Rules of Murder

by Julianna Deering

  “All the way from Canada? That’s a bit far to go just to look for work.”

  “No doubt,” Rushford agreed, “but he said he wanted to repay me for what I had done for his father.” The older man looked a little embarrassed. “I had spoken for him to the court, as there was no eyewitness to the crime and the evidence was no more than circumstantial. Min’s been with me only a short while now, and I can’t think how I ever managed before he came.”

  “It’s like that with Denny. I can’t imagine Farthering Place without him.”

  Rushford’s face clouded. “Have the police learned anything more about the . . . the unpleasantness out there?”

  “I suppose they’re working on it. There seems to be rather little to go on.”

  “I couldn’t be certain, but I was almost sure I had seen that photograph the police found in Lincoln’s things, the one of the girl. I wish I could remember where.” Rushford smiled. “Well, never mind. It’ll come to me in time.”

  “I hope so, sir.”

  The old man sat gnawing his lip, staring silently at the crackling hearth. Drew spent the time enjoying an excellent lemon tart and wondering why Rushford had sent for him. Eventually the last crumb of the tart was gone, and Drew cleared his throat. “Sir, I—”

  “I suppose I ought to get on with what I have to say.”

  “When you’re ready, sir.”

  Rushford took a deep breath and then let it out, making a sound as old and weary as the lines on his face. “I have to tell you something that doesn’t make me proud.” He looked around as if expecting to find someone eavesdropping on him in his own home. “Your mother was not the only one Lincoln had on the hook.”

  Drew leaned forward in his chair. “I rather thought as much. Had he gotten ahold of you, too?”

  Rushford slumped over, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s been a nightmare,” he moaned. “It wasn’t the cash so much as everything else, and he didn’t ask all that much money really. He wanted me to sponsor him at my club and introduce him to people of importance and guarantee his debts. I couldn’t refuse him. The scandal would have ruined me.”

  “What was he blackmailing you for?”

  “I . . . heavens, I hate to say it, but it seemed such a little thing at first.”

  Drew waited, not speaking.

  “I took some money from the company. I had heard of a sure thing in some investments, and as I was going through a rough patch in the old bank account just then, I thought it couldn’t hurt anything to simply borrow it. But the investments went bad, not really a surprise given the way the economy’s been, and then lost more trying to make it up. I finally did make it up, mind you, and it was deuced hard too, but that was after Lincoln had found out about it. I couldn’t have him tell Parker about it. I couldn’t.”

  “How much was it?”

  The old man’s face was colored with shame. “Nearly eighty thousand pounds.”

  Drew almost choked on his tea. “Eighty thousand? Well, theft is no small matter in any amount, but eighty thousand? Still, it’s hardly worth a bullet to the brain, is it?”

  “I don’t know what possessed me. I’ve never had a blot on my record.”

  “Perhaps you should just have come to my stepfather and fessed up. No doubt he’d have made it good, at least loaned you the money until you could repay it. Better than letting anyone blackmail you over it.”

  “Perhaps I should have, but I hated to trouble him. No one has all that much to spare these days. But he’s the sort of chap who would be understanding that way, isn’t he?”

  Rushford looked so utterly miserable, Drew couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. “Have you told the police?”

  Rushford wrung his hands. “That’s just it. I’m afraid the police will find this out and think I had something to do with Lincoln’s death.”

  “And if they find it themselves, it’ll look worse, is that it?”

  “Exactly so.”

  “I can see why you wouldn’t want anyone at Farthering to overhear us, but what can I do for you?”

  “I thought perhaps with you and that young constable being friends and all, you might speak to him about it, not naming names, mind you, and see what he thinks the police might say about such a situation. Then perhaps . . .” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, no. It sounds so childish now I say it aloud. Like asking one of the senior boys to speak to the headmaster about a prank one’s done oneself, fearing the consequences.”

  “I shouldn’t worry too much about it,” Drew said. “You ought to ring up Inspector Birdsong and tell him just what you’ve told me. If the money’s long ago been paid back and there’s nothing else suspicious in the books . . .”

  “Nothing I know of, no.”

  Drew took the inspector’s card from his trouser pocket and slid it across the table. “Ring him up. It’s the best thing.”

  Rushford hesitated and then took the card and slipped it into the pocket in his waistcoat. Drew took a swallow of tea, waiting for him to say something more, but the old man merely grabbed a piece of almond shortbread and began nibbling it round the edges.

  “Anything else the police ought to know?” Drew asked finally.

  Rushford sighed. “I can’t think what. I’ve been over it all a hundred times, and I can’t think of anything else that might be of help to them. Not that this will make anything about the murders any clearer, but at least they’ll know about it.”

  “Best be aboveboard and all,” Drew said. “And try not to worry.”

  “What an ugly world it’s become.” Rushford abandoned the ravaged biscuit and sipped his tea. Then he sighed. “Already gone cold.”

  “I understand you came here from Canada,” Drew said as he followed the chauffeur down the front steps to the waiting limousine.

  Min nodded in assent, not slowing his short, shuffling steps.

  “Were you born there?” Drew asked.

