Jasper and I strolled to the far end of the Oak Hall and paused in front of a large display of swords, which were attached to the wall with the points at the center and the handles arranged in a fan shape. With his attention on the military hardware, Jasper said, “So Tommy did break into the sitting room and tear the pages out of Bankston’s notebook.”
“Yes. He freely admitted it.”
As soon as we’d met in the Oak Hall after luncheon, Jasper and I had moved away from the group. It was our first opportunity to talk alone. As we’d circumvented the Oak Hall, I had brought him up to date on my discussion with Tommy and Madge. At the other end of the Hall, Francie and Mrs. Searsby were supervising the placement of the Christmas tree, installing it near—but not too near—the monstrous fireplace that would soon contain the Yule log. Francie looked jaunty in a navy corduroy sport suit with knee-length knickers, socks, and Oxford shoes. Mrs. Searsby was dressed more traditionally in a long-sleeved berry-red wool dress. The main door of Holly Hill Lodge stood open, letting in chilly air, which added to the already glacial atmosphere of the Hall.
Jasper and I ambled on to the next display, a full suit of armor complete with a jousting pole. “Bit extreme of Tommy, don’t you think? Breaking into a locked room at a country house where one is a guest just to keep news of a wedding from getting out.”
“But Madge’s father is incredibly wealthy. If he were to cut her off, they would only have their tennis winnings to live on, which I’m sure are significant, but . . .”
“Yes, one can’t keep playing lawn tennis and winning tournaments forever.” Jasper jingled some change in his pocket as we strolled. “Her father’s estate is substantial?”
“Very. It would certainly be something worth keeping Bankston quiet about. It was obvious Madge and Tommy disagreed on how to handle the situation. In fact, I heard them talking about it in the motor right after the accident. They didn’t think I was listening—I had a ghastly ache in my head and was lying back with my eyes closed—but I heard Madge say they had to stop ‘him.’ I didn’t know who they were referring to, but now that I’ve thought about it, I remember she said something about the man poking his ski-slope nose into their business. I should have made the connection when we discovered Bankston’s body.”
“His nose was the shape of a ski jump,” Jasper allowed, “but there was quite a lot going on at that time. It’s not surprising you didn’t connect those details until now. Did Tommy or Madge tell you anything else?”
“Oh, yes. Tommy insists he simply wanted to rough Bankston up, but Madge maintains that she’d paid him off and that Tommy didn’t go near Bankston.”
“Did Madge say how much Bankston wanted?”
It was one of the questions I’d asked before I left Madge and Tommy. “Fifty pounds.”
Jasper’s lips quirked down in a thoughtful expression. “A surprisingly moderate amount to demand for keeping a secret that could lead to financial calamity.”
“I expected her to name a much higher figure too. I suppose Madge could be lying about the amount, but I don’t think she was.”
“And you’re quite good at reading people.” We moved around the suit of armor, looking at it from all sides as Jasper said, “Of course, that may have been Bankston’s play, request small amounts over time. Nothing to rouse someone to do anything—drastic, shall we say.”
“It does agree with the amounts written in his notebook,” I said, “but then we have the fact that someone killed him.”
“Perhaps Bankston threatened someone with a small thing, but they had something bigger to hide.”
I looked across the flagstones to the group at the other end of the Hall. The tree was now in place, a towering evergreen that looked exactly the correct size by the substantial fireplace. A footman closed the wood and iron front door, then another pair of footmen set up a tall ladder beside the tree. “Perhaps like being involved in something treasonous?”
“Possibly.”
We moved on in our slow circle around the room, pausing to tilt our heads back and study a stag’s head that was mounted high on the oak paneling. I wrapped the lapels of my cardigan over my chest and crossed my arms in an effort to warm up after the cold breeze that had flowed in through the open door. “On my way down here, I tried to picture Tommy setting up the note and the string, then arranging the carefully balanced rock for Bankston and”—I shrugged—“I couldn’t imagine it. It doesn’t seem at all like the sort of thing Tommy would do. He strikes me as impulsive and spontaneous.”
“I agree. He’s a bit of a wildcard. Madge, on the other hand . . .”
“Completely the opposite. Much more strategic.”
“Have you ever seen her play?” Jasper asked.
“No. Have you?”
Jasper nodded. “Last year, at a tournament in France. She’s very”—his gaze, which had been on the stag’s antlers, drifted to the group by the tree—“mechanical in her play. Technically, her strokes are brilliant. Clean and precise.”
“You make her sound rather dispassionate.”
