by V. M. Burns
“He seemed genuinely upset about Melody,” I said.
Irma coughed. “He was upset alright. I know real grief when I see it.” She coughed again. “He knew Melody had other lovers, but he said they had a ‘special bond.’”
“Yeah right. I’ll bet they had a special bond. The dirty old coot,” Nana Jo said.
“All I’m saying is he seemed sincere.” Irma took a swig from her flask.
“Irma, are you sure that’s what he said?” I asked.
Irma looked offended. “Of course I’m sure. I’m not senile.” She coughed.
“I just meant, are you sure he said Melody had other lovers, plural. Not that she had another love?” I looked at her in the rearview mirror and saw the look of recognition in her eyes.
“He definitely said lovers, as in more than one.” She coughed.
“But that could mean anything. Maybe he meant, through the years, she’s had other lovers,” Ruby Mae said. “Nowadays, it isn’t uncommon for girls to have had multiple lovers.”
“Well, I always had more than one,” Irma bragged. “Sometimes it was hard to keep them straight, but boy was it fun.” She laughed before breaking into a coughing fit.
Nana Jo stared at me. “You’re thinking she had another lover, other than Dawson and Virgil.”
“Could it have been that Trammel Braxton?” Dorothy asked.
I shook my head. “I really don’t think so. I think that relationship was over.”
I drove to the hospital and let the girls out at the front while I parked the car. By the time I made my way to intensive care, Nana Jo and the girls were flocked around Dawson and were mothering him. He was hugged, kissed, fed, and loved. All of them shoved money into his jacket at one time or another. That much concentrated attention could be overwhelming. When I noticed his eyes glaze over, I suggested the girls go down to the gift shop.
When they were gone, Dawson sat next to me and released a heavy sigh. “Thank you. They’re amazing, but I was starting to feel a little smothered.”
“They really care about you.”
He nodded. “I know. I care about them too, but it’s been pretty emotional. Nothing to do but think.”
“You sleeping?”
He shook his head. “Some, but it’s not easy. The nurses have been great. There’s a nurses’ lounge and they let me sleep in there. When he gets out of intensive care, then I can sleep on a cot in his room.”
“Any idea when that will be?”
He shook his head.
We visited a little longer and then the girls and I headed back to Michigan. I dropped Nana Jo and the girls at the retirement village and then swung by Jenna’s to pick up Oreo and Snickers. Jenna claimed she wasn’t a big dog lover, but her husband, Tony, was especially fond of Snickers.
When I got to her house, Oreo was barking before I got to the front door. He met me at the door and barked nonstop until we left. Snickers, however, was curled up on the sofa with my brother-in-law, watching a football game and eating cheese crackers. She barely looked up to acknowledge my arrival. In fact, I had to pick her up and carry her to the car to get her to leave. Her affections were fickle and could be bought with snacks and belly rubs. She had received both from Tony.
At home, I let the dogs do their business before heading upstairs. The house felt very lonely without Nana Jo and Dawson. It was comforting to look outside and see a friendly light coming from his apartment. Nana Jo had her own house at the retirement village, but she had spent most nights here at the bookstore since the murder over the summer. I didn’t realize how much I relied on her until she wasn’t here.
I tried to sleep but something kept nagging at my brain, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. I sifted through the information from the day and tried to catch the clue, but it remained elusive. The best I could do was to narrow it down to something that happened at the memorial. However, the harder I tried, the further away it flew. Eventually, I gave up and decided to focus on other things. I got out my laptop.
Lady Penelope went down the back stairs to the servants’ hall. It had been quite some time since she’d been down here. As she turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, she couldn’t help but glance at the place where she’d fallen as a child. She busted her lip and nearly split her head open. That was prob ably the closest she’d ever come to seeing Thompkins befuddled. He hurried to fetch the doctor, stopping only long enough to scold the housemaid for waxing the floors to such a dangerous state. Mrs. McDuffie had been the calm one. She had picked up the crying girl and rocked her to sleep, while holding a towel to the cut to staunch the bleeding.
