House Party Murder Rap: 1920s Historical Cozy Mystery (An Evie Parker Mystery)

by Sonia Parin

  Tom gestured for her to sit down.

  “Yes, I think I will.”

  He took the seat opposite her.

  “By the way, how did you get here so fast?” Evie asked.

  “I drove.”

  “And no one noticed you drove the car I’d arrived in?”

  He shrugged. “Actually, I acquired a new car.”

  Evie’s eyebrows curved upward, curiosity getting the better of her. She wondered how much effort she would have to employ to get Tom to share more details and expand his vocabulary from his usual monosyllables.

  Although…

  He’d already said far more than he had in the two months he’d been working for her.

  “A roadster,” he explained.

  Evie couldn’t hide her surprise. “How did you manage that?”

  He gave her a small smile. “I made an offer to a local man.”

  Anyone she knew? Evie couldn’t help wondering.

  “Sir Bradford. He’s new to the area. When I arrived at the pub, he’d just settled down for a drink and engaged me in conversation about cars. As it turns out, he has quite a collection. Later, when I heard about the incident at the house, I approached him and… we made a deal.” He shifted in his seat. “I thought it might be best if I came incognito.”

  The fact he had delivered such a lengthy explanation left her stunned. Recovering, Evie realized her chauffeur seemed to possess some interesting skills.

  Her granny had mentioned something about Tom being in the war, but she had been short on details.

  “At this point, ma’am, I would strongly advise against staying in this house.”

  Evie straightened and lifted her chin. “Nonsense. I will not be driven into hiding.”

  Tom pushed out a breath. “If you choose to stay on, I would advise against remaining alone.”

  “But I’m not alone, Tom.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, I doubt your host is trained in such matters.”

  “Which matters?”

  “Security, ma’am.”

  Evie’s eyes widened again. “And you are?”

  He held her gaze for a long moment. Evie had the feeling he might be weighing his words with great care and deciding what could be revealed and what needed to remain hidden.

  Finally, he relented and said, “When your grandmother sought out the services of a chauffeur, she had very particular requirements. They included the ability to look after your safety.”

  Evie gave him a small smile. “Are you by any chance referring to military skills?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, rest assured, His Grace was an officer in the war. He fought in the Battle of the Somme and he survived.”

  Tom looked down and made an attempt to hide his smile.

  “You’re not impressed.”

  “On the contrary, ma’am. However, during the war, it would have been my job to look after officers such as His Grace.”

  To say she felt astonished over the revelation would be putting it mildly. Although, she had suspected Tom had been harboring some sort of secret past.

  “Very well, Tom. What do you propose we do? I won’t scurry away and hide like a scared rabbit.”

  He stood up and strode to the window. It seemed to be everyone’s favorite place to gather their thoughts.

  A few moments later, he declared, “I could be Mr. Winchester, a distant relative or a friend you encountered in London… You might have suggested calling on you here. No one would find that suspicious.”

  No, they wouldn’t because, despite always trying her best to conform and adhere to the strictures of polite society, she couldn’t avoid being true to herself, sometimes indulging in having her way and behaving like an eccentric.

  Miraculously, she had never waltzed into anyone’s drawing room with a trained pet monkey adorning her shoulder. Although, it had been a fantasy of hers since reading all about some ladies doing just that in the previous century when pet menageries had been all the rage.

  Evie tossed the idea around.

  Mr. Winchester. A distant relative.

  Or… A friend, visiting London.

  “We’ll have to let the Duke in on the secret. I think he’ll rather enjoy it.” Evie shifted to the edge of her seat and tapped her chin in thought. “You’re his height and… you’ll need suitable clothes.”

  Tom looked pensive for a moment and then gave her an assuring nod. “I’ve already taken care of it.”

  Evie could barely hide her surprise. “I take it this person you met has been extremely accommodating.” He looked puzzled, so she added, “Sir Bradford.”

  “Oh, him… Yes. He served during the war so we struck up an instant camaraderie.”

