Authors: Marni Graff
“Fiona was with them, too.” Nora’s lips were set in a straight line. “It needs looking into, Mr. Detective Inspector. It points to Grayson as a potential killer, and you need to take this seriously. What if Gemma threatened to tell on him?”
“It’s a theory.” He watched her attitude change. She leaned forward, and her robe fell away. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her cleavage.
“Declan, it wouldn’t hurt to ask DS Higgins to pull out the accident report.”
“You vixen. Are you trying to use sex to get me to listen to your theory?” He pulled her closer. He had his own question to ask Higgins. “Because it’s definitely working.”
Chapter Thirty
“I seem to remember … telling you that your views of female psychology were rather didactic.”
Ruth: Act
II
, Scene 1
8:50 PM
Maeve sat back down after last refills of coffee and tea at the long table. Burt thanked Simon for dinner and rose to leave for home. Simon accompanied him to the door as Declan drained his mug.
“All set?” Grayson Lange stood and led the way to the library. Poppy had found a movie on the shelves for the evening’s entertainment that had generated great enthusiasm during dinner. “Good distraction for us, keep our minds occupied tonight.” Poppy and Fiona filed out to the library after him. Lydia and Rupert waited a beat, talked in low tones with Helen and then followed the others out.
Nora excused herself for the loo.
“She’s a great mum.” Maeve nodded toward Nora’s empty seat. “And not a bad actress.” She poured herself a hot cup of tea.
“Did you think she wouldn’t be?” Declan raised an eyebrow.
“I knew she’d rise to the occasion on all fronts.” Maeve slipped off her shoes. “My feet hurt tonight.”
Simon joined them. “With good reason. You’ve been brilliant, Maeve.” He poured his own tea. “Who would have thought
Rear Window
would hold such fascination for that crew?”
“One of Hitchcock’s masterpieces.” Declan stated this as if it brooked no question. “Jimmy Stewart stuck in a wheelchair and Grace Kelly never lovelier.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a Hitch fan, too?” Maeve shook her head. Simon laughed at her reaction.
“Isn’t everyone?” Declan’s retort was accompanied by a wry smile.
Maeve shuddered in exaggeration. “I think he was a dirty old man who had a thing for frosty blondes. No wonder you and Nora get on so well. She adores Hitchcock.”
Declan smiled and looked down at his cup.
“Memories bringing a blush to the detective’s face?” Maeve’s teasing brought another question to her mind. She lowered her voice. “Seems they’ve split into two factions: the Dentons with Helen and the two younger women with Grayson.”
“Yet they’re all sitting in that library together,” Declan pointed out.
Maeve considered this. “Better to keep an eye out for a killer if he’s right in front of you.”
“You’d make a good detective yourself, Miss Addams.” Declan laughed. “Nora must be rubbing off on you.”
“What am I doing?” They hadn’t noticed Nora’s return to the dining room.
Maeve explained. “Declan told me I’ve learned my detective skills from you.”
Nora sat down and touched the teapot to see if it was still warm, then poured herself a second cup. “I didn’t think you liked my snooping.”
“I don’t,” Declan agreed. “But I’m learning to give your instincts some respect, too.”
“That’s a change.” Simon rose. “Maeve, let’s start clearing. Nora, we’ll take care of this. You have lines to run.”
Maeve threw her napkin on the table and put her shoes back on. “It will be good when things get back to normal around here.”
Simon gathered their plates, then leaned over and kissed Nora on the cheek.
“What’s that for?” Nora’s puzzlement was genuine.
“For trying to salvage the play. I know part of the reason you’re doing this is for me.”
*
9:10 PM
Declan slipped out to the terrace and dialed Higgins’ mobile. “Sorry to bother you so late, Higgins. I need two things from you. Do you have a contact in Chiswick nick?”
He explained what he needed and why. “Yes, ones that specialize in body work on Jaguars. That should narrow it down. And I need the accident report from last
31
st October on Estelle Marsh.”
Declan clicked off. Good man, Higgins. First thing in the morning, he’d organize enquiries through the Metropolitan Police. The Met’s Hounslow borough had a station right on Chiswick High Road, and with any luck, Declan might have the information he sought by tomorrow night.
Now, he had to hope the killer wouldn’t make any moves tonight. He thought of how to be with Nora and still have one ear open for movement upstairs. An idea occurred to him that seemed perfect.
Declan watched the bevy of boats docked in Bowness Bay Marina sway with the water’s movement. The clang of sailboat halyards reached him with a change in the wind direction. To his right, north along the shore, a wildlife refuge housed the varieties of birds that frequented the lakeside. On his walks, he’d seen coots, cormorants and the migrating goldeneyes, but tonight they’d be bedded down in reed beds, and only a few squawking gulls moved through the night sky. They’d sleep better than he would.
