House Party Murder Rap: 1920s Historical Cozy Mystery (An Evie Parker Mystery)

by Sonia Parin

  House Party Murder Rap

  1920s Historical Cozy Mystery

  An Evie Parker Mystery

  Book 1

  By Sonia Parin

  House Party Murder Rap Copyright © 2018 Sonia Parin

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  About this book

  1920s England. Light-hearted historical cozy mystery.

  Two people have been targeted. Who stands to inherit? Who has the most to lose? Evangeline ‘Evie’ Parker, Countess of Woodridge, thinks it’s nothing but an accident but then an attempt is made on her host’s life. Suddenly, all the guests attending the Duke of Hetherington’s house party think they are being targeted. Who will be next? Evie and her new chauffeur form an unlikely alliance to discover as much as they can before the killer can get it right.

  Characters appearing in House Party Murder Rap

  Evangeline ‘Evie’ Parker, Countess of Woodridge

  Tom Winchester: Chauffeur/bodyguard

  Caro: lady’s maid

  Yarborough Manor

  Albert Brenton – Bicky to his friends: His Grace, The Duke of Hetherington

  Clara: Her Grace, The Duchess of Hetherington

  The Dowager Duchess of Hetherington

  Larkin: Butler

  Stevens: Valet

  Yarborough Manor Guests

  Charles: Viscount Maison

  Lord Matthew Chambers

  Lady Charlotte Chambers

  Mr. Mark Harper

  Lady Hammons (Penelope)

  Lady Porteus (Elizabeth)

  Lady Aspendale (Gloriana)

  Neighbors

  Lady Wainscot

  Eugene Wainscot

  Clarissa Wainscot

  Ruth: Maid

  Lotte Chambers

  The Village

  Marceline’s Salon de Beaute

  Anna: sales assistant

  Dr. Higgins

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Author Notes

  Books by Sonia Parin

  Chapter One

  The talk of the town

  Spring, 1920

  Hainsley Hall, Yarborough, Yorkshire

  Lady Wainscot settled down to read the missive which had been delivered earlier that day. Her morning had been filled with last minute preparations for that weekend’s house party and she’d only now managed to find the time to attend to other matters.

  Her eyes widened with each word she read.

  “So, it’s true,” she murmured to herself. “Evangeline Parker will be arriving this afternoon.” Her lips pursed with obvious dissatisfaction. She had heard a rumor, but she hadn’t thought it possible.

  Actually, she hadn’t wanted to believe it.

  Not only had Evangeline Parker returned from her extended trip to America, but she had also decided to revisit the scene of her crime.

  This weekend, of all weekends.

  Pressing her hand to her chest, Lady Wainscot drew in a sharp breath. With numerous guests arriving within the hour, she wouldn’t be able to make the rounds and find out more.

  Succumbing to the feeling of utter defeat, her hand dropped to her lap. A second later, she perked up. She would send someone else to make inquiries and report back to her.

  Determined to take prompt action, she rang the bell. She’d expected the butler to make an appearance but, instead, the maid rushed in. She supposed it had something to do with the household being in an upheaval as everyone rushed around ensuring everything met her exacting standards.

  Surging to her feet, Lady Wainscot fussed with her skirt and, lifting her chin, she straightened into her trademark imperious pose. “Ruth, would you please tell the girls to come down this instant. I need to speak with them.”

  “As you wish, milady.”

  “Tell them to hurry,” Lady Wainscot urged.

  “Yes, milady.”

  As the maid turned to leave, another thought occurred. “Ruth. Tell them they’ll be riding to Yarborough Manor.”

  The maid’s brow furrowed slightly.

  “Well? Go on.”

  “Begging your pardon, milady. I just finished helping Miss Eugene into her new dress. It took forever to do all those little buttons up. She’s not going to be pleased about having to change again… what with the guests arriving so soon…”

  Lady Wainscot gave the maid a slight lift of her eyebrow, a sure sign of her displeasure and growing impatience.

  “Yes, milady. Right away.”

  As soon as the maid disappeared to deliver her instructions, Lady Wainscot drew in a calming breath and released it as a shuddering sigh.

  Evangeline Parker.

  Here to ruin everything for her.

  Again.

  “Over my dead body.”

  ***

  The outskirts of Yarborough, Yorkshire

  Evangeline’s eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment to engage her mind. When she did, she emitted a light groan.

  They were trekking through the Yorkshire countryside, making their way to Yarborough Manor for the weekend house party, one of many events in the county organized as a season opener.

