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I spent the rest of the day in my room trying alternatively to nap or read. Neither worked. My mind buzzed and fizzed with possibilities. Finally, I gave up and dressed early for supper. Since Maddie wasn’t there to help, I donned a simple light green satin evening dress. The bodice was loose enough to fit my ample bosoms, and the straps were decorated with sparkling rhinestones. Slipping my feet into silver sandals, I waited with one ear to the door as the other guests tucked themselves away in their rooms to prepare for the evening. Then I slipped downstairs.
Detective Inspector Willis had left hours ago, ostensibly to return to the station and report to his superiors. Unfortunately, Harry had been locked in his study the rest of the day, so it had been off limits. This was my first chance to snoop...Er, investigate.
The lock on the study door proved as difficult to pick as the one on the cellar door had. I was about to give up in frustration when someone loomed over me and said, “Want me to have a go?”
I glanced up. “Chaz! Give a girl heart palpitations, why don’t you. Why aren’t you getting ready?” At some point he’d swapped out his seersucker suit for a white dinner jacket over black trousers.
“Didn’t need much doing, darling. Quick change and voila.” He spread his hands as if to indicate his magnificence. “And I saw you slipping out. Knew you’d be up to no good. Spy hunting, are we?”
“Trying to. Could you?” I held up the pick set.
He waved me aside and had the lock open in minutes.
We both slipped inside and shut the door behind us. Straight ahead were a pair of French windows, no doubt the same ones the burglar had broken into, overlooking the main gardens and the path wending down the hillside to the river and the boathouse. To the left was a large window which overlooked the side gardens and the orangery. The curtains were back on both, though sheer drapes covered them with a light filmy gauze, leaving the room in soft twilight. The scent of pipe smoke lingered, and underneath, the faintest trace of men’s cologne. Something expensive and citrusy. Not unlike what Chaz wore.
To the right was a modern fireplace, neatly appointed with a carved mantlepiece and art deco tiles. In front of that was a single reading chair, simple lines covered in wine velvet, and a side table perfect for setting one’s drink on while reading the paper or a book.
In the middle of the room stood a large antique desk which could have stood in for a dining table. The thing was vast. On it were several stacks of papers and folders of varying heights. Behind it was a leather chair. Against the wall to the left of the French doors was a filing cabinet and a small bookshelf containing not books, but file boxes, all neatly labeled.
“Doesn’t look like there’s been a break-in,” Chaz mused.
“I imagine the maids have been in to clean,” I said. “Harry no doubt had them in the minute Willis was out the door.”
“So we’ve no idea what the place looked like after the supposed burglary.”
I glanced at him, surprised by his words. “What do you mean? Do you think Harry faked the break-in?”
He shrugged. “Anything’s possible. Don’t you think it’s odd that Neville Chamberlain, of all people, was here, and then next thing there’s a burglary, but Harry has no idea if anything was taken?”
“He does? But the constable—Smith, I think—slipped up and said something had been taken.”
Chaz shrugged. “If that’s true, then dear Harry is lying through his very white teeth.”
It was dashed odd. “Do you think it was a cover up? But why? What would Harry be trying to cover up?”
“Damned if I know. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe the constable was confused. Or trying to sound important. But it’s just...odd.”
Odd it was. “Well, let’s just look around and see if we can learn anything of use.”
“Where should we start?”
I tapped my chin. “I’ll have a look at the papers on the desk. You check out the file cabinet and the bookshelf. We only have perhaps twenty minutes before the first guests come down for pre-supper drinks.”
“Less. Harry usually gets down first.”
“Dash it all. Fifteen, then.”
We went to work, quickly thumbing through papers, trying to get some idea of what Harry was up to. Most of the papers on the desk were farm documents: ledgers, notes from tenants, orders of seed. That sort of thing. There were also bank statements, correspondence between Harry and various people—some personal, some clearly business. But nothing that gave any indication as to why someone would want to break into his study.
Chaz was still deep in the file cabinet, so I roamed the edge of the room. Maybe something had fallen under a chair or behind a bookshelf? But I found nothing. Until I came to the fireplace.
