by V. M. Burns
“Bloomin’ ’ell that American upstart has a nerve.”
Thompkins sighed, knocked briefly on the door, and then entered.
“Your ladyship. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” Thompkins started to back out.
“Good, Thompkins, I’m so glad you’re here. Please come in,” Lady Elizabeth said.
The butler entered and closed the door behind him and then stood near the wall.
“I was just sharing with Mrs. McDuffie the changes the Duchess of Windsor has requested.”
“Changes, m’lady?”
“Perhaps I should read the request.” Lady Elizabeth sighed and picked up a sheet of stationary. “‘My dearest Elizabeth.’”
Mrs. McDuffie snorted.
“‘You’ve been a real doll for opening your home for my little gathering. As you can see from the guest list, there’s a lot at stake, so I know you won’t be offended if I make a few small changes.’” Lady Elizabeth scanned the pages and then passed them to Mrs. McDuffie. “Perhaps you had better read them yourself.”
Mrs. McDuffie picked up the pages and read. “She wants everyone’s rooms changed.” She scanned on. “What bloody cheek. She wants that little tart of a maid moved to the blue room what looks out over the back garden.” Mrs. McDuffie slammed the paper down. “Well, I’ll not do it. I’ll not move ’Is Grace out of ’is large room for the likes of that little French strumpet.”
Thompkins coughed gently. “May I?” He picked up the pages and read them. Then he gently placed the pages on the table and pulled out his hand kerchief and wiped his hands. He turned to Lady Elizabeth and coughed. “If that is what your ladyship would like done, then, of course, we will honor your wishes, but . . .”
“Yes, Thompkins?”
“Well, in addition to the duke’s room being slightly larger than the other rooms, it is also closest to the stairs. It is a large help to the staff not to have to carry His Grace’s luggage down the hall.” Thompkins’s lips twitched. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Thompkins. I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” Lady Elizabeth sighed. “I’m okay with permitting the maid to stay near the duchess, if that’s what she wants. Do you think the other servants will mind?”
Mrs. McDuffie snorted. “No one will be missing that uppity little piece of baggage. You’d think she’s the ruddy duchess, the way she carries on.” Mrs. McDuffie stuck her nose in the air and looked down it.
Lady Elizabeth smiled at the housekeeper. She looked at the letter again, and her smile vanished. “Well, that’s good, but I agree James shouldn’t have to sacrifice his room. He’s practically family. I don’t really care about the others.”
“But it’s highly unusual to have women in rooms immediately next to the men, especially when there are connecting doors,” Thompkins said.
“I expect having men and women in separate wings is very old fashioned,” Lady Elizabeth said. “I suppose it’s a sign of the changing times. We shall have to trust that everyone will behave themselves and there won’t be any . . . inappropriate behavior.”
Thompkins coughed discreetly and proceeded to tell Lady Elizabeth about the conversation he just had with the two housemaids.
Mrs. McDuffie stared openedmouthed. “Cor blimey.”
Lady Elizabeth looked from the butler to the housekeeper. “Do you believe them?”
Mrs. McDuffie’s chest heaved and Lady Elizabeth held up a hand to stem her ire. “I’m sure the girls are very honest and trustworthy. I just mean . . . It just seems so . . . I mean it isn’t at all what I expected.”
Mrs. McDuffie nodded. “I see what you mean. Lord Chitterly isn’t the type of man a woman would risk wrecking ’er marriage for?”
“Something like that,” Lady Elizabeth said.
Mrs. McDuffie nodded. “Agreed. You mark my words that one isn’t about to risk a king for the likes of tubby Lord Chitterly.”
Lady Elizabeth suppressed a smile. “I agree with your assessment.” She picked up the letter and reread it. “I won’t move James. I’ll come up with some excuse, but I see no good reason why we shouldn’t do the other moves she requested. However, I want to talk to James before we do anything.” Lady Elizabeth stood. “So please hold off on the moves until I’ve had a chance to talk to him.”
Lady Elizabeth found James in the library.
He read the note and scowled. “Well, I don’t see how it can do any harm, and I’ll be happy to move if it—”
She held up her hand. “Please don’t feel you have to move. Actually, my housekeeper has flatly refused to move you out of the larger bedroom in favor of . . . ‘that French tart.’”
James laughed. “I’ll bet that got a reaction out of old Thompkins.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “Almost, but he maintained his composure. For the peace of my household staff, I shall have to insist you retain your bedroom.”
“I want you to know how much I appreciate you agreeing to do this.” James hesitated for a moment. “I think you can see how important this is, not only for Great Britain but for the entire world.”
“I can, but . . . well, I have to admit I’m slightly confused. I can’t believe the king and Parliament are in favor of this . . . gathering.”
James was silent for several minutes and then stood. “If you’re asking if this assembly is being done at the king’s request, the answer is no.”
“But then why?”
“Britain’s still a free country. We can’t prevent people from attending house parties. The country’s still recovering from the war and no one wants another one. If there is a peaceful way to prevent it, all the better.”
“But you don’t believe there is?”
