by Sonia Parin
Abby didn’t know if she should blame her lack of sleep or lack of food for the stray thoughts whizzing around her mind. Right from out of nowhere, she imagined people clambering up the fire escape ladder outside her window to peer at her crime board. She brushed her hands across her face and considered slapping herself awake.
Faith grabbed her arm. “Please, say yes. Please.”
“Huh? Oh, yes.”
“I never imagined I’d live in a house as grand as this one.” Faith swirled around.
“Um, Faith. I don’t want to be the one to burst your bubble of joy, but we’re sort of here to try to find a murderer.”
If the butler, who had introduced himself as Wadsworth, had any opinions about Faith’s behavior, he kept them to himself.
“On behalf of Lord Granger, welcome to Willoughby Park.”
“Lord Granger?” Abby asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I had no idea he had a title.”
“His Lordship has made a point of trying to fit into the local community. In deference to my long service in his employ, he allows me to address him as Lord Granger.”
“I see,” Abby said. Although, she really didn’t. “A Lord… I thought as the third son he didn’t have any titles.”
“He has acquired several hereditary titles from his uncle.” The butler lifted his chin. “The 15th Viscount of Trenthenton, 20th Baron Willoughby from which this park is named. Lord Granger was very fond of his uncle, Ernest Granger, 19th Baron Willoughby. In reality, he should be addressed as Lord Willoughby or Lord Trenthenton, but that would only cause confusion as everyone knows him as Charles Granger.”
“Do we curtsey?” Faith asked. “He never said anything about having titles. In fact, we were all under the impression he didn’t have any.”
“Lord Granger does not wish to boast.” The edge of the butler’s lip lifted.
Clearly, the man rather enjoyed boasting on his employer’s behalf.
Faith whispered, “So… do I curtsey or not?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Abby said.
“If you follow me, please. Your rooms have been prepared. They face the lake and have an adjoining door. You’ll find provisions have also been made for Master Doyle.”
“Huh? Who?” Doyle flapped his tail against Abby’s leg.
They were led up the stairs and along a wide hallway with doors on either side. The butler ushered them into a splendid room complete with a canopied bed, a fainting couch and a fireplace.
Faith pointed to a mini canopied bed. “That must be for Master Doyle.”
Doyle took a tentative step toward it and sniffed the air. After a moment, he strode around it and poked his little head inside. Finding it to his liking, he leaped inside and, moments later, poked his little head out from between thick velvet curtains.
“He appears to approve,” Abby said.
The butler opened an adjoining door. “This is your bedchamber, Miss O’Keefe.”
“He means you, Faith.”
“Once you have settled in, you may make your way down to the ballroom. It has been transformed into your headquarters.”
Faith cleared her throat. “Um… And if one might actually wish for some refreshments, what might one need to do?”
Mr. Wadsworth gave a small nod. “One might ring for it. Lunch will be served at noon.”
Faith waited for the butler to leave and close the door before taking a leap and flopping onto the canopied bed. “Can you believe this place? Last night we dined and danced here and today, we’re settling in. Just call me Cinderella. Do you think I could marry a prince?”
“Can you ask me again later when I’ve had lunch? I’m not sure I can trust what comes out of my mouth.”
“In other words, no fat chance.”
“Come on, let’s go down and inspect our headquarters.”
“You said that with a serious face. That’s the spirit.”
Abby would have rolled her eyes but they still felt droopy. “Are you coming, Doyle?”
“I think he’s pretending to be asleep.” Faith peered inside the little canopied bed. “Nope. He’s actually fast asleep.”
“We’ll leave him to it.”
As they made their way downstairs, Faith asked, “Do you think we’ll be expected to change for lunch? I might have to rush back home and get more clothes.”
“I think we’ll be fine. Charles isn’t a snob.” She strode into the ballroom and stopped. “Wow.” Two large couches had been placed opposite the fireplace with a coffee table in-between. Abby assumed the furniture had been removed for the ball. At one end, they had a work table, a couple of laptops and a whiteboard. The photos Joshua had organized for her sat in a box. The butler had thought of everything. Including a doggy bed for Doyle, which he’d placed next to the fireplace.
“I think we should be thorough and leave no stone unturned. This might take us weeks,” Faith said.
“Sorry, I’m going to have to be a killjoy.” Abby picked up a marker and wrote Marigold’s name on the whiteboard. “Okay. Start giving me names of people associated with Marigold.”
“Harry and Harriet.”
“Do we know if her mom is still alive?” Abby asked.
Faith nodded. “She retired and moved away from town several years ago.”
“What about friends? People from her youth she might have kept in contact with.”
Faith picked up a marker and began writing. “Jealousy. Revenge. Greed. We could work backward. Start with motive and find a suspect. Harry Winthrop might be guilty of greed because he doesn’t want to cough up a large divorce settlement.”
Abby nodded. “Sebastian said Harry didn’t issue divorce papers but what if Marigold wanted to ditch her husband? He’d have to pay her alimony.”
“We have different rules for divorce here. Everything is split down the middle,” Faith said.
