Murder at Blackburn Hall

by Sara Rosett

  Footsteps sounded, and my heart kicked. Was Longly returning to arrest me? But it was only Serena who walked past the door then backtracked when she caught sight of me. “There you are. We should leave soon.”

  I gave myself a mental shake as I registered that Serena was in golf clothes. “Um . . . yes.” I’d completely forgotten about our plans. Golfing was the last thing I wanted to do. But a good houseguest doesn’t abandon plans once one has committed to them. I’d have to mull things over on the course. “I need to make a telephone call and change clothes.”

  “Let’s meet in the hall in a quarter of an hour.”

  “We’ll start on the back nine today,” Serena said as we marched across the grass away from the clubhouse. “I thought we’d play nine holes. That’ll give you a little introduction to the game and let me get back to work this afternoon.”

  My bag of borrowed golf clubs bumped against my hip with every step. “Good idea.” Sun beamed down on us from a sky that was a broad swath of unbroken blue. It was a warm, lovely day.

  I’d telephoned Uncle Leo and explained I needed a solicitor. Ringing him gave me a twisty, sick feeling. I hated to ask for help, but I had no money to pay for a solicitor and neither did Father. After the chat with Longly, it seemed to be a good idea to at least contact someone, and Uncle Leo was the only person I trusted to put me in touch with someone reliable.

  As we strode across the grass, I was actually glad I was on the course with Serena. There was nothing more I could do at Blackburn Hall. Not one of my ideas had panned out. If Mayhew’s death really was an accident—and I still couldn’t quite make myself believe that was the case—then all my running around asking questions had been completely useless. I’d wasted a massive amount of time and mental energy. Getting out in the sunshine and walking around the golf course until I was exhausted was probably the best thing I could do. It would keep my mind off my other troubles, namely being a possible murder suspect.

  It was a quiet morning on the course, and it was only Serena and I playing together. Serena hit a beautiful drive down the middle of the course from the tee box. She waved for me to take her place. “Go ahead. Do it like we practiced, and don’t think about it too much.”

  Serena had shown me the basics of how to swing at the golf ball before we set off on the course. For my first attempt, I positioned my feet apart and put the club behind the ball. I blew out a steadying breath, drew back the club, and whacked the ball. It sailed through the air. Unfortunately, it didn’t go down the middle of the green. It ended up far off the course in the rough.

  “Excellent,” Serena said.

  I dropped my arms, letting the club head fall to the ground. “If that was good, then I have several misconceptions about the game of golf.”

  “Nonsense. You did fine. I knew you wouldn’t be one of those halfhearted, tentative players. Much better to get in there and give it a good thwack. Let’s go find your ball. It’s not too far off the fairway.”

  My ball was buried in a thick tuft of grass, but with Serena’s coaching on how to approach the shot, I hit the ball back onto the fairway and completed the hole. I found putting to be much more challenging than driving off the tee. I finally managed to tap my ball into the hole and reached down to retrieve it. “At this rate, my score will be astronomical. Good thing we’re only playing nine holes.”

  Serena lined up and tapped her ball in with ease. “No worries. You’re learning, so the score doesn’t really matter.” She plucked her golf ball from the cup, and we moved on to the eleventh. I missed the fairway again. When I finally got in range of the hole, the ball was about forty yards short of the green.

  “So what do I do here?” I asked as I approached the ball. “It’s too far away to putt, but if I use a driver, I’ll go far past the hole.”

  Serena selected a club with an open face. “Keep your backswing short and hinge your wrists.” Serena demonstrated how to angle my wrists upward during the shortened backswing. “Then be aggressive in the downswing and hit it sharply.”

  I imitated Serena’s motions. The ball lofted through the air, dropped onto the green, and rolled almost to the edge of the hole. “It worked!”

  “Of course it worked. You’re a natural,” Serena said.

