by Shéa MacLeod
“Creative,” I muttered dryly.
“Don’t be a drip,” Chaz muttered back. “We need his help, remember?”
I sighed. “Very well, darling, but I can’t help it if people are boring.”
Inside, the shop smelled strongly of tinned sardines, cigarettes—which I detest—and old books. There was also a rather plump black cat sitting on the counter. It glared at me through slitted green eyes. I stared back, and I swear it smirked at me.
Books of all sizes and shapes were stacked about the shop in tottering piles. A few rickety shelves, crammed to overflowing, lined the walls while a large table, stacked nearly to the ceiling, took up the center of the room. Even the way to the counter was half blocked by books.
There was no one in the shop. No buyers or browsers. No one even stuck their head in. And there was no sign of the proprietor, Win.
Chaz cleared his throat and shouted out, “Hello? Anyone in? We’re here for Win.” He grimaced at the inadvertent rhyme even as I snickered.
From behind the counter rose first an orange and black Chinese silk cap with orange tassels hanging from its crown. That was followed by a round face with small, dark eyes and an enormous, drooping mustache with a pipe poking from beneath it. He was not Chinese, as I had assumed, but very obviously English.
He pulled the pipe from his lips. “’ullo. Looking for a book, are we? Come to the right place.”
Had he been napping back there? I coughed as a cloud of smoke billowed my way.
Since I was having trouble speaking for once in my life, Chaz took over, explaining our conundrum. “Chap down at the Golden Lotus said maybe you could help.”
Win tugged at his mustache. “Black fellow, you say? American? Oh, aye. I remember ‘im quite well. Got himself absolutely soused. Over a woman, I reckon. Always a woman. Sorry, ma’am.”
I waved him off, thinking he likely wasn’t entirely wrong, and stepped back a few paces to give myself breathing room. I pretended to peruse what appeared to be the travel section. There was a book about Paris. I flipped through a few pages, then set it down quickly when I realized it was more about Parisian women than Paris itself. And they all seemed to be lacking in clothing.
“So, you did see him, then?” Chaz’s voice caught my attention.
“Sure and certain,” Win said around his pipe. “Found ‘im passed out on the bench, didn’t I?”
“What time was that?” Chaz asked.
Win stared up at the ceiling as if it might give him inspiration. “Oh, ‘bout half ten.”
Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to walk to Hyde Park, murder Dottie, and get back to the bench for Win to find him. Could it be done?
I calculated quickly in my mind. Very unlikely. Both the barman and Win claimed Hale was drunk out of his mind. And while he might be able to fool Win, I doubted he’d be able to fool an experienced barman. Leaving that aside, it would take more than thirty minutes to walk from the Golden Lotus to Hyde Park. Even if he’d been able to catch a cab, it would still have been at least fifteen minutes each way, not to mention having to walk to the center of the park to kill Dottie. No, there was simply no way that he could have done it in that time frame. If that’s the time she died.
“Did you see him after that?” I asked.
Win squinted at me. “Well, sure ‘nough I did. It was cold, you see. Couldn’t leave the poor man sitting there to freeze to death. Wouldn’t be Christian. So, I roused ‘im and got ‘im to the shop, you see. Hot tea does the trick.”
I was feeling a little faint. “What time did he leave the shop?”
“He didn’t. Not til morning. He slept on my cot right here.”
We both peered over the counter to find that there was indeed a cot back there.
“Where’d you sleep?” Chaz asked.
“Upstairs, o‘course. Got a nice little flat above the shop.”
“How do you know he didn’t sneak out sometime during the night, then come back in later?”
“Couldn’t,” Win said firmly. “Door’s locked after closing. No way out ‘less you’ve got a key, and he ain’t got one. I let him out at six the next morning.”
Chaz and I exchanged glances. We’d done it. We’d proved Hale’s alibi. Now we just had to convince North.
Chapter 5
It took some doing to convince Win to leave his shop and come to the police station with us, but we finally managed. I even let him smoke in my car, which I wasn’t thrilled about, but needs must.
