by V. M. Burns
“I’m sorry.” Lady Elizabeth smiled at the detective. “Well, I believe what Lady Alistair is implying is that it was believed Mary must have gotten . . . in the family way and had to be rushed out of the country to save herself and her family from disgrace.” She looked at Lady Alistair. “Is that right?”
Lady Alistair nodded. “Of course, no one knows for certain, except Mary and the young man; however, there was a maid that was also dismissed from service and she claimed Philippe Claiborne fathered her child.”
“Why the dirty blighter.” Lord William huffed.
“Claiborne didn’t marry the girl?” Victor asked innocently.
Lady Alistair shook her head. “No. If I recall correctly, he denied the child was his.” She took a sip of tea. “Of course, Sir Wilbur had very little choice in the matter. He had to dismiss the girl.”
Penelope’s cheeks flushed and she rose and paced. “I don’t see what you mean he had no choice in the matter. Of course he had a choice.” She marched across the room. “That poor girl was dismissed, most likely without references. She and her baby wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Calm yourself, dear.” Lady Elizabeth halted her knitting to stare at her niece. “It’s an unfortunate situation, but let’s not forget why we’re here.”
Detective Inspector Covington leaned forward. “Thank you, Lady Elizabeth. We’re here to figure out who murdered Philippe Claiborne. Now, can we get back to—”
“I don’t think I care who murdered him,” Penelope said.
“You can’t mean that?” Victor stared at his wife with concern registered all over his face.
“I most certainly do. He was a vile man with no regard for life and his own responsibility, and I don’t really care if we ever find who murdered him.”
Daphne gasped. “But if we don’t find the murderer, people will think . . . they might believe . . .” She stared at James.
Penelope turned and looked at the strain on her sister’s face. “Oh dear, I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I certainly don’t want anyone here to be arrested for the murder.” She sighed. “I’m just tired.” She sat back down. “Please forgive me. Of course, I’ll do what I can to make sure we catch whoever killed him.”
“Now that’s settled, could we get back to the problem at hand?” Detective Inspector Covington sighed.
Lady Elizabeth took one last glance at Penelope and then picked up her knitting. “Well, I think we’ll have to divide and conquer to figure out what we can, and we’ll need to do it quickly.” She turned to Penelope. “Penelope, there’s so much going on at the moment between the murder investigation, the wedding, and the children from the Kindertransport. Would you mind taking the lead in seeing that the children are taken care of until we can arrange for a governess? How’s your German?”
Penelope sighed. “Pretty bad.”
“Well, I’m sure it’ll do.” She smiled at her niece. “Plus, Joseph Mueller, Thompkins’s son-in-law, has come and is helping us understand Jewish culture. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help.”
Lady Penelope nodded.
“Great.” She turned to Lady Alistair. “I hate to impose on a guest, but—”
“I’m hardly a guest.” She smiled. “Soon, I’ll be a member of the family and I’d love to help.”
“Wonderful. You’re such an excellent hostess, I was wondering if you would be willing to help with the guests and final wedding details.”
Lady Alistair beamed. “I’d love to help.” She hesitated and turned to Daphne. “That is if it’s okay with you, dear. I wouldn’t want to interfere.”
Lady Daphne smiled and hurried to Lady Alistair and gave her a big hug.
“Wonderful. Now, Victor, do you think you could tackle Percy Waddington? See what you can find out.”
Victor nodded, although his brow was still furrowed as he continued to glance at his wife.
Lady Elizabeth turned to her husband. “If I remember correctly, Major Davies is a member of your club, isn’t he?”
“Used to be.” Lord William spoke around his pipe. “But I’ll see what I can find out from him.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “James, I don’t know that you’ll have much time for investigating, but I have a little job for you.”
James nodded. “I will gladly help.” He looked at Detective Inspector Covington. “Provided I’m not under arrest.”
Lady Alistair gasped and nearly dropped her teacup. “Arrested?”
