Mydworth Mysteries--Murder wore a Mask

by Matthew Costello

  “The poor chap,” Palmer said, stepping away, as if now thinking it best to keep his distance from his loyal aide.

  “I told Carmody… you don’t have to come to the party. With his condition and all.”

  Timms walked over, tilted his head back as if the angle would give a better look. Constable Thomas’s torch was still aimed at the body and the doctor, who looked like he might have a struggle standing up.

  “‘Condition’ you say, Mr Palmer?”

  “His heart, sergeant. Been worse lately. Those funny old rumblings.”

  From near the corpse, Dr Bedell added, “Palpitations?”

  “Yes. But dear Carmody, wanted to be at my side. So bloody loyal.”

  Bedell strained to get to a standing position, placing one hand on a knee for leverage.

  The mud here was a good half-inch deep – shoes ruined.

  “Officer,” Bedell said, “please, if you would be so kind as to aim your torch at Mr Carmody’s face.”

  Constable Thomas did so, and Harry saw something that he had seen before.

  “Note that bit of colour… at the cheeks… around the mouth?” said Bedell. “Purplish blue. All the signs of drastic heart failure. The man probably came out here, seeking some air. Then, well, it was his time.”

  At this, Lavinia took some muddy steps closer.

  “Harry. Do you think I should send everyone away?”

  Harry looked at Kat, a certain absurd quality to all of them standing out here, by the lake, gathered around an old man felled by his heart.

  But before he could answer: “Lady Lavinia, Constable Thomas and I will see to Mr Carmody here,” said Timms. If that suits you, Mr Palmer.”

  “Of course, sergeant,” said Palmer. “You’ll need to let me check Mr Carmody’s pockets too, lest there might be any papers on him. Government business, you know.”

  “Yes sir,” said Timms. Then, turning to Lavinia, “I think m’lady, there’s no reason at all to discomfort your guests.”

  Lavinia still looked at Harry. Waiting on his response.

  “Makes sense, Aunt Lavinia. Things like this happen. Party still going strong. So yes, we can soldier on.” He looked down to the body in the mud. “Raise a glass to the fallen.”

  Lavinia nodded, perhaps – Harry thought – relieved. Would be more of a mess to abruptly end things than let the party run on, albeit it at a lower boil.

  And then, as they were about to walk back to the manor house, he turned.

  To see Kat. Standing quietly, close to the body, looking down. Then around – at the house, the lake, the grotto.

  What’s my Kat thinking? he wondered.

  5. A Morning Visit from Aunt Lavinia

  Harry was still trying to figure out how the various bits and pieces of the percolator came together, when he heard a knock on the front door.

  The coffee was much needed on a morning like this, but the knocking was much more demanding than the recalcitrant coffee maker.

  He hurried to the door, his dark blue robe open over pyjamas; the belt somehow gone astray, surely to be located later.

  “Yes, yes,” he said, opening the door a little and peering round – annoyed that the challenge of the coffee pot had to be deferred – to see his Aunt Lavinia, dressed in slacks, a crisp cream-coloured blouse, her hair pinned up, no hat.

  Somewhat different from whatever Venetian she was supposed to be the night before.

  “Aunt Lavinia. I thought, after last night, and all the aftermath, we wouldn’t be seeing you stir till noon.”

  She made a small smile at that.

  And as if to prod – Harry perhaps seeming sluggish though it was hardly the crack of dawn – she said, “Mind if I come in, my dear?”

  “Oh, of course. I mean, absolutely.”

  He pulled the door open, adding: “Would you like some tea? Think we have some biscuits from yesterday, and—”

  At that, he saw Kat emerge from their bedroom, drawn by the sound. Her silky gown and robe, pulled tight. Altogether fetching, he thought, even the morning after.

  “Aunt Lavinia. Good morning.”

  “Yes, yes. Harry, now, do see to that tea. And Kat, I’m so glad you are up. Both of you need to hear what I have to say.”

