Dressed for Death

by Julianna Deering

  “And now I’ve tossed a spanner into the works.”

  Birdsong managed to look only mildly annoyed. “No, the bit about the whitewash is interesting. A sound theory as far as it goes, but then there’s the matter of getting the stuff up to the house or at least up to London. Until we find how that’s done, the rest of it isn’t likely to matter. They’ll just figure another way to bring it over from the Continent.”

  “True,” Drew muttered.

  “Besides,” Nick put in, “it does seem unlikely that any of our fishermen had anything to do with the murders. No opportunity.”

  “Yes, dash it all.” Drew lifted his eyes to the roofline of Winteroak House, just visible above the bluff. “But they’re all tied to this smuggling ring, there’s no doubt of that.”

  “I’ll agree with you there,” Birdsong said. “Get that all sorted, and we’ll have a good idea who our murderer is.”

  “It has to be going through from here somehow.” He looked around the narrow beach and then peered into the trees. “What do you say, Nick? Shall we have a look round?”

  “I’m game,” Nick said.

  “We’ve had men all over this area,” Birdsong said, “and never found a thing. But if it makes you two happy, by all means. If you find anything of interest, just ring me up at my office. I’ll be trying to get whatever information I can out of Rinnie and his mates. If nothing else, with them in custody and all, you two ought to be able to stay out of mischief out here.” He gave them both a stern glance. “Try at least, eh?”

  “Will do, Chief Inspector.” Drew nodded toward The Gull. “You might want to have someone come take that away. I don’t expect she’ll move just now, at least not under her own power.”

  “Right. We’ll see to it.” Birdsong studied the beach and the trees above it, shook his head in disgust, and then made his way back up to the road. He got into the car he’d come in, and after a moment it pulled away, leaving only Drew and Nick standing on the narrow beach.

  “So where do we start?” Nick asked, breaking the silence.

  He looked up at the house, and Drew followed his gaze. There was little more of it visible than the roof and the chimneys and a curl of smoke from the kitchen fire that quickly dissipated in the cloudless sky.

  “It’s got to be somewhere down here,” Drew said. “However they’ve concealed it, it’s got to be here. Why else would those men have been involved? I’ve watched them. They go down to the Channel and then up as far as here, where Claridge Rindle comes out. No farther. What good would they do Laurent if they weren’t a link in his chain?”

  “Decoys?” Nick thought for a moment. “Suppose Laurent is bringing it in himself somehow, and these fellows are there only to draw attention away from him.”

  “No, if that were the case, they were doing it very badly. The police have been watching him since long before they picked up on Cummins.” Drew looked up and down the beach. “I think we’ve got everything but that last elusive half bean that makes it all add up to five.”

  “It’s only a couple of miles over to Lymington. If we get there and haven’t found anything, I say we’d best go back up to the house, collect the girls, and head home to Farthering Place. Leave the rest to the proper authorities.”

  “Fair enough.” Drew exhaled heavily. “You know, these caves ought to be perfect for smuggling, in a protected little cove like this and all, but the police have searched them a hundred times already. I just don’t know what good we’ll do looking into them again.”

  Nick grinned. “But we’ll do it anyhow, eh? Now that we know about the whitewash, maybe we’ll see another sign of it somewhere that will tip us off.” He jogged over to the skiff they had borrowed from Winteroak House and grabbed the torch stored there. “Might need this in the dark there.”

  Drew clapped him on the back. “Good old Nick. Never say die. Well, come on then.”

  Eighteen

  By the time Madeline reached the morning room, Carrie and Mrs. Cummins were laughing and crying over an album of Tal’s school photos. At the back was one of him and Alice together, taken, she said, just three months earlier.

  “Oh, the poor dears, and both of them gone now. Truly, it’s too cruel. Too hard for anyone to bear.”

  “Shall I make us all some coffee?” Madeline asked, careful not to make eye contact with Carrie. “Or maybe get us some of the shortbread Mrs. Ruggles left for us?”