James looked around the room and settled his gaze on the detective. “Everyone knows I got into several arguments with Claiborne.”
Lady Elizabeth put down her knitting. “James, dear, I think if Detective Inspector Covington were to arrest everyone who had an argument with Philippe Claiborne, he might find that would include me and most of the servants.”
“You got into an argument with Claiborne?” Detective Inspector Covington stared openmouthed.
She nodded. “Yes. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, would anyone care for more tea?”
Chapter 12
“Earth to Sam!” Nana Jo yelled.
“Sorry.” I pulled myself away from the twentieth century. “I was writing.”
“Guess who I just saw?” Nana Jo smiled like the cat who ate all the cream.
“Felicity Abrams?”
She shook her head. “Nope.” She smiled. “Harold’s brother, Oscar.”
“Really?” I shrugged. “Maybe he’s bored just sitting at the hotel all day and all night. Was Margaret with him?”
She shook her head. “Nope, but I asked one of Ruby Mae’s relatives, who works here, Marvin, I think he said his name was, and he said Oscar’s been here every day all day and he’s dropped a lot of money.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well... I guess, when you’re rich, it doesn’t matter.”
“True, but Marvin said Oscar has lost a lot of money and has been playing on credit.”
I shook my head. “I wonder if Margaret knows.”
“Who knows.” She shook her head.
Irma, Dorothy, and Ruby Mae joined us, and Nana Jo filled them in.
“Do you think he could have killed Lydia?” Dorothy asked.
Nana Jo shook her head. “I don’t think he really knew her, but it won’t hurt to ask. I’ll mention it to Harold. Maybe he can find out.”
Dorothy yawned. “I’m tired. I must have gone all over this place looking for Felicity Abrams.”
“Any luck?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nope.” She stretched. “Oh, well. Time to settle up and go home.”
“Settling up” for us involved splitting our winnings. The girls decided they would share all of their winnings equally. This pretty much insured no one went home broke. Generally, if one of us had a losing night, someone else would be winning. Normally, Ruby Mae, Irma, and I played the least, twenty to fifty dollars. Dorothy and Nana Jo were usually the big spenders and, therefore, the biggest winners. However, I had a fortunate night about a month ago, which resulted in a big hit. After taxes, we each went home with about eight thousand dollars. So, I didn’t feel badly that my contribution tonight wasn’t that much. Irma’s date never showed up, but she chatted up someone she met at the bar. Dorothy and Nana Jo had modest wins. We all had a free meal from the buffet, thanks to Ruby Mae’s connections, and each went home with twenty-two dollars more than we came with. Plus, I had a few more pages done on my manuscript.
The ride home was uneventful. We agreed to meet for lunch tomorrow at Frank’s restaurant. Then Nana Jo and I headed back to the house.
When we went upstairs, the crowd was still there, in front of the television. As I passed through the room, I saw the Christmas marathon was still playing.
“Looks like Bing Crosby isn’t the only one dreaming about a white Christmas,” Nana Jo said softly.
I looked at the crowd of bodies in my living room. Each and every one of them was sound asleep, including the poodles.
We turned off the
television and tiptoed into our rooms and left them all where we’d found them.
* * *
The next morning, I called Jenna and asked if she could meet me for breakfast. She sounded suspicious, but when I mentioned the name of her favorite breakfast spot and offered to pay, she agreed.
My sister wasn’t a food snob, but she had certain standards that she expected, regardless of where she ate. Standards were a good thing to have, but mine weren’t as high for fast food as they were for four- and five-star restaurants. Jenna didn’t care. She expected the server at the drive-thru, who was making minimum wage, to provide the exact same level of customer service as a trained waiter at a five-star restaurant. So, meals out with my sister were often an experience.
Her favorite restaurant was a small hoity-toity quasi-French café that served Belgian waffles, her favorite breakfast food. The food was tasty, but I usually balked at spending five dollars for a cup of coffee.
