Ask Me No Questions

by Shelley Noble

  She started when Lily appeared by her side.

  “Do not worry, my lady. I will protect you with my life.”

  Phil swallowed. “Well, thank you, Lily, but let us hope that won’t be necessary.” She frowned pensively. “Do not do anything to jeopardize your own safety. Do you understand?”

  At first Lily didn’t answer.

  “That is an order, Lily.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Then bring me my hat and let us go.”

  Preswick and Tuttle were waiting for them downstairs, both looking as butlery as ever, except that Preswick wore an oversized driving coat over his black suit. He held a spotless black bowler under one arm. Phil hoped he didn’t insist on wearing it while they were driving. He would lose it for certain.

  Cook had packed them a picnic. “In case the food out there at the track isn’t up to snuff.”

  “As if it was a muddy track in the back of beyond and not the most elegant and exclusive park in the country,” Bev whispered to Phil and then thanked Cook for her thoughtfulness.

  They donned their dusters over their dresses, tied scarves over their hats and, at least on Phil’s part, hoped for the best.

  They were followed out of the house by Tuttle and several other servants, carrying makeup cases, emergency supplies, and food and drink, leaving barely enough room for Preswick and Lily to crowd into the backseat. Bentley cranked up the Packard, and with a longing look at the travelers, waved them farewell.

  They were early enough so the streets were clear except for early morning deliveries, and the trip took far less time than it had the week before. They went directly to the track and parked alongside several other motorcars in a flat, grassy field.

  “You should have been here for the grand opening,” Bev said as they removed their driving coats and Lily and Preswick unloaded the car. “There were so many automobiles and carriages, not to mention the trolleys and the railroad. What a nightmare.”

  Phil folded her gloves and slid them into her duster pocket. When she pulled out her hand, a square of paper was stuck to her finger. The candy wrapper she’d found on the auto’s floor must have stuck to the pocket lining. She crumpled it, passed it over to Lily to dispose of and licked the peppermint off her fingers.

  She frowned. “Bev, didn’t you say Reggie never let Freddy drive the Packard?”

  “Never let anyone but the drivers and me. Why?”

  “Just curious.” She was more than curious, though she resisted letting her mind go down the path that was beckoning.

  “It is beautiful,” Phil agreed, as they started across the lawn toward the entrance.

  “It is, and I’m sorry that your first glimpse of it is through the clubhouse. The main entrance is quite spectacular. The Field and Turf Club is housed in this beautiful old mansion, and the walks are lined with…”

  Phil let Bev prattle on. Indeed, the park was incredible from what she could see. Wonderfully landscaped with an impressive array of buildings.

  They entered an underground walkway, a wide tunnel able to accommodate hundreds, where each footstep left an echo ringing in their ears.

  “And on the left under those trees is the saddling paddock,” Bev continued as they came out of the tunnel onto more grassy lawn and an iron gate. They walked around two buildings to another entrance, this one flanked by four large columns.

  “And this is the clubhouse. Isn’t it grand? I swear it rivals the best of the European courses.”

  It was an impressive three-story, light brick and limestone building more like a mansion than a viewing station. Two terraces stretched across the front, a perfect shady spot for watching the race.

  They walked through the columns and up the steps.

  “Do you mind if we drop Preswick and Lily off in the clubhouse, and then I think we should go directly to the stables to make sure things are running according to plan.”

  “You mean to make sure Devil’s Thunder is fine.”

  “Yes.”

  Bev had ordered a private room, where they left Preswick to unpack opera glasses, parasols, and other paraphernalia that Bev swore they couldn’t do without. Bev and Phil took Lily to the ladies’ retiring room to repair their toilettes.

  “You stick close to Preswick today, Lily,” Phil said as Lily recurled tendrils around Phil’s cheek. “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Lily moved over to help Bev place an elaborate hat of plumes and jewels and braid over her coiffure.

  “Very nice. That will be all,” Phil said. “You and Preswick go find yourself some tea. He’ll take proper care of you. Do not go down to the stables on your own.”