  Mrs. Cummins blotted her eyes and nose. “No, dear, it’s sweet of you, of all of you, but I think I’d do better just to lie down a while. Just till I can get my feet under me, you understand.”

  “Of course,” Madeline said. “I’ll help you upstairs.”

  “No, no. You girls make yourselves comfortable in here. There’s the wireless, if you care to listen, or one of the books might interest you. You know where the playing cards are. I’ll . . . I’ll be all right. Just give me an hour or two to collect myself. I suppose the boys will be back before long to keep you company.”

  “I’m sure they will.” Madeline gave her a comforting hug. “You have a good rest. We’ll be just fine right here.”

  She watched as Mrs. Cummins made her way down the corridor, heard her ascend the stairs, then the sound of her bedroom door opening and closing.

  Madeline shut the morning room door and plunged ahead. “He took it. The vicar. He took the box with the tea in it.”

  “No,” Carrie breathed. “Do you think it was a coincidence? Or do you think he knew what was in there?”

  “I don’t know.” Madeline patted her skirt pocket, making certain the packet was still there. “Oh, Carrie, surely not. He couldn’t be in on this. He and Mr. Cummins both? It would be just too awful.”

  “We’ve got to tell the boys.”

  “As soon as they get back,” Madeline said. “But for now I think we should have another look in the pantry.”

  Carrie’s eyes widened. “What good will that do? The police have looked at everything in there. There’s nothing else to see.”

  “Maybe not. But maybe there is. They didn’t find the bad box of tea. Who knows what else might be in there. Mr. Cummins swears that Tal believed him when he said he didn’t kill Alice, but the note Tal left behind makes it sound as if he found out something that changed his mind. Something that implicated his father, and maybe something that could tell us who killed Billy.”

  “But you don’t know that he saw something in the pantry. It could have been anything anywhere in the whole house or even somewhere else.”

  “That’s where we found the tea. What would it hurt to have another look around, this time without anyone looking over our shoulders?”

  Carrie glanced toward the door and then nodded. “If we’re going to do it, we’d better do it quickly.”

  They scurried through the kitchen and into the pantry. It didn’t look much different from when they were there before. Madeline and Carrie searched bags, boxes and bins, cupboards and drawers, even the larder, but with no result.

  Madeline huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “There has to be something. What could he have seen? More important, where did he get the cocaine he took?” She scanned the pantry once again, then looked at the door that led to the wine cellar. It was a possibility that whatever Tal had discovered was on the other side of it. “I’m going down there.”

  Carrie’s already pale face turned even paler.

  “You stay up here. There’s no need for you to go, too. I’m just going to have a look around, in case there’s something down there everyone’s missed.”

  “We promised we’d stay out of trouble,” Carrie protested.

  “We promised we wouldn’t go out,” Madeline said, “and I don’t plan to. I won’t have a better opportunity. We’re practically alone in the house. Notice I said in the house. I won’t step a foot outside.”

  “And what if someone sees you?”

  “Like who?”

  “I don’t know. Anybody. Mrs. Cummins could wake
up. Mrs. Ruggles could come back.”

  “And she’d never let us in here again.”

  “Oh, I just thought . . .” Carrie glanced around as if she feared she would be overheard. “What if she’s part of it, as well? She’s never wanted anyone around the kitchen or the pantry. What if—”

  Madeline tightened her jaw. “She won’t be back for hours. If she’s part of it, she’ll never know we even suspect.”

  “And you’re determined to do this?”

  Madeline nodded.

  “Then I’m going with you.”

  Madeline blinked. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I don’t know if there’s, well, if they’ve completely cleaned up down there. There will probably still be traces. Of the place where Billy was, I mean.”

  Carrie lifted her chin. “I know. Nick’s been herding me away from there ever since it happened. I want to see it for myself.”

  “Carrie, are you sure—?”

  “I want to go. I know the police have looked at everything down there, but I can’t help thinking they must have missed something. Billy wouldn’t—” her lips trembled, but she refused to cry—“he wasn’t down there for no reason.”

