by Sonia Parin
Elizabeth gave her a knowing smile. “No one seems to argue over Charlie Timms’ stud fees but they do argue when they can’t actually get the service.”
The remark took Evie by surprise. Glancing at Tom, she saw the same reaction reflected in his eyes. She had no doubt they were both impressed by Elizabeth Young’s astute manner.
Had Elizabeth heard Charlie arguing with Mrs. Howard-Smith because he wanted to end their affair?
“Out of curiosity, do you garden?” Evie asked.
“Not really. I look after a few rose bushes my mother planted. Charlie Timms gives me horse manure because he says roses love it. He knows his plants.”
“Do you know if he grows foxglove?”
Elizabeth Young didn’t even think about it. “Not since the order came from the house to stop growing it when Lady Woodridge’s dog died of poison, or so I’m told. I think I might have only just been born when it happened.”
No one grew foxgloves?
They would have to find another poisonous plant…
Evie reminded Elizabeth to never hesitate to ask for help and, thanking her for the tea, left.
On the way back to the car, Tom asked, “That’s it? You don’t want to talk to Charlie Timms?”
One more day, Evie thought. “Do you know what I think?”
“Do I get three guesses or are you going to tell me?”
Evie tapped her chin in thought. What if Tom got it right the first time? “I’ll tell you because I want to continue to believe I am not transparent.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be so dull. Anyhow, I think Elizabeth Young is keen on Charlie Timms.”
Tom looked at her for a long moment. Evie tried to imagine what he might be thinking but her mind failed to yield any suggestions.
“Does that mean she’s just become a suspect? After all, she’d want to get rid of her competition.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Evie mused. “In fact, I think Elizabeth is prepared to wait it out.” At least now they had confirmation Charlie Timms had tried to end the affair.
Then again…
Could Elizabeth Young be so infatuated she would do and say anything for Charlie Timms?
Chapter Twenty
After their visit to Elizabeth Young, they drove straight to the pub so Tom could change out of his black suit. While eager to do the same, Evie suggested stopping by Mrs. Baker’s Delights first for an early luncheon.
“Since we were supposed to have gone on to Witford Hall, we won’t be expected back until later for a late luncheon. I’m afraid I cannot wait. Also, their game pie is scrumptious.”
As they strode in, the young waitress looked up from behind the counter.
Hoping to find the table by the window available, Evie glanced away. When she turned back to the young woman, Evie found her still staring at her, her expression showing a hint of surprise.
Surprised to see Evie at the tea room so soon after the funeral service?
“Table for two?” the young woman asked.
“Yes, please.”
Taking her seat, Evie smiled at the waitress and only then noticed her name embroidered on her apron. “Florence, we would love some of your delectable game pie, please. I’ve been craving it since I last had it here.”
“Thank you for saying so, milady. I’m hoping it will do well in the pie competition at the upcoming fair. Some of our customers have been purchasing them to take home with them and I have even started a delivery service to some locals.”
“Well, I would love to have a daily delivery of them but I am afraid my cook might take exception, so I shall have to indulge in secret.”
Evie waited for Florence to stride off before saying, “I would hate to get on the wrong side of my cook. Who knows what she might do. I hope word doesn’t reach her about me enjoying these pies so much.”
Tom laughed. “You are living in fear in your own home?”
“I’ve only now become aware of how sensitive some people can be.” She brushed her finger along the hemline of her dress. “There is nothing wrong with taking precautions and treading with care.”
Tom teased, “Not too much care, I hope. Otherwise, you will be doing me out of a job.”
Looking out the window, Evie noticed a few villagers dressed in black and wondered if they had attended the funeral. It seemed strange since Mrs. Howard-Smith hadn’t really been a local.
“Did we get around to suspecting Everett Townsend? Perhaps we should. He has a greenhouse and his estate doesn’t fall under our jurisdiction so it wouldn’t be affected by the dowager’s edict.”
Florence set the plates down. “Enjoy.”
The aroma made Evie forget what she’d been talking about.
“It looks good, it smells good,” Tom declared. Taking a bite, he added, “And it tastes good.”
“This is rather pretty. I didn’t notice the crust has Mrs. Baker’s Delights pressed into it.” That’s all she managed to say before falling into silent appreciation of the pie. Several bites later, she looked up and found Tom in a similar state of blissful oblivion.
“Just as good as you suggested,” he said.
When Florence strode by their table, Evie said, “Our compliments to the cook.”
“Oh, thank you. That’ll be me.”
“Really? You must be run off your feet.”
“I will be getting help now. Since opening the tea room a few months ago, business has been good enough for me to employ someone.” Seeing more customers coming in, Florence excused herself.
Devoting all their attention to their meal, Evie waited until they’d finished to say, “It’s wonderfully enterprising for someone so young.”
“All I can say is we’re lucky she set up her tea room here. This is probably the best pie I have ever had,” Tom declared.
