Death by the Book (4 page)

“I say, that was quite a shocker at the golf course, wasn’t it?” Nick removed Drew’s clubs from the Rolls and slung them over his shoulder. “And we just missed it.”

Drew got out of the car, and the two of them walked up the path from the garage to the house.

“What happened to all of you anyway?” Drew asked.

“Bunny’s new motor car punked out on him, and by the
time he had it going again and we got to the course, the police wouldn’t let anyone in.” Nick grinned. “Bunny was so distraught about his precious car, Roger had to take him round to Barbie Chalfont’s for drinks. I made them drop me here first so I could get the details right off.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t many details on the case so far. I even went with Birdsong to the doctor’s surgery to see if anyone working for him knew of any reason he’d be murdered. It was just the one nurse and a girl at reception, and they neither of them had any clue. So, such as it is, you know Madeline is going to want to know every detail so far too, and I’d as lief tell you two vampires both at the same time.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Nick looked round and then lowered his voice. “It seems dear Auntie isn’t letting Madeline out of her sight these days, and I doubt it would increase her fondness of you if you were to bring such lurid tales to her niece’s attention.”

“I suppose you’re right, though I did want to talk to both of you about what’s happened. There’s certainly something odd going on, and I had hoped that, between the three of us, we might make some sense of it.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “They said there was a note on this one, too.”

“Yes. It said, ‘Kentish wisdom would have him paid so.’”

“That’s worse than the first one. Any ideas on what it means?”

“No.” Drew shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t suppose Auntie is feeling any more charitably toward me, is she?”

“She’s been relatively quiet as far as I can tell. She’s in the library with Madeline. Knitting or crocheting or whatever it is old ladies do.”

“Crocheting lace, I expect. Was it white?”

Nick nodded. “What I saw of it.”

“Crocheting, I should think. Madeline’s learning it. I didn’t really know what it was either, but she seems to enjoy it. Best not bring up that bit about old ladies, though.”

Nick smirked. “I see you’ve already made that mistake.”

By then they had reached the French doors that led to the library. Open doors. Drew put one finger to his lips and then, removing his hat, went inside.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Hard at work, I see.”

Madeline and Aunt Ruth both glanced up from their spools of white thread and tiny metal crochet hooks. Madeline looked particularly fetching, her dark hair a soft frame for her lovely face, her long legs tucked gracefully under her, and her slender hands nimble and skillful as they worked.

There was a sparkle in her periwinkle-blue eyes as she set down the lacy little piece of fluff in her hands. “Hello there.”

Aunt Ruth continued counting for another few seconds. Then she too stopped work and peered at Drew over her steel-rimmed glasses.

“We weren’t expecting you back until later this afternoon.”

“Didn’t end up playing actually, ma’am. The course was closed suddenly.”

“So that’s what they do when there’s a murder, eh?”

Drew glanced at Madeline. “You’ve heard about it, I see.”

“It’s all the talk evidently.” Madeline shrugged in helpless apology. “Anna heard it from the grocery boy, who had the story from one of the caddies out there who was kind of put out because he doesn’t make any money when the course is closed. Anyway, Anna was telling Beryl about it, and Aunt Ruth heard them talking.”

“Good thing I did, too.” Aunt Ruth came to what was appar
ently a stopping point and set down her work. “I don’t suppose you were going to bother to tell us there is a killer at large? I say it’s an insult to your guests to make them get important news from the help.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Drew said. “Either of you. And it’s nothing to be worried about. The police are seeing to everything, and I’m sure they’ll catch whoever’s done it before long.”

Aunt Ruth snorted. “What kind of a place is this? I haven’t been here a week and already you’re involved in two murders.” She arched one eyebrow at him. “That we know of.”

“Not involved actually.”

“Not involved? Hah. They seem to follow you around. If you ask me, there’s something—”

She broke off with a muffled shriek as her crocheted lace, hook, and ball of thread careened off the coffee table and disappeared under the sofa.

“Oh, dear.” Drew tossed his hat onto the table and dropped down to his hands and knees. “Nick, cut him off before he gets out the door with it.”

Aunt Ruth drew her feet up off the floor. “What is it?”

