“I’ll take a shot.” Gloria took the bow, expertly nocked an arrow, and pulled it back, focusing one squinted eye on the target before smoothly letting the arrow fly. It sailed through the air, hitting the bulls-eye right next to Vera’s.
“Show-off.” Vera put down her bow. “She always hits the mark. My arm is tired. Who wants to play croquet? Wes, even you can handle that, right?”
Wes threw his arm around her shoulder and laughed. “That, even I can do.”
Everyone sauntered off toward the croquet area, but Hazel stayed back. If Wes and Vera were going to be occupied with croquet, now might be the perfect time to look around the cottage for rat poison. Hazel wasn’t convinced rat poison was what was causing Myrtle’s indigestion. Though she did seem a bit confused at times, she didn’t have any other symptoms like hair loss, skin lesions, or white lines on her nails, and she wasn’t terribly ill. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to snoop around. She eyed the grounds, trying to pick out a path she could take without being seen.
“He’s a pretty good shot, too.” Gloria had appeared beside Hazel and was staring at Wes as the others walked toward the croquet setup.
“But his hand injury keeps him from shooting,” Hazel said.
“Or from shooting well. I’m not convinced his hand is as damaged as he likes people to think. Wes has always been one to engender sympathy. When we were little kids, he used to milk every little injury,” Gloria said. “And I did notice he can hold a glass of scotch pretty well with it.”
Hazel thought back to Gloria’s earlier comment about how the person who shot the arrow that morning must not have been a very good shot. Now that she’d seen Gloria shooting, she could verify the girl knew what she was talking about. But even though Wes was a good shooter, would his hand injury have hampered his ability and made him miss the shot? Was Vera a good shooter, or was her hit on the bull’s-eye just luck? Fran and Edward weren’t good at shooting, but Edward’s shots had been so far off, Hazel doubted he could have gotten so close to Myrtle. Or maybe he’d shot like that on purpose.
“You’re not standing here thinking about archery, are you? You look like you’re deep in thought. Are you narrowing in on who has been doing these things to my aunt?”
“Sort of. Actually, I was thinking I would like to get a look at the cottage while Wes and Vera are otherwise occupied.”
Gloria nodded. “And you don’t want anyone to see you.”
“Right.”
“I think I can help. It just so happens I know of a way to get to the cottage around the other side of the house and no one will see us.”
Gloria led Hazel into the house then out through a side door in the kitchen. They scurried across a short patch of lawn and into the woods, though the scurrying was unnecessary since the mansion itself hid them from view of everyone who was gathered in the backyard.
“What are you looking for?” Gloria asked.
“Remember I told you this morning that I found the bow that we think was used to shoot at Myrtle at the beginning of the path to the cottage?”
Gloria nodded.
“When I followed the path, Wes and Vera were at the cottage. They were in an argument, so I didn’t go close to the house. I wasn’t sure if they’d been going at it for a while or one of them had just come in,” Hazel said. “You mentioned that you thought Myrtle’s indigestion indicated poison, and I remembered Vera said they had rats in the cottage.”
Gloria made a face. “Rats? I never heard that.”
“It’s possible. The cottage is set far from the house, and there’s a field behind it. Maybe Vera mistook field mice for rats. It’s also possible that someone might use rat poison for more than just eliminating rats.”
“Good point.” Gloria stopped in her tracks, her panicked eyes darting back in the direction of the house. “Do you think Auntie will be okay back there without us watching over her?”
“Of course. No one would dare try anything with all those witnesses about.” Would they?
Gloria turned back toward the cottage.
“I hear you introduced Wes and Vera. That you two are old friends,” Hazel said.
Gloria looked at her sharply. “Well, I wouldn’t say we’re friends. I did introduce them. Vera and I ran in the same crowd once.”
By the set of Gloria’s jaw, Hazel knew she didn’t want to talk about her relationship with Vera. It probably dredged up bad memories of an unhappy time. Though Hazel was curious about why Gloria and Vera had argued, she could tell Gloria wouldn’t be forthcoming. And besides, it likely had nothing to do with what was going on with Myrtle. She didn’t want to mention the drugs, because Gloria could be a good source of information, and she didn’t want to get on her bad side.
