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DURING THEIR ABSENCE, Mr. Barton appeared to have consumed several more glasses of whisky, enough that he tottered when Rosemary and Max reentered the drawing room.
“What is the meaning of this?” he blustered. “How dare you keep us cooped up in here? I will be speaking to your superiors about the conduct of their employees, I can promise you that. None of us left the ballroom all night if what you are trying to imply is that it was a Barton who committed this crime. Ernest is—was—my dear friend and valued business associate. By Jove, he was the children’s godfather! I demand you take your leave and allow my family to get some much-needed rest.”
His eyes drooped, his speech was slurred, and Rosemary had to once again call upon her patience to keep herself quiet. Having searched the ballroom for, and been unable to locate, Mr. Barton on at least one occasion, she knew his alibi for a falsehood. Not to mention those he had tried to provide the rest of the family.
After his run-in with Marjorie Ainsworth, Teddy had retreated to who-knew-where. For that matter, Grace herself had been absent for a portion of the evening both during and before the altercation with Herbert Lock.
An unpleasant thought occurred to Rosemary, and her gaze swept across the room to Grace, whose face still carried the haunted expression it had worn since they had found the body. Rosemary leaned a little closer to Vera, who stood at her elbow and placed a comforting hand on her friend’s back, watching avidly while Max’s jaw clenched in frustration.
As expected, Vera nearly vibrated with suppressed emotions.
“Mr. Barton, sir, I know this situation is difficult for you and your family, but your safety is my number one priority—” He had not the chance to say anything more because, at that moment, the door burst open and in walked Lorraine Blackburn, looking none the worse for wear after the events of the evening. Her cherry-red lipstick wasn’t even a little smudged, not one blond hair out of place.
She paused in the doorway as if the assemblage of people in the room had gathered expressly for her arrival, and Rosemary was sure the pose she struck had been rehearsed in front of the many mirrors lining the walls of the Blackburn house.
“Vera, my love, there you are. The very handsome gentlemen in uniform refused to let me leave the ballroom. They kept us all caged in as if we were animals. Considering the circumstances, one cannot blame them for their caution; however, I hardly think I’m a viable suspect and would have rather been allowed to check on my daughter.”
Lorraine’s gaze caught the sharp look Max had thrown her way when she mentioned his men, and she threw her head back in inappropriate laughter. “I didn’t mean to offend, Inspector...?”
“Inspector Whittington. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said, holding out his hand for hers as manners dictated he must.
“Lorraine Blackburn and the pleasure is all mine,” she purred, prompting Vera to stiffen slightly. No matter how many such displays Vera was exposed to, Rosemary knew her friend never ceased to be amazed at Lorraine’s need to be the center of attention.
Casting a glance at Evelyn, Rosemary felt thankful for the grace her own mother showed under pressure.
“She’s got nerve, your mother,” Rosemary whispered to Vera. “It’s no wonder where you get it from.”
“Shut up, Rosie,” Vera whispered back, but there was a note of amusement in her voice that let Rosemary know she was more embarrassed than angry, and resigned nonetheless.
“Evelyn dear,” Lorraine turned and focused her attention on her dear friend, giving Max a full view of her rather spectacular rear end as she turned her back on him. It had been said by many an admiring man that the ravages of time had had little luck depleting Lorraine’s good looks, and the assessment was a fair one.
The overused compliment often followed the sentiment that she and her daughter looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. “Haven’t they already grilled you to within an inch of your life? Why on earth have you not been allowed to return home? Or are you simply soaking in the intrigue and enjoying yourself as I am?”
While Rosemary adored Lorraine, if primarily for having bestowed Vera upon the planet, she refused to distort her view of the woman through rose-colored lenses. Putting Evelyn on the spot like that was something Lorraine did far too often, and now was not the time for such behavior.
If Rosemary hadn’t known for certain there was a loving heart beneath Lorraine’s shenanigans, she would have thought the woman enjoyed leaving chaos in her wake.
Having finally had enough, Mr. Woolridge cleared his throat loudly. “We are truly sorry for what happened here tonight, but how much longer are we expected to wait? You have spoken to my daughter and my wife, and I will answer any questions you have, but I implore you to ask them quickly, as it is getting rather late.” Unlike Mr. Barton, Rosemary’s father’s demeanor held no antagonism, and his tone was respectful.
“Yes, sir, I understand.” Max handled the whole scene with the blank look of someone who had experienced far worse, surrounded by considerably more deplorable company. “Miss Blackburn, has your statement been taken?” he asked Vera.
She confirmed that it had, and Max nodded. “I understand you and Rosemary arrived together. You are free to leave. I will interview Mr. and Mrs. Woolridge and send them on their way. I’m afraid, Mr. Barton, that you and your family will be availed of my company a while longer.” Rosemary didn’t think him the least bit remorseful and took a small amount of pleasure that Mr. Barton was getting back some of the attitude he fully deserved.