“On the contrary. Her execution in her strokes is flawless, but there’s an underlying drive, or passion, that she keeps in check. It surfaced a few times. I remember a long series of volleys in particular. The whole crowd seemed to hold their breath as the ball went back and forth, back and forth. When she finally smashed the ball home and won the point, she clenched her fist and looked triumphant. I remember thinking at the time that she only seems to be passionless.”
Francie’s husky tones carried across the room as she laughed at some quip from Theo. Mr. Eggers stood off to the side, smoking and staring out the window, while Mr. Sprigg chatted with Blix as she untangled the tinsel.
Miss Brinkle sat in a chair, her russet-colored gown with tufts and ruffles spread around her. She braced her hands on her cane as she leaned forward to tell Mrs. Searsby something. Miss Brinkle’s hair ornament, a decorative spray of peacock feathers that stuck straight up from her coiffure, quivered as she emphasized her point. With her plump figure and the feathers bobbing over her head, she reminded me more than ever of a pineapple.
Tommy shifted the ladder around closer to the tree as Madge distributed ornaments. “I can see Madge executing all the little details perfectly to get rid of their problem,” Jasper said.
“I can too. But I suppose the question is, would she have had the opportunity to do it? No one knew Bankston would go to London until the morning he left.”
“Yes, but Mrs. Searsby mentioned it at breakfast.”
“How do you know that? You didn’t arrive until later that day.”
“I dropped by and gave Miss Ravenna an update before luncheon. I asked her about it, and she said everyone was in the breakfast room when Mrs. Searsby mentioned it.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes—Madge, Tommy, Mr. Eggers, Mr. Culwell, and Francie. That’s everyone except Mr. Searsby.”
“How is Miss Ravenna?”
“She’s running a fever and would only speak to me from across the room.”
“Poor thing.” What a difference a few days had made in my feelings about Bebe Ravenna. “I hope she feels better soon.”
“If I know Miss Ravenna, she won’t be confined to her room long. She’ll be up and about soon, I’m sure.”
We walked on to a glass display case of daggers, and Jasper said, “But getting back to our original topic—we won’t have much longer alone—everyone knew Bankston was leaving.”
“Did everyone know his destination?”
“Yes. Mrs. Searsby mentioned the name of the flower shop and that it was in London.”
“Then it would be simple for someone to go into the village and send a telegram to be held at the flower shop until Bankston arrived. The telegram could set up a meeting with Bankston and instruct him to return to Holly Hill Lodge by way of the belvedere.”
Jasper leaned over the case to take a closer look at the jeweled handle of a dagger. “That would give someone plenty of time to set up the—trap, let’s call it—at the belvedere.”
“We need to find out if anyone went into town. I doubt a murderer would entrust that type of task to anyone else’s hands.”
“It’ll be difficult to track down everyone’s movements.”
“Not if we check with the servants,” I said. “They’ll know who stayed in and who left the house.”
“Good idea, but Mr. and Mrs. Searsby want us to be discreet. Questioning the staff would certainly draw attention.”
“Not if we use Grigsby, as you suggested. He’s the embodiment of discretion. As long as I don’t ask Grigsby, I’m sure it will work out fine.” Jasper and I occasionally used the telephone to communicate, and that had put me in Grigsby’s bad books. Proper young ladies did not telephone single gentlemen’s residences.
“All right, I’ll have him begin inquiries. He will do it quietly, of course.”
Mr. Sprigg called out to us, “Are the two lovebirds joining us for tree decorating?”
“In a moment,” Jasper replied good-naturedly. “The armaments are rather intriguing.”
“Armaments? Hmm. I imagine it’s your companion, rather than those dusty old things, that is keeping you occupied. If I were a younger man, I’d give you a run for your money with the lovely lady,” he said with a flare of his eyebrow in my direction before returning to the group by the tree.
I fixed a smile on my face as I said in a low voice, “You know, it isn’t necessarily only someone at Holly Hill Lodge who could have set up the trap for Bankston. It could have been Mr. Sprigg. If Bankston took the path that runs by the belvedere when he went to the village, Mr. Sprigg might have seen Bankston when he departed for London.”
Jasper tipped his head to the side as he thought. “But how would he know Bankston was going to London?”
“You’ve got me there, I’ll admit. Perhaps Mrs. Searsby or one of the other guests told Mr. Sprigg.”
“And what would Mr. Sprigg’s motive be?”
“The same as everyone else’s, to stop Bankston from blackmailing him.”
“Mr. Sprigg wasn’t in Bankston’s notebook,” Jasper countered.
“No, but I’ve learned that if I draw the circle of suspicion too small, I may miss an important suspect. Mr. Sprigg is a randy old thing. Perhaps Bankston discovered a liaison that Mr. Sprigg would rather keep quiet.”
“Possible, but if we’re including him, we must also add Miss Brinkle to our theoretical list.”