  Min turned to face him as he held open the car door. “Your servant was born in Peking,” he said, keeping his eyes focused at some point beyond Drew’s left shoulder. “Revered sir will care to enter, please?”

  Drew considered for a moment, and then he moved around Min and opened the passenger door in the front of the car. “I believe I’ll ride up here this time.”

  Now Min actually looked at him, his eyes bulging.

  “No, please. Gentleman ride in back, please. Not proper to ride in front with unworthy driver.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Grinning, Drew hopped into the front seat and shut the door after himself. Min stood there for a moment more, still holding the back door. Then, muttering something in Chinese, he shut the door, walked around the back of the car and got into the driver’s seat. An instant later, the engine purred to life and they were headed down the drive.

  “This is much cozier, wouldn’t you say?” Drew asked.

  “If it pleases you, sir,” Min said, but it was obvious he remained unconvinced.

  Drew shifted in his seat, trying to keep his knees from bashing against the glove compartment. It was certainly more comfortable in the back, but not nearly as enlightening.

  “I’ve never been to Canada,” Drew said. “It’s rather a long way, isn’t it? Expensive trip as well, I daresay.”

  Min said nothing.

  “You must have saved for some while before you came.”

  “I save many month to travel to New York City, then work on ship laundry to pay passage to Liverpool.”

  “My, my. Was she a large ship?”

  “Very large, sir. Called Britannic. She have just made voyage from England and now was returning home.”

  “And all that just to work for Mr. Rushford.”

  “Mr. Rushford very good to Min’s family.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Drew watched the other man’s face as he drove through the countryside. “I understand he was of some help to your family about that unpleasantness back in Edmonton.”


  Min’s eyes did not leave the road. “He speak to judge so they not hang Father. He give Mother one hundred dollar Canadian to help after Father taken away. Mr. Rushford do more than Min was able to repay then.”

  “You couldn’t have been more than a boy.”

  “Ten year old. Old enough to remember. Old enough to repay someday.”

  “It must have been difficult for you and your family. I understand it was your cousin who was killed.”

  “That is so.”

  “Do you remember her much?”

  Min slowed to maneuver the car around a sharp bend in the road. “She was called Lan Jing. You would say Perfect Orchid.”

  Drew smiled at him. “That’s rather lovely, isn’t it?”

  The other man still did not spare him a glance, but when he finally spoke, his voice was not as impersonal as it had been. “She came with us from China. Was as daughter to my mother and father, as gentle sister to me. But, for some, it is as nothing to crush a harmless sparrow.”

  Drew could see the driver’s hands were tight on the steering wheel, and his lips were pressed into a hard line. Perhaps a change of subject would be wise here, but he couldn’t help feeling for the ill-fated little Perfect Orchid.

  “Did your father have any idea who might have killed her?”

  “No.” Min’s voice was hard again. “He say only it was someone who did not break in.”

  Nick had been very uncooperative when Madeline asked where Drew had gone. She hadn’t forgiven either of them for not taking her to Chelsea with them. Now it was well into the afternoon, and she still hadn’t seen Drew. Impatient, she rang for Anna.

  “Do you know when Mr. Drew is supposed to be home?”

  “I believe he’s in his room, miss.”

  Madeline thanked the girl and went down the hall and into the west wing. She found the door to Drew’s bedroom standing open and him sitting cross-legged on the floor, the towel on his lap full of sleeping kittens. He looked up, and a smile lit his face. “Hullo.”

  She forced herself not to smile back. “I should be very angry at you, leaving me behind this morning.”

  “Now, darling, don’t be cross. Come see.”

  She went over to him, unable to keep from cooing over the babies. “The little angels. And where’s Minerva?”

  “Anna took her down to the kitchen for a treat. In the meantime, Denny has cleared the cupboard of the trousers she was nesting in. He’s just now arranging a much more suitable blanket of some sort for her to sleep on.”

  “That’s nice of him.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not altogether certain he’s forgiven her for her choice of a place to bring her progeny into the world, but I told him if he was to retrieve the trousers, he’d have to arrange a suitable replacement himself.” Drew patted a spot beside him on the lush Turkish carpet. “Pardon me for not getting up, but I’d love for you to join me.”

  She stood there a few seconds longer, smiling after all. As flawless as he had looked the night of the party before the rain had ruined his eveningwear, she thought him even more so now. Lounging there before the huge open windows in a white shirt and wheat-colored slacks, the soft breeze teasing the dark locks of his hair, and the lazy summer sunlight spilling over him and his tiny charges, he was irresistible. She had to make this moment of perfection last. It would be gone too soon as it was.

  “What is it?” he asked finally, and the addition of a puzzled smile to his handsome lips made him all the more appealing.

  “Nothing.” She tucked her skirts under her and sat on the floor beside him. “Just that you look cute.”

  “Cute again, is it? Hmm. I suppose that’s better than ghastly.”

  “It certainly is. How are the children?”

  “Doing very nicely, Mummy. All as fat as ripe little plums.”

  “And napping in Daddy’s lap, not a care in the world.”

