by Sonia Parin
“That’s where Mrs. Browning and Mrs. Howard-Smith went…”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Mrs. Penn said…” Evie clicked her fingers. “No, not Mrs. Penn but rather Mrs. Hallesberry, our second victim. Anyhow, she said there’s something about the bereavement process that always stimulates her appetite.”
Tom and Phillipa nodded.
“I think when Charlie Timms gave the victims their marching orders, they fell into a state of mourning for what they had lost.”
This time only Phillipa nodded while Tom looked slightly skeptical.
“Have you never felt the loss of something and found comfort in food?” Evie asked.
Tom appeared to give it some thought.
Smiling, Phillipa said, “I don’t think food would work on men. They would probably be inclined to rely on something stronger such as whiskey.”
Tom gave a nod of understand. “Oh, yes. That makes sense.”
Phillipa surged to her feet and swirled around the library. “I’m excited but I don’t quite understand why.”
Evie continued, “Heartbroken by Charlie Timms’ decision to end the affair, Mrs. Howard-Smith went to see the doctor’s wife. According to her maid, they then went out. On foot. Think about it. This is a small village so there is only one option.”
“The pub,” Tom suggested.
“But we know they didn’t go there. It’s a public place and not exactly the ideal milieu for ladies. If they had visited the pub, we would have heard about it.”
Evie strode around the library and collected her thoughts. “So… We have been wondering where Mrs. Browning and Mrs. Howard-Smith went. As they traveled on foot, it would have to be somewhere close by.”
Phillipa gasped. “Mrs. Baker’s Delights?”
“That would be my guess.”
Evie looked toward the mantle clock. “We have plenty of time to go into the village and return for dinner. We’ll drive.”
Phillipa looked crestfallen. “I suppose I’ll hear all about it when you return.”
“Nonsense. You can squash in with us.”
Tom laughed. “No need. The roadster has a rumble seat.”
“A what?” Phillipa asked.
“It’s right where the luggage compartment should be. I think the British call it a dickey seat.” He grinned. “Or a mother-in-law seat.”
“I’ll take either one if it means not missing out on the excitement.” She looked at Evie. “I expect there will be excitement?”
Evie looked up at the ceiling and tried to picture the two women sneaking out of the house. It would have taken them five minutes to reach the tea room. But this would have been well after five in the afternoon.
“Florence!” Evie exclaimed. “She’s not only the waitress, she is also the cook… And, now that I think about it, she also owns the business.” Evie looked at Tom. “Do you remember we talked about it? Not at great length, but I do recall mentioning something about it.”
He gave a pensive nod. “You were impressed by how much she had achieved for someone so young.”
“I assume her establishment closes in the afternoon. That’s probably when she does her baking.”
Tom clasped his hands together. “You’re trying to make the connection. By hook or by crook.”
Where else would the doctor’s wife have taken her guest? “It has to be the tea room. It won’t hurt to ask.” Evie hurried toward the fireplace and pulled the bell. When Edgar appeared, she said, “We are going to the village but should return in time for dinner.”
Brushing both hands together, Tom said, “That seems to have sealed the deal. I’ll go prepare the roadster.”
Striding out of the library, Phillipa mused, “Who comes up with those sorts of phrases? I know red tape comes from King Henry VIII’s time. When he petitioned for a divorce, he had all his lords sign the document and that involved adding their seals with red ribbons attached.”
“I think you just answered your own question,” Evie said.
“Oh, seals.” Phillipa tapped her chin. “Yes. It does make sense. Way back then, few people could write, including nobles, so they would sign papers by stamping them with their family seals.”
“And how did you happen to know that?” Evie asked.
“Did I mention I grew up in the middle of nowhere? The nearest neighbors lived two days away and we had nothing but books for entertainment.”
Settling into the rumble seat, Phillipa whooped. “This is going to be fun, I’m sure. Although, please try to avoid any bumps along the way. I wouldn’t want to go flying.”
The engine roared to life. Phillipa’s laughter almost drowned it out. Getting into the spirit of it, Tom put his foot down and sent a shower of gravel spurting in their wake.
Along the way, they attracted the attention of a couple of maids making their way back to the house. Their surprise at seeing the Countess of Woodridge accompanied by a flamboyant looking passenger in the back seat waving her arms about, had them in stitches.
“I am supposed to set an example,” Evie moaned. “Honestly, if this gets back to the dowagers, I shall never hear the end of it.” Yet, Evie couldn’t help smiling.
Reaching the village, Tom slowed down and found a spot for the motor car. “What’s the plan?”
“We only want to gather information. Florence might not tell us straight out but she might say something to give herself away.” Had Florence made concessions for the local committee ladies allowing them to enter her establishment after hours?
Tom brushed his hands along his face. “So, you’re going to try to sweet talk her into giving you the information you need.”
“You don’t seem terribly excited by the idea.”
Getting out of the roadster, Tom rounded the car, opened the passenger door and then gave Phillipa a hand.
“Oh, I’d planned on somehow swinging out of the back seat, but I suppose I should like to keep my neck intact.”
