by C. G Oster
Dory had a look out the window. “I see you are still rearing chickens.”
“Yes, they won’t let us get rid of the ghastly things. The stench at times is unbearable, especially on warm, still days. They’re such pretty creatures, but they make an awful mess. In places, the lawn is absolutely ruined.”
Livinia appeared at the door. “You summoned, Aunt?” Livinia said dryly, wearing a tight green pencil skirt and a silk blouse.
“Yes, my dear, now please sit down and have tea with us.”
For a moment, she looked set to argue, but she relented. “Did she tell you that Vivian called?” Livinia said to Dory.
“Yes. That is wonderful news.” If it had worried Dory, the uncertainty about Vivian had probably terrified Livinia. While the siblings weren’t terrible affectionate toward each other, there was real fondness there. And while her relationship with Livinia was at times fraught, it could be downright adversarial with Vivian. It had been the last time she’d seen him in the South of France. Vivian had the capability of being cruel when it suited him. Still, she was inordinately glad that he wasn’t dead. Mostly because of the toll it would take on Lady Pettifer.
“Now, Livinia,” Lady Pettifer said. “Do you know if there were any tensions between Cornelia Vellsted and her friends?”
Silently, Livinia looked over at her for a while. “What do you mean tension?”
“Most likely it was someone in her wedding party that murdered her,” Dory said.
Livinia chuckled disbelievingly, but then her smile melted away. Sheer logic suggested it was someone who knew her, and Livinia wasn’t quite so foolish as to dismiss it. “No, those girls are all very sensible.”
None of those girls were probably sensible in the way Dory used the term, but there was nothing to be gained from saying so.
“As for any quarrels, there are none that I know about. I mean, tisses crop up, don’t they? Doesn’t mean people go around murdering each other.”
“Only something murderers do,” Lady Pettifer said.
It sounded as if Lady Pettifer saw murderers as a distinct species that were hidden amongst them. The thought sent a shiver up Dory’s spine. Although she wasn’t sure she herself saw them in that light. Some people were driven to murder, but it was true that some had a distinct lack of care for the people around them. Maybe it was true that there were natural born murderers, who would strike when there was something for them to gain out of it. “Why would someone murder a bride in her wedding dress?”
“Jealousy?” Livinia suggested.
“We don’t know that her being in her wedding dress is actually relevant,” Lady Pettifer said.
“How could it not be? It had to be the first time she had tried it on and someone was so distraught that they murdered her. The problem is that I can’t really see Prudence, Rose or Annabelle doing such a thing. They are all wonderful girls.”
“But there are always tensions between girls. Mr. Harlowe said he observed some tension between them,” Lady Pettifer said. “What does Captain Ridley say about it?”
“He said we should leave it to DI Capshaw to investigate. Seems to think the man is qualified.”
Lady Pettifer snorted. “That man couldn’t tell the difference between a chemise and a bralet. How could he possibly pry into the nuances of female relationships? He wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Well, he has been casting dispersions far and wide,” Dory said.
“One thing is certain. None of those girls are going to talk to a clout like that,” Livinia stated.
“It is likely one of those girls killed Miss Vellsted,” Lady Pettifer said.
“Surely not,” Livinia said, but her voice betrayed her doubt. “That would be awful. Poor Fredrick.”
“Who’s Fredrick?” Dory asked.
“The groom, of course. The man who had just lost his fiancé.”
Throughout, Dory hadn’t paid that much attention to whom Cornelia was marrying, simply for the reason that he hadn’t been present. “Yes, of course. He must be quite distraught.”
“Poor man,” Lady Pettifer commiserated. “Have you spoken to him?”
Livinia looked over. “No, I don’t know him that well that I would call him, I suppose. Perhaps I should and give my condolences.”
“I think you should go see him. Take Dory along.”
With tight lips, Livinia gave her aunt a pointed look.
“You never know what he’s observed, or what Cornelia has told him. It could be that he knows something. That clod Capshaw certainly isn’t going to find out.”
