Read Herring Hunt

by V. M. Burns

  “Thank God,” Lord William said.

  “But if it wasn’t one of our guns, then whose gun was it?” Lady Elizabeth asked.

  “No idea. The constables were pulled off the case before they could search the place,” Victor said.

  “We could search for it,” Penelope said.

  “I’m afraid that gun will be long gone by now, dear,” Lord William said.

  “Agreed. I think it unlikely the killer would risk hanging onto the murder weapon.” Lady Elizabeth shook her head. “Pity we didn’t think to have the guests searched sooner. But there might be something. . . Yes, we might be able to find out who had a gun before the killing and doesn’t have one now.” She knitted for a few moments. “I’ll have a word with Thompkins about it. Now, Daphne, were you able to make any progress on your assignment?”

  Daphne walked over to her aunt, who was sitting in a chair next to her husband’s bedside. Daphne stood in between her aunt and uncle and opened her drawing pad.

  The others gathered close for a better view.

  “I worked out who was where during the shoot.” She pointed at the sketch pad, which had a timeline and circles indicating who was in each group at what time. “Józef Lipski and Virginia Hall are the only ones who are completely unaccounted for at the time the maid was shot.”

  They stared at the sketch pad and asked a few questions, which Daphne answered.

  “Daphne, that’s wonderful. You did a tremendous job.” Lady Elizabeth smiled at her niece.

  Everyone congratulated Daphne. The only person who seemed less than pleased was James. In a brooding silence, he walked to the window and stared out.

  “James?” Lady Elizabeth asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” James shook himself. “Virginia Hall is beyond reproach. I know she didn’t kill that maid.”

  Daphne sniffed.

  “How can you be sure?” Lady Elizabeth stared at James.

  “I just know. I need you to trust me.”

  They looked at each other, everyone except Daphne, who refused to make eye contact.

  “Well, of course we trust you,” Lady Elizabeth said. “But can you tell us why you’re so sure?”

  James stared at Daphne as though willing her to make eye contact, but she merely folded up her sketch pad and returned to her seat by the window. James shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t at the moment, but I promise I’ll explain soon.”

  “Well, if Miss Hall is out, that just leaves Lipski,” Victor said.

  The group agreed that Victor and James would question Józef Lipski immediately following tea.

  James released a heavy sigh.

  “What’s the matter?” Penelope asked.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking about what this will mean if it turns out Józef Lipski is indeed the murderer.” James looked out the window for several minutes. “This incident could be twisted to justify German aggression toward the Pols and more German expansion in Europe. No one wants another war with Germany, but we won’t be able to avoid it forever.”

  Everyone stared in shocked silence.

  “You think war is inevitable?” Victor asked softly.

  James nodded. “I do, and I’m not alone. Other prominent people believe Poland is critical in this political chess game Germany’s playing.”

  Lord William puffed on his pipe. “Dash it all. I hope it doesn’t come to that. I hope you’re wrong. If it does, well . . . we beat the krauts once, we can do it again.”

  James lowered his head. “The last war took a terrible toll on England and her allies. A lot has changed since the Treaty of Versailles. Advancements. Advance ments in weapons, airplanes, and submarines. Germany’s stronger now.” His eyes lingered on Daphne. “This could be the match that lights the flame of war. And once that flame is lit, England will never be the same.”

  Chapter 19

  The fact I had yet to go to bed did not prevent Oreo from needing to go potty at three thirty in the morning. Sure, I’d let him out just two hours earlier when I got home, but his biological clock was set. Snickers rolled her eyes and growled when I suggested she join us. I couldn’t say I blamed her, so I let her sleep in peace.

  This time I was tired enough to sleep. I must have slept through my alarm clock because the next thing I remembered was an eight-pound weight landing on my chest. Snickers was fourteen, and I’ve had her since she was six weeks old. You’d think by now I would have learned not to open my mouth. Unfortunately, I was a slow learner.

