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

by Sonia Parin

Mr. Winchester?

  There hadn’t been an ounce of mockery in Edgar’s tone. In fact, he’d used the reverence reserved for royalty.

  Holding the front door open for Evie, Edgar inclined his head.

  Evie took a step forward only to stop. “Mr. Winchester?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Tom Winchester.”

  “One and the same, my lady.”

  “And you don’t have a problem with that?”

  “I don’t believe I do, my lady.”

  Something had transpired, but she didn’t have any time to delve. “Please don’t alert the staff of my arrival. In fact, pretend as if I’m not here.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  Evie strode out almost in a daze. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Edgar had been bribed into compliance.

  Lost in her thoughts, she experienced the second surprise of the day. Although, if she really thought about it, her entire day had been filled with them.

  She found Tom leaning against a roadster. He had swapped his country tweed suit for a smart ensemble of the finest cut. The light gray suit, white shirt and sea green tie, matched with caramel brown brogues, complimented her clothes.

  “I suppose I should apologize for taking so long,” Evie said in her breeziest tone, “but you might not have noticed my tardiness since you were probably busy mugging someone for their clothes.”

  Smiling, he held the car door open for her.

  Evie wanted to say something about the motor car, but she couldn’t get her mind off the fact he had managed to procure an entire outfit from thin air while she had battled through an already available selection.

  As she settled into the passenger seat, she said, “I suppose I should ask where your clothes and the car came from, but then I would also have to ask about Edgar. I’m sure you did something to him and he’ll never be the same again.”

  Tom smiled. “The less you know, the better.”

  “I paid good money to get a stuffy butler of the first order. I hope you haven’t damaged him.” She looked around her. “This car smells new.” And his clothes looked new.

  Sitting back, she decided to leave it all alone. Her resolution lasted two seconds. Leaning toward him, she sniffed him.

  That earned her a raised eyebrow look.

  “You look and smell cleanshaven.”

  As he took off, his sleeve shifted enough to reveal his watch. It looked different to the one he’d worn earlier.

  Again, Evie leaned in and, tugging his sleeve back, she had a closer look.

  “We have plenty of time,” he said.

  Time… courtesy of the oldest luxury watch manufacturing company, Patek Philippe.

  Evie had a horde of questions but she kept them to herself and settled for watching Tom expertly weave his way through London traffic.

  “People seem to be growing attached to their motor cars,” she remarked. They had already converted the stables at the house into a place to house the motor car. She had the room for it, but not everyone did. “I almost yearn for the days of horse drawn carriages…” In the next breath, she said, “I think I should have called the restaurant and made a booking for us.”

  “No need to worry. It’s been taken care of.”

  Evie slanted her gaze toward him, her curiosity urging her to ask for clarification. “With so much taken care of, I hope the Duchess complies and makes this impromptu trip to London worth our while. It would be unkind of her to ruin our haphazard plans by not turning up.”

  “And if she had a generous bone in her body,” he said, “she could even own up to plotting both your downfall and Bicky’s?”

  “Yes, that would be perfectly lovely of her. Of course, I would then have to pay her a visit in prison…”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rumor has it…

  The Criterion, Piccadilly Circus

  They sat at a central table with an uninterrupted view of the famous Criterion Long Bar with its marble and blue and white ornamentation and glistening ceiling of gold mosaic. When the waiter presented the lamb dish, Evie tried to recall how they’d made their way to a main course. She knew they’d placed an order but their attention had been fixed on the still absent Duchess.

  Evie even struggled to remember why they had come chasing after her.

  Soon after arriving, Evie had insisted on cutting to the chase and establishing whether or not the Duchess had been lunching at the Criterion.

  The Maître d’ had been quite accommodating but only after Tom had slipped him a bill.

  Yes, Her Grace had recently become a regular diner.

  Would she be here today?

  Yes, they certainly hoped to be graced by her presence.

  And yet…

  Her Grace had yet to make an appearance.

  Before the waiter moved away, Evie asked, “Has the Duchess of Hetherington already lunched today?”

  “No, my lady. We’re expecting her soon.”

  When the waiter strode away, Tom smiled. “Patience doesn’t seem to be one of your virtues.”

  “No, not today. The Duchess is either a significant piece of the puzzle or a not so innocent bystander.” Evie wished they’d been able to establish her intentions. If only they’d found a letter hinting at her dissatisfaction with her marriage and her plans to do everything in her power to dissolve it.

  “She’s flaunting her affair right under his nose by her very absence,” Evie muttered. If Bicky wanted to part ways, he would need solid evidence of adultery and he would have it with ease. But Evie knew he would never travel down that path. “She thinks she’s above it all.”

  “We don’t have proof yet,” Tom said.

  Disregarding him, Evie added, “With such an un-cooperative husband, she might resort to force and something more final.” Arranging a small portion of food onto her fork, Evie tried to savor it, but her heart simply wouldn’t oblige her with the enthusiasm required.

  “You must be pleased,” she said, “after all, we’re here at your insistence. I hope you’re not expecting to get your way with my dog. Be warned, I will choose the one I want.”