It had been decidedly hot over the past few days. Far too hot to have a fire going. But there, in the grate, were the charred remains of just such a thing.
I knelt down, frowning. Even if Harry had been cold and decided to start a fire, surely the maids would have been in to clean by now?
Using the poker, I carefully nudged some of the ash to the side, catching sight of something not entirely burned. It was a small bit of paper with something neatly drawn. Schematics of some sort, it looked like, but it was hard to say; the piece was so small.
Before I could show it to Chaz, I heard a familiar voice in the hallway. I froze, hoping Harry would simply head into the drawing room. Instead, footsteps echoed outside the door. Without thinking, I dashed across the room, grabbed Chaz by the arm, and yanked him toward the French doors.
We barely made it outside and out of eyeline of anyone entering the room, before the study door swung open and Harry could be heard saying, “...I’ve got one in here. Let me show you...”
I carefully reached over and pushed the French door closed until it latched softly. Then I took a deep breath and stepped away, down the side of the house with Chaz hot on my heels.
“That was close,” he said.
“Too close,” I agreed. “Did you find anything?”
“Not a thing,” he said cheerfully. “Just bally boring ledgers and such. No secret government documents. What about you?”
I told him about the fragment I’d found in the fireplace. “I have no idea what it was, and it might not mean anything,” I admitted. “I just think it’s suspicious that he burned it in the fireplace in the middle of the summer instead of throwing it away in the bin.”
“Does seem deuced odd.” Chaz shoved his hands in his pockets. “What now?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I need to have a think. Why don’t you go on in?”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to take a turn around the garden. Maybe head down to the river. A bit of solitude would do me good.” The sun had sunk low on the horizon and it was finally a tolerable temperature. Fresh air was just the thing to clean out the cobwebs.
“While you’re gone, I’ll see if I can’t rustle up a proper highball for you.”
“Actually, I think I’m off highballs for the moment. How about another one of those marvelous Aviation cocktails?”
He winked and strode toward the terrace and the doors leading into the drawing room.
I slipped further into the garden, losing myself down a winding path edged in masses of roses, rhododendrons, lavender, larkspur, and lilies. Wisteria and climbing roses had even been trained over arched trellises so they formed a tunnel of color and perfume. Bees buzzed to and fro and the occasional humming bird zipped in to sip from one of the blooms. I almost wished I lived in the country, so I could have such a garden, but I was a city girl through and through. The occasional visit to the countryside was fine but give me the bright lights of London any day. I needed people and excitement and things to do, places to go.
The path curved downward toward the river and I followed it. The air got cooler and damper as I descended. Perhaps I should have brought a shawl with me.
The path came to an end at a small promontory edged in a low rock wall before descending again toward the boat house. I could just see its roof through the trees. I stepped closer to the wall. The view over the River Dart was splendid. Distant lights shone like fireflies as the sun sank into the sea to my right, coloring the sky in rose and orange.
I tried to bring my mind back to the matter at hand, but it would wander down the garden path, so to speak. Perhaps I should give this silliness up. No one had been hurt. Harry even claimed nothing had been taken, despite what Constable Smith had claimed. And Willis seemed to believe Maddie’s story, so I no longer feared she was in danger. The policeman no doubt believed her to be just another English lass gone into service and had no idea of her background. I’d worried for nothing. So, yes, maybe I should just give up my little investigation and let the police handle things. The likelihood was my curiosity would never be satiated anyway. I might as well enjoy this time. Perhaps a trip to the sea was in order? It was just a short bit away.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I froze. I knew that voice. But it couldn’t be. He was away in France, playing jazz in Paris, no doubt. And yet...
I turned slowing, drinking in the sight of him. Broad shoulders. Bedroom eyes. Full lips that knew just how to kiss. I’d had personal experience with that.
I stepped closer and he reached out to stroke a hand down my arm, his long, artist’s fingers so dark against my pale, bare skin. I managed to hold back a sigh, but only just.
“Hale,” I finally managed. “You’re here. How—?”
“We can talk about the how later. Right now, I’ve more important things to do.” And he pulled me tight against him and kissed me. At first it was soft and sweet, full of lush promise. But then it grew a bit steamier and more intense.