“I’m sure that dreadful man has gone to see Fredrick,” Livinia replied.
“And who knows what he has insinuated,” Lady Pettifer said.
Dory looked between them. “It could be that DI Capshaw puts little stock into what Fredrick has to say as he just wasn’t there.” Exactly like Dory had dismissed him because he appeared unrelated.
“Even if he doesn’t know anything about the crime,” Lady Pettifer said, “he might know who Cornelia was having trouble with.”
“Not really something you speak to your beau about,” Livinia stated.
“But we don’t know that. He could know something very important.”
“Fine,” Livinia relented, “but not today, and I have things to do tomorrow. And I am not driving all the way down to Swanley.”
“You can pick me up from Victoria Station,” Dory said.
“If you insist,” Livinia said, seemingly bored. “Poor man. I should relay my condolences. He’s quite attractive, you know. Quite the catch. It’s hardly surprising someone was jealous. Together they seemed like the perfect pair.”
“What have you brought with you?” Lady Pettifer asked, noticing the packet by Dory’s chair.
“Oh, just a tin for Mrs. Moor. My mother wished me to convey it to her.”
“Yes, of course. You should probably go see her before she needs to start supper.”
Chapter 10
“COME ON, THEN,” Livinia said as she pulled over by the curb outside Victoria Station. Her blond curls were slightly messy from the wind and she smoked a cigarette. Dory got in and Livinia quickly navigated out into the flow of traffic again. “Driving around London is complete shambles.”
“They are working on the roads day and night.”
“Well, they should do more.”
Taking a drag of her cigarette, she tooted at a man who seemed to have stopped for no apparent reason. “Well, pull over if you don’t know where you’re going. I swear, some people.”
“Have you heard anything more from Vivian?”
“No, not since that first call. Cedric was wondering if he should fly down there to go see him, but he may not be able to get back. It’s near impossible to book a flight anywhere at the moment. It seems everyone wants to go somewhere. Father suspects Vivian will return by boat, but that would take weeks.”
“Oh,” Dory said.
Livinia yelled at a young man who nearly stepped in front of her car. “So why isn’t your DI investigating Cornelia’s murder, anyway?”
“He hasn’t returned to the Metropolitan Police yet, and he’s in another ward, so it wouldn’t have been assigned to him anyway.”
“As rude as the man is, he is effective.”
Captain Ridley wasn’t rude, but Livinia’s dislike for him had always been clear, and it was true that he was effective.
“Did that man, Capshaw, speak to you again?” Dory asked.
“No, not since the day it happened.”
It probably wouldn’t serve anyone if Dory told her that Capshaw had thrown dispersions Livinia’s way during Dory’s interview with him. The man seemed to have resoundedly made himself unpopular, but according to Ridley, it may simply be part of his method. He wasn’t there to be cordial and make friends, after all.
They drove out of the city for a while, toward Windsor and then pulled into a private road, leading down to a nice manor house built of stone. They
pulled into the gravel path and Livinia abruptly stopped the car. “Well, here we are.”
A young woman came out of the door. “Livinia, so good to see you.”
“Meredith, how are you? I haven’t seen you since school.” They embraced quickly and Meredith turned her attention to Dory, who smiled. “Oh, and this is Dory. She’s… accompanying me.”
Meredith seemed to take this assertion at face value. “Such an awful thing about Cornelia. We heard you were there that day. Fredrick is beside himself.”
“It was the most shocking thing. How is Fredrick holding up?”
“Best as can be hoped for. All his plans have been completely scuppered, of course. Doesn’t quite know what to do with himself now.”
They walked into the house, entering a vestibule where a dog came bounding out. “Buttons, no,” Meredith said as it started to jump up. “Outside,” she ordered and the dog grudgingly complied. “No sense at all, that dog.” She closed the door and then led them into a salon. “You know my mother, of course.”
“Yes, Mrs. Summerfield, so delighted to see you again.”