  Tom reached for his glass of champagne and lifted it as if about to toast her. “So, you’ve decided which breed you want.”

  Evie’s chin rose slightly. “Maybe.” She looked around and then set her mind to rearranging the food on her plate.

  Tom sighed. “She will come.”

  “How can you be so sure? The Maître d’ might have been using her as a piece of publicity. Yes, Her Grace is one of our grandest patrons. He probably employs a stooge to murmur in prospective diners’ ears, enticing them to the establishment with promises of rubbing shoulders with a Duchess.”

  “As a matter of fact, I phoned ahead,” Tom revealed.

  “What? When?”

  “Before we left the house.”

  “Which house? Mine?”

  “No, Bicky’s.”

  “You knew all along we would encounter the Duchess here and that’s why you insisted we trek all the way down to London and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Well, the alternative would have been to pursue another lead and force the post mistress’ hand. I believe I made my feelings on the matter quite clear. Although, in hindsight, I’m sure you would have found a way to extricate the information without appearing to break any rules.”

  “Where there’s a will… And yes, I’m still puzzling over Penelope’s behavior.” And she still believed there might have been something of interest in that telegram. “She always makes such a fuss when she doesn’t get her way. You wouldn’t know it by her quiet demeanor, but she can be a hard task master. I pity her lady’s maid. Caro tells me she lives in fear of being fired with no letter of reference. You really wouldn’t know it by the way she behaves in the drawing room.”

  “Since you’re obsessing about her, what do you think she could be capable of and why?” Tom asked.

  “Any number of things. The fact she can juggle su
ch contrasting characters makes her rather enigmatic and untrustworthy. I’ve never really thought about it before, but now she’s given me reason to further analyze her behavior.”

  “And so, we can expect anything from her.”

  “Precisely.” Evie waited for Tom to ask about her motive for taking any sort of action against her or Bicky but his attention shifted. And just as well because she wouldn’t have been able to come up with a motive even if her life depended on it. Which it did…

  Turning slightly, Evie gasped. “There she is.” She swung back around and lowered her head.

  “Don’t you want her to see you?” Tom asked.

  Evie reached for her glass of champagne and gulped it down. Never in a million years would she have guessed…

  “She’s sitting down two tables away from us,” Tom said.

  “The man she’s with,” Evie managed to say before a waiter appeared and refilled her glass. “He’s married,” Evie whispered.

  “So is she.”

  “Yes, but… He is married to Penelope.” Had the telegram contained information about his affair?

  “Lady Penelope?”

  “Yes.”

  Tom chuckled. “I know I’ve only known you for a couple of months, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so wound up.”

  “I feel we are being diverted, led on a merry dance in order to confuse us or take our minds off what really matters. Don’t you think it’s strange how we haven’t even been able to establish who the real target is?”

  “You might have a point.” Tom quirked his eyebrow up. “They’re being very amorous. If they’re carrying on an illicit affair, shouldn’t they try to be more discreet?”

  Perhaps not, Evie thought.

  “What are you thinking?” Tom asked.

  “This might be their way of forcing their spouses’ hands.” She knew Bicky would never agree to a divorce. Nor would Penelope. As heir to his father’s title, Lord Hammond was in line to provide Penelope with the much-coveted title of Countess, something she would not give up easily. “Remember when Bicky spoke about his growing cynicism?”

  Tom nodded. “Matthew spoke against it, saying neither he nor his wife were in any hurry to take over the responsibilities associated with the title.”

  Evie huffed. “The same can’t be said for Penelope.” As a debutante, she’d been a wallflower. From what Evie had heard, her marriage to Lord Hammond had been quite a coup, brought about by the fact Penelope’s father had been able to provide a substantial dowry. “Her marriage and her status did not come easily to her. I can assure you, she will not be pleased about any of this.”

  Lord Hammond would survive a divorce, especially if steps had been taken to tie up Penelope’s dowry. Regardless, if he planned on pursuing more than a liaison with the Duchess of Hetherington, he would benefit from her vast fortune. Her marriage contract must have been costly, but her family had done very well out of their coal findings.

  Evie gasped. “Bicky will never agree to a divorce.”

  “Meaning?”

  “In order to be free to marry the Duchess, Lord Hammond would need to get Bicky out of the way.”

  “And you think he would take drastic steps to achieve his goal?” Tom asked.

  “He probably thinks being in London gives him the perfect alibi.”

  Frowning, Tom said, “Where do you fit into the picture?”

  Good question. “I… I could be the smokescreen, used to divert attention from his master plan.” She tilted her head in thought and played around with the idea of Lord Hammond as the mastermind. “Are they still carrying on?”

  Tom nodded. “See for yourself.”

  “I don’t dare. The sight of them together might keep me awake at night or I might be tempted into giving them a piece of my mind and that would surely cause a scene.”

  “That’s odd,” Tom murmured.

  “Are you taunting me? I told you, I refuse to look.”

  “Well, he keeps looking over his shoulder toward the entrance. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s expecting someone.”

  Evie cupped her hands around her eyes.

  Tom laughed. “Did you just put your blinkers on?”

