by V. M. Burns
Oscar looked dazed. We had to run through the details of what Margaret had done several times before it actually seemed to sink in. When he finally grasped the situation, his overriding emotion seemed to be relief. He kept looking from me to Nana Jo and repeating, “You mean we weren’t legally married? I’m free?”
Mom sat quietly in her chair and drank strong tea with sugar, which Harold said was good for shock.
When I finished giving my statement to the police, I went to my mom and gave her a hug. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Of course, dear . . . it’s just so . . . unladylike.” She shook her head. “Fighting in public is just so common. I’m terribly ashamed.”
I kissed her. “I’m so proud. Who knew you had such a strong right hook?” I joked.
She tsked and shook her head.
Needless to say, there was no shopping done. In fact, by the time the police left and we headed back to Michigan, I was exhausted.
There was a note on the counter of my apartment that everyone had gone to Frank’s for dinner. It was only then that I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. I was physically and mentally exhausted and made a grilled cheese sandwich and went to bed.
Unfortunately, sleep was elusive. After tossing and turning for close to an hour, I decided to try another tactic and pulled out my laptop.
Thompkins started to enter the servants’ hall, but was halted when he saw a disturbing sight, Mrs. McDuffy sitting at the large oak table softly crying into a handkerchief. He turned to leave, but the housekeeper stopped him.
“You might as well come in.” She sniffed.
Thompkins turned slowly and entered the hall. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
She waved away his protest. “You’ll need to hear soon enough. May as well get it over with.” She looked up. “It would make things easier if you’d sit down so I don’t get a stiff neck looking up at you.”
The butler sat tentatively but maintained his posture as he perched on the edge of his seat.
“Turns out that cocky peacock tried to get fresh with the maids.” Mrs. McDuffy pursed her lips. “Tried it with Millie and Gladys both ’e did.” She huffed. “Thankfully, they wasn’t fooled by ’is fancy talk and bright clothes.” She made a fist with her hands.
Thompkins stared. “I take it Flossie wasn’t so lucky.”
Mrs. McDuffy hit the table. “Filled ’er ’ead with all kinds of nonsense about meeting film stars and important people. Told ’er ’e could get ’er in the flicks. That’s what done it.” She shook her head. “Silly cow.”
Thompkins took a deep breath and then coughed. “How is the girl?”
Mrs. McDuffy looked up. “Well, she’s been crying ’er eyes out. Scared she’s going to lose ’er position, and ’er young man.” She leaned toward the butler and whispered conspiratorially, “The butcher’s son Tom’s been sweet on ’er for years. But she wouldn’t ’ave ’im.” She shook her head. “Dreams of ’ollywood and meeting film stars . . . I thought it was ’armless fun. After all, I had my fancies too when I was young.”
The butler frowned. It was too taxing on his imagination to think of stout, sturdy Mrs. McDuffy fanati-cizing about actors.
The housekeeper looked at the butler’s face and laughed. “You can’t imagine me dreaming about running away with a famous actor?” She chuckled. “I ’ad my fantasies all right. I was young once meself. Although, it wasn’t the cinema in my day. All we ’ad was the stage, but I tell you, sir, ’enry Irving cut a fine figure as ’amlet.” She shook her head and chuckled.
Thompkins coughed. “The girl will have to leave. Her conduct—”
“What about ’is conduct? It takes two to tangle.” Her nostrils flared and her face got red. “If I ’ad ’im ’ere, I’d box ’is ears and wring ’is scrawny neck.” She pounded the table with her fist.
Thompkins stared at the housekeeper. “Someone has beaten you to it.”
Mrs. McDuffy took a deep breath. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
The butler waited.
“Gladys was cleaning out the nursery and . . . well, she found something.”
“What was it?”
Mrs. McDuffy pulled a white large object wrapped in a bloody cloth from her lap and placed it on the table.
The butler stared.
“If I’m not mistaken, I’d say it was the murder weapon.”
Daphne and James sat side by side in the library going through the seating chart. Daphne intently studied the layout.
