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The road from Varant’s manor to Wit’s End passed by the village pub. Just as I approached, a car coming from the opposite direction screeched to a stop outside the pub and Binky climbed out. He was alone and looking a bit frazzled as he entered the pub. I’d no doubt he’d be there awhile, drinking the afternoon away. Which meant this would be the perfect time to search his room.
I accelerated, speeding the rest of the way. By the time I arrived at the manor, I was shaking with nerves, which was silly. Fortunately, I met no one and was able to slip up the back stairs usually reserved for the staff and into Binky’s room.
The maids hadn’t been in yet and the place was an utter disaster. The bedclothes were in a wad, clothes strewn willy nilly, and the vanity overflowed with jars of pomades and whatnot, some of them tipped on their sides as if he’d been in a hurry.
I’d no idea what I was looking for. Could be anything: a piece of paper with a secret code, a blueprint, a letter. Maybe even a bloody knife. Only that was silly. The knife had been left in the victim’s back.
I shook my head at my own wild imagination and began to systematically search the room as best I could. I even got down on my knees to peer under the bed. I rummaged through the rubbish in the waste bin and poked at the empty fireplace. There was a stack of books by the bed which was odd. Binky didn’t strike me as much of a reader. But they were all quite innocent and bore nothing of interest.
I finally had to give up. Frustration jabbed at me like a sharp needle. This was getting me nowhere and I was feeling rather overheated and in dire need of a drink. Perhaps there had been something incriminating in Binky’s room at one point, but it was certainly gone now.
Rather out of sorts, I stomped down to the drawing room where I was sure to find a beverage of some nature.
I wheedled Mrs. Bates into providing a bowl of ice. Then well-armed, I raided Harry’s drinks cupboard for the necessary booze. A few minutes later, I was ensconced in an armchair with a good view of the sweeping lawn, an Aviation in one hand and a book in the other. Not that I could focus on the book. My mind was in far too much of a whirl. But it would be a good excuse to avoid unwanted entanglements of the conversational variety.
Fortunately, the first to put in an appearance was Chaz. “Darling, that looks simply marvelous. How does one make it?”
“Oh, it’s terribly easy. Gin, maraschino liquor, lemon juice, and creme de violette.”
Chaz followed my instructions, shook it all with ice, and poured it into a delicate martini glass. “Sheer perfection!”
“I should say.”
“I can’t believe you’re not drinking a highball,” he said, lounging next to me.
“The Aviation is my new poison.”
“Well, if you must have a poison, ‘tis a delightful one,” he said, sighing over a sip. “How goes the investigation.”
“Not well,” I admitted. “I haven’t been able to get in to see Maddie. Varant’s on it.”
“Is he.”
I ignored his cheek. “I searched Binky’s room thoroughly, but there was nothing.”
“Dash it all. I was sure Bucktooth Binky was our man!”
“Don’t be daft. He’s up to something. Of that there’s no doubt. And I’m certain it’s to do with that man’s death. Maddie is innocent.”
“Of course, she is. Worst maid ever, but a genuinely decent human.”
“Not the worst maid ever,” I corrected him. “Just cheeky. Aunt Butty’s Flora is the worst maid ever. Calls me ‘miss’ and can’t even brew a decent pot of tea.”
“Horrors.”
“You’d think so if you ever had to drink it.”
We sat in companionable silence for a moment.
“Have you had the chance to spend much time with Hale Davis?” Chaz asked slyly.
“A bit,” I admitted.
“I wish it was easier.”
“I know.”
“I’m surprised Varant agreed to help you. He doesn’t particularly like Willis.”
I raised a brow. “How do you know?”
Chaz shrugged. “I was in the village and happened to overhear Willis giving Varant the screws.”
I leaned forward. “About?”
“His visit here with Chamberlain. The break-in.”
“What did Varant say?”
“Not much,” Chaz admitted. “Some mumbo jumbo about he and Chamberlain being ‘old friends’ with Harry and just popping over for a spot of supper. That Chamberlain was ‘passing through’ and there was nothing at all unusual about it.”
“But you don’t buy it.”
He shook his head. “Not a bit. Varant is an excellent prevaricator, but I’ve known the man long enough to know when he’s beating about the bush, so to speak. There is definitely more to this story.”