In the hall, Thompkins and the other servants were just finishing their meal but saw Lady Penelope and immediately stood at attention.
“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast.”
“Can we help you, Lady Carlston?” Thompkins asked.
Penelope had only been married a few months and still smiled every time she heard herself ad dressed as Lady Carlston. But she stifled the smile and looked at the servants. “I wanted to talk to you all. Won’t you please sit down?” She took a seat at the large table, knowing the others would never sit while she stood.
The servants seemed confused and looked to Thompkins, who gave a slight nod indicating they could sit.
Penelope looked around the table. “I know you’ve all heard about the terrible accident yesterday.”
Everyone nodded.
“Well, we were hoping you could help us.”
Thompkins coughed discreetly. “We will, of course, be happy to assist in any way we can.”
She looked around and saw confusion. “Perhaps you could tell me anything you saw that seemed unusual.” Penelope sat back.
The servants looked at each other. One of the housemaids squirmed in her chair.
Mrs. McDuffie smiled at Penelope. “Well, I don’t know much that’ll ’elp. We didn’t ’ave much to say to the little tart.”
“Mrs. McDuffie,” Thompkins said.
Penelope smiled and help up a hand. “It’s okay, Thompkins. I hate to admit it, but we didn’t like her very much either.” She leaned toward Mrs. McDuffie. “Please go on.”
“Well, we didn’t really get to know much about ’er. Thought she was too good for the likes of us.”
“How do you mean?” Penelope asked.
Flossie leaned forward. “It were the way she talked, ma’am.” Flossie put her nose in the air and looked down it. “Zis is the way Her Royal Highness prefers her coffee.”
The others snickered.
Jim, the footman, joined in, “I tried to talk to her when she first arrived, but she give me the cold shoulder and made it clear I wasn’t good enough to shine her shoes.”
“And our Jim is one of the best bowlers in England.” Mrs. McDuffie sniffed.
Frank chuckled. “I don’t think she cared much for cricket.”
Flossie poked Gladys in the ribs and gave her a stern look.
Gladys looked up and took a deep breath. “I tried to talk to her too, just to be friendly. I offered to help her unpack her things, but she said she didn’t need to unpack. Said she wouldn’t be staying here long. She was going to be rich and moving into her own man sion where she would be the mistress and have her own servants.”
“Pshaw.” Mrs. McDuffie snorted.
“Did she really? I don’t suppose she mentioned how she was planning to do this?” Penelope asked.
Gladys shook her head. “I’m sorry, m’lady. She didn’t say how. She just said she’d been watching her mistress and copying her mannerisms. She—” Gladys’s face flushed.
“It’s okay, Gladys. You can tell me what she said.” Penelope smiled.
“Well, she said if an American divorcée could snare a king, then she should at least be able to catch a lord,” Gladys said.
Thompkins gasped.
Mrs. McDuffie snorted again.
“I don’t suppose she mentioned which lord she had
in mind?”
Gladys shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
Flossie looked uncomfortable but took a deep breath. “I think I know, miss.” She looked at Thompkins, who nodded. “Well, I told Mr. Thompkins about seeing Lord Chitterly coming out of the duchess’s room.”
“Yes. We know about that,” Penelope said.
“But it weren’t the duchess’s room at all. It were her room, Rebecca. She and the duchess had switched rooms. I went in to clean and I saw her, Rebecca, I mean. She weren’t wearing no clothes.”
Mrs. McDuffie gasped. “The little trollop.”
“But I don’t understand,” Penelope said.
“She said the duchess wanted the room next to that German bloke, and her mistress didn’t care that the other room was smaller. So, they switched.”
“So Lord Chitterly had been with Rebecca and not the duchess?” Penelope asked.
Flossie nodded. “Yes, m’lady.”
Penelope nodded. “Very interesting.”