  Lily’s eyes traveled upward as Phil knew they would, but the girl managed to stop them before it became a full eye roll.

  “I am quite serious. Promise me. We don’t know who we can trust.”

  “We can tr-r-rust R-r-rico.”

  “I hope we can. But best not to get him involved in anything that he isn’t involved in. You know how the police are.”

  “Yes, my lady. They are r-r-r-ogues.”

  “Unfortunately, some are. Promise.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Lily curtseyed, and after gathering up combs, brushes, atomizers, and pins, she withdrew.

  “She’s a gem,” Bev said, admiring herself in the mirror. “If a little odd.”

  “Yes, and I thought she’d managed to get rid of that habit of rolling her r’s when upset.”

  “I hadn’t noticed that before. Is she upset?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Rather. I just can’t believe that all this is happening.”

  They took an elevator, a novel experience for Phil, down to the first floor.

  “The stables are this way,” Bev told her. They passed between the track and the grandstand, an enormous building painted green and tan.

  “It holds eleven thousand they say and has eateries and private boxes and all manner of things for the public. I’ve never actually been in it, nor in the field stand next to it. Reggie insisted on rubbing elbows with the elite during the actual races.

  “The only time he came over here was to lay a bet. The bookmakers have a separate area under the grandstand. Can you imagine, there were over three hundred legitimate bookmakers here opening day. The hurdlers had to stand out in the weather.”

  “What an education I’m getting,” Phil said, having to change her stride to keep up with Bev’s suddenly quicker one. “What are hurdlers?”

  “The ones who don’t keep enough funds to actually pay out on winners and have to jump the fence to get away from angry bettors.”

  “Ha, too bad I didn’t come to America years ago. What a wonderfully colorful atmosphere.”

  Bev sighed. “I still think we should have placed the money in the safety-deposit box on Devil’s Thunder.”

  “Perhaps, but if it was illegally gained…” Or if Devil’s Thunder was fated to lose the race … Phil was certain they were both thinking the same thing, though they were loath to admit it. And how on earth were they going to stop it?

  Bev began walking faster. “The stables are up ahead. There are forty of them, all laid out in neat rows. They can accommodate up to nine hundred horses. Holly Farm horses are housed in one of the southeast stables.”

  Phil listened to her friend rattle on. She’d hadn’t heard Bev wax so excitedly about anything since she’d learned they were going to have a male nude model for Monsieur André’s art class. Though she imagined it might be nerves as well as enthusiasm.

  They passed into a grid of white wooden buildings that must be the stables. A whole village of carefully laid out spacious stables with outside covered porticos where the horses could be exercised during inclement weather. Bev fell silent as her pace quickened and her urgency to get to Holly Farm’s stables increased.

  They passed several stables before they came to the one occupied by Holly Farm. Bev led the way through an entrance at one end of the rectangul
ar building and into a wide aisle between two rows of stalls.

  Phil could see Freddy and Henry talking at the far end. Henry looked up and saw them. Freddy turned and after a moment of surprise strode toward them.

  “My goodness, this is a surprise. What are you doing here so early?”

  “I just came to check on Devil’s Thunder and the others. What are you doing here so early?”

  “Doing absolutely the same. We should have coordinated our efforts. No need for us both to be here.”

  Henry had returned to the stall and Freddy pulled Bev aside. “Actually, I felt I needed to be here. Henry called to say Bobby has been skulking about. It may be nothing, but I don’t trust him. He may be here out of habit, but he might be up to something. So I came out to help Henry make sure he doesn’t get near the horses.”

  “You don’t think he would hurt them?” Bev didn’t wait for an answer, but brushed past him and headed toward Thunder’s stall.

  Freddy hurried after her. Phil hurried after him.

  Henry had tethered Devil’s Thunder to the back corner of his stall while he checked the horse’s hocks.

  “Is he okay?” Bev asked, peering into the stall.

  Phil came up beside her and looked inside. The horse seemed to be fine, though it was hard to tell between the uneven lighting and Henry’s body blocking her view.

