With a Little Bit of Blood

by D. E. Ireland

  “If war breaks out in Europe,” Ramsey said, “Kaiser Wilhelm and the whole of Europe is sure to be in the thick of it.”

  “England, too.” Higgins lifted an eyebrow. “A fervent Englishman such as Sir Anthony might prefer such a talisman be in the possession of King George. His wife told me yesterday that Sir Anthony is obsessed with politics. He’s convinced there will be war soon. She actually said he wanted to save the world. Count Rudolf, too. It’s the reason they’re at this house party.”

  Eliza stared at the cross Higgins held. “The count and Sir Anthony both want the cross because they think it will make their country more powerful.”

  Ramsey took a deep breath. “Pentwater planned to sell the cross to the highest bidder. That’s why all three men were here. Only the motorcar got waylaid somehow, causing Pentwater to try to get his hands on it.”

  “He caused the accident,” Eliza said. “And then tried to burn our house down.”

  Higgins nodded. “But the fire seems a clumsy way to go about getting the car back.”

  “It bloody well worked, didn’t it? We ended up coming to this house party, and Colin brought the car right to the front door.”

  “But how would Pentwater know that would happen?”

  Ramsey laughed. “I hate to say it, but this may be one of the few times we can call something a coincidence. Although I doubt that was what Pentwater envisioned. By the time of the fire, he probably figured out your motorcar was in the garage at Scotland Yard. With you dead or injured from the fire, he’d have an easier time getting his hands on it.”

  “This means either Sir Anthony or Count Rudolf killed Pentwater,” she said in a low voice. “He could have told them where the cross was hidden, and that he needed more time to get his hands on it.”

  “Once they knew where it was,” Ramsey added, “they didn’t need Pentwater.”

  Higgins swore under his breath. “At dinner that first night, Pentwater asked how I’d been injured. I told him about the accident. And that the car was being repaired at the Yard.”

  Ramsey shot him a rueful smile. “The killer was listening, too.”

  “What do we do?” Eliza whispered, as if someone were listening by the shelves.

  “Nothing, for now,” Ramsey said. “We have no proof.”

  “But we have to do something,” she insisted. “This person also murdered Madame Evangeline. After she spoke about the cross at the séance, it probably got the killer nervous. They wanted to silence her before she said anything more about it.”

  Higgins looked unhappy. “Again, how do we prove it?”

  Ramsey nodded at the cross. “That’s our only hope. The killer wants the cross of Charlemagne bad enough to kill two people for it. Well, the roadster it was hidden in is now here. I suspect the killer will try to retrieve it. And soon. That’s why Lake and I came.”

  “Until the killer shows himself, we must keep the cross safe,” Higgins said. “I’ll hide it in my room.”

  “That will be the first place someone would look if they discover it’s not in the motorcar,” Ramsey said. “My room would be the second place.”

  “Give it to me,” Eliza told them. “No one will suspect me of having it.”

  Ramsey appeared dubious, but Higgins said, “She’s right.” He slid the cross back into the pouch and handed it to Eliza, who tucked it into the pocket of her skirt.

  “Please keep it hidden,” Ramsey told her. “If the killer even suspects you have it, you’ll be in as much danger as Madame Evangeline.”

  “This isn’t my first experience at outwitting a murderer, Colin.”

  “I know.” Ramsey squeezed Eliza’s elbow. “And let’s make certain it isn’t your last.”

  22

  Because he attended them rarely, Higgins forgot how exhausting country house parties were. Although such gatherings did not normally include a murder, guests were still subjected to idle conversation, charades, card games, ping pong, and amateur theatricals. All that before the fox hunt even began. When this party ended, he would need another week to recuperate.

  “The dogs are loud,” Eliza complained as they returned from the topiary garden.

  She and Higgins had given Philippe and his fiancée a tour of the gardens after breakfast. They hoped to avoid the nonstop arrival of fox hunt participants and the excited barks from the hounds. But not even Banfield Manor was large enough to escape the noise and confusion.