  “Beginner’s luck, more likely,” I said as we moved on to the twelfth. Instead of connecting with the ball squarely, I hit the top of it. My drive dribbled down the course. “At least I’m in the fairway this time.” Serena laughed and teed off, sending her ball sailing far beyond mine. As we set off down the fairway, a gap in the trees drew my attention. I could see across the river to the path that ran along the grounds of Blackburn Hall. I slowed my steps. “Is this where you saw Mayhew walking on the path?”

  Serena nodded and pointed with a club. “Right through that break in the trees. I saw a slash of red—the tie, you know. That’s what caught my eye.”

  The distance wasn’t that great. I could see how she would be able to spot someone on the path.

  Serena said, “Mayhew gave me a jaunty little wave.”

  “Did she usually do that?” From everything I’d heard, Mayhew avoided people.

  “No, but I suppose it was just a friendly gesture. After all, there was no way we could stop and talk, not with the river between us.” Serena wiped a bit of grass from the head of her golf club before she returned it to her bag. “Our foursome walked on, and we didn’t hear the bank collapse. Probably because the wind was so high that day. Quite a noisy thing, wind.”

  I stopped walking. “How did you say Mayhew waved?”

  “Just a lift of a hand. She was holding her hat with the other hand.” Serena demonstrated, lifting her left hand in a single motion, then she let it drop back to her side. “It was a blustery day. We fought the wind all day.” She shook her head. “It’s terrible when I think about it. We were so focused on correcting for the strong wind, and a person was injured and dying on the other side of the river. We didn’t know a thing about it.”

  I was barely listening to Serena. I was lost in my own churning thoughts.

  “Olive?”

  I blinked and realized Serena must have been walking as she spoke. I hadn’t moved from the spot where I’d stopped.

  “What is it?” Serena asked.

  “Nothing. Sorry.” I hurried to catch up with her.

  We finished the hole, and Serena recorded our scores, her head bent. “It’s interesting to play the course backward, as it were. Starting on the back nine gives it a whole new perspective.”

  Her words penetrated my fuzzy thoughts, then reverberated in my mind. “That’s it,” I said to myself. “I’ve been looking at it all wrong. I’ve been looking at it backward.”

  Serena looked up from the scoring card. “What did you say?”

  “Just talking to myself. Sorry.”

  She put the card away and headed down the path to the next tee. “Don’t be. I do it all the time. It’s an excellent way to work out your thoughts.”

  I hurried to catch up with her, my thoughts spinning. “Yes, it is.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  My mind was not on golf for the rest of the game. We completed our nine holes, had a quick lunch at the clubhouse, and then Serena decided to stay on and work on her putting. I couldn’t imagine she needed improvement in that area. She’d sunk every putt within two or three strokes, but she insisted her long putts were not as consistent as she’d like. I returned to Blackburn Hall, still mulling over what I’d discovered about Mayhew.

  Bower opened the door for me. “Hello, Miss Belgrave. Did you enjoy your golf game?”

  “Yes. I found it to be very productive.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Will Miss Serena be returning soon?”

  “No, she stayed on to work on her putting.”

  Bower said, “Very good. You may leave the clubs here.” He glanced at a footman, who was walking across the hall. The footman changed course and took the clubs from me. “Mr. Rimington arrived a sho
rt while ago,” Bower continued. “Shall I inform him that you have returned?”

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll speak to him myself.”

  “He’s in the library.”

  Jasper sat in one of the chairs by the window, but only his well-tailored trousers and perfectly polished shoes were visible. The upper half of his body was hidden behind an open newspaper.

  “Hello, Jasper. Don’t let Lady Holt see you reading that. She has a phobia about the newspapers.”

  Jasper folded the paper. “Oh, I don’t think she’d mind me reading about Mr. Carter’s lecture to the Royal Geographical Society on King Tut’s tomb. He predicts crowns and regalia still to be discovered, by the way. Surely Lady Holt wouldn’t object to that. No local scandal reported.”

  “I wouldn’t risk it. She’s rabid about the newspapers. It’s odd, though. Her etiquette column runs in a newspaper.”

  “I suppose she considers everything else besides her column disgraceful. No worries, I’ll dispose of the evidence shortly. How was golf?”

  “Surprisingly illuminating.”