  “Eww.” I rolled over and dislodged the poodle who’d just stuck her tongue in my mouth. I used the blanket to wipe out my mouth.

  Snickers simply jumped off the bed and sat by my bedroom door.

  I glared at her. “Do you know what time it is?”

  She yawned, stretched, and then began to lick herself.

  Just when I thought nothing could make me feel dirtier than I did already. I put a pillow over my head and contemplated ignoring her, but my bladder wouldn’t cooperate. I stretched and then got up.

  I let the poodles out and then took care of business. By the time I got out of the shower, I got a whiff of my two favorite smells, coffee and bacon. My nana was my hero.

  The day went by relatively quickly. We had a steady stream of customers and I didn’t have much time to think about Virgil, A-squared, or Melody. Just before closing, Frank Patterson stopped by.

  “Frank, what a pleasant surprise,” Nana Jo said in a voice that sounded like she wasn’t the least bit surprised.

  I should have guessed she was up to something when I noticed the goofy smile on her face when she came back from lunch.

  “Finish all those books already?” I asked.

  “Not yet. I was wondering if maybe you’d be free for dinner.”

  I smiled. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I can’t. Tonight I’ll be hanging out with the girls. It’s ladies’ night.”

  “Pishposh,” Nana Jo interrupted. “Why don’t you join us at the casino tonight?”

  I stared at Nana Jo.

  Frank Patterson intercepted the look. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “You won’t be interrupting at all,” Nana Jo said. “Meet us at the Four Feathers Casino at eight.”

  “If you’re sure it’s okay.” Frank looked at me.

  I smiled. “Of course it’s alright. Why don’t you meet us in the lobby in front of the large fireplace?”

  Frank agreed and left.

  I stared at Nana Jo, who seemed intent on dusting a bookshelf. “Why do I suspect you arranged that?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She turned to face me. “But if you didn’t want him to come, you could have said something.”

  I smiled. “You’re incorrigible.”

  Tuesdays was ladies’ day at a lot of local shops. The girls liked to stock up on paper towels, vitamins, and whatever else they could get at bargain prices. I normally would have gotten a half-priced oil change and car wash, but since I’d just bought my car yesterday, I wouldn’t need to take advantage of that discount yet. We often dined at Randy’s Steak House on Tuesday and then hit the bars for half-priced drinks. However, in light of my recent windfall, the girls were anxious to try their luck at the casino.

  The girls were surprised and gushed appropriately at my new wheels. The hands-free back door was a huge help when loading up after a day of ladies’ day shopping.

  “We’re ridin’ in style now,” Ruby Mae said.

  On the ride to the casino, we filled the girls in on the latest from Dawson and Virgil Russell.

  Irma still doubted Virgil’s guilt, but the others felt he was the most likely suspect.

  I dropped the girls at the front of the casino and then drove to the back of the parking garage. I parked as far away from potential scratches as possible. When I arrived in the lobby, Frank Patterson was waiting. He had a single rose, which made me smile.

  “Where’s Nana Jo?”

  “They said they’d get
a table.”

  Frank had on a pair of dark wash jeans and a sweater. He looked freshly groomed and smelled of shampoo. I liked that he wasn’t wearing cologne.

  I was wearing one of my outlet mall finds, a silk blouse and bright red cardigan with jeans.

  We walked to the buffet and I looked around until I spotted them. They were sitting at a small booth that could only hold four comfortably. The hostess was talking, but I was so surprised, I didn’t hear a word she said. I made a beeline to their booth and stood looking at them.

  Dorothy and Ruby Mae hopped up and hurried to the buffet. Irma said she needed a drink and flagged down a waiter. Nana Jo was suddenly really thirsty and drank an entire glass of water.

  “Well?” I stared at my grandmother.

  “Sorry, dear, they didn’t have any larger tables. I guess you two will have to find a table alone.”

  I looked around at all of the empty tables and booths, which were clearly large enough for all six of us.

  The hostess followed us and was at my side when I turned around.

