by Sonia Parin
“We have spoken with the chauffeur,” he revealed. “Mrs. Howard-Smith visited Mrs. Browning in the evening.”
“And before that?”
The detective shrugged. “She attended your afternoon tea.”
The chauffeur hadn’t mentioned her visit to Hollyhock Farm? It took every ounce of control to refrain from sharing a look with Tom. They both now knew the chauffeur had withheld information. Why? Out of loyalty to the victim or the family?
“I assume you have spoken with the doctor’s wife.”
He nodded.
This time, she couldn’t help herself. However, when her gaze strayed to Tom, she made a point of then looking out of the window as if that had been her intention all along. In that brief exchange, they both silently acknowledged the fact they now also knew Mrs. Browning had lied to the police. Or rather, she had withheld vital information.
Why would she do that? Especially if she also feared she might be the next victim. Wouldn’t she want the culprit captured before he got to her?
Someone nudged her foot. Glancing from one person to the other, she got a nod from Tom who then nudged his head toward the detective.
No. she wouldn’t tell him about the doctor’s maid. If Mrs. Browning hadn’t confided in the detective when he’d questioned her, why would she do so now?
“What about Mrs. Hallesberry? She suffered the same fate.” Evie’s eyes drew down. Had she also sought out Mrs. Browning for advice?
“We know even less about her whereabouts before returning home. Her chauffeur insists he drove her straight there.”
Two chauffeurs withholding information.
“I’m curious.” Evie fidgeted with the cutlery. “Why is it so important to find out where the victims went in the evening before returning home?”
Sighing, the detective gave a slow shake of his head.
“You are not at liberty to tell me?” Evie asked.
“Lady Woodridge, I am trying to maintain a sense of professionalism. Please understand, it is highly irregular for a member of the police to… appear to seek the co-operation of a member of the public.”
Evie nibbled the edge of her lip as she thought about a recent experience. “I admit to wanting to exchange information but only because we have formed certain theories.” She fell silent again and ran through everything she knew. “Your interest in filling a gap suggests you might need to link it to something else.”
To his credit, the detective kept his poker face in place.
“What we don’t know,” Evie said, “is the exact manner of the victims’ death. It would help to know which poison is responsible for their deaths. Time plays a factor. We have assumed that much.”
Both of Tom’s eyebrows hitched up giving Evie the impression she had succeeded in making quite an impression on him.
“They were either killed by a slow working poison or a fast one. Which is it?” She drummed her fingers on the table. When he didn’t answer, she leaned forward. “Recently, a close acquaintance succumbed to the effects of poison. I asked the doctor who examined her enough questions to know the victim had been given a small dose of poison, strong enough to kill her but small enough to require several hours to take effect.”
The detective brushed his hand across his chin. “I’m listening.”
“You are focusing on the early evening hours so I am thinking the killer used a fast-acting poison or a large dose.” Had she just pointed the finger of suspicion at Mrs. Browning?
“Have we considered monkshood?” Phillipa asked.
They all turned to look at her.
A quick glance at the detective suggested Phillipa had hit the nail on the head.
“Is it?” Evie asked.
“I will neither confirm nor deny it.”
Switching her attention to Phillipa, Evie asked, “Have we discussed monkshood?”
Phillipa didn’t think so. “I did some nighttime reading.” She closed her eyes as if trying to recall what she had learned. “Symptoms may appear almost immediately, sometimes no later than one hour. With large doses death is almost instantaneous or it can occur within two to six hours.” Phillipa opened her eyes again and looked at everyone for their reactions.
“What about the symptoms?” Evie asked her.
“They match the ones described by the detective and are almost similar to the symptoms suffered by foxglove poisoning.”
Evie gave the detective a pointed look. “Now will you confirm it?”
He sighed and nodded. “The medical examiner has finally provided definitive proof.”
“Detective. I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, however, is it possible the chauffeurs’ version of events might not be entirely correct?”
He looked doubtful. “Are you suggesting they have been silenced?”
Evie lifted both shoulders. “I thought you didn’t care for coincidences.”
“They would have no reason to lie.” He sat back. “Unless…”
Evie nodded. “They are employed by prominent families prepared to do everything within their power to prevent a scandal.” Studying the pretty flower arrangement on the table, Evie also thought those families wouldn’t necessarily share the information. If the chauffeurs had been silent, they had acted independently. Or… the chauffeurs had simply been under strict orders from the victims to remain silent, no matter what.
“In their place, would you ask your staff to keep silent?” the detective asked.
“No. It is not my job to impede the efforts of the police. What’s to be gained by that?” She didn’t need to look at Tom to know he had rolled his eyes at her.
“Under any circumstance?” the detective asked.
Tom sat back and folded his arms. When his eyebrow curved up, Evie knew he shared the detective’s curiosity and wanted to hear her response.