Just when I thought I might do something embarrassing like swoon, he let me go and skimmed a finger down my cheek. “Been dreaming of that for a while.”
His husky voice twinned with that American accent almost had me swooning all over again. I reminded myself sternly that I was a grown woman and didn’t go swooning over musicians. Or anyone, for that matter.
“What are you doing here?” I finally managed.
The last I’d seen of Hale Davis had been at the Astoria Club, one of London’s premier jazz clubs. Since it was now shut down, thanks to a murder on site, he and his jazz band had moved to greener pastures. Not that I blamed him. Musicians had to go where there were people willing to hire them, and in his case, the people willing to hire him were in France.
I admit I’d wished he’d stayed, that we could have spent more time together, but the reality was that despite mutual attraction, we came from two different worlds. Didn’t mean I missed him any less, or that I was any less annoyed that he didn’t write. Or call. Or something.
He grinned and rocked back on his heels, tucking his hands into the pockets of his high-waisted white trousers. He was dressed all in white which stood out against his dark skin and made him seem equal parts dapper and dangerous. “Man said there was a party and he wanted music. So, here I am.”
“Mr. deVane hired you? When did you get back from France?” And why hadn’t he contacted me?
“Couple days. Don’t worry, I was going to look you up.” He had the audacity to smolder at me.
“Who said I was worried?” I said archly.
He gave me a knowing look that was somewhat cheeky, although he did have me pegged. He knew exactly how he affected me. I wasn’t used to someone else having the upper hand. I wasn’t sure I cared for it.
One could say my former husband Felix had been the one with the upper hand. Older, wealthier, and worldlier, while I was hardly more than a girl from an impoverished, albeit somewhat aristocratic, background. Well, if I were honest, I wasn’t exactly “hardly more than a girl.” I’d been in my late twenties. On the shelf, as it were. But the truth of the matter was that Felix and I had been equals. He’d been quite the feminist. Surprising for a man of his age and station.
“Are you here for long?” I asked Hale, hoping he would say that he was.
He wrapped an arm around me and guided me to a bench built into the wall and half hidden beneath a weeping willow. “Through the weekend. My new band is joining me for the big shindig at the end.”
The costume party and dance Harry had promised. I had been rather blasé about it before, but now it held a new level of excitement. I reminded myself that this was never going to go anywhere and that Varant was a more suitable suitor, but apparently, I wasn’t listening to myself. For all his sex appeal, Varant never gave me goose pimples.
“Good,” I said awkwardly. “Why didn’t you write?” I instantly cursed myself for being a simpering idiot. I hadn’t meant to sound so...needy.
Hale shrugged. “We had a great time, but it was...brief. I didn’t think I’d ever be back here. Seemed right that I should let you move on. Find someone...more like that Lord you were spending time with.”
“Varant. He’s here, you know.” I figured I might as well warn him. Avoid any awkwardness.
“Yes. I heard.” Hale’s tone was dry, but his face gave no indication one way or the other how he felt about Varant.
“I don’t plan on marrying again,” I blurted. “I like my freedom. Sorry, I don’t know why I told you that. But it’s true. I had one husband and that was enough.”
“Did you love him that much? That you would stay true to him?”
“Who? Felix?” I laughed softly. “Felix was a dear and I adored him, but it wasn’t the grand passion you imagine. We enjoyed each other’s company, supported each other’s endeavors, and cared for each other, but we weren’t madly in love or anything. No, I plan to remain unmarried because I prefer my freedom.”
“How does Varant feel about that?”
“No idea. Don’t particularly care, either. But I imagine it would make me much less desirable to him.” Which might explain his coolness. Perhaps he realized I would never want anything permanent from him. He really should marry a biddable girl who would give him oodles of heirs.
“Not sure he sees it that way,” Hale warned.
“Yes, well...” How had we gotten on the subject? “In any case, it’s very noble of you to shove me off onto some other man, but I assure you, it was entirely unnecessary. And rather cheeky, if I do say so. What makes you think I needed to ‘move on’ as you say?”
The look he gave me made my stomach flutter. As he leaned in the flutters moved lower.
“Let me show you.”
Oh, my.