They continued a few more steps in silence, and then Gloria’s face softened. “They really do love each other.”
“They seemed affectionate back there at the archery field, but this morning, I heard them having an awful argument,” Hazel said.
“What about? Money?” Gloria asked. But before Hazel could answer, she continued. “I know they bicker a lot sometimes, but they really do love each other. Wes told me he’d do anything to keep Vera happy.”
“Does Vera have family money?” Hazel asked. “She seems to have expensive clothing.”
“She might have a little. They live in the cottage for free, so they don’t have many expenses. A little bit of money would go a long way.”
They came to the end of the path, and Hazel held Gloria back from darting out into the clearing toward the cottage. She wanted to be sure no one was there who could see them. She didn’t want Vera or Wes to know she’d been snooping around. “Are there gardeners or other people who might see us?”
Gloria shook her head. “The garden staff is all tied up over at the house with the lawn games. We’re all alone.”
They crept up to the front door, a large, thick piece of rustic oak, and tried the knob.
It was locked.
“Shoot.” Gloria peered in the window as if expecting to find a big carton of rat poison on the table.
Hazel stepped up to the large window beside her and looked in. Inside, the cottage was sparsely decorated. The furniture looked old but well cared for. Hazel was surprised: with Wes’s drinking and Vera’s strange attitude, she hadn’t expected them to keep a neat house.
“We might be able to get in the back door,” Gloria suggested.
Hazel followed her to the back of the cottage, where she was surprised to find a small, neatly kept kitchen garden just outside the door. The garden Fran had planted. She recognized mint, basil, tomatoes still green on the vine, chives, cucumbers, peppers, and one section of weedy flowers that she recognized as herbs. “Is this the garden Fran planted?”
Gloria nodded. “Wes loves fresh herbs. I come in and weed it for him sometimes. Lord knows Vera wouldn’t. He gives me some of the produce from it.”
“Nothing like fresh herbs and vegetables.”
Gloria tried the door, but it was also locked.
“Guess they don’t trust someone not to walk in,” Gloria said.
“Or don’t want someone to see what’s in there,” Hazel added.
Gloria pressed her lips together. “Seems kind of dangerous to keep poison in the house.”
Hazel followed her gaze as it came to rest on a small shed at the edge of the yard. She had a point: a shed was a much better place to keep poison.
The toolshed had a simple latch with no lock. The door creaked open, and Hazel peered into the darkness, the slice of sunlight filtering in from the doorway the only source of light. Even in the dim light, the box with the giant rat lying on its back, toes pointed in the air, was unmistakable.
“There it is!” Gloria pointed to the box.
But something else had captured Hazel’s attention. Over in the corner, amidst a pile of rusty tools with worn, rotted handles, was a brand-new garden spade with a thin pointed blade that looked, from where Hazel was standing, to be quite s
harp. The exact type of blade that would have been needed to sabotage the brick walkway.
Chapter Twelve
Hazel chose to keep her thoughts on the spade to herself. Even though Gloria was on “her side,” she’d learned long ago that it never paid to give up too much information. She’d already given her enough with the discovery of the rat poison, and while she felt reasonably comfortable that Gloria wasn’t a blabbermouth, all it would take was for her to mention the rat poison or the spade to the wrong person, and the killer might try to escalate his or her plan.
By the time they got back to the gathering, the late-afternoon sun was casting long shadows of golden light on the ground. The guests were starting to gather their things and leave. The staff was disassembling the archery, badminton, and croquet equipment.
After the last guest had driven away, Myrtle turned to Hazel. “Are you hungry? We should have Cook put together a late dinner. We only had those tiny sandwiches at tea, and I’ve worked up an appetite with all this activity.”
“Me too,” Wes said.
“Yes, let’s have Cook put something together.” Vera linked her arm through Wes’s, and they walked toward the front door.
Myrtle pulled Hazel to the side as the others walked into the house. “Have you found out anything?”
“Nothing conclusive. Don’t worry… we won’t let anything happen to you.”
Myrtle gave her a funny look. “Are you sure this all couldn’t just be coincidence? I mean, no one tried to harm me at all this afternoon, and I really can’t imagine that one of my relatives is trying to hurt me.”
