25 December 1923
The organ music floated through the church, and I drew a breath before we launched into the final verse of ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.’ If Jasper were there, we would have shared a glance of secret understanding as we began the last carol, but he hadn’t appeared that morning. I assumed he’d worked late into the night sorting out the cipher in the crossword puzzle. Miss Ravenna had also not accompanied us to the church. She’d sent word to Mrs. Searsby that her fever had broken, but she intended to remain in her room and rest during the holiday celebrations.
The sturdy little church was a hodgepodge of styles. The building itself was Norman, but it also had medieval stained-glass windows and a Victorian tiled roof. Today it was full of Christmas morning worshippers. I was wedged in at the end of a pew. Blix and I shared a hymnal, and her clear alto voice hit every note perfectly as we sang the chorus of the Christmas carol for a final time.
The skies had remained clear during the evening, and we’d been able to walk from Holly Hill Lodge through the woods along the shoveled path to the village to attend Christmas service. We’d taken the short route that Jasper and I had walked when we went down to the village the morning after my arrival. It was shorter than the path that went by the belvedere. It hadn’t taken more than a quarter-hour of walking in the bracing air to reach the point where the path emerged from the woods near the village church.
The interior of the church was rather plain and austere, which showed off the stained-glass lancet windows. Lit by sunlight reflected off the snow outside, the colorful panes glowed in ruby, sapphire, emerald, and topaz tones, casting splashes of color over the holly and ivy decorations. It was quite moving as the voices and the organ chords blended in a swell that filled the church.
As the last notes of the organ faded, the vicar said the blessing, then there was a hubbub of movement as everyone shuffled out of the pews. Once outside, I pulled my hat brim a bit lower to shade my eyes against the glare of the sunlight on the snow. A tattered line of clouds had moved in, which created some relief from the constant brilliance.
Blix had followed me out, and we paused in the churchyard to wait for the group from the Lodge. A petite woman with white hair and vivid hazel eyes approached Blix.
“Happy Christmas, Mrs. Cox,” Blix said. “Lovely service.”
“Yes. Wasn’t it? I do enjoy it when the church is full. So nice to have it resound with song—and Christmas songs, at that.”
Blix shifted so I was included in their conversation. “Let me present Olive Belgrave. She’s a guest at Holly Hill Lodge. She’s a detective. Olive, this is Mrs. Cox, my former headmistress.”
“How do you do?”
I expected to see shock or surprise in Mrs. Cox’s face at the description of me as a detective, but she only said, “I’ve read about you, Miss Belgrave. Very good work you’ve done.”
“Why, thank you.”
She examined me, her head nodding with several little bobs as if confirming some assessment. “Yes, clearing up nasty situations is so important, isn’t it? False accusations cast a long shadow, you know. Essential to get at the truth.”
“What a refreshing perspective,” I said. “I find that often the truth is the last thing people want.”
“They’d rather have a pretty façade over the facts.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly.”
My surprise at her attitude must have come through in my voice because she added, “Working with pupils—and parents—has given me a rather realistic outlook. You must continue in your chosen profession, Miss Belgrave. Don’t give up.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Blix was smiling broadly. “Mrs. Cox is a wonderful encourager. In fact, she was a driving force in my decision to travel.”
Mrs. Cox made a noise that was very nearly a snort. “I had very little to do with it, I’m sure. The trouble with Blix was keeping her attention so that she could finish her lessons. You always were intrigued with the next new thing.”
“A good quality for a traveler, I imagine,” I said. “Was the school here in Chipping Bascomb?”
“No, I moved here after I gave up teaching. I have my own little cottage and garden.”
“Which is even more delightful than she described in her letters,” Blix said. “If I ever settle down, I want a cottage exactly like yours, Mrs. Cox.” To me, Blix said, “I stayed with Mrs. Cox before coming to Holly Hill Lodge.”
I’d been looking for a way to turn the subject to Blix’s early arrival in Chipping Bascomb, and I seized the opportunity she gave me. “But you said you’d come from Manchester.”
A tiny line appeared between Blix’s eyebrows. “But I did come from Manchester. I was there before I arrived here in Chipping Bascomb.”
Mrs. Cox tilted her head toward me as if letting me in on a secret. “I do believe we are a little too quiet here for Blix—excepting poor Mr. Bankston’s tragic accident.” She patted Blix’s arm. “After all, we’re a small village. I know it’s not as exciting as the world capitals that you’re used to staying in,” she added, her tone apologetic.
“Nonsense. Chipping Bascomb is refreshing,” Blix said. “A taste of old-world charm. You can’t find that elsewhere.”
Mrs. Cox leveled her gaze at Blix, and Blix laughed. “All right, yes. I admit it, I have itchy feet. I get a bit restless. I had to go out for a walk.”
“Were you able to see some of the countryside before the snow?” I asked.
“Yes, I had a good tramp across the fields and into the woods.”
“Did you go to the belvedere? The view is spectacular.”
“No, I went in the opposite direction. I stopped in for tea at an inn on my way back, a quaint little place called The Thistle.”
Mrs. Cox tightened her scarf around her neck with a shiver, and Blix said, “It’s awfully cold, even with the sun shining. Shall I accompany you back to your cottage, Mrs. Cox?”
“There’s no need, my dear.”
“I insist. I wouldn’t want you to slip on the slushy bits.”
Blix looped her arm through Mrs. Cox’s, then glanced at the group from Holly Hill Lodge that was assembling near the shoveled path. “Don’t wait for me, Olive. I’ll catch up.”
Blix and Mrs. Cox set off at a slow pace around the village green. I joined the group returning to the Lodge, thinking that Blix had certainly seemed to be open and honest about her visit to her old schoolmistress. If she did visit the belvedere on Saturday instead of The Thistle, she was an excellent liar.
The sun was bright, but a layer of snow still blanketed everything. The ice on the bare tree branches was melting, though. The plink of water dripping into the mounds of snow accompanied us as we walked through the woods. The ground rose gradually to the knoll where Holly Hill Lodge stood.
Mrs. Searsby dropped back and fell into step with me at the rear of the group. “I believe the snow will have melted on the roads by tomorrow, and I heard after the service that the trains will begin to run.”
“Then you expect Scotland Yard representatives to arrive tomorrow.”
“Yes, if not tonight. They may motor instead of waiting for the train.” She slowed her steps and put more distance between us and everyone else. “What have you found out?”
“Nothing definite yet.”
She puckered her lips in disappointment. “I had so hoped to have this wrapped up before our Christmas feast today.”
“I know. Mr. Rimington and I are making every effort to do just that.” I debated whether I should launch into the details of Bankston’s blackmail scheme, but a snowy walk in the woods didn’t seem to be the best time to share the news with her. “We’ve discovered a few important things. Would you like us to share them with you later today?”
“Yes, I’d like to hear what progress you’ve made, and I know Mr. Searsby will as well. Let’s see . . . we’ll have our Christmas feast and then open presents. Perhaps after those festivities are over? I’m afraid I’ll be quite busy seeing to things before then.”
“Whenever you like.”
“Then let’s meet in my husband’s study later today.”
Holly Hill Lodge came into sight. With its layer of snow, eaves dripping with icicles, and smoke drifting from the chimneys, it looked like a Christmas card.
I slipped off my coat, hat, and gloves and made a quick tour of the public rooms. I didn’t find Jasper in any of them. I went upstairs to the corridor where the bedrooms were located. In the dim hallway, a thread of light came from under Jasper’s closed bedroom door.
I hesitated a moment, glancing up and down the hall to make sure it was empty. Then I did a scandalous thing.
I tapped on his door.