  “I’m thinking. What if Lord Hammond sent Penelope a telegram saying he would be here with the Duchess as a challenge for her to do something or accept her fate?”

  Tom sat back and brushed his hand across his chin. “That’s an interesting theory. He might have sent it anonymously and since Penelope didn’t show anyone the telegram, only she knows the contents.”

  “Meaning?” She didn’t wait for Tom to answer. “This would be her perfect opportunity to strike.” She had no trouble seeing Penelope in a new light. After receiving the challenge from her cheating husband, she would have put a plan into motion, creating an alibi for herself by saying she needed to rush down to London and sort out her wardrobe problems. “Would she do it herself or organize someone else to do the deed?” And what would she do?

  “Are you now thinking Penelope will take her revenge and kill or have her husband killed?”

  Evie nodded.

  “But wouldn’t that defeat the purpose? She would then be without a husband and a title.”

  True. “Unless…”

  Tom leaned in. “Unless?”

  “She might have someone else lined up.”

  A wave of murmurs swept through the restaurant. Tom straightened and gazed around. Then, nudging his head toward the entrance, he said, “Ah, I see what he’s been waiting for.”

  The flash of a photograph being taken had everyone gasping.

  “If the commotion is anything to go by, I suspect there might be more than one secret rendezvous taking place here,” Evie mused. “I’ll also have to agree with you. This is what Lord Hammond has been waiting for.” Had he set himself and the Duchess up so they could have photographic proof to show their respective spouses?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Another wardrobe change…

  “Let me guess, we cannot possibly travel in these clothes,” Tom said under his breath in response to Evie’s insistence they drive back to the Mayfair house.

  When they arrived, Evie assured him, “It shouldn’t take as long this time. I’ll only be changing back into my traveling clothes. In any case, if we’re to make it back in time for dinner we should hurry and catch the next train.” As she strode into the house, she asked, “What will you do about your new motor car?”

  “Edgar can take care of it.”

  Could he, indeed? Striding up the stairs, Evie wondered what had been going on right under her nose. The thought kept her mind engaged throughout the half hour it took her to change into her traveling clothes.

  ***

  “You’re very quiet,” Tom remarked as they made their way to the train station in a taxi.

  “Oh, yes… I’ve been wondering about the stables we had converted for the motor car.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, I wonder how many cars I would find there. You see, I’ve never set foot inside the stables.” For all she knew, Tom might be keeping a collection of cars and clothes for every occasion.

  “King’s Cross Station,” the taxi driver announced.

  Evie took care of the payment and Tom held the door open for her. She stepped out and looked up only to gasp. Grabbing hold of Tom’s sleeve, she said to the taxi driver, “One moment, please.”

  She shoved Tom back inside the taxi and said, “Driver, follow that car.”

  Tom looked around him and asked, “What? Who?”

  Still holding on to his sleeve, Evie said, “I just saw Penelope emerging from a car.” With her free hand, she pointed ahead. “That one there.”

  “We’ll miss our train,” Tom said under his breath.

  “Never mind that.”

  “What do you base your hasty decision on?” Tom whispered.

  “Penelope supposedly came to town to sort out her wardrobe. Yet, here she was being dropped
off in a private car.”

  Frowning, Tom asked, “Wouldn’t it have been easier to approach her on the train and ask her?”

  “Oh, I suppose so.” Grinning, Evie added, “But this is more fun.” She tapped the front seat. “Driver, it’s making a turn. Don’t let it get away.”

  “Anyone would think you’re reluctant to return to Yarborough,” Tom mused. “Are you afraid of upsetting Bicky with the bad news?”

  “He can’t be upset by something he already knows. I suspect Penelope has also been made aware of the situation. Don’t worry, we’ll catch the next train. That car appears to be headed toward…” She looked around. “Driver, where are we now?”

  “Knightsbridge.”

  Evie tapped the driver’s seat again. “It’s slowing down. Now it’s turning.”

  The taxi driver followed at a discreet distance. “You seem to have done this before,” Evie remarked.

  “I’ve had some strange requests,” he agreed. He brought the taxi to a stop and pointed at the side of a house. “It’s going in there, into the carriage house. What would you like me to do?”

  Evie sat back. They needed to find out who lived in that house attached to the carriage house.

  Sighing, Tom eased the door open. “The chauffeur is coming out to have a cigarette. I’ll go see if I can engage him in conversation.”

  Evie watched him cross the street and approach the driver. “When he returns,” Evie told the driver, “drive half way down the street so the chauffeur doesn’t see him climbing into the taxi.”

  Evie had never been a nail biter. Yet, she found herself nibbling the tip of her finger. The area of Knightsbridge remained exclusive to those who could afford to live there. It stood to reason, the owner would have to be someone of note.

  Seeing Tom striding away from the chauffeur, Evie tapped the taxi driver on the shoulder. “You can move along a bit, just enough so the chauffeur doesn’t see us.” They wouldn’t want to make him suspicious in case he mentioned something to his employer…

  When Tom climbed in, the taxi driver turned, his eyes brightening with interest.