Murder in the Paperback Parlor (15 page)

“So he turned right out of the stairwell,” she said. “Were you able to pick him up again?”

“No,” her uncle answered. “However, between this camera and the next, there would only be one place for Mr. Poindexter to go.”

Jane's shoulders sagged. “The staff corridor. From there, he could have taken the servant's stairs up or down. He could have hidden in the boiler room, the attic, or in half a dozen closets. What I'd give for a trained bloodhound.”

“Muffet Cat could sniff him out,” Aunt Octavia said. “Though he'd probably get bored of the hunt after two rooms.”

As though the mention of his name had conjured Muffet Cat, the portly tuxedo meowed from the doorway, his yellow eyes wide and inquisitive.

“Come here, my pet,” Aunt Octavia cooed and Muffet Cat padded into the room and jumped onto her lap. His rumbling purr made Jane smile.

“If Nigel Poindexter smelled like tuna fish, Muffet Cat would find him in a flash. Instead, the Fins will have to conduct a second search. Somehow, Nigel evaded us today, though I can't imagine why he didn't just leave when he had the chance.”

“I wondered the same thing,” Uncle Aloysius said. “Take a look at what he was carrying.” He reopened the first
window and rewound the footage. Pausing when Nigel's figure was fully visible, Uncle Aloysius pointed at the messenger bag slung across Nigel's chest.

“His computer.” Jane nodded in understanding. “It wouldn't have survived for long outside. Not with the cold and the rain. I suppose Nigel wouldn't have fared much better. He has a coat and hat, but those wouldn't protect him for more than an hour or two.” She frowned, trying to predict Nigel's next move. “He might just be biding time—staying concealed until darkness and the hubbub of the fashion show gives him the necessary cover to sneak out.”

“But where would he go?” Aunt Octavia asked. “He can hardly steal a bicycle and pedal to the train station.”

“I don't know, but I'll have to pull some of the Fins out of the fashion show. I can't have them parading up and down the catwalk while Rosamund's killer escapes.”

Uncle Aloysius gestured at the slate board containing the list of possible suspects. “
If
he's the killer. Lacking solid evidence, Sheriff Evans was forced to release the rest of the suspects late this afternoon. Any of those ladies could have been aiding and abetting Mr. Poindexter. We still have no idea what the killer's motive was, so we must continue to be suspicious of everyone on that list.” He frowned. “How can we watch them all?”

Suddenly, Jane had an idea. “By putting them onstage.” She jumped up, startling Muffet Cat, who bristled like a porcupine and dug his claws into Aunt Octavia's thighs.

“Hush, hush. It's all right,” she said, trying to soothe the disgruntled feline. She then wagged a finger at Jane. “You won't be able to execute martial arts moves in that dress, so make sure you have a Fin nearby at all times.”

“I will,” Jane assured her aunt.
Except when I'm with Edw
in.

As Jane entered the staff stairway, she was torn between wanting the dance to take place as scheduled and hoping she'd be too busy turning Nigel Poindexter over to the sheriff to meet Edwin. After all, catching a murderer was more important than a date with a handsome and enigmatic man.

Touching the bodice of her gown, Jane thought of the
tattoo hidden beneath the gold silk. The owl with the scroll in its talons meant that she'd agreed to make sacrifices in exchange for being named the Guardian of Storyton Hall. She knew she should be more willing to sacrifice her time with Edwin, but she wasn't.

Jane laid a palm against the wall of the stairwell and wondered where Nigel was hiding. She wished she could put her ear to the wall and have the house whisper his location to her. All was silent, but the solidity of the cool stone gave her strength. Storyton Hall had withstood many trials. It would weather this one too.

When Jane entered the ballroom, she found Mabel gesticulating frantically to half a dozen staff members. Seeing Jane, she pointed at the runway. “I'm worried that people will trip. The candelabras are romantic, but I don't think there's enough light.”

“Why don't I take a practice run?” Jane suggested.

Mabel hurried to the end of the runway and waved Jane forward. “Walk slowly and try not to look down. And pretend you have an escort.”

Jane quickly declared that were too many shadows on the runway. “The crimson carpet is lovely, but it's hard to see the edge, and I can imagine someone plunging right off—especially if they're distracted by the crowd.”

