Rules of Murder

by Julianna Deering

  Madeline returned his smile. “Hello.”

  “Jonas Whiteside, the architect?” Drew asked, and then he shook his head. “Of course! You don’t know me, sir, but I believe you’ve done some work here and in Canada for our company, Farlinford Processing, haven’t you?”

  “Why, yes, I have. Drew Farthering, did you say? You must be Mason Parker’s stepson.”

  “That’s right.” Drew shook his hand. “And Miss Parker here is his niece.”

  “Well, I’m awful pleased to meet you both.” Whiteside gestured to the table. “Why don’t you join us?”

  “Oh, no, no,” Drew said. “We wouldn’t think of disturbing you. You ought to call up at Farthering Place if you’re ever at loose ends, though. I’m sure my stepfather would very much like to see you again.”

  “That’d be real nice. I knew he had an estate somewhere around here, but I didn’t realize we’d landed right on it.”

  “Just up the road,” Drew assured him.

  “Perhaps I will come for a visit sometime. I was going to send flowers, anyway. After I heard about your loss.”

  “Very kind of you, sir. Thank you.”

  “Are you sure you won’t join us?”

  “Actually, we must be off. I promised Miss Parker I’d take her to look at our church and let her nose about some of the shops before they shut for the day.”

  “Well, if you ever want to talk to somebody from home, ma’am, you let me know.” Whiteside winked at her. “Maybe we can find us a real iced soda pop somewhere around here.”

  “That would be nice,” Madeline said. “Of course, if you come up to Farthering Place, perhaps I’ll see you then.”

  After Drew made another apology to the ladies and they both made their farewells, he and Madeline went back to their own table. He reached up and jiggled the bell over the door, and Kitty hurried out of the kitchen.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She dipped her chin so she could look up at him in that knowing way some girls had. “Something else?”

  “Just the bill, if you would, please, Kitty.”

  She scribbled a few numbers on her pad and then tore the page off and gave it to Drew with a sly grin. He handed her some coins and told her to keep the change. Then, with a tip of his hat to Mr. Whiteside and the ladies, he escorted Madeline out into the high street.

  “How odd that it would be the Mr. Whiteside who designed our new plants,” he said as they walked toward the church. “I’m surprised Mrs. Beecham didn’t know that beforehand, as well.”

  “Maybe she does by now. It’s been at least half an hour since we spoke to her.”

  He shook his finger at her. “Cheeky.”

  She giggled at his mock sternness. “Does everyone here know everything about everybody?”

  “Almost without fail, darling, so you’d ought to be on your best behavior. Good thing we’re on our way to church. In fact, I’m sure it will do wonders for your reputation to be seen going. Evidently, it doesn’t matter why you’re going so long as you are seen.”

  “Do you think everyone’s a hypocrite?”

  “Of course not. But there seems to be a great many of them in the church.”

  “There are a great many of them everywhere, in case you haven’t noticed. Maybe church is the best place for them, anyway.” She smiled up at him in that pert, challenging way she had. “It’s not the healthy people who need the hospital, you know.”

  They walked across the road and down to Holy Trinity. Headstones, as weathered and mossed over as the ancient oaks that shaded them, were scattered through the churchyard, and Madeline went along reading the names and dates, admiring a weeping marble angel here and a slumbering cherub there, musing over the lives of children who had died young and men and women who had lived long. They steered clear of the newest grave.

  “How old these headstones are,” she murmured. “And how many there are too for such a small place.”

  “We’ve had rather a long while to collect them,” Drew reminded her. “Shall we go in?”

  They went up the walk and to the massive wooden door at the front of the church. He opened it for her and, removing his hat, followed her inside.

  “There’s not all that much to it, I’m afraid. And you’ve been here once already.”

  “But that was different. I didn’t get a chance to really look at things then.”

  It was no more than a small parish church, one that might be found in any village in Hampshire, or indeed in all of England, but she seemed fascinated by its every detail. She opened the door to one of the old pew boxes and sat down.

  “What must they have felt all that time ago when this was first built and they began to worship here? When they first looked up and saw the light through that window?”

  He followed her gaze up to the arched window above the altar, its richly colored panes depicting Christ in glory, His arms outstretched, His eyes merciful, His pierced hands beckoning. The late-afternoon sun shone through, illuminating the glass like a page from a medieval Bible. Drew had never noticed such richness in it before, but he didn’t allow any of the wonder in Madeline’s expression to be reflected in his own. No need getting silly over a woman’s fancies.

  Her eyes shone as she looked up at it. “I’ve been wanting to have another look at that since the funeral.”

  “I’m afraid that stained glass came a good four or five hundred years after the church, darling.”

  “It’s still wonderful.”

  He came and sat down beside her in the pew. “If you like this, I’ll take you up to Winchester one day and show you the cathedral. I daresay one could fit a dozen or more of our little Holy Trinity inside it.”

  She took his arm and hugged herself against him. “Oh yes, please. I’m sure it’s glorious. But, in its way, I think it would still be the same as it is here. It’s as if the fragrance of the prayers of all those hundreds of years still lingers here in these stones and in these pews, saying God still bends down to hear and answer.”

