A Tourist's Guide to Murder

by V. M. Burns

  She looked around the room frantically. “What’s happened?”

  “Nana Jo, put that gun down. I just got an e-mail and—”

  She lowered her gun and narrowed her eyes. “You called me in here because of an e-mail?”

  “It’s from my agent. Listen.” I turned back to my laptop. “ ‘I’m excited to tell you that we have received an offer from Mysterious Books for your British historic cozy mystery. They’re offering a three-book deal.’” I stared at my grandmother. “They want to publish my book.”

  Nana Jo gave a whoop, placed her gun on my desk, and then gave me a big hug. “Congratulations! I knew you could do it.”

  “I’m stunned.”

  “Well, I’m thirsty. Let’s celebrate.” Nana Jo hurried to the kitchen.

  I followed her, still dazed. In the kitchen, she reached in the back of the pantry and pulled out a tall box.

  She placed it on the counter.

  I stared from the tall narrow box to my grandmother. “Where did that come from?”

  Nana Jo grinned. “First, you have to open it.”

  I unwrapped the box, which contained a bottle of champagne with a label I recognized and knew was very expensive. I lifted the bottle out of the box and set it on the counter. “I don’t understand?”

  Nana Jo opened a drawer and rummaged until she found a corkscrew. “I bought this over a year ago. When I first read your book. I knew you’d get it published, so I wanted to be ready to celebrate when the big day came.”

  I wiped away a tear and gave my grandmother a hug. “Thank you. I just wish Leon . . .”

  “Leon was always proud of you, and far as I can tell, nothing’s changed.” She sniffed. “Now, no more of that nonsense. This isn’t a time for tears. This is a time for celebrating. You get the glasses.”

  I gave a giddy, slightly hysterical laugh and used my sleeve to wipe my eyes. Then, I swallowed any sad thoughts of Leon and the past, opened the cabinet, and took out two of my best fluted glasses and placed them on the counter.

  Nana Jo uncorked the champagne with a loud pop and quickly poured the bubbling liquid into our glasses.

  We each picked up a glass and held it aloft.

  “To my beautiful granddaughter at the start of her new career. May you have as much success as Agatha Christie.”

  I giggled at the very idea of mentioning my name in the same sentence with my favorite mystery writer. However, I clinked my glass with hers and then took a sip.

  We quickly finished our drinks, and Nana Jo refilled the glasses.

  “The only thing better would be if we had something sweet to go with this.”

  I smiled. “I think I can help with that.” I walked around to the freezer and reached in the back. I pulled out a frozen cheesecake. “I was saving this for a special occasion.” I held up the box. “I guess this qualifies.”

  “You bet your bippy it does.” Nana Jo smacked the counter. “Now, you nuke that puppy enough to get a fork in it, and I’ll get the plates.” She took two dessert plates from the cabinet, and I followed the directions on the box and microwaved the cheesecake just enough to soften it.

  With cheesecake and champagne, we perched on barstools and enjoyed the late-night decadence.

  Nana Jo took one bite and then hopped up and went to the refrigerator. She opened the door and glanced around. Not finding what she wanted, she sighed and closed the door. “The only thing that would make this better would have been a little dollop of whipped cream.”

  I smiled. “Oh, I can make some.”

  “Make it?” She stared at me. “Who died and made you Martha Stewart?”

  I grabbed the heavy cream from the fridge and pulled out my new mini food chopper. “Dawson asked for one of these for Christmas, and they were so cute, I got one for myself too.” I poured the cream into the chopper along with a tablespoon of sugar and a splash of vanilla. Then, I pulsed the chopper for ten seconds. I took off the lid and smiled. I took a spoon and placed a generous amount of the whipped cream on both of our plates.

  Nana Jo gazed at the fluffy white clouds of sugary goodness and took a tentative bite.

  I watched her face anxiously while she tasted it. When she closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure, I released the breath I’d been holding and giggled. “Good stuff, isn’t it?”

  “Hmm. That’s delicious. How did you know how to make it?”