  “The hounds know they’ll be let loose soon,” Higgins told her. “It’s blood fever, which the riders share.” Indeed, the riders wore avid and hungry expressions – like the predators they were. Higgins had little affection for the ruling class or their leisure pursuits.

  Nathalie clung to Philippe’s arm as they approached the house. “Why do they chase after such a dear little animal,” she said in charmingly accented English. “I cannot kill even the spider. And foxes, they are most beautiful. Si triste. So sad.”

  Eliza sighed. “Until today, all I thought about was how fun it would be to jump over hurdles and race through the countryside. Riding habits also make everyone look dashing.” She glanced down at her sleek outfit. “But today I realized an innocent fox will be killed, too.”

  “Not a pretty sight,” Higgins said. “Avert your eyes when the hounds catch up with it.”

  She shivered. “I’ll ride back as soon as the poor thing is trapped.”

  “I do not wish to even think about it,” Nathalie moaned.

  “I would fly you away, chéri,” Philippe said to Nathalie. “But I do not like the skies this morning. The wind, it is strong. And there are many low clouds.”

  “Will it storm?” Higgins scanned the overcast sky. Although windy, the day was warm.

  “Je ne pense pas. I do not think so. A rain shower perhaps, but not a storm. Only to take Nathalie in the air would not be pleasant for her. We wait until tomorrow to leave.”

  “We stay in the house, oui?” She gazed up at Philippe with a worshipful gaze. A gust of wind tousled her blonde curls. “I do not wish to see any of the hunt.”

  “Bien sur. Of course. We listen to the phonograph. Maybe I shall sing to you.”

  Higgins had as little desire to witness that as the fox hunt. “Eliza, the master of hounds will sound his horn soon. You haven’t gotten your mount yet.”

  “I told the grooms to saddle my favorite mare,” she said. “A white Irish hunter. I don’t want anyone else to take her. Luckily, the riders who live nearby brought their own horses and won’t steal mine.” With a grin, she lifted her riding crop. “Otherwise I’ll use this on them.”

  “Perhaps you will join Nathalie and me in the music room, Professeur.”

  “Thank you, Philippe, but no. I have matters to discuss with the detectives.”

  Philippe looked pained. “Detectives. Murder. Dead foxes. I cannot wait to take Nathalie away from here.” He put his arm around his fiancée and swept her into the house.

  “They make a beautiful couple,” Eliza said. “I love French accents, too.”

  He snorted. “Give me a good Geordie dialect from Tyneside any day. And the girl is pretty, but insipid.” Indeed, she reminded Higgins of a macaron: small, delicate and too sugary.

  “I feel like a brute next to her. Not only am I inches taller, I’m about to take part in the slaughter of a little animal.” Eliza smacked the riding crop against her leather boot. “First, I want to visit the garage. Our trusty detective never showed up for breakfast at the house.”

  “He probably wanted to avoid the feeding frenzy.” Shortly after dawn, the hunt participants began to arrive. Some on their horses, others in motorcars. Because so many people were here for breakfast, the servants set up the sideboard in the main dining room. Higgins hadn’t seen that much food since his niece’s lavish wedding reception.

  “I wonder if anyone tried to get to your roadster last night,” Eliza said as they walked up to the manor house garage.

  The long brick structure resembled a stables
. Instead of horses, each walled partition held a motor vehicle. The partitions had no doors, so she could see each of the seven vehicles inside. All of them belonged to Richard, except for the shiny blue roadster.

  “Colin?” Eliza called out. The smell of petrol and oil filled the air.

  “Over here, Eliza.” Ramsey’s voice came from beyond an open door at the back.

  He and Eliza walked past the parked motorcar, careful to avoid the tires which hung on the wall and a worktable cluttered with tools. The door opened onto a large space filled with metal parts. Windows on the back wall revealed a man tinkering with the engine of a green touring car. Higgins recognized him as Frank, the estate chauffeur. But where was Ramsey?

  Eliza and Higgins stood for a moment, puzzled. Then they turned to see Ramsey and Barnaby Lake side by side on a bench. Lake held a towel to his forehead.

  “Someone hit him with a heavy object,” Ramsey told them in a low voice.

