Murder at the Seaside Hotel: A 1920's Historical Cozy Mystery (An Evie Parker Mystery Book 5)

by Sonia Parin

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  He took a deep swallow and nodded.

  Evie waited for Edmonds to finish his drink before asking, “And what did you discover?”

  “I caught sight of the back of the motor car protruding from a side lane. So I stopped and walked toward it. I peered around the corner and didn’t see anyone in the motor car.”

  Evie looked up at Tom who stood near the window. “Mr. Addington must have gone to Findon to see someone.” Turning to Edmonds, she asked, “Did you see yellow roses in the garden?” She hadn’t noticed them on any of the other cottages except the one where Ruth Charles worked at.

  Edmonds nodded. “Yes, there were yellow roses in the house next door.”

  Evie tried to recall something significant about the house, something that would set it apart from the others. Something other than a profusion of yellow roses. “Tom, did you notice anything about that house?”

  He tapped his chin. “There was something hanging by the front door. Let me think…”

  “Oh, the light. It reminded me of the lights that used to hang by the side of the old horse drawn coaches.”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Oh, yes.” Edmonds nodded. “That’s the house. I think…”

  Tom and Evie reacted to the news in much the same way, both withdrawing into silence. How could they be sure Mr. Addington had gone to that house?

  Tom shifted and then turned to look out of the window.

  Evie folded her arms and tipped her chin down. She tossed around a few ideas and felt herself wince a couple of times at the absurdity of some of her thoughts. She even argued in favor of some of them. When she looked up, she saw both Caro and Edmonds watching her, their eyes slightly widened.

  “Will you all think I am on the verge of lunacy if I suggest Mr. Addington went to visit Ruth Charles?”

  “No,” Tom answered without hesitating. “But why would he do that?”

  “Heavens, it was puzzling enough when we made a forced connection between Mr. Prentiss and Mr. Addington. Now we have to add Ruth Charles to the plot that is already too thick for my liking. How am I ever going to convince the detective he needs to look into May Fields’ death? We have no solid proof of anything. But we do have a lot of…” Evie clicked her fingers.

  “Suspicions?” Tom suggested.

  “Yes, and a lot of circumstances we can’t explain.” Evie glanced at Edmonds. She had wanted to ask him for details of what he had seen when May Fields had fallen… jumped or been pushed to her death, but the man looked exhausted.

  Edmonds cleared his throat. “There is more…”

  Evie shifted to the edge of her seat. “I’m sorry. We must have cut you off with our silent musings.”

  “After I saw the motor car, I returned and moved the Duesenberg to the next street up where it couldn’t be spotted. Then I returned and waited in hiding.”

  Evie, Caro and Tom stared at Edmonds without blinking.

  Evie couldn’t help thinking about Tom’s earlier remark about her curiosity and eagerness to delve into the mysterious death being contagious.

  “I waited until the gentleman stepped out of the house. He hurried to his motor car and drove off. He came out of the house with the yellow roses.”

  It took a moment for Evie to realize they now had confirmation. Mr. Addington had visited Ruth Charles.

  Chapter 17

  “Detective Inspector O’Neill is not in his office. His secretary would not say when he would return.” Evie huffed out a breath. “I am trying to take the right steps and inform the police of our findings and they are being dreadfully inconsiderate.”

  “Unless, of course, the esteemed detective is out and about, actually doing his job and hunting down a criminal,” Tom suggested.

  “Yes, well… His timing could not be worse. What are we supposed to do with this information? If I don’t tell someone of authority about it, I fear my head will explode.” Evie scowled at the telephone. The person who had answered hadn’t even asked if Evie wished to leave a message.

  Rising to his feet, Tom walked to the door and held it open for her.

  Evie gave him a half-hearted smile. “I have no idea what the manager must be thinking about us needing to use his office with so much frequency.”

  “You needn’t worry about that. I told him you are in the midst of a dilemma that threatens to ruin your stay at the hotel and you wish to sort it out as soon as possible.”

  “I can only say I am blessed to have you, Caro and Edmonds with me. You are all watching my back and also making sure I don’t trip over my own feet.”

  Tom checked his watch. “It’s too late even for a late luncheon. Would you care for a stroll and some afternoon tea?”

  “Yes, a breath of fresh air will do me a world of good. I can’t think of anything better than to walk off my frustration.”

  Exiting the hotel manager’s office, Evie surged ahead and walked at a brisk pace. As she rounded the corner leading to the lobby she collided with a woman. Evie gasped. “I am so sorry. How clumsy of me.”

  The other woman muttered an apology, straightened and hurried away.

  Tom took Evie’s elbow and guided her toward the exit. Halfway along the lobby, they both turned and saw the woman disappearing into the library.

  “Tom, would I be imposing on you if I ask you to go see if she is meeting someone in the library? I have a feeling that might have been Mrs. Addington.”

  “Wait here for me.”

  Evie moved away from the door and went to stand near a window. She could see a few puffy clouds hovering in the distance but the day remained bright and sunny. Caro and Edmonds had been only too happy to step out and make the best of what remained of the afternoon.

