The Case of the Puppet
Constable
A “Justice” and Miss Quinn Mystery
Book Two
By
Felicia Rogers
The Case of the Puppet Constable
A “Justice” and Miss Quinn Mystery, Book Two
Copyright ©2016 by Felicia Rogers
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Contact Information:
Website: http://feliciarogersauthor.weebly.com
Email: [email protected]
Published by:
Felicia Rogers
Cover Design by For the Muse Designs
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One: The Suitor
Chapter Two: The Dance
Chapter Three: The Theft
Chapter Four: The Estate
Chapter Five: The Plan Is Afoot
Chapter Six: Murder at Odell
Chapter Seven: We Need Help
Chapter Eight: Discoveries
Chapter Nine: Fire!
Chapter Ten: Suspect Revealed?
Author’s Note
Chapter One: The Suitor
March 1815
Emmett’s lips tingled from the smiling.
The home of Mr. Rotherham teemed with people. Clear crystal glasses clanged against the trays of passing servants. Emmett backed against the paneled wall and waited while the crowd’s attention was diverted to Hesper Rotherham. The young lady had agreed to take most of the credit for discovering Polidor Tyrrel’s plot to steal the wealthy blind. That was fine with him. The less attention he received, the better. Even though it felt good to be believed a hero, he had to consider that he might be found out. Then what?
“Congratulations on a job well done, Constable Roskin.”
Emmett turned at the deep baritone of Fortescue Cunning. The young fellow had recently received the title of Baron of Eure. Lucky bloke.
Cunning sipped at a glass of sherry and Emmett’s collar tightened like a noose about his neck. Few in high society knew of his past, fewer still would dare to share it about the ton, but Cunning wasn’t one of them. He’d sell his mother’s soul to the devil if he thought he’d make a pence. Did he know?
“Do tell me how you discovered Tyrrel’s involvement in stealing the Crusader’s Cross.”
Emmett pointed a trembling finger in Hesper’s direction. Confidence, he needed to display more confidence.
“Ah, so the self-absorbed Miss Rotherham brought the plot to your attention.”
The statement held the hint of a question. Emmett swallowed and nodded. His lips quivered. “Aye.” He had no idea who pulled his strings and kept him in the position he enjoyed. He’d met his employer in dark alleys and recognized him only by his deep voice. For all he knew, Cunning could be his benefactor. But he doubted it. The man was too uppity.
Cunning massaged his square chin. “Very interesting. The story would work well in one of my novels.”
Emmett relaxed. Cunning was only researching a new novel which meant he probably wasn’t his unseen master.
“Feel free to use any material from my life. I’m an open book.” Emmett’s heart raced and he squeezed his sweaty hands. He just hoped no one opened his book.
Cunning’s lip teased upward. He walked away and Emmett relaxed. Words drifted back to him. “Do tell, Mr. Puppetmaster.”
Emmett’s gut clenched. He had to have heard him wrongly. There was no other option.
****
The party to celebrate the discovery of Tyrrel’s dishonesty and the finding of the cross ended rather abruptly for Justin Blakemoor. He was in the unique position of knowing things and learning more every day about the local peerage. The tidbits of information disturbed him greatly.
He eyed Constable Emmett Roskin. Until recently he’d only seen the man in passing. They’d never even spoken until Justin agreed to search for Lady Sybil Peppercorn’s missing cross. In retrospect, the job should have been in the hands of the constable from the beginning, so why hadn’t it? Why had the elderly lady been forced to hire her own investigator to have her case reviewed?
The insinuations of Fortescue Cunning, or the Baron of Eure, that the constable was a puppet led by the whims of a higher authority, raced through his mind as he sipped his warm port and studied the crowd over the brass rim of his cup. Those in attendance had suffered by Polidor Tyrrel’s hand, which created a common bond. Each had lost a precious item and received a portion of it back, except for Hesper. She had regained her entire treasure. The brooch that he’d given her on a whim had been stolen yet returned to her whole. This brought a host of questions to his mind. Had Hesper really lost her brooch or just hid it for attention? Had—
A tap on his forearm drew his notice. A tiny man in a jester costume crooked a finger and Justin bent over.
“A young lady awaits you at the gate.”
Justin rose, procured a coin from his pocket, and passed it to the oddly arrayed messenger. The man scurried away, causing a cornucopia of jingling bells. Assured the individual hadn’t rushed to another in attendance and shared the information of his message, Justin discreetly quit the room and exited the front door. In the wee morning hours, no horses clomped along the cobbled streets. Birds slept in their nests and children snuggled comfortably next to their mothers. Not even the air dared to whistle.
Skirts swished through the mist. Justin stared at the lady’s pointed shoes and roved his way upward. The white dress was almost translucent in the moonlight. The dark pelisse swathing her shoulders was barely enough to keep a young lady warm. She moved. His breath caught. The wide-brimmed plumed hat covered none other than Magnolia!