  She laughed, and his eyes met hers. “I’ve already grown terribly fond of you.” He’d said it before, there in the garden on that terrible night Lincoln was killed. It was written still on his face. She felt a warm flush creep to her cheeks, knowing his expression was a mirror of her own.

  “I wanted to let you know . . .”

  Her voice sounded unsteady, even to herself. How could she say what she didn’t ever want to say?

  His smile had faded, replaced with that pensive uncertainty from the day of the funeral. “What is it?”

  “I’ve been talking to Carrie and Muriel,” she said, and she knew he could hear the reluctance in her voice.

  “I suppose you’re all going.” His lips were pressed in a firm line now. There was nothing soft and laughing about them anymore.

  “We’ve had our reservations for weeks and weeks now.”

  “I thought you were going to help us solve the case.”

  “If it were just me, I would stay until things were figured out, but Carrie and Muriel have wanted to tour Europe for a long time. They only came down here to Hampshire for a few days to please me.”

  “Of course, that’s to be understood. You’ll be wanting to see London and Paris and all, not just some stodgy little village where nothing happens.”

  Much more had happened here at Farthering Place than she would have expected even from London or Paris, but those events had been tragic and harrowing, not at all the pleasant vacation they had planned. And there was much more that she hadn’t anticipated.

  “I hate to leave.” Her blush deepened. “Leave Uncle Mason, I mean.”

  “He’ll understand. He’s that way, you know. Never expects anyone to bother about him.”

  “Please don’t.” Tears burned behind her eyes. Did it have to be tears? This was awkward enough.

  “Don’t what?”

  She couldn’t tell if his carefully controlled expression covered anger or hurt or indifference. No, it wouldn’t be indifference. Indifference never made an effort to strike back.

  “Uncle Mason—”

  “I’ll look after him. Truly, he’d be the first to tell you to go on your holiday. There’s nothing you can do here anyway, especially if you don’t care to stay.” He smiled a little once more, and the hardness had gone out of his expression. “Truly.”

  “It’s not that I don’t care to stay,” she told him, and he looked down at the sleeping mound of kittens in his lap.

  “They’ll miss their mum.” He put his hand over hers. “As will I.”

  With a little sob, she pressed her face against his shoulder.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered, slipping his arm around her waist. “Don’t go.”

  “But—”

  “Your uncle needs you,” he breathed against her hair. “Darling, I need you.”

  He kissed away the tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye. Then he touched his lips to hers, and she could taste the faint saltiness on them.

  “You can’t go,” he told her, and she pushed away from him.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” Never mind that she had wanted him to. “You know it doesn’t mean a thing.”

  There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “I don’t know that, actually.”

  “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, Drew. It’s been fun, but we both know it’s nothing more than a little holiday fling. I have to go back. If I don’t go now, if I stay until the police have everything figured out, I’ll still have to go back before long. You’ll pick up with someone else, and—”

  “No.” His gray eyes were stormy now. “Do you think I’m this way with every girl I meet? I know it’s utter madness. I know it’s far too soon. But I also know I can’t bear the idea of you walking away when you haven’t given me a chance to prove I’m serious.”

  “Maybe I’m the one who’s not serious.”

  That hurt him, she could see it, but he only nodded. “Fair enough. I won’t presume to say that you don’t know your own mind. But be honest with yourself. If you won’t be honest with me, be honest with yourself. Are you su
re there isn’t something? Something real?”

  She bit her lip and looked away from him. “I won’t say I don’t have feelings.”

  “Feelings?”

  She dropped her head. “For you. About you. But we’d both be foolish to make any permanent decisions based on something as fleeting as feelings, don’t you think? After just a few days?”

  He touched one finger to the underside of her chin, turning her face up to him. “And what if they aren’t fleeting?”

  She shook her head, unable to say anything.

  “I’m not asking you to make any promises, Madeline. I just don’t want you to go. Unless you’re already sure there’s no future for us.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m not sure of that, either.”

  “Then, please, stay awhile at least. Truly your uncle does need you. He’s bound to have it rough these next few days. You’re all he’s got left. Stay and have a bit of fun with me. If that’s all it ends up being, at least you’ll know.”

  “Oh, Drew.”

  “You can’t go,” he told her again. “Not until you’re sure. You can’t go.”

  She shook her head, clinging to him. “I can’t go. Oh, Drew, I can’t go.”

  “Not yet, darling. Not yet.”

  She didn’t like to make promises, not so soon, but it did feel right, so very right, to be with him, to tease and romp with him, to find comfort in the shelter of his arms and taste the warmth of his lips. They were on hers again, and she closed her eyes, drinking in the sweetness of it all.

  A moment later, he flinched and then chuckled. She opened her eyes to see Minerva standing with her front paws on his leg, inspecting her kittens and looking annoyed to find that they had been tampered with. She nudged one with her nose, and an instant later all five were awake, protesting their late dinner with a cacophony of piercing cries. Minerva picked up the little white one by the scruff of the neck, meaning to carry it off, but Drew quickly took it back from her.

  “Hold on, old girl. Hold on. Denny? I say, Denny?”