The Sleuthing Starlet Mysteries

by Bianca Blythe

  “I thought people would be impressed that I’d married a star,” Edmund said stiffly. “But people weren’t impressed. They were appalled that she’s American. Appalled that she didn’t know anyone in British high society. They said she’d caught me instead of the other way around.”

  A wave of irritation swept through Cora. “You did make a good catch. Veronica is Hollywood royalty. She’s clever and talented and beautiful and—”

  Lady Audrey’s face whitened. “Don’t pay attention to her,” she said to Edmund. “She’s Veronica’s best friend. Naturally she would be biased.”

  Edmund nodded uneasily.

  Cora was struck by how weak Edmund was, how easily swayed.

  Was that the personality that the late duke despised? Had Lady Audrey used him for her purposes, ensuring that he would inherit a dukedom and abandon his wife in order for her to become a duchess?

  “Why did you help him?” Cora asked Lady Audrey.

  Lady Audrey closed her eyes. Snowflakes fell onto her lashes. The pristine color seemed at odds with an imagination that had plotted two deaths and likely had already construed a premature end for Cora herself.

  “Love,” Lady Audrey said simply. She smirked. “But you wouldn’t understand. You accused your love interest of murder and had him locked in a tower.”

  Edmund chuckled. “We didn’t expect that. That was good news for us.”

  Lady Audrey joined his laughter, and for a moment, they seemed every bit as doting as any couple, one whose conversations were devoted

  to news items and pleasantries from their days, rather than carrying out vile murders during the time in which they were not in each other’s arms.

  “I wasn’t the only person who suspected him,” Cora huffed. “He was suspicious. And he’s not my love interest.”

  “You mean, you haven’t bedded him yet?” Lady Audrey gave a languid stretch. “How delightfully dull. I was under the impression that American prudishness was a Midwestern phenomenon and didn’t stretch to the Pacific. But I suppose Los Angeles is small compared to cosmopolitan London.”

  Cora pressed her lips together. “Don’t insult Los Angeles.”

  Lady Audrey and Edmund chuckled.

  “Well, it was a trifle inconvenient that you crowned Randolph the murderer,” Lady Audrey said. “That honor was supposed to belong to Veronica.”

  “That’s why you used her gramophone and record,” Cora said.

  Veronica had been right. She would have been accused.

  “A divorce is less scandal inducing than a hanging, even if it is generally more expensive,” Edmund said.

  “You would go through a divorce?” Cora asked. “That hardly seems proper.”

  “People will laud his good sense,” Lady Audrey said quickly, shooting Cora a warning glance. “Besides, likely Edmund will be able to get an annulment. The duke did the most helpful research into that process before he died.”

  “So what do you mean to do?” Cora asked. “Tie me up to a tree?”

  “No.” Lady Audrey’s eyes flashed. “The moat is frozen—but not entirely. And everyone knows her attempt to ski was pitiful.”

  She gave a cruel laugh, and Cora bristled.

  “A not-too-clever American,” Lady Audrey said, “might be confused. She might think she could cut across the moat. It would be tragic. But not impossible.”

  “They wouldn’t think that,” Cora said.

  But she knew in her heart that they would.

  She’d seen the moat.

  If they threw her into a hole in the ice... She shivered. She was already cold. And to be plunged into icy water, struggling to get back out. Her heart tightened.

  “Somebody may witness it,” Cora said.

  “I doubt it. They were eager to leave. And if anyone sees anything, they’ll think we were trying to rescue you.”

  “You can confess,” Cora said. “You might go to jail...”

  “We would hang,” Edmund said. “No, I assure you. We will certainly not confess to anything. We can bear the brunt of any guilt.”

  “I assure you we won’t feel much,” Lady Audrey said. “You needn’t comfort yourself by imagining us tortured for the rest of our lives. We’ll have money and lovely titles.”

  “But you,” Cora said. “How can you be with this man who just murders people?”

  Lady Audrey laughed. “They were my ideas.”