James was more interested in admiring the curve of Daphne’s neck. He bent close and kissed her neck.
Daphne giggled. “James, you’re not taking this seriously.”
“Oh, I am very serious.” He nuzzled her neck.
“I’m talking about the seating chart, silly.” Daphne turned to her beloved. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can move on to other things.”
James quickly straightened up. “Why didn’t you say so?” He looked intently at the chart. “What do you need me to do?”
Daphne smiled. “I need you to make sure all of your guests are correctly placed.”
James frowned and pointed to one of the squares. “Percy Waddington should be on your side. I didn’t invite him.”
Daphne looked puzzled. “You must have invited him. I certainly didn’t invite him.”
James stared from the layout to Daphne. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I know him, but he’s not a close personal friend and I only invited close friends and family.”
The Marsh family, along with a few members of their inner circle convened in the library, Lady Elizabeth knitted near the fireplace.
The butler entered with a tea cart and turned to leave.
“Thompkins, I think you should stay for this meeting.” Lady Elizabeth put her knitting aside and began pouring tea.
He nodded and moved to a wall and stood tall and erect.
Lady Elizabeth distributed the tea. “Now, who wants to go first?”
Lord William sat in his favorite chair while Cuddles lounged at his feet. He shared the information he’d learned from his conversation with Major Davies. “Major Davies certainly had a reason to want Philippe Claiborne dead.”
Detective Inspector Covington sat in an armchair and took notes. He looked around. “James . . . ah, I mean, His Grace isn’t here, but we learned there was a burglary reported at nearly every home where Philippe Claiborne staged some large soiree. No one thought to check the event planner.” He shook his head. “The boys at the Met really dropped the ball on this one. However, to be fair, they’ve had their hands full, chasing their tails with the Halifax Slasher nonsense.” He sighed and then went back to his notes. “We can’t prove it was really Philippe Claiborne who pinched the items or if he was the front man who came in and cased the place for his confederates.”
“Oh my.” Lady Alistair fanned herself. “How terrible.”
“Dirty blackguard.” Lord William beat his fist against the arm of his chair, shaking it enough to wake Cuddles.
Detective Inspector Covington stared at Lady Elizabeth. “What put you on to him?”
Lady Elizabeth sipped her tea. “I think it was the way he walked around the room the first time we met. He looked at the paintings and picked up several of the objets d’art. I think that’s why he used that flamboyant persona. It made his actions fit the character he’d created.” She sipped her tea. “Plus, there was the comment Helene made that reminded us.”
Lady Alistair looked puzzled. “Me?”
“Yes, dear, don’t you recall? You reminded me the scandal occurred at the same time Lady Catherine’s tiara was stolen. It made me wonder if perhaps that stolen tiara was really important.”
“Well, I never . . . I mean really.”
Lady Elizabeth nodded. “Must have been buried in your subconscious.”
“Victor?” Lady Elizabeth asked.
Victor gazed into the fireplace. Upon hearing his name, he
started. “I beg your pardon.”
“Were you able to talk to Percy Waddington?”
Victor relayed his conversation. “Seems he’s been in a bad way, financially, and thought he’d bum a free stay. Nothing much to it I’m afraid.”
“That explains it, then.” Daphne looked around. “I have no idea where James is, but when we were going over the seating chart, we realized neither of us invited Percy Waddington to the wedding.” She shrugged. “It’s rather sad. He must be in an awful state to just show up in the hopes of having a place to stay.”
“Hmm . . . I suppose so.” Lady Elizabeth put down her cup. “I think he’s an art dealer, isn’t he?”
Victor nodded. “Yes. He has a shop in Mayfair.”
“Rather expensive area, Mayfair,” Detective Inspector Covington said.
Victor looked surprised. “You think he made it all up?”
There was silence.
Detective Inspector Covington coughed. “If Philippe Claiborne was pinching art and jewels, he’d need a fence to unload the stuff.”
Victor stared. “Surely not Percy.”