While Penelope was downstairs questioning the servants, Victor headed to Scotland Yard to talk to Detective Inspector Covington. He’d never been to Scotland Yard before and found the technology fasci nating. Everywhere he looked there was something new and interesting. He made his way to the detec tive’s desk.
They shook hands. “My God, man, I had no idea half this stuff existed. It’s no wonder the Yard has the reputation they do.”
Detective Inspector Covington smiled. “The twen tieth century technology is good, but nothing beats good old fashioned police work.” He indicated Victor should sit.
Once both men were seated, he continued, “But I don’t think you drove all the way out here just to check out the latest technology at the Yard.”
On the drive from the country, Victor had rehearsed several excuses to explain his presence. Face to face with the detective, none of them seemed believable. “Actually, old man, I wanted to know if you’ve determined which gun killed the maid.”
Detective Inspector Covington looked around. “I’m not working on that case. I’ve been pulled to work on a case of poaching in Shrewsbury.”
Victor stared. “Poaching?”
“Yes. Poaching. Serious business, poaching.”
“But surely, murder takes precedence over poaching?” Victor couldn’t hide the astonishment in his voice.
Detective Inspector Covington looked around again. He pulled a folder from a drawer and placed it on top of his desk. “Well, you know poaching is a hanging offense. It threatens the very seat of the British government.” He winked. “Nothing more important than finding poachers.” He tapped the folder and slid it toward him. “Care for a spot of tea?”
Victor nodded. “Yes. I believe I would.”
Detective Inspector Covington stood. “Afraid the canteen is clear down to the other side of the building. It’ll take me at least ten minutes to get the tea and get back. Think you’ll be okay?”
Victor nodded.
Detective Inspector Covington ambled down the hall.
As soon as he was gone, Victor grabbed the folder and opened it.
Victor left before Detective Inspector Covington returned.
Wickfield Lodge was a large U-shaped mansion, with the Marsh family’s bedrooms on one side of the U and the guest rooms on the other, with a long hallway in between. Lord William needed to talk to Lord Charles. In his present condition, there was no way he could make it to Chitterly’s room. Daphne volunteered to help.
She stood in front of the guest room now occupied by the Chitterlys. Just as she raised her hand to knock, one of the nearby doors opened. She turned and saw James. Her first instinct was to smile until she remembered this wasn’t the room set aside for the Duke of Kingfordshire. No, this wasn’t his room. She thought for a moment and remembered the arrangements her aunt had shared. This was Virginia Hall’s bedroom.
He saw her and had the decency to blush. “Daphne. What are you doing here?”
“Just getting Lord Charles. My uncle wants to talk to him.” She knocked on the door.
“I can explain.”
“No need.”
Charles Chitterly opened the door. “Yes?”
“My uncle was hoping you would join him for tea. He’s had an attack of gout and is confined to his bedroom at the moment, but if you don’t mind following me, I’ll be happy to lead the way.”
Lord Charles smiled. “I would like nothing better, my dear.”
Daphne nodded at James as she walked arm in arm with Lord Charles down the hall.
Chapter 17
Monday morning I had to get back to my routine. Fall break was over and the twins were back in school. Nana Jo promised to swing by at noon to give me a few hours break. The morning went by slowly, and I was soon missing both Nana Jo and Dawson a lot. Not just because of the help they provided, but they were also good company.
We’d gone through the stockpile of baked goods Dawson had left, so I ordered quite a few things from a South Harbor bakery that delivered. The baked goods were tasty but lacked the extra special oomph Dawson’s had. Admittedly, I might be slightly biased.
Nana Jo arrived promptly at noon. I went to the bank and deposited the check I’d been carrying around all weekend. Then I swung by a fast-food restaurant and grabbed a sandwich. As I was driving back to the store, I spotted a bright red Ford Escape on the edge of the parking lot of a large car dealership. Before I realized what I was doing, I pulled into the lot. As soon as I got out of the car, salesmen swarmed around me like locusts. My personal feeling is there is a special level of hell where the inhabitants are continually haggling with salesmen and buying and selling cars. It’s just above the level where your penance for a life of evil is spent buying and selling real estate.
