“There is that.” He seemed restless being cooped up in my small car. He looked out the window, shifted around a bit, turned back to look at me. “Truth is, it’s my sister who’s really got the business brain. I expect I’ll make such a mess of it all that Father will end up making her the chairman.”
He didn’t sound devastated at the thought of being replaced by his younger sister, and I started to laugh. “Miles, you are not fooling me. I’ve seen you act. You’re planning to act incompetent, aren’t you? You don’t have any intention of following in your father’s footsteps.”
His grin was entirely too charming. “You know me too well, Lucy. And yes. That’s exactly my plan.”
Miles had come close to his big break in theater less than a year ago. He deserved a second chance at the spotlight. Maybe he’d never do more than regional theater or bit parts in television shows and movies, but he could also end up as a big star. I thought he’d never be truly happy until he’d given his dream a try. I felt altogether better to know that he was planning exactly that, even if it did involve deceiving his father.
We were talking about movies we’d both seen and sharing our opinions, and it was nice to talk and laugh, and forget about murder, for the rest of our journey. But soon enough, we were pulling into the drive of the manor house, and the good feeling began to ebb.
This was a crime scene. A police van was parked in the drive. Even worse was a black, late-model Tesla. A car I knew all too well. “Oh no,” I said under my breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said with false cheer. “I forgot to tell Violet about an order, that’s all. I’ll call her later.”
We got out, and Miles shouldered the bag of study materials he’d brought for Alex. We trod up the front path, and he rang the bell. The door was opened by Mrs. Briggs, who seemed delighted to see us. “Lucy. How nice to see you again. And Miles, Alex will be pleased to see some friends. Come in.”
We’d barely gotten inside when a very elegant-looking older woman, with stylish blond hair and a trim, athletic figure, came out of the dining room. Unlike Mrs. Briggs, she did not look delighted to see us. “Miles. Kind of you to bring Alexander his books. Not that he’s likely to use them.”
Miles looked a bit taken aback at her coldness. “Hello. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“I never recall a worse one.”
What could either of us say to that? She looked me over as though he might have dragged me in the door by mistake. “No, that’s fine. It’s just that the house seems overrun with people today.” She sighed heavily. “I’m going to have to get the billiard table recovered. And we just had that new felt put on.”
It was an act of will for me not to gape at the woman. She acted like a murdered girl in her house was an inconvenience. An annoying housekeeping matter, like finding a mouse in the pantry.
I looked at Mrs. Briggs, and she was very studiously holding the placid smile on her face. I had a feeling she had worked hard on perfecting that expression and it would take a lot to shift it when her mistress was around.
Mrs. Briggs said, “You’ve caught us at a bit of a bad moment. But I know Alex will be very pleased to see you.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment and then said, “Why don’t you come back to the kitchen?” Oh, yes, please. I’d be so much more happy in the servants’ quarters. Besides, perhaps if I was in the kitchen, I’d be less likely to run into…
“Lucy?”
Damn. I tried to look innocent as I turned to the man coming out of the lounge across the hall from the dining room. “Rafe. What are you doing here?”
Obviously he was looking at me like that should have been his line.
Luckily, Alex came running lightly down the stairs. I thought he looked tired. Possibly hungover. He needed a shave, and his hair could definitely use a comb. He’d gone beyond stylishly disheveled to just plain disheveled. Still, he did his best to assume his usual devil-may-care, cheeky grin. “Hey, mate,” he said to Miles. When he looked at me, he wasn’t quite as dismissive as his mother but not far off. “And you’re the waitress from the other night.”
I smiled at him sweetly. “I am.”
Miles held up the bag of books.
He looked pleased. “Yeah. Good. Why don’t you come upstairs?”
Mrs. Briggs said, “I’ll bring you up some tea. Do you want some sandwiches?”
I’d have said no thank you, but Alex said, “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Mrs. B.”
I had to admit I was delighted to be getting a glimpse of upstairs. I followed the two guys up the stairs and pretended I didn’t notice two very cold eyes burning into my back.
Alex had most of the top floor of the house. A huge bedroom, his own lounge, which included a massive television and all sorts of gaming equipment and computers and boy stuff, another smaller room that contained workout equipment and a desk that didn’t look as though it got a lot of use, and a large, modern bathroom.
We all sat in the TV room. I admired the antique fireplace and the high ceilings and the beautiful windows that looked out on the green and peaceful fields of Oxfordshire. There were sheep grazing, and a line of trees hid what was probably a view of the motorway. But looking out that window, I bet that view hadn’t changed much in the last two hundred years.
“How are you holding up?” Miles asked as soon as we were settled.
Alex slumped