  “All right.” Evie sat up. “How do we go about this exactly? Do we need to work on a story, something that will be credible to the others?”

  “I suggest we try to stick as close as possible to the truth,” he said.

  And what would that be? Evie wondered, now more than ever feeling as though she knew next to nothing about Tom Winchester.

  “If we are to be acquaintances, you could say your grandmother introduced us,” he suggested. “Or perhaps… We could be childhood friends.”

  “How exactly would that work?” He looked to be at least three… maybe five years older… Yes, somewhere in his mid-thirties.

  “It pays to be vague,” he said. “We avoid specific dates and talk about instances that bring up relatable images. For instances, if anyone asks how old we’d been when we first met, I could pretend I’m giving it some thought and finally say, I remember teaching you to skate or swim.”

  “Really? Well… yes, I suppose that could work. Fine. We are longtime friends.” Evie agreed with a nod and turned her thoughts to practicalities. “Larkin will need to be informed about the extra guest at the table. First, I will bring His Grace up to speed.” Evie sat back and nibbled on the tip of her thumb.

  She wished Bicky could come down for a moment.

  Looking toward the library door, she wondered if Larkin had seen fit to hover nearby. If not, she could try to sneak Tom upstairs.

  Reaching a decision, Evie gave a firm nod. “At my signal, follow me.” She strode to the library door and eased it open a fraction. Peering out, she made sure the coast was clear. Seeing no one about, she signaled to Tom and they both hurried up the stairs.

  “Actually, ma’am… It would be best if we simply pretend we’re going about our business. If anyone sees us hurrying, they might suspect us of being up to no good.”

  True.

  Evie murmured, “This is highly unusual, to say the least. But exhilarating.”

  They strode along the corridor at a more sedate pace. Evie prayed Bicky had been left alone to rest. She eased the door to his room open and whispered, “Bicky. It’s me. I’ve brought someone with me.”

  It took some explaining but Bicky eventually came on board with the plan, agreeing with the idea of Tom joining the house party.

  Tom said, “We’ll need to hash out the details, Your Grace.”

  Bicky seemed to experience a momentary loss of attention, which he recovered by saying, “You are employed as the Countess’s chauffeur and bodyguard.”

  Tom nodded.

  When Bicky looked at Evie, she simply shrugged. “It’s news to me too. Well, the latter part, at least.” All along, she’d had a bodyguard. Had he followed her at a discreet distance when she’d stepped out for a stroll in the nearby parks?

  “Do you believe there will be another attempt?” Bicky asked.

  Tom set his mouth into a firm line. “I had a wander around the estate. No one stopped me. In fact, I didn’t see anyone about. If someone is determined to get results, there is nothing to impede them.”

  “All right. I suppose I should ring for Larkin and let him know there will be an extra guest for dinner… In fact, for the weekend. He shall have to prepare a room. Now, more than ever, I will insist on attending dinner.” As
Bicky rang the bell, he murmured, “What an extraordinary turn of events.”

  Chapter Eight

  Is there a Mrs. Winchester?

  Evie’s bedchamber…

  As Caro arranged her hair, trying her best to tame the mop of curls, Evie noticed her frowning. “Is something wrong, Caro?”

  Her maid gave a small shake of her head only to then nod. “I might be wrong, but earlier, as I was coming along the corridor and making my way to your room, I thought I saw Tom down the opposite end… coming out of His Grace’s room.” She shook her head again. “I must have imagined it.” Stepping back, Caro inspected her work.

  The Devil is in the detail, Evie thought…

  Tom had suggested they needed to prepare for the unexpected. He’d also recommended being as vague as possible. However, in this instance, Evie didn’t think she would be able to get away with anything but the truth.

  She knew she could trust Caro to be discreet. But would her maid understand and… play along?

  Lines of distinction existed because they made everyone’s life that much easier. Without boundaries and the accompanying rules, no one would know how to behave.