On their return to Halton House, Evie mused, “I didn’t realize Henrietta could be so dictatorial. Then again, she must have been heartbroken over the loss of her dog. I think I would be too. But would I take such extreme measures and expect everyone to stop growing foxglove?” After a moment of silence, Evie turned to look at Tom.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” he said. “Did you expect me to answer?”
“No, not really.” They had fixated on the plant after the detective’s odd question about gardening and only because they had come across a book on poisonous plants and then George Mills had told them he didn’t grow it on the estate.
Foxglove had seemed to fit the bill. If not foxglove, then which other plant might have been used by the killer? The doctor had initially determined Mrs. Howard-Smith had died of a heart attack, but his findings had clearly been overturned…
As they were not privy to that information, they would have to make do with more guesswork.
“I fear we might be wrong about foxglove being the killer’s choice of poison,” Evie mused.
“Do you have an alternative in mind?”
“No. We shall have to consult the book of poisonous plants again. I’ve been trying to remember why we settled on foxglove?”
Tom brushed his hand across the steering wheel. “We were looking for a garden plant and that one seemed to match the criteria.”
“I just had the same thought. Well, we got it wrong.”
Tom prompted, “Because…”
“Because no one seems to grow it.” Evie clasped her hands and twiddled her thumbs. “Now I’m thinking I’ve been rather hasty in my conclusion. We know it’s not grown on the estate or any of the surrounding farms but perhaps someone in the village grows it.” Or someone with an estate nearby like Everett Townsend.
Slowing down, Tom turned and gave her a surprised look. “Are you about to suggest we inspect every garden in the district?”
“I’m sure the police have already done that. Do you think the detective has searched the grounds without asking for permission? I noticed he hasn’t returned to make further inquiries or accusations.”
This time, Tom laughed. “In your place, I would be relieved.�
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“Yes, but it means we no longer have the opportunity to prod for information. I wonder why he attended the service?” Unlike Everett Townsend, the detective had made no effort to engage her in conversation.
“To pay his respects?”
Evie twitched her nose.
“Fine. For the same reasons we all did. Curiosity,” Tom suggested.
“I am not convinced. He must have had his eye on someone or he might have been waiting for someone to show up. Do you think he’s onto Charlie Timms? He’s the only person who is somehow involved in all this and who didn’t show up at the funeral.” She wondered why he had chosen to stay away. Especially after showing so much concern for Mrs. Howard-Smith’s reputation. Did he think his presence might have drawn attention to himself and raised questions?
“How do you know he didn’t attend?” Tom asked. “He might have been in disguise or he might have stayed well out of sight, maintaining a safe distance. Remember, he doesn’t want the affairs to be brought out into the open. His presence might have piqued someone’s curiosity.”
“Yes. Yes. I believe you have made your point.”
“Then again, he might have conned us into believing he was only concerned about the victims’ welfare and reputations.”
Evie gave a woeful sigh. “Why must people be so underhanded and complicated?”
This produced another laugh from Tom. “I’m surprised you haven’t pointed the finger of suspicion at Everett Townsend. He has a greenhouse.”
Evie grinned. “I have mentioned him and… We’ll get to him in good time.”
As they drove through the Halton House gatehouse, Evie leaned forward. “Is that the detective’s vehicle?” Evie exclaimed pushing the words out. “I swear my heart is thumping all the way to my throat, if that is at all possible.”
Had someone else died?
Tom glanced at her. “Perhaps the detective has come to his senses and has decided to share vital information with you.”
“When did you decide to have fun at my expense?”
He laughed. “When I realized you were providing the entertainment without any encouragement whatsoever. Would you like me to turn the motor car around?”
Evie looked over her shoulder at the road behind them. “You have no idea how tempted I am. Do you think he would give chase?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“Aha! Now you’re taunting me into providing entertainment. Drive on, please. I wish to hear what the detective has to say.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They pulled up outside the front steps just as Edgar opened the front door. Evie frowned. “He took his time.”
“You’re right. When we arrive, Edgar opens the door immediately. He must have seen us approaching and decided to wait for us to arrive. You obviously take precedence over the detective who is clearly fuming.”
Yes, she could see that. Detective Inspector O’Neill stood on the doorstep tapping his foot and slapping one hand against the other.
“Good morning,” Evie greeted him. “What brings you out this way, detective?”
“Lady Woodridge.” He tipped his hat. “I had intended approaching you at the service, but then decided against it. Too many eyes and ears,” he explained.
“How considerate. Do come in. I will ring for some tea. That is, if you’re brave enough to have some.”
“It would be most welcomed. Thank you.”
She led him through to the library. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Tom following them several steps behind.
“By the way, detective. Have you heard of anyone who has a litter of puppies?”
He looked somewhat confused.
“I’m looking to adopt one.” Despite Caro’s objections, Evie wanted to spread the word around about her interest in a puppy. The sooner Caro got used to the idea, the sooner she would stop sabotaging Evie’s clothes…
“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.”
