Murder at the Tea Party

by Sonia Parin

  She had told both Sara and Henrietta about Charlie Timms, making them swear they wouldn’t spread the story around. Phillipa also knew about him. She had seen Charlie Timms outside the tea room and she hadn’t been at all surprised by the news, agreeing he would be the most likely candidate to have lured two women to their ruin. She also doubted he would have it in him to kill them.

  Evie wondered if his magnetism somehow charmed women into believing he could do no wrong.

  How much trouble would she get into if she didn’t pass on the information to the police? And if she did tell them about Charlie Timms, would the police be discreet about it? She would hate to be responsible for blemishing anyone’s reputation without being able to provide absolute proof of wrongdoing.

  So far, they had two unfortunate souls who’d fallen prey to a killer and had also been carrying on an affair with Charlie Timms. As the inspector had said, too many coincides become suspicious. Regardless, Evie thought they needed to dig deeper and find a reasonable motive.

  Turning, Evie saw a familiar motor car. She had seen one just like it not long ago. Putting her hand on Tom’s sleeve, she said, “How would you feel about engaging that chauffeur in conversation and finding out who the owner of that motor car is?”

  Tom gave her a brisk smile. “I would be delighted as I’m sure that’s the answer you expected.”

  “Well, yes. Thank you.” She’d had a hunch about the motor car and had used it to get Charlie Timms to admit he’d been having an affair. Confirmation of the car’s owner would be something solid to take to the inspector. Although, it still wouldn’t point the finger of guilt at Charlie Timms. Only a solid motive would do that. Of course, he could just be a cold-blooded murderer who didn’t need a reason to kill.

  “Do you have any last-minute instructions for us?” Henrietta asked.

  “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you the Howard-Smith family is burying one of their own today so we should take care to avoid antagonizing anyone here.”

  Henrietta’s slightly lifted eyebrows suggested she held a different opinion.

  “Do you have something to add, Henrietta?”

  “I’m not sure I dare to since you just now told me to mind my manners.”

  Evie gave Henrietta an impish smile. “You know I meant well. I only wish to avoid involving the Woodridge family in a scandal.”

  “And yet you find yourself caught up in this web of intrigue. Your very presence here is bound to set everyone talking about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you are turned away at the church steps.”

  Oh, she hadn’t thought of that.

  “I shouldn’t worry too much about it,” Henrietta offered. “The committee ladies are causing quite a distraction with their whimpering. They might be wondering which one of them will be next.”

  “Is that supposed to comfort me?”

  “Well, if you wish to play it safe, you might want to lower your head as we enter the church. And try to look contrite.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I must say, it has been quite some time since I last saw a service so well attended,” Henrietta observed. “I would be inclined to say it does Mrs. Howard-Smith credit, however, I fear most people came expecting to witness a spectacle.”

  Turning slightly, Evie caught sight of Detective Inspector O’Neill standing near a column. Had he come to make an arrest or did he wish to merely observe?

  A hushed murmur swept through the church. She hadn’t been the only one to notice him. A discreet glance around confirmed he had not brought his constables. Evie hoped that meant he would not be arresting anyone today. At least, not here.

  Tom joined them just as the organist began playing the opening hymn.

  “Abide With Me,” Henrietta murmured. “What an odd choice of hymn. If she didn’t abide in life, what hope will she have of doing so in the afterlife?”

  Evie waited until the hymn ended to prompt Tom. “Well?” she whispered.

  “The car belongs to the Howard-Smith family.”

  Evie stared straight ahead. Her suppositions about the affair between Mrs. Howard-Smith and Charlie Timms had sounded so far-fetched, even after Charlie had confirmed it, she had struggled to believe it. And yet, she had seen the woman’s car driving away from Hollyhock Farm with her own eyes.

  The local stud had claimed he had tried to end the affair. He had sounded sincere but what if that had been part of his arsenal of weapons to maintain his innocence?

