by Shéa MacLeod
“They’re about their duties, m’lady. No time to be babysitting some, ah, anyone,” Cook said firmly.
“Right. Well, thanks ever so.” I gave them an airy wave and headed back upstairs, unsure where to search next. The library, perhaps? Maddie always did like hiding out in mine, such as it was. I imagined that a proper library in a manor such as this must be irresistible.
The library was next door to Harry’s study. The study door was closed, and I wondered if the police were done...doing whatever it was they did. I hadn’t seen or heard them leave, but that meant nothing in this massive house.
I pushed open the door of the library, straining to see in the dim light streaming from the tiny gap in the curtains. Either the maids were shirking their duties, or Harry was very devoted to protecting his books.
And there, huddled in the window seat, was Maddie. Nose in a book. She glanced up, eyes wide, when I let the door shut behind me.
“Lady Rample!” She scrambled from the seat, dumping a book on the floor in her haste to curtsey.
“Maddie. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Sorry, my lady. I figured you and your aunt were off and I wasn’t needed.” She glanced around guiltily.
“Normally that would be the case, but...didn’t you hear about the break-in last night?”
She shrugged. “Sure. But what’s it got to do with me?”
I sighed. “The police want to question everyone that was here. Including you.”
“But I don’t know anything!” Maddie wailed.
“True. But if you don’t speak with them, they might grow suspicious.” If they weren’t already.
“Will you come with me, Miss? I mean, Lady Rample?”
“I suppose. If I must.” It likely wouldn’t hurt, and I could insure Willis didn’t get out of hand. “I’m not certain they’re still here. The police I mean.”
“Then I could just stay here,” Maddie said brightly.
“Don’t be daft. We need to make sure the police know you’re willing to cooperate. Now come along.” I strode out without looking back, expecting her to follow me. She hesitated, then I finally heard her footsteps behind me. I paused a moment and turned to her. “One thing, Maddie. You brought me my tea at half past ten in the morning and didn’t leave my room until gone eleven. Right?”
“But that’s a lie, m’lady,” she said, giving me a shrewd look.
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Not knowing where else to go, I rapped on Harry’s study door. There was a shuffling sound from the other side, then the door swung open to reveal the suspicious visage of DI Willis.
“Detective Inspector,” I said, “you wished to speak to my maid?”
“What of it?” he snarled.
I restrained myself from throttling him. “I’ve brought her. Maddie.”
Maddie stepped forward looking nervous and a little ill. I think if the floor had opened her up and swallowed her in that moment, she would have been thrilled. As it was, she just fidgeted.
Willis narrowed gimlet eyes as he scanned Maddie up and down. He clearly found her lacking. “Very good. This way.” He slipped out of the study, shutting the door so quickly I hardly got a glimpse inside.
Shoving past me, he led us back toward the drawing room, currently unoccupied. This late in the afternoon the guests were either napping, enjoying a shady spot somewhere, or perhaps down at the boat house enjoying a swim. And my guess was that a couple of the male guests had gone to the pub in the village to while away the afternoon over an ale or several.
Willis tried to shoo me out, but I was having none of it. “She’s my maid. I will stay and hear what she has to say.”
“Fine,” he snarled. He muttered something about “toffs” which I chose to ignore. Really, I’d half a mind to report him to his superiors. His attitude was simply uncalled for.
He beckoned Maddie to sit, but she shook her head. “I prefer to stand, sir.”
He harrumphed. “Very well. Why weren’t you available for questioning this morning?”
“Sorry, sir, I was unaware I was wanted.” Maddie’s expression was completely blank to the point of being stupid. Which she bloody well wasn’t. I gave an inner cheer for her cleverness. Willis expected her to be stupid, so stupid she was.
“Listen, girl, you should always make yourself available to the police.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” She blinked slowly, giving him cow eyes, ramping up the idiot role.
I held back a snicker. “I think she’s learned her lesson, Detective Inspector. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
He glared at me but did as requested. “What were your movements last night, girl?”
“My movements, sir?” Maddie repeated stupidly.
“Yes, girl, your movements. What did you do last night after Lady Rample came upstairs from tea?”
He meant supper, of course. Tea being a term more commonly used among the so-called “lower classes.” My own father referred to the evening meal as “tea,” lowly vicar that he is.
“Well...” Maddie drug the word out as if she were just discovering it. “Lady Rample come up late, you see, from wot she usually does.”
“How late?” he asked, eyeing me sharply.
“’Bout one in the morning, sir. I’d fallen asleep, you see. And she scolded me.”
“Right. Fell asleep where?’
“In her room, sir. On the sofa thingy.”
“The chaise longue,” I supplied.
“What the blue blazes is a chase long?” he snapped.
“It’s a—”
“Never mind.” He shook his head and turned back to Maddie. “So, you fell asleep, Lady Rample woke you up, then what?”
“I helped her get ready for bed, then I went up to bed myself. I was that tired.”
“What time was that?” He jotted something in his notebook.
“I dunno, sir. Around two, mayhap.”
She was laying the dumb routine on thick. “Yes, about that.”
“Right. Then what?”
