Murder at the Car Rally

by Sonia Parin

  Murder at the Car Rally

  1920s Historical Cozy Mystery

  An Evie Parker Mystery

  Book 3

  By Sonia Parin

  Murder at the Car Rally Copyright © 2019 Sonia Parin

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  About this book

  Lighthearted 1920s cozy mystery

  She can run, but she can’t hide.

  When Evie Parker, Countess of Woodridge, decides to spend a day in London unaccompanied she has no idea she will encounter the one person she has hoped to spend the rest of her life avoiding. There’s no escaping Isabel Fitzpatrick’s exuberant energy and desire to show off her new husband. However, the encounter sets off a series of events and brings trouble right to Evie’s doorstep.

  Even when Evie manages to return to her country house in Berkshire, she finds the only way to avoid her childhood friend is to flee by joining a car rally group, but trouble pursues her and now a man has died under suspicious circumstances. Stranded in a small village with a group of bright young things and a killer, Evie and her bodyguard, Tom Winchester, assist Scotland Yard Detective Inspector O’Neill to unmask the mastermind behind a drug trafficking ring. A difficult task when everyone seems to be hiding something.

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Author Notes

  Book by Sonia Parin

  Chapter One

  The best mirror is an old friend – George Herbert

  Late May, 1920

  Paddington Station, London

  “Evie Parker?”

  Evie performed a pirouette, swinging away from the familiar voice and using the pretext of searching her handbag to keep her gaze lowered as she strode off toward the nearest exit.

  Two steps away from disappearing into the throng of fellow train passengers, a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her back with unceremonious determination.

  “Evie, it is you! Good heavens, to think I had to make a transatlantic crossing and travel to England to see you again. Isn’t this marvelous? Seeing you… after all these years.”

  “Isabel,” Evie croaked. Ten years before, when she’d left New York as a debutante, she had promised to never again utter the name of Isabel Fitzpatrick. She had almost succeeded by only saying part of her name.

  “Of course, it’s not really Evie Parker anymore,” Isabel continued in the exuberant tone she had always employed to draw attention to herself. “Isn’t it Evie Halton now? I heard you married and perished with the Titanic during your honeymoon. I’m so happy to see you didn’t die.”

  Perished…?

  Evie had been nowhere near the Titanic when it had sunk all those years ago.

  Had people been saying that about her? She had just spent two years living in New York and no one had made reference to her rumored demise.

  In the next instant, Isabel Fitzpatrick pinched her arm.

  “Ouch!”

  Isabel tilted her head back and laughed. “I had to make sure it really was you, alive and well. Think what a blast we’ll have when I tell everyone how I met you at Victoria Station and pinched you to make sure you weren’t a ghost.”

  “It’s Paddington Station.”

  “Oh, so it is.”

  “What brings you to England, Isabel?” Evie forced herself to ask as she gave her arm a discreet rub.

  Isabel stretched her arms out and exclaimed, “Fame and fortune, of course. I married a famous gentleman. He’s a racing car driver. Don’t you think that’s thrilling? I do.” Isabel gave her short blonde bob a flick. “Oh, the fun we have. The parties we attend. Everywhere we go, everyone knows him and photographers are always on the prowl, doing everything they can to take a photograph of us.”

  Evie made a point of looking around. A porter stood behind Isabel ready to transport all her luggage. But she didn’t see anyone she could identify as Isabel’s famous husband, Lorenzo.

  While reluctant to encourage the conversation, Evie asked, “Is he traveling with you?”

  “Of course. We were staying at a grand old house in the south but he had to come to London for business and now I’m joining him. Oh, we are such busy bees. Soon we’ll be setting off again. We must get together. In fact, we must have lunch. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Evie scratched around her mind, trying to find a polite way to turn down the invitation. However, knowing Isabel would counter any attempt to say no with her own brand of persuasion, Evie abandoned her attempt and, instead, asked, “Where in the south were you staying?”

  “Surrey.”

  Too close for comfort, Evie thought.

  Isabel gestured to the porter. “I have a car waiting. It will take us straight to the Automobile Club.” She gave Evie a brisk smile. “It’s members only but you can come as my guest.”

  She then proceeded to sweep Evie out of the train station and straight into her motor car. Evie would never be able to explain how it had happened.

  “Andiamo, Marco.” Isabel leaned toward Evie and whispered, “My chauffeur is Italian. He doesn’t speak a word of English. I just told him we should go. Isn’t the Italian language beautiful? Oh, you should hear the wonderfully romantic things Lorenzo whispers in my ear. That’s my husband. Lorenzo Bianchi. It all sounds like music. You know, Italians have Latin blood. Everything they do, they do with tremendous passion.”