  Rolling her eyes heavenward, she wondered if she had just heard echoes of her granny in her mind. To be fair to her grandmother, she had made several new adjustments to better fit into the new century. Overall, however, her heart remained true to the previous era.

  If they were to make a success of this charade, she supposed Caro would need to be in on the secret too.

  Evie cleared her throat. “Well, as a matter of fact…” Scooping in a breath, Evie gave Caro an abbreviated version of the events which had taken place since… Well, since she’d set off from America.

  When she finished relating her story, Evie urged, “Caro, you’ll need to blink and breathe.”

  “Oh… Oh, my. I’m speechless. I mean, everyone downstairs has been buzzing with the news about the shooting but now you say Tom has taken command of the situation because your grandmother secretly hired him as your personal bodyguard.”

  “That’s about the gist of it,” Evie agreed and stood up to inspect her reflection in the mirror, smiling as she cast an appreciative glance over her silk and satin evening gown.

  She had abandoned her favorite shade of pale green for a rich shade of dazzling bronze with black beading and black embroidery. Admiring the column of sheer elegance, Evie turned and looked over her shoulder to study the effect of the low-cut V shape.

  Having one’s back to someone in a crowded room was never an excuse to skimp and the designer had done a splendid job, highlighting the edges with an intricate diamond shaped pattern made from black beads sewn into the satin trim.

  Resuming her seat at the dressing table, she watched Caro select a necklace. She held it against Evie’s neck so Evie could decide if she liked it or not.

  “Yes, that will do.” When the long strand of black pearls fell into place, Evie tilted her head and watched Caro pin a diamante dragonfly brooch. Deciding she already had enough adornments, she selected a small black feather for her hair attached to a narrow headband.

  With a gentle dab of perfume on her wrists, Evie rose to her feet and turned her attention to slipping her long gloves on.

  When she heard a light knock at her door, Evie said, “That’ll be him.”

  “Him? You mean, Tom. Here… in your room?”

  Evie tried to play down the situation which, under any other circumstance, would have been deemed scandalous. “We needed to rendezvous for a…” She tried to recall the term Tom had used. “Oh, yes. A briefing session. He will be joining us for dinner and, as you can imagine, there are certain expectations. Rules to adhere to. If he is to remain incognito, Tom will need to play the role of gentleman to the hilt. He cannot put a foot wrong.”

  Caro blinked rapidly.

  “You should open the door now and let him in before someone catches him hovering outside my room.”

  “Yes, milady.” Caro hurried to the door and, grabbing hold of Tom’s arm, pulled him inside only to then step back, her eyes wide, her expression beyond surprised.

  “Well,” Evie exclaimed. “You certainly clean up nicely.”

  Dressed in formal evening wear consisting of a black fitted jacket with long ‘swallow’ tails in the back, a white vest, trousers with silk stripes on the sides and a white bow tie, Tom Winchester had transformed himself from the country squire look she’d seen earlier to the picture-perfect image of a titled gentleman. A Sir, a Lord… A Viscount. Even the title of a Duke would suit him just fine, Evie thought.

  “I take it I pass muster, ma’am.”

  Evie swallowed. “Yes, you most certainly do.” It took some doing to tear her intrigued attention away from him. “Right… Well. Let’s see.” Evie drew in a long breath. “For starters, you mustn’t call me ma’am.”

  His eyebrow lifted slightly.

  Yes, she knew it would be a miracle if he managed to get through five minutes before reverting to old habits. After all, it had taken Evie more than two months to break him of the habit of calling her Lady Woodridge.

  “Remind me again, are we to be related or did we decide on a long-standing friendship?” she asked, suddenly wondering which would be safest.

  “Friends, I think,” he said. “I know many of your family members, but I might be caught out. As friends, I can lay claim to knowing some of your immediate family. Your mother and grandmother as well as your brother.”

  “Yes, that makes sense,” Evie agreed. “So… you must call me…”

  “Evangeline.”

