The heir to Bromford Chemists then stood. “And, in honor of St. George’s Day, I give you Alexander Percival Brown.” He went on a rambling toast that I thought was meant to be thanking Alexander and his family for the use of their home but got lost somewhere along the way.
Alex stood with his phone in his hand. “I’ll be a few minutes. Carry on.”
Miles said, “Hey. I thought we weren’t meant to have phones in here.”
“Sorry. It’s important.”
And then he left. For young men who were supposed to be the height of society and Britain’s great hope for the future, they sure didn’t have many manners. My parents would have a fit if I had behaved like this during a dinner party.
When we returned to the kitchen, I said to William, “They sure seemed to like your dessert.”
“I should think most of them will be sicking it up before morning. They don’t handle their drink as well as they think they do.”
“Well, they’re young yet,” I reminded him. Feeling like an old lady at twenty-eight.
“You’re right. Their heads will harden as they get older.”
“So will their livers.”
Nothing remained now but to prepare the cheese boards and pull out the ancient port. We gave them about twenty minutes, and then William sent me in. Once again, Pamela had disappeared. Now that William had brought the dessert wine, they seemed quite happy to suck that back. I thought at this point we could have put rubbing alcohol on the table and they’d have glugged that, too.
We gave them thirty minutes to finish off the desserts before we took in cheese and port. When I got to the dining room again, there was only Randolph Chase still there. I thought he’d have gone with the others, wherever they were, except that he’d fallen asleep. He had his head cradled on his plump hands, and he was snoring softly.
I crept out of the room again, wondering where everyone was, when suddenly I heard someone yell, “Help. Somebody help me.”
I didn’t know where the noise was coming from, but every cell in my body stood to attention. There was true terror in that tone.
Suddenly I heard more yelling and shouting. “Get the police. Somebody must ring for the police.”
Oh, I did not like the sound of those words. What on earth had these foolish undergrads done now? No doubt somebody had skewered themselves with a billiard cue or tripped over their own egos.
Rafe was down the stairs and running toward me before I could even wonder what was going on. “Lucy. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Somebody’s yelling, but it sounds like it’s coming from downstairs.”
He nodded. Glanced in the room where Dolph was just waking up. “Stay here.”
And then he opened the door and went running down the stairs.
Randolph Chase woke up. “I say, where is everyone? Was there port?”
“What’s downstairs?”
“What? Oh, that’s right. They went to play billiards. I said I’d come and join them after my port and cheese.”
I left him to it and followed Rafe down the stairs. I didn’t know why, but I thought my skills might possibly be needed. There were times when being a witch was a real advantage. I could help people. Not that I was entirely sure I was going to help this bunch of idiots. I’d see what the yelling was about first.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I followed the sound of yelling. I found myself in a dark paneled billiard room. Most everyone was there, crowded around the table. But it wasn’t a game in progress. It was Pamela. Pamela laid out on the billiard table. I glanced instinctively at Rafe, who nodded in answer to my unasked question.
Pamela was dead.
Chapter 6
I crept closer. Male voices. All talking at once and some shouting, but, as often happens in shock, the sound was just a buzz in my ear. I couldn’t keep my eyes off my former friend. Her body was straight down the length of the billiard table with her arms spread out wide. I thought at first someone had posed her to look like a crucifixion, but then I realized the billiard table was covered in red baize, and the way she’d been laid out, especially wearing that white blouse, she looked like the cross of St. George. There was even a belt looped around her legs.
Rafe came over to me and we looked at poor Pamela. He said, “Whoever killed her arranged her body to look like the emblem of the Knights of the Garter.”
“Who would do such a thing?” I asked.
I could see now that she’d been strangled. I wasn’t a forensics expert, but from the marks on her throat, I had a feeling that belt that was now wrapped around her legs might be the murder weapon.
I hadn’t liked Pamela, but I would never want to see anyone finished off like this. She’d only come here tonight to serve food. How could she have made a deadly enemy so quickly?
And why would the killer then pose her corpse to resemble the highest emblem of chivalry?
Behind me came Hugo and his friend, looking slightly winded from pounding down two flights of stairs. Then Violet arrived, followed by William. The last to show was Randolph, looking bemused and half asleep as he came in saying, “What’s going on?”
I glanced around. It was a windowless room, lit pot lights inset in the ceiling. The billiards table dominated, but there was also a wet bar tucked in the back and a seating area, presumably for those not playing.
Several of the younger Gargoyles had dispensed with their coats, no doubt getting ready for their game. Winston Bromford cried out, “We only wanted a game of billiards. Oh, I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Not in here,” Miles said sharply and, grabbing him by the arm, dragged him out.
I pulled