“Thank you, Max,” Rosemary said for both herself and Vera. “Mother, Father, I’ll see you at home after I drop Vera off. Lorraine, would you like to come with us?” She had an ulterior motive but kept her face innocent.
“Yes, Mother, why don’t you come with us?” Vera insisted. “But I think I will stay with Rosie tonight if Mr. and Mrs. Woolridge don’t mind.” The decision came as a surprise to Rosemary but a pleasant one. She would feel safer with Vera in her bed, even if her friend did tend to hog the covers.
Evelyn wouldn’t have dared refuse Vera right in front of Lorraine, though Rosemary had to admit she would not have done so under the circumstances, regardless. “Of course, dear. You three go on ahead. Your father and I will be along shortly.”
Rosemary cast a glance at Max after bidding goodbye to the Bartons and whispering in Grace’s ear that she would call on her in the morning.
“I would walk you out,” Max said apologetically, “but I need to wrap this up. There’s a constable by the front door. Ensure that he sees you to your car.”
Promising to do just that, the three women made their way to the exit, Lorraine appearing slightly disappointed she was unable to stay around and eavesdrop.
“Wait just a moment, please,” Teddy Barton said, having extricated himself from Grace’s grasp. “I’d be happy to walk the ladies to their car unless you consider me a possible fugitive should I leave your sight.” He peered at Max as if for approval. The inspector glanced between Teddy and Rosemary as though he might protest, finally resigning himself and nodding in agreement.
Teddy escorted the women outside, taking the opportunity to talk with Rosemary while the driver helped Vera and Mrs. Blackburn into the car. “You’re taking this whole thing in your stride,” he said, a note of admiration in his voice. “Most women would be reduced to a puddle of tears like my dear sister, but you appear unruffled. Why is that?”
Rosemary bristled slightly at his comment. She had hoped Teddy Barton was more evolved than his father, but perhaps he also enjoyed subjugating women. “I have seen men who can't handle the sight of blood or look a dead body in the face. Becoming unnerved at the realities of death is not an exclusively female trait,” Rosemary retorted. “Thank you for your concern, but I really ought to be getting home now.”
“Wait just a moment. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Teddy realized he had put his foot firmly in his mouth and rushed to defend himself.
“Perhaps not, but the fact remains.” Rosemary crossed her arms and peered at Teddy defiantly.
He appeared as though at a loss for words, and that was not something that happened to the enigmatic Theodore Barton often. The woman standing before him was a spitfire indeed. She heated his blood in a way the compliant women his father constantly threw into his path never would.
“I apologize, truly. My attempt at a compliment was inexcusably inept. You surprise me with your composure, and I’m intrigued as to how you came to be that way.” Teddy appeared contrite, and Rosemary softened somewhat.
“You are forgiven. I’m probably being sensitive,” she allowed. “I may not appear as though ruffled, but I find no enjoyment in this situation.”
Teddy nodded towards the car. “No, I didn’t mean to imply that you did. Truly. I’m sure you would like to get on your way, try to get a good night’s sleep. I—I hope to see you again, Rosemary Lillywhite.” He stuttered slightly, giving the impression he might have been intending to say something else, but Rosemary did not have the patience or the energy to linger upon what it might have been.
“Good night,” Rosemary answered, folding herself into the back seat of the car. Vera stared at her with a thousand questions in her eyes, but Rosemary shook her head and mouthed the word later. She would be expected to repeat the events of the evening, including every single word of her conversation with Teddy several times to placate Vera, but that could wait.
“What a night!” Lorraine exclaimed. “Who would have thought an evening with those two insufferable bores could prove more exciting than a night on the town.” She appeared positively gleeful.
Vera turned a sharp look in her mother’s direction, “You’re acting callously, and it’s rather unbecoming, Mother,” she said, her tone just as razor-edged.
“Oh, Vera, don’t be such a wet blanket. Obviously, I feel sorry for the miserable sod. However, I find it far easier to handle unpleasantness with humor than despair. It keeps me from getting too many frown lines or feeling the need to swallow a handful of pills. I’m sure that handsome young inspector will figure out who did the vile deed, and then we can all rest easy knowing the murderer is behind bars.”
Somehow, Rosemary doubted the Bartons or Mr. Cuthburt’s family would rest easy that night. That someone had snuffed out a life while a whole houseful of people drank champagne and danced made her heart hurt and stiffened her resolve. She didn’t care what Max Whittington or her mother said. She would do everything she could to help solve the case, whether or not her assistance was accepted.
“Though, between the three of us,” Lorraine continued, “I must admit I didn’t care much for Ernest Cuthburt. It will be interesting to see what becomes of Barton & Co. when old Edgar is left with that surly widower Arthur Abbot as the only one to advise him,” she said with a wink.
Vera’s gaze whipped to her mother. “And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Nothing whatsoever, dear. Just that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. That’s all.”