  “I suppose it all must have been easier to believe back in those days.” He shrugged and helped her to her feet and out of the pew. “Now modern science explains everything away and, in time, one wonders what it’s all for.”

  “How very sad,” she said as they walked up to the altar, toward the pulpit inscribed with the words “Woe unto me if I preach not the gospel.”

  He smiled. She was pitying him now. “Not so sad as that. I believe in God and all. I just . . . I suppose I just don’t think of it much.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s not that I don’t think He’s out there. Somewhere. I just don’t know if He’s really all that interested in what each of us is doing. I mean, I’d say He’s rather too busy to worry about if I’ve gone to a service and sung hymn 196 and given to the collection and all. No doubt He’d like us to be good to one another, help the poor, not run off with another man’s wife or murder her or any of that sort of thing, and if we’ve done a kindness here and there, that’s all for the better.”

  “So just do a little more good than bad, is that it?”

  “No, not exactly. I just think if God is a God of love and mercy as they say, He’ll know I mean well and see I’m taken care of.”

  “But you don’t want to actually ask for His love and mercy. Or thank Him for it.”

  “It’s not that. I just, well, He’s got better things to see to, hasn’t He? I’d think it rather cheeky of me to be wasting His time day in and day out.”

  “Or is it that you don’t want Him wasting your time?”

  He laughed, and her face turned scarlet.

  “You don’t much mince words, do you, Madeline?”

  She looked down. “Sometimes I forget we’ve really only just met.”

  “I’m glad you forget. I like that you speak your mind to me, but I won’t suddenly become religious just to please someone else.” He squeezed her hand. “Not even you, darling.”

  She looked relieved, not angry as he had feared.r />
  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She tilted her head back and smiled up at him again, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to be religious at all.”

  She laughed and tried to pull away from him, but he pulled her closer instead.

  “Just what are you?” he asked, cupping her face in his hands. “And why have you come here only to drive me mad?”

  “I came here, Mr. Farthering, to visit my uncle and see your beautiful country.” She wrinkled her nose at him and pulled away. “Driving you mad is just a little bonus.”

  “I see.” He wagged one finger at her. “That’s very naughty of you. And you’ll be sorry, too.”

  She slipped her arm through his and started them walking again. “And why is that?”

  “If I’m mad, I’ll have to be looked after for the rest of my life. And since you’d be the one responsible for my condition, it only follows you’d feel obliged to do the looking after. Assuaging the crushing guilt and all, you know.”

  “If anyone should feel guilty, it’s you.”

  “I? Madam, I protest.”

  “Yes. For keeping all this to yourself this whole time.”

  “That was bad of me, wasn’t it?” He dropped to one knee before her. “I make a present of it to you. All of it.”

  “Get up, silly.”

  “All right,” he said, complying, “but don’t say I didn’t try to make it up to you. And don’t expect the same offer when we go up to see Winchester Cathedral.”

  “When will we?”

  “Oh, once all this mess with Lincoln has been cleared up. I don’t know. Right now I feel as lost and confused as a striped tie on a plaid shirt.”

  “I don’t think your Mr. Dennison would approve.”

  “Oh, definitely not. He looks askance at me if I decide to wear charcoal socks rather than black, and heaven help me if I break away entirely and choose argyle.”

  She giggled. “You always look very nice.”

  “You must thank Denny for that. He says anything less reflects badly on him.”

  “I’ll put that on my list.”

  “Your list?”

  “Of things to thank Mr. Dennison for.”

  “Have you a list?”

  “Sure I do. He’s made sure that you dress stylishly without being a dandy. You told me he practically raised you after your father passed away, so he must have had something to do with you being not nearly the snob someone with your looks and money usually is.”

  “Not nearly?”

  She grinned and smoothed his tie, blushing a little as she did. It was very becoming.

  “I think your Mr. Dennison has more of a sense of humor than he lets himself show.”

  “Who? Denny? The man’s a mausoleum.”

  “He’s not fooling anyone. I’ve seen you and Nick with him.”

  “All right, I’ll confess. I did see him smile once. It was the twelfth of August, 1909. I remember it quite clearly.”

  She laughed. “You’re such a liar. And here in the church, too.”

  “What?”

  “In 1909? Were you even born then?”

  “I was a year old, thank you, and quite mature for my age.”

  “Pity it didn’t last.”

  “Now, that’s no attitude to take.”

  She took his arm again. “Come on. You promised to let me do some shopping before it’s too late.”

  “And here I thought you were going to explain everything to me before we left the church.”

  “Why should I tell you what you already know?” She took a book from one of the pews, the Shorter Catechism. “‘What is the chief end of man?’”

  He laughed. “All right, perhaps I do remember that one.”

  “Well?”

  He cleared his throat and stood very straight, reciting, “‘Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever.’”

  “There. You see? And it isn’t even my church. Don’t make it more difficult than it is.” She returned the book to its place. “Come on.”

  “Madness,” he muttered as he followed her into the street. “Absolute madness.”

  Twelve

  It was nearly five o’clock when they got back to Farthering Place.

