Murder at the Car Rally Page 10

  “I’d actually be both afraid and intrigued to ask the dowager for an explanation. It all depends on the point she is trying to put across. On one occasion, I remember her saying she favored the Victorian era over the Edwardian only to change her mind the following day saying she had lived in the cusp of both eras so she felt entitled to feel either way.”

  Caro rubbed her temple.

  Smiling, Evie said, “Yes, sometimes, her reasoning makes my head throb too.” Seeing Caro still looking rather perplexed, Evie put her mind to work. “Let’s see. The Victorians were incredibly conservative. While the Edwardians had a less rigid standard of conduct. Just look at the way we dressed.”

  “So, which era are we in now?”

  “Some people would say we are in the midst of the Georgian era because of King George, but I’m inclined to think of this as the Jazz era. So… what could have prompted Henrietta to remark upon her behavior? She must have been justifying something.” Evie clicked her fingers. “Oh, maybe her pilfering. I shouldn’t really call it that since I feel she still owns everything in Halton House.”

  “She might have been talking about your relationship with Tom Winchester,” Caro suggested.

  “Are you referring to our working relationship?”

  Caro’s cheeks filled with a tinge of pink. “Or she might have been referring to the car rally group.” Caro gave a firm nod. “Yes, that must be it. Their behavior is hardly exemplary. They hoot and cheer for no reason at all and the way they dress… Lady Henrietta must have thought the house had been taken over by a carnival.”

  “If you can think of anything else you might have seen or heard, don’t hesitate to tell me, Caro.”

  “Why? Has something happened?” Caro gasped. “Of course, it has. Your friend’s husband died in a car accident.” Caro gasped again. “I meant to ask. Why is the detective here?”

  “He’s still here?”

  “Yes. Apparently, he had left to call in on the village and then he returned soon after Edmonds and I drove up. The staff here have been rather tightlipped about his presence.”

  He must have gone directly from his failed visit with Isabel back to Warwick House…

  Evie wondered how much she should share with Caro without sending her scurrying for cover. Her maid would hate the idea of being in a house with a possible murderer. And, after Isabel’s whispered revelation, and the remark Caro had heard…

  Evie had to assume the worst.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Detective. I see you are still with us. I thought you had given everyone leave to go on their merry way.”

  “Not exactly, Lady Woodridge.”

  Evie stilled. “I must have been misinformed.” Earlier that day, Phillipa had said everyone had been questioned and… they were all ready to leave. Then Batty and Charlie had told her they would be leaving after luncheon.

  “Can you tell me where you were headed before the accident?” he asked.

  “Portsmouth. At least, that had been the intended destination. I thought I’d already told you that.”

  He nodded. Drawing out his notebook, he flipped through the pages. “And Miss Brady had been traveling up north.”

  “Yes, she got lost.”

  “Do you know where Miss Brady is now?”

  “I assumed she would be here.” Evie looked around the library and saw Tom approaching. He had changed his suit and looked cleanshaven. “Tom, have you seen Phillipa?” Even as she asked, a feeling of trepidation swept through her. Shaking her head, she dismissed it. What could possibly happen to any of them while they stayed at Warwick Hall?

  “She’s probably in one of the drawing rooms. I’ll go look for her.”

  “That’s all right, Mr. Winchester. I’ll be happy to speak with her whenever it’s convenient. We’re not going anywhere for some time. This storm is not easing up.”

  Evie considered bartering with the detective but thought better of it. He needed to know what Isabel had told her.

  Lorenzo Bianchi had died for a reason. “Detective. I visited Isabel in hospital…” She told the detective what Isabel had revealed.

  “You don’t look surprised, detective.” Evie drummed her fingers on the armrest. “I feel I am well within my rights to be informed. It looks as if we will all be spending the night at Warwick Hall and I would like to know if we are in any danger.”

  He held up his hand. “Rest assured, these people don’t wish to draw attention to themselves.”

  “These people?”

  “I don’t wish to alarm you, Lady Woodridge.”

  “I am already alarmed but only because I feel I am being kept in the dark.”

  Hitching his hands on his hips, the detective swung away. A moment later, he turned to face her again. Evie found it all very dramatic.

  “This incident involves organized crime.”

  Evie’s eyebrows shot up. “We’re in the English countryside. I expect to find that sort of activity taking place in… in the seedier side of London or the wharves.”

  “I’m glad to see you are not completely ignorant of such goings on.”

  “Detective, I would be the first to admit to leading an insulated life but that doesn’t make me ignorant of the facts of life.”

  The detective looked down at the floor and, after a brief deliberation, he said, “We believe Lorenzo Bianchi had been involved in trafficking.”

  Evie entertained all sorts of possibilities. Back home, prohibition had been in full swing for several months and already there had been reports of illegal activities. But no such embargo existed in England so it couldn’t be liquor.

  Evie drew in a deep breath and looked the detective in the eye. “I realize you may not be at liberty to say, but I would be greatly interested to learn how Lorenzo Bianchi died.”

  “His heart ceased.”

  Evie sat back and crossed her arms. “That’s an interesting way of saying he had a heart attack.”

  The detective mirrored her crossed arms.