  “Oh!” Eliza hurried over in concern. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “Nah.” He lifted the towel, revealing the large lump which protruded a few inches from his right eye. “Got the chauffeur to put some ice in a towel for me. Told him I slipped and fell.”

  “When did all this happen?” Higgins crouched before them, trying to mask his anxiety.

  “Early this morning,” Lake replied. “Detective Ramsey and I took turns watching over your motorcar. I’d been sitting on that stool near the front of the car for about two hours when I started to doze off. I didn’t worry much about that. If I fell asleep, I’d slip from the stool and wake up. But as I started to drift off, I heard a sound in the garage.”

  “Did you see anything?” Eliza asked.

  “Only a shadow moving quick as air, miss.” Lake winced when he placed the towel of ice back on his forehead.

  “I found him soon after,” Ramsey said. “For a moment, I thought he was dead. I offered to send for a doctor, but he refused.”

  “Not the first time I’ve been knocked out. Usually after a tussle with a sinister bloke or two. But all I want now is a lie down. Maybe some aspirin.”

  Ramsey looked over at the chauffeur bent over the green touring car. “Frank, can you see that Officer Lake gets safely up to his room?”

  The man wiped his hands on a cloth. “Sure thing. I know what he feels like. Once had the hood of a Talbot brougham fall right on my head.”

  They remained silent until the chauffeur led Officer Lake away. As soon as they were gone, Higgins said, “Someone did try to get to the roadster. We’re lucky they didn’t kill him.”

  Ramsey looked somber. “Whether Lake lived or died didn’t appear to matter to this blighter. And whoever attacked him got what they came for.”

  “But the Professor’s motorcar is still there,” Eliza said. “We walked right by it.”

  “They didn’t come for the car.” Ramsey marched over to the blue Hudson. “Look.”

  Eliza and Higgins peeked inside the interior of the roadster. “It’s gone!” she cried.

  “They took the auto-meter.” Higgins shook his head. “Made a mess of my dashboard, too. Probably smashed at it with the same pipe or object used to strike Officer Lake.”

  Ramsey turned to the workbench behind him and picked up a metal wrench. “I’m betting it was this.” He flung it back down. “As soon as I made certain Lake was fine, I searched the area. Questioned all the grooms, any servant I saw. I spoke to the early fox hunt arrivals as well. No one saw anything suspicious near the garage.”

  “When this person opens up the auto-meter and discovers the cross is gone, they’ll be furious,” Higgins said. “And even more dangerous. Who will they go after next?”

  “You, Professor,” Ramsey said. “Or me. The roadster is yours. And I brought it to you and worked on its repairs. Thank heaven Eliza isn’t connected directly to the car.”

  “What do we do now?” Higgins asked.

  “I’ll go into the village and speak with the constable. Only I don’t want to attract attention from our assailant. Frank can drive me in one of Lord Ashmore’s cars.”

  “What do you want from Chief Constable Brakefield?” Eliza asked.

  “I want him to re-open the investigation into the deaths of Dwight Pentwater and Madame Evangeline. We need a heavy police presence here to flush the culprit out.”

  “Brakefield won’t like that,” she said.

  “He’ll like it far less if I go over his head and have the investigation handed to Scotland Yard. Which I will.” Ramsey buttoned his jacket. “While I’m gone, Eliza should be safe. She’ll be surrounded by dozens of people at the hunt. But I’m worried about you, Professor. I’d take you with me to the village, but what if the killer comes after us in his own car, as he did to you in Putney? Better that you remain here, but not alone.”

  “I’ll hole up in my bedroom. I have a linguistics treatise to write.”

  “Absolutely not. Once the person who stole the auto-meter discovers the cross is missing, they’ll likely search your room next. I don’t want you to be a sitting duck.”

  The detective’s stern tone told Higgins it would be futile to resist. Especially since sensible precautions did seem in order. “Philippe and his fiancée won’t be in the hunt. I can join them in the music room,” Higgins said. “Philippe plans to serenade the fair Nathalie.”

  “Good.” Ramsey nodded. “That should keep you bored and safe.”