  “I know. If we’re going to have a look, I guess it’s now or never. We probably won’t have the house to ourselves like this ever again.”

  Carrie managed a half smile. “And we sure won’t have another chance without the boys looking over our shoulders.”

  “Okay then.”

  Madeline peered down to where the stone steps vanished into darkness and wished she had that little Webley revolver Drew kept locked in the desk in the study at home. He’d made sure she knew how to handle it safely and that she could fire it with reasonable accuracy and confidence, but she never liked the thought of it. She was always afraid she would freeze if the time came to actually use it, and then what if her opponent turned the weapon on her? Still, it would be good to feel its comforting weight in her hand right now. It would be better to have Drew himself beside her. Well, she wasn’t going to be a big chicken about it now. “Stay together, all right?”

  Carrie drew herself up to her full not-quite five feet. “Right.”

  Madeline reached the bottom of the steps, but then scurried back to the pantry.

  “Hey!” Carrie protested.

  “Just hold on a minute.” Madeline snatched up the flashlight sitting with some other sundries on a pantry shelf and hurried back down to where Carrie stood. “We don’t want to get stuck where a light bulb is burned out or something. Ready?”

  “Ready.” Carrie drew a deep breath and took Madeline’s arm. “Stay together, right?”

  “Right.”

  Madeline turned on the switch at the bottom of the steps, and the wine cellar was bathed in a yellowish light. Until yesterday, the police hadn’t allowed anyone down here, but the cellar looked just as it had before the incident, except there were some empty racks now and barrels missing. There were also a few spots on the stone floor that had been scrubbed more vigorously than others.

  Her face grim, Carrie seemed determined not to look at the floor at all. “What could Billy have been looking for?” she asked for the hundredth time.

  “What could he have found?” Madeline said, shining the flashlight into a dark corner. “Someone killed him over it, so it must have been pretty important. If he—” She drew a quick breath and then laughed. “What are you doing here?”

  The light had caught a greenish sparkle on one of the upper shelves, and both girls went over to it.

  “What’s she doing down here?” Carrie asked, one hand over her heart. “You little rascal, Eddie. You scared the life half out of me.”

  The cat blinked, stretched, and then scratched herself on the side of the neck. The airy jingle of her collar seemed oddly out of place in the hush of the wine cellar.

  “You stay out of trouble, miss,” Madeline warned her, turning the flashlight once again on the bottles and barrels and casks stacked around them. “This doesn’t look right.”

  She pointed the light into the corner just left of the entrance where there was a stack of crates bearing a French wine maker’s trademark.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Carrie asked. “They’re just empty crates. I’m sure the police would have already checked them.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to see for ourselves, now, would it? Help me.”

  Madeline and Carrie dragged the crates toward the center of the room, but no matter what they tapped or pressed or banged, there was nothing behind them but solid stone floor and solid stone wall.

  Madeline sighed. “Okay, I’m sure you’re right and the police already did that. Let’s check the rest of the cellar.”

  Hearing a little prrt and another jingle of bells, Madeline turned to see the shelf where Eddie had been was now empty.

  “She shouldn’t be down here. The little pest will fall asleep and get locked in or something. Come on, Eddie.”

  She and Carrie went around one of the floor-to-ceiling wine racks, but there was no black-and-white cat on the other side.

  “Now where is she?” Carrie listened for a moment and then made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Eddie? Eddie. I know she was over here.”

  Madeline heard the faintest jingle of a bell. “This way, I think.”

  They went farther back into the cellar, Madeline shining the flashlight into every nook and hiding place. No sign of Eddie.

  “I know I heard her.” Carrie stopped and listened again. “Back here.”

  They squeezed between a couple of very large casks and found themselves face-to-face with another stone wall. Unlike the other three walls, this wall was rough, carved from the natural rock surrounding the cellar.

  “Well, she didn’t go this way,” Carrie said.