  “I’ve heard golf described quite a few different ways but never like that. By the way, I just encountered Zippy a short time ago. It seems he made it home unscathed last night.”

  I perched on the arm of a chair. “I heard him whistling on his way back to his room during the early hours of this morning. How is he today?”

  “He’s sworn off drink forever. I expect that to last for”—Jasper checked his wristwatch—“a few more hours. Until cocktail hour tonight.”

  “You’re probably right. You can call off Grigsby, by the way.”

  “Found out the information on your own?”

  “In a way. Inspector Longly came to visit me this morning. I told him our suspicions. He informed me Lady Holt as well as Bower and the rest of the staff have alibis for the morning of Mayhew’s death.”

  Jasper’s eyebrows went up. “He came here to discuss the case with you?”

  “No. He wanted to warn me to engage a solicitor. It appears there will be an arrest soon. And I have the distinct feeling it will be me.”

  Jasper turned sharply to me. “And you spent the afternoon golfing?”

  “I telephoned Uncle Leo. He’s engaging a solicitor for me. But I don’t think I’ll need him.” I slid off the arm of the chair. I was too excited to sit still. I walked to a table by the windows with a chessboard, the pieces lined up on each side of the board.

  “You’ve solved the case?” Jasper asked.

  I tilted my head to the left and right. “Maybe. I do think I’m finally on the right track.” I picked up the black knight and moved it up two squares, then over one. “Serena and I played the back nine today. When we came to the hole where Serena spotted Mayhew, we talked about what she saw. And then she made a comment about playing the course backward—starting on the tenth instead of the first—and it all came together.”

  Jasper came over and leaned on the back of the chair across the table from me. “I know you’re speaking English—I recognize the words—but you’re not making sense.”

  “I’m about to explain it all. I think I’ve worked it out. I’ve been looking at it all wrong—backward. It’s actually quite simple. Serena didn’t see Mayhew on the path.”

  Jasper had leaned forward and was moving a white pawn up two spaces. He looked up at me, his hand still on the pawn. “What do you mean? Is it too far to see someone clearly?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s perfectly possible to see someone. It’s not the distance that’s the issue. The point is Serena didn’t see Mayhew.”

  Jasper removed his hand from the pawn, crossed his arms, and leaned on the back of the chair. “How can you know that?”

  “When Mayhew’s body was discovered, Serena told Calder she saw a man in a tweed jacket and a hat from the golf course. Today she said it was extremely windy that day. Mayhew was holding her hat with one hand while she waved to Serena with the other.” I bounced on my toes. “Do you see? It couldn’t have been Mayhew.”

  “I wish I could say I’m only playing the part of the rather dim sidekick to humor you, but I really don’t see what you’re getting at.”

  I picked up the knight, knocked over Jasper’s pawn, and set the knight on that square. “The person Serena saw didn’t have a suitcase.”

  Jasper’s eyebrows flared. “Ah, yes. That does make all the difference.”

  “I knew you’d understand as soon as I described it.” I put the pawn to one side of the board. “Serena demonstrated what ‘Mayhew’ did.” I pressed my right hand to my head and lifted my left hand in a quick wave.

  “So where was the suitcase?” Jasper asked, the excitement in his words matching mine.

  “Exactly. One was found with the body.”

  “Could Serena be lying?”

  “She was with a group of golfers.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Jasper said. “At the inquest, Longly said the other golfers’ testimony agreed with Serena’s.”

  “You see what this means, don’t you?” I leaned over the chessboard and lowered my voice. “It’s most likely Mayhew was already dead at that point.”

  “And someone had dressed as Mayhew and appeared in public to confuse the timeline.”

  “Exactly. Anna said the postmortem estimated the time of death at five to seven days before Mayhew’s body was discovered. Seven days before would be Tuesday, which was the day before Serena saw the imposter, so I think Mayhew must have been killed Tuesday, probably during the night, either at East Bank Cottage or during one of his nighttime strolls. Mayhew liked to go out at night, probably because she could roam in the darkness without wearing her mask.”

