by Rebecca King
Florrie sighed and crept quietly down the stairs. Even before she left the last few steps of the main staircase she could hear the low rumble of voices coming from the breakfast room. She paused for several moments, uncertain whether she should just creep out of the front door or at least make a brief appearance. She glanced longingly at the front door.
The low gurgle of a baby helped make the decision for her and she slowly crept across the hallway and stole out of the front door. Her heart pounded in her chest and she frantically tried to come up with an excuse for creeping about should the butler or one of the guests happen to catch her.
As it was, she made it out of the door undisturbed. Once outside she sucked in a huge breath of crisp morning air, relieved by her success. She felt slightly guilty that she was being so anti-social but needed to get away from everyone if only for a little while. It wasn’t lost on her that this was likely to be the last big social occasion she would be invited to, especially once she had moved to Norfolk, and a part of her was glad for that. Although Portia had kindly issued an invitation for her to remain for her wedding to Archie, Florrie didn’t think she could bear being around such close, almost familial bonds like those of the Star Elite for too much longer without feeling utterly miserable at being an outsider. She had been glad when her aunt had immediately eschewed the gracious invitation with a vague excuse that they had a previous engagement already back at home and couldn’t get out of it at such short notice.
Florrie knew that her aunt’s reluctance to remain was driven more by her need to gamble; a need that wouldn’t be satisfied stuck out in the middle of nowhere on the Cumbrian border. Still, Florrie couldn’t find it within her to object to returning to Oxfordshire. She wanted to go back to Tabatha’s house, if only so she could make the final few arrangements she needed to make to begin her new life.
The butler had left the door to the sitting room open and it gave the room’s occupants a clear view of the main hallway. Archie frowned and sat perfectly still in his chair while Florrie clearly debated whether to join the others in the breakfast room or head out of the front door. The furtive way she had crept toward the front door had warned both Pie and Archie that she had something to hide.
“What do you think that was about?” Archie murmured and craned his neck around Pie to catch sight of Florrie walking across the lawns.
Pie stood and moved toward the window to watch her. “I don’t know, but the lady has secrets. Did you catch sight of the man in the crowd yesterday?”
Archie moved to stand beside his colleague and nodded. “Yes, so did Simon. Nobody knew him and we are certain he isn’t local but his appearance clearly frightened both of the ladies.”
“Do you think that is where she is headed now? To meet him?” Pie hated the thought that she was sneaking about for a clandestine assignation with a secret lover and felt a startling surge of jealousy come out of nowhere. It hit him with such force that he scowled deeply at her retreating back.
“I don’t know,” Archie sighed and glanced at Pie who was already moving toward the door. “Let’s go and find out, shall we?” He didn’t need to say anything more. Pie was already half way across the hall.
Florrie was lost in thought. She stood on the edge of a small wood and briefly contemplated the narrow winding path that led deeper into the thick foliage. Glancing down at her clean dress and the rain clouds hovering above, she slowly turned and made her way down the stone path that she had taken to the church yesterday. She glanced at the wonderful landscaped gardens around her and caught sight of two ladies strolling through the rose garden to the right. It was Portia and Harriett. Florrie paused for a moment and knew that if she crossed paths with them she would be obliged to accompany them on their walk if they invited her. Right now though, she wanted a few minutes outside to herself, away from her aunt’s dogged persistence and away from curious stares and the strange sense of disquiet that seemed to have settled over her.
Florrie quickly turned down the driveway leading away from the house. Keeping to the pathway, she slowly made her way toward the church. It wasn’t that she really wanted to go to church, but it was probably the only place she could go where she could be alone for a while. Right now, she desperately needed to think.
She hadn’t lost sight of just how determined her aunt had been last night to get a few minutes alone with her. Tabatha had tried, and failed on more than one occasion to come up with any reason to get a quiet word with Florrie, all of which Florrie had successfully blocked. She knew that the curiosity of the other women in the drawing room had been raised, but she had merely smiled obliquely at them, unprepared to explain her behaviour to any of them. After all, it wasn’t as if any of them were going to be acquaintances in the future. They all had very different futures ahead of them and the likelihood of their paths ever crossing by chance was extremely remote.
Florrie knew that this morning her aunt would be even more determined to get a few minutes alone with her niece and less inclined to be fobbed off. Last night, Tabatha had been on the verge of being argumentative and challenging. Florrie had only just managed to avoid a public spectacle but the last thing she wanted to do was get involved in any of her aunt’s machinations. She had done enough to try to protect her aunt, but had now run out of excuses, and willingness, to help her. Without having cross words with her aunt, there was very little she could do. Although there was not really much love lost between the two women, she didn’t want to part company with Tabatha on a sour note, especially given that her aunt and uncle had given Florrie a home when she had so desperately needed one.
She will be angry anyway when she knows you are going to leave her alone, a small voice warned her, but she quickly blocked it out. Nothing, and nobody, was going to stop her from spending the rest of her life in peaceful tranquillity, not even her aunt.