“Something interesting enough to bring out German spies?” I asked, remembering my chat with Varant.
“No idea. I wouldn’t have thought so. Varant is so deadly dull. Well, he is.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you were about to defend your darling.”
“He isn’t my darling,” I protested.
“No? What about Hale?”
“I think we’ve strayed from the topic at hand,” I said coolly.
He smirked. “Very well. The point is, Varant was hiding something. Of that there is no doubt. Although Willis seemed to buy his nonsense. More or less. Then again, Willis isn’t that bright, if you ask me. But I can’t for the life of me figure out how Chamberlain is involved or what German spies have to do with anything.”
“Not to mention, who is the man that ended up dead in the study?”
“Yes, there’s that, too,” he said dryly.
“We’re no closer to discovering the truth,” I lamented. “And I’ve no idea where to go from here.” I eyed him. “You could cozy up to Binky. Maybe get him to open up.”
Chaz made a sound of distaste. “Wonderful. Do I have to?”
“Pretty please? For me.”
“If I must. What will you be doing in the meantime?”
“Waiting for Varant to work his magic.” And keeping my fingers crossed that we weren’t befallen with another disaster.
––––––––
FEELING A BIT ANXIOUS and at loose ends, I decided a walk before tea was just the thing. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the lawn as I stepped outside. It was still warm, but not nearly as chokingly hot as it had been earlier.
A bird chirped sleepily nearby, and the crickets sang their summer tune. The sweet scent of roses teased my nose as I strolled slowly down the garden path beneath trellises and arches toward the river.
It was such a lovely evening that I decided to push the thoughts of murder and mayhem from my mind and enjoy the moment. Bask in the glory of a summer’s eve, as it were. There would be plenty of time for maudlin thoughts later.
I caught the stench of a cigarette moments before I rounded a hedge and practically tumbled over a young man sitting on a bench. He wore a chauffeur’s uniform and jumped up, red faced, the moment I stumbled upon him.
“My lady! Most sorry.” He tried to hide the cigarette, but it was useless. I could see the smoke trailing up from behind his back.
“No worries,” I assured him. “We all need a little break from time to time. You’re Mr. deVane’s chauffeur?” I remembered him from the day Aunt Butty and I had arrived. He’d been the one to hold my door.
“Yes, my lady. Stevens.” He tugged at an imaginary cap, his having tumbled to the ground. I doubted sincerely that he was a Stevens. He had a heavy accent of the European variety, though I couldn’t quite place it. I suppose it had been muddled by time spent in England.
“As you were, Stevens.”
He gave me a wink and a saucy salute, which I let slide. I started to turn away when a thought struck. “Did the police question you, Stevens?”
“About the murder?”
“Or the break-in.”
“Yes, my lady. Both. I don’t know nothing. Told them so.”
“Ah. You sleep over the garage?” Most chauffeurs did in these big houses.
He frowned as if not sure where I was going. “Yes, my lady. Ever since I come to work here.”
“Which was?”
His frown deepened.
“When did you come to work for Mr. deVane?”
He squinted up at the sky. “Come now two years ago.”
“Ah.” He was either very committed to the cause and possibly presentient, or exactly what he said he was. “So, you were in your room the night of the break-in but heard nothing? Saw nothing?”
“No, my lady. I get very tired. Sleep hard. Maybe a little—” He made a tipping motion toward his mouth with one hand.
“Oh, drinking. Yes, that’ll do it, I suppose. Same last night?” I needed to know if he had an alibi for the murder
“Last night, go to pub. Have some drinks. Come home. Sleep. Hear nothing. See nothing.”
Since the pub closed at eleven, he’d likely been home and in bed before midnight. Which was well before the murder. So, he could have done it. He could also be the spy. He could be lying. But it wouldn’t do to accuse him of any of those things. I was suddenly very aware of how alone we were.
“Yes, well, thank you for your help, Stevens. I must be off. Enjoy your smoke.” I forced myself to walk slowly as if simply continuing my stroll, but my mind was awash with ideas. Here was a perfect suspect. Why hadn’t Willis arrested him? Just because Maddie had found the body...well, that didn’t mean anything. I was going to have to dig deeper on this chauffeur. Maybe something ugly would bubble to the surface.