  “Come on.” I followed the young girl to a table for two in a corner.

  Once we were seated and beverage orders taken, I looked across at Frank.

  His lips twitched and he did his best to hide a smile. Eventually, our eyes met and we both burst into laughter.

  “Your grandmother is an exceptional woman.”

  “If by exceptional you mean meddling busybody, then you’re right.”

  We filled our plates at the buffet and talked for hours. I was surprised at how much we had in common. There wasn’t an awkward moment. Frank had a knack for telling interesting stories. He’d retired from the military earlier this year and was living his dream of living in one place and running a bar. “Kind of like Cheers, a place where everyone knows your name.”

  It usually took a while before I opened up and shared about my personal life, but Frank was easy to talk to and he listened. He seemed interested in everything from Leon to Oreo and Snickers to Dawson.

  “Your grandmother told me about your investigation. I’d like to help if I can.”

  I stared. “I’m not sure how you can. It looks like the police might have their killer.” I shared what I knew about Virgil Russell and the incident at the hospital. Frank asked who knew about A-squared’s accident and which hospital he was in.

  “I have some friends who are very connected. Would you mind if I asked them to look up some of the names you gave me?”

  “Of course not.”

  We talked about Melody being a grifter, the special program she was in, her sister Cassidy, Virgil, and the mysterious person Melody thought was trying to muscle in on her mark.

  “And you said Virgil mentioned he knew Melody had other lovers?”

  I stared. “You think the person who was trying to muscle in on her mark was her lover?”

  Frank shrugged. “Beats me. But it seems odd. She didn’t make many friends, not even with her roommate. How else would someone get close enough to her to find out about her scam?”

  “That makes sense.”

  “What makes sense?”

  I looked up.

  Nana Jo was standing by our table. “Are you two still in here?”

  I looked at my watch. “I can’t believe it’s almost midnight. Where’s our bill?”

  Frank smiled. “I’ve already taken care of it.”

  I started to protest, but he simply smiled. “I’m old-fashioned. A gentleman always takes care of the bill.”

  We met the girls in the lobby and I told them I’d get the car and pick them up. I protested, but Frank escorted me to my vehicle and held the door open for me while I got in. He said he’d check with one of his buddies on some of the names I gave him, and he’d have something by tomorrow night.

  I drove to the front of the casino and picked up Nana Jo and the girls, who were surprisingly quiet for the majority of the ride back to the retirement village. I expected a lot of teasing about Frank but was pleasantly amazed when none came.

  Nana Jo stopped in the bookstore and picked up the Agatha Christie book she’d been reading earlier and then went to her room.

  I let the poodles out, but something was nagging at my mind. When I went back upstairs, I got on the computer and tried to focus on the clues. I read an article about free writing, where you tried to turn off your conscious mind and let your subconscious write. However, with my eyes closed, my brain kept picturing Frank Patterson and my hands kept typing Quin and Deering Vale. Perhaps writing would help my subconscious grab hold of the elusive thread.

  Everyone except the Duchess of Windsor and Lord William assembled in the parlor for tea. Count Rudolph and Georges Brasseur stood near the fireplace.

  “I have never come to understand the British obsession with tea,” Brasseur said. “In France we drink wine, or cocoa, but tea . . . it is like drinking dishwater.”

  Lady Elizabeth blushed slightly. “How thoughtless of me. If you would prefer something else, I’ll be more than happy to have the cook prepare you something. I’m sure she has cocoa.”

  Józef Lipski stood near the window. “Ah, but you have not tasted the cocoa until you have tasted Polish cocoa,” he said proudly and puffed out his chest. “It is a special blend.” He pulled a small box from his inside pocket. “Perhaps you would care to try some?”

  Brasseur looked as though nothing would give him less pleasure than to try the Pol’s special blend of cocoa.

  “Thank you so much.” Lady Elizabeth reached out her hand and Lipski brought the container to her.

  She rang a buzzer that summoned the butler.

