Murder in Black Tie

by Sara Rosett

  “You shouldn’t underestimate Jasper.” Where was he? If he didn’t show up soon, I’d be sorry I’d defended him.

  Deena let out a huff. “That peacock? I’ve no worries there. You, on the other hand, are a concern. But while I’m in some tropical country—I’ve heard South America is lovely, warm and exotic and very welcoming of well-to-do foreigners—I’ll hire an excellent firm of solicitors to squash any rumors or innuendo that you might circulate about me. Then I’ll hire some grubby individuals who will grind your reputation into dust. When they’re finished with you, no one will believe a word you say. You’ll be thoroughly discredited. Now, where’s the note? Is it in your little hidey-hole there in the wall? My maid told me all about the nooks and crannies behind the wainscoting. Go on—open it and get the note out, along with Bobby’s file.”

  “Note?” I asked.

  “Yes, the note.” Impatience laced her tone. “You’ve been snooping and searching. And you said you know this house well. You must have found it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come now, you don’t expect me to believe that.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” What was Jasper doing? Had he gone to the drawing room to gather reinforcements? I really had no idea what note Deena was asking about, and I didn’t think I could stave her off much longer.

  Deena tilted her head and said to herself, “Perhaps it was a bluff. Although, why he’d mention it with his dying breath, I don’t know.”

  Surely, she wasn’t talking about her cousin Bobby. He’d died years ago and the chances of anyone finding a note from him were miniscule. “Mr. Payne mentioned a note?”

  “Yes, frustrating man. It had all gone perfectly up to that point. I accidentally dropped the envelope full of cash that I’d brought, he bent to retrieve it, and I smashed him on the head with the spade I’d hidden in the foliage before he arrived. It was only as I was dragging him across the conservatory floor that he murmured something about the note. Unfortunately, he didn’t live long enough for me to get any more details out of him about it.” She looked at her watch and blew out a little breath. “Well, I’ll just have to find it myself.” She motioned with the tip of the gun, flicking it toward the cupboard. “Get me Bobby’s file.”

  I wasn’t about to turn my back to her. When I didn’t move, she took a few steps to the middle of the room and planted her feet on the pale green leaf pattern at the center of the oriental rug. She clasped both hands around the pistol’s handle. “Go on.”

  I did the only thing I could think of. I squinted and said, “I think you’ve lost one of your earrings.”

  I ducked, and in the second she jerked her hand up to check her earlobe, a wet sponge came hurtling through the bath door and splotched against Deena’s face.

  I stayed behind the bed as she wiped the water away and whirred toward the bath. A long-handled bath brush gyrated through the air and grazed her shoulder.

  She fired. A splintered hole appeared in the doorframe. Ears buzzing from the bang of the pistol, I crawled around the end of the bed, grabbed the fringe-covered edge of the carpet Deena stood on, and yanked. She stumbled sideways and knocked against the lacquered screen. The impact folded one panel back and the screen toppled, the edge of the divider’s heavy oak frame falling squarely on Deena’s upper leg. A snap—the sound of a bone breaking, I realized—made my stomach turn.

  Jasper came out of the bath. “Are you all right?” he asked me as he kicked the pistol, which had landed a few feet away from Deena, out of her reach. She didn’t seem to care about the pistol at all. She was gripping her leg and moaning.

  I stood up from my crouching position. “Yes, I believe so,” I said, but I pressed a hand to the bed to steady myself. The pressure on the mattress caused the birdcage to tilt and the fabric fell back, revealing Mr. Quigley. He twisted his head around, eyeing first us, then Deena.

  Jasper said, “I believe Deena’s passed out. Not surprising. That’s a nasty break.”

  “What took you so long?” The rush of anxiety and fear pulsing through me made my words shrill. “Were you scrubbing your back in there?”

  “Hardly. I knew you’d want to get all the details from her. I was merely giving you time to extract the truth.”

  Mr. Quigley squawked and flared his wings as he said, “The truth will set you free.”

