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CORA WOKE TO THE SOUND of Archibald scratching on the door.
“One moment.” She scrambled to put on some clothes. She chose a soft gray dress and flung the cashmere shawl Veronica had purchased over her shoulders.
Life would continue, and she soon led Archibald down the corridor. A door swung open, and Veronica poked her head out.
“Honey, I was hoping that was you,” Veronica drawled. “I thought I heard Archibald’s paws. Are you going outside?”
“Yes.”
“Wait. I’ll join you.”
Cora didn’t have to wait long before Veronica opened the door fully and stepped out. She wore a long black and silver kimono over wide ebony satin trousers. A silver turban covered her head, managing to look both majestic and, perhaps more importantly, covering her not-yet-done hair.
“You don’t look like you’re in mourning,” Cora whispered.
“I’m wearing black and gray,” Veronica said primly. “Now let’s hurry.”
They strode down the corridor and then down the stairs.
Cora was relieved to see the chief inspector in the hallway, even though his presence caused Veronica to scowl.
The man approached Cora. “May I speak to you alone?”
Veronica looked questioning at Cora, as if prepared to not permit the chief inspector to speak with her.
Cora nodded though and turned to Veronica. “It will only take a moment.”
“If you’re certain...” Veronica’s face remained dubious, and Cora motioned to the chief inspector to speak to her in the next room.
“Did you arrest Mr. Badger?” Cora asked, excitement brewing through her. “Was I right? He was the murderer, wasn’t he?”
“We can’t seem to find him,” the chief inspector said. “He wasn’t at his home address either. He must have already fled.”
“But that’s impossible,” Cora said. “He was here.”
“Hmm...” The chief inspector stroked his mustache, as if it were a wishing stone. “Perhaps something made him nervous.”
“Oh.” Cora widened her eyes. “I’m afraid he was in the corridor when I telephoned you.”
“I see,” the chief inspector said. “And did he seem...off?”
“Very,” she said.
The chief inspector rose. “Well, that explains it. I’m going back to the station. Unfortunately, we don’t have any evidence against him yet, and it hardly warrants a large manhunt.”
She nodded, despising that he’d been there.
“It’s not your fault,” the chief inspector said, his expression sobering. “You still did the right thing in calling us.”
“Yes, chief inspector,” she said, but neither the words, nor his forgiveness eviscerated the weight that had fallen over her heart.
Cora rejoined Veronica. “Let’s walk.”
Veronica nodded, and they strode briskly through the hallway. At the door, they encountered Natalia. She was sitting on a bench in the foyer, and her face seemed even paler than normal.
“Up so early?” Cora asked.
Natalia nodded weakly. “I—er—was just heading for a walk.”
Cora glanced down at Natalia’s shoes. Damp grass clung to them, and Cora frowned.
“We’re going on a walk too,” Veronica said blithely. “Why don’t you join us?”
Cora half expected Natalia to make an excuse about why she couldn’t do just that. Somebody had been wearing Natalia’s shoes recently, and Cora didn’t think it was anyone else except her. After a moment’s hesitation, Natalia nodded. “That sounds lovely.”
“Very well.” Cora attached the lead to Archibald, and they soon exited the house.
The air was crisper than yesterday, and Cora shivered. The sky and the channel were shades of gray, and the sound of waves rolling relentlessly over rocks filled the air.
“Shall we walk to the folly?” Cora asked. She’d been most curious about the small old-fashioned neo-classical structure in a corner of the garden.
“That sounds good,” Veronica said, and her voice wobbled as she shivered. Her lips were a shade of blue that Cora doubted she had found at the makeup counter at Selfridge’s.
“Perhaps we should visit Beachy Head,” Natalia said, referring to the area’s most famous cliff.
“You intend us to walk?” Veronica widened her eyes.
“It’s simply down the hill...”
“Nonsense,” Veronica said. “I’m already cold. I don’t want to walk on an unprotected hill. You’re not dressed that much more warmly than I am.”