“You said it yourself, detective. Too many coincidences become suspicious.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Those women did not go anywhere without their chauffeurs. What if… what if they were visiting someone who could ruin their reputations?”
“Would you feel better if I questioned the chauffeurs again? You seem to be suggesting I should.”
Relaxing into her chair, she gave a casual shrug. “You are trying to map their whereabouts in the early evening. I am merely thinking someone is either lying or not telling the truth.”
“You seem to think there is a difference.”
Evie scoffed. “Of course there is.”
The detective rested his arms on the table. “Have you ever refrained from telling the entire truth?”
She took care to mull over her answer, but before she could speak, Florence brought their pies.
“Will there be anything else?”
Everyone shook their heads.
They all waited for Florence to move away.
Feeling cornered, Evie spoke first, “Someone is lying. Either the chauffeur or… Mrs. Browning. And someone is also doing their best to avoid telling the truth.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Waiting until they reached the edge of the village and they were well and truly out of earshot of the detective, Phillipa said, “Mrs. Browning is lying?”
A flock of birds took flight. Evie waited for their squawking to die down. “I had to give him something.” She looked at Tom. “Before you say anything, I couldn’t bring myself to mention Charlie Timms. Not now. The detective obviously spoke with him and put him in the clear. He has now moved on and is trying to fill in the gap between the time Mrs. Howard-Smith saw Charlie and then finally arrived home.”
“Don’t you think the detective would benefit from knowing both victims had been having an affair with him? It would widen his net of suspects. Remember those? You listed them. Also…”
“There’s more?” Evie chirped.
“You failed to mention the doctor’s maid.”
Evie stopped. Throwing her head back, she stared up at the sky. “Fine. Yes. I should have informed him
…”
“Did Evie just agree with me?”
Grinning, Phillipa said, “I believe she did.”
As a high-ranking member of the local community, she had responsibilities. What sort of example would she be setting by being deliberately evasive?
Evie swung around and broke off at a trot heading back toward the village. “Hurry. We might catch him before he leaves.”
“I’m getting a feeling of déjà vu,” Tom grumbled.
“Please don’t push your luck,” Evie warned. “I won’t apologize for withholding information. I will not be reduced to playing the role of village gossip.” Evie spent the rest of the way calling herself all types of fool. She had failed to recognize the clear distinction between spreading rumors and assisting an officer of the law to seek justice.
“Anyone would think you were infatuated with Charlie Timms.”
Ignoring Tom’s remark, Evie continued her mental rambling, thinking she had exercised full restraint for the wrong reasons and her worst crime had been failing to recognize it until now.
However, one simply did not go around propagating scandalous notions, certainly not the type which might bring into question everything she stood for. She frowned and tried to think exactly what that might be…
“I see his motor car,” Phillipa said.
When Tom grabbed hold of Evie’s arm, she came to an abrupt halt.
He surprised her by saying, “We might need to rethink this.”
“Henrietta has already referred to us as Keystone Cops. I should like to avoid giving her reason for making the moniker stick.”
“I’m not sure the detective will be pleased to find you have withheld information,” Tom said. “He might hold you in some sort of contempt.”
“I seem to remember saying that all along and, if I didn’t, I most certainly should have mentioned it.”
Phillipa said, “You could try to make an anonymous call.”
“Too late. He’s driven off.” Evie swung back. Rolling her eyes, she said, “I wonder if I can disguise my voice on the telephone?”
***
Evie ended the call and sat back. “Happy now?”
Tom stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “Admit it. You feel better now that it’s all out in the open. You can’t possibly feel regrets.”
“You’re right. In fact, unburdening myself feels liberating. Perhaps now I can resume the task of settling into my new life in the country. Henrietta will be pleased. I can now give the Hunt Ball my full attention.”
“How did the detective react to your news?”
“Are you deliberately trying to derail my plans to put all this nasty business behind me?”
Tom sat up. “But the perpetrator hasn’t been caught yet. I would have thought you’d want to follow up on it.”
“In answer to your question, the detective didn’t sound at all pleased about having to question Mrs. Browning again. He will also need to speak to her maid. Apparently, my line of questioning might have forced the information out of her so he needs to confirm it all.” Savoring her new freedom, Evie searched for something to do. “I suppose I should have a word with Mrs. Horace about tonight’s dinner and perhaps I should also start thinking about the rest of the month. It might be time to organize a house party.” Striding to the fireplace, she rang the bell.
Edgar appeared momentarily.
“We should like tea in the library, Edgar. Could you let Miss Brady know, please? I believe she is with Caro.”
When Tom picked up a newspaper, Evie found herself thinking this all felt rather anticlimactic. Selecting flowers for the upcoming Hunt Ball felt rather staid when compared to all the running around they had been doing.
A footman entered and organized the tea tray on a table. Evie poured a cup and offered it to Tom.
“I’m beginning to acquire a taste for it. How long has it taken me?”
“Several months and you’re even drinking it without cream.”
