The Sleuthing Starlet Mysteries

by Bianca Blythe

  Normally, Cora would have left it like that.

  But these weren’t normal circumstances. Somebody had been murdered, quite recently.

  “It was something bad,” Cora said. “Wasn’t it?”

  Martha shifted her gaze. She had a strange desperation about her, as if she were searching for a colleague to handle the rest of the payment process.

  “Look.” Martha leaned toward her. “I can’t speak about what happened. Mrs. Abraham would think it improper.”

  “Mrs. Abraham isn’t here,” Cora countered.

  “Right.” Martha’s shoulders didn’t seem to relax, but at least they didn’t climb higher, and her breath evened. “Bess was removed from her position.”

  Cora blinked. “Fired?”

  “Not so loud,” Martha said, but then nodded. “Yes. She was caught stealing.”

  “I see.”

  “So you can’t go around asking people about her. It just antagonizes Mrs. Abraham.”

  Cora nodded. “What did she steal?”

  “A watch.” Martha shrugged. “A nice watch. They found it in her handbag.”

  Cora nodded. “I see.”

  “The worst thing was it wasn’t one of our watches. It belonged to a customer. Maybe the clasp fell off when she was at the counter, or maybe Bess took it off surreptitiously herself. Bess worked at the glove counter,” Martha explained. “But it’s the sort of thing that would damage the store.” Martha sighed. “It might be tricky for anything to ruin the store.”

  “The store is nice,” Cora said, still appreciative.

  “But having employees steal from the customers they served...that might cause a dip in sales. And those are never desired. If it had been a watch from the store, they would have just called the police and hauled her off to the station. But stealing from a customer?” Martha shuddered.

  “Quite.” Cora handed Martha the money, and Martha counted it and then handed her back some change.

  Martha’s face became suddenly bland. “Have a nice rest of your afternoon.”

  Cora didn’t have to extend her head very far to see Mrs. Abraham observing them. She gave a tight smile to Martha who looked relieved when she realized Cora was not going to say anything more to her.

  Cora marched from the store, feeling rather less welcome than when she arrived.

  Never mind.

  She hadn’t planned to spend time shopping, and even if she had, it hardly mattered what one grouchy employee thought.

  Her mind turned to Bess.

  Bess was a thief?

  Perhaps the watch had accidentally fallen into her handbag. Certainly, accidents happened, but unfortunately, that sort of an accident was unlikely to be believed.

  Had Bess truly needed money? Cora frowned.

  Is this connected to the missing jewels?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Naturally, the missing jewels and Bess’s predisposition toward theft must be connected.

  It was Bess.

  She’d stolen the jewels and she’d murdered Mr. Tehrani. It all made sense.

  Perhaps Bess had met Mr. Tehrani at a club or even at her department store. They would have found each other attractive. Perhaps Mr. Tehrani had shown himself to be no knight in shining armor, or perhaps he’d known she’d stolen the prized possession for which he was responsible. Miss Greensbody had gushed about the treasures to Cora after she’d barely known her, and Cora would find it difficult to imagine she had not mentioned it to the other people in the apartment.

  No wonder Bess had hid her recognition of Mr. Tehrani.

  Cora marched back to Veronica’s hotel, hardly lessening her speed as she crossed the sumptuous lobby. Never mind the gold and crystal chandeliers and never mind the eighteenth century furniture that signified that this hotel was every bit a palace. Cora had no time to marvel at their beauty.

  She soon knocked on Veronica’s door, grateful when her friend answered.

  “Cora?” Veronica asked. “Please don’t tell me you’ve gotten another note.”

  “I haven’t,” Cora said. “But I know who the murderer is.”

  “Then call the police,” she said.

  Right.

  That was what she was supposed to do.

  But what evidence did she have? A photograph that had been in the dead man’s blazer? The fact Bess had been terminated from her position for theft?

  Cora sat down. “I suppose I don’t really know.”

  “You have a hunch,” Veronica said, with a slight note of disapproval in her voice.