“Bulgaria is cold in the winter,” Natalia said simply. “The folly is, I’m sure, fine.”
They strode toward the small stone house that was so unlike the main house. Ivy climbed the walls, and Grecian columns flanked the door, as if to give the impression a Greek god or goddess was in the habit of staying in it.
“It’s adorable,” Veronica said, and even Archibald picked up his pace, though Cora suspected that was more out of general delight for being outside than a particular admiration of the architecture.
Birds chirped merrily, and Cora inhaled the fresh air. She turned to Natalia. “This must be beautiful in the spring.”
“Oh, it is,” Natalia said.
Cora turned away. She hadn’t expected that Natalia had been here so long. “How long have you been here?”
“Shortly after Ivanov married Mrs. Ivanov,” Natalia said. “So almost two years now.”
“It must be unconventional to live with your brother and his wife.”
For some reason, Natalia’s eyes sparkled as if Cora had told a joke, but perhaps she was also enjoying the beauty of the landscape.
“Where do you think you’ll go next?” Veronica asked.
“Back to the continent,” Natalia said.
“You don’t desire to stay?” Cora asked.
Natalia gave her a sad smile. “Sometimes that’s not the correct question.”
“I understand,” Cora said, thinking of her own hasty departure from Hollywood.
They approached the folly, and Archibald began to bark.
“Quiet,” she said to him, but his barking continued.
She looked around, but she didn’t spot any animal that he could be barking at. Perhaps he was simply excited at being outdoors. The garden must include all manner of interesting smells for him.
“It really is most curious to have a structure like this. Why ever was it built?”
“Some say as a place where the master of the house could meet his mistress,” Natalia explained. “More probably it had to do with the frequency of sudden rain outbursts.”
Veronica and Cora both gave nervous glances at the sky. It remained gray, but no rain fell.
Yet.
“Shall we go inside?” Veronica climbed up the steps of the folly.
“Oh! It’s probably locked,” Natalia said quickly. “We should go.”
“The scent of this ivy is rather less appealing than I imagined,” Veronica said. “Perhaps you’re right.”
Cora narrowed her eyes. What was going on? Natalia was acting most curious.
“No,” Cora said quickly. “Let’s—er—investigate.” She followed Veronica up the stairs and grabbed hold of the doorknob. She glanced behind her, noting that Natalia’s face seemed to pale.
The door was unlocked.
Perhaps Natalia was correct in that it was a location for avoiding rain showers. She opened the door. Some chairs were arranged in a small room, and she stepped inside.
“Quite revolting,” Veronica murmured, sniffing the air. “This is in a garden. It shouldn’t be impossible to air it out.”
“Shall we keep the door open?” Natalia asked.
“Please,” Veronica said.
There was another door in the room, and Archibald rushed toward it, barking. He scratched the door, and Cora opened it, half-expecting to enter another room despite the small size of the folly from the outside.
There was no other room.
There was only a closet.
A very full closet that seemed to contain a...man.
The man fell from the closet and landed with a thud on the floor. Dried blood coated his balding head, and his skin was a strange color between gray and sickly yellow.
Veronica screamed. The sound soared through the room, and no doubt soared through the garden. If the murderer was still outside, he would know the body was discovered. Cora shivered at the thought of somebody lurking behind the bushes.
“He’s dead,” Veronica said. “Dead!”
Cora stared at the body. “It does appear so.”
Archibald continued to bark, and he shoved his nose toward the body, as if to better examine it himself.
Cora picked him up.
Mr. Badger lay before them. Mr. Badger, who had talked of going to Argentina. Mr. Badger whom she was certain had killed Mrs. Ivanov’s husband. Mr. Badger who had most certainly been murdered.
The man’s eyes were open, and a blood-smeared stone was by his feet.