  “Mrs. Devon has been waiting tea for you, sir,” Dennison said as they came in through the kitchen.

  “Tell her that’s all right. I took Miss Parker to tea at The Rose Garden.”

  “Very good, sir. And Mr. Parker said he would like to have a word with you the moment you came in.”

  “In his study?”

  “I believe so, sir. He said it was rather important.”

  “Well, then, I’ll go straightaway. Come along, darling. You’ll want to change before dinner. I’ll just nip in and have a word with your uncle.”

  “I’ll come with you. Just for a minute, don’t worry. I just want to say hello and make sure he’s doing all right.”

  “Well, come along then.”

  They went to Mason’s study, and Drew tapped on the open door. Mason looked up from the papers scattered across his desk amid a cloud of cigarette smoke.

  “Oh, Drew. There you are.” Seeing Madeline, he got to his feet. “Good evening, my dear.”

  “Hello, Uncle Mason. Don’t get up. I do wish you’d take a break from working all the time.”

  He managed a faint smile and sat down again. “I can’t just now, my dear, but soon.”

  “All right, but I’ll take that as a promise.”

  Drew sat himself on the edge of the desk. “I say, sir, did Nick tell you about our visit to the office?”

  “He did, in point of fact. I don’t know what to make of that passageway being there all along, but who would think to look for something as outlandish as that?”

  “Precisely. Lincoln must have been planning this for some while.” Drew watched his stepfather’s eyes. “He and whoever’s in it with him.”

  “True enough,” Mason said.

  “Did you hear about the missing files, as well?”

  Mason pursed his lips and folded his hands on the desk, effectively blocking Drew’s view of the papers he had been working on. “Nick said one of McCutcheon’s file drawers was empty.”

  “But it wasn’t when the police searched the lab earlier, or at least the chief inspector didn’t mention it.” Drew glanced at Madeline and then back at Mason. “What would anyone want with that sort of thing?”

  “Best leave that to the experts,” Mason said, and he began stacking pages. “Let’s see to our own business while we still have one, eh?”

  “I’ll let you get to whatever important business you need to talk to Drew about,” Madeline said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “No, no. No interruption in the least, my dear. I just find myself in a bit of a difficulty, and I’m hoping Drew won’t mind helping me out.”

  Drew studied his stepfather’s weary face. “Anything the matter?”

  Mason sighed. “With everything that’s happened, I forgot one of our French clients, a Mr. Latendresse, will be stopping by tonight.”

  “Tonight? The funeral was just three days ago. Are you up to that sort of thing yet?”

  “I’ll have to be, won’t I? I’d forgotten he was coming until he rang up to say he was about an hour away.”

  “Can’t he make it another time?”

  “I’m afraid not. He’s on his way up to London and then off to the Netherlands for a fortnight. I really can’t cancel on him now after he’s come all this way. I’m sure he hasn’t heard about . . . about anything here.”

  “All right, if you think it’s best.”

  “Can I help at all?” Madeline asked. “I’d be happy to play hostess for you, if you want me to.”

  “I was hoping you would.” Mason seemed to brighten a bit. “I don’t really want to have to carry all the conversation tonight. Don’t worry. I’ll handle the business end of things.”

  “I don’t mind hanging about if
you’d like, sir,” Drew said. “Between the three of us, I’m sure we’ll have your Mr. Latendresse purring like a kitten and eager to throw all his business to Farlinford.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d see to something else for me.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Rushford was to be here tonight as well, but his car has refused to start. His man is looking to it, but I’m afraid he won’t have it repaired in time to get Rushford here before Latendresse has to leave. Denton has the night off or I would send him, and Peterson . . .” Mason looked pleadingly at Drew.

  “And Peterson is just not quite the ticket for a business matter.”

  Mason exhaled. “Precisely. Do you think you might run up to Winchester and get him?”

  Drew smiled. “Don’t see why not. I can be there and back in half a jiff.”

  When Drew got to Winchester, he found Rushford waiting for him.

  “I’ve just had a call from Parker. He wants me to stop by the office and pick up some equipment specifications and other papers he’d like to discuss with Latendresse. I hope it doesn’t put you out to stop on the way.”

  “Not at all. Not at all.” Drew steered him out the front door and to the Rolls. “We’ll have you there and then to Farthering Place in no time at all.”

  It was a pleasant drive on a fine night, even if Rushford was rather dull company, talking only of business matters.

  “You needn’t come up,” Rushford said as he got out of the car at the Farlinford building. “I’ll be just a moment.”

  “Very well, sir. Take your time.”

  Drew watched as the old man unlocked the door and disappeared inside, and then he looked up at the window that marked Rushford’s corner office. After a while, the light went on.

  Drew sat for a moment, whistling a vague tune and tapping the steering wheel. Then, switching from whistling to humming, he looked himself over in the rearview mirror. Tie straight, hair in place, teeth sparkling, all was as it should be. Perhaps once the business portion of the evening was over, he could manage a bit of time alone with Madeline. She was going to have to explain herself and in no uncertain terms. Religion was a complex and personal matter, and she had just boiled it down into two basic ideas: glorify God and enjoy Him. She was absolutely stark staring mad.