Murder at Longbourn

later, Bridget’s bright red head popped around the door frame. Colin, looking like a rumpled teddy bear in a tweed blazer, stood behind her. Bridget’s smile of greeting faded as Detective Stewart continued his tirade.

“You are not a police officer!” he boomed. “You are a private citizen. A private citizen who has no authority to do anything in this case!”

My temper flared and I shouted back. “Authority!? I don’t need your authority to help my aunt. It’s absurd that anyone would suspect her even for a moment of having anything to do with this! And yet that is precisely what is happening. My aunt is innocent, Detective Stewart, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and watch her go to jail because you and the rest of the police department want to pin this on her!”

The room was silent as everyone waited for Detective Stewart to respond. He took his time, performing some sort of breathing exercises first. When he did speak, his voice sounded strained and unnatural. “No one is trying to pin anything on anybody. Two people have been brutally killed and a third is recovering in the hospital. We are doing our best to find the killer before he or she strikes again. Your intentions may be good”—he paused, glaring at me as though he found this hard to believe—“but you have interfered with official police business. I am warning you, Ms. Parker, don’t do it again, or the only one going to jail here will be you!”

With that, he turned on his heel and slammed out of the room, charging past Bridget and Colin. They watched him go with identical startled expressions. In the foyer, I could hear him talking with Ichabod.

Henry turned to the rest of us, his face tight with anger, and said, “I will not stay in a place where I am going to be spied on and accused of murder. I’m confident that Detective Stewart can suggest a reputable inn for us to stay in while he concludes his investigation. And you can be sure that I will relay this entire incident to Mrs. Dubois. When she hears of this outrage, you can be assured that she will make certain that none of her many acquaintances ever come here!” Reaching down to grab Joan’s hand, he pulled her to her feet. “Come on, Joan,” he said. “We are leaving.”

Joan did not meet our eyes as she followed her husband out of the room. In the foyer, I could hear them speaking with Detective Stewart.

None of us spoke. Finally, Bridget turned to me with a smirk and intoned slowly, “And you were just going to catch up on some reading.”

CHAPTER 26

No good deed goes unpunished.

—CLARE BOOTHE LUCE

WITH THE INN empty of people who could seriously be considered suspects, we all stayed up late bringing Bridget and Colin up to date on the investigation and swapping murder theories. They were alternately horrified and enthralled by what we told them. And they laughed far too long and hard at Peter’s imitation of me falling out of a chair. By the end of the night, Colin and Peter were apparently on their way to becoming bosom buddies, and even Bridget was giving me none too subtle nudges about Peter. At one point, when everyone else was talking, she leaned over to me and whispered, “Peter’s gorgeous! Why don’t you like him, again?”

“Because as a child, he was the spawn of Satan,” I whispered back.

“Well, he’s not a child now,” she said.

I rolled my eyes at her and merely said, “Once a spawn, always a spawn.”

But I knew I wasn’t being completely fair. I didn’t really hate Peter anymore, although I was still mad about the inn. A psychiatrist might diagnose my feelings as misdirected anger over the injustice of Aunt Winnie’s current situation, but I don’t really hold much with psychiatrists. And besides, it’s just easier to be mad at Peter—after all, it’s an emotion I’m familiar with.

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. Daniel was still at Lauren’s house, leaving the inn to us. Aunt Winnie, Randy, Bridget, and Colin were drinking their coffee in the reading room when I came downstairs. I didn’t know where Peter was and I told myself I didn’t care. I got myself a cup of coffee from the kitchen and walked down the hall. In the foyer, Ichabod was again at his post in the green brocade chair. He nodded in my direction but said nothing. The front door opened. It was Daniel. His face was drawn and haggard.

I studied him with a newfound detachment. I had impulsively decided to like him before he’d even said two words to me. I could see now that he had never had any partiality for me. Daniel merely attached himself to anyone who gave him the slightest encouragement. He’d jumped from me, to Susie in the acting troupe, to Polly all in a matter of days. What I didn’t know was whether his affair with Polly was just another step in his fluctuating affections or had a more sinister explanation. Cool analyses aside, I was still pissed at him. He was, in my opinion, simply one of the most worthless men in all of Great Britain.

“Rough night?” I asked.

He grimaced. “You could say that. I spent most of it with Detective Stewart.”

“I see. And how’s Polly?”

“About the same, I’d say. He grilled her pretty hard, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, adding further emphasis to my next words. “How’s Polly?”

He gazed at me uncomprehendingly before the gist of my meaning penetrated his brain. At least he had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Elizabeth,” he began, “it’s not what you think …”

That was the second time in forty-eight hours that someone had told me that. “Really?” I snapped. “And what do I think, Daniel? That you’re a rat bastard? That you used me to keep your relationship with Polly off the radar screen? Or do I think that you and your little girlfriend killed Gerald so you could both get what you want? Now which one is it? A, B, C, or all of the above?”

He stood very still. The only indication that he was upset was the appearance of two spots of red that blazed on his cheeks. He glanced uneasily at Ichabod. Ichabod gazed back with open interest. “I didn’t have anything to do with Gerald’s death,” Daniel said. “And I didn’t use you. Polly and I, well, we fell into that after Gerald died. It wasn’t planned—”

I cut him off with a harsh laugh. “Oh, it was planned all right. Don’t kid yourself on that account. If you do, then you’re sorely underestimating Polly. The question I’d be asking myself now if I were you is exactly how much of this was planned.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes again strayed to Ichabod.

I shrugged. “You’re a bright boy. Figure it out yourself.” Taking a sip of coffee, I said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Turning on my heel, I walked into the reading room and bumped into Aunt Winnie and Bridget. They made no apology for eavesdropping. Bridget said, “I’m not saying that I blame you, but are you sure that was wise?” On the couch, Colin sat reading the newspaper. Without raising his eyes from the print, he said to no one in particular, “No, of course it wasn’t wise. In fact, it was a headstrong, stupid thing to do.” I ignored him.

“I don’t care anymore,” I said. “Besides, Ichabod was out there and heard the whole thing. I doubt I’m in any more danger than anyone else. And speaking of danger, has anyone heard how Linnet is doing?”

Aunt Winnie nodded. “Peter just went to find out. I want her to come here when she’s released. There’s safety in numbers.”

I took a seat by the fireplace, ignoring Peter as he strode into the room. “I just got off the phone with the hospital,” he said, after an uneasy glance in my direction. “They’re ready to release her. She’s perfectly fine, just a little weak. Her car is still at Lauren’s house; she asked if someone could drive it back to her place. She said there’s a spare key in the glove box.”

“I’ll do it,” I said, putting my cup down. “Bridget, can you come with me to Lauren’s house? I’ll get Linnet’s car and drive it to her place. You can follow me and we can drive back here.”

“Sure.”

“Are you sure?” asked Aunt Winnie. “Randy and I could do it.”

Peter said nothing. He just watched me.

“No,” I said. “I want to go. Getting out might do me some good.”

I could tell that Aunt Winnie wanted to say more, but she only nodded. “Okay, then.”

Inside my car, I started up the engine with a sigh. “Are you okay?” Bridget asked.