  Edmund squeezed her hand.

  “My advice has gotten more complicated since the duke asked me for help as a child on how to build a tree house, but I still provide it.”

  “My darling,” Edmund said, and Cora’s stomach tensed.

  The castle turrets were in view.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Edmund halted the sleigh and tied the horses to a tree.

  “Come on, Miss Clarke,” Lady Audrey said. “We’re going on a walk. Enjoy the pleasant view. It will be the last thing you see.”

  Randolph.

  Randolph was locked in the manor house.

  His room should overlook them. He was locked in...but the place did have windows. Could he climb out?

  Cora told herself she was being ridiculous.

  Of course he couldn’t help her.

  “Randolph!” Cora shouted, unwilling to give up, as they neared the manor house.

  “Be quiet.” Lady Audrey slapped her. Her look was icy, as if striving to resemble the ice in the perilous moat. “I think it’s time for your fall.”

  Sharp wind swept over Cora. She was wearing a coat and she was already freezing.

  Perhaps she could run.

  Yes.

  She could run.

  There were two of them, but she would have to try.

  She jumped from the sleigh and into the snow.

  Her legs burned, and her feet slid on the slick ground.

  The snow was so heavy.

  Heavens.

  This was utterly dreadful.

  And not working.

  She heard footsteps and curses behind her.

  “Get her,” Lady Audrey yelled.

  Cora’s heart sped, and she struggled on this new terrain.

  She’d only seen snow for the first time this week.

  And now she was rushing about in it.

  The snow reached past her knees. The ground was not sturdy, and she moved far too slowly.

  In the next moment, she felt strong arms reach against her. She was lifted up and was being carried toward the moat.

  “Randolph!” Cora screamed again, hoping against hope. “Help!”

  A gloved hand covered her mouth.

  She looked desperately for a servant, but everyone had left.

  No one was going to rescue her.

  Just like no one had rescued Gladys.

  And no one had rescued the duke who’d died in his own bed, at the hand of his own son.

  Cora kept her eyes open.

  Was this the last light she would see?

  The last snow, the last sky, the last wall, the last—

  The last moment of life.

  Her heart continued to race, and then she flew through the air and plunged into icy water.

  She struggled to swim despite her heavy coat.

  The water stung her eyes. She tried to see, tried to orient herself.

  It must be so dirty—though that was the least of her concerns.

  Her lungs burned. She needed air.

  She tried to swim up—but where was the surface?

  Panic flayed through her. There was only ice around her.

  Her lungs—

  Cora moved up, breaking through the surface.

  It was air.

  She inhaled, gasping, but in the next moment, a hand pushed her back into the water.

  This was it, this was the end.

  A splash sounded in the distance.

  Poor Randolph would hang for the murder of Gladys and the Duke of Hawley if they didn’t decide to continue framing Veronica.

 
Horror rushed through her, and once again, her lungs burned.

  There was no hope.

  She needed to get free.

  She needed to warn them.

  She kicked hard, trying to find her way to the surface, but she was so tired, so cold, her lungs ached, and—

  A strong hand grabbed onto Cora.

  She was being dragged up to the surface, toward the light, toward life itself.

  She broke through the barrier, dodging the floating ice.

  Cora inhaled.

  “I have you,” a voice said.

  “Randolph?”

  “What do you think you are doing?” Edmund said.

  “Rescuing her,” Randolph said. “You animal.”

  In the next moment, Randolph struck Edmund on his jaw, and they tumbled into the snow together.

  Cora’s heart raced. Where was Lady Audrey?

  She was approaching.

  Rushing to stop them.

  Rushing to help her lover.

  Cora wasn’t going to let that happen.

  With all her remaining strength, Cora yanked hold of Lady Audrey’s leg and pulled her downward.

  She was still coughing, still sputtering—and now Lady Audrey was on top of her.

  That was perhaps a mistake.

  Lady Audrey was strong, and iron arms gripped around Cora’s body.