She slowly made her way toward the small stone structure on the edge of the Melvedere estate. Staring down at the ground while she walked, she was busy thinking about the small cottage she was going to call home, and wondered whether she should send a note to her uncle Silas to find out how the repairs were going and whether the house would be ready in time for her arrival.
“What on earth?” She froze and stared at the legs that lay before her on the narrow stone pathway. She glanced quickly around and studied the area, but there was nobody else around. Easing forward, she swallowed harshly. Part of her wanted to run, all the way back to Crompton to summon the others, but logic warned her that the man might be hurt. He might need help. She would be no help to him if she ran away.
Grab a hold of yourself, Florrie, she sternly warned herself, and cautiously edged forward. Every nerve was stretched taught. She peered cautiously around the gravestone that blocked her view of the rest of the man and gasped.
The once white shirt was liberally soaked in blood; red blood that was still oozing from the holes in his chest. She studied his pale face, but it didn’t look familiar. Who was he? Where had he come from? Her initial thought was, what on earth could he have been doing that would cause him such injuries? But then logic took a hold and she realised that he had not done this to himself. Someone had done it to him.
Her suspicions were proven correct when her stunned gaze landed on the wicked looking blade that lay further along the path that ran around the outside of the church. She glanced around her again but couldn’t see anybody hiding behind any of the gravestones, or in the trees. She was all alone; except for the man at her feet. She knew she had to check if the man was still breathing, but hesitated to go near him.
Swallowing repeatedly did little to quell the churning in her stomach but, nevertheless, she took a deep, fortifying breath and edged closer. The morning suddenly didn’t seem as bright and appealing as it had a few moments earlier, but was that because of the rain clouds that were hovering threateningly above? Or, was it because of the sudden tension that thrummed through her?
She moved to stand next to the man’s shoulder and
hesitantly placed a hand on his chest in between two blooded holes and the worst of the red staining. Her nose wrinkled as her fingers met with the oozing gloop anyway. Bile lodged in her throat. Her hand trembled as it lay on the unmoving chest. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or horrified at the thought that he was dead yet still warm. She rose to her feet and shifted to one side. The tinkling of something on the floor caught her attention and she glanced down at the knife again. She knew it had been the weapon that had taken the man’s life and stared down at it for a moment before she bent and picked it up. She stared blankly at her hands, and felt the world swirl alarmingly around her.
Her gaze locked on the wicked looking object in her fingers. The handle of the blade was intricately carved with what looked like a silver viper twisted coiled around what looked like a wooden handle. The metalwork was flawless but it was the serrated edge of the blade that made bile surge afresh and she wondered if she was going to be sick.
“Stand perfectly still,” Pie warned, staring hard at the woman before him. He was aware of Archie moving through the gravestones to come up on Florrie’s other side, but his eyes never left her. He daren’t break his gaze. The disappointment within him was so strong that he fought the urge to thump the church wall behind her. His eyes flicked to Archie’s long enough for him to catch Archie’s nod before he disappeared around the side of the church to begin a thorough search of the churchyard.
Florrie jumped at the sound of his voice directly before her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. She was mesmerised and horrified at the sight of the blood on her hands. It oozed sickeningly between her fingers. She glanced up at the forbidding face of Pie but couldn’t think. She didn’t know what to do, how to explain.
“He is dead,” she whispered, glancing down at the body at her feet. “How?” Nothing seemed to make any sense. She was vaguely aware of Pie moving to stand beside her and made no protest as he eased the blade out of her hand.
Pie studied her face. She was clearly in shock, but was that because she had just killed a man?
She turned to look blankly at Pie only to catch sight of Archie moving toward them from the side of the church.
He shook his head at Pie. “Nothing.”
Archie bent down and placed his hand on the body at their feet.
“Dead.”
Both men stared at Florrie who looked back at them blankly. Neither man was accusing her, but it was clear that they were waiting for something.
Alarm rose within her as she realised they were waiting for an explanation.
CHAPTER THREE
“You can’t think that I had anything to do with this?” She waved a hand down at the man at their feet and glanced at the mess on her hands and dress. It seemed to be everywhere. She fought the wave of hysteria that threatened and turned horrified eyes back toward Pie and Archie.
“Tell us what happened.” It wasn’t a question. Pie’s face was as grave as his voice and he struggled to shake out of her what he wanted - needed to know.
“I just came, and he was here,” Florrie replied blankly. It was the truth. “He -” She was at a loss to know what to say next. Were they going to send her to jail? She hadn’t done anything wrong. But this was the Star Elite; a government organisation who worked for the good of the country. They had a duty to uphold and had to carry out their duties to the letter. Despite her shock, it wasn’t lost on her that she was now under suspicion of killing the man lying at her feet.
“I didn’t do it.” She glanced frantically from Pie to Archie but found little sympathy in either man’s face. Both of them looked cold and hard, and she knew she would find little understanding there. “I didn’t kill him,” she cried frantically, her eyes pleading with both of them. “It wasn’t me.”