We got a lot of stares while we waited for North. I don’t suppose it’s every day one sees an Englishman in a Chinese outfit smoking a pipe while sitting with two of the aristocracy in the waiting area of a police station. For Win’s part, he seemed entirely unperturbed by the stares.
“Did you used to live in China?” I asked by way of conversation.
“Nope.”
I glanced at his outfit, basically a pair of thick, silk pajamas. “I see.” I didn’t.
Win chuckled. “Doubt it. These things are damned—er, ‘scuse me ma’am—darned comfortable. Everyone will be wearing them one day.”
I doubted that, although I thought they’d make a rather nice pair of beach pajamas. Or perhaps some lovely loungewear. They did look comfortable. I made a mental note to make another trip to Chinatown. And not just for those delicious buns.
At last North appeared, looking put out by our very presence. He grew more morose by the minute once he learned that not only did Hale have an alibi, but that we could prove it. And although Win was a little eccentric, he was a proper, tax-paying citizen of Britain, and there was nothing North could do to deny his claim that he had played host to a drunken Hale.
“I guess we’ll have to let him go,” he finally admitted.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” I snapped. “Maybe if you’d done your job properly, you wouldn’t be in this state of embarrassment.”
I realized, as North’s eyes narrowed, that perhaps I’d pushed the detective a bit too far this time. If I wasn’t careful, he’d be pointing the finger at me just to be contrary. I flinched as he scraped back his chair and stalked toward me.
“Ophelia, Lady Rample,” he intoned. “I am placing you under arrest.”
“Oh, I say!” Chaz cried. “That’s not on, my good man.”
“Why?” I sneered. “Because I did your job?”
“No,” he gritted. “Because you murdered Dottie Davis.”
I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN better than to get North in a lather. To say I wasn’t best pleased with my new accommodations is perhaps the understatement of the century. Upon placing me under arrest, he had immediately marched me back to processing. After being photographed and fingerprinted, he stuffed me in a cell not unlike the one where I’d visited Hale. At least he’d let me keep my own clothes, and I hadn’t been forced into one of those striped overalls one always sees prisoners wearing in films.
Naturally, he had his reasons for arresting me. I’d been Hale’s lover. Dottie had stolen him from me. I’d suffered a blind, jealous rage. We’d had a row at The Lion Club. And so forth.
It was all ridiculous nonsense, of course. What it really boiled down to was that North didn’t much like me ever since I’d solved the crime he should have done. And I didn’t have an alibi. Not a good one anyway.
While Dottie Hale had been getting herself murdered, I was at home, asleep. Well, I assumed I was asleep. After Varant had dropped me off, I’d enjoyed a nightcap or two before going to bed to read. According to North, there’d been plenty of time between my arriving at home and Dottie’s death for me to slip out and do the deed. Unfortunately, Maddie had been sound asleep and hadn’t even heard me come in. Wonderful. The one time I needed my nosey maid, she failed me.
I slumped on the rather uncomfortable cot and stared morosely at the wall. There was a stain that looked just like Italy. Italy. Now there was a place I should visit. If they didn’t hang me for murder first.
“Get ahold of yourself, Ophelia,” I said al
oud. “You are made of sterner stuff than this. You will find a way out of this mess.”
And yet, I’d no idea how. Locked up in here, I couldn’t do any investigating. I hadn’t even seen Hale, although North had assured me they’d let him go.
Time ticked slowly by, the shadows lengthening. I was glad for my winter coat as it was rather chilly inside the cell. Really, you’d think they could heat it better or at least give a person a decent blanket. I eyed the one in my cell askance. It looked very like it might have an infestation.
Since I’d nothing better to do, I decided to go over the facts as I knew them.
Fact one: Dottie had lied to Hale about having his child and had tricked him into marriage. Which gave him a clear motive. Although he had an alibi and was therefore innocent. Did it give anyone else a motive?
Fact two: She’d picked a very public fight with me mere hours before her death. Well, not so much a fight as a lot of fist waving and posturing. Why? She’d never met me before. How did she know who I was? Or that I was there that night? And why confront me so publicly? She’d only embarrassed herself.