  Evie couldn’t claim to have any experience with suave men. She’d spoken with Charlie and had found him charming, in a rustic sort of way. Even if he hadn’t said a word, she would have been captivated by his good looks.

  Had he simply told her a convincing lie to save his own neck?

  She shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the idea of eating out of anyone’s hands.

  Evie spent most of the service trying to come up with a motive and more suspects. As ludicrous as it sounded, she played around with the idea of a third affair with a woman so enraged by Charlie Timms’ philandering, she decided to get rid of her competition.

  The more she thought about it, the more absurd it sounded and yet, she wanted to share it with Tom, but everyone had fallen into a silent prayer. Even a whispered murmur would have drawn attention to her.

  Slanting her gaze, she looked at Mrs. Browning.

  She too had been held enthralled by the sight of Charlie Timms.

  As a doctor’s wife, she might have access to dangerous substances. Evie sat up. They’d been having so many committee meetings, she would also have had the perfect opportunity to put a nefarious plan into action.

  Could she be the third woman?

  If only the police would share more information. Both victims had left Evie’s house in the afternoon and had then fallen ill at night. Whatever had been used to kill them would need several hours to take effect.

  When Mrs. Browning glanced her way again, Evie made a mental note. Whatever happened over the next few days, she would not, under any circumstance, invite Mrs. Browning to tea.

  As the service continued, Evie caught several mourners looking her way. Their expressions remained blank so she had no way of knowing what they hoped to see. But she could imagine them wondering if she’d been responsible for the deaths.

  A nudge from Henrietta alerted her to the presence of several women. “All looking across the aisle and toward the new widower,” Henrietta whispered.

  At some point, Evie thought, they would all have to agree they had attended the service for all the wrong reasons. And to think, they had another one to attend in a few days’ time.

  ***

  “I have a new suspect,” Evie declared as they strode away from the graveside and made their way to their respective vehicles.

  Everyone turned to face her.

  “Mrs. Browning. As the doctor’s wife she would have access to strong medication. If misused, I’m sure some could prove to be fatal.”

  She watched everyone’s eyebrows curve up in surprise.

  Pressing her hand to her chest, Henrietta asked, “That’s what you were thinking about inside the church? It’s almost sacrilegious, I’m sure.”

  “Says the person who kept pointing out prospective husband hunters,” Evie accused lightly.

  “I was merely trying to keep my spirits up. When you reach my age, you realize you are one step closer to the end and there’s no turning back or slowing down time.” Henrietta shivered. “I do hope someone gets married soon. I should like to attend a wedding and toast someone’s good health and happiness. All this commiserating is dreadfully fatiguing.” Looking toward Witford Hall, Henrietta sighed.

  “If you’re not up to going to the house,” Sara said, “we can give it a miss.”

  “That would be highly uncivilized, Sara. We must pay our respects to the family. It is our duty. A Woodridge needs to put in an appearance and I can tell Evangeline is trying to find an excuse not to attend, so the task is left
to us.”

  “I… I haven’t said anything. Fine. Yes, Tom and I will give it a miss. I would like to have another word with Charlie Timms.”

  “You do that,” Henrietta said. “Sara and I will do our best to champion your cause and dissuade anyone who dares to from thinking ill of you.”

  Evie thanked her with a smile. “I strongly advice you play it safe and steer clear of Mrs. Browning. At this point, I don’t know if she’s a prospective victim or the instigator of all these poisonings.”

  “I will go along too,” Phillipa offered. “It will give me a chance to see Witford Hall from the inside.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m still a tourist here and quite curious about all these large houses.”

  “Countess of Woodridge.”

  All three women turned to see Everett Townsend approaching them.

  As they exchanged greetings and general remarks about the turnout at the service, Evie bided her time, waiting for the appropriate moment to ask if he had overheard anything useful. However, Everett spared her the task.

  “You might think this rather morbid, but I overheard a conversation I thought you might find interesting.”

