hoped to take Peter to see him one last time, but it doesn’t seem too likely now he’s ill. Seems rather a shame.”

  “It does. But I can see why he’d be taken with the little fellow. How old did you say he was?”

  “Four. And apart from wanting to climb everything in sight, the boy’s good as gold.”

  Drew chuckled and put the picture back where he’d found it. “I suppose you don’t want to risk the boy’s inheritance by scandalizing your uncle, eh?”

  “Precisely.” Landis’s expression turned sober. “He supports a school in Manchester for underprivileged boys. Of course, he’ll leave them a nice legacy regardless, but he told me when I married Fleur that if ever she caused a scandal, every penny of his money would go to the school. I haven’t money of my own to speak of, and I’d hate my boy to be left without anything.”

  “I understand,” Drew said. “Still, I’m afraid I can’t help you with this. Truly, you ought to have a professional, someone who can do you a proper job of it.”

  “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.”