Maddie blinked again, slowly. “Why, I don’t know, sir. I went to sleep.”
“And after you slept?” he gritted out.
“Woke up at eight, as per my usual when away from home. Went for a walk, got my breakfast, then went about work. Woke Lady Rample at half ten with her morning tea. Was with her ‘til gone eleven,” she parroted my words almost exactly.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You didn’t get up during the night at any time?”
“No, sir.”
“Didn’t hear anything or see anything unusual?”
“No, sir.”
He sighed again. “And can anyone vouch for your whereabouts during the night?”
“I s’pose Mary can.”
“That’s Mary, one of the household maids?”
“Yes, sir. I share a room with her.”
“Right then. That will be all.” He didn’t bother to thank either of us but shooed us out with a motion of his hand.
“What an unutterable ass,” I muttered as I shut the door firmly behind us.
“Goodness, m’lady, language! What would your aunt say?”
“The same, no doubt.”
“Is it over, m’lady?”
I nodded. “Yes, Maddie.” At least I jolly well hoped so. If only we were closer to knowing the truth.
Chapter 7
I spent the rest of the day in my room trying alternatively to nap or read. Neither worked. My mind buzzed and fizzed with possibilities. Finally, I gave up and dressed early for supper. Since Maddie wasn’t there to help, I donned a simple light green satin evening dress. The bodice was loose enough to fit my ample bosoms, and the straps were decorated with sparkling rhinestones. Slipping my feet into silver sandals, I waited with one ear to the door as the other guests tucked themselves away in their rooms to prepare for the evening. Then I slipped downstairs.
Detective Inspector Willis had left hours ago, ostensibly to return
to the station and report to his superiors. Unfortunately, Harry had been locked in his study the rest of the day, so it had been off limits. This was my first chance to snoop...Er, investigate.
The lock on the study door proved as difficult to pick as the one on the cellar door had. I was about to give up in frustration when someone loomed over me and said, “Want me to have a go?”
I glanced up. “Chaz! Give a girl heart palpitations, why don’t you. Why aren’t you getting ready?” At some point he’d swapped out his seersucker suit for a white dinner jacket over black trousers.
“Didn’t need much doing, darling. Quick change and voila.” He spread his hands as if to indicate his magnificence. “And I saw you slipping out. Knew you’d be up to no good. Spy hunting, are we?”
“Trying to. Could you?” I held up the pick set.
He waved me aside and had the lock open in minutes.
We both slipped inside and shut the door behind us. Straight ahead were a pair of French windows, no doubt the same ones the burglar had broken into, overlooking the main gardens and the path wending down the hillside to the river and the boathouse. To the left was a large window which overlooked the side gardens and the orangery. The curtains were back on both, though sheer drapes covered them with a light filmy gauze, leaving the room in soft twilight. The scent of pipe smoke lingered, and underneath, the faintest trace of men’s cologne. Something expensive and citrusy. Not unlike what Chaz wore.
To the right was a modern fireplace, neatly appointed with a carved mantlepiece and art deco tiles. In front of that was a single reading chair, simple lines covered in wine velvet, and a side table perfect for setting one’s drink on while reading the paper or a book.
In the middle of the room stood a large antique desk which could have stood in for a dining table. The thing was vast. On it were several stacks of papers and folders of varying heights. Behind it was a leather chair. Against the wall to the left of the French doors was a filing cabinet and a small bookshelf containing not books, but file boxes, all neatly labeled.
“Doesn’t look like there’s been a break-in,” Chaz mused.
“I imagine the maids have been in to clean,” I said. “Harry no doubt had them in the minute Willis was out the door.”
“So we’ve no idea what the place looked like after the supposed burglary.”
I glanced at him, surprised by his words. “What do you mean? Do you think Harry faked the break-in?”
He shrugged. “Anything’s possible. Don’t you think it’s odd that Neville Chamberlain, of all people, was here, and then next thing there’s a burglary, but Harry has no idea if anything was taken?”
“He does? But the constable—Smith, I think—slipped up and said something had been taken.”
Chaz shrugged. “If that’s true, then dear Harry is lying through his very white teeth.”
It was dashed odd. “Do you think it was a cover up? But why? What would Harry be trying to cover up?”
“Damned if I know. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe the constable was confused. Or trying to sound important. But it’s just...odd.”
Odd it was. “Well, let’s just look around and see if we can learn anything of use.”
“Where should we start?”
I tapped my chin. “I’ll have a look at the papers on the desk. You check out the file cabinet and the bookshelf. We only have perhaps twenty minutes before the first guests come down for pre-supper drinks.”
“Less. Harry usually gets down first.”
“Dash it all. Fifteen, then.”
We went to work, quickly thumbing through papers, trying to get some idea of what Harry was up to. Most of the papers on the desk were farm documents: ledgers, notes from tenants, orders of seed. That sort of thing. There were also bank statements, correspondence between Harry and various people—some personal, some clearly business. But nothing that gave any indication as to why someone would want to break into his study.
Chaz was still deep in the file cabinet, so I roamed the edge of the room. Maybe something had fallen under a chair or behind a bookshelf? But I found nothing. Until I came to the fireplace.