Lady Elizabeth turned to the detective. “Did you tell anyone how Philippe Claiborne died?”
Detective Inspector Covington shook his head. “We like to hold back some of the details. We haven’t released that yet.”
“So, how did Percy Waddington know he’d been stabbed in the back?” She picked up her knitting.
“There’s only one way he could have known that.” Detective Inspector Covington wrote in his notepad.
“Could you have someone check into his shop in Mayfair?” she asked.
The detective nodded. “I’ll have someone check it out.”
Lady Elizabeth knitted. After a few moments she looked up. “Thompkins, perhaps you should share what you learned from Mrs. McDuffy.”
The butler coughed discreetly but stepped forward and relayed the information about Flossie. “I’ve offered my resignation to her ladyship but would like to apologize formally to his lordship and to accept responsibility for this incident, which has happened on my watch.”
“Nonsense, man. I won’t hear of it.” Lord William reassured the butler. “Times are very different and young girls are . . . well, not as careful as in years gone by.”
“Young girls?” Lady Penelope sat up in her chair. “Why are the young girls to blame? If you ask me, its men like Philippe Claiborne who’re to blame. They waltz into a house and fill a young girl’s head with promises and then, after he’s had his way, he tosses her aside like a piece of garbage.” Her eyes flashed and her face flushed.
“I heartily agree,” Lady Daphne chimed in. “Besides, I hardly think it fair Flossie should lose her job and be tossed out on the streets because of the likes of Philippe Claiborne.”
Lady Elizabeth raised a hand. “No one is being tossed out of the house.” She turned to the butler. “Thompkins, I appreciate your concern for the family’s reputation, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s over and no one will lose their job.”
The butler bowed stiffly. He then told the family about the knife.
“Good Lord,” Lord William said.
Detective Inspector Covington flipped his notebook. “I sent the weapon back to the yard for analysis. Amazing what they can find nowadays. Not just fingerprints, but hair and nails and all kinds of information. Those blokes in the crime lab can tell you just about everything by looking through their microscopes these days.”
Lady Penelope looked distressed. “I don’t understand. Surely you don’t believe those children had anything to do with murdering Philippe Claiborne?”
Detective Inspector Covington shook his head. “No. I talked to the boys after Thompkins showed me the knife.” He sighed. “Turns out one of the twins overheard the duke and Lady Elizabeth arguing with Claiborne.” He flipped through his notebook. “Johan it was.” He looked up. “He didn’t want any of the family to be blamed, so he took the knife and hid it.” He smiled. “Thought he was protecting them.”
Penelope relaxed. “That’s so sweet.” She wiped tears away. “I know it was naughty for them to take the knife, and it had to be really scary for them to remove a knife from a dead body.” She sniffed. “I hope you won’t punish them.” She stared at the detective sternly.
Detective Inspector Covington shook his head. “I explained to them”—he looked at Thompkins—“with the assistance of Thompkins’s son-in-law, that he didn’t need to worry.”
“The poor boy probably doesn’t know how things are handled in a civilized nation like England.” Lord William chomped on his pipestem.
Lady Elizabeth knitted for several moments in quiet thought.
“What’s bothering you?” Lord William asked. “I know that look in your eyes. You’ve figured out something.”
Lady Elizabeth finished the row she was knitting. “I just think it’s very unusual that of all the houses Percy Waddington could have chosen that he chooses us.”
“What do you mean?” Detective Inspector Covington leaned forward.
“Don’t you remember what Lady Alistair told us? When she mentioned the stolen tiara, she also mentioned Percy Waddington’s sister, Mary?” She turned to Lady Alistair.
“Percy Waddington’s sister, Mary, was supposed to marry Sir Wilbur Hampton, but he refused to marry her. It was a big scandal at the time.” She sipped her tea. “They say the poor girl had a nervous breakdown. The family sent her off to stay with relatives in Australia. The last I heard, she’s still there.”
“I think I see what you’re thinking.” Lady Penelope leaned forward.