On their previous trip to the village, Evie had been so focused on eluding the detective, she hadn’t noticed if they’d drawn attention to themselves.
Despite trying to figure out how she could extract the information she needed out of Florence, she managed to pay attention and saw several people turning to glance their way.
They walked past the vicarage and saw Mrs. Ellington collecting flowers from the garden. Evie thought they should have pointed the finger of suspicion and named the Vicar’s wife as the third committee lady having an affair with Charlie Timms if only to give her a bit of make-believe excitement. She had been rather thrilled by the sight of the local Lothario. So, Evie didn’t think there would have been any harm in it.
As they neared the doctor’s house, Evie gave Tom’s sleeve a tug and grabbed hold of Phillipa’s hand telling them both to step it up. The detective’s motor car sat outside the doctor’s house. He had either gone in to speak with Mrs. Browning or…
Evie looked around them.
No sight of him. For all she knew, Mrs. Browning might have told him she and Mrs. Howard-Smith had gone to Florence’s tea room.
They would soon find out.
“Are we going to pretend we are returning for more pie?” Tom asked.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.” They couldn’t really go into the tea room claiming to have some questions for Florence regarding the death of a couple of committee members. Evie patted her stomach. “As much as I love her pies, I’m not sure I can fit another one in.”
Glancing at Tom, she saw him patting his stomach too.
“No, nor could I. We could purchase some pies to take with us. It’s the least we can do considering we’re going to into her tea room under false pretenses…”
When they reached the tea room, they peered through the window. There were several customers enjoying afternoon tea and scones.
“They look good,” Evie murmured.
Florence emerged from the back room carrying a tray.
“She looks run off her feet,” Phillipa o
bserved. “How old do you think she is?”
“No older than twenty-five. That’s my guess.” How had someone so young managed to finance her business venture?
Phillipa must have pondered the same question. “Perhaps I should do something worthwhile with my small inheritance.”
“Isn’t that what you are doing?” Evie asked.
“Having a good time so I can then write about it?” Phillipa laughed. “She must have a good head on her shoulders. I suppose we’re all gifted different talents.”
Yes, and Florence appeared to have more than her share since she did her own baking and seemed to manage her finances well enough to bide her time before hiring someone.
Evie thought she remembered Henrietta mentioning one of her butlers had retired from service and had set up his own tea room but that had been after many years in service. Clearly enough time for him to accumulate the funds necessary to open a business.
At twenty-five, Florence might have had a couple of years’ experience working elsewhere but not many. Certainly not enough to have been able to put aside a bundle of money.
“Your frown is becoming progressively more serious,” Phillipa remarked.
“I’m now wondering where she came from. She must have a family. If she’s not from around here, why did she choose this village?”
Lowering her voice, Phillipa said, “To get away from a dark past.”
Evie stopped blinking. She knew Phillipa had merely filled in the blank but what if she had also inadvertently stumbled on the truth?
“Are we going in?” Tom asked.
“Someone is becoming impatient,” Evie whispered. “Yes, let’s go in and interrogate our unsuspecting victim.”
Rushing past them, Florence smiled and said, “I’ll be with you shortly.”
“Take your time,” Evie encouraged. Exchanging looks with the others, she lifted her shoulders into a shrug. Now what? How could they engage Florence in conversation when she seemed so run off her feet?
Phillipa sidled up to her and whispered, “Should we get a table?”
They’d already decided that would look too odd. A moment later, Florence emerged from the back room wiping her hands on her apron.
“You appear to be quite busy,” Evie said.
“I had some pies that needed to come out of the oven. Would you like me to show you to a table?”
“Oh… No, we… we actually wanted to take some pies with us.”
Smiling, Florence directed her attention to the pies on display. “Which one would you like?”
“I think we might try something different. I’ll let you decide.”
“How many would you like?”
Ridden with guilt by her underhandedness, Evie said, “We’ll take a dozen. No, make that two dozen. It would be a lovely treat for the house staff.”
As Florence collected the pies, Evie congratulated herself. It would take some time to wrap all those pies giving them the opportunity to ask a few essential questions.
If only one would come to mind…
“I keep forgetting to ask what time you close for the day.”
“There’s a sign on the front door. I try to finish up at five in the afternoon but that doesn’t always work out.”
“Oh? Do you have people lingering over your fine pies?”
Florence gave her a brisk smile. “Sometimes.”
Evie needed to find a way to ask about Mrs. Browning and Mrs. Howard-Smith without sounding too desperate for the information. “I thought you might have been opened until much later. I seem to recall someone saying they had enjoyed a lovely dinner here.”
“Yes,” Phillipa piped in. “I heard Mrs. Browning say so.”
Studying Florence’s reaction, Evie thought she detected a slight twitch of her lip. Had mention of Mrs. Browning hit a raw nerve?
“Will you be carrying these with you or would you like me to organize delivery?”
If Evie had to decipher her response, she’d say that had been a deliberate attempt at evasion.