  Harry still hadn’t moved towards any tea preparations. This visit did not bode well.

  “Something else happen last night, Aunt Lavinia? I mean after we left? Seemed that post-Carmody’s collapse the party was still going full steam?”

  “Yes. Well, bring me that tea and I shall tell you.”

  *

  Kat was pleased Lavinia wanted to share her story with her. Harry’s aunt seemed to be – albeit slowly – warming to Kat.

  From the look on Lavinia’s face, it must be serious.

  She sat down in a kitchen chair while Harry wrestled with the electric kettle, a device he was still getting used to. She also noted the dismembered parts of the percolator that, with coffee not being such a priority in this country, he had not yet learned to master.

  “Aunt Lavinia, did everyone stay up terribly late?”

  “Oh yes, Kat. I mean, not unexpected. Benton and the staff were good enough to stay at their posts until the last house guest retired. The locals stumbled back into town I imagine, while those heading back to London of course left much earlier. I intend to reconsider the whole ‘house guest’ thing. Such an effort! Must always sort them a bedroom, and one for their staff if they bring any! Feed them on and on, like noisy chicks in a nest.”

  At that, Lavinia made a small smile. “So much work for such a little party.”

  Kat smiled back. She had learned that Lavinia – who had raised Harry since he was a small boy – was not unlike her. Strong opinions, but backed with a steely resolve to get things done, and more importantly, have a good time doing it, no matter what people might say.

  She guessed that attitude was becoming more common in this country, just as back in the States, independent women were popping up all over the place.

  Good thing too.

  The steady whistle from the nearby kitchen signalled that Harry had the tea well in hand.

  He soon appeared with a steaming tea pot, three cups and saucers, and a plate of cookies, biscuits, that Kat hoped hadn’t turned too crumbly since yesterday.

  “There!” Harry said. “Got the milk and sugar too. Aren’t I the domesticated one? Now, Lavinia, while it is always a pleasure to have you visit us, perhaps… to the reason?”

  Kat saw Harry’s aunt take a deep breath.

  “Yes, well – this is what happened…”

  *

  “Rather later than planned, well after midnight, I had the maids arrange things for that card-hunting game.”

  “Oh, that one. Good fun. Usually.”

  Kat’s confused look to him prompted, “Oh, you see, tradition has it, always a game or two at the end of a party. This one involves a deck of cards, the individual cards secreted around the house.”

  “Some outside too,” Lavinia added.

  “And people search high and low, avoiding private areas, of course. Then they can get into teams, and match cards to see—”

  “Yes, yes, Harry we don’t need all the rules for it. And the game is not the important thing.”

  “Something happened during the game?”

  Lavinia fixed her nephew with a stare. “Did you perhaps overdo it a bit last night, Harry?”

  “Never a morning person, dear Aunt. So—?”

  “Right.” And again, she looked straight at Kat. “I wasn’t playing the game, just overseeing, when that newspaper publisher—”

  “Horatio Forsyth,” Harry added. “Henry the Eighth, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes. Came up to me. Pulled me aside. I mean, literally. His eyes wide. Well, I have seen fear before. And in those eyes… definitely a healthy dose of fear.”

  Kat noted that Lavinia’s words had produced a sudden change in her husband. Lips set, eyes locked on her.

&nb
sp; “He walked me – almost dragged me – to the alcove that leads down to the servants’ staircase. And then—”

  “Go on,” said Harry.

  “He said he had something important to tell me about Mr Carmody’s death.”

  Kat caught Harry’s quick glance across at her.

  Serious. Concerned.

  “Well, you can imagine how that made me feel,” said Lavinia.

  And Kat could. One night in Istanbul, she had barely fallen asleep when there was a noise. Someone in her apartment, perhaps having gained entry from the wide-open window, the night hot.

  Kat had got up then, heart pounding. Aware that there was someone there. That there was now something to fear.

  But with the flick of a light, the intruder, knowing that he had been discovered, stumbled out again.

