by V. M. Burns
“You may be right. War with Germany will come to these shores, but you and Herr Hitler have underestimated the British resolve. We will fight and keep on fighting. We will not stop until we are victorious.” Winston’s voice rang with fervor and strength. “Now go. You’ve got what you came for.” Winston pointed toward the door.
John Amery stood for a few seconds but then closed the satchel and ran out the doorway.
Detective Inspector Covington hurried to pursue him but was halted in his tracks when Winston reached out and grabbed him by the arm.
“He’s getting away,” the detective yelled.
Winston inclined his head in the direction of Leopold Amery, who sat stunned with his head in his hands. “Which is worse, Detective, that a guilty man go free or that an innocent man should pay for a crime he did not commit?”
Detective Inspector Covington shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sworn to uphold the law and that’s what I intend to do.” He wrenched his arm free and hurried from the room.
The house was in chaos as police came and went. Randolph went to his room with a bottle of scotch. Everyone else waited in the drawing room. Leopold Amery looked as white as a sheet. Winston ordered him to drink a brandy. His hand shook as he put the glass to his lips.
The only time he spoke was to mutter, “My son . . . my own son.”
After nearly an hour, Detective Inspector Covington came into the drawing room. He walked in front of Leo Amery and stopped. He removed his hat and looked down. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you the body of your son was found at the pond at the crossroads at Four Elms by the junction of Pootings Road.”
Leopold stared at the detective and then muttered, “Thank God.” And burst into tears.
Sergeant Turnbull and Thompkins helped him out of the room.
“So, you shot him?” Winston asked.
Detective Inspector Covington shook his head. “No, sir. It wasn’t us. At least, it doesn’t appear to be the police that shot him.”
“Then who?” James asked.
Detective Inspector Covington shrugged. “We’re still investigating. However, he was found with a black mask laying next to him.”
Winston choked on his drink.
Mrs. Churchill dropped her teacup and the china cup shattered.
“A black mask?” Winston asked. “Interesting.”
“What’s this about a mask?” Lord William asked.
Winston poured a brandy and his hand shook slightly. He took a drink. “There’s a tale of the murder of Mr. John Humphrey back in 1908. Mr. Humphrey was a rich farmer. He and his two companions stopped for a drink at the George and Dragon after spending the day at the market. The three men left together, but Mr. Key ran into an acquaintance and stopped to talk. Mr. Holmden and Mr. Humphrey walked on alone. They came to Mr. Holmden’s farm first and he bid his friend a good-night.” He sipped more brandy. “Mr. Humphrey walked on alone to his farm at Hever Castle. Around ten, Mr. Holmden heard a shot coming from the Four Elms. Mr. Key claimed to have heard the same thing. At the crossroads for the Four Elms, Mr. Key ran to the spot, where he found Mr. Humphrey, shot and beaten. He raised the alarm and got help. They took Mr. Humphrey to a nearby pub, but his wounds were too grave. He died the next day.” Winston paused. “Before he passed, he claimed he was robbed at the Four Elms. The villain shot him and then bludgeoned him with the butt of his gun. He was found with a black mask lying nearby.”
The group was silent for several seconds.
Daphne shuddered. “Did they ever find the man?”
Winston shook his head.
Detective Inspector Covington snorted. “Got away or else it was one of those so-called friends, if you ask me. Mr. Key, indeed.”
Detective Inspector Covington stood up as though he were about to leave, but Winston held up a hand.
Before he could speak, Thompkins entered and announced, “Reverend Waitstill and Martha Sharp.”
A tall, slim, haggard couple entered. They looked to be in their early thirties.
Winston stepped forward and extended his hand. “Reverend Waitstill.” He shook the minister’s hand. “Mrs. Sharp. I am so glad you could make it.” He shook the hand she extended.
Winston introduced them around the room. He took the most care when introducing the couple to Detective Inspector Covington. The pair looked dazed when all of the introductions were completed. They declined a drink.
“You must be very tired after your long trip from America. So, we will not keep you longer than is necessary.” Winston looked at James, who left the room briefly and returned with a small bag. He handed the bag to the couple, who thanked him profusely.
The couple clutched the bag and rose. “Please excuse us. We still have a long way to go.”
“Of course, but perhaps you would like to stay overnight and leave in the morning?”
The couple declined. They were boarding a ship scheduled to cross the channel very early the next day. After several more expressions of gratitude, the couple left.
“What was that all about?” Mrs. Churchill asked.
Winston turned to Detective Inspector Covington. “That was the reason why John Amery may be many things, but a thief he is not.”
Detective Inspector Covington’s eyes got wide and he opened his mouth, but Winston held up a hand.
“James, perhaps you would care to explain.”
James stood up. “Reverend Waitstill and Martha Sharp are missionaries from the Unitarian church. They have agreed to travel to Czechoslovakia to help with the paperwork so Jews can leave the country and travel to the United States and other countries open to immigration. Mrs. Sharp is a social worker. A donation was made to help them with their work, a donation of art. It should be easy enough to sell when they get abroad and less conspicuous than British currency.”
“Less conspicuous and harder to connect to the British government?” Lady Elizabeth asked.