“Yes, we’ll take them with us, please.” Scooping in a breath, she continued, “Mrs. Browning has been a strong supporter of your establishment.”
“That is mighty nice of the lady.”
“You have certainly won our support. I have been craving these pies at all hours. I wonder… What would happen if I came knocking on your door in the early evening?”
Florence wiped her hands on her apron and gave her a tight smile. “If I’m still baking, I’ll probably open the door. I’m not one to turn my nose up at another sale.” Her gaze shifted to the door.
Turning, Evie saw the detective enter. Had he come for the pies or to ask Florence some questions?
With her purchases all parceled up, Evie would have to concoct an excuse to linger. She saw Tom dig inside his pocket. Producing a wallet, he paid for the pies. Something Evie hadn’t expected so she made a mental note to reimburse him for the expense.
“Will there be anything else, milady?”
Giving a small shake of her head, Evie turned slightly and greeted the detective. “Back for more pie, detective?”
“I would like a word with Miss Florence Green.”
“Certainly, sir. I will just be a moment. I need to check my oven.”
As Florence retreated into the back room, Evie distributed the parcels so they could carry them to the roadster. Leaning toward the detective, she whispered, “We should like to have a word with you once you are finished here.”
“Are we leaving?” Phillipa whispered. “But we didn’t get what we came for?”
The detective must have heard her. His eyebrows hitched up. “You have your pies. What else did you come for?”
“Oh… We’ll explain later.” She hoped their next encounter didn’t come too soon. Evie needed some time to figure out what this all meant...
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“We have a slight problem.” Tom nudged his head toward the roadster. “Where do we put all these pies?”
Evie looked up and down the street.
Tom smiled. “Are you feeling a little lost without your bell?”
“Are you suggesting I cannot function without servants?” Liftin her chin, she strode off.
“Are you going off in a huff or do you want us to follow you?” Tom asked.
Resting her chin on the stack of pies, Evie said, “You can stand there if you like but I’m going to take these pies to Henrietta’s house. She should be able to keep them safe for us.”
The dowager’s house came into view and not a moment too soon. Evie stopped because if she took another step, she would have pies scattered all around her. Her hands ached, her arms shook. Who would have thought a few pies would weigh so much?
Tom and Phillipa caught up with her and walked right past her, their steps even and slow. Evie realized her mistake had been in walking too quickly.
“You could set the pies down and I’ll collect them later,” Tom called out.
“If you can do it, I can do it too,” she found herself muttering under her breath.
Evie reached the dower house just as a footman approached her.
“I’ll take those, milady.”
Evie could barely draw enough breath to thank the footman. Straightening her jacket, she pressed on and reached the front steps with only one thought in mind. “Tea.”
Tom and Phillipa had also been relieved of their burdens and had waited for Evie to arrive.
“Very kind of you, but, in your place, I would have gone straight in.”
“Well,” Phillipa exclaimed in jest, “we’ll keep that in mind.”
Half way along the hallway, Evie heard the dowager.
“Bradley, what is that commotion I hear?”
“I barely made a sound,” Evie said as she strode into the front parlor and headed straight for a chair.
Henrietta looked at Tom and Phillipa. “What have you done to poor Evangeline? She looks as though she’s taking her last breath.”
“We brought pies,” Evie said.
“Whatever for and why are you slumping and breathing so hard?”
“Long story. May we please have some tea?” Evie straightened and inspected her hands. She would definitely look into taking up gardening. Perhaps she could carry a full bucket around as exercise. The stack of pies had been up to her chin, but she hadn’t realized they would become such a heavy burden after only a few steps.
Evie frowned and sat up.
When they’d arrived at Mrs. Baker’s Delights, Florence had just taken some pies out of the oven. Yet, when the detective said he wanted to speak with her, she asked for a moment because she needed to check her oven…
Just as Henrietta instructed the butler to bring refreshments, the sound of a whistle blowing had them all standing up and rushing to the window.
“What on earth could that be?” Evie gasped.
“It’s the local constable blowing his whistle,” Henrietta said. “Although, why he has done so is beyond me. This is a quiet little village inhabited by law abiding citizens.”
“Henrietta, you seem to forget the two recent murders.”
Henrietta glanced at Evie. “Has anyone actually verified that as a fact?”
“Well, the police are looking into the deaths.” And they had been curious enough to run around the place interviewing people.
“Here is a theory I’m sure no one has thought about.” Henrietta drew everyone’s attention to her. “What if Mrs. Hallesberry poisoned Mrs. Howard-Smith and then decided she couldn’t live with her crime and so took her own life.”
They all tilted their heads and stared at Henrietta with more than a hint of awe reflected in their eyes.
The dowager smiled. “You’d think I had just revealed a universal secret. When, in fact, it is nothing but a supposition that could have occurred to anyone.”
“It’s quite humbling to hear you say so,” Evie remarked. “If I’d come up with that theory, let me assure you, I would have shouted it from the rooftops. It sounds feasible enough to warrant another chat with the detective.”
Hurried footsteps approached and Sara entered the drawing room. “What on earth is going on?”