“It hardly seems like an accident now that an arrow was pointed right at you.”
“We don’t know that it was pointed right at me. It could’ve gone astray,” Myrtle suggested hopefully. “Have you seen how bad a shot some of my family are…”
Hazel patted her arm. “Maybe. Don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of it whatever is going on.”
Myrtle’s cook must’ve been anticipating the request, because a hot meal was ready as Hazel and Myrtle walked into the dining room. Hazel kept a close eye on who was eating what. She didn’t think anyone would have had a chance to poison Myrtle’s food, as they’d all been outside… unless they’d snuck into the kitchen earlier that day. From what she could see, no one avoided any of the dishes. Even Vera seemed to fill her usually sparse plate. Wes had a good appetite, too, and Hazel noticed he washed it down with several glasses of whiskey, which he had no problem holding in his injured hand.
“I hope everyone had a good day today,” Myrtle said. “I think the guests had fun.”
“Oh, it was scads of fun,” Vera said. “I think my archery practice is paying off.” Vera turned to Fran. “Did you win the badminton game?”
“I did.” Fran slid her eyes to Edward. “At least that’s something I’m good at.”
Edward looked contrite. “Now, Fran, I didn’t mean anything by that remark. You’re a fairly good shot with a bow and arrow.”
“What about you, Hazel?” Myrtle asked. “I hope your afternoon was enjoyable.”
“Indeed it was,” Hazel said. And it had been, but probably not in the way Myrtle meant. Hazel had learned that the stone cottage had rat poison, and a spade that could have sabotaged the brick path. Not only that, but Vera was decent at archery, as was Wes, although Wes’s hand might hamper his ability. But Gloria had suggested the shooter wasn’t a crack shot like herself, so that made Wes all the more suspicious if his injury threw off his aim. Fran and Edward, on the other hand, were not that great at archery. Though Edward had just said Fran was a fairly good shot, she’d declined to shoot this afternoon, so Hazel had not seen for herself.
Her eyes slid to Fran, who was slathering butter onto a biscuit. Fran had been there this morning when the arrow had been shot at Myrtle. Fran was studying to be a nurse and would know all kinds of things about medicines, not to mention natural medicines and herbs that might act as a poison. Myrtle had said that Fran had been here almost before the doctor the day she mixed up her medicines. Was that because Fran had gotten word about it quickly through her nursing associations, as she’d said, or had Fran actually been close to Lowry House because she had snuck in and switched the medications in the first place? Maybe Fran had lied about seeing Gloria at Fanuel Square to give herself an alibi. Earlier today, Fran had had no trouble pulling out the embedded arrow, stating that her nursing job required a lot of strength. Whoever had sabotaged the brick path would’ve needed strength. And Fran herself said she was the one who planted Vera and Wes’s garden. Was she the one who had put the new spade in the toolshed?
“It was a grand time,” Gloria, who had been unusually quiet through the whole meal, chimed in.
Vera glanced at Gloria. “I didn’t see you there the whole time.”
Gloria narrowed her eyes, and Hazel saw a flicker of anger in them. She remembered the argument from earlier that morning. What was going on between Gloria and Vera? Did Gloria suspect Vera was the one trying to harm Myrtle? Did Vera have a motive that Gloria knew about but wasn’t coming forward with? Or did their strained relationship have something to do with their past?
“I didn’t realize you had been watching me the whole time,” Gloria said.
Vera shrugged and played with the sparkly necklace around her throat. “I wasn’t. I was just concerned something might have happened to you.”
Gloria forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
An awkward silence fell over the table, then Myrtle clapped her hands together. “Well, I’m glad everyone had a good time. I need to celebrate my eightieth in style.” She turned to Hazel. “Tomorrow will be even more fun. You might want to spend the day resting up, as the party should be quite lively, and we’ll have a small band and champagne toasts at midnight. I was born at midnight, you know.”