Natalia didn’t scream, but she wrapped her arms together and leaned against the wall of the folly, as if she needed help to stand up. Her face was white.
“You’re going to find a new accountant,” Veronica remarked.
There was a putrid air near the body. Most likely it was emanating from Mr. Badger. Yet the temperature had been cold last night. Would the body have decomposed much? The body didn’t appear to be ravaged by insects. She frowned, remembering when she’d encountered a dead body before.
“I think something else must be here.” Cora surveyed the folly and then proceeded to look underneath chairs.
“Cora, you are being quite silly,” Veronica said firmly. “What on earth are you doing?”
Archibald whined and when she put him down, keeping his lead tight so he wouldn’t go back to the body, he delved underneath Veronica’s chair.
“Could you please stand?” Cora asked.
Veronica’s mouth dropped open. “And why should I do that? This is atrocious. Do you desire me to faint?”
Cora smiled. “You won’t faint. And it will only take a moment.”
“Well.” Veronica frowned but stood obediently.
Quickly Cora ducked her head beneath the chair. Nothing. But perhaps... She lifted the chair upside down. There, strapped to the bottom of the chair was a piece of fish. A piece of uncooked fish.
“Most vile. Who on earth would do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, obviously you don’t know,” Veronica huffed. “Do you suppose some...local boy did that as a prank?”
“No, I doubt it,” Cora said.
“Because English humor does seem quite bewildering at times,” Veronica said.
“Not that bewildering,” Cora said.
“Do you suppose Mr. Badger did it himself?”
“I would find that most curious.”
“Yes, he did seem far too dull to do things like that. But one never knows. And he was quite angry when he left the house. Perhaps he placed the fish there to desecrate it before he was murdered.”
“That is highly unlikely,” Cora said, still staring at the fish.
The problem was... She couldn’t think of another reason why there would be some fish hidden in the room. She removed her notebook and sketched the fish so she could identify it later. Perhaps the type of fish was important.
What might this refer to? Had Mr. Badger offended somebody in the past? Was this murder not related to that of Mrs. Ivanov’s husband? Perhaps he had offended some fishing merchant? He’d been an accountant on the South Coast, and it was conceivable he’d at one time dealt with some local business that had been involved in fishing.
And yet, Mr. Badger had died on Mrs. Ivanov’s estate, mere days after her own husband had been murdered. Cora had at times encountered coincidences, even powerful ones, but she refused to believe these deaths were not related.
“We need to fetch the chief inspector,” Cora said.
“I’ll go,” Natalia said quickly. “I’ll run.”
“As will I,” Veronica said, her kimono fluttering in the breeze caused by the open door. She turned. “Will you be fine here? Do you think the murderer will come back?”
“I-I don’t know,” Cora said.
She’d been so certain Mr. Badger was the murderer. But she’d been wrong. Who would want to kill both Mr. Badger and Mr. Ivanov?
Had she been wrong? Had Mr. Mitu been the murderer after all? Had he become enraged after Mr. Badger had publicly insulted him, and then killed him before Mr. Badger could fulfill his dream of warm, sun-filled days in Argentina?
She didn’t know.
Veronica paused. “Honey?” Her voice sounded small and strained.
Cora inhaled. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just get the chief inspector. And perhaps...”
“Cora?”
“Perhaps it would be nice to see Randolph.”
“Oh, honey,” Veronica murmured.
Cora straightened. “Simply to get his professional opinion, naturally.”
Nothing to do with the fact that her legs were quivering and her knees buckling. Nothing to do with the fact that Randolph’s shoulders were broad and his chest emanated strength and security. Nothing to do with his masculine scent of cotton and cedar that she wanted to sink into. And nothing to do with the fact she wanted to lose herself in his presence, to distract her mind with the timbre of his voice, and to have him sweep her into a hug.
Veronica nodded, still giving a stricken expression at the body and then followed Natalia out.
Archibald whimpered, and Cora picked him up, holding him to her.