  “Thompkins, would you please ask Cook to prepare a cup of cocoa for Monsieur Brasseur and . . . Mr. Lipski?”

  Lipski shook his head. “No, I only drink cocoa before bed.”

  Thompkins took the tin and left.

  Lady Elizabeth continued pouring tea for the rest of the guests. Fordham-Baker declined. He was drinking what appeared to be a new bottle of scotch. The only way she could gauge was by noting the current bottle contained more liquid than the one she’d seen him with earlier. If she weren’t trying to keep the maid’s murder out of the newspapers, she would talk to Thompkins about restricting his alcohol. However, in light of the current situation, perhaps she should allow the man to continue drinking.

  Within a relatively short period of time, the butler returned with a steaming hot mug, which he presented to the French diplomat.

  Brasseur accepted the cup and nodded to Lipski. He placed the cup on the fireplace mantle and con tinued talking to Count Rudolph.

  Józef Lipzki’s face turned purple. It was clear Brasseur didn’t intend to drink his cocoa.

  Thompkins walked to Lipski and returned the tin.

  Lipski took the tin and replaced it in his pocket and turned his back to the crowd and walked to the window.

  Count Rudolph, normally very quiet and taciturn, surprised the group by speaking. “Perhaps we can have more music, or is it not acceptable to play music during the British tea?” he asked in a very theatrical manner.

  “Well, certainly, you may have music,” Lady Elizabeth said.

  Count Rudolph followed Daphne to the wireless. When she found a station playing music, he further surprised the group by asking her to waltz.

  Count Rudolph bowed dramatically, clicked his heels, and then took Daphne by the waist and waltzed her around the room.

  Everyone stared in shocked silence. Virginia Hall approached Lipski, who declined dancing.

  The two stood in awkward silence.

  When the dance was over, Rudolph bowed to Daphne and returned to his place next to Brasseur.

  “Ah, Monsieur Brasseur, you have not drunk your Polish cocoa. You will offend Heir Lipski. You must taste it and tell us if the Polish cocoa is superior to that of the French.”

  Brasseur looked as though he would rather drink petrol; however, he picked up his cup and took a sip of the liquid. He pursed his lips and frowned.
Within a few seconds, he was grasping at his throat and gasp ing for air. He fell to his knees and then lay prostrate on the ground.

  James hurried to his side. He loosened his shirt and tie.

  Everyone looked on in stunned silence.

  The French diplomat was seized by convulsions for several seconds. He foamed at the mouth. After one exceptionally violent shake, he lay silent.

  James felt for a pulse. He looked to the crowd which had gathered around. “He’s dead.”

  Chapter 20

  I woke from a dream where James Bond was running from all of Agatha Christie’s protagonists. Harley Quin was leading a pack which included Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple, Tommy and Tuppence, and Parker Pyne through an English village. At the last minute, Captain America, who bore a striking resemblance to Frank Patterson, dropped from a plane and hog-tied James Bond. Apart from confusion, I felt like I’d run a marathon. Given the knot my sheets were in, I guess I had.

  I showered and dressed with care. Tonight I was going on a date with Professor Quin. I had butterflies in the pit of my stomach and considered cancelling. Several times I actually picked up my phone to cancel but stopped myself. Nerves? Fear? Whatever the reason, it was time to put on my big girl panties and face my fears. Just as I made the decision to move forward, I got a call from Harley. His car was in the shop.

  “Would you like to reschedule?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you would pick me up. I have an opportunity to tour Purnell mansion and I’m really keen on going.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  We arranged for me to pick him up around six on campus.

  Nana Jo listened nearby with her lips pursed.

  I couldn’t take the silence anymore. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  I refused to probe deeper and we worked in silence most of the day, ignoring the giant elephant in the room. Between Nana Jo’s silence, a dream that wouldn’t go away, first date insecurity, and the nagging question of whether or not Frank would call, I was a nervous wreck by noon. I had just decided to skip lunch when Frank arrived with a tray.