  As the motor car pulled away and Isabel continued to trip over her words, Evie gazed out the window and wondered how she had ended up in Isabel’s company.

  She could think of someone else who would wonder…

  Tom Winchester.

  If Tom got wind of this he would have her head on a platter. Since her grandmother had hired him to keep an eye on her, Evie had barely left his sight. Even if she explained she knew Isabel from way back, he would perceive her as a threat; guilty until proven innocent.

  Until recently, he had been parading around as her chauffeur and on two separate occasions, he had adopted the persona of Mr. Tom Winchester, independently wealthy man about town.

  In reality, her grandmother had hired him as Evie’s bodyguard. Evie should have objected, but if her grandmother required peace of mind, then so be it. Evie never thought of herself as being tremendously wealthy, less so since making Englan
d her home. The local gentry despised talking about money, although, they seemed to do a great deal of it behind closed doors. More so now that many estates were languishing due to poor management and lack of funds.

  In any case, if her wealth posed a threat to her safety she had never noticed. Especially not now that she had Tom Winchester around to keep a close eye on her.

  Since Evie had settled at her country estate, Halton House, in Berkshire, he had remained Mr. Tom Winchester and she had lost her chauffeur.

  Now that she thought about it, she could cast all blame on Tom. If he hadn’t been so determined to have his way and shadow her every step, she would not have tried to elude him and she would therefore not have traveled to London by herself or bumped into Isabel.

  It hadn’t been that difficult to escape him. If she really thought about it, she hadn’t been able to contact him…

  So, yes. She felt perfectly within her rights to cast all blame at his door.

  “So where are you calling home these days?” Isabel asked. “The Ritz?”

  Evie scattered the storm brewing in her mind. Isabel’s family had a grand house on 5th Avenue as well as a cottage in Rhode Island. Evie smiled as she recalled the first time she had described the so-called cottages to Henrietta. The dowager had been stupefied to learn some of the houses could rival any grand estate in England. Of course, Isabel would expect Evie to live in the lap of luxury.

  “I’m actually not far from here.” Evie waved her hand in the general direction of her town house in Mayfair. Although, after her escapade, she would be returning to her country house, but Isabel didn’t need to know that.

  “And what does your husband do?”

  Did she honestly not know Evie had married the Earl of Woodridge? “I’m not sure.” For all she knew, he spent his eternal afterlife sitting on a cloud looking down at her. Although, in life, he had been extremely industrious. Evie could well imagine him finding a métier of sorts, perhaps organizing the celestial library.

  “Oh, I’ve heard of those marriages,” Isabel commiserated in a hushed tone. “You poor thing. To think you came all the way here to only end up alone.” Isabel leaned forward. “Here we are. Isn’t it a splendid building? I swear the doorman is a Russian aristocrat stripped of everything after the revolution. I hear some of them have been reduced to working in service. I find that dreadfully demeaning. I’m inclined to feel sad on their behalf.”

  As she waited for the chauffeur to open the door, Evie plotted out an escape plan. She could excuse herself and say she needed to powder her nose and, along the way, she could bribe the maître d’ to pretend she had a telephone call. Perhaps an emergency…

  Shaking her head, Evie decided against the plan since no one would know where to find her. Then again… Isabel had always been so wrapped up in her life and her incessant chatter, she might miss the detail.

  “We’re right on time. The place fills up rather quickly but I dare say, they will always find a table for me. We made quite a splash when we arrived. A couple of photographers somehow made their way inside. Well, I suppose they greased someone’s palm. I’m sure there are plenty of people willing to do just about anything for money.”

  Leaving the bell boy to take care of her luggage, Isabel led them toward the restaurant, all the while talking non-stop. Since she had never favored subtlety, she earned more than her share of attention.

  “Oh, there he is.” Isabel waved and rushed forward calling out, “Ciao, Lorenzo.”

  A distinguished looking man stood up and spread his arms out.

  If Evie hadn’t witnessed the public display of affection, she would not have believed it.

  Finding the whole situation entertaining yet somewhat embarrassing, Evie looked away. She wished she hadn’t because before she knew what was happening, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her with a torrent of Italian thrown in for good measure.

  If that weren’t enough, several flashes exploded around her.

  “I told you,” Isabel chirped. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

  ***

  The next day…

  Halton Station, Berkshire

  Evie nudged the cuff of her sleeve and checked the time. Before leaving London, she had telephoned ahead and had given her maid, Caro, strict instructions to send Edmonds to fetch her.

  Knowing Caro disapproved of Tom’s transformation into Mr. Tom Winchester, Evie knew she could trust Caro to keep her request a secret.

