by C. G Oster
DI Ridley twisted his head and looked distracted, as though he was turning this new information over in his head. He bit his lip, which drew Dory's attention and distracted her. "He didn't mention it when I spoke to him."
"Probably didn't think of it. But what was she doing there?"
"I have no idea," Ridley said. "There is really nothing out that way?"
"Not for miles, or so I've heard. I don't really know the area well. Maybe she was meeting someone?"
"Maybe," Ridley said absently. He took a swig of his pint and remained silent.
"Lord Wallisford still thinks Michael Jones is responsible because he was her boyfriend. And Livinia Fellingworth couldn't be less interested in who killed her." Cedric was someone she hadn't talked to, but his alibi for the time of the murder had been confirmed. For a moment, she wondered if she should mention Vivian Fellingworth and their discussion where he'd more or less propositioned her to come to his room. "I don't think either of them know Michael Jones, but Vivian Fellingworth and George Henry both do."
"They both deal with cars, so that is logical. So no one has been able to establish why Nora was out on the Common Road?"
"I take it Michael Jones didn't mention anything related to it."
"No," Ridley said and brought out his cigarette case, taking one out and tapping the end on the case. He offered the case to her, but she shook her head. Lighting the cigarette, he inhaled and blew the smoke out. "We need to find out why she was on that road." His attention was on her now.
"They aren't going to talk to me about it, some of them," she finally had to admit, because quite a few of the people there would clam up if she even mentioned Nora at this point.
"I suppose I need to make another visit to the house, then," he said and Dory could well imagine how excited Lady Wallisford would be about it.
"There is a weekend party coming up. Political friends of Lord Wallisford. They are trying to establish Cedric in Parliament. Lady Wallisford would see it as a wildly inappropriate time."
"Is that right? Well, unfortunately, we do not plan murder investigations around the gentry's social calendars." The bored expression on his face said he didn't worry about Lady Wallisford's disapproval, or maybe he didn't like the woman that much. Who could blame him—she was awful.
Ridley looked away and out of the window. Dory watched him, having a moment doing so when she wasn't observed. His pint was half finished now and she hadn't even touched her lemon barley yet. She took a deep gulp of the both sweet and tart liquid.
"I can give you a ride to the hall," he said, looking back at her and flicking ash into the ashtray.
"You're going right now?"
"No point waiting."
"I have a bicycle, so I need to bring it back, but thank you for the offer." It was probably best anyway. It was hard to predict how it would be perceived if she came back in his company. They were suspicious of her as it was, which was a problem in terms of how useful she could be. It seemed she had burned her bridges with the people at the house. Except Lady Pettifer—and maybe Vivian, who had yet again flirted with her. More than flirted—he’d practically propositioned her.
Drawing a deep breath, Dory sighed. Something still felt really off with Vivian. There was something there and she couldn't put her finger on it. He had no alibi for the time of the murder, but there was nothing linking him to Nora, other than his propensity to get involved with the maids—a habit he had given up on long ago, according to his own telling—while at the same time inviting her to his room for not altogether innocent reasons, she was sure.
"No time like the present," Ridley said when she finished her lemon barley and he stood. "Safe ride back.” Dory smiled at him, feeling tickled that he cared about her safety. For being an actual gentleman, Vivian Fellingworth cared much less than DI Ridley. But then, with his callow and blasé behavior, she couldn't see him as half the man DI Ridley was. The thought of how offended Vivian would be if he knew she thought so made Dory smile. He acted like he owned the world and everything he touched turned to gold, but his position, good looks and fortune didn't make true substance. It took something other than that—something quiet and resolute, something strong.
Chapter 22
The house, at least the servants' area, turned into utter chaos as the weekend's visitors arrived. This was a completely different gathering of people than the previous parties at the hall. Firstly, they were mostly men, the timber of murmur in the parlor much lower. Some women accompanied their husbands, but this was definitely a male-centric event.