  Evie shook her head. “No, certainly not. My mother always calls me that when I’ve landed myself in trouble.”

  The edge of his lip quirked up. “Evie.”

  “Try not to sound so surprised.”

  He tried it again. To his credit, it only took a dozen tries for Evie to claim satisfaction when, in fact, she had simply enjoyed hearing her name on his lips.

  “You have the Duke’s permission to address him as ‘Bicky’. That will simplify matters.” Being on such an uneven social scale, it would have been an unforgivable breech of protocol, but Bicky had always been a good sport.

  Caro raised both eyebrows. “On intimate terms with His Grace… the Duke of Hetherington?”

  “Yes, Caro.” Evie pointed to the ceiling. “See, it hasn’t collapsed on us and I’m sure the earth is still spinning.” Turning back to Tom, she continued, “There are several house guests attending tonight’s dinner.”

  He nodded. “Bicky already ran through them with me.”

  Of course, he had. How remiss of her, Evie thought, her mental tone mocking. “So, if I say Charlotte, you’ll know I mean…”

  “Lady Chambers, married to Lord Chambers. Matthew to his friends.”

  Evie prompted, “And you will address him as…”

  “The first time, I will address him as Lord Chambers. From therein, it will be my lord or, if he gives me leave, Chambers.”

  By the end of the evening, Evie suspected Tom would be invited to refer to him as Matthew. No doubt about it.

  Feeling an impish need to trip him up, Evie shot out, “Gloriana.”

  “You mean, Lady Gloriana, the Duke’s… or rather, Bicky’s cousin. She is married to the younger son of the Earl of Aspendale.” Tom’s eyes filled with mirth. “Do you think she will inherit the Dowager Duchess’s pearls?”

  Well, well. Bicky had been thorough.

  “Yes, I can see you’ll do very well. But if you happen to get tangled up, fall back on my lady or my lord.”

  Tom smiled. “Unless I happen to be talking with Mr. Mark Harper, heir to his cousin, the Earl of Chatterlain. In which case, I’ll refer to him as Harper.” He shrugged. “Or Mark.”

  Feeling almost superfluous, Evie clasped her hands and twiddled her thumbs. “Now, we must find you a suitable profession.”

  Tom nodded. “That has been taken care of.”

  “It has?”

 
He nodded again. “I did well enough in the oil fields to never have to work another day in my life.”

  Evie wavered for a moment. He had sounded so convincing, she had no trouble believing him. “Tell me more.” She knew the others were bound to ask questions. After all, most of them… well, all of them had inherited their money. The concept of actually making it by striking it lucky would be beyond their comprehension.

  Evie tapped her chin and revised her opinion as she remembered there had been some lucky titled landowners who’d struck it lucky with coal…

  Slipping a hand into his pocket he said, “Back in 1914, I started out as a wildcatter in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Soon after, I purchased my first drilling rights.” He gave her a winning smile. “The rest is far too… oily to go into. Needless to say, I struck oil.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I should add, your brother has been instrumental in assisting me with my investments.”

  “He has?” For a moment, Evie forgot they were creating a credible story to tell the others. Frowning, she ran through every possible situation he might encounter in the drawing room. “Oh, remind me again why you’re on such familiar terms with Bicky.”

  “The war. We met briefly at the Battle of the Somme. The arduous experience has created many long-lasting friendships.”

  “Yet, he never mentioned you,” Evie said testily.

  “I think you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who willingly brings up the subject of the war and, if they do, the references will be very vague. We all prefer to put those dark years behind us.”

  Evie felt a shiver run up and down her spine.

  To her surprise, he added, “After serving under British command, I then joined the American Expeditionary Forces staying with them until the end of the war.”

  “Fine. Now… Table manners.”

  He grinned. “Luckily, I have been feeding myself for as long as I can remember.” She must have looked uncertain because Tom went on to add, “I promise I will keep my elbows off the table and refrain from talking with my mouth full.”