Leon had taken care of things like haggling with car salesmen. However, I was a big girl and refused to be intimidated.
“I’m just looking!” I shouted. I pointed to one of the salesmen. “What’s your name?”
“Bob.” He stepped forward and reached out his hand. He opened his mouth to start his sales pitch but was halted when I held up my hand.
“Bob. I want to look at SUVs. I don’t want to be bothered. Don’t follow me. Don’t help me. When I need you, I will come find you. Understood?” I looked around at all of the salesmen. They all nodded and backed away.
The new models were on one side of the lot and the other side had a variety of used cars. The red Escape was last year’s model and had thirty thousand miles, but it had a sunroof, leather seats, and tons of other bells and whistles I didn’t even know existed. I spotted Bob about three aisles over and waved for him to join me.
“You were waving for me, right?” he asked, out of breath from his quick jog.
“Yes. I have questions.”
Bob answered all of my questions and went inside to get the keys so I could take a test drive. I showed him my driver’s license, and he came back with a license plate, which he stuck in the back window and gave me a large key fob. I stared at it. There was no key.
Bob laughed and explained all I had to do was push a button and, as long as I had the fob within a certain range, the car would respond. The doors unlocked. The motor started. It was magic.
I drove the car in a big loop around the block, which included a short jaunt on Interstate 94. I was amazed at how quiet the car was and how smooth the ride. Bob talked the entire test drive, explaining every feature he thought would sell me on the car. Little did he know, I was sold at intermittent wipers and automatic lights. I would have been happy with lights that dinged when left on. These lights actually turned themselves on and off, like magic.
Back at the car lot, Bob asked if I had a trade-in. I escorted him to my SUV. I was insulted when he asked if I wanted to get it repaired before I got my trade-in estimate.
“If I wanted to get the car repaired, I wouldn’t be buying a new one.” I pointed out that all of the pieces were there and showed him the knobs in the ashtray.
&nb
sp; I looked at my watch. I needed to get back to the bookstore. Bob did everything he could to get me to stay, including a suggestion that I put a deposit down on the vehicle to make sure no one bought it before I returned. I declined. If it was gone in a few hours, then it wasn’t meant to be.
At the bookstore, Nana Jo took one look at me and knew something was up. I had planned to surprise her when I arrived with the car, but she always knew when something was going on with me.
“It’s about time,” she teased when I told her about the car. “You can go back. I can handle things here.”
The store wasn’t busy. In fact, she was reading an Agatha Christie collection of short stories, The Mysterious Mr. Quin. However, now that I’d told her, I wanted her to see it before I bought it. I wanted her approval.
The hours until closing passed very slowly. When it finally did arrive, we dashed off to the car lot. My red SUV was still parked where I’d left it, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Nana Jo heartily approved. I’d completed some of the paperwork for financing before I left and when we returned, I learned the trade-in amount for my CRV and the rate the dealership offered for financing. If Bob thought I had been tough on him earlier, he learned I was a lightweight compared to Nana Jo. She pulled out her iPhone and went to a few websites. By the time she finished negotiating, I got the car for five thousand dollars less and 2 percent better interest rate. We transferred my belongings from the Honda, and my heart tugged the slightest bit as I took one last look. I smiled and gave her a pat. “You served me well.”
I signed a ton of papers, shook hands with Bob, and drove my new SUV off the lot.
“Open the sunroof. Let’s go pick up the girls and go for a spin,” Nana Jo said.
Before we could head to the retirement village, I got a call from Dawson. The rings vibrated throughout the car’s stereo system.
“What on earth . . .” I said.
Nana Jo laughed. “You have Bluetooth. I synched your phone with the car while you were talking to Bob. Touch that button there.” She pointed.