  “I suppose the bit about it happening at night is logical. You wouldn’t want to be carting a body around during the day,” Jasper said.

  “And why would you imitate Mayhew if she were still alive? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Tuesday night, you think?” Jasper spoke slowly, testing the idea.

  “And while it was dark, the murderer must have packed a suitcase for Mayhew to make it look as if Mayhew had left. The murderer dumped Mayhew’s body over the edge of the riverbank at its weakest point and pitched the suitcase after the body. Then, either the bank collapsed and covered Mayhew, or the murderer helped it along, making sure the falling earth covered Mayhew’s body. The murderer returned to Mayhew’s cottage, typed up the notes, including the one to Anna, so Mayhew’s disappearance wouldn’t be noted straightaway. Once it was daylight on Wednesday, he—or she—put on one of Mayhew’s tweed jackets and walked the path, making sure to draw the attention of a golfing party so ‘Mayhew’ would be seen that morning, establishing she was alive. It was far enough away that someone would recognize the clothes but not close enough to see the person’s face well.”

  “Quite a thorough sort.”

  “Scarily so. I think the murderer even remembered to replicate Mayhew’s bright tie. Serena said when she saw Mayhew on the path that morning, it was the red tie that drew her attention—a slash of red—those were her exact words, which makes me wonder . . . where was Mayhew’s pocket square? She should have seen two bright splashes of red, not one. Several people mentioned Mayhew always wore a tie and matching pocket square in bright colors.”

  “It could have slipped down inside the pocket.” Jasper demonstrated, pushing his tasteful cream-colored pocket square down so it wasn’t visible.

  “Oh, don’t do that. Grigsby will have heart palpitations if he sees you like that.” I plucked it out and repositioned it.

  “Indeed.” Jasper checked the alignment of the pocket square and made a minor adjustment.

  I crossed my arms and leaned against the chair by the chess set. “Or it could have been taken out of Mayhew’s pocket before the murderer pitched Mayhew into the riverbed. Later, after the notes were typed, the murderer folded the red pocket square lengthwise and fixed it so that from a distance it would look like a tie. When Mayhew’s body
was discovered, I only saw a tie, not a pocket square.”

  Jasper frowned. “It could have been lost at some point, though. Perhaps the water swept it away.”

  “Perhaps. But there’s still the suitcase. Mayhew was found with a suitcase, but the person Serena saw wasn’t carrying a suitcase. The murderer must have packed Mayhew’s suitcase so it would look as if Mayhew intended to travel, but once the suitcase was tipped over the edge of the bank, there wasn’t another suitcase handy for the masquerade by the river. The murderer must have hoped no one would realize the suitcase was missing from the sighting. Or perhaps it was such a convoluted plan, they didn’t realize the mistake.”

  Jasper said, “It’s possible, but what’s the connection between Mayhew’s death and Pearce’s? Why was Mayhew killed?”

  “This is where the backward bit comes in. Who had a severe accident shortly before Mayhew died?”

  “The local solicitor. But you think it wasn’t an accident,” Jasper said, spacing his words apart.

  “Right.” I dropped into the chair. “I’ve been looking at everything backward. I thought Mayhew’s death was the first incident in a chain of events that led to Pearce’s death. But what if Pearce’s death was in the works from the beginning? What if Pearce’s fall—or botched attempt to kill Pearce by pushing him down the stairs—was the start of the chain, not the end?”

  Jasper gave me a long look, then said, “And you think Mayhew somehow got mixed up in that?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “What if Mayhew knew something or saw something about a plan to kill Pearce?”

  Jasper eased into the chair across from me. “Then our murderer would want Mayhew out of the way. Although, Mayhew wasn’t exactly the chatty type.”

  “But if you planned to murder Pearce, you wouldn’t want someone around who might inform the police of your plan. Or if you succeeded in killing Pearce, you wouldn’t want someone to tell the police you’d thought about doing away with Pearce. You wouldn’t—couldn’t—take that chance.”

  “I wouldn’t plan to murder anyone in the first place,” Jasper said, then turned serious as he gazed at the chessboard. “Your theory does turn everything on its head.”