Abby folded her arms and looked at the whiteboard. “That might be the case for regular folk, but I’m guessing wealthy people have other arrangements which include pre-nuptial agreements. Joshua will have access to that information so we should focus on what we can find without treading on anyone’s toes.”
Hearing the sound of someone clearing their throat, Abby turned and saw the butler holding Doyle in his arms.
“I heard Master Doyle whimpering and scratching the door.”
“I’m so sorry,” Abby said. “I hope he didn’t cause any damage.”
“Not at all.” The butler set him down
Looking over his shoulder, Doyle scurried toward her. “Thank you, Mr. Wadsworth.”
“Wadsworth will suffice, ma’am.”
When he left, Abby turned to Faith. “How come I get ma’am and you get Miss? And I thought the British only used ma’am to refer to the Queen.”
“He might be making concessions for your background. Don’t Americans use ma’am?”
“It depends.” Abby sighed. “If you’re a Southerner or Midwesterner, yes. It’s not really used on the east or west coast.”
“You’re from Iowa. That’s in the Midwest.”
“Yes, all right. Enough already.”
“If you don’t like it, you should tell him,” Faith suggested. “He corrected you. Would you like me to run after him and say you prefer to be referred to as Miss?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Faith strode up to the whiteboard and scrawled the butler’s name on it.
“Really?”
“Why not? I’d love to be able to say, the butler did it.” Faith added a thick line under his name.
Moments later, Wadsworth returned to announce lunch would be served in the conservatory. Seeing his name on the whiteboard, his eyebrows rose and then, to Abby’s surprise, he smiled.
Chapter Eleven
Charles joined them for lunch and regaled them with stories about the morning’s rambling.
“I had to get out and clear my head. To think I almost gave up on taking my dai
ly walks. The first time I went rambling around the estate, I ventured into the surrounding forest and heard what sounded like a bear. My survival instincts kicked in and I headed up the hill. I’d only been living in the country for a short while. For two months, I actually believed we had wild bears roaming around the estate. Then Joyce Breeland set me right and told me I’d actually heard a koala bear most likely grumbling because I’d been trespassing on his territory. I’d never have imagined such cuddly creatures could sound so ferocious.”
When Wadsworth finished serving their main course and withdrew, Charles leaned in and whispered, “You’ve made his day. He rather likes the idea of being a suspect.”
“We thought it might cheer him up,” Abby said around a mouthful of quiche.
Charles pushed his chair back and stood up. “Here’s Kelly. I asked my assistant to join us for lunch.” He drew a chair out for her and, once she’d settled down, he sat down again.
Wadsworth appeared and got busy at a side table preparing a plate for her.
While Abby lowered her head and focused on her meal, Faith took a sip of water and asked, “Did you notice anyone gate-crashing the event?”
Kelly shrugged. “There were so many guests…” She slanted her gaze toward Abby.
If she meant to convey a message, Abby missed it completely. She could only assume Kelly knew Abby had not been on the list…
“What about the serving staff?” Faith asked.
“We engaged the services of a reputable catering company and they organized the servers.”
“How long ago did you organize that?”
“I’d have to check my diary.”
“Didn’t Joshua say Marigold hadn’t ingested the poison?” Charles asked.
“True.” Faith tapped her chin. “I’m thinking the perpetrator might have wanted to be close to the murder scene and watch his plan unfold. It might have been easier to gain employment as a waiter than to actually gate-crash the event.” Leaning forward, Faith tried again. “Did you recognize anyone at the party who should not have been there?”
“I’ll go through the list again,” Kelly offered.
Once again, her eyes met Abby’s.
“When Marigold arrived, everyone’s attention turned to her,” Faith said. “I saw you fleeting around. Did you hear anything that might have sounded odd?”
When Kelly shook her head, Faith added, “Perhaps I’ll go through the guest list myself.”
Enough with the guest list, Abby thought…
Faith shifted in her chair. “How long have you been working for Charles?”
Kelly gave a nervous laugh. “Am I under suspicion?”
“No, Abby and I like to give everyone the shakedown.”
“That’s something to look forward to,” Charles said, his tone jovial.
Faith turned to Charles and grinned. “Perhaps we should start with you. Where were you when Marigold arrived?”
Charles sat back and looked up at the ceiling. “Let me think.”
“No, don’t think,” Faith warned. “Just tell us the first thing that comes to mind.”
“Heavens, this reminds me of an inkblot test I did once… I made the rounds and commended everyone on a job well done. Then, Kelly told me a phone call I’d been expecting had come through. Instead of taking it in my study downstairs, I made my way upstairs to my room and that’s when I bumped into Marigold.”
Abby frowned. That would have been well before the other guests had arrived.
“I should explain,” Kelly offered, “Marigold Winthrop arrived in the afternoon. Charles had offered her a room for the day so she could prepare.”
Both Abby and Faith sat back. “Does Joshua know this?” they both asked.
Charles nodded. “Yes, of course.”
So, why hadn’t he shared that information? “Is there a particular reason why Marigold needed a room here?”
Charles picked up his glass of wine and drank deeply. “She’d had a slight disagreement with Harry.”
“I assume the police did a thorough search of the room,” Faith said.