  “Not in Deena’s case,” Jasper quipped, but his face changed when I didn’t return his smile. “You’re still upset, I see. I promise I had my sponge primed and ready the whole time.” He lifted his arms. Tiny soap bubbles lined his cuffs and sudsy water ran in rivulets down his evening kit. “Thank you for defending me, by the way. Old fop, indeed!”

  I grinned. “Well, you are a bit of a peacock, but you’re certainly not silly or old—well, you can be silly, but I mean that in the nicest sense of the word.”

  “Thank you, my dear—I think.” Jasper, wringing water from his cuffs, smiled as the tension between us faded. He extended an arm. I leaned against him, not minding the dampness that soaked into the back of my dress as his arm came around me.

  A tap sounded on the door. “Olive,” Gwen called. “Are you in there?”

  “Come in,” I said. Jasper stepped back and straightened his lapels as if that would make him more presentable.

  The door inched open. “Olive, dreadful news—” Gwen’s startled gaze went from Deena, who was still half under the Chinese screen, then to Jasper and me. “Goodness! What happened?”

  “Deena killed Mr. Pay—oh, Gwen! Where’s Inspector Longly?” I asked, remembering Deena’s plans for him. A fresh dose of adrenaline raced through me. I had no idea if the police motor had been tampered with, but if even part of what she’d said was true . . .

  Gwen blinked and drew her gaze away from Deena. “That’s what I came to tell you. He’s just left—with Peter. It’s awful. One of the missing photographs was in Peter’s room—”

  I hurried around the bed. “Deena tampered with his motor. She said he’d crash at the turn by the bridge.”

  She stared at me a moment, then dashed around me and out of the room. She crossed the hall to the windows. The drapes ballooned as she yanked them back. Headlights swept across the darkness. “They’re pulling away from the stables now.” She called, “I’ll catch him,” as she ran down the stairs.

  I took a few steps to follow her, then stopped short and looked back into my room. Jasper had picked up the gun. “Go, go. Gwen might need your help.” He settled into an armchair. “I’ll wait here with Miss Lacey.” Jasper crossed one leg over the other. “I doubt she’ll give me any trouble, but do send the police and the doctor along when you have a moment.”

  “I will. Thank you, Jasper.”

  “No worries. I like nothing better than keeping watch over an unconscious murderess. Off you go. Gwen might need you.”

  Gwen had always been a placid soul, progressing through life at a steady pace, but she moved faster now than I’d ever seen her. By the time I rounded the landing above the entry hall, she was already dragging one of the heavy front doors open. The cold air slapped against me as I followed her outside. The police motor’s engine, a low growl, grew louder as it rounded the house.

  Gwen flew down one branch of the double curving staircase to the sweep and darted into the path of the motor. It swung around the corner from the stables, and the headlights illuminated Gwen as she ran toward the car, arms waving.

  The motor veered around her and careened across the lawn, bumping along over the ground until the front headlight clipped the trunk of one of the massive oaks. The motor slowed in an arcing skid that churned up the grass, then it came to a stop.

  Gwen was off and running again the second the motor stopped, and she beat me to it by quite a distance. When I arrived, Peter had emerged from the passenger side and was walking around to the other side, where Longly and Gwen stood shouting at each other.

  “. . . in the blazes were you thinking, jumping in f
ront of us like that?” Longly’s face was pale and he was gesticulating, waving his arm at the motor. “You could have been killed.”

  “If you’ll be quiet for a moment, I’ll tell you,” Gwen said, her hands fisted at her sides. “It was Deena. She killed Mr. Payne.” Gwen threw out her arm toward me. “Olive figured it out, as I knew she would. I don’t know the details, but Deena did something to your motor to cause an accident. You might have gone into the river if I hadn’t stopped you.”

  “So you ran out and put yourself in the motor’s path?” Longly closed the distance between them but didn’t lower his voice. “Of all the idiotic, foolish things—”

  “I had to stop you. I love you and couldn’t let you just drive off.” Gwen’s exasperated voice lifted over his ranting.