  And for the next night, Kat made sure her Colt revolver was just tucked under her bed, a quick and easy grab should she need it.

  “Aunt Lavinia, what exactly did Mr Forsyth say? What was he afraid of?” Kat asked.

  “He said that — and these are his precise words – whoever did that to Carmody knew that he and Carmody were up to something together.”

  “I see,” Harry said.

  “He also said that whoever did it will be coming for him next!”

  “And what was the connection?” said Kat

  Lavinia nodded. Took a sip of tea. Then…

  *

  “Of course, I stopped the man right there. Told him, with all these people staying in my house, best I didn’t know whatever it was he was referring to. Then I mentioned, well you two. Your… special talents in this area.”

  “And the old newspaper man was fine with that? You telling us?”

  “Yes. He definitely did not want the police involved, that’s for sure.”

  “People rarely do, I’m beginning to find.”

  “Lavinia,” Kat said, “you’d like us to look into this?”

  At that Lavinia stood up.

  “Please. I mean Forsyth may have some dreadful secret. Of course, to any sane person, it would seem that Carmody, with his heart history, simply keeled over. Quod erat demonstrandum.”

  “Still got your Latin, I see,” Harry said, now standing as well. Then: “I think – once we’ve had a bite to eat – we’ll be glad to start poking around in things.”

  “I knew I could rely on you two. Now, I imagine people up at the house will soon start stirring for breakfast. One or two are already out riding. Then I gather there’s something of a tennis tournament scheduled.”

  She took Kat’s hand.

  “You play, yes, Kat? Perhaps you will join us? Might prove useful.”

  Kat smiled. “Certainly.”

  “Let’s not forget that I, too, know how to wield a racquet,” Harry said.

  And at that finally Lavinia managed a relieved smile.

  “Of course you do, dear Harry. I must tell you both,” she said, as she turned headed for the front door, “you agreeing to do this, why already it’s a tremendous load off my shoulders.”

  “Glad to help,” Harry said, hurrying to open the door for his aunt.

  “Now back to my house full of people. Still so many people.”

  And Kat watched as Lavinia made her way round the side of the Dower House to the winding country path that connected the two homes.

  Could have taken the car, Kat thought.

  But then… people noticing, asking questions.

  This way, nice and tidy and secret.

  One savvy woman.

  Then as Harry shut the door.

  “What do you think, Sir Harry?”

  “I think – Lady Mortimer – we may just have another case to solve.”

  “A case of… murder?”

  “That remains to be seen. Now please, can your more experienced hands wrestle the percolator into submission? And then we’ll get cracking.”

  6. Footsteps on the Grass

  Kat reached out and stopped Harry just as he was about to open the grand front door to Mydworth Manor.

  “Harry, how about – before we talk to Forsyth – we go take a look, down where the grotto is? I mean, last night no one was thinking anything. Now—”

  “In the light of day, a hint of suspicion in the air?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Lead on.”

  They walked around the house and took the gravel path down to where a lush green carpet of grass hugged close to the small lake, just north of the main grounds, leading to the grotto.

  *

  Harry knelt down, looking at the churned-up mud at the water’s edge made by all the people who had stomped about here last night.

  He looked up at Kat. “Going to take Grayer quite a bit of work to get this patch looking like it hasn’t been turned into cow pasture.”

  He saw Kat looking around, to the east where the lake ended and the grass trailed off into the rising hills where Harry had loved to play when he was young.

  He and his pals would run around, playing at being soldiers as they hid behind giant rocks and climbed trees – not knowing that, for nearly all of them, the real thing was not too far away.

  And that only a few would return.

  Kat turned and looked back to where they had come from.

  “You, m’lady, are having some thoughts, yes?”

  She nodded. “That I am. I mean, this grotto, it’s a long way from the house.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. Bit of a refuge. Sit there, book of poetry in your lap. Rather peaceful, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, but that’s just it.”