  If given the choice, she would much rather have stayed at the London house enjoying her semi reclusive lifestyle. However, after two months of limiting her social outings to a few dinners and afternoon teas, she had run out of excuses and so she had sat down to go through the invitations which had begun pouring in the moment she had returned to London.

  She wished news about her return to England hadn’t spread quite so quickly. In her opinion, this only gave rise to speculation about her reasons for returning; assumptions she could do without since they would all, no doubt, focus on her marital status...

  “If only people would simply let it go,” she mouthed.

  Ten years before, in the Spring of 1910, she had first set foot on English soil as a spirited debutante urged by her mama to make the best of her season and land herself a titled gentleman.

  As a young girl, Evie had traveled the length and breadth of her homeland, including little known tracks of wilderness, and had been eager to experience something vibrantly new.

  Unfortunately, she had been disappointed. Instead of the excitement she had yearned for, she had found
everyone and everything in England deeply steeped in old traditions and rules. More than she had ever encountered, Evie thought. Feeling stifled, she had pleaded with her mama to take her back home, all to no avail.

  Then, to her surprise, she had fallen in love and she had remained in love until destiny had dealt her a hard, cruel hand.

  Everything had been altered. She had become a widow. Her first instinct had been to flee back home to America and stay there but, after two years of being cocooned in familiar surroundings, she had made the firm decision to return to England.

  She had as yet to determine if this had been the right step to take. While she’d had plenty of time to get used to her new status as a single woman and to overcome the pain of her loss, which everyone had promised would subside in due course, she knew the memories would surely surge to the surface again.

  Such is life, she thought and switched her attention to the here and now.

  She supposed it would be fabulous to catch up with Bicky.

  Albert Brenton, Duke of Hetherington, Bicky to his close friends and family, had been her husband’s oldest friend. He, of all people, would understand why she’d chosen to stay away.

  “Tom?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I slept like a log. The last time I came out to Yorkshire, the driver hit every pothole along the way. You are marvelous.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Evie pressed her lips together to stop herself from correcting him. Tom Winchester had been in her employ for two months and he still insisted on calling her ma’am, but at least he had stopped using her title.

  She hoped she hadn’t confused the situation by not providing him with an alternative form of address. For now, it would have to be ma’am. At least until she settled on something less formal. How would she feel if her chauffeur called her Evie?

  Of course, despite protocol, she hadn’t thought twice about embracing a first name practice. In reality, she should have addressed her chauffeur as Winchester, but Evie preferred Tom. And, in this instance, she wished to have her way—something that seemed to be happening with increasing regularity, she couldn’t help thinking.

  During her recent journey back home to America she had allowed all the formalities that accompanied her life in England to lapse. Perhaps a part of her had hoped Tom would help her maintain it by adopting a more casual approach. It would certainly be a lovely bridge between the life she led and the life she yearned for. Surely that had been her grandmother’s intention when she’d arranged for Tom to become her chauffeur and travel back to England with her.

  “Tom. Have you ever lived in the country?”

  “On occasion, ma’am.”

  Evie waited for him to provide more information but it seemed, where his private life was concerned, he would remain a closed book.

  Not if she had her way…

  “Tom, I believe we are now traveling through the Duke’s land. Have you ever seen anything so vast?”

  Tom appeared to weigh his words before responding, “Yes, ma’am. In Texas. Although, this is much greener.”

  Surprised to hear more than a yes or no answer, Evie smiled.

  The distraction she has sought did not last.

  A sense of trepidation swept through her. The last time she had traveled this way, she had been blissfully happy…

  Closing her eyes, she recalled her granny’s warning to brace herself because, in her opinion, Evie’s return would be seen as throwing down the gauntlet, so she shouldn’t be surprised when the reprisals began shooting her way.

  Young, wealthy, titled… and available.

  Yes, some people would perceive her presence as flaunting her availability. However, they would be wrong.

  She had no intention of marrying again.

  Ever.

  Chapter Two

  The Red Sox v The Yankees

  “How are you enjoying the scenery, Tom? I believe this is your first trip to the English countryside.”

  Several seconds ticked by before Tom answered. “It’s a pleasant change from London, ma’am.”

  Yes, she would have to agree. A few days away from the busy and frenetic activities of town living would do her a world of good. At least, she hoped so. “Tom…”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you miss home?”

  “I can’t say that I do, ma’am.”

  “Really?” Whenever she came across someone from her neck of the woods, all they could talk about was how much they missed just about everything, which made her wonder why they ever bothered making the long transatlantic journey.

  “Do you follow any games, Tom?” Evie asked, although she already knew the answer. However, if she didn’t encourage a conversation, he would quite happily drive the rest of the way in complete silence.

