Murder at the Car Rally Read online

  “Come in,” Evie whispered.

  “You should not have opened the door.”

  “But you tapped on it.”

  “Yes, but… You didn’t know who is was until I announced myself. Never mind… No one saw me so you shouldn’t worry about people reaching the wrong conclusions.”

  Laughing lightly, Evie said, “Why am I suddenly picturing everyone with their ears pressed to their bedroom doors?”

  “It’s your vivid imagination.” Phillipa settled down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t sleep.”

  “No, nor can I. I would ring for some tea but I’m afraid that will raise the alarm. In reality, I wouldn’t want to wake someone up just so I can indulge in a cup of tea.” Evie sat at the other end of the bed. “Something has been bothering me a great deal. Did you see Isabel and Lorenzo’s arrival at Halton House?”

  Phillipa nodded. “I had just been making my way down the stairs when I saw Edgar showing them through to the drawing room. Once the others told them you had left, Isabel swung around and told her husband they had to catch up with you. She sounded determined.”

  “Yes, that sounds like Isabel. So, let me guess… They left straightaway.”

  “No. Lorenzo Bianchi insisted they needed to have a brief rest and some refreshments after their long drive.” Phillipa got up and strode around the room. “They stayed for approximately half an hour. Isabel refused to sit still.”

  “But they had refreshments.”

  “Yes. Edgar brought in some tea and coffee.”

  “Did Lorenzo talk to anyone in particular?” Evie asked.

  Phillipa gave it some thought. “We were all intrigued by the couple. Charlie and Unique fired one question after the other.”

  Evie tried to engage her imagination only to realize Tom had made a solid point. They needed to know how Lorenzo had died. Until then, they could only employ guesswork. However, she decided it shouldn’t stop her from getting some sort of background information…

  “Did anyone in the group actually know Lorenzo?”

  “I don’t think so. I strode into the drawing room just as Lorenzo was introducing himself to everyone.”

  “Do you remember if he had a private word with anyone?”

  Phillipa stood still and gazed at her. “Do you have a theory taking shape in your mind?”

  “No.” Evie sighed. “I’m trying to paint a picture. Luckily, I don’t have to try very hard because you were there.”

  Pressing her hands against her cheeks, Phillipa closed her eyes. “Let me think.”

  Evie strode to the dresser and searched through one of the drawers. When she didn’t find what she wanted, she continued her search until the last drawer yielded some paper and a fountain pen.

  When Phillipa opened her eyes, she found Evie sitting at the dresser.

  “Are you going to take notes?”

  “I’d like to place everyone. Can you remember where you were standing?”

  “By the piano. That was the closest place to the door I could find to sit down. You know how it is when you are the last to arrive somewhere… Well, perhaps you don’t. I tend to hover in the background trying to pick up the vibes in the place. I guess that makes me an introvert of sorts. Although, you wouldn’t know it by looking at me. Anyhow, Isabel and Lorenzo sat by the fireplace.”

  “Together or opposite each other?”

  “Together.”

  “And who sat opposite them?”

  Phillipa gave a firm nod. “Unique and Marjorie.” She closed her eyes again. “Charlie stood on the other side of the sofa between them. At one point, he leaned down and pressed his chin against the headrest. I remember thinking how odd it looked. You know, almost as if he didn’t have a body.”

  “What about Batty?”

  Phillipa smiled. “You seem to have become acquainted with everyone.”

  “He insisted I call him Batty. Now that I think about it, I meant to ask how he acquired the name.”

  “Oh, he enjoys playing cricket and is quite a good batsman. Apparently, he made his way through Oxford by hiring himself out as a batsman for struggling teams.”

  Evie had been about to say something else but Phillipa’s remark lingered in her mind. “Pardon?”

  “He supported himself by playing cricket.”

  She remembered Isabel saying some people were prepared to do anything for money. “He is Lord Hemsworth, and he attended Oxford. How could he possibly be in need of money?”

  Phillipa inspected her nails. “I’ve heard whispers about his family keeping up appearances.”

  “So, they’re having financial difficulties.”

  “Oh, it’s been going on for some time. The Hemsworth estate is crumbling around them. Apparently, they only use the downstairs rooms because the upstairs ones are in a state of dereliction and they simply cannot afford to fix them.”

  Evie strode to the window and drew the thick velvet curtains open. She looked out at the clear indigo blue sky sparkling with stars. “How old is he?”

  “Batty? He’s about twenty-eight.”

  “He needs to find himself an heiress.”

  Phillipa snorted. “First, he needs to grow up. Batty appears to be in denial. You must think I have double standards because I’m running around with his crowd. Don’t get me wrong, I love the freedom to come and go as I please and I’m sure he does too. But there’s a big difference between us. I’m aware of the fact I need to make my own way in the world. No one will hand me an estate to live in. Yes, I received a small inheritance, but I think I’m putting it to good use.”

  Evie smiled but refrained from commenting.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phillipa leaning forward as if trying to catch her expression.

  “Yes, sorry… I am smiling. I may be an heiress but I know the average person would consider using the money to learn a trade rather than pursuing what they might think of as a whimsical dream.”