  She was about to look back toward the library when she noticed a familiar motor car parked outside the hotel.

  The Rolls-Royce they had seen Mr. Addington driving.

  It had to be the same one…

  Tom returned and guided her outside. “The woman you bumped into was Mrs. Addington and she went into the library to meet Mr. Addington.”

  So… He had returned to the hotel. Evie pointed at the motor car. “Do you think that’s his Rolls?”

  “Most likely.”

  “I suppose they looked as cheerful as ever.”

  “Yes, they did.” Tom pushed out a hard breath. “Now I find myself trying to decipher the way they looked but I’m afraid my skills might not be as good as Caro’s observation skills. Her interpretation of the look she saw exchanged between Mr. Prentiss and Mr. Addington yielded positive results.”

  “Yes, positive but also perplexing,” Evie said. “What would a detective do with this information? The two men are staying at the same hotel. We haven’t seen them together and yet, during a brief encounter, they exchange a look that is enough to trigger Caro’s suspicions. Eventually, we are led to the discovery of another participant in this mystery.” Evie didn’t wait for Tom to answer. “I think a detective would haul Ruth Charles into the station and subject her to a severe line of questioning.”

  Evie fumed in silence. She had reached a point of feeling quite helpless. Scooping in a breath, she tried to clear her mind. “I suppose I should look around for some sort of memento to take back with me, some sort of proof I have been on vacation.” She drew in another breath only to gasp. “Heavens, what if Mr. Addington made a trip to Findon merely to express his condolences? I know it’s unlike me to find sympathy for one of my targets, but it is quite possible he meant to do nothing more than… well, what I did. If I think about it, we went to Findon for that very reason.”

  “Are you feeling better now?” Tom asked.

  Evie lifted her chin. “No, I believe I am trying to distract myself from being cross with Detective Inspector O’Neill. I’m sure he is doing his best to avoid me. I’m almost tempted to pay the local constabulary a visit but the prospect of another encounter with that dreadful man is enough to put me off the i
dea. Don’t you dare suggest we stop somewhere for a cup of tea. I am still burdened by a great deal of unnecessary frustration.”

  Tom looked around. “I wonder if there is a shooting gallery somewhere. It might do you a world of good to vent some of that frustration on a target. Or perhaps we could visit the library.”

  Evie pointed over her shoulder. “I’m sure the library is in the opposite direction.”

  “So it is.”

  “Actually, where are we going?” Looking around, she saw some people strolling along in the same direction but most were headed the other way, toward the pier.

  “I’ve had a couple of brief conversations with the concierge,” Tom said. “He tells me there have been many people of note staying or living in the area. Among them, the Chief Magistrate of the Bow Street office and head of the Bow Street Runners.”

  “Bow Street Runners?” Evie had heard of them. She searched her memory and remembered seeing mention of them in a story she’d read.

  “Yes, it was London’s first official police force back in the 1800s. I believe they disbanded in 1839. Anyhow, Sir Frederick Adair Roe settled in the area and lived in what is referred to as the Beach House. Mention of the name reminded me of something. Or, rather, someone.”

  “Are we headed there now?”

  “If I tell you, then that will spoil the surprise.”

  Evie smiled. “I’ll try to remember to act surprised.”

  “As I was saying, mention of the house triggered a memory. It finally came to me. The current owner is a playwright.”

  “Oh, Phillipa would have loved that. She will not stop berating herself for turning down the invitation to join us. I will simply have to remind her of her priorities.” Evie stopped. “Wait a minute. How do you know he’s a playwright?”

  Tom sighed. “It’s rather a long story.”

  “Are we going to meet him?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. This is your attempt to distract me. We are going there to admire the architecture.”

  “You can do that, if you like. The owner is currently traveling but he has given permission for us to visit.”

  “Heavens. How did that happen? When did you organize it?” Evie glanced at Tom and saw him staring into the distance. “Is this one of your secrets?”

  “Not as such. I suppose you could say I have some connections. People who know people.”

  “That sounds rather vague.”

  “You’re right. I made the arrangements as a possible distraction. As for how I know him. Actually, I met him in London, at a bar.”

  “Did you happen to be waiting for me?”

  “I think so. I don’t recall exactly. You might have been at a dress fitting.”

  “And you were killing time at a bar?”

  Tom nodded. “He’d been visiting his sister in London. She’s a sculptress. Anyhow, we talked for over an hour and then he mentioned being a playwright. At the time, he was working on an adaptation of The Three Musketeers. Long story short, I have spent some of my recent waiting time productively.”

  “Waiting time? Oh, you mean… Your pacing in the lobby while waiting for me to be ready time.”

  “Yes, that’s it. I’m looking forward to seeing the house. Edward Knoblock…”

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s the playwright I mentioned. He purchased the house in 1917. I am told King Edward VII stayed at the house several times while visiting the previous owner, Sir Edmund Loder and his family.”

  “Oh, I wish you’d mentioned this before. We could have asked Caro and Edmonds to join us.”

  They steered away from the main street running alongside the beach and headed down a side street.