  Henry stood up and came over to the half door. “Everything is looking good. He’s in fine fettle and ready to run. Just leave it to us.” He turned back to his work.

  “And did you settle on Rico as the jockey?” Bev persisted.

  Henry mumbled something, but since he was facing the horse his answer was lost on them.

  “He seems preoccupied,” Bev whispered.

  “I do get that impression,” Phil said, looking around. Everything seemed normal.

  Two stable boys passed so closely, sloshing water from heavy metal pails, that Freddy pulled Phil and Bev out of the way.

  “Busy place during the races and dirty. I hope you didn’t soil your frocks.”

  “Are you’re saying we’re a nuisance?” Bev asked.

  “Not at all,” Freddy said, “but the horses do get rather high-strung before a race and Henry likes to keep things as strictly to a routine as possible.”

  “I understand,” Bev said. She took another look down the row of stalls. “We’re leaving now, Henry.”

  Henry straightened up, pulled on the brim of his cap.

  “Only three racing today?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Devil’s Thunder, Dander, and Filly’s Cert. Scratched Carolina ’cause of her shins. We left her and Binkie’s Boy back at the farm. I’ve got a couple of the boys putting them through their paces.”

  “Why isn’t Binkie’s Boy running?” Phil asked.

  Henry straightened up. “We ran him at Jamaica last week. Giving him time off.”

  Jamaica last week, thought Phil. And could have kicked herself. She’d been looking for horses racing against Devil’s Thunder. Was it possible that Reggie’s other horses had been running in those races? She’d checked on Thunder but hadn’t thought to check further. This investigation business was not as easy as Sir Arthur made it appear.

  “Well, carry on,” said Bev.

  “Are you breakfasting at the clubhouse?” Freddy said. “I’ll join you there later if I may.”

  “Please do. Is Marguerite coming out?” Bev asked.

  “Not today. She’s been afflicted with a headache for several days now. A brief respite of country air would do her good, but she says she’ll wait for Newport.”

  “Hey, you there!” he called out to one of the boys. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  Bev and Phil watched him stride down the stall.

  “He looks rather out of place here, doesn’t he?” Bev said. “Neat as a pin as they say.”

  “Yes,” Phil said, but she wasn’t really paying attention. She wasn’t thinking about murder, but how even now that Bev was the owner of these horses, the men still dismissed her as being in the way.

  At the moment Bev was just a third wheel. But if she intended to keep the stables going, she’d have to take more interest in their day-to-day running.

  As they were leaving, she saw two men talking in the shadow of one of the large oaks that shaded the grounds. Phil recognized Rico, but when he looked up and saw her, the other man moved away out of viewing. In that second Phil could have sworn it was Bobby Mullins, and if he was talking to Rico who was riding Devil’s Thunder today, he had to be up to no good.

  * * *

  It had been arranged the night before that once Phil and Bev were established in the clubhouse, Preswick and Lily should have a few hours off to amuse themselves. Phil had given Preswick money for the occasion, which he tried not to take, saying that he had plenty of coins saved up from his salary.

  Phil had no doubt of that, the man hardly ever took his days off. Nonetheless, she ordered him to not only take the money but to treat himself and Lily, emphasizing that it might be the first entertainment that Lily had seen in a long time, if ever. Even Preswick’s butler heart couldn’t hold out against that one. He took the money. Now Phil would have to tell him to keep Lily from the stables and apprise him of the situation.

  Phil and Bev had a delightful breakfast of omelets and fresh fruit, though Phil barely tasted it, she was so preoccupied with the coming day.

  After breakfast they strolled in the gardens surrounding Manice mansion, where the Turf and Field Club made its home. It was a lovely garden and delightful to be out in the fresh air of the country. And yet Phil wasn’t enjoying herself as she debated whether or not to tell Freddy that she’d seen Bobby and Rico together. But should she trust Freddy?