“It’s all right, ma’am. Nick, get the thread and other things. Be careful, you idiot.”

“What
is
it?” Aunt Ruth demanded, and Drew finally managed to pull a struggling Mr. Chambers out from under the sofa by the scruff of his neck. The little white kitten squirmed, batting his paws in midair, claws extended, emerald eyes wild.

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Jansen. He doesn’t mean any—”

“Give him to me.”

Before Drew could protest, she snatched Mr. Chambers from his hands and sat him on the sofa beside her. Then, before the rascal could leap away, she tickled the back of his head with
a black tassel from her jacket. He attacked it with his entire little body, holding it in his front paws as he kicked it, rapid fire, with the back.

Still on his knees, Drew could only watch in amazement as Madeline’s formidable maiden aunt played with the kitten. He glanced at Madeline, but she was smiling on the unlikely pair too and didn’t notice. With Aunt Ruth’s face softened that way, Drew could see something of a resemblance between her and her niece. Perhaps she really had been lovely in her day.

Abruptly the woman glared at him. “Well?”

He scrambled to his feet. “I, uh—”

“I’m terribly sorry about your lace, ma’am.” Nick offered up the wadded tangle of thread he had rescued.

Aunt Ruth merely pursed her lips. “Oh, just put it down there on the table. It won’t take a minute to fix it.” She looked down at Mr. Chambers, her face softening once more. “He didn’t hurt anything, did he? No. No, he didn’t.”

She wiggled her fingers under his fuzzy chin, and he immediately abandoned the tassel and wrapped all four paws round her wrist. She made some little clicking noises with her tongue and started scratching his neck. After a few halfhearted kicks, the kitten closed his eyes and began to purr.

Drew shook his head. “I’ve never seen him take to anyone quite that way, ma’am. You’re a wonder.”

“How is it I’ve been here a week and didn’t know you had a kitten in the house?”

Drew shrugged. “I suppose I didn’t want him inconveniencing anyone.”

“Poppycock. As if the angel could be an inconvenience.” She narrowed her eyes at Drew. “I thought all you Englishmen had huge, slobbery dogs running around everywhere.”

“We have them in the stables and about the estate. The gardener has one too, but we don’t typically keep them inside. My mother didn’t care for them in the house.”

“She must have been a sensible woman.”

Drew and Nick exchanged glances. Before her death, Constance had been described in a variety of ways, but
sensible
was not a word that was commonly used. Still, since her policy regarding the estate’s dogs was one of the few things of which Aunt Ruth seemed to approve, Drew did not contradict the notion. Aunt Ruth seemed to have given her wholehearted approval of Mr. Chambers as well, despite his destruction of her lacework, and Drew silently blessed the fuzzy little beggar for it.

“He’s a darling.” Madeline beamed at the kitten as it basked in her aunt’s attentions. “He was born the day I came here. Isn’t that sweet?”

“I didn’t suppose he dropped out of the sky,” Aunt Ruth said. “Where’s his mother?”

“Oh, she’s about the grounds somewhere,” Drew assured her. “Now that the kittens are weaned, she stays out a bit more. She’s quite a hunter.”

“And the rest of the little ones?”

“In good homes nearby, but I just couldn’t part with old Chambers here.”

“Chambers?” The old lady scowled at him. “What kind of a name is that?”

“Mr. Chambers, actually. I named him after my old Latin professor.”

Aunt Ruth shook her head. “Not a very sensible name for a cat.”

Drew wasn’t quite sure how to make amends for his shortcomings in feline appellations, but he was rescued when Denny appeared in the doorway with a decorous cough.

“Are you at home to a Mrs. Montford, sir?”

He presented Drew with a silver tray containing a tasteful, engraved calling card.
Mrs. Q. 
C. Montford
.

Drew glanced at Madeline and then nodded. “By all means, Denny. Show her in.”

“Oh, I say!” Nick brightened and sat up straighter in his chair. “What do you suppose she wants with you?”

“I daresay we’ll find out.”

Overlooking Aunt Ruth’s suspicious expression, Drew and Nick both stood at the appearance of a tall, bewildered-looking woman, slender and clad in solemn black.