“I thought the locals drank it only with milk.”
“True.” After several sips, she set her cup down and considered having a piece of lemon cake. Instead, she sat back and gazed out into the distance. “I wonder how the detective is getting on.”
Tom chuckled. “It’s only been a few minutes since you called him.”
“I assume he will jump straight into it.” She crossed her legs and swung her foot only to remember nanny always trying to break her of the habit. “I hope he hasn’t dismissed my information as nonsensical. We spent a great deal of time digging around for it.”
Phillipa entered the library and helped herself to some tea. “I think I got through to your maid. She might even consider trying a new hairstyle.”
“Then, you have worked miracles. Did she rush off to the village to buy herself a new dress?”
“No, she said she had some work to do.”
Evie couldn’t think what that might be…
Unless…
No, surely Caro had put a stop to her sabotage.
“Did you happen to notice in which direction she headed?”
“She said something about working on one of your hats which she had to fetch.”
What could she possibly want to do to her hat? Sticks pins into it?
Dismissing the thought, she glanced at the telephone. Several minutes later, she found herself still looking at the telephone and the others had noticed.
“I know. I know. I’m obsessing.” She nibbled on the tip of her thumb. “In one morning, we managed to gather more information than the detective. He should have done something with it and, as a gesture of goodwill, he should extend the courtesy and keep us informed.”
Tom picked up his newspaper again and hid behind it while Phillipa helped herself to more cake.
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Phillipa said. “I rather enjoyed trekking out with you today.”
Dismissing all the thoughts that had been plaguing her, Evie straightened. “You mentioned something about your friends organizing a treasure hunt. How exactly would that work?”
Phillipa looked down and smiled. “They’re actually rather daring.”
Tom lowered his newspaper and peered at her.
“I believe you have piqued Tom’s interest and mine. So, you’ll have to share more information.”
“Well… in past treasure hunts, there have been items hidden within houses.” She looked around her. “Large manor houses such as this one. For those not acquainted with the owners, this could prove somewhat problematic as they had to find ways into the house without breaking the law.”
Tom set his newspaper aside.
“Would you, by any chance, happen to be here under false pretenses?” he asked.
Phillipa laughed. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I think Tom wants to know if your motor car really broke down?”
“Of course it did. Why would I fake that?”
“To gain entry into my house and hunt around for a mysterious object.” Evie got up and refreshed her cup of tea. “What sort of objects are hidden?”
“Odd trinkets. Feathers. Silver spoons. If you put your mind to it, you can come up with the oddest objects.”
“And, have you participated in one of these treasure hunts before?”
“This will be my first one. I do hope I can make it.”
Taking the chair next to Tom, Evie asked, “Any suggestions as to how we can extricate the truth from Phillipa?”
“Do you think she’s lying?”
“I’m not sure. If she is, she certainly knows how play her role. A part of me wishes to believe she has duped us.”
“The bored part of you?” Tom asked. “Is that likely to become a problem in the future?”
“Are you afraid I’ll find dangerous ways to keep myself entertained?”
“Considering how much you’re fretting over the lack of news from the detective, yes, I am becoming seriously concerned.”
Evie gave him an
impish smile.
Phillipa cleared her throat. “I suddenly feel superfluous. Would you like me to leave?”
“Oh, no. I think I can turn this around and have some fun trying to figure out if you are telling the truth or not. In fact… Give me a moment. I have to think about this.”
Evie got up and strode around the library, as she did, she looked at everything around her. A blue and white bowl filled with dried flowers. A collection of decorative snuff boxes. Candlesticks…
“You might have insinuated yourself into this household.”
“To what end?” Phillipa asked.
“To gain inside knowledge. The first day I saw you at Mrs. Baker’s Delights you produced a small flask and didn’t have any qualms about pouring the contents into your cup.”
“I wanted to… perk up my coffee.”
Evie swung around to face Phillipa. “Did you have the opportunity to slip something into someone’s cup?”
Shifting to the edge of her chair, Phillipa studied her for a moment. “I might have. I think you might be onto something.” Phillipa clapped her hands. “This is fun. Let’s play some more.”
Slumping down on a chair, Evie cupped her chin in her hands. “I’ve lost the momentum.” She looked over at the telephone. “He’s not going to contact us.”
“Once he catches the killer, he’ll be busy extracting a confession,” Tom said. “And, when he does, he will most likely transport the culprit to prison. But I’m sure he’ll get around to paying you a visit and awarding you a medal.”
Shaking her head, Evie strode over to the table. “More tea anyone? I’m feeling peckish, so I think I’ll have more cake.” Evie slid a slice onto a dainty plate.
Chortling, Phillipa asked, “Are you going to seek solace in a pound of cake?”
Evie smiled and took a sip of her tea only to stop. Looking up, she set the cup down on the saucer and heard it rattle. “Solace in food.”
“What about it?” Tom asked.