  Kat, seemingly unconcerned that her leather laced-up boots were turning a darker brown as they sank into the mud, took a step towards him.

  “Go on,” said Harry.

  Another step. And now with the late morning sun hitting his wife squarely in her face, making each angle stand out, her blue eyes glistening, she faced him directly and said, “That’s just it. Carmody, maybe not feeling all that well, wants some air. But why on earth…?”

  “Walk this far?”

  “Precisely. It’s a long walk from the party in the dark. Especially when you’re not feeling well.”

  “Doesn’t add up.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Suspicious?”

  At that Kat shrugged. “Curious. Odd. No easy explanation.”

  “Well, we are a little early in this investigation.”

  “Is that what it is?”

  “Time will tell, my dear, but… hang on…”

  “What?”

  Harry had noticed something, the sun at a high enough angle that he could make out the ripples and lines in the churned-up mud.

  “Do step carefully for a minute. But follow me.”

  He stepped over the mess of jumbled footprints to where he saw just one set of footprints. He stopped and Kat followed suit.

  “Harry, what is it?”

  He pointed where the footprints led away from the muddy jumble.

  “Notice anything?”

  Kat paused, right at his shoulder. “These prints here. One set. Heading off in that direction, away from us. Not directly back to the house.”

  “Unlike the other ones,” he said.

  “Yes. So who would do that, with the body on the ground, and the police on the scene? No one could just walk away, unnoticed. Someone would have seen them. Don’t you think?”

  Harry stood up.

  “That I do. Which means–”

  “The footsteps were made before anyone discovered the body of Wilfred Carmody.”

  “Makes sense,” he said. “But I’d wager if we follow the prints, they’ll disappear as soon as we get away from the mud, and onto the grass. Then… who knows where they went?”

  He watched Kat scan the lake, the grass, then back to the grotto.

  “It might also mean,” she said, “that when Carmody came down here, he was not alone.”

  “He came down here to meet somebody.”


  “Exactly,” Kat said. “You know, for a warm morning, that thought just gave me quite a chill.”

  “Me too, I must admit. Though quite how you give someone a heart attack on cue…”

  “Can be done,” said Kat, her face now serious. “So I’ve heard.”

  Harry nodded, knowing that Kat, in her years working for the American government, had experience of the darker side of the diplomatic arts.

  As indeed had he, in service with His Majesty’s Diplomatic Corps.

  “In which case, perhaps I should phone Dr Bedell, ask him to take a discreet look at the body.”

  “And order an autopsy.”

  “That too,” said Harry, “but in the meantime, worth a careful inspection here for signs of anything untoward.”

  “I agree,” said Kat. “You know, I just remembered something from last night. Not sure it’s important.”

  “I’m sure it is,” said Harry.

  He looked at Kat, the morning sun catching her hair.

  This conversation so incongruous.

  “Just after we arrived, I saw Forsyth arguing with someone out on the lawn. Someone in a monk’s robe, like Carmody’s.”

  “Funny you say that,” said Harry. “I saw a monk in a hurry on the staircase last night. Course, always hard to tell one monk from another. And in a mask, well…”

  “Perfect set-up to kill somebody, wouldn’t you say? Masks, disguises…”

  “Indeed,” he said, wiping his muddy shoes against the grass. “Well this idea of yours – coming down here – jolly productive. Shall we see the state of play up at the house?”

  “By all means.”

  And Harry walked beside Kat.

  For now they were silent, though he guessed she had to be thinking the same as him.

  What on earth actually happened last night?

  Had Carmody been murdered?

  If so, why?

  And how?

  *

  Kat followed Harry up the steps onto the rear terrace of Mydworth Manor, and through the French windows into the house.

  She could see that the staff had already been busy cleaning and tidying. Last night’s Venetian decorations were all gone, and the floors looked freshly swept and polished.

  Maids and footmen – they had to be weary! – still scurried back and forth, carrying trays – presumably for those guests still in their bedrooms.