Murder at the Car Rally Page 7

  “It still amazes me how some people can go about their lives as if they haven’t a care in the world,” the detective observed.

  Evie waited for him to relate some sort of tale about his youth and how he’d had to carry out chores from dusk to dawn until his nineteenth birthday when he’d finally been allowed to further his studies.

  “May I ask why you are investigating a car accident?”

  He gave it some thought and to Evie’s surprise he actually answered.

  “It might not have been an accident.”

  Evie lowered her tone to barely a whisper. “You suspect foul play?”

  He gave a small nod.

  “Did someone alert you to the possibility?” She thought Isabel’s family might have pushed to have the incident thoroughly investigated. She simply couldn’t see any other reason for a Scotland Yard detective being sent down…

  “Yes, and that is all I am prepared to say at the moment.”

  Heavens. He’d obviously made a concession for her. Several, in fact. But he had limits and boundaries.

  Looking down the table, she saw Tom still immersed in his conversation with ‘plain’ Marjorie. She couldn’t wait to share the news.

  “So, tell me about this car rally you’re involved in,” the detective encouraged.

  “Oh… I’m afraid it’s nothing more than a yearning for adventure. A spur of the moment decision.”

  “You were bored?” he asked.

  “Does it sound so out of character?” Evie asked even as she wondered if she should take care how she answered his questions. At this stage, she had no clear idea of what he might be investigating.

  “Well, last time I saw you, you were in the midst of organizing a major event at Halton House.”

  True. The Hunt Ball.

  “It has been temporarily postponed until further notice.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Did the decision have anything to do with the incidents that took place at Halton?”

  “Yes, in the end, the dowagers agreed we needed to let the dust settle before going ahead with the Hunt Ball.” Two prominent members of the community had died while in the process of planning the ball. They had all decided it would be in poor taste to proceed with the event so soon after their deaths. Evie had been rather pleased with the dowagers for reaching such a sensible decision.

  Also, as she still felt the two years she had been abroad had left a gap, she thought the extra time would give her the opportunity to settle into the district before holding the major event.

  “You said you met your friend, Isabel Bianchi, in town.”

  “Yes. It’s strange to hear you refer to her by that name. I’ve always known her as Fitzpatrick. Now I assume she will revert to her maiden name.”

  “What do you know of her current circumstances?”

  “Apart from her marriage? She said she traveled a great deal with her husband. He is… was a racing car driver.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of him. I suppose I meant to ask about her financial situation.”

  “Detective, I’m shocked. You know as well as I do, no one likes to talk about money.”

  “No one in England,” he said. “But you’re American.”

  “As the saying goes, when in Rome…”

  “Oh, I assumed you wanted to assist with my investigation.”

  Evie drew in a breath. “Since you put it that way… The Fitzpatrick family are among the four hundred in New York.” Evie took pleasure in explaining in great detail how only four hundred people could fit into Mrs. Astor’s ballroom. Half way through, she thought she detected his eyes glazing over and then she remembered she had already imparted the information during their last encounter.

  “In other words, they are extremely wealthy.”

  Evie nodded. “If their circumstances had changed, I can assure you someone would have let me know. It’s just the sort of information either my mother or grandmother would share in a letter.”

  Did he want to know if Isabel faced financial difficulties? And, if so, what would it have to do with the car accident?

  “What about her husband? What do you know about him?”

  “I only met him briefly.” And that had been enough for Evie. “He talked at great length about cars and nothing else. Oh, wait. I also recall some mention about wine. I believe he originally hailed from Tuscany. Do you want to know if he appeared to be solvent?” Evie didn’t wait for the detective to respond. “Hard to say. He might have been living off Isabel’s fortune or maybe he had his own money. They were staying at the Automobile Club in London. You could make inquiries.” Evie raised her glass only to set it down again.

  “You just thought of something,” the detective said.

  “How well you seem to know me.” She gave him a brisk smile. “As a matter of fact, yes. I remember Isabel saying she had come to England to seek fame and fortune.” An odd remark, Evie thought. “She already has access to a significant fortune.”

  The detective shrugged. “For some people, a lot is never enough.”

  As the footmen served the next course, Evie pondered the possibility of Isabel needing to access more funds. How would she do that? Were they hoping to win a race? “Is there much money involved in motor car racing?”

  “More and more every day. It makes me think I am in the wrong profession.” Looking down at his dessert, he smiled. “I suppose the grass is always greener no matter where I look.”

  She picked up her glass again and this time, she focused on enjoying her drink only to sigh.

  “Have you thought of something else?” the detective asked, his tone sounding slightly surprised.

  Evie looked around and tried to catch the attention of a footman. Suddenly, she needed another drink.

  “Something else Isabel said might or might not be useful. It’s connected to her other remark. She felt there were plenty of people willing to do anything for money. Of course, I’m taking it all out of context but sometimes we talk about things that take up space in our minds.”

