by Sara Rosett
Ross removed his cap and returned the greeting.
“Find any interesting plants?” I asked as I started for the path.
“Possibly. The moss is an unusual color.”
“Interesting. You might have to take a bit of it back to Parkview.”
“That I might,” he said as we passed him and walked up the path. I was sure he’d eat lunch and then examine all the plants within walking distance. He’d probably return to Parkview with several cuttings for the greenhouse.
Jasper transferred the picnic basket to his other hand and pulled a telegram out of his pocket. “This came for you shortly before we gathered for this outing. I told Brimble I’d give it to you. I didn’t think you’d want everyone to see it.”
I ripped it open. “And you didn’t mention it before?”
“As soon as we were settled in your motor, you launched into your list of what you’d been doing.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I said. “I didn’t want to forget anything. I need to jot down all the details. There’s something about seeing each piece of information in black and white on a piece of paper that helps it stick in my brain. Sorry I dominated the drive.”
“No need to apologize. You were quite succinct.” Jasper tilted his head to the telegram I’d skimmed. “Unlike that telegram.”
It was indeed long for a telegram, but there was a lot of information to convey.
“Yes, but worth every penny. It’s from Boggs. He says Vincent Payne, Simon Adams, and Sonia Bernard—that was her maiden name—did live in Clifton Green. Simon’s name is listed on the cenotaph in the village, and the village postmistress says Sonia and Simon ran away and married without the approval of Sonia’s father. Sonia never returned to the village, and her father moved to Hastings.” I folded the telegram and put it in the pocket of my dress. “At least we know that much of her story is true.”
“I had some success with my inquiries this afternoon as well,” Jasper said.
“Oh, that’s speedy. I thought it might take days.” We’d reached the steeper section of the climb, which meant I had to take large strides to keep up with Jasper’s longer ones.
“I was able to get in touch with my friend, who happens to owe me money from a card game. He was more than willing to make a special trip to locate a few files and pass on some general information.”
“And in exchange, you forgave his debt. Thank you, Jasper. I’ll pay you back.”
“That’s not necessary. It’s for Peter,” he said as we rounded the switchback turn and paused. A few more feet, and we’d be at the top. Jasper wasn’t even winded from the climb, but I was glad for a moment to catch my breath. I turned away from the crown of the hill and looked in the opposite direction at Parkview, which glowed a warm gold against the patchwork brown and beige of the empty flowerbeds around it.
Jasper spoke quietly as he adjusted the brim of his hat to shade his eyes. “I was able to confirm Payne and Adams were in the same platoon, which was almost completely wiped out. Payne”—Jasper made quote marks in the air—“survived, along with a man named Thaddeus Lessing.”
I turned to him. “Perhaps Mr. Lessing—no?”
Jasper shook his head. “Lessing survived that battle but died in nineteen eighteen. Pneumonia.”
“Oh. Well, at least now we know parts of Sonia’s story—and Mr. Payne’s—were true. I just wish Father hadn’t drifted off to sleep yesterday afternoon. What an inconvenient time for a nap. If he’d given Sonia an alibi, I’d have believed it.”
“Do you really think Sonia was involved in Mr. Payne’s death?”
“She’s resourceful and ruthless. I don’t care what she says about Mr. Payne promising to leave quietly at the end of the party. He was a threat to her.”
Gwen appeared above us on the path. “There you are. We’re waiting for you. You have the rest of the sandwiches.”
We followed Gwen up the last turn of the path and emerged into the flat open space at the top of the hill. The full force of the wind smacked us, and I clamped my hat on my head. Aunt Caroline, Miss Miller, and Sonia were seated on a blanket in a sheltered corner created by the intersection of two crumbling walls, which were only a few feet high. Gigi sat on a rock a little distance from them, bent over as she tried to light a cigarette in the blustery air.
On the opposite side of the clearing, a single wall of the castle still stood almost intact. Two stories of pointed gothic windows, empty of glass, looked out over the countryside and framed the beautiful rolling hills, which were a patchwork of brown and muted greens crisscrossed with dry stone walls. In the distance blurry white dots, a flock of sheep, moved lazily across a pasture. Deena and Captain Inglebrook stood next to each other at one window, the wind tugging at their clothes. Deena had changed into one of the sporty new Chanel tweed suits. A feather curved down from her toque to her cheek, emphasizing the elongated shape of her face.