James thought for a moment and then shook his head. “No. I don’t. But, there are people like Mary Astor and the ‘Cliveden set’ who have been trying to negotiate peace.”
“Peace, but at what cost?”
“Exactly. Britain can’t stand by helplessly with her hands behind her back while Hitler ravages Europe.” James smoked. “Plus, word is starting to trickle down about Hitler’s true intentions.”
Lady Elizabeth waited for him to continue, but he seemed far away. When he finally returned, he shook himself. “But I hope you understand why this is so important. We needed to find out what was going on. That’s why . . .”
“That’s why you needed them to come here.”
“They never would have come to my estate. I’m a bit too close to the throne, I’m afraid. When we heard the duchess was planning this gathering, we needed it to be at a place where we could have access without seeming to condone it. We had heard Lady Emerald Cunard was looking for a country estate for the occasion, but thankfully, she was unable to secure it in time.”
“I see. We have a large estate and we’re cousins, so we’re family, but not too close.”
James nodded. “Exactly.”
“Plus, William isn’t overly involved in politics, which means the duchess can take all of the . . . credit should a deal be made.”
Lady Elizabeth folded the letter from the duchess. “I had better instruct the staff to move forward with moving the guests’ bedrooms. Everything should be done by the time you all return from shooting.” She stood and headed to the door. One hand on the door, she turned back. “James, please be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Eventually, the shooting party left. There were twelve in all. Geoffrey Fordham-Baker elected to remain in the library with a bottle of scotch. Lady Elizabeth and Lady Penelope also chose to forego the shooting. Thompkins brought the tea tray into the library. Geoffrey Fordham Baker snored in a chair in the cor ner while the ladies drank tea.
“I am rather surprised Daphne chose to go shoot ing,” Penelope said.
Lady Elizabeth sipped her tea. “Well, she is rather a good shot.”
“I know. She was always a much better shot than me, but she never really seemed to enjoy the cold, the mud, or anythin
g else about it.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “I know what you mean. She did buy a new outfit, and James hasn’t seen how well she can shoot.”
Penelope smiled. “True. You know, she isn’t really as vain and frivolous as she seems.”
“Well, she may be vain, but she has brains and I think she’s found a reason to use them.”
“What do you mean?”
Lady Elizabeth set down her cup and took out her knitting. “Well, I believe she is truly in love for the first time, and I think she realizes that a duke needs a wife who can be a credit to him in his career. James isn’t just part of the idle rich. He’s an important per son with political aspirations, and I think she realizes his wife will need to do more than host tea parties and look pretty.”
Penelope stared at her aunt. “I think you’re right. I really do hope things work out between them.”
Lady Elizabeth paused in her knitting. “I just hope this weekend doesn’t backfire.”
“I’ve had an awful feeling about this whole thing. I know Victor is worried too. He thinks—”
Lady Penelope never got an opportunity to say what Victor thought because, at that minute, Thompkins abruptly entered the library.
“Excuse me, your ladyship, but there has been a terrible accident.”
“What kind of accident?” Lady Elizabeth asked.
“Someone’s been shot.”
All color left Penelope’s face. “Victor?”
“No, m’lady. I believe it’s the Duchess of Windsor.”
Chapter 12
I stayed up late writing and my brain wasn’t functioning on all cylinders, even after two cups of coffee. At least that was my excuse. If I’d been well rested when my sister called and asked what I was doing today, I would have asked why before responding. I’d learned to be cautious with Jenna over the years. When the twins were younger, that question would have been followed up with a request to babysit while she went to the movies, a concert, or shopping. Rarely did the question what are you doing include an invitation to the interesting activity. Of course, now the twins were adults, her previous requests for babysitting were now replaced with requests to take her place with unpleasant activities she had committed to do with our mom; I have a really important court case I have to prep for and was wondering if you could take Mom to the license bureau/dentist/podiatrist /etc. My sleep-deprived state was the reason I was now sitting at the police station. Part of her negotiations to get me to come included a large turtle caramel nut latte and a glazed donut from a gourmet coffee shop.
I sipped my expensive coffee in the same room Nana Jo and I had sat in just five days earlier. “I’m not sure why you need me here.”
“I’ve never met this A-squared person. You have a relationship with him.”
I nearly choked. “A relationship? He broke into my store and got into a fight with Dawson. I hardly call that a relationship.”
“It’s more interaction than I’ve had.” She sipped her tea. “Besides, he looks sleazy.”
I stared at her. “You’re at the police station. He’s not likely to attack you.”
“I’m not worried about him attacking me. I can take care of myself. I just don’t want to be alone with him.”
“If you’re looking for a bodyguard, you should have invited Nana Jo. She’s the one who’s packing heat.”
We both grinned.
A police officer escorted A-squared into the conference room. “You want me to stay?”
Jenna shook her head. “No, you can leave.”
He nodded. “You know the drill. Call if you need us.”
Alex Alexander, or A-squared, looked the same as he did on television. He was dirty. His clothes and hair were greasy. He smelled like a distillery, sweat, and vomit, which made the room seem even smaller.
“So, what can I do for you?” He propped his feet on the table and leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. The maneuver released a musk which had been trapped under his armpits, and I fought the desire to gag.
