“Did she seem all right when she left you?” Lisa asked, eyeing Len with suspicion.
“She was fine. What do you think I did to her?” Len exclaimed. He looked really worried, probably for his own reputation.
Lisa raised her hands in a placating gesture. “No one is suggesting you did anything, Len. Why don’t you get started on the soup before it gets cold, and I will go check Yvonne’s room,” she suggested.
“Thank you,” Len said, his relief obvious. He seemed happy to pass the problem of Yvonne on to Lisa.
“She’s probably just having a lie-in,” Anna said. “Clearly, she didn’t get enough sleep last night. She won’t thank you for embarrassing her like this.”
“It’s not my intention to embarrass her,” Len said, “but something is not right. I just know it.”
I ate in silence, enjoying the thick and creamy texture of the leek and stilton soup Alastair had prepared. I couldn’t help wondering if Yvonne was all right, though. She seemed so cool, so controlled, but last night, something had shifted. I’d seen it in her eyes. I suspected we all had.
Lisa returned to the dining room a few minutes later. She looked agitated. “I knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so I used the master key to go in. Yvonne isn’t there, and her bed is still neatly made. I don’t know if she never went to bed or if she made it this morning before stepping out.”
“Are her clothes and toiletries still in the room?” Anna asked. “Perhaps she decided to leave early and didn’t tell anyone.”
Paul threw Len a meaningful look. The walk of shame might have turned into a panicked departure in the middle of the night.
“All her things are there,” Lisa replied. “Including her purse and mobile. I think we should look for her.” She looked around the room. “Alastair and I will check the staff areas and the outbuildings. Len, please walk down to the reservoir. Perhaps she went for a walk and lost track of time,” Lisa said, clearly comfortable with delegating. “Anna and Paul, would you mind checking the garden and the carriage house?”
“I just came from there,” Anna said. “She wasn’t in the carriage house.”
“The garden, then. It’s quite extensive. She might just be working in some quiet corner. There’s an old gazebo that can’t be seen from the house. She might have set up in there.”
“Of course,” Paul said. “Shall we?” he asked Anna, who was already pushing away from the table.
“What can I do?” Kyle asked.
“You and Nicole can check the cellar,” Lisa said as soon as Paul and Anna left the room. My apprehension must have shown in my face, since she added, “Don’t worry, it’s not spooky. But it is quite sizeable.”
“Do we need a torch?” Kyle asked.
“There are lights down there. Come, I’ll show you.”
“Is there an attic?” Kyle asked as he followed Lisa and me from the room.
“There is, but it’s locked. Unless Yvonne picked the lock, she couldn’t have got in,” Lisa replied.
She led us to an arched door in a low-ceilinged corridor just off the kitchen. “Ring my mobile if you find her,” Lisa said. “In the meantime, I’ll fetch Alastair—he’s just putting the finishing touches on the chicken—and we’ll start our search.”
“Are you afraid?” Kyle asked as he pulled open the door and peered into the dark, narrow passage.
“No, but I’m not overly fond of cellars,” I replied, though I was afraid. This was a very old house with a questionable history. Lord only knew what horrors that cellar had seen.
We descended the narrow stairwell and emerged into an open space. The ceiling was low and vaulted, the entire cellar made of gray stone that made me feel slightly claustrophobic despite the bright light that came from relatively modern light fixtures affixed to the wall at regular intervals. The cellar was vast, but it was clean and uncluttered, not a cobweb or broken piece of furniture in sight. Kyle and I walked along the main corridor, looking around. We passed an industrial-size refrigerator and several crates of fresh produce. Alastair stored what he didn’t immediately need down here to keep it fresh.
“I didn’t see you this morning,” Kyle said as we continued walking. “Were you working in your room?”
“I went to see Reverend Hargreaves.”
Kyle turned to look at me in astonishment. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it, asking after a moment, “Was he able to shed any light?”
“Yes, actually, enough to provide a tentative timeline of events.”
“How did you get there?” Kyle asked.
“I took an Uber.”
“Must have cost a bomb,” he observed.
“It’s all right,” I said, shrugging. “It was worth it.”
“I would have taken you. I said I would,” Kyle said, a note of reproach creeping into his voice.
“I didn’t want to disturb you. You are here to work. Kyle, do you think something really happened to Yvonne? Might she have left without taking anything with her?”
“Her car is still in the car park,” Kyle replied.
“How do you know?”
“Kind of hard to miss. It’s the red Jaguar. I saw her arriving in it.”
“So, she’s still on the premises.”
“Unless she wandered off into the woods, or into the reservoir.”
I shivered involuntarily as I imagined walking into that calm lake, taking step after measured step toward the tower of St. Botolph’s until the water came up to my chest, then my shoulders, then… I tore my mind away from the disturbing image. What reason