  Could money be connected to Lorenzo Bianchi’s death?

  Chapter Ten

  The root of all evil

  Warwick Hall library

  Evie felt obliged to again say, “Richard, you have been so wonderfully accommodating. I feel dreadful for imposing on you.”

  “Nonsense. It’s not the first time I have offered shelter to a traveler and it won’t be the last, I’m sure.” He stirred his coffee. “Have the police provided more information? I couldn’t help noticing you were deep in conversation with the detective. You know, he specifically asked to be seated next to you.”

  “He and I have met before.”

  “Is that so?” He looked up. “Oh, wait. Yes… I did hear something. Or maybe I read it. I get all the daily newspapers. Even some from abroad. Feel free to use the library.”

  “I daresay, we should be out of your hair in no time. I doubt I’ll be here long enough to enjoy more than a brisk glance at the daily news. The detective’s investigation shouldn’t take too long. He only wants to interview everyone while they are all here.”

  Sir Richard mused, “It makes you wonder…”

  Evie mentally filled in the gap by thinking there might be a killer among them. She stilled and chastised herself for considering such a silly idea.

  A wealthy family wanted answers because their daughter had been involved in a near fatal accident, one which had killed her husband. She shouldn’t read more into it…

  “What’s that?” she asked Sir Richard.

  “Oh, well… From what I understand, everyone here had been at your house and the car accident victim had also been at your house.”

  Oh, please, don’t say it, she silently begged. It had been bad enough to entertain the idea in her mind...

  “For all we know, there might be a killer among us and it could all have started at Halton House.”

  ***

  Evie glanced around the library and found Tom standing by the window
gazing out. He had not been pleased about the arrangements, but Detective Inspector O’Neill had insisted they all needed to stay together until the matter could be fully investigated.

  What did that even mean?

  Were they to take up permanent residence at Sir Richard’s manor house?

  The detective hadn’t provided any solid information. He had suggested someone had pushed for an investigation, but he hadn’t named the person.

  The clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour. Dinner had been a somber affair, mostly because no one had wanted to talk about the death and, Evie imagined, they probably thought tackling any other subject would be in poor taste.

  Sir Richard had done his best to ensure the conversation flowed by showing an interest in his guests where none could possibly exist. A scholar, he had been speechless at first, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets at the sight of the colorful group as they had all chosen to wear the most flamboyant ensembles, but he had adjusted. Just as well the bright young things’ usual behavior hadn’t matched their outrageous clothes.

  When their host had excused himself saying he had an early start to the day and encouraged them to stay on, everyone had settled in for a long night but no one had wanted to talk about what had happened.

  They would have to… eventually.

  Detective Inspector O’Neill stood at the end of the library perusing the contents of a bookcase. However, Evie suspected his attention remained focused on the group.

  “What are you scribbling, Charlie?” Unique asked.

  “I’m jotting down some ideas.”

  “For the book you keep saying you will eventually, someday soon, or in the near future, whenever that might be, start to write?”

  Charlie grinned. “That’s the one.”

  “Tell us what you have,” Unique encouraged. “We might be able to give you the push you so obviously need.”

  Charlie stretched his legs out and cusped his hands behind his head. “I’ve been thinking about writing a story about the stories people wish to write.”

  Unique pulled up a footstool and sat at his feet. “I’m intrigued but it sounds as if you wish to become a ghost writer.”

  “You miss the point. I’ve come across many people who say they plan on writing a book someday because they feel they have a story in them. So, my hero…”

  “Why does it always have to be a hero? Why not a female lead?” Unique complained.

  “I would indulge you, but in this case the hero needs to be free to travel around and, let’s face it, women have been shackled. Yes, some do travel but there are restrictions. Anyhow, my hero travels around the country listening to people’s stories…”

  Evie searched for Tom. He had moved away from the window and had now settled by a bookcase. She watched him for several minutes and, when she saw he hadn’t turned the page of the book he held, she decided he was only pretending to read.

  “Lady Woodridge.”

  Evie considered correcting Charlie and inviting him to call her Evie, but then she changed her mind. After all, someone had to be the grown-up.

  “Do you have a story you think you will write someday?”

  “No, I can’t say that I do.”

  “Surely, you must.”

  Evie smiled. “Insisting will do you no good. I have never aspired to become a writer.”

  Charlie leaned forward. “But if you were to write a story, what would you write about?”

  Did she really wish to play this game? A man had died. It almost felt disrespectful.

  Setting the wine glass she had been nursing down on a side table, Evie surged to her feet and moved about the library inspecting the knickknacks on display. “I think I would want to write something significant and… definitely something different.”

  Unique snorted. “Such as a study of the rotational influences of the moon on the earth and all its inhabitants?”

  Evie stopped in the middle of the room and tapped her chin. “No, I’m thinking more along the lines of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein or… Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth. So, I suppose I would also want to write something entertaining. Both books were written in the last century and they are still quite popular. The same can’t be said for many of these tomes taking up space in this library. I’m sure they served their purpose at one time or other, but I doubt they entertained more than a handful of readers.”