Vivian was in his element, standing confidently with his hand in his pocket, dressed quite informally in cream slacks and a knitted vest. As Dory brought in a bucket of ice, she heard his laughter from amongst the group of men. For all his intermittent boorish behavior, he did so easily slip into any social setting. Cedric was more awkward, more formally dressed and stood by his father. Perhaps it was a shame that Vivian didn't have the ambition to enter politics, but then he didn't seem to have ambition of any kind.
To her distress, Vivian was walking over to the side table where Dory was depositing ice and tidying glasses and decanters. Mr. Holmes stood by, carefully watching with his eagle eyes. The house's need for help was so dire, they had no choice but to accept the assistance she offered. Dory hoped that would go some way to mending fences with her technically former colleagues. She wasn't one to thrive on discord.
Vivian poured a large glass of whiskey for himself. "I'm going to need this to get through the afternoon in this crowd," Vivian said dolefully. "The stalwart belief in inherent superiority is practically dripping on the floor."
"I thought inherent superiority would be something you would loyally subscribe to," she said, unable to help herself, while at the same time glancing over to see if Mr. Holmes was observing her. His attention seemed to be on his lordship.
Vivian made the sound of a cat's growl and smiled wickedly. "Careful, Miss Sparks, your working-class resentment is showing through."
Now Dory really did feel like punching him, but she calmed herself. "Pointing out your foibles is hardly resentment, simply an observation."
"Is there a problem?" Mr. Holmes said, appearing next to Dory. How had he moved so quickly?
"Oh, go away Holmes. I don't need you to work my mouth for me."
Mr. Holmes had no choice but to walk away when ordered and Dory burned with embarrassment. "Thank you so much. My position here is hard enough without you making it worse."
Lifting an olive to his mouth, he pulled the wooden spear out and bit—not unlike what he was doing to her relationship with the other staff. That was the thing with Vivian Fellingworth, he didn't care about the consequences to other people from his actions. It was all about him. "I wasn't aware your position was hard."
"Didn't you hear? I was fired."
"Then why are you still here?"
"Because your aunt hired me again. Now, go away." She would literally push him away if she couldn't feel Mr. Holmes attention burning into her back. Grabbing an empty decanter of cognac, she walked out of the room before Vivian had the opportunity to sully her standing further.
Clara was downstairs, ironing a tuxedo and Dory headed straight for her. "Are you sure Vivian Fellingworth wasn't giving Nora a hard time?"
"What do you mean?" Clara said, letting the iron rest on the heating plate.
"Teasing, prodding, generally making a nuisance of himself."
"Is that what he's doing to you?"
Was there a point in denying it? "Yes."
Clara pursed her lips for a moment as if contemplating something. "Not that I ever saw. Shortly before… you know, Nora's unfortunate demise, I saw no interest in her coming from him. Truthfully, he wasn’t around a lot and before that, there was a married woman he was flirting with around Christmas time."
Dory rolled her eyes. Of course he would flirt with a married woman. "From around here?"
"No, she was up from London. I don't recall seeing he
r before. She was slightly older, and she and Vivian… well, you got the feeling they knew each other more intimately. Just little touches here and there. Nothing overt. But I saw nothing between him and Nora. And she disappeared every spare moment."
"Did you hear that George saw her cycling up on the Common Road?"
"He might have mentioned it."
"What was she doing up there?"
Clara shrugged. "Haven't a clue."
"She was going somewhere, but to where?"
"Maybe she was meeting Michael?" Clara added.
"No, I don’t think so. In fact, he didn't even seem to know about it at all."
"She must have been meeting someone."
Vivian? Dory asked in her mind. Was there some cottage up that way?
"Miss Sparks," Mr. Holmes deep voice sounded from the doorway. Wonderful, she had been caught questioning again. "A word."
With an internal wince, she followed him out into the hall.
"About your relationship with certain members of the family," he started.
"I have no relationship with anyone other than Lady Pettifer," Dory cut in, unable to hold back her frustration. "Vivian Fellingworth has set himself on teasing me. I have not invited it or asked for it in any way."