  The thought stopped her right in front of an azalea bush. Is that why Reggie was dead? He’d trusted the wrong man? Or woman? He’d figured out that Bobby had been fixing the races and was going to fire him, or perhaps even testify against him?

  Bobby might have killed Reggie to keep him from talking. He was a good friend of Mimi’s. Maybe he knew about the lists. Perhaps he and Mimi had planned it together. Though that didn’t make sense. Mimi was willing to sell the evidence. Perhaps because it didn’t point to Bobby. There hadn’t been a B.M. anywhere.

  Because it hadn’t happened yet? This might be the first time one of Reggie’s horses was going to throw a race. And considering the excitement over the thoroughbred, there was a lot of money to be made. But then what did all those names on the list mean?

  And if Bobby was involved, who was his accomplice in the stables? The missing Eddie? If he was missing and not dead. Or Rico. Rico had been willing to speak to her, but had he told the truth or had he been told what to say?

  All she had was questions. Why hadn’t she confided in John Atkins? How on earth did she propose to stop a fixed race and find a murderer on her own?

  “Phil, if I’d known you were so partial to nature, I would have taken you to the botanical gardens.”

  “What? Oh, the azaleas, they’re lovely, aren’t they?”

  “I guess. Though rather past their full bloom.” Bev huffed a long sigh. “Oh, Lord, there is Mrs. Osbourne, in the most egregious platter hat with the fruit and pheasants. Maybe she won’t—too late. She’s seen us.” Bev plastered on a smile, remembering to look sweet, slightly bewildered, but brave as a grieving widow should.

  “Ah, Mrs. Reynolds and Lady Dunbridge. What a surprise to see you here.”

  “Yes, I thought the best way to honor Reggie’s memory was to carry on what he loved best.”

  Phil watched in admiration as Bev kindly nodded through Mrs. Osbourne’s condolences and the introduction of her two friends, both sporting hats larger even than Mrs. Osbourne’s. Then Bev introduced them to Lady Dunbridge.

  “She’s been such a support in my grief,” Bev said tearfully. “I don’t know what I would have done without her. Now, you must forgive us, Mrs. Osbourne. It was so delightful to see you, but we promised to meet Reggie’s co
usin Freddy Beecham for a late breakfast. He’s practically taken over running Reggie’s business. Such a help.”

  “Is Marguerite here?” Mrs. Osbourne asked. “She was looking very unwell at the Langham’s ball the other night. Didn’t you think, Lady Dunbridge?”

  “Rather pale, yes.”

  “Ah, well, perhaps she’s finally in a family way? I know she was hoping for some little ones for a while now.”

  “Oh, she hasn’t said. She’s been concerned for me and I’ve been too selfish to ask about her.” Bev, in a bit of unseen prestidigitation, produced a hankie and lifted it to her eye.

  Mrs. Osbourne looked sympathetic. “Not at all, out of sadness may come some joy.”

  Her two friends murmured and nodded. The movement of their hats reminded Phil of an arcade game.

  “I’m sure you’ll return the favor when she needs you.”

  “Of course,” Bev said. “So nice to see you.”

  “Delightful seeing you again, Mrs. Osbourne,” Phil added. “And meeting you ladies.” She nodded. They nodded. And she and Bev withdrew as quickly as they could without appearing to sprint across the garden.

  “This is harder than I thought,” Bev said. “The looks, the pretend sympathy, but really thinking that I should be home weeping into a soggy handkerchief. Hypocrites.”

  They didn’t go back to the clubhouse right away but turned into a wide walkway lined by tall trees.

  “It’s like a vast park as well as racetrack,” Phil said.

  “Lovely, isn’t it. When the cigar smoke, the shouting, the running back and forth to make bets get to be too much, it’s nice to have a place to escape to.”

  Phil looked at her old friend. “Are you tiring of the fast life, Bev?”

  Bev shrugged slightly. “Look where it got me.”

  “You’re the owner of a successful racing stable.”

  “True. Maybe I’ll retire to the country with my horses.”

  Phil laughed. “Not just yet.”