He felt sluggish, tired from a lack of proper sleep and the building tension of the past week. This holiday had turned out vastly different from what he’d hoped when he’d packed in Oxford, especially when it came to Nora Tierney.
If he were a smoker, he’d be lighting up right now. No one could press his buttons like Nora, but he had to admit her instincts had been valuable. Not that he’d encourage her too much in her sleuthing.
He turned back to the lodge and Nora to hatch his plan and salvage just a bit of the reason he’d come to Ramsey Lodge. With Sean away, he could keep his ear tuned for a murderer, but he’d be sleeping in Miss Tierney’s bed tonight.
*
11:15 PM
Declan closed Nora’s copy of the play. “Almost perfect.” He threw her script on her desk. “Same as you.” He liked the simple nightdress she wore with her long hair hanging loose down her back. She’d acted out her moves in the bedroom as he’d stretched out on her bed in his robe and read out the other parts.
Nora smiled. “It helps that Elvira doesn’t have many long speeches.” She resisted the pull to enter Sean’s alcove and miss him even more. “Val called earlier when you were out on the patio. Sean fell asleep right around his normal bedtime.”
Declan rose and drew her into an embrace. “You sound disappointed.”
“Not really. I want him to adjust well and not give Val a hard time.”
“But you want him to miss you.” He rubbed her back. “And maybe give Val a teeny bit of a hard time?”
She yawned. “See, not perfect at all.”
“But plenty good for me.” He kissed her passionately. “With no early riser around, we can both catch up on our sleep tonight.”
He enjoyed seeing the mischievous gleam that came into Nora’s eye.
“And then some … I’ll light that scented candle you liked.”
“Hold that thought.” Declan grabbed the baby monitor from her desk and turned it on.
“What are you doing with that?”
“Bringing it upstairs to leave in my doorway on the floor. That way I’ll hear any midnight walkers.”
Nora nodded. “And Fiona is in the most danger right now, so that’s closest to her doorway.”
He kissed her again. “See, almost perfect.”
The movie had ended, the cast already upstairs, although Declan noted lights shone from under several doors as he went upstairs and entered his room. He grabbed clean clothes for the next day and looked around to see if he was forgetting anything. Closing the door, he propped the monitor against the doorframe in a shadow and made certain it was turned on.
He’d just started to creep downstairs when Poppy’s door opened. She stood in the doorway.
“I heard footsteps.” She held a toothbrush and looked pointedly at his armful of clothes.
“Sorry to disturb you.” He kept his tone even to avoid the sheepishness he felt. It was his business where he slept, and everyone at the lodge knew he and Nora were in a relationship. “Poppy, are you frightened?”
“Not really. I was just … checking.”
“Good idea. Good night.” He turned to start down again. Poppy closed her door and he heard the turn of the key.
As he passed Simon’s door, he heard a low chuckle from Maeve. His tiredness fell away, and he entered Nora’s room with all the enthusiasm that had brought him to the Lake District in the first place.
By candlelight, Nora’s nightgown looked almost sheer. She lay in bed in the flickering light, snoring gently.
Chapter Thirty-One
“It’s most awfully difficult to explain.”
Ruth: Act
II
, Scene 2
Saturday, 14th April
8:15 AM
Nora woke to the sounds of Declan showering. That sleep was the best she’d had in ages. She looked at the bedside clock.
8:15
! She hadn’t slept this late since before Sean’s birth.
She fell back into the cozy pillows. It was awful she’d fallen asleep on Declan last night, but she reasoned he could have woken her. Did he let her sleep out of annoyance or consideration?
Grayson had decided on one last walk-through of their lines, not in costume and without props, just to reinforce stage movements, entrances and exits. It would give them all an added sense of ease. He had originally said he wanted them to have the day off before opening night, so was this run-through down to her inexperience?
Nora shook off a wave of nerves. Today and tonight she needed all of her concentration to keep her eyes and ears open while still inhabiting the character of Elvira. That meant reducing her stress level today, and her thoughts turned to the Pembrokes and to the call hanging over her head before the lawyer’s visit on Monday.
What if Val’s thoughts were right? She’d based her whole knowledge of them on one grief-stricken meeting. She hadn’t taken into consideration that they must be reeling, lost in their sadness. And she hadn’t been able to explain that she’d wanted to meet them before that horrid day.
It had been Paul who’d ignored her questions about his parents, always using work for an excuse not to drive down to Cornwall. Dull, he’d called them, stuck in the past. Could they have been abusive toward him? Not likely. That kind of anger would have expressed itself. So what had Paul wanted to hide about his parents? Perhaps they kept chickens or sheep, and they embarrassed him. But then Paul had been secretive about his job, too. Maybe that had just been his nature.