  “Oh, do tell,” Henrietta encouraged.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he leaned in. “The committee ladies are getting jittery.”

  “Let me guess,” Evie said, “they think one of them will be next.”

  “Why… Yes. I suppose you figured it out.”

  Evie decided to tell a small fib, “I think we’re all entertaining the same concerns.” His lifted eyebrow look suggested he might have reason to challenge her remark. “Then again, everyone seems intent on pointing the finger at me. By the way, would you like to come to tea?”

  Everett straightened and Evie half expected him to take a step back.

  “Would you accept a rain check?” he asked. “I have been rather absentminded lately and couldn’t really tell you when I’ll be free.”

  “Yes, of course. We would be delighted to have you over at any time. You know, I have my own special blend of tea. Everyone seems to be enjoying it.”

  This time, he did take a step back and, making his excuses, he left.

  “Evangeline. I believe you enjoyed that far too much,” Henrietta chastised.

  “Oh, perhaps a little.” Watching Everett hurry away, she said, “I have a good mind to suspect him if for no other reason than… Well, he is the least likely suspect, which strikes me as the perfect ruse.” Evie tilted her head in thought. “Yes, I believe I have a new suspect. Is he married?” She had been so preoccupied with everything going on around her, she hadn’t bothered to ask.

  “He is a widower,” Henrietta said.

  “Oh, do we know how his wife died?”

  “A riding accident.” Henrietta gave a pensive nod. “The more I think about it, the more I come to believe we would all fare better if we relied on our own two feet to get about.”

  “Tell that to someone with one leg,” Sara murmured.

  As they continued making their way to their vehicles, Evie wondered if they should try to question Charlie Timms’ neighbor. She had been spying from the tree for a reason.

  “Is this another hunch of yours?” Tom asked. “Sounds to me like you are giving Charlie too much leeway.”

  “I’d like to give him the opportunity to step up and talk to the police on his own volition. If anything, I’m more worried about there being a third lover.”

  “You’re referring to Mrs. Browning.”

  Evie waved to the others. “Yes.”

  “What about the other two committee members?”

  “Suspect the Vicar’s wife? That would be ungodly.”

  “And Mrs. Penn?”

  “She’s one of ours.” At least, she hoped so. Evie settled into the passenger seat. Waiting for Tom to start the car and get them on the way, she straightened her skirt. Finding a loose thread, she gave it a light tug and watched in horror as the hem of her skirt came completely undone. “Oh, dear.”

  Caro!

  Chapter Nineteen

  Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience – Ralph Waldo Emerson

  The Orchard

  Tom stepped away from the gate, saying, “Surprise. Surprise. No one is home.”

  Evie nudged her head. “I beg to differ.” Glancing along the high wall that enclosed the small cottage, Evie set her gaze on the tree. She could just make out a shape. “Hello,” she called out and wanted to add they came in peace and didn’t mean any harm, but she thought the woman might call her out on it. She felt almost certain they were being observed by a woman because she thought she’d seen a mop of bronze curls.

  “You’re trespassing.”

  Aha! Evie turned and gave Tom a bright smile. Introducing herself, Evie apologized for the intrusion. Although, in her opinion, the couldn’t possibly be trespassing when they were still on the other side of the wall. Also… Strictly speaking, they were standing on Woodridge land.

  “I’m Evie Parker, Countess of Woodridge. May I ask to whom I’m speaking?”

  After a long pause, the woman said, “Elizabeth Young… milady.” After another pause, she added, “Begging your pardon, milady. If I’d known it was you, I would have answered the bell.”

  They heard the rustling of leaves and a thump which might have been Elizabeth Young landing on the ground. A moment later, the gate opened.

  Smiling at the young woman, Evie introduced Tom. To her surprise, Elizabeth invited them inside her cottage.