Mr. Holmes considered her with hard eyes. "It is inappropriate."
"I completely understand," she said. "But I have very little influence with him. If you find some way of telling him to stop, I would be much obliged."
"Probably best to stay clear," he said with a sniff. "It is unseemly him spending any part of a gathering conversing with a member of the staff." Why was he telling her this? What was she supposed to do about it? Dory was losing her patience. Patience was a virtue, but it was one she hadn't readily mastered.
"And how would you like me to deal with it when he does? Should I run away? Refuse to answer his questions?"
"No, of course not. Just act with some decorum."
Gritting her teeth together, she tried to smile. Decorum? How had she ever not acted with decorum?
Mr. Holmes gave her a pointed look to accentuate his point and Dory fought her mounting frustration as he turned to walk away.
"Mr. Holmes," she said with a nod. With a growling exhale, Dory turned to be surprised by a figure in the doorway. DI Ridley, standing there as though he'd just observed the whole exchange.
"And what type of questions are Vivian Fellingworth putting to you?" The expression on his face was indeterminable again, the way it was when he interrogated. Dory blushed, unable to bring herself to state that he'd asked her to join him in his room, or offered her leisurely rides in his car.
"He has just developed a habit of teasing me," Dory said and Ridley remained quiet that way he did, as if driving people to speak further. She refused. "No one I've spoken to knows why Nora was on the Common Road."
"No, same for me."
"It's a shame she didn't have a diary where she wrote all her thoughts down. That would make everything so much easier. Perhaps everyone should keep a diary, just in case."
"She didn't. I checked with her family and there was no diary with her effects."
"So there are two things we don't know—things she was doing or interested in, including what interested her with Michael's work, and what she was doing on the Common Road."
"Well, according to Michael Jones, she had asked about the work he'd done on one of the Wallisford estate cars," Ridley said. "He hadn't seen it as unusual at the time, her being curious about the work he did for the estate."
"Which was?"
"Nothing major. Some scratches on the paint."
"Scratches on paint," Dory repeated, her mind trying to make some sense of this. George and his incessant polishing came to mind. "Oh." She was disappointed, having hoped this would result in something more extraordinary.
"Not the first time one of the cars had been scratched up, either, according to Mr. Jones," Ridley continued. Blimey, scratching one of those cars must have been a firing offense for George. He must live in terror of scratching one of those fancy cars.
Taking his cigarette case out, he brought one out and tapped it before giving her a nod. He was going outside and Dory watched him for a moment, still trying to make sense of everything he’d departed. Well, that was one mystery that didn't seem to lead to any spectacular revelations.
Dory continued into the staff dining room, where she found George sitting with the paper. In all the rush of the house, he had nothing to do. No one was going anywhere and all the guests' cars were bedded down for the night.
"I heard you scratched one of the lordships cars a few months back," she said. "That must be devastating."
"Not me," he said, standing up and putting his jacket on. "I never hurt any of my babies."
"So there were no scratches?"
"Oh, there were some scratches alright, we had to repaint the whole panel, but I wasn't to blame. What do you take me for, an amateur?" Taking a last gulp of his coffee, he made to leave.
"Then who scratched it?"
"Not sure," he said with a shrug. "Had to be one of the family. No one else would drive those cars other than me. No one owned up, though."
"Did Nora know how to drive?"
"Not to save her life. Tell you the truth, she wasn't all that proficient on a bicycle either."
Chapter 23
The salon was deserted when Dory went upstairs again. Glasses were strewn on every surface and Dory started collecting them. Mr. Holmes was nowhere to be seen now, having gone wherever the lordship needed him to be, which was out on the lawn, judging by the sound of guns firing.
Over at the window, she saw the group outside, a few with cracked open guns resting on the crooks of elbows. They hadn't gone far, and were standing on the edge of the elevated section of the lawn. Others still had drinks, like Vivian did. He smoked a cigar, watching as the clay birds whizzed in the air, and the shooter missed. "Bird away," someone yelled.