“Yes. They were there early this morning.”
That meant anyone could have accessed the room during the night to clear away vital evidence. Abby mulled over the thought.
Faith must have been thinking along the same lines. “Did you lock the door during the night?”
“No, we had no reason to.”
Because the night before no one had suspected foul play. At least, not with any degree of certainty, Abby thought.
Faith turned her attention back to Kelly. “How long have you been working for Charles?”
“You already asked that,” Abby murmured.
“One year… or thereabouts.”
“And where did you work before coming here?”
“I can provide a copy of my resume,” Kelly offered. Pushing her chair back, she said she needed to get back to work and left.
Faith looked down at her plate. “I hope I didn’t say anything to make her uncomfortable.”
“Do you think we could have a look at the room Marigold used?” Abby asked.
“Absolutely. Just ask Wadsworth and he’ll show you through.”
Abby looked over her shoulder and saw the butler hovering nearby. “How long has Wadsworth been with you?”
Charles chortled. “Since my youth. I poached him from my father and I would trust him with my life.”
Yes, but… Could others say the same?
“What’s on your mind?” Charles asked.
“I’m thinking about overly protective employees safeguarding their employer’s wellbeing to the point of committing murder.” Marigold had come to stay at Willoughby Park, presumably for the night. What if the butler had seen her as a threat? Wadsworth would be set in his ways and quite possibly attached to the idea of Charles being a bachelor. What if Wadsworth wanted to maintain the status quo? If he thought Marigold had been on the lookout for husband number two, he might have taken matters into his own hands.
Charles looked up. “Well, Wadsworth? What do you have to say to that?”
Wadsworth stepped forward. “I believe my whereabouts can be fully accounted for.” He grinned. “If Miss Maguire suspects me of any wrongdoing, I’ll be happy to provide proof. Or, if she wishes, she may subject me to a thorough shakedown.”
Abby looked up at him. “Did you notice anyone acting suspiciously?”
Wadsworth lifted one eyebrow.
Anyone other than a certain someone who gate-crashed the event, Abby thought.
“I can’t say that I did, ma’am. I can assure you, I kept my eye on everyone’s comings and goings. It is a butler’s duty to oversee the running of a household and ensure everything runs smoothly and without a glitch.” He gave a firm nod. “If that is all, I’d like to serve dessert.”
“Yes, yes. That’s all, Wadsworth. Thank you.” Charles leaned forward. “I trust him implicitly but I think he rather enjoyed that. Thanks, Abby.”
“I don’t know,” Faith said. “There’s something shifty about him. He came across as far too eager to co-operate. He might be trying to throw us off the scent.”
Charles grinned. “I’ll let him know you said so.”
Kelly strode in and handed Faith a folder. “I’ve printed out the guest list. I’ve also included a list of all the catering staff.”
“Fabulous. Can you tell us how long Marigold spent in her room?” Faith asked.
“She arrived at five in the afternoon.”
“Did she ring for anything?” Faith asked.
“She wanted some mineral water taken up. At five thirty, her personal assistant arrived.”
“Aha! What’s her name?”
“Helen Forbes.”
Faith flipped through the list. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us. An entire town under suspicion.”
“I’ve gone through the list twice now and I recognize everyone’s name.” Tapping her pen on the table, Faith added, “Stil
l, I get the feeling I’m missing something obvious.”
Abby had no idea what Joshua had been thinking when he’d recruited her. Just because she’d stumbled on some information in the past didn’t mean she excelled at digging around for clues.
“You’ve been very quiet. What’s going on?” Faith asked. “You’re not still annoyed because I dragged you out of bed so early.”
“No, I’m over that.” Although, she still felt slightly sluggish. “You won’t believe this. I’m still craving those blueberry pancakes and… I promised Joyce I’d give her an update.” Abby pushed back her chair and stretched. “I’m going out for a drive. Hopefully, that will clear my head and I’ll come back with some ideas.”
“You do that. I’m going to scour through this list again. I feel there’s something blatantly obvious staring me in the face.”
Doyle looked far too comfortable in his doggy bed to disturb. So, Abby left him to it.
On her way into town, she replayed the events of the night before and thought Marigold’s personal assistant might be able to give them an insight into how Marigold felt before making her public appearance. She must have shown signs…
Hearing her cell phone ringing, she pulled over and checked the caller I.D.
“Hello, Joshua.”
“You’re not at Willoughby Park. What’s going?”
Instead of answering, Abby asked, “Have you spoken with Helen Forbes?” Instinctively, she knew Joshua had brushed his hand across his brow trying to place the name. “Marigold’s personal assistant,” Abby added.
“Thanks for the prompt but I was just wondering how you happened to know the name.”
“Oh, I have Faith to thank for that. She fired off some questions at lunch time. That’s how we found out Marigold had stayed at Willoughby Park before the ball, by the way, thanks for telling me. Oh, and that reminds me, did you find anything in her room?”
“Have you been drinking coffee? You’re tripping over your words.”
“I’m sleep deprived. Sorry.” Abby nibbled on the tip of her thumb. With Faith sleeping next door to her, she might not get any shuteye tonight either.