  “What could be taking Edmonds so long?” she murmured under her breath. The stable hand had been champing at the bit for a chance to prove himself. Didn’t he realize she’d given him the perfect opportunity to impress her? He had done a splendid job driving her to the station but he now had to prove he could be consistent.

  She heard the roar of a motor car approaching and looked up only to cringe.

  Tom’s red roadster came to an abrupt stop. He sat staring at her, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his mouth set into a grim line.

  At times, Evie thought he seemed to forget he worked for her. Although, strictly speaking, his arrangement was with her grandmother. In any case, there were quite a few people in her employ who enjoyed taking liberties and expressing their displeasure or opinions willy-nilly.

  She had a good mind to put an end to it all…

  Watching his approach, she tried to gauge his mood. Dressed in his country squire suit in a light shade of gray, his hair looked slightly windswept. As for his eyes… they were narrowed into slits suggesting he meant business.

  Evie savored the moment. She wanted nothing more than to put his nose out of joint…

  Chewing her own bone of contention, Evie imagined he had intercepted Edmonds and had raced out to fetch her from the train station.

  When he reached her, Evie employed her breeziest tone to say, “Mr. Tom Winchester, fancy meeting you here.”

  He uttered a grumble and, slipping his hands in his pockets, he said, “Imagine my surprise when I called on you this morning and your butler told me you had decided to spend a day in town.”

  “Edgar said that? I shall have to have a word with him. I simply cannot have my butler distributing information about my whereabouts to just anyone.” Had that been Edgar’s way of expressing his dissatisfaction? She had dragged him away from the London house to step in while Mr. Crawford attended to his sick sister. While Edgar had not complained, as the days wore on without any changes to the arrangement, she had noticed Edgar becoming more restrained than usual, clearly reserving his opinions on the matter.

  Until now.

  What if Edgar used his role as butler to make Evie’s life difficult until she released him of his duties and allowed him to return to London? Heavens, what would he do when he learned Mr. Crawford would not be returning to Halton House? Evie hadn’t received confirmation, but she strongly suspected her country house butler wished to retire…

  Tom looked one way and then the other. Finally, he locked his eyes with Evie’s. “What on earth were you thinking, going off on your own? You didn’t even take Caro with you.”

  “Needs must. I tried to reach you but you were nowhere to be found…” That had prompted Evie to prove to Tom she didn’t need a bodyguard shadowing her every step. Certainly not if she had to go chasing after him.

  She could tell her blithe remark had him grinding his back teeth and yet, the edge of his lip appeared to want to break into a smile.

  “I take it you’re cross with me,” he said.

  Evie tapped her foot. “I find myself partial to the sentiment. You see, I have lost my chauffeur and gained a certain Mr. Winchester. Would you mind telling me what your current occupation is?”

  His jaw muscles twitched. “Nothing has changed.” Sighing, he added, “Is that why you went off in a huff?”

  Evie huffed. “I do not huff.”

  “You do, on occasion.”

  “Fine, but only when I am given reason to huff.”

  He looked down but she could still see his
smile.

  “I’m sorry to be the source of your discontentment.” He gestured toward the roadster. “May I drive you home?”

  Lifting her chin, Evie gave an insouciant shrug. “Yes, I suppose you may. I have no idea what could have happened to Edmonds. Am I supposed to adjust to new circumstances and carry on without a chauffeur or should I consider learning to drive myself?”

  Tom held the passenger door open for Evie who took her time settling into her seat.

  “At the risk of repeating myself, we never did get around to discussing our new arrangement,” she continued.

  Tom settled into the driver’s seat. “You know as well as I do I can’t go back to being your chauffeur now. What would Henrietta and Sara say?”

  The dowagers would require a great deal of explaining and then dismiss the strange arrangement as an American oddity.

  Tom brushed his hand across his chin. “Come to think of it, I see no reason why we couldn’t let them in on the secret.”

  “I do.”

  He turned to look at her. “Name one good reason why we can’t be honest with them.”

  “It would complicate matters and… and confuse them.” It had already confused her maid and Caro had shown no qualms about expressing her displeasure.

  Like all great houses in England, Halton House employed many people who took great pride in ensuring everything ran smoothly. Everyone had a role to play. Her maid’s frustration stemmed from the fact everyone knew their place. In her opinion, lines of distinction existed for a reason. Blurring those lines could disrupt the well-oiled machine and inspire chaos in an otherwise orderly world.

  “Are you honestly going to say they wouldn’t get past the idea of me being on a different social scale?”

  Eventually, they might, but it would take a lot of explaining. In reality…

  She rather liked having Mr. Winchester around and the dowagers had already accepted him as her childhood friend.

  Evie slanted her gaze toward him and wondered about his so-called social scale.