Lady Rample and Cupid's Kiss
Page 11
“North!” I all but shouted at the poor desk sergeant.
He stared at me with wide eyes. “Er, Mrs. Rample. I mean, Lady Rample. DI North ain’t here. I mean, he left earlier. I mean, he’s gone to lunch.” He stammered out the words like he was terrified I might pummel him.
I narrowed my eyes and leaned over the counter. “Where’s he gone?”
The sergeant’s cheeks flushed crimson, and he stuttered some more. “I r-really couldn’t say, my lady.”
“Is that so?” I infused my voice with levels of Aunt Butty I never knew I had.
“He’s at the sarnie shop down the road,” he blurted, pointing wildly.
“Why, thank you, sergeant. Too kind.” And I tossed the end of my scarf over my shoulder, adjusted my hat, twirled semi-elegantly around, and sashayed out the door. It would have been a magnificent exit if the end of my scarf hadn’t got caught in the door and nearly strangled me to death. The poor sergeant had to come to my rescue.
Once freed, I hurried down the pavement in search of the sandwich shop. It was halfway down the block, tucked between a tobacconist and a tailor specializing in men’s clothing alterations. North was sitting in the window, newspaper in one hand and sandwich in the other.
I rapped on the window and when he looked up, gave a little finger wave. He grimaced and looked away, but he couldn’t deter me. I entered the premises as if I owned the joint, ignoring the stares of the working-class patrons, and strolled right up to North’s table.
“Mind if I sit?” I didn’t wait for an answer but draped myself in the chair in as elegant a fashion as I could muster. The place stank of overcooked eggs and fish paste mixed with the odor of men who tended to sweat for a living. Don’t even get me started on the clouds of cheap cigarette smoke that threatened to choke me near to death.
“What do you want?” North snarled, rattling his paper in a meaningful fashion.
I eyed him carefully, enjoying every moment of this, my victory. “I know who the Cupid Killer is.”
He snorted. “Don’t you think you’ve gone a tad too far this time?”
“Not at all. I have proof.”
He set both his sandwich and his paper down. “What proof?”
I wagged a finger at him. “Now. Now. All in good time.” I slid a piece of paper across the table.
He glared at it. “What’s that?”
“A list of names.”
“And what am I expected to do with it?”
I gave him my most winning smile. “Tomorrow, gather together the people on that list and take them to the address at the bottom. All will be revealed.” And despite his protests, I rose and exited the building feeling quite smug and sure of myself as I drove home.
After parking the car, I headed up the walk, going over in my mind my exact plan for the next day. It would be very exciting, and I would prove to that dratted North that when it came to detecting work, I knew what I was doing.
I was about to open my front door when someone grabbed me from behind and rammed a hood over my head. I tried to scream, but he clapped a hand over my mouth, dragged me back down the walk, and pitched me into a waiting motorcar!
Chapter 17
“What do you want?” I demanded as the car careened around a corner, throwing me against what felt like a wall. There was no answer, and I lifted the hood. It was pitch black, and I could hear things rattling in the dark. I must be in the back of a delivery van.
At last the van stopped, the engine shut off, and the door slammed. Footsteps crunched in gravel as someone walked around the van and unlocked the back doors. I felt around blindly for something to use as a weapon, but it was too late. The doors swung open, and bright light blinded me.
“Get out,” a snarly, masculine voice ordered. “I’ve got a gun, so you better do as I say.”
Not wishing to be shot dead, I carefully crawled out of the van and onto an empty gravel lot. As my eyes adjusted, I realized who my captor was.
“Archie. What the devil are you doing?”
Kitty’s former boyfriend didn’t answer. Instead he gestured toward a dilapidated garage with his weapon. “Inside.”
I didn’t want to go inside, but I didn’t see any alternative, so I stumbled along, trying to come up with a clever escape plan. Unfortunately, before I could drum up anything, he had me tied to a chair.
“Archie, this is madness. You must let me go.”
“Shut up!” Once he had me tied up, he walked away, disappearing into another room.
The minute he was out of sight, I did two things simultaneously: I took stock of my surroundings and tried to loosen my bonds. The first was easy enough, the second, not so much.
The garage was about as expected: concrete floor stained with motor oil, random chains hanging from the rafters, loads of dust and cobwebs everywhere. It was a defunct version of the garage where I’d first met him. How would anyone ever find me here?
They wouldn’t. I’d just have to take care of this myself.
He’d tied me up good and tight, but there was something he hadn’t counted on: my reading proclivities. Aunt Butty had lent me the latest novel by Dexter Dodge—the same one in which she’d read about hidden safes. In it, the detective had been kidnapped by gangsters. While being tied up, he’d kept his muscles contracted so that while the kidnappers thought the bonds were tight, once he’d relaxed, there’d been some slackness in the ropes. So I’d done the same thing. And it had worked!
The ropes he’d tied me with were just loose enough I could move a bit. And, feeling around, I realized the chair on which he’d tied me had a metal frame that was rusty and rough. Just the thing. I began working away at the ropes.