  Cora was still disoriented from the experience of being submerged in the icy moat.

  She’d thought she was going to die.

  Cora was too close to the moat now, and she struggled against her assailant.

  “Help,” Cora screamed. “Help!”

  “What on earth is this racket?” a new voice boomed.

  Wexley.

  Hope rushed through Cora.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” Edmund said. “This man escaped.”

  “No!” Cora exclaimed. “The duke is the murderer!”

  “Nonsense—” Edmund said, but Randolph took the opportunity to strike a blow to the duke’s jaw.

  “That’s enough.” The butler strolled into the snow, not seeming to mind that his livery was being destroyed.

  He yanked Randolph away from Edmund.

  “Inside. Both of you. Now.” The butler glowered at them. “We are going to wait for the police to arrive.”

  “Yes,” Edmund said. “Thank you. I’ll go see if I can find them.” He jerked a finger at Randolph. “This man needs to be locked up again.”

  “No,” Cora shrieked again.

  “I can explain everything,” Randolph said.

  The butler removed a pistol and directed it at them. “I don’t know whom to believe.”

  “Wexley!” Edmund said, clearly shocked. “Is that one of my pistols?”

  The butler blushed. “Forgive me, your grace, but after poor Gladys’s murder it occurred to me that I would feel rather safer with that in my breast pocket.”

  “But you stole.”

  “Borrowed,” Wexley said. “And we are still on the premises.”

  “Well, stop pointing it at me,” Edmund sputtered.

  Wexley retained a steady grip on the pistol. “I’m sorry, your grace. But I’m not going to take anyone’s side without knowing all the facts.”

  “That does make sense,” Lady Audrey said smoothly. “Would you like me to fetch the police? Obviously I would never have killed anyone.” She laughed.

  “Don’t believe her,” Cora said quickly.

  “I won’t,” Wexley said. “Miss Clarke, please change from those wet clothes. And bring blankets for everyone.”

  Cora nodded and hurried away, her teeth chattering fiercely.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, but could not have been long, the others arrived.

  “What’s going on here?” Veronica asked, entering the foyer.

  “I am afraid that your husband is a murderer,” Cora said.

  “Nonsense, darling.” Veronica smiled. “Tell her it’s nonsense.”

  “Of course it is,” Edmund said.

  “I beg to differ,” Randolph said.

  Veronica frowned. “Why is your hair wet, Cora? You didn’t even want to go outside and now you seemed to have gone swimming?”

  “Your husband pushed her in the water,” Randolph said.

  “You don’t tend to be clumsy, Edmund,” Veronica said.

  “It was an intentional push,” Cora said, her voice breaking.

  Veronica stopped. “You’re being serious?”

  “He killed Gladys and his father, and when he knew I’d found out—he wanted to kill me.”

  “But—”

  For once in her life, Veronica seemed entirely devoid of words.

  “Lady Audrey was his accomplice,” Randolph said.

  Mr. Ardingley narrowed his eyes. “Wexley, I can direct this gun at him. I always knew I was the better son.”

  “Perhaps you might find some rope to tie him up with, sir,” Wexley suggested.

  Mr. Ardingley grinned. “You’re a good man.”

  Soon both Lady Audrey and Edmund were tied up.

  “How could you have killed your own father?” the dowager duchess asked. “What could possess you?”

  Edmund scowled. “Don’t carry on lying, Mother. I know he’s not my real father. I know Signor Palombi is truly my father.”

  “My darling boy,” said the dowager duchess. “The duke was your father.”

  “Nonsense,” Edmund said. “You can tell me.”

  “But it’s true.”

  “I know that Signor Palombi was your lover,” Edmund said. “I saw a picture of him in your room.”

  The dowager blinked. “You went through my private things?”

  “I was suspicious. You were so happy to see him. You’re never happy about anything.”

  “But you didn’t read the back of the photograph?”

  “It’s not my fault you never taught me Czech,” Edmund said.