  “Bess stole a watch at work,” Cora said.

  “And you think that means she may have taken the jewels,” Veronica said.

  “It sounds silly,” Cora said.

  “Of course not,” Veronica said quickly, thought she didn’t offer any other words of support.

  “I should search her apartment,” Cora said. “If I find the jewels, I’ll know for certain. Bess is gone for the weekend anyway.”

  “We’ll go there together,” Veronica promised. “I’ll even bring a cake. Consider it a housewarming present. Less durable than a plant, but still able to bring pleasure. I got it at a party last night.”

  They strode to the lobby, and Veronica arranged for a driver. Soon they arrived back in Bloomsbury.

  The building didn’t seem foreboding, but Cora’s heart still pitter-pattered as they climbed the stairs to her room. She could hear murmurings in Lionel’s and Rollo’s flat.

  “We can come back later,” Veronica whispered.

  “Nonsense.” Cora didn’t want to extend this process. She still didn’t know where her father was. This needed to be resolved.

  “We’re still alive,” Veronica said, as they entered the flat. “Brilliant.”

  “You mustn’t speak like that,” Cora whispered.

  “I would suggest tea, but this place gives me the creeps,” Veronica said.

  “Nonsense,” Cora said. “Though Archibald will like the walk. Wouldn’t you, Archibald?”

  Archibald wagged his tail and ran in a circle.

  “I wish I were as eager for exercise,” Veronica murmured and disappeared down the steps with Archibald.

  Cora approached Bess’s door. Her heart hammered, and she tore a trusty hairpin from her bun.

  She told herself that Bess wouldn’t be here.

  The boys were below, but that didn’t matter. She could be quiet. She’d mastered the art of tiptoeing long ago.

  She knocked on the door, just in case Bess was there, hairpin in hand.

  The door opened.

  Cora blinked.

  The door wasn’t supposed to open. Bess was supposed to be in the Cotswolds, visiting her family, this weekend.

  And yet her presence was unmistakable.

  “Hello.” Cora forced a smile to her face.

  “What are you doing here?” Bess’s eyes narrowed.

  Golly.

  “I thought you were going to be in Cotswolds,” Cora said.

  “Then why are you knocking on my door?” Bess frowned. “You’ve been acting quite strangely.”

  “I mean, I hoped you weren’t gone yet,” Cora rushed to say, clasping her hairpin more tightly in the palm of her hand.

  “Why?”

  “I—I” Cora swallowed hard. The action seemed to be more difficult due to the rapid beating of her heart. “I have a cake in my room. I thought we could have tea.”

  “Tea?” Bess still looked suspicious, but then her shoulders relaxed. “I like tea.”

  Cora beamed. Every Englishperson liked tea.

  “I wanted to invite Lionel and Rollo too,” Cora said hastily. Bess was not much taller than her, but she still didn’t think it would be a good idea to be alone with her. She’d learned her lesson from past experiences. She wasn’t going to confront a murderer alone.

  “Even better!” Bess said.

  Rollo and Lionel were similarly enthusiastic about the hasty cake and tea party, and Cora decided to invite Miss G
reensbody as well.

  She knocked on Miss Greensbody’s door. Miss Greensbody answered and removed her ruffled white apron before joining.

  Something about the apron seemed familiar. No doubt, she’d met seen someone else wearing a similar one.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lionel, Rollo, Miss Greensbody and Bess sat around Cora’s table, chatting amiably.

  It was the sight she’d dreamed about, before she’d moved into the apartment. She’d yearned to have friends who were not part of Hollywood. She’d desired to meet normal people and to experience life as it should be, and not be consumed with representing life to others.

  And now she was going to accuse somebody of murder.

  Cora set teacups on a tray along with a pot of tea and the cake.

  “I do think it admirable that you, as an American, are serving tea,” Miss Greensbody said. “Though personally, I have always found scones and crumpets a more appropriate accompaniment than cake.”

  “I think it’s delicious,” Rollo said gallantly.

  “Thank you. I didn’t make it though.”