Then Archie returned with a bottle of beer of all things and began pacing and muttering to himself. I’d a terrible feeling he was gearing up for something dastardly. There was nothing for it. I must distract him!
“Listen, Archie, nothing could be that bad. Surely, if you explain, everyone will understand.”
He turned on me. “No! They won’t. They’ll hang me for sure.”
“But why?” I said, playing dumb. “You’re a good man. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve done for good reason, I’m certain of it.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done!”
“You killed Kitty,” I said, proud of how calm I sounded, and also wondering if I’d made a mistake confronting him in this way.
He stared at me before taking a long swallow of beer. “How’d you know?”
“There was grease on the hatpin,” I said simply, still working at my bonds. “Dark grease. I remember it was all over your hands when I visited your establishment.”
He let out a string of expletives. “I knew I’d never get away with it.”
“So why’d you kidnap me?” The ropes were very loose now.
He scrubbed a grease-stained hand through his hair. “I dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Yes, I can see how you might think that. But really, I do believe that it would make more sense to get out of London as quickly as possible.” I wriggled a hand free. “You’re a good man, Archie, anyone would understand how she drove you to it. It was her fault really.”
“The coppers’ll never believe it.”
“But of course they will. I’ll tell them. And you know they’ll listen to me.” Bald-faced lie, but anything to keep Archie distracted.
“You’d talk to them for me?”
“Of course. I know the lead detective on the case. We’ve spoken on numerous occasions.” Never mind that he’d be more likely to throw me in jail than to listen to anything I had to say. My second hand was nearly free. “Listen, my throat is really dry. Could you get me something to drink?”
He grunted and disappeared into the same room as before. I yanked my hands free and the rope dropped to the floor. It was quick work to undo my ankles. I searched around for a weapon as I heard his footsteps approaching. The only thing I found was a rusty wrench.
Snaggi
ng it off a workbench, I dashed to the side of the open doorway and lifted it. As Archie stepped through, I brought it down on his head. He dropped to the floor in a heap, two open beer bottles crashing to splinters. Beer sprayed everywhere, including on me.
The doors crashed open, light streamed in, and male voices shouted, “Police! Drop your weapon!”
The wrench hit the floor and I reached for the sky.
Chapter 18
“Maddie, remind me to give you a pay raise,” I said as she set the tea service in front of me.
“Yes, my lady. I’ll write it in lipstick on your mirror.” She had a sparkle in her eye as she stepped out the door.
As well she should. It had been Maddie who’d seen Archie take me, and Maddie who’d rung Chaz and Hale immediately. Chaz had rung Aunt Butty, who’d rung Varant, who’d told her where I was being held before ringing the police. Then Hale and Chaz had joined the police on their raid. It had all been very exciting.
After assuring me he’d stop by later, North had let the two men take me home where I’d washed off the reek of beer and changed into fresh clothes. Aunt Butty had met us there and the three of them were already deep in the liquor cabinet.
Aunt Butty whipped out a flask and dumped its entire contents into the teapot. “Medicinal.”
“Of course,” I murmured, enjoying the flavor of heavily doctored tea. “I assume North arrested Archie.”
“Of course,” Chaz said, sitting next to Aunt Butty. “Although he did admit he isn’t sure why Archie should only be arrested for Kitty’s murder.”
Just then the doorbell rang, and Maddie’s footsteps clacked along the front hall. There was a murmur of voices, more footsteps, and then North appeared in the doorway, hat in hand.
“My lady, I was just stopping by to check that you’d survived your little adventure.” Was it me, or was there a hint of snark in his tone?
Aunt Butty snorted. “Of course she did. She’s made of sterner stuff than that, Detective.” I noted she left off the “chief inspector” portion of his title. “Now sit and have some tea. Ophelia was about to tell us why Archie should only be arrested for Kitty’s murder and not the other two deaths.”
“Was she now?” he muttered, taking a seat as ordered.
“Well, Archie only killed Kitty, obviously,” I said, earning myself a glare from North.
“Then who killed Dottie and Harry?” Hale took his place beside me. “Were we right about Jones?”
“Afraid not. Kitty killed them,” I said, taking another swallow of tea flavored whiskey.
“What?” North sputtered.
“Perhaps you should explain,” Aunt Butty said.
“Right, well, according to the documents I found in Derby Jones’s office—”
“Which you broke in to,” North interrupted.
Chaz shoved a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits at him. Probably to try and shut him up. This was my moment in the sun, after all.
“Yes, well, be that as it may, Kitty used to work for him. And I think there may have been more going on than that as she was just Jones’s type. In any case, when Dottie stole first Archie and then Derby—or at least his business—Kitty was furious. She immediately began to plot her revenge.
“The night of the murder, she sent Dottie a message. Dottie thought it was from Derby and that he was finally going to, ah, give in to her charms. Instead, it was Kitty who met her in the park and stabbed Dottie through the heart using a hatpin from her own collection.”
“Good gosh,” Chaz said. “That’s appalling. But what about poor Harry?”