  “The house actually faces the beach, but the main entrance is on the other side,” Tom explained.

  Evie pointed ahead. “Oh, is that Caro and Edmonds? Yes, they’re waving.”

  Tom smiled.

  “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Did you ask them to meet us here?”

  “I might have.”

  “What else do you have up your sleeves?” Evie asked.

  “I guess you’ll just have to wait to find out.”

  “It seems I am the only one being kept in the dark. Look. Caro and Edmonds are walking off. That means they know where you are headed and are going to beat us to the house. I feel rather left out. What else have you planned for me?”

  “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”

  “For your information, I have just come to realize I do not like surprises.”

  Tom laughed. “That’s because you like to be in charge.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about that observation.” After a moment, she said, “You think my frustration stems from the fact I haven’t been able to wield any control over the detective.”

  “I could not have expressed it better myself.”

  The impressive white building stood in the middle of a large park which extended all the way to the sea. Caro and Edmonds stood outside admiring the house.

  “Did Tom tell you about his surprise?” Caro asked.

  “No, he is making me wait.”

  The front door opened even before they reached it. Had they been expected?

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Winchester.”

  The butler knew Tom?

  “Good afternoon, Richards. Has he arrived?”

  “He has indeed. This way, please.”

  They followed the butler through to a sitting room beautifully furnished with pieces from a previous era. It seemed the owner was quite a collector of Regency furniture.

  “Lady Woodridge.”

  Evie swung toward the familiar voice. Her mouth gaped open. Such was her surprise, she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

  She looked at Tom who exclaimed, “Surprise!”

  Finally, Evie managed to say, “Detective.”

  Detective Inspector O’Neill looked rather pleased with himself. He shook hands with Tom and Edmonds and gave Caro a nod of acknowledgment.

  “Well, now that I’m here, would you care to fill me in on everything that has been happening?”

  Chapter 18

  “I’m still not over the surprise of finding you here,” Evie said. “When did this happen? How?”

  Everyone turned to Tom who gave a casual shrug. “The reason the detective couldn’t take your call was because he’d been making his way here. I telephoned him yesterday and explained the situation.”

  Evie pressed her hands to her cheeks. “And now you are here to solve the murder.”

  The detective nodded. “I am only here to look into it. You must understand, I find myself in a rather difficult situation. I cannot be seen to be treading on anyone’s toes.”

  “You won’t be,” Evie said. “The local police are not interested in investigating May Fields’ death.”

  “It’s quite possible they missed something.”

  Evie gave an unladylike snort. “As it is, we have made three connections which cannot be explained and we have several theories, which I believe are worth looking into.”

  “Tell me what happened from the beginning,” Detective O’Neill invited. “It will help me understand something about the initial police response. That is usually when they decide if there is a case or not.”

  “It might actually help us to know what you know first,” Evie said.

  Agreeing, the detective filled her in. He had spoken with his colleague at length. According to the local detective, his officers had failed to detect any sign of foul play. When Detective O’Neill went on to explain the next steps in any investigation, Evie shook her head.

  “I didn’t see any preservation of evidence. The guests remained in the same room. If there had been proof of a struggle it will all be gone now. The room has been cleaned every day since the incident took place.”

  “I would still like to hear your full version of the events as you saw them, my lady.”

  Evie accepted a cup of tea from the butler and took a qui
ck sip before telling the detective about all the theories they had been entertaining.

  “Sound theorizing is essential to any investigation,” he said, “but you, my dear Countess, have taken it one step further. I can see why you didn’t take your information to the local police. It all sounds fictional.”

  Evie wanted to protest, but Detective O’Neill had a point. “What about Mr. Addington’s visit to Ruth Charles?”

  “You said it yourself, my lady. Mr. Addington might have been expressing his condolences. You found out about Ruth Charles because you made a point of following up on your need to express your condolences. It’s quite possible Mr. Addington did the same.”

  Again, Evie wanted to protest, but the detective held up his hand. “However, I am interested in what your maid, Caro, saw. Have you heard more from your man of business?”

  Evie shook her head. “I expect he will contact me soon. He said he wanted to be thorough.”

  The detective looked out of the window. “This is a magnificent view.”

  Thinking everyone needed a break from her, Evie took the opportunity to look around the room. Her attention settled on a painting above the fireplace of a man in military uniform. She turned to Tom. “Is that the scriptwriter?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t tell me he had served in the war.”

  “Yes, he joined up right after he became a British citizen.”

  “Oh?”

  “He was actually born in New York.”

  Evie turned to the painting again. A while back, Tom had come up with a story about meeting a Duke at the Battle of the Somme. Evie knew there was more truth than fiction to his story because Tom had served in the Great War… “You said you met him at a bar but I’m guessing you knew him well before that encounter.”

  “I guess so.”

  The detective finished his tea and set his cup down. “Your man of business appears to have led you to make the first connection.”

  “Yes, he found out Mr. Prentiss had visited Findon. Tom and I took it from there and discovered Mr. Prentiss had spoken with May Fields. It is far too coincidental for her to then use his balcony to jump to her death.”