  I took a bite and allowed the cheesecake and whipped cream to dissolve on my tongue before I chewed and swallowed. “When I went to the store to buy it, the sales rep was doing a demonstration. It was amazing. I couldn’t believe how fast and easy it was.”

  We sat and enjoyed our treats in silence.

  “I wonder what happens now?” Nana Jo asked.

  I shrugged. “Pam’s e-mail said she knew I was leaving for England, but she wanted to give me the good news now rather than waiting until I come back.” I scraped the last bits of cheesecake and graham cracker crust with my fork and licked it like a popsicle until I’d gotten every crumb. “She said she’d give me the details when I got back.”

  Nana Jo took our empty plates to the dishwasher and placed the leftover cheesecake in the refrigerator. “Christopher and Zaq will finish that off while we’re gone.”

  I sipped my champagne. “I’m glad she didn’t wait until I got back to tell me.”

  Nana Jo smiled. “Me too.” She grabbed the bottle of champagne. “Let’s finish this bottle off and then we better get some sleep. We’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  We sat up for an hour talking and sipping champagne. Eventually, Nana Jo headed off to bed and I went to my room. It was early Saturday morning, but between the excitement of the trip and the news about my book, I still wasn’t sleepy. So, I decided to spend a little bit of time writing to help settle my nerves.

  Wickfield Lodge, English country home of Lord William Marsh

  January 1939

  “What an incredible boor.” Lady Penelope paced the floor of the Marsh family drawing room. “I don’t think he’s ever going to leave.”

  Victor Carlston sat with his legs stretched out in front of the fireplace. “Darling, you really shouldn’t upset yourself.”

  Lady Elizabeth sat on the sofa and pulled out her knitting bag. She smiled to herself as she removed the soft, fluffy yellow yarn. She loved knitting and often found it helped her think clearly and eased her mind. All of the Marshes had sweaters, socks, and scarves that kept them warm through the cold, damp winter months in the British countryside. Nothing gave Lady Elizabeth more pleasure than knitting for her family and those she loved; however, this pram set for her niece’s expected arrival was by far the item that gave her the greatest joy.

  Lady Penelope walked over to her aunt. “Oh, that’s absolutely lovely.” She fingered the soft fluffy wool.

  Lady Elizabeth smiled. “I’m glad you like it, dear.” She pulled the pattern out of her bag and passed it to her niece. “I saw this beehive pattern at Harrods along with the softest wool, and I just had to get it.” She watched her niece carefully. “You do like it, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.” She hugged her aunt. “I love it.”

  Lady Elizabeth smiled. “Good, then I’d better get busy.”

  Lord William shoved tobacco into his pipe. “You’ll spoil the young fellow. Not even here yet.”

  The women exchanged a glance and held back smiles.

  The door to the drawing room opened, and Lady Clara Trewellen-Harper floated into the room and flopped down on the sofa next to her cousin. “Gawd, what a ghastly man.” She looked around at Victor Carlston, and her cheeks took on a rosy color. “Oh, Victor. I’m so sorry.”

  After a brief pause, everyone in the room chuckled.

  Lady Elizabeth was torn between wanting to ease her young cousin’s discomfort and the need to convey a message. She chose comfort and patted her hand. “It’s all right, dear.”

  “We were just saying much the same thing before you came in,” Lady Penelope s
aid with a smile.

  Lady Clara leaned back against the sofa. “Glad I’m not the only one who finds Captain Jessup irritating.”

  Lady Penelope looked around. “Where is the brute?”

  Lady Clara waved a hand in the air. “Arguing with Peter . . . ah, I mean Detective Inspector Covington.” She glanced away, but not before another flush spread to her cheeks.

  The drawing room door opened again, and a tall, lean, gangly man with thick, curly hair entered.

  Lady Elizabeth noted the flush in Lady Clara’s cheeks deepened as she looked up and the object of their conversation entered.

  Lady Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Detective Inspector Covington, we’re so glad you could join us.”

  The detective had a red patch on his neck, and his ears were aflame. He marched into the room and took out a handkerchief and wiped his neck.

  “Why, you look positively furious,” Victor Carlston said. He rose with concern and approached the detective. “What’s happened?”