  They were led through to a front parlor furnished with lovely pieces that must have been handed down from generation to generation. At a guess, Evie thought Elizabeth couldn’t be older than twenty-five. She offered them tea and must have had a kettle on the fire because it only took her a few moments to prepare a tray.

  Curiosity prompted Evie to ask, “Do you live here alone?”

  Elizabeth gave a stiff nod and gestured to the chairs by the fireplace. A cabinet on the far side of the room displayed a surprising number of silver pieces such as might be seen in large manor houses.

  “My parents were both taken by the Spanish flu and my brother never came back from the war.”

  “I am so sorry to hear that.” It seemed everyone had been scarred in one way or another. “Your parents lived here?” Even before Elizabeth could answer, Evie saw a collection of photographs on a small side table. “May I?”

  Elizabeth gave a tentative nod. “Those are my parents.”

  The woman looked like a lady. If Evie had to guess, she’d think Elizabeth Young was well connected. Narrowing her gaze, she studied the background on the picture which appeared to be a grand house. “Was this their wedding day?”

  Elizabeth looked at her without blinking. “At my grandfather’s house. He is Baron Craigstone.”

  That made Elizabeth an Honorable. “And you run the orchards by yourself.”

  Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I do, milady. And still running it at a profit.”

  Evie smiled at her. “I have no doubt you are. Everything looks perfect.” Evie set the photograph down. “Do you keep in contact with your grandfather?”

  Elizabeth employed a tone that spoke of defiance when she said, “We correspond.”

  She wondered if barriers had been set in place to deal with the fact the Baron’s daughter had married beneath her.

  “My mother married for love,” Elizabeth said, almost as if she had read Evie’s thoughts.

  “I have no doubt she did.” Taking her seat, she asked, “How do you get on with the agent, Mr. Gregory Wellington?”

  “Well enough.”

  “If you have any issues, feel free to come straight to me.” Since being rushed through the tour of the tenant farms, Evie had felt Mr. Gregory didn’t really care for female interference.

  “I couldn’t help noticing the proximity to Hollyhock Farm.” Evie looked at Tom only to wonder why she had looked at him. Did she need to gain some sort of assurance from him? Regardless, it felt
rather good to see him give her a small nod of encouragement. “Living so close, you would get to see the type of people who visit him. You might even hear some of the conversations.”

  Elizabeth gave her a wary look. “What exactly is it you are asking, my lady?”

  She’d slipped. Why had she pretended to be less than she was by referring to her as milady? Did she have issues with being of noble birth? Although, some people would argue against her right to be considered as such because only her mother had been of noble birth.

  None of it mattered to Evie but…

  Elizabeth might have other ideas if she’d set her cap at someone who might feel inferior to her.

  Elizabeth lifted her chin. “I know you haven’t actually asked me anything yet, but you are trying to lead up to it.”

  Oh, yes. Elizabeth Young could look after herself.

  “I would like to know if you’ve heard any conversations that might be deemed disconcerting.”

  Without hesitating, the young woman asked, “Such as arguing?”

  “Yes.”

  Elizabeth gave her a knowing smile. “No one seems to argue over Charlie Timms’ stud fees but they do argue when they can’t actually get the service.”

  The remark took Evie by surprise. Glancing at Tom, she saw the same reaction reflected in his eyes. She had no doubt they were both impressed by Elizabeth Young’s astute manner.

  Had Elizabeth heard Charlie arguing with Mrs. Howard-Smith because he wanted to end their affair?

  “Out of curiosity, do you garden?” Evie asked.

  “Not really. I look after a few rose bushes my mother planted. Charlie Timms gives me horse manure because he says roses love it. He knows his plants.”

  “Do you know if he grows foxglove?”

  Elizabeth Young didn’t even think about it. “Not since the order came from the house to stop growing it when Lady Woodridge’s dog died of poison, or so I’m told. I think I might have only just been born when it happened.”

  No one grew foxgloves?

  They would have to find another poisonous plant…