Winston smiled. “You’re a shrewd woman.”
“That’s why you’re here.” Lady Elizabeth turned to Anthony Blunt, who bowed his head.
“Mr. Churchill asked if I would value the art,” Mr. Blunt said.
“But if that’s the art, then what did John Amery take?” Lord William asked.
“I thought someone was following me when I came back from London with the paintings. So, I made a little switch.” James smiled.
“James came to me and we exchanged the valuable paintings he had with several of my own.” Winston smiled. “I wonder what Herr Hitler would have thought of those.”
Detective Inspector Covington said, “You mean Amery committed murder and risked hanging for a few worthless paintings?”
Winston chomped on his cigar. “I consider the paintings a gift. With any luck, it’ll be as close as Herr Hitler ever gets to this British countryside.”
The next day, Randolph, Guy Burgess, and Anthony Blunt left early. Winston and Lord William were enjoying a game of Bezique at a table near the window. Lady Elizabeth sat on the sofa knitting. Mrs. Churchill sat near Lady Elizabeth and chatted. Daphne sat on a chair near the window with a book and Tango curled up on her lap. Lady Alistair and James entered the room.
James walked to Daphne and dropped to one knee.
His intentions were obvious, and Daphne was so startled, she dislodged Tango and dropped her book.
James picked up the book and tossed it aside. He clasped Daphne’s hands. “Darling, I love you with all of my heart. Will you please do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”
Daphne gasped. She tried to remove her hands, but James held them.
“I should tell you I don’t intend to take no for an answer.”
“James, I—”
“Oh, and just so you know, I got the report on the powder Jessica slipped in your tea the night you behaved so . . . oddly.”
“What?”
“Your aunt found it in her handbag and I had it analyzed. It was a drug called Pervitin.” He stared a
t Daphne. “That’s why you acted so strange that night. There’s nothing wrong with you, except you were drugged.” He scowled. “If Amery hadn’t killed her, I might have strangled her myself.”
Lady Alistair walked up behind James and smiled. “I want to add that I have already given James my blessing. I would be honored to have you as a member of our family.”
Daphne stared from one to the other. She looked at her aunt, who smiled, then turned to her uncle, who tried to hide the twitching at his lips.
“I gave my blessing last month when he asked for your hand,” Lord William said.
“Well?” James searched Daphne’s face.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she whispered, “Yes.”
James stood, took Daphne into his arms, and kissed her.
When the two parted, Winston clapped James on the back. “It’s about bloody time.”
He bent down and kissed Daphne on the cheek, and then he walked over and rang for the butler. Within seconds, Thompkins entered.
“Bring a couple bottles of Pol Roger, Thompkins. We’re celebrating.”
Thompkins nodded. The butler returned quickly with two bottles of champagne and several glasses. He popped the cork, poured the champagne, and distributed the glasses.
When everyone had a glass, Winston held up a glass. “A toast. Long life and many blessings. May your lives together be full of love, mystery, and adventure.”
Chapter 23
When I finished writing, I took another nap. When I woke up, it was dark outside. There was a knock on the door.
“Sam,” Nana Jo said.
I got up and opened the door.
She looked around. “Where’s your suitcase?”
“I haven’t packed yet.”
Nana Jo looked shocked. “Not packed? Why not? Our bus leaves in a few hours.”
“But, it’s only Monday. We don’t leave until Wednesday. I have a whole day.”
She looked at me as if my elevator didn’t go to the top floor. “You slept through Monday. It’s now Tuesday morning. I have a performance in a few hours and then our bus leaves immediately afterward. I have to be in New York on Wednesday for rehearsal and you’re meeting with your agent on Wednesday for lunch.”
My days were mixed up. I hurried to find my suitcase and tossed clothes in as fast as I could. Nana Jo helped and, in less than thirty minutes, I had a suitcase and a carry-on packed. I wasn’t sure if I had all of the essentials, but Nana Jo reassured me whatever I forgot we could pick up in New York.
Dawson and the twins were already downstairs when we lugged our suitcase down and helped to get everything in the car. I hugged everyone and gave the poodles an extra cuddle. As we walked out the door, I turned and took one last look around my bookstore. Christopher and Zaq were helping customers while Dawson made sure the baked goods were out and then pulled a box of books from the back room and began stocking the shelves. When I looked at my helpers and the new friends the bookstore had brought into my life, I smiled. I couldn’t believe it had been less than a year since I walked around the empty store, wondering if I was making a mistake by quitting my job to open a mystery bookstore. Now, I couldn’t imagine my life without it. I said a quick prayer and whispered a thank-you to Leon for the push. I thought about how empty my life was after Leon’s death. I looked around at all of the people that now filled the empty spaces of my life and added excitement to my days. Life wasn’t easy, but it was, indeed, an adventure worth taking. A quote from Winston Churchill popped in my head.
Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and the glory of the climb.
—Sir Winston Churchill
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of the next Mystery Bookshop Mystery
WED, READ & DEAD
coming soon wherever print and e-books are sold!
Chapter 1
“If you don’t get your fanny out of that dressing room in the next thirty seconds, I’ll come in and drag you out.”