A few feet beyond the wall, the ground fell away in a sheer drop. There was something about the partially intact wall and window that overlooked the view that drew everyone to it. It was always the first place people went when they arrived at the top of the hill, and we were no different. Jasper, Gwen, and I joined Deena and Inglebrook at the window. Deena pointed. “Look over there on the other side of the ravine. Isn’t that Peter?”
I shaded my eyes and spotted Peter’s dark hair and lean form. He was nimbly navigating the steep trail that dropped down to the base of the gorge.
Deena leaned out the window and swept her arm back and forth. “Yoo-hoo!” Her enthusiastic wave caused her to overbalance, and she tilted out the window toward the ravine.
Chapter Seventeen
Captain Inglebrook caught Deena’s elbow and drew her back. “Careful there. That’s quite the drop. Wouldn’t want you to fall.”
Deena smiled and put a hand on the lapel of his coat. “I know you’d never let anything like that happen to me.”
“Well, I certainly couldn’t let a lady tumble down the hill right beside me.”
Deena turned her attention back to the view. “What happened to Peter? I don’t see him anymore.”
“He saw us,” Jasper said. “He’ll make his way over.”
Aunt Caroline called to us. I picked my way across the rubble-strewn field behind Gwen, still holding my hat on my head until I reached the sheltered corner.
“Whew.” The wind had tugged Gwen’s fair hair out of the knot at the nape of her neck. She tucked the long strands behind her ears. “I’m glad these old walls can still block the wind.” She dropped down onto the blanket beside Miss Miller. “Jasper’s brought the rest of the sandwiches.”
“Thank you, Jasper,” Aunt Caroline said as he set down the picnic basket.
I felt Sonia’s intense gaze on me. She sent me a questioning look, and I gave a tiny shake of my head to indicate I’d found nothing conclusive. Sonia seemed to shrink into herself, her normally stiff posture collapsing.
Miss Miller hadn’t noticed our silent exchange or the change in Sonia’s bearing. “It’s so nice to have a man about,” Miss Miller said with a smile at Jasper, then she sighed. “I do so miss dear Winston. He would have loved the view here. And he was so good at seeing to things—now I have to sort out the household accounts and financial matters.” She pressed a hand into the blanket and leaned toward Aunt Caroline, speaking across Sonia. “Do you know the butcher insists I owe him five pounds. Five pounds! I know that’s not right. Winston wouldn’t have stood for it. Mr. Johnson—the butcher, you know—wouldn’t have argued with Winston. It is difficult to be a woman and deal with tradespeople.”
“Oh, pish.” Deena tucked her skirt under her knees as she settled on the blanket. “You don’t need a man for that. I deal with tradesmen all the time. You just have to tell them what’s what and not take any guff.”
“I don’t think I could do that,” Miss Miller said, her eyes round.
Sonia nibbled on a sandwich, her gaze focused on the blanket. She didn’t
seem to be listening to the conversation going on around her. Her face still had the same strained quality it had earlier, and I felt a tug of sympathy for her—something I never thought I’d feel. I’d have to get her alone for a few moments and tell her that Jasper and I were making progress, but be sure to keep it in vague terms.
Deena reached for a sandwich. “Just be firm. My Uncle Jason had that same attitude—that women couldn’t handle money. If my poor cousin Bobby hadn’t died in the war, Uncle Jason would have left everything to Bobby simply because Bobby was a man.” Deena waved her sandwich at Gwen. “You remember Bobby. You can’t say he would have been a better manager than me.”
Gwen hesitated. “I didn’t know him all that well.”
I did remember Bobby Stanton. He was a jolly, happy-go-lucky young man with curly reddish hair, who always had lemon drops in his pockets. He hadn’t been sober-minded in the least. If he’d inherited Jason Stanton’s fortune, I imagined he’d have spent it with abandon, just as Deena was—except Bobby would probably throw elaborate parties and invite everyone. Deena had a tendency to spend her money only on herself. Gwen glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, a silent plea to extricate her from the conversation. Gwen hated to be critical of anyone—well, except for Inspector Longly. She seemed to have no qualms about that.