“Kitty’d been hanging around Apollyon trying to get back into Derby’s good graces when she saw us talking to Harry. Of course, Harry knew all about what had been going on and she was afraid he’d spilled the proverbial beans. So she killed him, too. And being somewhat clever, she thought she could make it look like a mass murderer was on the loose by using the same method of death and the twin to the first hatpin,” I explained. “What she didn’t count on was Archie realizing she’d done it. I mean he told us from the beginning it was her. And when the police didn’t arrest her, he confronted her himself.”
“And she admitted it?” Hale asked.
“According to Archie, yes. Told him she’d done it for them. Only Archie wasn’t in love with Kitty anymore. He was besotted with Dottie. When Kitty confessed to murdering his new obsession, he stabbed her with a screwdriver in a fit of rage.”
“But what about the hatpin?” Aunt Butty asked.
“He knew he had to throw the police off the scent, so he went out to a second-hand shop and bought a cheap hatpin in the same shape and pushed it into the wound, hoping they would think it was the same killer,” I said.
“He obviously doesn’t understand modern forensics,” Chaz said dryly.
“Ain’t that the truth,” North muttered around a biscuit.
“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Hale murmured, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“What about that terrible Derby Jones?” Aunt Butty wanted to know.
“With the documents the two of you found, there’s enough to put Jones away for a very long time,” North assured us.
“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, refilling her cup. “Can’t have nasty pieces of work like that running amok.”
“No, we cannot,” North agreed, polishing off his biscuit before rising from his seat. “Well, I must be off. Do try and stay out of my way, will you?” And with that he marched out of the room.
“Fat chance,” Chaz chuckled.
“Oh, Chaz,” Aunt Butty said, reaching under her chair and coming up with a parcel, “I know it’s a bit early, but I have your birthday gift here.”
“Why, thank you, Aunt B.” He grinned happily. “So kind of you.”
“Wait 'til you open it,” I muttered.
He ripped open the paper and froze a moment, before lifting out a mustard yellow monstrosity of a hand-knitted scarf. “Er, it’s quite... something, Aunt B. Thanks awfully.”
“I know the winter is nearly over,” Aunt Butty said, “but there will still be plenty of cold weather for you to enjoy it.”
He looked a little pale. “Can’t wait.”
I snickered, and he shot me a dirty look before stuffing the scarf back in the wrapping. “You know, Aunt B., you finding the secret safe was quite something. I bet Jones will be steamed when he hears about it.”
As the two of them chatted about the future repercussions of Derby’s enterprise being broken up, Hale leaned into me, his breath warm against my ear. “With all this talk of the future, perhaps we should talk about ours.”
My heart thudded in my chest as I turned to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm and full of meaning, and I found myself in dire need of another medicinal cup of tea.
“Yes,” I whispered eagerly. “Yes, I think we should have a talk.”
His thumb rubbed circles on the back of my hand. “Shall I throw them out?”
I turned to glance at Aunt Butty and Chaz who were already both a little tipsy and arguing over the best way to off a wayward spouse without getting caught. I held back a smile.
“Let them argue it out. We have plenty of time to talk. I’m not going anywhere.”
He gave me a long, slow, sultry smile. “Nor am I.”
Coming in Spring 2019
Lady Rample and the Mysterious Mr. Singh
Lady Rample Mysteries - Book Seven
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About Shéa MacLeod
Shéa MacLeod is the author of the bestselling paranormal series, Sunwalker Saga, as well as the award nominated cozy mystery series Viola Roberts Cozy Mysteries. She has dreamed of writing novels since before she could hold a crayon. She totally blames her mother.
She resides in the leafy green hills outside Portland, Oregon where she indulges in her fondness for strong coffee, Ancient Aliens reruns, lemon curd, and dragons. She can usually be found at her desk dreaming of ways to kill people (or vampires). Fictionally speaking, of course.
Other books by Shéa MacLeod
Lady Rample Mysteries
Lady Rample Steps Out
Lady Rample Spies a Clue
Lady Rample and the Silver Screen
Lady Rample Sits In
Lady Rample and the Ghost of Christmas Past
Lady Rample and Cupid’s Kiss
Lady Rample and the Mysterious Mr. Singh (coming Spring 2019)
Viola Roberts Cozy Mysteries
The Corpse in the Cabana
The Stiff in the Study
The Poison in the Pudding
The Body in the Bathtub
The Venom in the Valentine
The Remains in the Rectory
The Death in the Drink
Notting Hill Diaries
Kissing Frogs
Kiss Me, Chloe
Kiss Me, Stupid
Kissing Mr. Darcy
Cupcake Goddess Novelettes
Be Careful What You Wish For
Nothing Tastes As Good
Soulfully Sweet
A Stich in Time
Dragon Wars
Dragon Warrior
Dragon Lord
Dragon Goddess
Green Witch
Dragon Corps
Dragon Mage
Dragon’s Angel
Dragon Wars- Three Complete Novels Boxed Set
Dragon Wars 2 – Three Complete Novels Boxed Set