  Longly froze, his words cutting off as if he’d been turned to stone. He studied her face for a moment, then said, “Love—?” He cleared his throat. “You love me?”

  Gwen looked mortified.

  “Well, there’s no taking that back,” I said to Gwen as I gave her a gentle shove, which brought her a few steps closer to Longly.

  Her gaze was locked on Longly, and I don’t think she realized I’d touched her. She had pressed both hands to her mouth, but she nodded her head.

  Longly’s expression softened. He put his hand on her cheek.

  Peter stepped forward. “I say, I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

  Longly didn’t hear him. He was completely absorbed in Gwen.

  I put a hand through Peter’s elbow and pulled him back toward the house. “I think they’ll finally be able to work things out now. Let me tell you what’s happened . . .”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next morning as Hannah packed my luggage, I rubbed my eyes and poured myself another cup of tea. It had been the early hours of the morning before I’d retired to bed. Deena would soon be charged with Payne’s murder, and we were all free to go.

  After everything calmed down and Longly was able to tear himself away from Gwen, I’d been in the middle of describing Deena’s missing pair of shoes to Longly when the sergeant who’d been taking notes put down his pencil and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir.”

  Longly had looked up from his notebook as the sergeant continued, “I believe I saw a shoe in the incinerator when I searched it. It was over to the side and was only somewhat charred. I didn’t remove it because we were only looking for photographs at that point.”

  Longly had sent him to check the incinerator, and the sergeant returned with a single woman’s shoe. “I could only find the one, sir,” he’d said apologetically. A charred, smoky smell had come from the bundle he held—he’d wrapped his find in an old newspaper—but the shoe itself was intact, and there was enough fabric attached to the heel to show it had once been royal blue.

  At that point the doctor was tending to Deena, setting her leg. Longly had told the sergeant to take Deena to the police station as soon as they finished, using one of the estate’s motors because the steering on the police motor wasn’t working.

  I reached for the teapot as I contemplated my luggage, which Hannah had stacked by the door before she left my room. In the last few days, Payne’s murder had eclipsed my worries about finding new lodgings, but with Peter cleared of suspicion, my problem of a lack of living quarters came into sharp focus again.

  A tap on my door sounded, and Gwen poked her head in. “Oh, good. You’re awake.” She noticed my suitcase and valise. “And ready to travel, I see.”

  “Yes. The problem is I’m not sure where I’m going.”

  Gwen sat down on the bed. “Will you return to London?”

  “I’ll have to. I do have a few more days in Mrs. Gutler’s boardinghouse. After that, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Perhaps I could leave my extra trunks and boxes here?”

  “Of course. And you know you can return and stay here as well—or stay on now.”

  “No, I couldn’t do that. I’ll have to press ahead until I find some kind of lodging in London, even if it is a dingy little room or a damp flat. I like what I’m doing, helping people.”

  “Well, you certainly helped Peter. He was off at dawn to check on his bees. Then he has a meeting later today about distributing the honey to Nether Woodsmoor and other villages in the area. There’s even a possibility of selling it to shops in London.”

  “That’s wonderful.” I put my cup down. Gwen knew Peter better than anyone else. “Do you think this incident has set him back?”

  Gwen considered a moment before she answered. “It was grim there for a while, but this morning he looked quite sunny and optimistic—well, as sunny and optimistic as one can look with a bruised eye. It’s a horrid yellowish-green today, but that means it’s nearly healed up, thank goodness.” She gave a small nod. “I think he’ll be fine, especially if he can continue his outdoor pursuits and take on more responsibility from Father. If he stays busy, it helps him.”

  Gwen reached up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, and I sat forward. “Gwen, is that a new ring?”

  A slow smile spread across her face as she extended her hand toward me, fingers splayed and palm down. “Yes, it is.”

  I admired the ring as she angled her hand so the small stone caught the light. “It’s gorgeous,” I said. “And it’s just like you to ask after me first this morning, instead of telling me your news.”