Before I could speak, Aunt Caroline thumped down another plate of sandwiches. “Let’s not speak ill of the dead. Whatever his qualities in the financial arena would have been, the poor boy died an honorable death in service to his country. Let’s not belittle him.”
Deena dropped her gaze and brushed crumbs from her skirt. “I didn’t mean to sound disapproving. I miss him more than anyone.” Miss Miller tilted her head in an inquiring manner and Deena explained, “He and I were the only cousins on my mother’s side.”
“Indeed,” Miss Miller murmured. “Well, you young women are so independent-minded, like my Aunt Ethel. She had an interesting life. Such adventures! She traveled the world—”
Aunt Caroline offered the plate of cream cakes, diverting Miss Miller from launching into the biography of her aunt. Gwen said quickly, “You were right, Mother, it’s very pleasant up here in the shelter of the wall with the sun shining.”
“You could almost forget it’s November,” I said.
The conversation turned to the vagaries of the weather and upcoming plans for bridge parties. With Aunt Caroline guiding the conversation, we avoided any mention of Payne or murder. The topic of the history of Cormont Castle came up, and as we finished our tea, Gwen gave an entertaining summary of the family’s history, which included a lingering ghost.
“Are you sure you won’t have a sandwich?” Aunt Caroline asked Gigi, proffering the almost empty plate. Gigi had been sitting a little distance away, smoking as she watched Captain Inglebrook and Deena. They’d sat side by side a little apart from our group. She stubbed out her cigarette. “Thank you, but no. I’m going to wander around and find a quiet place to have a rest in the sun,” she said with a steady gaze on Captain Inglebrook.
Her intent gaze must have communicated something to Inglebrook. He was on his feet in an instant. “Wonderful. I’ll join you.” Gigi slipped her arm through his elbow and they strolled off.
I thought Deena would have scrambled up and gone with them, but she’d just taken a slice of cake and was chewing the first bite.
Sonia put her plate down. “I believe a brisk walk is what I need as well.” She marched away at a quick pace, passing Gigi and Inglebrook as they ambled along.
Aunt Caroline stacked the empty plates but put aside some sandwiches and cakes for Peter. “I brought my charcoals. I believe I’ll do a quick sketch of Parkview.” She nodded to the estate in the distance. She went to a break in the walls and settled herself on a tumbled stone, her back to us. Deena gulped down the cake, then set off in the same direction Gigi and Inglebrook had gone. They’d ducked through a gap in the wall on the side of the ruin that opened onto a short stretch of flat, open land at the top of the hill.
Miss Miller leaned back against the wall. “I believe I’ll just rest here in the sun.” She folded her hands across her waist and closed her eyes.
Gwen dusted her fingers and tilted her head toward the tall wall with the windows. Jasper and I followed her across the field. She leaned against one of the windowsills, her back to the strong breeze that swept across the ravine. “I have Mr. Payne’s movements.” She took a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it.
“Excellent,” I said.
“It all seems fairly straightforward,” Gwen said. “Mr. Payne arrived around midmorning on Thursday and spent most of that day with Father, discussing maps.” She pointed the paper at me. “Which reminds me. I spoke to Father before we left for the picnic. He met Mr. Payne at his club. Another club member who’d bought a map from Mr. Payne, old Mr. Carsley, introduced him to Father. Gave Mr. Payne a glowing recommendation, and Father invited him—Mr. Payne, that is—to Parkview on the spot.”
“So, no connection there.” Disappointment darted through me. I’d hoped that Payne’s invitation had hinged on a relationship that would give us a link to another guest, but that wasn’t the case. I shook off the dispirited feeling. “We’ll just have to keep searching. There must be a connection somewhere.”
“Right.” Gwen went back to her list. “After he and Father finished in the study, Mr. Payne joined us for lunch. Deena and I left for the village, and while we were gone, he suggested a walk in the woods with Gigi.”