“Oh, dear!” Mabel fretted.

“There's only one thing for it,” Jane said calmly. “We'll have to put duct tape along the edges.”

Mabel shook her head. “That'll look horrible!”

“I don't think so. We have several rolls of white tape in the supply closet. The white on red will echo the Valentine colors. Aren't the men carrying red, pink, or white roses to toss to the ladies in the audience?”

“Yes. And you're right. I'd rather not have my models stage diving. I've worked too hard on their costumes to have them torn.” She smiled at Jane. “I should thank you now in case I don't have the chance later. Not only are my coffers overflowing, but it was also a source of great joy to have created these clothes. It's been a true labor of love.”

Jane swept her arm around the room, incorporating the rows of flickering candelabras, the balloon arch over the doorway, and the rose petals sprinkled on the seat of every folding chair. “This was your vision, Mabel—a delight for everyone involved. However, I might need you to work a little more magic, and I'm desperately hoping you have some extra dresses on hand.”

Mabel grinned. “I might. What do you have in mind?”

“I need to add a few models to your show,” Jane said. “They can wear nightgowns for all I care. I just want these ladies front and center where I can keep an eye on them.”

*   *   *

As it turned
out, Maria Stone had to model a nightgown. She scowled like a petulant child when she learned what Mabel wanted her to wear, but changed her tune the moment Mabel placed a gorgeous red paisley shawl around her shoulders.

“This shawl is for sale,” Mabel said with a gleam in her eye. “And it really suits you. Tell you what, my dear. I'll give you first dibs if you model my nightgown with dignity. I'm hoping lots of ladies will place orders for nightgowns after seeing you in it.”

Though Maria groused and grumbled and refused to be escorted by Billy the bellhop, who was dressed in Regency-era trousers, shirt, waistcoat, tailcoat, and a tall top hat, she managed to make it down the runway and back without incident.

Unlike Maria, Ciara Lovelace was delighted to participate in the fashion show. With her willowy frame and elfin face, she looked like a professional model as she strode down the runway in a Spencer jacket and a fern green dress with a matching parasol.

Barbara Jewel was also thrilled to have been included. The empire waist of her muslin day dress was very flattering and she glowed like a pearl when Tobias Hogg offered her his arm. Jane noticed that Tobias had two roses in his hand. One white and one red. When he and his companion reached the end of the runway, he tossed the white rose to a lady in
the third row. He then presented Barbara with the red rose. Bowing low, he planted a delicate kiss on her hand. When Tobias straightened, Barbara rewarded his gallant demonstration by kissing him lightly on the lips.

The ladies in the crowd cheered at this display and Jane joined in. She'd enjoyed the sweet exchange so much that she nearly forgot that Barbara's name had yet to be crossed off their suspect list.

“She's no murderer,” Jane murmured under her breath. “What does she have to gain from Rosamund's death? She seems content. I can't picture her deliberately hurting anyone.”

The simple truth was that Jane didn't want Barbara to be a killer. She'd much rather imagine Barbara and Tobias walking down the church aisle and living happily ever after. And when Tobias escorted Barbara backstage, Jane could almost believe that an enchanted cherub called Cupid had indeed struck two people with his arrows.

Someone tapped Jane on the shoulder and she pivoted to find Taylor Birch standing behind her. Taylor was dressed in a magnificent gown of cobalt blue silk. Jane glanced down at her clipboard. Taylor wasn't listed as a model. This was the only time Jane had given the publicist permission to take photographs, and yet, here she was without her cell phone.

“This is Ms. York's dress,” Taylor explained. “I decided to wear it in her honor.” She jerked her thumb toward Mabel. “Ms. Wimberly said it was okay.”

“You look stunning,” Jane said. After a brief pause, she asked, “Did you take the gown from Ms. York's room?”

Taylor nodded. “Ms. York always gave me an extra room key so I could bring her coffee and organize her things.” Touching the multicolored bandeau in her hair, which was embellished with false jewels, Taylor gave Jane a brave smile. “I know I don't cut the same figure she did, but it seemed like such a waste to leave this gown hanging in the closet.”

“I couldn't agree with you more,” Jane said kindly. “And here's your escort. Mr. Lachlan, may I present Ms. Taylor Birch?”