I arrived first; punctuality wasn’t my sister’s strong point. However, I didn’t have to wait long before her car pulled into the parking lot. Jenna sat in the car talking, I assumed on the phone, for several minutes. Then she got out and joined me in the restaurant. The fact that the waitress brought a cup of hot tea to the table, when she saw Jenna sit down, spoke volumes.
“Come here often?” I joked.
Jenna smiled and sipped her hot tea. “Ah . . . perfect. They know how to make a good cup of tea and so, yes, I do come here often.” She sipped her tea. “Most places use the same carafe for tea and hot water, but it totally ruins the taste of the tea.”
“Whatever you say.” I sipped my expensive coffee and tried to detect something that would differentiate it from the coffee I paid a dollar for at the fast-food drive-thru, but my palette must not be sophisticated enough for that. It all tasted the same to me.
The waitress came and took my order. She looked at Jenna. “Your usual?”
Jenna nodded.
“You have a usual?”
She stared at me. “Did you invite me to breakfast to mock my dining habits or did you have a purpose?”
I told her what I’d learned from Lexi.
She listened and took a few notes until her food arrived. Then she took a deep breath and tackled the mac daddy of Belgian waffles.
We ate in relative silence for several moments.
Then Jenna said, “I reached out to Child Protective Services in Chicago to notify them of Lexi and Angelo’s whereabouts. She said it might be a few days before they could send anyone to pick them up, due to the holidays.”
“But, I don’t—”
“I figured you weren’t trying to get rid of them, so I told her they could stay until after the holidays and then we’d take them back to Chicago.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“So, what do you want?”
“What makes you think I want something? Maybe I just want to have breakfast with my favorite sister.”
“I’m your only sister.”
“Okay. I was wondering if you could have your investigator check on something.”
“What?”
I told her about my suspicion that April was Margaret’s illegitimate daughter.
“I suppose it’s possible, but why would she hide it?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe she didn’t think Oscar Robertson would accept a package deal.”
Jenna promised to have her investigator delve into it. She took a glance at her watch and then grabbed her bag. “I’ve got to run. I’m due in court in less than thirty minutes.” She hurried to the door but halted before she left. “Thanks for breakfast.” She waved and quickly headed out to her car.
I sat and drank the last of my coffee and then paid the bill.
I decided to pay a call on Detective Stinky Pitt. I hoped maybe the coroner’s report would be ready and he might have more information.
Detective Pitt met me and escorted me back to his closet of an office. Inside the claustrophobic space, he closed the door. “Whaddya want?”
“I just wondered if the coroner’s report was ready?”
He frowned but slid a file in my direction.
I read and looked up at the detective. “That can’t be right.”
He leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“According to this, Lydia Lighthouse was drugged, stabbed, and strangled.” I stared.
He rocked in his chair. “That’s confidential. We aren’t releasing any of that to the media, so watch your mouth.” He pointed.
“Why?”
“The real killer will know details no one else knows.” He smiled arrogantly. “It’s the way the professionals do things.”
I tried not to roll my eyes, but it took a major effort.
Detective Pitt didn’t have any other information and thankfully, I didn’t have to stay long. The closet was small and poorly ventilated, so odors had no way of escaping and hung in the air like a sweaty locker room. When I found myself breathing through my mouth rather than my nose, I knew it was time to exit. So, I made my excuses and left.
On the way back to the house, I passed by what was left of North Harbor’s shopping mall. The large complex was mostly empty, with only a few anchor stores still in business. It was a sad sign of North Harbor’s economic demise. Just past the mall was a shopping plaza with a pet store, which reminded me Snickers and Oreo were running low on dog food. I glanced at my watch; even though it was early, the stores were all open to maximize the Christmas season spending wave. I hesitated about a half second and then swung my car into the parking lot. I hurried inside for dog food. I came out with dog food, treats, and new Christmas sweaters, because . . . well, it was Christmas. I was just about to head back when I saw a Buy One Get One sign in the window of a discount retailer. Now that Lexi and Angelo were going to spend the holidays with me, they’d need Christmas presents. Two hours later, I emerged with two cartloads of gifts.