  “That . . . man . . . Captain Jessup.” He searched for the words. “He’s a self-righteous, opinionated, overbearing . . .” He looked around at the women and softened his tone. “I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn’t say such things, especially in the presence of ladies.”

  Lady Clara, calm, cool, and collected with her emotions fully in hand, whirled around and faced the young detective. “Why not? I’ve just been expressing similar sentiments about the Neanderthal.” She folded her hands across her chest.

  “She’s right,” Lady Penelope said. She waved a hand toward an empty seat. “You might as well come in and join the party.”

  The Scotland Yard detective sat down in a chair near the fireplace. “I’ve honestly not met anyone quite so . . . objectionable.”

  “And this from a man who spends all of his days with criminals,” Lady Clara said and marched back to sit next to Lady Elizabeth.

  Detective Inspector Covington grinned. “Well, I do get out of the nick on occasion.”

  “You know what I mean.” Lady Clara leaned across to speak to her cousin. “Can’t we toss him out?”

  Lady Elizabeth continued to knit. “All of the other guests from the wedding are gone, and I’m sure Captain Jessup will be on his way soon.” She sighed. “Although, I must admit, he has managed to upset most of the household staff too.”

  Victor turned. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault. If it hadn’t been for the darned plumbing problems, we could go home to Bidwell Cottage, and you wouldn’t be subjected to all of this.”

  Lady Elizabeth shook her head. “Nonsense. You and Penelope are family. There’s no way you could think of entertaining anyone until you can get the plumbing fixed, and I don’t want to hear anything more about the subject.”

  Lord William Marsh chomped on the stem of his pipe. “Agreed.”

  “Thank you, all.” Victor bowed.

  Lady Clara tilted her head and stared at Victor. “I have to admit, I don’t really see a resemblance between you both, and he certainly lacks your charm and manners.”

  Victor smiled. “Thank you . . . I think.”

  Lady Elizabeth turned to Victor. “How are you two related?”

  Victor scratched his temple. “To be completely honest, I’m not really sure. He claims to be related to my uncle Percival, but Uncle Percy died before I was born, so . . . I’m not exactly sure.” He shook his head. “I have to say, I wish he wouldn’t talk about his political views.”

  Lady Clara stood up, stuck her nose in the air, and glanced down with a sour expression as though she just got a whiff of a foul odor. She spoke in a mocking voice, “I was chatting with my good friends, Joachim von Ribbentrop, the Foreign Minister, and the American Ambassador, Joseph Kennedy.” She put her hands behind her back and paced the floor in a cocky manner. “We are all agreed that England would do well to listen to Neville Chamberlain. Britain isn’t ready for war, and Americans don’t have the stomach for another war. Americans are weak and more concerned with jazz and having fun than they are with world affairs, especially when those affairs are in Europe and not in her own backyard. Ha ha ha.”

  Everyone chuckled, but there was something sad behind the laughter.

  Lord William huffed. “Bloody fool.”

  “Britain will be ready for war when the time comes,” Victor said.

  Lady Penelope choked back a sob. She quickly turned and took out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.

  Lady Clara’s face drooped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make light of the situation, but that man just makes me so angry.”

  “I know, dear.” Lady Elizabeth smiled at her young cousin.

  Just then, the door flew open and a young girl with dark curls raced into the room and flung herself into the arms of Lady Elizabeth, who managed to move her knitting needles out of the way just in time to avoid injuring the small child.

  “Rivka, what are you doing awake at this time of night?” Lady Elizabeth feigned a tone of reproach but was unable to sustain it in the face of the vivacious child. She smiled and gave her a hug. “Where are your—”

  Two thin, pale young boys of twelve with dark hair and eyes rushed into the room and halted quickly when they saw the crowd assembled.

  “Brothers?” Lady Elizabeth finished.