“I know you’re joking, but you’re right.” I watched the feathers quiver on Miss Brinkle’s hair ornaments as she made a point while chatting with Blix. “She seems unlikely. I don’t think her cane is for show.”
“Yes, I agree. I do think she appears to need the help of it to get around. Managing the stairs would be difficult for her.”
“And then there’s also Blix,” I added, playing devil’s advocate. “She’s like Miss Brinkle. Both of them are late arrivals and weren’t here—as far as we know—when the trap was set. Either one of them could have arrived earlier, positioned the rock to fall at the belvedere, then made a show of arriving later to put themselves out of the running.”
A footman arrived with a yellow-hued cocktail on a salver and held it out to Miss Brinkle. She scooped it up, sipped, and sighed with satisfaction. I studied her for a moment. “No, it’s too far-fetched. I can’t imagine Miss Brinkle climbing the stairs of the belvedere or balancing the stone so that it would fall. Blix, on the other hand—”
Jasper nodded. “She seems quite capable.”
“One would have to be to travel the world alone as she does.”
As we began to move slowly across the flagstones toward the tree, Jasper said, “I’ve had a very busy morning myself.”
“Really?”
“You sound as if you don’t believe me.”
“You must admit, you’re not generally an early riser.”
“Normally, no. But at the moment I’m searching for a certain valuable item—rather motivates one since the clock is ticking away.”
“Yes, we only have one more day to locate Bankston’s directions to the letter. What have you been doing?”
“I had a look in Mr. Theo Culwell’s room.”
“Really?”
“Don’t look so shocked. You may be the daughter of a vicar, but I don’t suffer from your moral impediments. I had a very unconventional upbringing.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“However, the security of the nation is.”
I dipped my head. “I can see your point. Find anything?”
“Yes. Mr. Culwell is carrying several letters of introduction. Most from businessmen in America. Including one from a familiar name in Kansas City—a Mr. Row.”
“Forgeries?” I asked as we moved across the flagstones to the tree.
“I’d imagine so. However, Mr. Culwell certainly hasn’t been lying about his travels. He has orders for his aeroplane cases from citizens in Birmingham, Manchester, and Yorkshire, and a stack of checks to go with them.”
Jasper stopped walking while we were still out of earshot of the group. “One other thing—I had a peek in the linen closet that Mr. Eggers is using for a darkroom. Grigsby told me that the staff has been instructed not to use the closet while Mr. Eggers is in residence. Something that is strictly off-limits fairly cries out to be examined.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. And what did you find?”
“All the accouterments that one would use to develop film—chemicals, drying racks, tongs, shallow baths. Everything as it should be, except for one thing.”
“What was that?” I asked as Francie handed Theo a small box of ornaments and motioned to the ladder. From where I stood, I could see Theo’s Adam’s apple bob as he eyed the ladder before he climbed a few rungs.
“A red light. As talented as Mr. Eggers may be, I doubt he can develop photos in complete darkness.”
“Perhaps the light broke, and he threw it away?”
“Then he’d have requested something to use instead. A lamp covered with red fabric, perhaps. But Grigsby tells me he’s made no such request.”
“So Mr. Eggers is here under false pretenses too? What a lot of scoundrels at this Christmas celebration.”
Francie’s voice carried to us as she called out, “Not there, Theo. Higher. Those ornaments must go at the top of the tree.”
He gave a jerky nod and ascended several rungs of the ladder.
Jasper picked up a pile of tinsel and began to unwind it, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “I took a gander around Mr. Eggers’ bedroom as well.”
“How industrious of you.”
Jasper grinned. “I do try.” Then his face turned serious. “Mr. Eggers does have many photographs of snowflakes in his room—more than he showed us at dinner. Fascinating and rather beautiful. They certainly weren’t taken by a dilettante, so I’m not sure about him.”
“Then he bears further investigation as well.”
Jasper let out a sigh. “Yes. It’s all very interesting, and I understand you’re keen on finding out who the murderer is—I’m interested in discovering the truth around that as well. But unfortunately, I found nothing that resembled a cipher or code that Bankston could have passed along to Culwell or Eggers which they could use to find the location of a letter to carry away from here.”
“Theo!” Francie’s sharp voice cut through the chatter. “Don’t tilt the box! You’ll—”
He jerked his hand up, and the ladder rocked with his sudden movement. Theo, his face going the color of snow, leaned into the ladder, and his sudden shift caused it to teeter even more.
The box of decorations listed lower in his hand, forgotten. The ornaments fell in a cascade, shattering as they hit the stone floor, sending out tiny explosions of glass shards. The ladder swayed and tilted, and Jasper sprinted toward it.