Yep, that sounded exactly like Pam.
“She had a bag with the college logo on it and looked exactly like any other student, so of course I let her in. She said that a couple of others would be joining them. I offered to make her tea but she said no, she’d wait until Alexander came home. I left her in the library and didn’t think too much about it, and I went about my business. The next thing I knew, there was shouting upstairs. Mr. Percival Brown it was, and he was in a terrible temper. I ran upstairs, all the way to the top floor, where Alex has his own set of rooms.”
I wondered how a woman taking her master’s in art history could possibly be working on a project with an undergrad.
“I got upstairs, and Hugo turned on me. Told me to throw her out and then he stomped past me. Furious he was. I found her in Alex’s bedroom.”
“Was she—?”
“Practically naked is what she was. Scrambling into her clothes and looking mortified, I can tell you. She said she’d meant to surprise Alexander. She was his girlfriend, so she said. She’d put herself in his bed, taken all her clothes off, and planned for him to find her there. But, unfortunately, his father saw her first.”
“She put herself naked into Alexander Percival Brown’s bed?” Man, that woman had been brazen. “In his parents’ house? When he wasn’t even home?”
“That’s right. He lives at the college, of course, but he was expected home for the weekend.” The kettle boiled, and Shannon made tea. Even though there was fresh coffee, I wanted tea made by the family housekeeper.
She kept talking as she bustled around getting out cups and milk and sugar. “I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Percival Brown accept that their son will get up to all sorts of mischief at Oxford. But they’re very strict about his behavior in the house. There was a terrible row.”
I couldn’t even imagine. I felt embarrassed for everybody involved.
“Did you see her anymore after that?”
“Oh, no. There was a terrible row, as I said, and Hugo called her a common slut and told his son he didn’t want her coming around the house again.”
I thought that Hugo showed very good judgment. Better than his son.
“Well, she got herself back in the house tonight.” And I bet she’d regret it, if she were still alive to regret anything at all.
Chapter 7
I wondered why Hugo Percival Brown hadn’t thrown Pamela out the second he caught sight of her in his home for a second time. Or had he even remembered? Maybe a woman in serving attire was all but invisible to the billionaire.
Mrs. Briggs said, “Tea will do you good. It’s very helpful for shock. Did you bring your knitting?”
I did feel shaken and was only too pleased to remain here in the seating area tucked underneath the window in the kitchen, far away from the Gargoyles. I glanced up as she brought the tea over. “I do have my knitting.” Which was weird because I almost never carried it around with me. I only had it because of Violet. I had guessed there might be downtime when we had nothing to do. She’d suggested we bring our knitting along.
Not that there’d been any downtime, between all the courses to be served and the demands for more wine.
Shannon looked pleased. “I find there’s nothing like knitting to soothe my nerves. And I have to admit mine are a bit shattered too. I’ll pop home and get mine and be right back.” She gestured to lighted windows in the carriage house. “That’s our flat over there. I won’t be a mo.”
My knitting was right here in the kitchen inside my backpack. No doubt I’d just make a mess of it, since my thoughts were all in a tangle, but maybe Shannon was right and keeping my hands busy knitting would soothe my jagged feelings. People were always telling me how soothing and relaxing knitting was. I never found that. I usually ended up with a pain between my shoulder blades and something more resembling an abandoned birds’ nest than any sort of garment that an actual human being might wear. But I remained hopeful. Running a knitting shop, I was forever being confronted with beautiful patterns and the most luxurious wools, and everybody else seemed to manage to make things. Why couldn’t I?
So I pulled out my knitting. I was working on a striped shawl all done in garter stitch. The pattern had promised this was easy, but to me, where knitting was concerned, easy was a synonym for fiendishly difficult. I settled myself in one of the easy chairs. I tried as best I could to ignore the coming and going, all the busyness associated with murder.
When Shannon Briggs came back, she had a cloth bag in one hand and a cigarette butt in the other. She was tsking with annoyance. “It’s bad enough they come here and smoke. Did they have to leave their cigarette butts on the lawn?”
I said, “Cigarette butts? How many did Jeremy smoke out there?”
“It wasn’t only Jeremy. That dreadful girl was out there smoking with him.”
“What dreadful girl?”
She motioned her head toward the downstairs. “The dead girl.” I watched her take the cigarette butt and put it in the garbage under the sink. Then she washed her hands quite fastidiously.
“You mean Pamela? She was out there smoking with Jeremy?”
“Yes.” She obviously misread my expression, for she said, “I know. Fine waitress she turned out to be.”
“No. Shannon, you have to tell the police. Exactly what time did you see Pam and Jeremy sharing a smoke?”
She looked both stunned and horrified. She picked up her knitting and put