“Do you know him?” Pie’s voice was ruthless. He struggled with the urge to sweep her into his arms, but right now didn’t know what to think. He and Archie had caught her red-handed. He winced at the mental analogy. She was indeed red handed. Digging into his pocket, he handed her a handkerchief and watched as she took it from him but, rather than wipe the blood away, she stared down at her hands blankly, as though she wasn’t sure what to do with the cloth or her hands.
She shook her head slowly. She had never seen the man before in her life.
“Do you know of anyone who would be in this area for nefarious purposes?”
He watched as Florrie physically flinched and looked off into the distance as though lost in thought.
Florrie felt the weight of their doubt settle on her shoulders and lapsed into silence. She didn’t know how to answer that question. Her thoughts turned toward Arnold Dexter. He wasn’t responsible for this surely? She didn’t know the man at her feet and had certainly never seen him in Dexter’s company. Dexter had followed them to Melvedere merely to get the large sum of money he was owed back from Tabatha, but Florrie couldn’t discount the possibility that the man at her feet had himself crossed Dexter. After all, the owner of the gambling house had been rather sinister in his threats of late, and had threatened to do ‘whatever was necessary’ to ensure his money was returned. But did that mean murdering someone? Was the man at their feet someone who had owed Dexter money? The possibility of that seemed extremely remote but, had the dead man been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Had he been in the churchyard for some other reason but stumbled upon Dexter who was waiting for Tabatha to deliver the first of the repayments?
“Florrie?”
Her attention snapped back to Archie who shifted impatiently before her.
“I am sorry, what did you say?” She was filled with dread that they would continue to probe into matters that weren’t hers to discuss. “I have no idea who he is,” she whispered, turning her gaze away from the corpse.
“I think you had better come with me back to Crompton.” Pie took hold of her elbow and shared a look with Archie, no nodded imperceptibly. He would remain with the body until the men from the house came to conduct a thorough search of the church, the churchyard and the body.
Florrie was silent as they made their way slowly down the long road toward Crompton. She felt Pie glance at her several times. At first she was relieved that he made no attempt at conversation but, when they were half way down the drive, he broke the silence.
“I know there is trouble around you,” Pie declared, watching Florrie blush guiltily. “You have you understand that it is our job to get the bottom of matters such as these. It will make our job considerably easier if you tell us what we want to know from the outset.” He sighed in frustration when she remained quiet. He didn’t exactly expect her to tell him everything while they were on the driveway, but he needed her to confide in him. “We will find out who he is, and exactly what happened in that churchyard, you can count on it.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Florrie argued, her voice firmer now that the first wave of shock had started to wear off. “He was already dead when I got there.”
Pie’s eyes met and held hers for several long moments. He wanted to believe her, but wasn’t altogether sure. He couldn’t lose sight of his years of experience with the Star Elite. He had seen with his own eyes just how duplicitous even the most beautiful females could be and had no intention of being snared in this particular beauty’s web of deceit. Still, he couldn’t prevent the bitter surge of regret that swept through him at the thought that the lady before him may not be as innocent as she might pretend to be.
Pie escorted her through the main hall and straight into the study. She was acutely aware of the stunned silence that swept through the occupants of the room when they caught sight of her. She didn’t even glance at Harriett, who quietly made her excuses and left.
Instead, she allowed Pie to escort her to one of the chairs but shook her head at the small goblet of brandy he offered her. She glanced down at her soiled hands and glanced away, unable to stand the sight of the man’s blood on her fingers.
“Pie?” Hugo’s voice was deadly. “Care to expla
in?”
Florrie listened while Pie recounted what they had found in the churchyard. Although he didn’t say as much, the inference that she had carried out the deadly attack was there in his voice.
“I didn’t kill him,” Florrie argued, desperation clawing at her. If she allowed Pie to continue to recount his findings with everyone, she would be on her way to jail and tried and convicted for murder before she could draw a breath. She glared at him defiantly and turned her gaze toward Hugo, Simon and Jonathan who all stared back at her. They were waiting.
She explained what had happened in slow, careful tones. It was the honest truth. She couldn’t embellish it, she didn’t excuse it. There was nothing to excuse. Why then were they still staring at her?
“Why did you pick up the blade?” The soft question came from Simon, whose casual posture in the chair before the fire place sat in stark contrast to the tension within the room.
Florrie watched as Jonathan spoke quietly to Pie before nodding toward Rupert, who was standing next to the window. Both men quietly left the room.
“I knocked it with my foot. I bent down and placed my hand on his chest to see if he was still breathing.” Her breath hiccupped in her throat and she felt tears beckon as she glanced down at her fingers. “There was no movement,” she whispered, her eyes filled with horror. “He was already dead.” She glanced back at Simon, ignoring the single tear that trickled down her cheek. “When I stood up, I nudged the knife with my skirts or something, I am not sure, but I picked it up and then Pie and Archie appeared.” She knew her breath was coming in hiccupping pants but couldn’t stop the tide of panic that was gathering. She had no idea what she was going to do if they didn’t believe her. Her aunt Tabatha would certainly be no help. If only she had insisted on moving to Norfolk as soon as the house was purchased, none of this would have happened.