I recognized the tone in my grandmother’s voice well enough to realize she meant business. Three hours of trying on every bubble-gum-pink bridesmaid dress in South Harbor’s one and only wedding shop had left all of us in a foul mood. I took one last look at my reflection in the mirror and resigned myself to my fate. The hoopskirt under my ballroom gown was so large I had to turn sideways and wiggle to get through the dressing room door, but given this was the seventh or eighth dress I’d tried on, I had mastered the technique fairly well.
In the main viewing area at the back of the large store, I walked up the two stairs and stood atop the platform designed to look like a wedding cake to showcase the dresses to loved ones. I stood atop the platform of shame and waited for the laughter I knew was inevitable.
My timing was impeccable. Three other brides and their guests had just walked to the back of the store, so my audience had tripled since my last humiliation. I heard snickers and one guffaw from the store personnel. Initially, the sales consultants had contained their reaction much the same as the Queen’s guard outside of Buckingham Palace, not showing one iota of a smile. However, three dresses ago that all changed. Now, they smiled and snickered openly.
My grandmother, Nana Jo, and my mother, the impending bride and source of my current embarrassment, sat on a comfy sofa sipping champagne. Nana Jo had just taken a sip when she looked up and saw my latest ensemble.
Nana Jo snorted and champagne squirted from her nose. “You look like a giant pink piñata.”
I turned and stomped down the stairs and headed back to my dressing room.
In between the laughter, my mom said in a confused voice, “I don’t understand it. It looked so cute on the hanger.”
I squeezed back into the dressing room, caring little if this satin and tulle monstrosity got snagged or not. My sales consultant helped me get out of the dress while she avoided making eye contact. I suspected a few of the chuckles I’d heard had come from her, although I couldn’t be sure.
“Your mom has a very distinct taste.” She picked the pink piñata off the floor and made sure it was returned to its protective plastic.
“You can say that again.” I took a drink from the glass of champagne she’d snagged for me after I’d walked out in a hot pink version of the velvet draperies Scarlett O’Hara had fashioned into a ball gown in Gone with the Wind. “How many more?”
I should have been suspicious when she didn’t respond and quickly turned away, but I was too busy texting my missing sister, Jenna, who’d managed to back out of today’s humiliation by declaring she had an important legal brief to write. Her day would come and revenge would be sweet. When I turned around and saw the next fluffy pink concoction, I nearly spit my champagne. Instead, I grabbed the champagne bottle and took a long swig.
The eighth, or was it ninth, dress was a tight-fitting mermaid-style gown with a super tight sequined gold bodice layered to look like scales that went down my hips to my knees and then the fluffy tulle skirt expanded in waves into a long train of pink, which puddled at my feet. I didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. One look at the sales consultant’s face told me everything I needed to know. From her raised eyebrows to the twitching lips, I knew I looked absolutely ridiculous. I contemplated taking it off and refusing to wear it out of the dressing room, but it was the last one. I might as well get it over with.
Mermaid dresses looked great on tall women, but I was only about five feet three, so the tight part of the dress fell lower on me. The sequined upper part of the gown was so tight I couldn’t open my legs to walk and had to shuffle out of the dressing room. Climbing the stairs to get atop the platform required the help of two sales consultants and a great deal of tilting on my part.
Nana Jo laughed so hard and so long, she started gasping for breath and tears rolled from h
er face. My mom just stared at me as though I truly had just crawled out of the sea.
“Look, we’ve been at this for over three hours. I’m tired and hungry and my patience has waned,” I announced to anyone listening.
I was about to turn and shuffle back to the dressing room when I looked up and saw my mom’s fiancé, Harold Robertson, and my friend-who-is-more-than-a-friend, Frank Patterson, gawking at me from behind my mom’s chair.
“You’re just hungry, dear. I’m sure you’ll feel better after you eat something. That’s why I invited Harold and Frank to meet us for lunch.” Mom smiled.
I stared openmouthed into Frank’s eyes and saw the look of shock and mirth he tried to hide reflected back at me. I’d endured ridicule and degradation from my family and complete strangers, however, Frank Patterson was different. It had taken quite a while after my husband Leon’s death before I was even ready to entertain the idea of a male friend, let alone a romantic relationship. So, I wasn’t quite ready for Frank to see me in all of my mermaid glory.
I took a step backward in my haste to find a place to hide and tumbled off the back of the platform. My only consolation was if I’d still been wearing a ball gown with a Gone with the Wind hoopskirt, when I fell on my rear, my dress would have lifted like the rear hatch of my SUV. Instead, the long flowing train got wrapped around my feet and I lay trapped on my back like a mummy.
I didn’t believe Nana Jo could have laughed harder, but she managed. After my first few seconds of stunned embarrassment, where I flopped and wiggled around on the floor like a fish out of water, Frank’s arms went around my waist as he lifted me to my feet.
Once I was upright, I made the mistake of trying to walk and realized my legs were still trapped and nearly toppled over again. Thankfully, Frank was still there and grabbed me before I fell again. His soft brown eyes sparkled and his lips twitched as though a laugh was just seconds away.