  “Brava,” Lord Saunders exclaimed. “I think it’s a marvelous idea.”

  Evie turned to smile at him.

  Alexander, Lord Saunders, had once again favored tartan, donning a black coattail jacket with tartan trousers.

  Evie remembered Sir Richard’s remark. Had something happened at Halton House? Did the car rally group have something to do with it? Her gaze skipped from one member to the other. They were all looking right back at her.

  Resuming her stroll around the library, Evie turned and saw Tom had set his book down.

  Even when her gaze met his, he didn’t look away.

  Had she engaged his interest?

  Turning her attention back to the other guests, she realized they continued to chime in their responses to her answer.

  “Well said, Countess. I dare say, I would love to see my books outlive me.” Charlie sat up. “So, what type of story would you tell?”

  Evie laughed. “I’m sure I have exhausted all my ideas for tonight.”

  “I somehow doubt it,” Charlie said.

  Strangely, Evie thought she heard Tom murmur the same remark.

  “Give it your best shot,” Unique encouraged.

  Evie tipped her head to the side. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  Charlie urged her to ad lib.

  She laughed. “I really would need more time. Phillipa wishes to write books. Maybe she can play this game.”

  Phillipa yawned. “The Lady Woodridge Mysteries. The story would open with you expounding on the benefits of a quiet life in the country where nothing much ever happens and then someone would turn up dead and you would solve the mystery. I’m sure you’ll insist I use another name. I’ll have to think of one.”

  “Your books could be serialized in ladies’ magazines,” Charlie suggested.

  Unique laughed. “Now you’ll have to write them, Phillipa. We’ll badger you until you do.”

  When they all turned to Evie, she suspected they would harass her until she spun them a tale.

  Crossing her arms, she struck up a pensive pose. After a few moments of quiet deliberation, she said, “I think my story would be a mystery too but it would involve time travel.” She looked up and saw everyone shifting and straightening. Evidently, she now had a captive audience.

  Evie cleared her throat. “Investigating the murder of a mad scientist, the lady detective uses the scientist’s latest invention to accidentally transport herself to the past where she comes face to face with a killer.” Evie held up a finger as if calling for a moment. “Wait… I think it will be better if she travels to the future instead where she meets the reincarnated version of herself. So, when she realizes she has met her future reincarnated self, the killer, who has traveled to the past to kill the scientist, she returns to her time and tries to make sure she never makes the decision that will eventually turn her into a killer.” Evie nibbled the tip of her finger. “Clearly, I would need to iron out the kinks.”

  Not knowing what sort of reaction to expect from her listeners, Evie gave a tentative smile.

  Erupting to his feet, Charlie exclaimed, “Fabulous. How did you come up with that?”

  Evie gestured to Phillipa. “I remembered Phillipa mentioned reincarnation recently. I suppose the moral of the story is to be careful what you do now because you might end up paying for it throughout eternity.”

  Everyone fell silent.

  Out of guilt?

  Could someone in the group really be responsible for Lorenzo’s death?

  Evie strode across the library and sat down next to Tom. “Well, do
I have a decent story in me?”

  “I think you do. I will look forward to reading it.”

  Evie laughed. “Does the world need another writer?”

  “It does if the writer has an entertaining story to tell.”

  “I heard say you should write what you know.” Evie glanced over at Phillipa. “If I were to set pen to paper, I would write about murder and mayhem in the countryside.”

  “If?”

  “Sorry to disappoint. I have the Hunt Ball to plan as well as other events. That should keep me busy for a while.” Remembering she had some news to share with Tom, she checked to make sure no one would hear her and lowered her voice to say, “It seems someone is putting pressure on the police to investigate the accident, which might not have been an accident after all.”

  “Has the detective shared his tactics with you?” Tom asked. “He appears to be taking it all in his stride.”

  “He’s trying to put us all on edge, that’s my guess. He could be trying to play us off against each other in the hope one of us will break and reveal all.”

  Tom lifted his whisky tumbler in a salute. “Your theory relies on one of us or all of us knowing something.”

  What if they did and didn’t realize it? “Sir Richard made a valid observation,” she said. “Isabel and Lorenzo first went to Halton House where they met with the car rally group. Then they drove out and… something happened to Lorenzo. He thinks all this started at Halton House.”

  Tom shifted in his chair. “I’d like to have an easy sleep. There’s really nothing we can do without first knowing how Lorenzo died.”

  “You’re right.” And yet, Evie didn’t feel at ease. They had both already suspected something had happened to Lorenzo before the car had crashed…

  Evie cast her gaze around the library. Were they about to spend the night under the same roof as a killer?

  Chapter Eleven

  In the dead of night

  Hearing a light tap on her bedroom door, Evie nudged it open a fraction.

  “It’s me. Phillipa.”