Addie recognized Timothy Hay immediately and hung back while Mr. Hunter quizzed the groom about the horses whickering at their intrusion. He was careful not to show a particular interest in the new arrivals but was regaled with their details, nevertheless. Nose tickling, she pretended to examine the various rosettes lining the window of the stable master’s office. He was not present, only the young man Mr. Hunter spoke to, and one even younger who waxed a saddle with grave determination.
It was kind of the detective to try to set Mr. Cassidy’s mind at rest. The man was sure to be pleased that the sale was going to go through after all, and he couldn’t doubt that the horses would have a good home. From the gleam of their coats and the immaculate condition of the stable’s interior, it seemed to Addie that they lived a far better life than a great many people nowadays.
There was a cracked leather sofa in the office, and she slipped inside to wait. She checked her wristwatch, estimating which train Mr. Hunter would be able to catch once they returned to Compton-Under-Wood. She wished he’d consider staying one more night, not relishing being alone with Mr. Cassidy. But perhaps the Irishman would go back to Town with him and leave her in peace.
To do what? She could hardly accuse Evelyn of being a murderess again. And Rupert would still be underfoot until all of this was settled. Addie was developing one of her headaches. She simply was not cut out for detection, or, really, death of any kind.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Rupert appeared on the couch and patted her arm reassuringly.
Addie stopped herself from yelling and slid down so she wouldn’t be visible through the window. She didn’t need to be seen talking to herself again. And by now, Rupert’s sudden appearance shouldn’t surprise her into making any noise at all.
“What are you doing here?” she mouthed.
“Speak up, love. I can’t hear you.”
He was so annoying. She glared at him, and he responded by glaring back.
“Fine. If you refuse my help, I will not be responsible for the consequences. I believe you’re still holding a grudge about my less-than-perfect performance as a husband.”
“That’s an understatement,” Addie muttered. “And I’m not holding a grudge. I’ve forgiven you.” More or less.
Perhaps less.
“I suppose I would hate me too if our positions were reversed, but I cannot undo the past. Believe me, if I could, I would—I’d be a regular choir boy, pure as the driven snow. Immaculate as the Conception. An archangel.”
“You’re not even an angel yet.”
“A mere technicality. I’m doing the best I can.”
“By sneaking and spying!” she hissed.
“What do you expect me to do but sneak and spy? My options are somewhat limited. It’s not as if I’m going to lower myself and put on a cut-out sheet and chains and frighten people into a confession.”
“Do ghosts do that?”
“Those with inferior intelligence,” Rupert replied, mulish.
Addie knew it was pointless to argue. He was as fed up with their current situation as she was. “Are you absolutely sure that Evelyn is guilty?”
“One cannot be sure of anything in this life—well, your life, can one? I’m told things are properly sorted in Heaven, all black and white, cut and dried, good and evil, sweet and even sweeter, not that I seem to be any closer to finding out for myself. But all the arrows point to her. I’d be very careful around her if I were you.”
Addie shivered. “I have no intention of seeing her.”
“You know what they say about best-laid plans. She’s about to turn up here very shortly.”
“What? How do you know?”
“How do I know anything? Consider yourself warned. You should take your policeman and scram.” With that, Rupert blew her a goodbye kiss and disappeared.
“Oh!” Addie leaped up from the sofa. He might have said a little sooner, and she would have dragged Inspector Hunter out of the stable as quickly as possible. The very last person she wanted to bump into was Evelyn Fernald. The hell with Mr. Cassidy’s horses.
She waved through the window trying to get the detective’s attention to no avail. Stepping out of the office, she brushed a bit of straw from her skirt and marched over to the men, who were deep in horse-y conversation.
“I have to go.” Addie felt like a coward, but Rupert had spooked her in more ways than one.
“I’ll be right with you,” Mr. Hunter said.
“No. I need to leave now.” In her sudden panic, blood was surging to Addie’s skin, spine tingling, hair raising. Something was going to happen if they stayed, she was sure of it. She hadn’t felt this frightened since she was held captive by a crazed killer.
Only three months ago. She really needed to make significant changes to her life, or she soon would be crazed herself.
But even if Evelyn came to the stable, surely Addie could pretend that nothing was wrong. Make polite small talk. She had plenty of practice pretending; it’s what ladies did approximately seventy-five percent of the time. One was always interested in whatever one’s dull dinner partner had to say. One prayed in chilly, musty churches when one was unsure that the Fellow Upstairs was paying attention. One plastered on a smile when one wanted to scream.
One turned a blind eye to one’s husband’s infidelities and kept up appearances if it killed one.
It was all make-believe.
Mr. Hunter looked at her with concern. “What is it, Lady Adelaide? Are you unwell?”
“Yes! That’s it. My, ah, allergies.”