  With her cheeks flushing a bright pink, she adjusted the stone so that it was in the center of her finger. “Lucas gave it to me last evening.”

  “After you saved him.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say I saved him—”

  “You saved him,” I said emphatically. “That turn by the river is dangerous.” Gwen shifted on the bed, and I could tell she was uncomfortable with the praise. “It’s true,” I said.

  “Well, whatever the case, it finally convinced him that I loved him.”

  “He didn’t understand that before?”

  “He had some silly idea that I wouldn’t want to be the wife of a policeman. As if it matters to me whether I live in Parkview Hall or in his small flat in London—which isn’t damp or poky, by the way.”

  “I imagine not. He’s one of Scotland Yard’s stars, I think. He has a bright future ahead of him.”

  “I certainly think so.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He’s with Ross now, examining the police motor. Ross said the new young man he hired to help in the garden a few weeks ago has disappeared.” Gwen wrinkled her nose. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. I’ll have to learn to be much more discreet as an inspector’s wife.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. You know it won’t go any farther.”

  “You are discreet, and I’m sure the news will be all over Parkview and the village in a few hours.”

  “So, the man is gone?”

  “Yes, Ross saw him leaving the stables at a time that he had no reason to be in there. The word in the servant’s hall is that he stopped into the White Duck last evening and bought a round for everyone, saying he’d had a windfall, then he caught a ride to Upper Benning. Deena must have paid him off to sabotage the motor.”

  “It seems throwing money around to get what she wanted was a habit of hers.”

  “Well, Lucas says all the money in the world won’t help her now.”

  A brisk rap on the door sounded, and Sonia entered, then stopped short on the threshold. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll return later.”

  Gwen stood. “No, I’ll leave you two.” She paused at the door. “Olive, don’t make any plans for June just yet.”

  Gwen closed the door, and Sonia took a few steps into the room, then hesitated, her hands clasped together at her waist.

  “It seems there will be a double wedding in June,” I said, then wished I could bite my tongue because Sonia was so set on seeing me married.

  But she surprised me and only said, “I hope Gwen and the inspector are very happy together.” Sonia cleared her t
hroat. “I said some hurtful things yesterday, and I’ve come to apologize.”

  Sonia did look like someone who’d been called to the headmistress’s office. I gestured to a chair for her as I said, “You’re not the only one who should apologize. I had some rather dark suspicions of you, and I’m sorry for that.”

  Sonia sat, back straight, hands clasped together in her lap. “Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I can see how you might suspect I was involved in the death. I didn’t understand when I asked you to help me that you were interested in finding the truth. I could only think about protecting myself, keeping my secret. But you wanted to know what really happened. I see now that you pursue truth for the people you help in the same way I’d help a patient pursue recovery.”

  If I hadn’t been sitting down, I would have taken a seat abruptly.

  Sonia gave a little laugh and looked down at her linked fingers. “You’re shocked I said that. Whether or not you believe it, I do admire you. I thought marriage would be the best thing for you, but it appears you’ve found something that suits you.” A hint of a grin crossed her face. “At least for now. Don’t completely write off the married state.”

  “Speaking of that,” I said, “I will keep your secret.”

  Sonia let out a sigh and her posture loosened. “You don’t have to keep that secret—at least not from your father. I told him everything last night, so now I don’t care if Inspector Longly discovers I was once married to Simon Adams, who eventually became Mr. Payne. It’s a massive weight off my shoulders. However, the inspector doesn’t seem inclined to dig deeper into the past of Mr. Payne. Inspector Longly said there’s ample evidence against Miss Lacey.”

  “How did Father take the news?” I asked.

  “I was so worried he’d be angry, but he wasn’t cross. He was disappointed I hadn’t told him—and hurt.” She paused, took a deep breath, and went on, “Your father has high standards, but he’s also forgiving. Cecil told me he wished I’d trusted him enough to tell him the truth, but he’d made many mistakes of his own. Things are a bit—tense—between us now, but I think we’ll get through it.”