Dory resumed collecting glasses, and when finished, she made her way upstairs to Lady Pettifer's room. "All that shooting is getting on my nerves," she said when Dory arrived. "They do seem to be enjoying themselves. When I was young, it wasn't uncommon that they would release actual pigeons to shoot."
"How grisly," Dory said with a grimace.
"It was, rather. Made an unbelievable mess. Poor birds. Creatures shouldn't die for the entertainment of others."
Dory couldn't help Nora entering her mind. She hoped Nora hadn't died for something so callous. Surely, no one could be that callous. There was evil in the world, but Dory had never really seen any. Sure, there were stupid people doing stupid things—petty things—but she had never really seen true cruelty and sheer disinterested callousness.
"How is Cedric doing?" Lady Pettifer asked, sitting at her dressing table.
Walking over to the window, Dory looked out, seeing him again standing next to his father. He had a gun resting over his arm. "It appears he has been shooting."
"Good," Lady Pettifer said. "He doesn't have the force of personality that Vivian does. But that is usually the way with eldest brothers. They are serious and composed, while the younger who doesn't carry the mantle of responsibility and tradition tend to flourish in different ways."
‘Flourish’ might not be the word Dory would use for Vivian Fellingworth, but the viewpoint of a loving aunt was very different. To a loving aunt, he was a mischievous scoundrel. Lady Pettifer seemed to actually enjoy his antics. Maybe because they were rarely aimed at her. They seemed to have a special relationship where he toned down his caustic nature. Lady Pettifer would be destroyed if it turned out that Vivian was responsible for something truly nefarious.
The sun gleamed in his blond hair. Yet again, he looked utterly golden, and to his aunt, he probably was. Dory snorted quietly. Cedric looked more serious. He was the older brother and carried the responsibility of the family and the title. The burden showed.
"I suppose Mr. Holmes is preparing the large table in
the stateroom," Lady Pettifer said. "It is always so cold in there, even in summer. The fire is never enough."
"I believe so." The stateroom was used for more formal occasions and had a larger table that sat two dozen people if need be. It was a sumptuous room, showing the interest in everything Egyptian by some previous generation of the family.
"You better go down and help. I will be fine on my own," Lady Pettifer said. "Just return around five and help me dress."
"Of course," Dory said and bobbed a small curtsy. Dory hadn't informed her about what she'd learned about the scratches on a car. She'd been too busy to and it didn't seem the right time to talk about such things. Because it related to a family member, it was more difficult to discuss, but then there were some scratches. What relation could that have to Nora's death?
Dory went downstairs and with shortness, Mrs. Parsons sent her to Mr. Holmes to see if there was any assistance he needed. As per usual, Mr. Holmes was on the main family floor, seeing to Lord Wallisford and his guests. Dory entered the entrance hall through the discreet servant's entrance disguised in the paneling of the wall.
The guests were entering and Dory stood back. Animated men were laughing after their shooting session and a faint smell of gunpowder filled the hall as they walked in with their guns. Most walked through to the parlor, where a new round of drinks was in order. Dory stood back.
Vivian eventually walked in, smoking a cigarette. He said something to a man who chuckled, then he spotted her. Walking over, he stood before her. "Put this away, will you," he said, handing her the gun. The double barrels were still warm and the weapon was heavy. "Just doing our bit to charm Cedric's way," he said tartly, taking dark leather gloves off, finger by finger. Somehow, he didn't show any urgency to move away.
"Good shooting?" she asked, feeling she needed to address the silence.
He shrugged. "Not bad, if I say so myself. Growing up here, you learn to shoot. Particularly shooting pigeons off the roof. They make a hell of a mess. You also learn to manage the driest of company." Looking resigned, he walked into the parlor, and Dory watched him go. For seeming so comfortable in the company around him, he professed to loathe it. Maybe it was the lack of attractive women. Dory shook her head and took herself and her charge off to the gun cupboard, which had been left unlocked.