  Lifting her chin, Phillipa said, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. That’s precisely what I’m doing… more or less.” She smiled. “I told you. I want to gain some life experience so I can then write about it. I’m sure I’ll be able to earn a living out of it.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll put your inheritance to good use. However, if you are serious about writing those mysteries, please do change the name of the protagonist. Remember, I am trying to lead a quiet life. Notoriety wouldn’t suit the Countess of Woodridge.”

  “A quiet life?” Phillipa laughed. “I believe your destiny has already been chosen. You no longer have a say in the matter. In fact, I might take up Tom’s suggestion and write your memoirs.”

  Turning away from the window, Evie sat at the dressing table. “After Edgar served the refreshments, what else happened?”

  While Phillipa tried to recall the details, Evie tapped her pen and wondered what else Batty might be willing to do for money…

  ***

  The next morning

  “What did I miss?” Evie asked as she took her place at the breakfast table.

  Tom set his cup of coffee down. “The detective has begun his interviews. He wishes to speak to us individually.”

  “Well, he has already spoken with me. You and I will not come under suspicion.”

  Tom slanted his gaze toward Evie. “We’re the only witnesses to the accident. For all anyone knows, we might have been responsible.”

  “Nonsense. Isabel will testify to the fact we were on the road and risked life and limb to get her out of the vehicle.”

  “What if she never recovers her senses?” Tom asked. “She looked in bad shape.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That it might be our word against… well, against anyone who decides to cast aspersions on our characters.”

  Evie snorted. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “The killer, of course,” Tom whispered. “It would be the perfect way to throw the scent off himself.”

  “Anyone who hears you wo
uld be right to accuse you of indulging in wild speculations. I hope Phillipa doesn’t rely on suppositions for her mystery books. Remind me to tell her she will need clues and plenty of them, otherwise readers might complain.”

  A footman approached with a pot of coffee and poured some into Evie’s cup.

  “Whatever you do during your interview,” Evie said, “try to get the detective to tell you how Lorenzo died. He must know by now.”

  “How could he know? It takes time to perform an autopsy. The detective spent the night here. As far as I know, he didn’t receive any telephone calls. And now he is in the library carrying out his interviews.”

  Evie gave it some thought. “We don’t know if he came to Warwick Hall straight from the train station. He might have gone to the hospital first.”

  The door to the breakfast room opened and Charlie strode in. “The detective would like to speak with Unique now.”

  Unique remained seated, her eyes slightly glazed over.

  “Unique.”

  She turned as if hearing Charlie for the first time. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  Smiling, Charlie strode over to Unique, helped her up to her feet and, holding her hand, led her out of the breakfast room saying, “She’s not a morning person.”

  “Someone must have had a late night,” Evie murmured. When Charlie returned and took his place at the table, Evie found herself studying him. Moments later, she clicked her fingers.

  “Are you using some sort of code?” Tom asked as he buttered some toast.

  “No, I just remembered something Charlie said. You were there when he told us Lorenzo had…” Evie clicked her fingers again and tried to remember Charlie’s exact words.

  “Placed at the Indie 500?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, that’s it. He also said he knew some racing car drivers who would be pleased to learn Lorenzo wouldn’t be racing in this year’s Indianapolis 500.”

  “And your point?”

  “What if someone wanted to make sure he didn’t race?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ideal conversation should be a matter of equal give and take - Emily Post

  Evie considered getting another coffee but Tom had only now been called in to speak with Detective Inspector O’Neill and she knew he wouldn’t be long. His succinct manner would ensure that. As everyone else had already been questioned by the detective, she expected to be next.

  Smiling, she thought the detective had left the best until last. She gazed out the window and caught the last streaks of a bright orange sky.

  Phillipa strode into the breakfast room. “Are you still here?”

  “Yes, I’m waiting to be called in. Where is everyone else?”

  Phillipa helped herself to a cup of coffee. “They’re strolling around outside and making plans for the next leg of the trip. Will you be joining us?”

  Evie decided she’d already had as much excitement as she could take. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to. Someone has to take care of Isabel. She’ll have to return to Halton House with us.”

  “How are you going to manage that? You’re traveling in the roadster. I doubt she’ll feel like sitting in the rumble seat. Not after the traumatic experience she went through.”

  “True. I hadn’t given it any thought. I suppose I could telephone the house and ask Edmonds to drive up with the large car.”

  “Or,” Phillipa said, “I could remain with you and I could drive Isabel back to your place.”

  Evie tilted her head. “Any chance you might then meander along a side road and end up in the north of England?” She held up a hand. “Give me a moment to savor the image and then I’ll apologize for the callous remark.” Despite her poor opinion of Isabel, Evie now felt responsible for her wellbeing.

  She glanced at the door.

  Tom had been gone longer than expected.

  “What could they be talking about?”

  “Perhaps Tom is sharing some of your insights with the detective,” Phillipa suggested.

  “What sort of questions did he ask you?”