“That sounds lovely. Will there be a lot of guests?” Hazel was mostly thinking of how hard it was going to be to keep track of Myrtle amidst a throng of guests. Would someone try to murder her at her own party? Today, there had been just enough guests that Myrtle wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle, so Hazel had felt confident there would be no attempts. However, if there would be a large crowd tomorrow night, someone could easily lure Myrtle aside. Then there would be a whole household of suspects to muddy the waters.
“Oh, about fifty or so guests,” Myrtle said.
“Including the Rothingtons, I hear.” Vera raised a brow at Gloria, who frowned, her eyes narrowing at Vera.
“Now Vera, I know you aren’t keen on them.” Myrtle glanced at Vera then turned her full attention on Hazel. “But that’s old news. I hope you brought some finery, because we’ll be dressed to the nines.”
Hazel glanced at Gloria and Vera in their modern fashions. She hadn’t thought much about keeping current with fashions since Charles’s death. Could she wear the new fashions without looking ridiculously as if she were trying to pass for a younger woman? Then again, it worked marvelously for Myrtle. “I may need to make a trip into town.”
Myrtle waved her hand in the air. “Consider my driver your driver. Giles will take you wherever you want to go. There is a lovely dress shop right in Bergamot Square.”
Hazel furrowed her brow. “Bergamot Square? I don’t think I’m familiar with that.”
“Oh, it’s a lovely upscale area. You must visit Squires while you are there. It’s a fabulous antique store, and there’s a lovely place for tea there, too. Gloria can tell you where it is. I saw her there early this afternoon,” Edward said.
Gloria straightened in her chair and swiveled her head to look at Edward. “I wasn’t there.”
Edward pursed his lips. “You weren’t? I could’ve sworn I saw you coming out of the side street. Abbot Mews.”
Gloria shook her head. “No, that wasn’t me. I never go to that section of town. I can’t afford it, and besides, I haven’t left the house all day.”
“Giles knows where it is.” Wes leaned forward as
if sharing a secret. “He drives Vera there. She gets her jewelry used at a little estate jeweler in the square. Loads cheaper than at the retail jewelers.”
Vera frowned at Wes. “Shhhh, don’t tell my secrets.”
Fran glared at Vera with disapproval, then her gaze flicked to Hazel. “I shan’t go there. It’s so common to buy used jewelry.”
“Indeed,” Gloria said. “You don’t need jewelry anyway, do you, Hazel?”
Hazel looked down at her unadorned neck, bare wrists, and ringless ink- stained fingers. “No. I prefer a less cluttered look.”
The conversation turned to the weather, the latest fashions, and last month’s Wimbledon championships. Apparently, since attending them in London, Myrtle had been contemplating installing a tennis court at Lowry House. But Hazel was only half paying attention. She was busy observing and contemplating. She’d noticed no one was acting the least bit surprised that Myrtle hadn’t been shot in the head with an arrow earlier that day, nor had anyone, including Fran, mentioned the incident. Though that in itself didn’t prove anything. Fran could’ve bought their story that it was an accident, or if she was the one who had shot it, she certainly wouldn’t want to bring it up at dinner.
There was another thing that was bothering her, too. Gloria had lied about not leaving the house all day. Hazel had seen her get in the roadster that morning after her fight with Vera. She didn’t know if Gloria had gone to Bergamot Square as Edward had said, but why would she lie about leaving the house? Did it have something to do with whatever was going on between her and Vera? She’d sensed something in Gloria’s demeanor earlier that day when they’d been talking about Vera and Wes. It was almost as if she felt sorry for Wes. Perhaps she felt responsible for having saddled him with Vera. And, since she and Vera had known each other for a long time, maybe she knew something about Vera that the rest of them didn’t. Was that something the fact that Vera was capable of committing murder?
Hazel had only heard overheard bits and pieces of their conversation out the window, but she knew it had been confrontational. There was somewhat of a warning in the words. Something about leaving someone alone and someone getting what they deserved. Did Gloria suspect Vera was the one trying to harm Myrtle? Had she been warning her to leave Myrtle alone? But if she suspected, why wouldn’t she have said something? It was clear that Gloria was trying to help them find the culprit, so if she had suspicions, she would certainly share them… unless, for some reason, they shed a bad light on Gloria herself.
Murder at Lowry House (Hazel Martin Mysteries Book 1) Page 7