“What are you doing about?” He kept his voice low, but he still glanced back at the house. When no one appeared to have followed him, he breathed a sigh of relief. It wouldn’t do for any to know of the young woman’s involvement. Magnolia’s father, Jules Quinn, would be angry and Justin might lose his partner.
“I had to come. Because of this.” Her fingers trembled as she held up strings attached to a wooden puppet. “Someone left it on my doorstep with a cryptic note.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Where is the note?”
She handed over a slip of paper and his throat tightened. The yellowed parchment crinkled in the silent night as he unfolded it with care. A fine scrawl decorated the page.
The fun is only beginning.
He blinked and shifted his eyes back to Magnolia.
“See what I mean.” She hoisted the puppet into her arms as if she was a child seeking comfort from a favorite toy.
He’d hoped to keep Magnolia’s name out of the public eye, but it seemed that her role had already been compromised. “Who else knows about this?”
“No one. I came straight here.”
“Does your father know you’re out alone on such an evening?”
Between clenched teeth, she said, “Of course not.” She nodded erratically and he moved back lest her forehead knock him in the chin. “Why would I tell my father that I was leaving the house in the dead of night to bring you a puppet!”
“I thought perhaps—”
She slapped the back of her hand across his double-breasted tailcoat. “You haven’t thought one
wit since you began this escapade. I told you that I should not get involved. That Justice and Miss Quinn should never return, especially not into the public eye. Yet you didn’t listen.”
“I don’t remember that.” He did, but he wouldn’t admit it—he loved working with her too much.
She narrowed her eyes. “Well if I didn’t say it, I certainly meant to.” She thrusted her chin forward. “What am I going to do? If Father realizes that I’m involved in such a stunt he will never let me out of his sight. This is a disaster.”
“Give the puppet to me.”
“What?” She blinked.
“Give me the puppet and I’ll take it home. I shall investigate this case on my own. That way no one will know of your involvement. This time only Justice will be enacted.”
She gaped like a fish removed from water. “How could you suggest leaving me behind! Without me Tyrrel would have escaped.” She planted her hands on her slim hips.
He thrilled at her insistence, knowing the adventure of discovery was only pleasurable with her by his side. “Your statement is true. So what do you propose?”
She bit her lip. The sight made his heart skip a beat and he wished he had the right to kiss the spot. Alas, he did not.
“I recommend we wait. Perhaps there will be an occurrence that will assist in our discovery.”
He twitched his lips upward. “So you’ll take the puppet home?” He grunted as she thrust the wooden object into his abdomen.
“Heavens, no! The wooden creature flushes my flesh with chills.”
He wished he brought her chills but of a different nature. Unfortunately, she didn’t see him in such a light. Maybe someday he could convince her…
Her voice lowered. “You will take it?”
He clasped her gloved hand. “If that is what you wish.”
“It is.”
“Then it shall be done.”
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
Moonlight lingered on her dark hair and created a halo. His heart rate escalated at her beauty. She shivered. “Magnolia, you should be away. The night air is cool and if you catch the ague you will be hard-pressed to assist me.”
She took her hand from his. “Will I see you on the morrow?”
“Without a doubt.”
****
Magnolia complied with Justin’s wishes and returned to the waiting carriage. Within the confines she snuggled beneath frigid blankets and prayed for warmer weather. Surely it would come soon. Spring must be right around the corner.
The carriage bounced along the cobblestone roads, coming to a shuddering halt outside her family townhome. Candlelight shone behind the parlor window and her heart fell to her stomach. This could only mean that her father was up and he knew that she wasn’t in her room. She sighed. Being older than most of her peers and unmarried didn’t mean she could gallivant through the streets unsupervised—or so society dictated. Maybe one day…
Benton, the carriage driver, opened the door and she tiptoed down the steps and onto the walk. Her heart hammered against her ribcage and between her ears until she was almost deaf. In the middle of the walkway, she stopped and drew in a shaky breath.
“Magnolia!”
Jules Quinn’s booming voice echoed across the moonlit yard, and she jumped. She made a move to turn, but Benton nudged her in the back. “I believe you’re being summoned.”
Magnolia gulped down her fear, pulled back her shoulders, and sauntered with false bravery toward the closed front door. The hour was nigh to midnight. Why did Father sound so awake and jovial? She drew in a shaky breath as she turned the knob and tugged. Surprise caught in her throat as she faced her father’s backside.
Not noticing her presence, he bellowed up the stairs. “Magnolia Juliet Quinn, come down this instant.”
Quietly she closed the front door. If Father was using her middle name, then it must be serious. She chewed upon her lip as she thought of a plausible reason she was coming through the front door and not from her bedroom above. When nothing came to mind, she cleared her throat and prayed he wouldn’t figure it out.