“Strange. I would have expected spring to be the perfect time for an abundance of new litters.” Turning to Edgar, she asked for some tea and cake to be brought in. “Are you, by any chance, here to take a sample of my special blend of tea? I noticed you didn’t take any last time you were here. I don’t wish to be granted special privileges. In fact, I should insist you take some. Although, it should be enough if you drink some.”
For the first time, the detective looked uncomfortable.
If Henrietta had overheard her, she would have given her a warning to behave. Instead, she had to suffer Tom’s roll of the eyes.
“I noticed you at the service today, inspector. Did your suspect turn up?”
“There appears to be a conspiracy of silence,” he said. “I have been trying to find out where the victims dined on the night of their deaths but no one has come forward with the information.” He shook his head. “It strikes me as odd that no one should have seen them on their final night until they both arrived home late in the evening.”
The detective looked at Evie long and hard.
At first, she held still. So still, she held her breath. Evie smiled and shifted. She hoped those were not the signs of a guilty mind. “I can confirm I had dinner with several people on the night of Mrs. Hallesberry’s death. As for the night of the first victim’s death… I’m afraid I retired early and you only have my word for it.”
“I don’t mean to suggest you are still under suspicion.” He held his hands out, palms up. “See, I don’t even have my notebook out.”
So… She had been held under suspicion.
Regardless, why had the detective decided to pay her another visit? Surely, he didn’t really think she could help him.
Evie curled her fingers around the armrests. She had been keeping vital information from him and she had to snatch this opportunity and come clean. Yes, she needed to rid her conscience of guilt before it became an issue. She simply couldn’t see a way around it. She would have to name Charlie Timms.
The detective leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrest. “What astonishes me is that an entire village knew about Dr. Browning driving out in the middle of the night, but no one saw either of the ladies’ cars on the road. It makes one wonder if they are all hiding something… or trying to protect someone.”
Evie shared a look with Tom as she silently congratulated herself for reaching that conclusion all by herself.
If, as the detective claimed, everyone knew about the doctor’s emergency house call, did they also know about Charlie Timms?
She had witnessed the committee ladies’ reaction to Charlie and that could not have been the first time it had happened.
What would compel everyone to maintain their silence and unite in solidarity? She imagined local men aspiring to be like him and local women entertaining dreams of being with him.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, detective. Despite being within walking distance of the village, we are rather sheltered from all noise here.” Including gossip; something she thought she had covered with Caro acting as her go-between.
Tom cleared his throat.
Instead of looking at him, Evie dropped her eyes to her hands and inspected her nails.
“Do you know what strikes me as odd, detective?” she asked.
“What’s that, my lady?”
“We live in one of the prettiest villages in Berkshire, with award winning gardens and yet no one plants foxglove. It’s almost a quintessential cottage garden plant, but no one cultivates it. Mr. Winchester and I had developed a theory about the plant. However, now we have doubts.”
“There are other poisonous plants besides that one.” Detective Inspector O’Neill stopped himself from saying more by changing the subject. “There is one key person missing from the timeline of events.”
Edgar walked in carrying the tea tray.
“I think once word spreads about your search, someone will come forward.” In the meantime, she would pay Charlie Timms one final visit and ask h
im to provide the exact times his lovers had visited.
Tom shifted and, in the process, he drew Evie’s attention to him in time to see his lifted eyebrow. Had he read her mind? Did he mean to prompt her into naming Charlie Timms?
Accepting a cup of tea, the detective took one sip and set the cup down. “There is one more thing. I hesitate to mention it but I fear I must. The committee ladies have expressed concerns about you. I have tried to dissuade them from believing they are in any danger from you, all to no avail. I’m afraid they have asked that you stay away from them.”
Evie’s lips parted but she failed to find the right words to convey her shock.
She had been labeled a threat?
Chapter Twenty-One
Led down the garden path
“I almost felt sorry for the detective. He looked tired. Did you notice? He has a hard task ahead of him and, while I don’t mean to be harsh, it’s his job to wade through the list of suspects.”
Tom slipped his hands inside his pockets and whistled a tune under his breath.
“Is there something you wish to say?” Evie asked.
“Are you trying to justify your decision to withhold information from him?”
“There’s no need to do that. I’ve already explained. There are enough people spreading rumors around. I should like to get my facts straight before making any statements to the police. Besides, it’s his job to round up suspects. Who am I to interfere?” She waited to see if she could get away with the remark or if Tom would remind her how much prodding she had done only recently.
“What if his entire investigation hinges on talking with Charlie Timms?” When she didn’t answer, Tom shrugged. “You’ve done this before.”
“What?”
“Bided your time. Waited for the right moment to share information and it nearly got the Duke of Heatherington killed.”
Evie groaned. Recently, she had delayed passing on some vital information to her friend, Bicky, the Duke of Heatherington, and he had ended up being shot. That time, she had been concerned about breeching protocols. One simply did not barge into a duke’s home and burst into a bout of hysterics over an incident that might not even have been an incident.