Fact three: She’d visited Hyde Park in the middle of the night. Why? Ladies, as a general rule, did not visit parks alone at night. Not that she’d been a lady, but still. Had she gone there with someone? Or perhaps to meet someone?
Fact four: Somewhere between ten at night and two in the morning, someone had stabbed Dottie Davis through the heart with a heart-shaped hat pin. Hat pins were generally the purview of women. Had her murder been a spur-of-the-moment thing and the killer used what was to hand? Then the killer was almost certainly a woman. Or had the killer brought the pin for the specific purpose of ending Dottie’s life? If that was the case, it would mean the killer could be either a man or a woman.
Fact five: Hale Davis was innocent. Of that I was sure. He not only had an alibi, thanks to Win, but I couldn’t believe him capable of a cold-blooded killing like that. Obviously, I was also innocent. Which left... who?
The problem was I knew nothing about Dottie. I’d never met her before that night at the Lion Club. I hadn’t even known her pregnancy was fake or her marriage was on the skids until that night. In fact, I hadn’t even known her name. Which meant I had no idea what she was like, who her friends were, or if she might have angered someone enough to kill her, either out of spontaneous rage or cold planning. Was she the type to incite violence in others?
Based on my brief encounter with her, I’d have to say yes. She’d been coarse and common, but I didn’t hold that against her. That was a matter of birth and circumstance. But there’d been something in her expression. Something that told me she’d reveled in causing that scene. In making the people around her uncomfortable. If she was happy to do that to a complete stranger—me—then what might she do to someone she actually knew and on whom she might have some delicious dirt?
The problem was I didn’t know who Dottie was close to, other than Hale and, apparently, some women called Kitty Leonard. I had no idea where she lived, who her friends were, or how she spent her time. Hale might know those things, but so far, he was a no-show. I would have been more upset about it, but knowing North, he probably wasn’t letting anyone see me. Especially not Hale.
Well, he was going to get an earful from my solicitor come morning. Locking me up without allowing me counsel or a phone call was beyond illegal, and I would make sure he paid for it.
With that jolly thought, I managed to drift off to sleep only to be awoken less than an hour later when the on-duty sergeant ushered a drunk into one of the other cells. She proceeded to sing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” very loudly and off key.
“You do know it’s not Christmas,” I shouted somewhere between the rings and the calling birds.
There was a pause, a loud belch, and then, “It’s always Christmas in my heart.”
I held back a laugh. “Well then, carry on.”
And she did.
Chapter 6
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the desk sergeant was rattling a key in the lock of my cell. “Good morning, my lady,” he said with equal parts cheer and caution. “Come along now. Your bail’s been paid.”
I sat up, yawning. “I didn’t even know it’d been set.”
He hesitated. “Well, let’s just say things have been sorted and you may go, but you’re still under caution and a suspect in the murder of Mrs. Davis.” Although, from the expression on his face, he found the whole thing as daft as I did.
“Sure, sure. Don’t suppose I could visit the cloakroom first?”
He looked confused.
I sighed. “The toilets.”
His expression cleared, although he blushed as he led me down the hall. Once I’d done the necessary and freshened up as best I could in the cloudy mirror above the sink, he guided me through the bullpen to the front. As I passed North’s office, I poked my head in. He sat hunched over a newspaper, cup of tea in hand. “I’m not at all impressed with your hospitality.”
He clutched his heart. “I am gutted. My life’s work is to see you happy.”
“Sarcasm does not become you,” I snapped, and trotted off to ensure I got in the last word. Petty? Me? Surely you jest.
I found Aunt Butty waiting with Varant in the foyer.
“Chaz called me last night,” Aunt Butty said, enfolding me in a hug, crushing me against her ample bosom. “I called Varant immediately. Something must be done about that ghastly North person.”