“Livinia,” the smartly dressed woman said. “Kind of you to come see us. Such a terrible time. We heard you were there. It must have been such a shock for you. We simply cannot understand who would do such a thing to poor Cornelia. So kind and gentle. You couldn’t ask for a better girl. Her parents must be utterly distraught.”
“We haven’t actually heard from them,” Meredith said.
“They probably haven’t emerged from their shock,” Mrs. Summerfield said. Who then looked at Dory as if trying to place her.
“Dorothy Sparks,” she said and held out her hand.
“Ah, of course,” Mrs. Summerfield said, as if remembering her, which wasn’t possible, but Dory appreciated the attempt at being polite. “Please sit down. We must have tea. Baxter,” she called, and the man who had to be the Summerfield family butler appeared. “Some tea for our guests would be lovely. There is so much to do, you understand. I thought I would take over from Mrs. Vellsted to cancel the various accoutrements to the wedding. Too much for her to deal with just at the moment, I’m sure.”
“Poor woman,” Meredith said.
“And how are you?” Mrs. Summerfield addressed Livinia. “How is your… father?” For a moment, it seemed like the woman was going to ask about Lady Wallisford, simply out of habit, but thought better of it. It would have been a very awkward conversation if she had. Most likely the woman was curious what had happened to Lady Wallisford. In truth, Dory didn’t really know. Last it had been mentioned, the intention was to take her to the Bahamas—or was it Bermuda? Dory couldn’t remember.
“Well, and Vivian, who’s in Australia at the moment,” Livinia said, making it sound light and breezy as if he hadn’t been out of touch for three years. “Obviously he would love to give his condolences to Fredrick. Where is Fredrick?”
“Oh, he’s around somewhere. Meredith, go see where he is.” The young woman got up and left. She seemed a few years younger than Livinia. Dory assumed Fredrick was more Livinia’s contemporary, but it was only an assumption.
Mrs. Summerfield smiled brightly with the lull in the conversation that remained as the tea service arrived. “No, that’s alright, Baxter. I’ll pour,” she said and the man retreated. “The war is over, but our gardeners still haven’t returned. Anyone who knew anything about potting a plant got pilched by the land army and we still aren’t getting them back. The gardens are a mess.”
“At least you don’t have chickens,” Livinia said wryly.
“Livinia, so sweet of you to come,” a young man said as he walked into the room. Blond with a slightly upturned nose. “How are you?”
“Well. How are you? Or should I not ask?”
“What can I say? It is incomprehensible. Poor Corny. I simply cannot understand that she’s gone. Any moment, I am expecting her on the telephone, but she will never call again. Honestly, I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Poor you,” Livinia said with sadness. “You have no idea what happened?”
“None whatsoever. I simply cannot understand.”
“Yet someone… stabbed her,” Livinia stated.
“It is too gruesome to speak of. Let’s speak of something more gay,” Mrs. Summerfield said, which was unfortunate, because speaking about it was the reason they were there—but they couldn’t now go on about it. It grew silent around the table.
“Vivian sends his condolences, of course. He’s in Australia.”
“I am hardly surprised that Vivian’s found himself as far away from England as he could get. He was always the adventurous one,” Fredrick said with a smile.
“Although it might take him a while to return. Transport is still very difficult, I understand.”
“Is your aunt planning on returning to the South of France this year?”
“I suspect it will have to wait until next year. Who knows what she will find down there, and the travel companion,” Livinia said with a quick nod to Dory, “is getting married.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Summerfield said.
“Hence the reason we were at Harlowe’s that day.”
Silence descended again.
“Well, congratulations,” Mrs. Summerfield said after a while. “On your upcoming nuptials.”
“Thank you,” Dory said, speaking for the first time. It was difficult to come into a group of people who all knew each other and be the only stranger.
“This tea is divine. It is so hard to get good tea these days,” Livina added to break any awkwardness.
Mrs. Summerfield gave a wink. “Bertie has it sent through the diplomatic bag from Calcutta.”