  “Are these cherries?” Miss Greensbody poked at the cake with her fork. “It’s decadent.”

  “They didn’t eat cake in ancient Persia?” Lionel asked with a smirk.

  “They didn’t even have sugar,” Miss Greensbody said. “Well. The Emperor Darius of Persia discovered it when he invaded India, but people didn’t cook with sugar until quite some time after. The history of sweets is fascinating.”

  Lionel’s face whitened slightly, as if he was not quite as fascinated. “Er—Cora, which of us do you think murdered Mr. Tehrani now?”

  Cora coughed. “Pardon?”

  “Isn’t this what this is? It’s all very Hercule Poirotish.”

  “What? N-nonsense,” Cora stammered. She wasn’t going to mention the only reason they were all together was because she’d intended to break into Bess’s apartment to search for ancient jewels and had needed a quick excuse.

  “The cake is delicious,” Rollo said.

  “G-good.”

  The clinking of forks against the porcelain plates filled the air, and Cora wished she had a gramophone.

  “So when are you going to Cotswolds?” Rollo asked Bess.

  “Oh, I’m not going there after all,” Bess said coolly.

  Rollo beamed. “That’s splendid. You’re staying in London?”

  “London is not quite as unaffordable as I thought.” She smiled mysteriously, and Cora stiffened.

  Bess was referring to the jewels. She must be.

  “How curious. You’ve never shown a passion for economizing before,” Miss Greensbody mused.

  “But I think I’ll go elsewhere,” Bess said. “I feel an urge to travel.”

  “That is definitely not the economical option,” Miss Greensbody said sternly.

  Bess continued to smile benignly, obviously unbothered by her neighbor’s comment, and obviously dreaming of the future.

  “Will you come back soon?” Rollo’s voice sounded gravelly, and Cora felt a rush of sympathy for him. The man was so clearly besotted.

  “Australia is far away,” Bess said.

  “Australia?” Cora sputtered.

  Bess had murdered somebody. She’d stolen jewels. She shouldn’t be going to Australia. Perhaps Australia had once belonged to Britain, but it had been independent since the turn of the century. The British police were unlikely to go after her there, and would Australia extradite her?

  Australia was a large country.

  It would be easy to lose oneself in Australia. People spoke English, and Bess would be able to easily make a new life, given her new, stolen fortune. It was a good plan.

  “You can’t go,” Cora said.

  Bess raised her eyebrows, and her lips curled. “You recommend California? Is there a rivalry between the United States and Australia of which I am unaware?”

  “What? Nonsense.” Cora shook her head rapidly.

  The others looked at her strangely.

  Bess rose. “My train to Portsmouth leaves this afternoon.”

  “That is very fast,” Rollo said. “Won’t you miss it here? Won’t you miss...us?”

  Bess shrugged. “Of course. But I’ll manage. I’m adaptable.”

  “You can’t go,” Cora said suddenly. “I-I won’t let you.” She turned to the others. “We won’t let you.”

  Bess arched her eyebrows. “I thought we were going to be friends.”

  “At the time I didn’t think you were a murderess,” Cora said.

  Bess widened her eyes. “Pardon?”

  The room was suddenly very quiet, and Cora’s heartbeat quickened.

  She hadn’t been supposed to say that. She’d been supposed to search Bess’s apartment while Veronica took Archibald out.

  But Bess was leaving now, and she had to stop her. Cora wasn’t alone. She was with her other neighbors.

  It will be fine.

  Bess’s shocked face told her it wasn’t fine. Cora had wanted so badly to live a normal life, but she was only accusing her new neighbors of murder. Bess looked like she might bolt.

  “Sit down,” Cora said.

  Bess didn’t sit.

  “Sit down now,” Cora said, keeping her voice stern.

  Bess settled back into her chair and tossed her hair. “Well. This will be amusing. What makes you think I would murder anybody?”

  “Yes, Bess wouldn’t do that,” Rollo said quickly. “The idea is absurd. Utterly.”