  Phillipa shrugged. “Nothing that surprised me. He wanted to know how well I knew everyone in the car rally group. He also wanted to know what everyone talked about when Isabel and Lorenzo arrived at Halton House.”

  “Did you tell him about the conversation we had last night?”

  “No, I thought I’d leave that to you.” Phillipa grinned. “I know just how much you enjoy chatting with the detective.”

  Evie glanced at the door again. “Did he actually say you were all free to go?”

  Phillipa opened her mouth only to close it. Frowning, she finally said, “I honestly can’t say if he did or didn’t. Having said that, I can’t think why he would force us to stay on.”

  Evie cusped her hands under her chin. “Did I tell you how Tom and I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time or vice versa?” When Phillipa shook her head, Evie continued, “We had a flat tire.”

  “I’ve had several of those,” Phillipa said. “The last one actually sounded like a gunshot. I had a kneejerk reaction and threw my hands up in the air only to realize I needed to maintain control of the steering wheel. How did you get your flat tire?”

  “That’s just it. We don’t know exactly how it happened. Tom suspects someone punctured it with a nail. Do you know anyone in the group capable of pulling such a stunt?”

  Phillipa’s cheeks turned a deep crimson.

  Evie shifted to the edge of her chair. “You do.”

  “I couldn’t say with absolute certainty.” Phillipa brushed her hands across her face. “One of them pulled a prank and changed all my tires so I ended up with different sizes. I had a wobbly ride for several miles until they took pity on me and stopped to change them back. That was before I had learned to change my own tires.”

  Smiling, Evie said, “I’m going to take a wild guess and point the finger of suspicion at Charlie.”

  Phillipa lowered her eyes. “He’s a grown-up kid.”

  “Is he likely to have tampered with Isabel’s car?”

  Giving a brisk shake of her head, Phillipa nibbled the tip of her thumb. “He couldn’t have. He didn’t have the opportunity to. When Isabel and Lorenzo finished their tea, they left and all the time they were in the drawing room, Charlie stood right there with them.”

  Tom entered the breakfast room and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  When he didn’t say anything, Evie asked, “Well? Did you get any information out of the detective?”

  “No. Detective O’Neill is being guarded so I couldn’t get anything out of him.”

  Evie surged to her feet and straightened her skirt. “Fine. I will give it my best shot.”

  “Oh… He didn’t ask to see you.”

  “Pardon?”

  Tom shrugged. “He said he already spoke with you.”

  Evie dug inside her pocket and retrieved the notes she had made the night before. “But I wanted to share this with him.”

  A footman entered. “Begging your pardon, milady. I thought you had finished.”

  “I suppose we should let you get on with your job.”

  The footman stood aside and said, “I believe the other guests are making their way to the drawing room for refreshments.”

  Phillipa wove her arm through Evie’s. “Come on. We’ll get to the bottom of this by subjecting them to such a fierce interrogation, they won’t know what’s hit them.”

  Evie gave a distracted nod but when they reached the drawing room, she stepped back and, excusing herself, strode off in the direction of the library, saying under her breath, “I can’t believe he doesn’t wish to speak with me.”

  She didn’t bother knocking. Entering the book lined room, she sent her gaze skating around until she spotted the detective standing by the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Detective.”

  The detective turned, his eyebrows slightly raised as if she’d caught him by surprise.

 
; “Lady Woodridge.”

  Evie’s chin lifted. “How do you hope to carry out your investigation if you don’t question everyone involved?”

  “I’m sorry. I was under the impression I had spoken with everyone.”

  Evie slammed her hands against her waist. “Everyone except me. I thought you were keen to engage my assistance.” Frowning, she crossed her arms. “Or are you? Now I think you were merely humoring me.” She took a step toward him only to stop. The rumbling in her mind quietened and she experienced a moment of clarity.

  Everything the detective had said to her the night before suddenly made sense. Or rather, as she viewed it all from a different perspective, the conversation acquired a different meaning.

  Evie ran through the sequence of events. After the accident, Tom had gone to get help. A while later, he had returned saying the police wished them to remain because they needed to get witness statements. After which they’d been free to go to the Pecking Goose where the police had caught up with them again and had informed them a detective from Scotland Yard would be arriving soon…

  “Wait a minute.”

  Startled, the detective’s eyes widened.

  “You lied to me,” Evie accused.

  “Pardon?”

  “You led me to believe Isabel’s family had been responsible for your involvement, but that can’t be.”

  The detective clammed up.

  “Admit it. They had nothing to do with it. They couldn’t have. News about Isabel’s accident could not have reached them so quickly. Not even if the constable had contacted the Embassy as soon as he identified the victims. Or sent a telegram directly to Isabel’s family himself. That would be impossible because he would not have known how to contact Isabel’s family in America.”

  The detective lifted his chin. “Her family has been contacted.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t recall exactly…”

  “Before or after Scotland Yard became involved?” Evie demanded.

  “I really don’t see what this has to do with you not being questioned.”

  Evie held his gaze in a self-conceited attempt to coerce him into revealing more. If she were not so intent on getting results, she would laugh at herself.