Her father spun on his heel and gasped. “Wh-what? How?” He knit his brow into a deep frown. “I don’t know what you’ve been about, young lady, but I do know what you’re going to do presently. March yourself into the library. Now.”
Magnolia feared arguing with her sire and complied. The wet hem of her gown struck the back of her leg with each step, setting up an extra chill. Heat radiated from the library’s open double doors. Fire flickered in the grate, casting eerie shadows along the book-encased walls. A figure rose from a high-backed chair and her father pushed her farther into the room.
“Don’t be rude, dear. Welcome Sir Kenelm Kennaway.”
“How do you do?” She curtseyed and ignored the visitor’s proffered hand.
He dropped his arm awkwardly to his side. “I do well, thank you for asking.”
Father stood between them and to the side. He clapped. “Sir Kennaway will be staying with us for a few days. He was recently knighted by George III. He is a national hero.”
Kennaway waved the words away even while puffing out his chest. “I simply assisted in catching a pirate. I’m hardly a hero.”
“Oh don’t be so modest, Sir Kennaway.”
Magnolia’s curiosity was piqued. “I thought pirates were a thing of the past.”
“For the most part you’re correct. However, after the Napoleonic wars many privateers lost work and reverted to pirating.”
She sashayed farther into the room and settled on the chaise longue, wishing she could have sat closer to the fire. “So you captured an out-of-work man providing for his family in the only way he knew how. The way the crown had trained him.”
“I-I–” Kennaway looked between Father and herself as if he sought rescue.
She continued. “The crown grooms these men for a position and when they are no longer of use they are left to die a pirate. It is unconscionable.”
Father’s jaw dropped and she shifted uncomfortably upon the plush chaise. The forthrightness she expressed with Justin wasn’t always well received in other social settings. Why must she always forget that?
“Bravo, bravo.” Kennaway clapped. He lifted his tails and resettled on the edge of his chair. “While I did stop a ship from pirating and I turned over the captain, I made sure to suggest fairness toward him for the very reasons you stated.”
“And how was your request received?”
“With forced amicableness.”
“I would expect no less from the crown.”
Father, who had closed his gaping mouth, now decided to interject. “The crown has every right to—”
“Of course they do. As the leader of the country they can do as they please, but that doesn’t mean they have to.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Did she sense a smile in Kennaway’s voice?
Father turned beet red. She’d embarrassed him. She must remember that such an action brought about stern words and a revoking of her privileges. If she wished to cavort with Justin, then she would do well to keep her opinions to herself.
Kennaway stretched his arm along the back of the seat. “Mr. Quinn, your daughter is wise beyond her years.”
Father’s lips twitched upward. Was he angry or proud? An immediate affinity for Mr. Kennaway emerged.
The clock struck the midnight hour and she yawned behind her hand. Already bags had formed beneath her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of extra forwardness, but may I ask the purpose of your visit?”
Father cast a conspiratorial glance at their visitor. Her stomach churned. Had her father carried through on his threats? Had he finally found her a suitor? Had her freedom just been arrested from her?
Chapter Two: The Dance
Justin paced the library with the note clutched in his hand. He stopped and read it again.
Unable to meet today, perhaps tomorrow?
What did the messag
e mean? Magnolia had never missed a planned meeting. And for her to skip out the day after they received the puppet meant something must be amiss.
Justin grabbed his coat and hat and raced from the house. The landscaping that the gardener worked at every day was ignored. The scent of bluebells that normally brought a smile to his lips faded at the increased speed of his heart. He was halfway to the stables when his father yelled. “Justin!”
The toe of his boot buried in mud as he skidded to a halt. Keane, his valet, would not be pleased at the extra buffing they would require.
“Justin, where are you off to?”
He twisted free of the muddy encasement and stared at his sire. Randall Blakemoor had maintained a healthy physique even though his peers strutted about with jiggly paunches and saggy trousers. With his mother’s passing five years prior, Justin found he wanted his father to live forever and prayed his good health continued even if it allowed his father to keep up with him at the worst of times.
“I was considering a visit with Miss Quinn.”
“Ah.” His father shifted his gaze to the ground as if he hid a valuable piece of information.
“Father?”
He lifted his square chin. “Yes?”
“Do you need to tell me something?”
He tugged his collar and shook his head. Wisps of gray hair fell across his brow in a rakish fashion.
“You have nothing to say, however, I have the sense you meant to stop me from visiting Magnolia because you do have something to say.”
“Son–”
Justin groaned. Anytime his father labeled him son bad things were set to happen.
Father held up his hand. “Hear me out.”
He opened his palm. Might as well get the unpleasantness over with.
“Mr. Quinn asked me to pass along a message.”
The Case of the Puppet Constable (A Justice and Miss Quinn Mystery Book 2) Page 1