  “Baseball, ma’am.”

  “Let me guess, you’re a Yankee’s fan.” Leaning slightly forward, Evie saw his jaw muscles clench.

  “Red Sox, ma’am.”

  “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said lightly. “My mistake. Of course, I’d forgotten. You originally hail from Boston.” She tried to hide her smile. Her tone filled with innocence as she said, “I’m partial to the Yankees. I wonder… is this going to affect our working relationship?”

  His jaw muscles twitched again. “I don’t see why it should, ma’am.”

  Of course, it wouldn’t. But she couldn’t help predicting many lively conversations.

  It had only been a few months since the Red Sox had shipped Babe Ruth to the Yankees in exchange for crisp stacks of redeemable U.S. currency. Many fans had been aghast that such a talent would be cast off while others had welcomed the change in favor of a more cohesive team rather than a one-man show.

  Their loss and the Yankee’s win, Evie thought.

  “You’ll have to keep me informed, Tom. Sometimes, I become so immersed in the society pages, I don’t find the time to get to the sports coverage.” Evie wondered if this would help lower the barrier he seemed so intent on maintaining. She hoped it would.

  Leaning forward slightly, she said, “We’re coming up to the village now. I want to point out the pub.”

  When her granny had asked her to look after Tom, Evie had taken the request to heart. So, she had sent a message ahead to organize a room for Tom at the local pub.

  Servants working in large estates were used to guests bringing their own staff, but Evie had heard too many stories about servants imposing their stalwart rules of etiquette and strict class system.

  Knowing Tom had never worked in service before and having her own two pennies worth of opinions about the often tedious snobbery of drawing rooms, she had decided to spare him the hierarchical downstairs experience.

  Pointing ahead, she said, “There it is. The Bow and Arrow.” She caught sight of his small smile. “It’s a quaint name and rather a pleasant change from the usual Royal Arms or Queen’s something or other. Then again, being new to England, you might not have noticed the practice of giving pubs rather engaging names.”

  “Actually, I have noticed, ma’am. In fact, I was thinking of the ‘Hang Drawn and Quartered’ or the ‘I Am the Only Running Footman’ pubs, both in London.”

  “Oh, yes. That one is in Charles Street, Mayfair. And, you’re right, there are some unusual names.” She tapped her chin and tried to recall a few names she’d encountered during her various jaunts around the countryside. “’The Case is Altered’, in Middlesex and ‘The Bucket of Blood’ in Cornwall come to mind.” She settled back into her seat. “I believe you will find The Bow and Arrow quite comfortable.”

  “I’m sure I will, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but are you sure you want to dispense with my services during your stay, ma’am?”

  “Yes, quite sure. These type of house parties are well orchestrated. There will be lunches and dinners and in-between, walks and rides and perhaps some shooting. All taking place within the estate. So, you see, you can en
joy a nice vacation.”

  As they entered the village, Tom slowed down to an appropriate speed. In previous years, Evie had been a regular guest at Yarborough Manor, the Duke of Hetherington’s family seat. In fact, she had met her husband at one of Bicky’s house parties.

  After her marriage, there had been a number of times when they had enjoyed extended visits and Evie had often wandered around the small village, acquainting herself with some of the locals.

  “Tom, could you please stop the car. I’d like to drop in on Marceline’s Salon de Beaute. They stock the most wonderful primrose scented soap. At least, I hope they still do. I’d like to place an order.”

  Evie recalled Marceline’s Salon de Beaute’s humble beginnings selling anything and everything from dresses to locally made soaps as well as the emerging ladies’ beauty care products. Now, it seemed, they had revamped the business, seemingly aspiring to cater to a more exclusive clientele, but in reality, netting their business from any female intent on staving off the ravages of time.

  Evie strode across the square, stopping a couple of times to give way to vehicles. The last time she had visited the village, motor vehicles had been a rare sight. She spotted a horse and cart outside a store and made a point of committing the image to memory, since she doubted she would see many more in the near future.

  Along the way, she exchanged smiles with the local villagers she encountered, even though she failed to recognize most of them. It didn’t surprise her to see new faces as the last couple of years had introduced many changes with people moving to different towns or large cities. She had heard say some people had abandoned their lives of service and had moved on to more lucrative jobs in stores or factories.

  A man tipped his hat at her. Another one stopped to let her through. She saw a man standing by Marceline’s salon, the sleeve of his coat pinned up. A war casualty, Evie thought. A moment later, a lady emerged from the store and, joining him, they strode away together.