  “We’re forgetting something.” Higgins lowered his voice to a whisper. “We gave Eliza the cross last night. If this person searches her bedroom, they’ll find it.”

  “No, they won’t.” Eliza reached beneath the collar of her riding habit and pulled out a thin gold chain. The cross dangled from it. “I figured it was too valuable to leave lying around, so I put it on one of my necklaces. There’s a hole at the top for a thin chain. The cross is too large to conceal beneath ordinary clothes, but no one will see it under my riding habit.”

  Eliza tucked the cross and chain beneath her snug black jacket. She was right. There was no sign of it now.

  Ramsey gave her a proud smile. “Well done. You can keep the cross safe while remaining safe at the hunt.” His smile faded. “I need both of you to be cautious today.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” Higgins assured him.

  “I’m more worried about you, Colin,” Eliza said. “Whoever stole the auto-meter may decide to go after the other Scotland Yard detective here. Especially if they think you possess of the cross.”

  He shook his head. “They’ll be in for a surprise then.”

  “You’re the one who may be surprised. I’d rather you stay with the Professor until after the hunt. Call the constable from the house.”

  “I’d rather not risk eavesdroppers.”

  Eliza swung her riding crop in frustration. “You’d rather risk your life?”

  “I appreciate your concern. But I’m perfectly capable of handling risky situations.” Ramsey gently straightened her tall black riding hat. “Now it’s time for you to join the hunt.” He winked. “And try not to fall off your horse.”

  “He’s right,” Higgins said after the detective left. “Until Ramsey brings more police back into this investigation, we need to be cautious.”

  “Except he isn’t being cautious himself. Blooming men. They never listen.” Her mood now matched the color of her riding habit. “And if he thinks I’ll simply gallop off to enjoy the hunt while he puts himself in danger. . . ” Eliza marched away before finishing her sentence.

  She didn’t need to. Higgins knew Eliza to be both fearless and foolhardy. But he couldn’t think of any trouble she could get into during the hunt. He wouldn’t worry about her until after the fox had been caught.

  If only it was as simple to catch a murderer.

  Eliza hadn’t heard this much noise and commotion since a runaway horse and wagon tore through the vegetable stalls at Covent Garden. She couldn’t even count the number of riders. Most wore black riding
habits as she did. Some were attired in navy, dark green or gray. The most striking were those men in scarlet jackets. She’d learned that only the master of the hunt, the whippers-in, and men who had earned their “color” were permitted to wear scarlet. Ladies were never accorded the privilege, no matter how skilled. She wondered if that would change when women finally earned the right to vote. Knowing men, most likely not.

  The hunt officials began to place riders in proper order. Richard and his sister were already at the front of the group. Eliza sighed. Even at a sporting event, the upper class insisted on ranking everyone. Given her lack of “breeding”, she would likely bring up the rear.

  Conversation flowed about her as she scanned the group for house party guests. She felt relieved that Clara had remained behind at the house. Although she probably wouldn’t be able to use her excuse of feeling under the weather next time. The girl needed to learn to ride.

  Eliza stretched from her perch on the side saddle. Several riders moved, revealing Freddy astride a restless black gelding. He looked petrified. A much more relaxed Lily sat on the chestnut stallion beside him. Sir Anthony and Lady Annabel conversed on their mounts nearby.

  She pulled the necklace from beneath her riding habit. When she let the chain fall, the cross sat atop her upper chest. Given its size and how the gold stood out against her black jacket, no one would be able to miss it. Especially the person who stole the auto-meter this morning. The same person who murdered Dwight Pentwater and Madame Evangeline. If this didn’t smoke them out of hiding, nothing would.

  When the house party officially ended tomorrow, the guests would disperse. Time was running out. Eliza didn’t like the idea of having the murderer lie in wait for them on the way back to London. Or perhaps in London itself. Nor would she allow Colin Ramsey to be put at risk. Whoever killed Pentwater and Madame Evangeline was riding in the hunt, and they’d soon realize she possessed the cross of Charlemagne. There was little they could do about it while in pursuit of a fox. But afterward, they might grow reckless. Reckless people made mistakes.