  “Yes, she did,” Madeline insisted. “Listen.”

  The jingling was fainter than ever, but Madeline could still hear it. She pointed the flashlight toward the sound and drew a startled breath. “Look.”

  At their feet, shadowed by one of the casks, was an opening in the rock, roughly square and just large enough to accommodate the cat. Madeline sank down in the tight space between the cask and the wall, yet she couldn’t get low enough to see inside the opening. Slowly she stuck her hand inside, hoping if the cat did go through here, there wasn’t anything nasty waiting to latch on to her fingers.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh!”

  “What is it?” Carrie asked.

  Bracing herself, Madeline pressed the switch she’d found inside the opening. With no more than a slight vibration, a two-foot-wide section of the lower half of the wall swung back and up, revealing a dimly lit passageway.

  “Amazing,” Madeline said. “The seam is perfectly hidden in the way these false stones are laid out.” She shone the light on it more closely, revealing the join to be covered by a subtle trompe l’oeil paint treatment that even the wariest eye was unlikely to detect, especially in the shadow of the casks in the wine cellar’s low light. “The police have searched in here many times. How could they have missed this hole where the switch is?”

  “We’d better go back now,” Carrie whispered. “You don’t know what’s in there.”

  “We know Eddie’s in there, and we can’t just leave her. Not if someone else is in there, too.” She took a deep breath, calming herself. “I’m going after her. Are you coming?”

  “Madeline—”

  “Just to get Eddie. I don’t hear the bells anymore. Either she’s stopped somewhere or something’s happened to her.”

  Carrie’s face was white in the dimness, her blue eyes enormous as she looked up at Madeline. She nodded. “All right, let’s go. But we have to stay together.”

  “Stay together,” Madeline repeated.

  They ducked into the passageway and found it was actually a tunnel, wide and tall enough for them to walk through single file. It was lit by a string of small low-wattage bulbs strung from a wire, primitive but efficient.

 
“It’s got to lead down to the shore,” Madeline said just loud enough for Carrie to hear. “They had to have been bringing the cocaine up to the house from Monsieur Laurent’s boat through here. We need to find Eddie and get out.”

  Carrie nodded and then held up one finger. Ahead of them was the sound of little bells, and a cold shiver ran down Madeline’s spine. What if there was someone down here?

  Please stay still, Eddie, Madeline pled silently. Just stay where you are for another minute. Oh, God, please make her stay still.

  “She’s just up ahead,” Carrie said. “Hurry.”

  Madeline nodded, trying hard to keep her breathing even and silent, knowing she was failing miserably. Oh, dear Jesus, be with us. We shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be here.

  She quickened her pace around a bend in the tunnel and then choked back a shriek. Someone was huddled there against the rock wall. She clutched her flashlight, ready to use it as a weapon, but there was no need. The man was dead.

  Carrie put a hand over her mouth, looking as if she wanted to scream, too. “Who is it?”

  Madeline knelt at the man’s head, turning his face to the light. She looked at Carrie. They both recognized him.

  Laurent’s valet, Adkins. He had been stabbed in the back.

  “We have to leave,” Madeline whispered. “Now.”

  Again came the sound of bells, moving toward them now. Madeline scrambled to her feet. Thank God, Eddie was coming back. Madeline would grab her, and she and Carrie would run as fast as they could back up the tunnel, out of the cellar and out to the constable posted in front of the house.

  The jingling sounded closer still, coming from around a bend in the tunnel.

  Madeline froze. It was the collar, but no cat.

  “Mrs. Cummins?”

  Margaret Cummins stood in the passageway with Eddie’s belled collar dangling from one finger, a pistol in her other hand. “I really wish you had listened to me, my dear. I did try my best to keep you both out of it.”

  Carrie clutched Madeline’s sleeve, “You wouldn’t—”

  “What have you done?” Madeline asked, trying her best to appear unruffled while her blood raced and leapt in her veins. “What did you do to Mr. Adkins?”