It had been decidedly hot over the past few days. Far too hot to have a fire going. But there, in the grate, were the charred remains of just such a thing.
I knelt down, frowning. Even if Harry had been cold and decided to start a fire, surely the maids would have been in to clean by now?
Using the poker, I carefully nudged some of the ash to the side, catching sight of something not entirely burned. It was a small bit of paper with something neatly drawn. Schematics of some sort, it looked like, but it was hard to say; the piece was so small.
Before I could show it to Chaz, I heard a familiar voice in the hallway. I froze, hoping Harry would simply head into the drawing room. Instead, footsteps echoed outside the door. Without thinking, I dashed across the room, grabbed Chaz by the arm, and yanked him toward the French doors.
We barely made it outside and out of eyeline of anyone entering the room, before the study door swung open and Harry could be heard saying, “...I’ve got one in here. Let me show you...”
I carefully reached over and pushed the French door closed until it latched softly. Then I took a deep breath and stepped away, down the side of the house with Chaz hot on my heels.
“That was close,” he said.
“Too close,” I agreed. “Did you find anything?”
“Not a thing,” he said cheerfully. “Just bally boring ledgers and such. No secret government documents. What about you?”
I told him about the fragment I’d found in the fireplace. “I have no idea what it was, and it might not mean anything,” I admitted. “I just think it’s suspicious that he burned it in the fireplace in the middle of the summer instead of throwing it away in the bin.”
“Does seem deuced odd.” Chaz shoved his hands in his pockets. “What now?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I need to have a think. Why don’t you go on in?”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to take a turn around the garden. Maybe head down to the river. A bit of solitude would do me good.” The sun had sunk low on the horizon and it was finally a tolerable temperature. Fresh air was just the thing to clean out the cobwebs.
“While you’re gone, I’ll see if I can’t rustle up a proper highball for you.”
“Actually, I think I’m off highballs for the moment. How about another one of those marvelous Aviation cocktails?”
He winked and strode toward the terrace and the doors leading into the drawing room.
I slipped further into the garden, losing myself down a winding path edged in masses of roses, rhododendrons, lavender, larkspur, and lilies. Wisteria and climbing roses had even been trained over arched trellises so they formed a tunnel of color and perfume. Bees buzzed to and fro and the occasional humming bird zipped in to sip from one of the blooms. I almost wished I lived in the country, so I could have such a garden, but I was a city girl through and through. The occasional visit to the countryside was fine but give me the bright lights of London any day. I needed people and excitement and things to do, places to go.
The path curved downward toward the river and I followed it. The air got cooler and damper as I descended. Perhaps I should have brought a shawl with me.
The path came to an end at a small promontory edged in a low rock wall before descending again toward the boat house. I could just see its roof through the trees. I stepped closer to the wall. The view over the River Dart was splendid. Distant lights shone like fireflies as the sun sank into the sea to my right, coloring the sky in rose and orange.
I tried to bring my mind back to the matter at hand, but it would wander down the garden path, so to speak. Perhaps I should give this silliness up. No one had been hurt. Harry even claimed nothing had been taken, despite what Constable Smith had claimed. And Willis seemed to believe Maddie’s story, so I no longer feared she was in danger. The policeman no doubt believe
d her to be just another English lass gone into service and had no idea of her background. I’d worried for nothing. So, yes, maybe I should just give up my little investigation and let the police handle things. The likelihood was my curiosity would never be satiated anyway. I might as well enjoy this time. Perhaps a trip to the sea was in order? It was just a short bit away.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I froze. I knew that voice. But it couldn’t be. He was away in France, playing jazz in Paris, no doubt. And yet...
I turned slowing, drinking in the sight of him. Broad shoulders. Bedroom eyes. Full lips that knew just how to kiss. I’d had personal experience with that.
I stepped closer and he reached out to stroke a hand down my arm, his long, artist’s fingers so dark against my pale, bare skin. I managed to hold back a sigh, but only just.
“Hale,” I finally managed. “You’re here. How—?”
“We can talk about the how later. Right now, I’ve more important things to do.” And he pulled me tight against him and kissed me. At first it was soft and sweet, full of lush promise. But then it grew a bit steamier and more intense.
Just when I thought I might do something embarrassing like swoon, he let me go and skimmed a finger down my cheek. “Been dreaming of that for a while.”
His husky voice twinned with that American accent almost had me swooning all over again. I reminded myself sternly that I was a grown woman and didn’t go swooning over musicians. Or anyone, for that matter.
“What are you doing here?” I finally managed.
The last I’d seen of Hale Davis had been at the Astoria Club, one of London’s premier jazz clubs. Since it was now shut down, thanks to a murder on site, he and his jazz band had moved to greener pastures. Not that I blamed him. Musicians had to go where there were people willing to hire them, and in his case, the people willing to hire him were in France.
I admit I’d wished he’d stayed, that we could have spent more time together, but the reality was that despite mutual attraction, we came from two different worlds. Didn’t mean I missed him any less, or that I was any less annoyed that he didn’t write. Or call. Or something.