“And we know how that turned out,” I said.
“Yes, then we were all together for dinner and music later that evening.”
I mentally penciled in his brief talk with Sonia in the courtyard before dinner on Thursday, but I didn’t add it to Gwen’s list.
“On Friday,” Gwen continued, “Mr. Payne breakfasted late and then went on the house tour with Mother. Afterward, Mr. Payne stayed behind while we all went to the maze.”
I said, “He went to the library to look at the photographs from when Parkview was a hospital.”
Gwen took a pencil out of her pocket and added a note.
“At least I assume that’s what he did,” I added. “Aunt Caroline mentioned the photos, and he headed to the library as soon as the tour ended.”
Gwen tapped the page with the pencil. “He joined us for tea when we returned from the maze, then he went up to his room. Fillmore served as his valet that evening, and he says he helped Mr. Payne dress and was dismissed shortly before seven. Brimble saw Mr. Payne come downstairs a little after seven and go down the passageway to the conservatory.”
Gwen flipped the page over and consulted a new list. “Now for last evening. Brimble was in and out of the entry hall as he oversaw preparations in the drawing room as well as in the dining room. This is the order he remembers everyone arriving. Mother and Father were early—before seven—and went to the drawing room. They don’t like a guest to arrive to an empty room. Mr. Payne came down and went into the conservatory. A few minutes later Miss Miller arrived and went directly to the drawing room. Next were Gigi, Captain Inglebrook, and Deena. Deena went to the sitting room while Gigi and Captain Inglebrook went to the drawing room.”
“I’d forgotten my lighter,” a voice said, and we turned to peer out of the window. Deena was picking her way along the ledge above the ravine.
Gwen held out a hand through the window. “Gracious, Deena, what are you doing over there?”
“Exploring a bit.” Deena didn’t take Gwen’s hand but continued placing one foot directly in front of the other. “I have excellent balance.” She wobbled a bit, extended one arm over the sheer drop as she steadied herself, then took the last few steps and hopped up to the windowsill. She swung her legs over so that she was sitting beside Gwen. “See? Nothing to it. Are we trying to figure out who murdered Mr. Payne? I’ll play.”
Gwen frowned at her. “It isn’t a game. The inspector thinks Peter was involved, and we’re trying to prove he was
n’t.”
“Sorry,” Deena said, but she didn’t look contrite at all. “I want to help. I went into the sitting room to fetch my lighter. Someone had left a magazine on the sofa, and it had the most divine dress on the cover. I sat down and flipped through the whole thing.”
Gwen jotted that down, then went on, “Peter came down next and went to the conservatory as he usually does. Sonia and your father came down next to last, Olive, closer to seven thirty.”
“Father said Sonia was reading to him until it was time to dress for dinner.”
Gwen made another note on her page. “And finally, you, Olive.”
“And that’s when Deena met me in the hall and dragged me into the conservatory.” I turned to Deena. “When did you go into the conservatory?”
“No idea. I finished with the magazine and thought it would be fun to bring Mr. Quigley down to the conservatory, so I popped along there to see if it was empty, and—well, you know what happened then.”
“Right,” I said.
Gwen folded the paper. “How I wish I’d been ready early, but I stepped on my hem as I was getting dressed, and it had to be sewn back up before I could leave.”
Jasper, who’d been listening with his eyes closed and his face tilted up to the sun, opened his eyes. “Why did Mr. Payne go into the conservatory?”
We all looked at each other.
“Houseguests would normally go to the drawing room,” he said. “Why the conservatory?”
“You mean, was it a spur of the moment decision, or had he arranged to meet someone there?” I asked.
“Yes. He’d visited the conservatory earlier,” Jasper said. “Perhaps he wanted to look at the flowers and plants again?”
“He didn’t show any interest in them during the tour,” Deena said. “He stayed by the fountain and didn’t stroll around with us while Lady Caroline told us about the rare plants.”
Gwen said, “If Mr. Payne was meeting someone there . . .”
Deena jumped down from the windowsill, her face excited. “Find out who it was, and perhaps you’ll find his murderer.”