“How can we verify something like that?” Lady Daphne flushed.
“It would certainly provide a good motive.” Lady Elizabeth turned to Detective Inspector Covington. “I suppose there would be records at Somerset House?”
Detective Inspector Covington nodded. “It’ll take time.”
“It would be in bad taste, but wouldn’t it be faster if we just asked Sir Wilbur?” Lady Alistair asked.
Lady Elizabeth nodded. “Leave it to me.”
Lord William looked around from his wife to his nieces. “Confounded, I wish someone would enlighten me.” He pounded his fist on the arm of his chair.
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “I’ll explain it to you later, dear.”
Chapter 16
The next few days flew by. Between the Christmas rush at the bookstore, getting ready for the wedding, and preparing Lexi and Angelo to reunite with their Italian relatives, it was a busy time. Initially, Nana Jo and I had decided not to tell Lexi or Angelo about their relatives, but when Frank received word their family planned to travel to Michigan to spend time with them, we were forced to share.
Lexi took the information rather stoically. She didn’t remember her relatives, which might have been a result of the car accident. She was grateful she wouldn’t have to return to the Hoopers, but she was torn between leaving us and being with her family. Angelo was too young to be anything but excited.
It turned out getting passports for Lexi and Angelo wasn’t as long of an ordeal as it typically could be in the United States. They were born in Italy, and the Italian government was able to expedite replacement passports. I had several calls from Italy. My side of the conversations were short, but since Frank, Lexi, and Angelo all spoke Italian, they served as translators.
I got a real Christmas tree for the first time in years. When Leon and I were first married, we always had a real Christmas tree. As the years went by, we stopped taking the time. I bought an artificial tree with lights attached that involved connecting four pieces and plugging it into an outlet. After Leon died, I didn’t even bother taking the artificial tree out of the box and settled for a wreath on the front door to appease my family and stop all references to the Grinch and Scrooge. This year felt different. Something about having children in the house made me want to get a real Christmas tree and pull out all of my decorations.
One of the many presents wr
apped and under the tree for Lexi and Angelo was a large suitcase. When I learned they would be leaving right after the wedding, I let Lexi open it. She used the suitcase like a chest of drawers and kept her clothes in it.
I barely saw Lexi, Jillian, or Emma as they rushed to get the Yacht Club decorated for the reception. Fortunately, April decided to help out. She said she felt guilty for Lydia’s plans to bilk money from Harold. However, I suspected it might have been a desire to remain close to Rudy Blakemore. My feelings for April were complicated. She was aware of what Lydia did and, while she could have gone to the police, she chose not to. In the end, I decided to forgive and forget. It was the season for giving and forgiveness was one of the greatest gifts we had. It was true April was aware of Lydia’s deceptions, but she was just as much of a victim as Lydia’s clients. In the end, April proved herself to be an excellent organizer and we were all extremely grateful. So grateful, in fact, that Nana Jo invited her to the bachelorette party Nana Jo and the girls insisted on throwing for my mom at the Four Feathers. Not to be outdone, Frank and Tony arranged a similar gig for Harold.
A Hummer limousine as long as a city block picked up those of us who were over twenty-one, while the younger crowd had an overnight sleepover at the Avenue. Harold paid for the hotel rooms, pizza, movies, and games.
The ride to the casino was certainly entertaining. Champagne flowed freely. Irma opened the sunroof and stood on the seat so she could stick her head out of the top of the car. Unfortunately, it was freezing and she failed to account for the wind. So, when she stuck her head out, her beehive hairpiece nearly flew off. Had Nana Jo not pulled her down by the seat of her pants, she might have been extremely embarrassed.
I leaned close to my sister and whispered, “Hummer limousine rental, one hundred fifty dollars per hour. Bachelorette party at the Four Feathers, including three hotel rooms, free food, alcohol, and casino bucks, twelve hundred dollars. Watching Irma’s hairpiece flapping in the wind while traveling seventy miles an hour on Interstate 94, priceless.”