“Perhaps we should go back into the house. Mrs. Lewis strikes me as a woman who knows what to do when one is ill. Or shall I drive you home straightaway? I’m sure arrangements can be made to get Jack’s truck back.”
Addie would feel better with Mr. Hunter behind the wheel. She loved to drive, but right now her hands were not too steady and quite damp inside her gloves. “Yes, please.”
But it was too late to flee. Hugh’s mother strode through the open doorway in her elegant black riding habit, stopping short when she caught sight of them. The groom whipped off his cap and tried to stand taller.
“H-hello, Evelyn,” Addie squeaked.
“Robby, get Jupiter ready for me, there’s a good lad.” She turned to Addie as the boy dashed off. “Trim told me you’d come but had mysterious business with the inspector. How are you, dear?”
“Uh. Not quite the thing at the moment. Mr. Hunter and I were just leaving.”
Evelyn took a few steps forward and placed a cool hand on Addie’s forehead. It was all Addie could do not to flinch. “No fever. What seems to be the trouble? Headache? Tummy upset? I have everything you might need in the stillroom.”
“No!” Addie mustn’t shout. “No, thank you. I’m simply tired and a little stuffy-nosed. I don’t need to tell you what a difficult week it’s been. How is Hugh managing?”
“He’s strong. Everything happens for a reason, don’t you agree? Or at least that’s what our vicar says. I don’t imagine Mr. Hunter agrees with that, however.”
“That’s not been my experience in my line of work, Lady Fernald. Often a criminal’s reason makes very little sense to the average person.”
“Aren’t the usual motivations love, money, and revenge?” Addie asked. At least that was true for the mystery books she’d read.
“Generally. But then, it’s always a mistake to generalize. Each case is unique.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re happy this one is over and anxious to get back to London,” Evelyn said. “It’s all been a tempest in a teacup here—three very unfortunate accidents. Unlucky, but we at Fernald Hall will survive. We always do.”
Addie seized her chance. “I have a question for you before we leave, though. Would you perchance know where Murray has gone? I have a friend looking to employ a lady’s maid.”
“Goodness, how should I know? Hugh dealt with her.”
“Oh. That’s odd. When I stopped by the Pig and Shilling, Mr. Parks said you spoke with her only this morning.” Mr. Hunter shot her a warning look, but she pretended not to see it.
“And so I did. But she didn’t reveal where she was bound, I’m afraid. A peculiar woman, really. I don’t think she would suit your friend. Pamela, being so good-natured, was a trifle lax with the servants, and Murray took advantage.”
“I got the impression when I interviewed her she was devoted to your daughter-in-law,” Mr. Hunter said.
“Well, yes. As I said, Pamela spoiled the servants. Allowed far too much fraternization. Murray really didn’t know her place and wasn’t all that bright to boot. A bad combination.”
Mr. Hunter mustered up a charming smile. “You must be relieved that she left your employ, then. I’m curious—why did you visit with her this morning if you disliked her so? Why waste your time?”
Evelyn’s face went blank for a few seconds, then she recovered. “Really, Inspector I can’t see how that’s any of your business. I was under the impression your work here was finished.”
“So it is. But should any new evidence come to light, I’m obliged to act upon it.”
“New evidence? What on earth do you mean?” Her tone was mocking.
“I understand there is a letter.”
Addie was stunned that he was using her Rupert-acquired information when he said he wasn’t going to. Did he have prickles up and down his spine too?
“You are quite mistaken,” Evelyn said.
“You didn’t ask me who sent the letter or what its contents are,” Mr. Hunter said.
“Because there is no letter! I have no idea what you are inferring, but I must insist you drop the subject. I’ve received nothing whatsoever in the post that could be seen as ‘evidence’ for anything from anyone. Unless, of course, you’re curious about my tradesmen’s bills. I did order a new hat last month, which I really didn’t need. Evidence of my profligacy, I’m sure. Shame on me. But hardly a crime. Now, if that’s all, Inspector, I’m going for my ride.”
“Sorry, I must have misunderstood my source. So, no one is trying to blackmail you? That’s a relief. Blackmailers are never satisfied.”
“Your source? This is ridiculous! Who in the household has fed you such rubbish?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential. But if I were to go upstairs and inspect the contents of your jewelry box, you wouldn’t object?”
Mr. Hunter was taking a dreadful risk, and it was all Addie’s fault. For all she knew, Evelyn had burned the letter before she came out to ride.
What if Evelyn complained to Deputy Commissioner Olive? Mr. Hunter could lose his job!
Oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, Robby brought the horse to his mistress. “Leave us. Take Liam with you.”
No please. No thank you. The boys didn’t ask any questions, just filed out of the stables on an unexpected break. Evelyn waited until they were gone before she spoke.
“What are your ambitious plans for me, Mr. Hunter? You’ll never be able to prove a thing, and then what will your future be at Scotland Yard after I’m done with you?”