  “You were running out of funds,” Cora said. “London is expensive.”

  “Everyone knows that.” Bess gave a slight laugh. “Hardly novel.”

  “But it was to you,” Cora said. “You don’t come from a poor family.”

  Bess shrank back.

  “Your parents are wealthy. They wanted you to study at university. Only things didn’t go well, did they? You discovered Mr. Tehrani was bringing priceless jewels to London and decided to befriend him to steal him.”

  “That’s absolute nonsense,” Bess said stiffly. “I would never do such a thing.”

  “You’ve stolen before.”

  “My dear woman.” Miss Greensbody widened her eyes. “You’re a thief? You killed that poor man?”

  “No,” Bess exclaimed. “It wasn’t like that. Not at all. The watch... The woman didn’t even notice it was missing. It obviously wasn’t important to her. It was silly. A moment’s indiscretion. They shouldn’t have let me go. I’d never stolen before, and I was good at my job.”

  “Unlike university,” Cora said.

  “I just wasn’t suited for school.”

  “You failed your courses,” Cora said.

  “You shouldn’t speak to her like that,” Rollo said. “One of the rules of friendship is not to accuse your friend of murder.”

  “My grades didn’t matter. I could always return to the Cotswolds.”

  Cora drew back. Bess was correct.

  “I agree,” Cora said finally.

  Bess blinked. “You agree?”

  “Yes,” Cora said curtly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way always, but you’re right, you were not in desperate straits.”

  “I’m glad that’s settled,” Bess said.

  There was an awkward silence.

  Something still felt wrong, and it wasn’t only the fact Cora had broken societal expectations by accusing someone of murder.

  Perhaps Bess could always have returned to Cotswolds, but could she have gone to Australia if she was without funds? Most parents didn’t want their children to sail thousands of miles away. Even the passageway would have been expensive.

  Bess had stated her finances had improved recently. Rollo was continuing to stare at Bess in wonder, and something cold clutched Cora’s heart.

  Rollo’s obvious fondness of Bess was charming, but could it have driven him too far? What if Bess hadn’t stolen the jewels? What if someone else had stolen the jewels?

  “Mr. Tehrani was poiso
ned,” Cora said.

  Miss Greensbody put her fork down, and it clinked against her plate. “My appetite is gone.”

  Lionel reached over and switched their plates. “Mine isn’t. This is fascinating. Much more amusing than most teas.”

  “You can take my tea too,” Miss Greensbody said.

  Cora turned to address Lionel. “You must have learned about poisons at university.”

  Lionel flashed her a smile. “I learned about many things.”

  “I’m interested in the poisons,” Cora said.

  “Eccentric American,” Lionel muttered.

  “Do you have textbooks on them?”

  Lionel raised his eyebrows. “I do, but I have no urge to sift through them.”

  “I imagine your cousin already did,” Cora remarked.

  “I have no interest in doing medicine. Too much blood,” Rollo gave a slight laugh. “Not my style.”

  “Poison is more your style,” Cora said.

  “Nonsense,” Rollo said, and gave another laugh.

  It sounded hollow, and even Bess turned to peer at him, perhaps sensing something was off.

  “You killed him,” Cora said, turning to Rollo.

  Rollo widened his eyes. “Me? Don’t be outrageous.” His voice squeaked somewhat comically, and Cora fought the urge to join in.

  He was right. It was outrageous. Rollo was slight of build and had a consistently jovial demeanor. Unlike Lionel and Miss Greensbody, and unlike perhaps even Bess, he didn’t seem given to the occasional outburst of improper anger.

  Aggressive was not a word she would have associated with him, and murderer seemed that much more ridiculous.

  And yet it had been so. Facts did not lie, no matter how much Cora would have liked them to.

  “You’ve always loved Bess,” Cora said gently.

  “Me? We’re friends.” Rollo laughed, but it came out too forced.

  Had Cora been in a studio and laughed similarly, the director would have demanded a new take. Rollo could not ask for a new take.

  He seemed to know it.

  His shoulders drooped downward.