I let the sales associate load the back of my SUV and tried not to think about how much I’d just spent on two kids I barely knew. Somehow, the money didn’t bother me. It was Christmas and I always liked to give a bit more during the holiday season. Leon and I never had much, but we recognized we were blessed. So, during the Christmas season, we usually upped our charitable donations. At the school where I worked, we adopted a family for Christmas. So, if I looked at my purchases in that light, I didn’t feel quite so bad. Besides, very few of the items were frivolous. I’d spent the most on clothes. Underwear and warm clothes were things they could use immediately. However, now that they were staying through the holidays, that also meant they’d be around for the wedding. So, I found a lovely burgundy dress that would look great on Lexi. Suits for small boys were scarce. But, I did find a nice pair of dark pants and a dress shirt. I considered it providence when I saw there was a burgundy vest. It might be a little big for him, but Nana Jo could take it in.
I pulled into the garage and spent a few minutes sorting through the bags. I tried to figure out what I’d wrap for Christmas and what they needed for today. Most of what I’d bought was clothing. It had been quite some time since I’d last bought toys. Maybe I’d spend some time talking to Angelo and try to find out what he’d like.
“Need some help?”
I dropped the dog food. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” Dawson bent down and lifted the dog food onto his shoulder and then relieved me of my other packages. “Let me help you.”
There were definite advantages to having a fit football player staying in your garage apartment.
He not only carried all of the bags inside, but also up the flight of stairs.
“Anything else?” He wasn’t even breathing hard.
“No, but thank you.”
He jogged back downstairs and continued on whatever had driven him into the garage in the first place.
I looked around. Angelo was watching cartoons on the television. Lexi was reading another book. The Murder of Roger Ac
kroyd. It was one of my favorite Agatha Christie books. She’d finished her other book and I’d told her she was welcome to read anything that could be classified as a cozy mystery. Agatha Christie was the queen of the cozy mystery, so she would be safe. I wasn’t an advocate of limiting what anyone read. As a child, I read a great number of books that where above my reading level. My parents didn’t sensor what I read, so I started reading murder mysteries and romance novels at a young age. However, after a while, I found the puzzle of the murder more appealing than the Happily Ever After of the romances and that was what stuck. I enjoyed other genres, but my heart belonged to mysteries. Reading books opened up an entire new world for me. I smiled as I thought about my bookstore and about the possibility of seeing my own book on one of those shelves. Buying the building and opening a bookstore gave me something to occupy my mind after Leon died. Writing filled a lot of lonely nights. That love for books had opened my eyes to a completely new world. I hoped Lexi would find something similar. Maybe she wouldn’t open a bookstore or become an author, but, if nothing else, it would expose her to life outside of her foster family.
“Why are you staring at me with that goofy grin on your face?” Lexi stared at me.
“Oh, nothing.” I tried to wipe the goofy grin off my face, but I was sure it was reluctant to leave. “Hey, I bought you guys some clothes.”
“Yay!” Angelo jumped up and down. “Lemme see. Lemme see.”
Lexi put down her book and walked over to the bags. “Really?”
I dumped the bags on the sofa.
Lexi picked up the burgundy dress and held it up.
“I thought you could wear it to the wedding.” I tried to read her face to see if she liked it.
“We’re going to the wedding?” She looked up and her eyes had tears. “I thought you’d be sending us back.”
“My sister talked to your caseworker and she arranged for you both to stay during the holiday season.” I hadn’t considered the fact that maybe they wouldn’t want to stay. Now, I was unsure. “That is, if you want to stay.”
Lexi ran to me and threw her arms around me.
I hugged her tightly and tried not to cry. Angelo jumped up and down and joined in the hug so the three of us were hugging.