  Despite their expensive, well-made clothes, which Lady Elizabeth had purchased from Harrods on her recent trip into town, there was something about the children that marked them as being foreigners before they even opened their mouths to speak, whether it was the hungry desperate look that Lady Elizabeth sometimes noted or the fear that flashed in their eyes when they saw men in uniform. The children had arrived a few months earlier as part of the Kindertransport, a program that rescued Jewish children from Germany, Poland, and other Eastern European nations to the United Kingdom. The children hadn’t been at Wickfield Lodge long, but in the short time, they had managed to endear themselves to Lady Elizabeth and the rest of the Marsh household.

  At age two, Rivka was the youngest. Her twin brothers, Josiah and Johan, were her protectors. Although they had gained weight and their eyes were brighter, there was still a hunger that looked from their eyes that had nothing to do with food.

  Penelope’s eyes softened as she looked at the children, and she unconsciously placed a hand to her stomach.

  Lady Elizabeth beckoned for the boys to enter and then patted the sofa. She had been working on her German so she could communicate with the children better, but she had quite a long way to go. In the meantime, gestures worked fairly well.

  The boys hurried to the sofa and then jostled to see who would sit closest to Lady Elizabeth. The end result was Lady Elizabeth sitting on the end of the sofa with Rivka on her lap. One of the twins, she thought it was Johan, sat to her right, and Josiah perched on the sofa arm.

  “Have you washed?” Lady Elizabeth said slowly. “Washed?” She made a circular motion around her face.

  Victor chuckled. “Let me try.” He turned to the boys. “Hast du dich gewaschen?”

  Josiah and Johan nodded vigorously. “Ja. Ja.”

  Rivka giggled and shook her head. “Nein.”

  Lady Elizabeth glanced down at the little waif and gave her a hug. “Then you will need a bath and then off to bed you go.”

  She started to rise when the door opened and a tall, thin, stiff man with dark hair, which he slicked down with pomade to hide an unruly cowlick, piercing blue eyes, and a curl to his lip limped into the room. “Ah, here. I was just about to ask your butler where everyone had gotten to when I heard the commotion.” He looked down his nose at the boys.

  The atmosphere in the room changed, and Lady Elizabeth shivered.

  A heavy sigh escaped from Lady Penelope, and she turned her back and walked to the window.

  Lady Clara folded her arms across her chest and glared.

  Lord William stuffed his pipe in his mouth and clamped down.

  Detective Inspector Covington and Victor exchanged glances and struggled to find so
mething to say to ease the tension.

  Rivka leaned in closer to Lady Elizabeth and hid her face.

  Josiah and Johan became stiff, and Lady Elizabeth noticed the fear that was always just under the surface had risen to the top.

  Lady Elizabeth snuggled Rivka tighter. “Captain Jessup, you caught us enjoying a moment of family time before the children went up to bed.”

  “Looks like I arrived just in time.” His lips twisted into what he must have assumed was a smile but looked more like a grimace. He sauntered over to Lady Clara and stood closer than propriety allowed. “Seeing as Victor and I are cousins, and he’s now married into this lovely family . . .” He caressed Lady Clara’s cheek with his finger.

  She swiped away his hand as though swatting an annoying fly and glared at the ill-mannered visitor.

  Lady Elizabeth saw Detective Inspector Covington’s hands tighten into fists as he abruptly rose from his seat.

  “As I was saying,” Captain Jessup said, “now that Victor has married into this lovely family, that makes me a member of the family.” He gave a sly glance toward the Scotland Yard detective, which seemed to say, I’m part of this family and you are not.

  Detective Inspector Covington read the glance, and a red flush rose from his neck.

  Captain Jessup threw back his head and laughed.

  Victor stood from his chair. “Now, see here, I—”

  Just as things were getting heated, the door opened and a small man with curly, dark hair, glasses, and a moustache appeared. “Ah, there you are.”

  Lady Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Joseph, please come in. I think you know everyone else here.” She glanced around the room. “Except perhaps Captain Jessup.” She extended an arm in the direction of the visitor. “He’s a new acquaintance.”

  A slight hint of color on the Captain’s ears indicated he recognized the slight.

  Lady Elizabeth turned to the captain. “Captain Jessup, let me introduce you to Joseph Mueller. Joseph is a brilliant scientist at the University of Cambridge and is married to Thompkins’s daughter, Mary.”