  Evie imagined anyone walking into the room would think they were about to lock horns.

  “What could have caused the attack?” she wondered out loud. “I only met him the one time and he looked quite healthy. Regardless, he might have suffered from some sort of heart condition. Yes? No?”

  The detective didn’t even bat an eyelash so Evie decided to talk until he gave something away. “I know he stopped briefly at Halton House and had a cup of tea. Then he rushed to catch up with me. So that would not have given him time to stop and indulge in a large meal that might have triggered some sort of attack. As a car racing driver, he would have been used to driving at great speeds, so we have to cross that out too.”

  Evie held up a finger and entertained an idea she couldn’t share with the detective. Smiling to herself, she pictured Isabel talking her husband to death. After a moment, she found the thought in bad taste and so dismissed it.

  Evie looked away, gasped and clasped her hand against her mouth, prompting the detective to uncross his arms.

  “Lady Woodridge. Are you all right?”

  The detective had mentioned Lorenzo had been involved in trafficking. Over the last few years, she had read articles about the growing cocaine problem and its effects on society…

  Evie nodded and, leaning forward slightly, she whispered, “Drugs?”

  As the word hung between them, Phillipa entered the library. “Here you are. What have I missed?”

  ***

  Lifting the cup of coffee to his lips, Tom murmured, “You’re still fuming.”

  Evie glared at the detective. When Phillipa had made an appearance, he had taken her aside to have a word with her. Despite remaining in the library, he had chosen the opposite corner, putting enough distance between himself and Evie.

  “He is being so obviously secretive. I don’t understand why he bothers. He must know Phillipa will share everything with us. And, yes. I am still fuming. He only needed to nod. Would it have killed him to give a miniscul
e sign as confirmation Lorenzo Bianchi had been involved in cocaine trafficking?”

  Tom laughed.

  Huffing, Evie said, “As for you laughing, you could at least pretend to be supportive. I’m sure you are just as curious as I am.”

  Evie poured herself another cup of tea and sat back to watch the rain. The wind had eased down but the rain continued, making it inadvisable for the car rally group to set out.

  Taking an impatient sip of her tea, she asked, “Do you think there is a connection between Lorenzo and someone from the car rally group?” When Tom didn’t answer, she nudged him with the tip of her shoe. “Am I boring you?”

  “Never. I’m deep in thought trying to play your game of connect the dots. We now know his heart ceased.”

  Evie nodded. “Since the detective refuses to share any other information, it is up to us to discover what can make a heart cease.”

  “Drugs,” Tom suggested.

  “Is that so? I’m afraid I don’t know much about the detriments of drug usage. Well… other than what I have read in the newspapers and that information can’t always be trusted. Sometimes I feel they are trying to manipulate the way I think. If I am going to be misinformed, I would prefer to remain ignorant.” She finished her tea and set the cup down.

  A footman appeared and cleared the small table. “Will there be anything else, milady?”

  “No, thank you.” Glancing at Tom who had now picked up a magazine, she asked, “What has you so intrigued?”

  “You.” He turned the magazine so Evie could see for herself.

  “What am I looking at? Oh… Oh… That’s me. Being hugged by Lorenzo Bianchi at the Automobile Club.”

  Pointing at another photograph, Tom said, “And here you are again, having dinner with your best friend.”

  “Sir Richard said he kept numerous newspapers. Where did you get that from?”

  “I found this in a drawer.” Tom pointed at the bookcase behind him. It had several shelves with large drawers on the bottom part.

  Opening one, Evie saw the newspapers had been folded and stacked, slightly overlapping and allowing for easy access to the date on the top. “I suppose there is a system here.”

  Tom handed her what looked like a small ruler. “I believe this is used as a placeholder to mark the spot where you remove something. There are a number of them in that little box on the bottom shelf.”

  “In other words, don’t mess with the system.” Evie looked inside another drawer and found a stack of ladies’ magazines. “He certainly doesn’t discriminate.” Then again, these might have been part of his wife’s subscription. Evie had never bothered to cancel Nicholas’ subscriptions. The newspapers and journals on agriculture and business continued to arrive each month as if nothing had happened.

  “Who are the other people in the photograph?” Tom asked.

  Taking a chair beside Tom, Evie had a closer look. She pointed to two of the men. “They are racing car drivers and this other man is an engineer. I can’t remember what his field of expertise is. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Isabel and I were the only women at the table. It seems car racing is a male dominated world.”

  Tom quirked his eyebrow. “At least until a woman decides to take it up.”

  “Don’t look at me. If I need to travel from point A to point B, I wish to be able to admire the scenery at leisure.”

  “Never say never,” Tom murmured under his breath.

  “Out of curiosity, would you teach me to drive?”

  Tom set his magazine down and gazed up at the ceiling. “Yes.”

  “Without reservations?”

  He shook his head. “Absolutely. What if something were to happen to your driver? You’d be stuck. It makes perfect sense for you to learn.”

  Tapping her foot, Evie mused, “I’d have to get a smaller car. Perhaps a roadster. I believe the idea is beginning to grow on me.” She tilted her head in thought and then asked, “Were you being diplomatic when you agreed you would teach me to drive?”