Lachlan bobbed his head and offered his arm. He held his body as stiff as the soldier he once was. Jane was suddenly tempted to apologize for making him go out onto the runway, but held her words in check. Now was not the time or the place.

Lachlan was the only Fin present. Butterworth, Sterling, and Sinclair were guarding Storyton's lesser-known exits. Gavin had been called in to watch the surveillance monitors, which would capture any movement around the front and rear doors. Jane suspected Uncle Aloysius would join Gavin after Aunt Octavia retired for the evening, as he was eager to play a part in the investigation.

Taylor returned from her runway walk, flushed and starry-eyed. “I guess that's my fifteen seconds of fame. What a rush,” she whispered and politely thanked Lachlan for his company.

The rest of the ladies wearing evening gowns lined up. Andrew, the front desk clerk, escorted Georgia. She wore a canary yellow gown with a lace overlay and dawdled for a noticeably long time at the end of the runway, waving and blowing kisses to her fans.

“What a diva,” Mabel murmured.

Jane frowned. “She's been waiting to stand alone in the spotlight for years. I wouldn't put it past her to shove Andrew right off the runway.”

Sam, who'd taken a beaming Violet down the runway prior to Georgia's lengthy procession, now offered his arm to Anna.

“You look like a spring bride,” Jane said, touching Anna's diaphanous white gown.

“Don't worry, my friend.” Anna gave Sam a sisterly thump on the chest. “It's a short walk, not a lifelong commitment.”

Sam was a big hit with the audience. After he and Anna completed their walk, he gathered up the extra roses and made his way around the room, presenting the flowers to the gratification of a dozen ladies.

Eloise took her place next to Jane and followed Sam with her eyes. “He's like a puppy. He reminds me of the dog in
Because of Winn-Dixie
.”

“I love that book,” Lachlan said, coming up to stand beside Eloise.

She swiveled and the skirts of her dress, a charming robin's egg blue, billowed around her ankles. The fabric brushed Lachlan's calves with a soft whisper. “Me too. The librarian is my favorite character. He fights off a bear with a book.”

“
War and Peace
,” Lachlan said and smiled.

Eloise gaped in surprise and then hooked her arm through Lachlan's. “You and I need to talk books some more.”

“I'd like that,” Lachlan answered and Jane saw him visibly relax. Eloise had that effect on people. With a word, a touch, or a smile, she could put them at ease.

Mabel gave Eloise a nudge on the back. “All right, my beauty, off you go. Work this finale for me.”

Eloise and Lachlan strolled forward like a Regency-era couple promenading in Kensington Gardens. At the end of the runway, Lachlan tossed his rose to a lady in the middle of the room. At the same time, Eloise swiveled to wave to someone and her heel caught on a bubbled edge of duct tape. Jane watched in horror as Eloise wildly pinwheeled both arms as she fought to keep her balance, but it was clear that she was a breath away from pitching into the space between the runaway and the first row of chairs.

Lachlan reacted with lightning quickness. He lunged, caught Eloise by the hand, and, in a single, powerful motion, pulled her backward and out of danger with such force that she ended up barreling into his chest.

She sagged against him, her face creased with pain. It was obvious that Eloise couldn't put weight on her right foot. Masking her pain, Eloise produced a smile and put her hand on Lachlan's shoulder. She looked at him and nodded, as though to say that she could make it backstage despite her discomfort.

Lachlan shook his head. Without asking for permission, he scooped Eloise into his arms and carried her, as tenderly as a child, back down the runway.

The ladies cheered and Eloise, pink with embarrassment, hid her face in Lachlan's snowy neckcloth.

Cupid strikes again
, Jane thought.

It was now time to close the event. Jane took a breath and prepared to step out onto the runway. She planned to walk to the end and then invite Mabel to join her in order to receive a round of well-deserved applause and a bouquet of roses the color of ripe peaches.

“Don't go anywhere,” Jane told Mabel and started forward.

A hand on her elbow held her in check, and Jane turned to find Edwin at her side. He looked rakishly handsome in his striped waistcoat and dark tailcoat. His black top hat was tilted at a jaunty angle over his brow and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. He doffed the hat and inclined his head. “It would be my honor to escort you, Ms. Steward.”