“Clever man,” Livinia said with a smile. “Now,” she said, putting her hand on Mrs. Summerfields, “would you mind terribly if we speak to Fredrick more privately?”
“No, of course not,” the woman said, but her surprise was clear.
“Of a more sensitive nature, considering,” Livinia added. “Maybe a stroll outside?”
Luckily, it wasn’t raining. Dory replaced her teacup and rose, as did Fredrick, who pulled out a packet of cigarettes. As he stepped out into the garden, he lit one, then offered the packet to them. Dory declined, but Livinia accepted.
Whatever was wrong with the garden, Dory couldn’t see. It looked perfect from her perspective, but she was by far not an expert on gardening.
“Now, Freddy?” Livinia said. “Who do you think killed Corny?”
“Honestly, I have no idea,” he said after a moment’s consideration.
“It had to be one of the girls with her,” Livinia said.
“No, it simply can’t be.”
“From all appearances,” Dory said, “it was a crime of hate.”
“I think, technically, they call it a crime of passion,” Livinia added.
“Did Miss Vellsted have strife with any of the girls?” Dory asked.
“No, they all adored her. Who wouldn’t adore Corny?”
“So she never mentioned quarrelling with either Rose, Prudence or Annabelle?”
“No, they were friends.”
“Come on, Fredrick, we both know that friendships have their strains and contentions. Corny was a headstrong girl.”
“Yes, but no one would murder her. That’s ridiculous.” He took a drag and sighed. “They were all very excited about the wedding and being a part of it.”
“They were all to be bridesmaids?” Livinia said.
“Yes. If they hated her to the point of wanting to stick a knife in her, they wouldn’t have said yes, would they?”
Dory didn’t know how true that was, and Livinia’s raised eyebrow showed she wasn’t entirely buying the statement either. “So she didn’t mention anyone in particular for any reason?” Livinia pressed.
“She did not,” Fredrick replied. “She was very happy. She was happy with the design of the dress and she was excited about trying it on.”
“Well, it was a beautiful dre
ss,” Livinia said. “A shame you will never get to see it.” Stepping closer, she gave Fredrick a squeeze around the shoulder. “It is all such a shame. But someone did kill her and it had to be one of those three girls.”
“DI Capshaw seemed to have different theories,” he said.
“I think in this case, that man couldn’t find his way out of a phone booth,” Livinia said.
“Irrespective, you should leave it to him to ask questions. He is the professional.”
“Not if you want to find out who actually murdered her,” Livinia said sharply, then softened. “Poor Corny. It is just so awful. I am sorry.”
Fredrick looked lost and woeful for a moment, before he sighed and looked away.
Chapter 11
“FREDRICK, THE POOR DEAR, is actually quite clueless when it comes to women,” Livinia said as she closed the driver’s door to the car and started the ignition.
“Not unusual, perhaps. What bothered you most about what he said?”
“Well, mainly that a girl wouldn’t accept an invitation to being a bridesmaid if they hated a bride. Not that I think Rose, Prue or Annabelle hated Corny, but things are not always as black and white as Freddy seems to think. We’ll never know unless we ask. I think we should go see Rose. She doesn’t live that far away.”
Livinia tore out on the road. Oh how Dory had missed Livinia’s driving. “Nice family, though, the Summerfields,” Livinia yelled over the sound of the wind, the sky looked dry, so the canvas top was still down. “They are so distraught by this. Poor Freddy.”
Dory liked driving out in the country. There weren’t so many signs of the war and she could pretend everything was as it should be. The air was clean, although there were bugs splattering on the windscreen.
A good half hours’ drive and they pulled into another house, which actually looked very modern. White with large windows, chrome and a flat roof. On one side of the building, the wall was rounded. It wasn’t what Dory had expected. “Rose’s father’s an architect.” That did explain the modern building. “Do you like it?”
“It’s certainly different. Are you sure someone’s home?” There were no cars in front of the house.