  “I imagine your father is regretting his decision to not let me do so,” Lady Denisa said the dowager. “Mr. Palombi and I are relations. We have recently rekindled our acquaintanceship, but I assure you that there is nothing romantic about it.”

  “But you spoke in private.”

  “About our country.” The dowager swallowed. “Recent news has made me nostalgic. Our country is sadly fragmenting. Yes, I invited him for Christmas, but only because I couldn’t stand the thought of him spending Christmas alone in a new country in a hotel.”

  “And why pretend to be Italian?” Edmund asked.

  The dowager and Signor Palombi glanced at each other. Cora wondered how much they might share.

  “I left Czechoslovakia years ago, and so did my cousin,” explained the dowager duchess.

  Edmund’s face paled, and his mother’s shoulders seemed to relax.

  “Archibald enjoyed the open space here,” Signor Palombi said.

  Mrs. Ardingley frowned. “He made good use of the hallways.”

  Mr. Ardingley raised his eyebrows.

  “One notices the floor in great detail when one is compelled to wheel oneself on top of it,” Mrs. Ardingley murmured.

  “I’m glad those days are behind you.” Mr. Ardingley kissed the top of his wife’s head.

  Mrs. Ardingley’s brother-in-law might just have committed two gruesome murders, but that did not seem to encroach upon the rekindling of her relationship with the murderer’s brother.

  Perhaps one day things can truly be normal again.

  “Wait.” Edmund blinked several times, and his Adam’s apple moved up and down rapidly, as if his throat had been drained of all moisture. “You mean to say,” he said, his voice breaking, though he barreled on, “that I murdered my own father.”

  “Yes, my child,” said his mother.

  “And he wasn’t going to take away my inheritance?”

  “He never mentioned it.”

  “It was the right thing to do, darling,” Lady Audrey said. “We were so close to being together forever. And y
ou would have had the money so much sooner.”

  “My late husband was not in good health,” the dowager said. “You should have let him live.”

  Edmund raked a hand through his hair. “Oh, Lord.”

  “Prayers will hardly work.” Mrs. Ardingley sniffed. “I cannot believe you would have behaved so appallingly. After that expensive education too! How tragic that the duke never learned how superior my husband was to you.”

  “I’m sure he knew at the end, my dear.” Mr. Ardingley squeezed his wife’s hand.

  Edmund’s face seemed to turn a shade of green.

  Cora wondered what sort of dubious deals with Germany had been halted because of Edmund’s action. Perhaps Edmund had unwittingly aided various resistance movements against the rapidly rising National Socialists.

  “I’m sorry,” Edmund murmured.

  “You almost killed me,” Cora said. “You tried very hard to kill me. And you did kill Gladys.”

  “The maid?” Edmund shrugged. “She wasn’t important.”

  “Because she wasn’t a family member?”

  “Because she was a servant,” Edmund said, shaking his head. “These Americans.”

  “She didn’t deserve to die,” his mother admonished.

  Edmund shrugged. “Her death is inconsequential. No problems will be caused by her absence. If anything, it will give the housekeeper a chance to hire someone more appropriate.”

  “She was a sweet girl,” Veronica said, and then sighed. “A true fan.”

  “As if you didn’t find her irritating,” Lady Audrey said. “Far too talkative.”

  The duchess frowned. “I will not tolerate you spending the rest of your time tarnishing that poor girl’s memory.”

  “And yet you had another maid. It’s not tarnishing when it’s the truth,” Edmund said valiantly, and Lady Audrey smiled, her gaze somehow managing to remain adoring.

  “I’ve had my lady’s maid for years,” the duchess said regally. “A fact of which you are well aware, and which you should not choose to conveniently forget. That girl left her family to serve in our large, luxurious manor house. It is an experience that I can relate to, for I came here from Czechoslovakia without my family so many years ago. It will always be a sorrow to me that she was treated so poorly here. One might be nervous about going down a dark alleyway in a neighborhood known for its proclivity for crime, but one hardly expects one’s employer to strangle one with a camera strap.”