  Tom’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “Did I actually agree to teach you? I think I might have expressed a hypothetical willingness to undertake the task.”

  Rolling her eyes at him, Evie took the magazine he’d been perusing from him and had a closer look at the photographs. “I must say, my public mask serves me well. You can hardly tell I’d been entertaining ways of ending it all.”

  Surprise registered in Tom’s eyes. “That bad?”

  Evie nodded. “I had to take a powder before bed. My head wouldn’t stop pounding.” She narrowed her gaze and lifted the journal for a closer inspection. “Did you notice this man in the background? He appears in both photographs and they were both taken at different times. One at luncheon and the other at dinner. And he’s wearing the same suit.”

  Shaking his head, Tom said, “If Isabel Bianchi has such a negative effect on you, why didn’t you try to make your getaway after lunch?”

  “Isabel never left my side. Not even when I used the pretext of having to change for dinner.” Evie tapped the photograph. “It can’t be a coincidence. He’s looking directly at Lorenzo.”

  Tom leaned in for a closer look. “Do you think he’d been keeping tabs on him? He could just be a racing enthusiast.”

  Evie glanced over at the detective. “Sir Richard pointed the finger of suspicion at Halton House. Maybe we need to look further back.” Even so, something had happened. In her own house, she thought. “I’m so glad Henrietta and Sara are not here. I have the strangest feeling… before this night is over, we’ll be talking a great deal about finances. They are English through and through and would not tolerate it.” Evie tapped her chin.

  “What else is on your mind?” Tom asked.

  “Phillipa. When she walked into the pub, she looked somber. That’s not like her. I know I’ve only met her recently, but she simply doesn’t come across as the type to even frown.”

  The detective and Phillipa stood up and, after another brief exchange, they joined Evie and Tom.

  “See. She’s frowning,” Evie murmured.

  “Who’s frowning?” Phillipa asked.

  “You.”

  Phillipa and the detective pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down.

  “I’m afraid I’ve landed in a bit of a pickle,” Phillipa said.

  “Does it have something to do with you getting lost?” Evie asked and thought one could be excused for taking a wrong turn, but to actually end up in the wrong part of the country would require a great deal of disorientation.

  “Getting lost?” Phillipa shook her head. “I went precisely where I’d been told to go.”

  The detective nodded. “And the places Phillipa visited happen to be marked as places of interest for trafficking.”

  A footman approached. “There is a telephone call for Detective Inspector O’Neill.”

  As the detective left to answer the call, Evie murmured, “I am so tempted to say we outnumber him and could force him to share the news, but I suppose we shall have to rely on his goodwill.”

  “Pity,” Phillipa said. “I would have given anything to see you trying to wrench the information out of him.”

  Exchanging a look with Tom, Evie said, “There is one other person we outnumber.” She looked at Phillipa. “Kindly fill in the gaps and tell us what you were talking about with the detective.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “A happy-go-lucky; neither craven nor valiant.” Moby Dick (1851)

  Evie crossed her legs and swung her foot from side to side. Half an hour after hearing Phillipa’s tale, she still struggled to understand why Phillipa had blindly followed instructions left by an unknown person.

  Tom handed Evie a cup of tea. “It’s chamomile.”

  “Are you suggesting I need to calm down?”

  “At the risk of incurring your wrath, I’d just like to say fretting won’t help.”

  Evie’s foot tapped the air. “You actually expect me to be perfectly at ease with the idea of
Phillipa searching her trunk and finding several packages with instructions to deliver them to several locations in the north of England. Foolish girl. I don’t understand what she could have been thinking.” Evie sat up and stomped her foot on the floor. “She’s lucky she’s not behind bars.” Grumbling under her breath, she added, “What if something had happened to her?” She looked up at Tom. “I know you’re now going to be the voice of reason but I am allowed to indulge in a rant, which in turn makes me feel old. Are they so happy-go-lucky they give no thought to consequences?”

  “I suppose you’re referring to the bright young things.”

  Evie sat back and drank her tea. “I’m inclined to think there is nothing bright about them.”

  “You know I can hear you,” Phillipa said.

  “Yes, but is anything I am saying sinking in?” Evie asked.

  Phillipa inspected her nails. “None of us made a big deal out of it.”

  The detective entered the library and appeared to hesitate. Evie didn’t blame him. Her head throbbed from holding her scowl in place.

  “You’ll be pleased to hear I have no intention of beating about the bush,” he said. “Lorenzo Bianchi’s death is now being attributed to an overdose. Specifically, cocaine.”

  Evie glanced at Phillipa. Before she could say anything, Phillipa jumped to her own defense. “I didn’t know I had been trafficking that substance. As far as I knew, the parcels contained nothing more than dressmaking material. In fact, the addresses I delivered the items to were dressmaking establishments.”

  The detective cleared his throat. “The coroner had some other interesting findings.”

  “We’re listening.” Evie could barely hide her surprise at his willingness to share more information.

  “He found another substance in the victim’s system. Barbituric acid.”

  “That sounds rather ghastly,” Evie remarked.

  “And yet, you are probably quite familiar with a particular product named Veronal. It is used to cure insomnia.”