“The first thing you can do is put your arms down. You stink,” Jenna said.
A-squared laughed and I thought he wasn’t going to do it. I gave him my sternest schoolmarm stare, which did wonders with derelicts and delinquents. Jenna might not have been a teacher, but she had a fierce lawyer stare that caused criminals to cower in their boots. At least it made me want to cower. The combination seemed to work because he lowered his arms and chair and removed his feet.
“Thank you,” Jenna said.
“Who’re you?”
“My name is Jenna Rutherford. I’m the lawyer representing your son. He asked me to talk to you.”
“Yeah? What about?”
“Well, he’s concerned about you. He saw you on television and—”
“He saw that?” He laughed. “I was pretty good, huh? I’m a movie star. I saw him on television last night too. Not too flattering to his ole man, but . . .” He shrugged. “Everybody needs fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Mr. Alexander, I—”
“Call me A-squared. Everybody does. Alex Alexander. Get it? A-squared.”
Jenna was frustrated. “Okay. A-squared, your son is concerned because you implied you know who murdered Melody.”
“Yep.”
“You need to tell the police. This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” she said.
He smiled. “I’ll be happy to tell the police everything.” He paused and leaned forward. “But there has to be somethin’ in it for me.”
“Mr. . . . ah, A-squared. If you know who killed Melody Hardwick, you need to tell someone. It’s illegal to withhold information about a felony.”
He shook himself. “Oooh, I’m shakin’ in my boots. What’re they gonna do, arrest me?”
“The police are not going to pay you to tell them who killed Melody Hardwick. What they’re going to do is throw your butt in jail and leave you there.”
“Won’t be the first time.” He stretched. “Three hots and a cot.”
Jenna’s face could be very expressive. She stared at me with a “can you believe this idiot” look.
I tried to get through to him. “You have to see this is a dangerous business you’re playing at. There’s a killer out there who thinks you know who he or she is. You could be in danger.”
“I can take care of myself. Been doin’ it my whole life.”
“The police believe Dawson killed her. If you don’t tell them what you know, he could get convicted for murder.” I doubted he possessed any parental emotions, especially considering how he’d beaten Dawson, but he was definitely concerned about money. “And, if he’s convicted for murder, there goes all hope of a professional football career.”
He shook his head. “Never happen. I’ll never let my boy get hooked for a crime he didn’t commit. That’s why I went on TV. Besides, he’s got you.” He pointed toward Jenna. “It’s your job to get him off.”
Jenna stared at him as though she’d like nothing better than to leap over that table and throttle him. Instead she said, “Even the best lawyers can’t guarantee an acquittal.”
“He’s not goin’ to jail.” He tapped his chest. “I got a plan that’ll set us up for the rest of our lives.”
Jenna narrowed her eyes. “I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean.”
He laughed. “No idea what you’re talkin’ ’bout, but I think we’re done with this little talk.” He stood.
“Don’t you want to know how your son is doing?” I asked.
A-squared turned to face me and grinned. “How could he be anything but great with you two lookin’ after him. Besides, you would a told me if he weren’t okay.”
Jenna buzzed for the police and they came promptly and removed A-squared.
We sat for several moments and stared at each other. Then we spontaneously burst into laughter.
“If I hadn’t seen this with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it,” Jenna said.
“He’s like a ca
ricature of a real human being.”
“That’s why I wanted you here. I’m an attorney and I’ve dealt with some real lowlifes over the years. But this guy takes the cake.” She paused. “Let’s get out of here.”
We left the police station and went to a nearby coffee shop. Jenna needed a tea refill. We sat at a small table near the window and picked up our conversation where we’d left off.
“I’ve been thinking about why A-squared bothers me so much. I think this whole thing bothers me more because of Dawson.”
“I know what you mean. It’s different when you know the people personally.”
She nodded. “I can distance myself from my clients, but this is very different. Dawson is practically family. Heck, he is family.”
I allowed myself a moment of misty-eyed sentimentality and then my phone buzzed. It was a text message from Jillian informing me she had coordinated a memorial service for Melody for tomorrow.
I told Jenna about the memorial service and immediately received another text. This one was from Emma. She’d received a text from a woman named Cassidy Logan claiming to be Melody’s half sister.
I read the text to Jenna.
“Half sister? Nana Jo didn’t mention anything about a half sister.”
“I know. I don’t think Emma should meet with anyone alone. I’m going to tell her to hold off before responding.” I typed the response and received an Okay.
“This is odd. I don’t—”
My phone vibrated again.
“You’re awfully popular,” Jenna said.
I looked at my phone and my heart skipped a beat. “I totally forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
I paused and took a deep breath before responding. “I forgot I agreed to meet someone.”
I’m not sure if it was the blood I could feel rushing up my neck or the fact I was struggling to make eye contact that gave me away.
“Who did you agree to meet?” Jenna asked with a smirk.
“Just a professor I met on campus yesterday.” I hurried to add, “He was one of Melody’s professors, and I questioned him about her. He’s British. So, I thought maybe he could help me with some of the details for my book. It’s always good if I can add real details,” I babbled.