“He was just doing his job,” I said, though I wouldn’t mind him being taken down a peg. “Thank you, Varant. I don’t know how you managed, but I am grateful.” I didn’t mention the fact that while he’d somehow worked a miracle for me, he hadn’t managed the same with Hale.
He gave an elegant bow. “At my lady’s service. Shall I escort the two of you home?”
While he drove us home, I regaled them with my tale of finding Win, freeing Hale, and my night in jail, including the drunken serenade.
“Good heavens!” Aunt Butty said. “It sounds appalling.”
“It was an experience,” I said. “One I’m very glad to leave in the rearview mirror. Now I just need to find Dottie’s killer so North will be forced to unarrest me, or whatever one does.”
“I don’t think he can unarrest you,” Varant said dryly as we pulled out into early morning traffic. “He will have to dismiss the charges, and I will ensure there is a very public apology.”
I waved it off. Some might worry that being arrested for murder would tarnish one’s reputation, but I knew better. Likely it would only add to my mystique or whatnot. No doubt my invitations to parties and such would double over the next few weeks. At least until the hubbub died down and someone did something equally shocking, like strip off in the House of Lords.
“Do you really think you should be investigating, Ophelia?” my aunt asked. “After all, you are the prime suspect. You don’t want to give North any reason to arrest you again.”
I snorted. “The man is a ninny. If I leave it to him, I’ll end up hanging.”
She paled. “Please, Ophelia. My nerves.”
I laughed. “You have got nerves of steel, Aunt. Now stop this nonsense. We need to find out all we can about Dottie Davis and her life both before and after she married Hale.”
“I will leave the two of you to your investigations,” Varant said as he showed us to my front door. “I’ve got business to attend to.”
“Thanks again for riding to my rescue,” I said lightly, giving him a peck on the cheek before he strode away. But deep inside, I wondered why he’d come to my rescue so easily, yet ignored my request to help Hale? Could Varant somehow be involved in all this?
It was a ridiculous thought, and I brushed it off before it could take root.
THE MOMENT I GOT HOME, I left Aunt Butty to her own devices and went straight up to wash off the grime of prison. Once Maddie had drawn my bath and laid out clean clothes, I sent her off to make my aunt a pot of tea
and some sandwiches, though I’d no doubt she was already raiding my liquor cabinet despite it being barely gone nine in the morning.
Maddie had added my favorite rose-scented oil to the bath, and I sank into the warm water with a sigh of relief. Now all I needed was a rather substantial glass of whiskey and a magazine, and I’d be set.
Between the warmth and the long night, I’d very nearly dozed off when a banging on the bathroom door startled me awake. “Are you alive in there?”
“Charles Raynott! Don’t you dare open that door, or I shall murder you instantly,” I shouted, flailing slightly in the water before managing to snag a nearby towel.
There was a chuckle. “Very well, but you’d better hurry it along. The coffee is piping hot and Hale brought croissants. Lord knows where he found them, but they’re delicious, and I shall eat them all if you don’t move your backside.”
Hale was here? “Give me fifteen minutes.”
“Five.”
“Very well, ten. And there had better be at least two croissants and half a pot of coffee left, or my roses will have a lovely bit of fertilizer.”
He laughed. Probably because he knew I didn’t have any roses. Well, there was one small rose bush in a pot on the veranda, but it wasn’t exactly the sort of place one could hide a body.
Once I heard his footsteps retreating down the hall, I wrapped myself in a robe and scuttled back to my bedroom. I quickly dressed in the peacock blue merino wool Maddie had selected. I slipped on my black patent Cuban-heeled Oxfords with the cute little bows and added a jet necklace and earrings. After checking to make sure the bath hadn’t frizzed my hair too badly, I patted my face with a bit of powder, swiped on some pale pink lipstick, and decided that was well enough for a woman who’d just escaped the jailor.
Aunt Butty was entertaining the men in my sitting room, and they all greeted me with a cheer. After snagging a croissant from the tray, I sank onto a chair across from Hale and Chaz. Aunt Butty poured me coffee, and I nearly drained the cup in one go. Exhaustion pulled at me, and the beverage was very welcome.