“Mr. Farthering?”

She offered Drew her hand, and he clasped it briefly. It was a soft, womanly hand, a hand that showed little sign of hardship or toil.

“I don’t know if you’ll remember me—”

“Of course I do. You and Mr. Montford were always very kind to me when I was a boy. I’m so glad to see you again. May I introduce Miss Madeline Parker, her aunt Miss Jansen, and Mr. Nicholas Dennison?”

“Good afternoon.” Mrs. Montford barely spared them a glance before turning her expressive brown eyes back to Drew. “Thank you for seeing me. I should have telephoned ahead, I know, but I just couldn’t take the chance that you might not speak to me.”

“Nonsense.” He guided her to a chair and then sat down himself. “I would be quite pleased to know if there’s any way I can be of help to you. I’m so sorry about what happened to Mr. Montford. It must have been a terrible shock to you.”

“Oh, Mr. Farthering.” She stopped for a moment, her eyes filling with tears, but she blotted them away. “No. I haven’t
time for any silliness just now, and I’m certain you haven’t.” She smiled, her mouth tight and her lips quivering, and then she leaned a bit closer to Drew. “Do you think I might speak to you in private for a few moments? I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

“Of course.” Drew stood and held out his hand to Madeline. “Darling, do you think you and Nick might take your aunt to see to that matter we were discussing?”

“What matter?” Aunt Ruth demanded. “What are you talking about?”

“This way, ma’am. I’ll explain everything.”

Nick took Mr. Chambers from her, offered her his arm, and hurried her out of the room before she could say anything more.

Madeline looked a bit vexed at having to leave, as well. No doubt she was dying of curiosity just now, but she let him bring her to her feet. “We’re going to need your help, too.”

He kissed her cheek. “Won’t be long.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Mrs. Montford said to Madeline, her smile wistful. It had to be painful, with her loss so fresh and raw, to see a happy couple.

Once they were alone, Drew shut the library door and sat down beside her once more.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I want you to find out who killed my husband.”

It wasn’t precisely what he had expected her to ask.

“You want me—”

“Please, Mr. Farthering, hear me out.”

“Mrs. Montford, believe me, I would do anything in my power to help you, but surely this is a matter for the police. They’re much better qualified—”

“But I read about you and that awful situation with Farlinford Processing and everything that happened here.”

“That was hardly anything, really. I merely stumbled upon a clue or two. The police would have found out the villain in time, no doubt.”

“That may be so, but he might have been in South America well before then and completely out of the reach of the law.”

“I still think the police—”

“Bother the police.” Her expression turned fierce. “They’ve got everything wrong as it is.”

“Do they? In what way?”

“They suspect that my husband was meeting a woman there at the hotel. I know that’s not true.”

“What evidence do they have of that?”

“Nothing but their nasty little minds. I just know it’s not true. Not of Quinton. He was a good Christian man.”

Drew made his voice as gentle as he could. “Good Christian men have stumbled before. Presumably that’s what makes a merciful God and a living Savior such a pressing need.”

“I’m not saying he was perfect. I knew him too well for that. But I knew his heart as well as I know my own. Can’t you make them see the truth?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about it. I don’t know the truth of the matter. I hope for your sake that they’re wrong, but I really can’t interfere with their investigation.”

“So you won’t help me?”

“Mrs. Montford—”

“Can’t you even consider that things might not be as they seem? Your poor stepfather, Mr. Parker, he was all but tried and convicted by the newspapers and the local gossip, and he was innocent, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but—”

“And would you have liked to see him buried with the name of murderer and embezzler blazoned over him?”

“But your husband—”

“My husband wasn’t an adulterer. The police are content to let him be branded with that. The press love anything that adds spice to a story, I know that much.” Her eyes pled for her, soft and doelike. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising that Montford would have been still in love with her after so many years. “Won’t you find out what really happened?”

“You know I’m not actually a detective or anything, Mrs. Montford.”

“But you could talk to people. Ask questions. I know I’m asking a very great favor of you, but I don’t know where else to turn. The police won’t listen to me at all. They’ve already made up their minds about everything.”