Her own emotional scars had built up walls that Nora knew kept her, at times, from reaching for trust and openness. The courage to see the truth of a situation went beyond her individual point of view; she needed to develop the ability to see a situation the way others might, and that extended to the Pembrokes.
How easily her protective mask fell off when she was with Sean. Even when he fussed or didn’t sleep, she felt unequivocal, deep love. It was what she hoped to find in a partner, and yet by keeping her from his family, Paul had sown seeds of doubt that had kept Nora from completely trusting him. She wouldn’t entertain her worst fears about Sean’s custody. If it came to that, she’d borrow money from her mother and hire her own solicitor. But what if she was jumping the gun?
She heard Declan give a gentle whistle as he showered, a low tune she didn’t recognize. Not annoyance, then, but consideration. He’d probably been exhausted, too.
Before her courage failed her, Nora unplugged her mobile from its charger and pulled on her robe and slippers. She opened the French doors and shivered as she went out into the garden. The signal was strong here, and Nora took a deep breath and dialed the number she’d loaded into her phone months before. It was early, yes, but country people rose early.
“Hello, Mrs. Pembroke—Muriel? This is Nora Tierney. We need to talk.”
*
10:15 AM
Simon went over the potential menu for the weekend with Agnes and Maeve. “I’m so bloody tired of working out what to feed these people, knowing one is a murderer.” The generator repairman hadn’t been able to fix the current unit. A new part was on order and would be installed next week at great expense. Simon rubbed the back of his neck, where tension had given him a crick Maeve hadn’t been able to massage away.
“The delivery lorry came through in the afternoon, and the market should be in full force.” Agnes took the list from him. “This is fine.”
Maeve pushed him. “We’ve got this covered. Go and do something artsy.”
Simon moved into the main hall. The drawing room doors were closed, but he could hear the start of the play’s last run-through. He cracked them open and watched for a moment. True to her word, Nora was off book and moved easily on the set. He’d seen her acting abilities firsthand in Oxford. Burt Marsh ignored the actors and set up rows of folding chairs, while others waited for their cues.
It was a sunny day, and Simon closed the drawing room doors and propped open the front lodge door, then immediately wished he hadn’t. With dismay, he watched a broadcast van pull into the driveway and stop right in front, blocking the entrance. A reporter and a cameraman exited. Simon went down the walkway and stood his ground. He didn’t have to admit them to the lodge, but he knew anything he said would be captured on film for the evening news and posterity.
“I’m afraid you can’t leave that van there.” He kept his tone casual.
The reporter nodded to the driver. “Pull around and wait in the car park, Bob.”
Bob did as instructed while the light from the camera hit Simon’s eyes. Simon recognized the reporter from the crowd that had rushed Ramsey Lodge after Keith Clarendon’s body washed up on the shore across the road last autumn. He decided to keep his approach pleasant but firm.
“I’m sorry but the lodge is closed to the public for a play.” That settled it neatly. He turned to go back inside.
“Oi! You’re Simon Ramsey, the bloke suspected of murder last year. Another suspicious death, this time inside your lodge?”
Simon ground his teeth. Word of the death had leaked out, and soon newsmen would be crawling all over the place. “No comment.” He reached the doorway.
The reporter was relentless. “A veritable hotbed of murder, Ramsey Lodge, eh?”
Simon clenched his fists. “Please allow the victim her privacy.” The second the words escaped his lips, the reporter’s face lit up, and Simon knew he’d made a glaring error.
“So it’s a woman, Mr. Ramsey? Right in her bed here?” He thrust his microphone in Simon’s face.
“Sod off!” Simon slammed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. This was only the start, and he’d handled it poorly. What would Kate say when that sound bite hit the news?
*
12:30 PM
The drawing room doors slid open after a smattering of applause. Declan hovered in the hallway, watching the cast adjourn for lunch. At breakfast, Nora had apologized for falling asleep on
him and told him she had finally called the Pembrokes, but not the details, as Grayson had risen then to give a list of notes before the final rehearsal.
The cast chatted around Nora as they exited, exclaiming over her grasp of the part.
“Well done, Nora,” Rupert said, shaking her hand. Lydia beamed her agreement as they strolled past into the dining room with Burt.
“Let’s hope I do as well tonight.” Nora’s face flushed with excitement.
“Brilliant!” Grayson Lange kissed the top of Nora’s head as he filed past, and even Fiona flashed Nora a thumbs-up.
“Dear child, you embody the very essence of Elvira.” Helen, back in character, drew a silent Poppy with her. “Come along, Poppy.” Helen shepherded Poppy into the dining room.
Nora threw her arms around Declan for a hug. “Went better than I could have imagined. I’ve got Elvira down pat again.”
“More rehearsing this afternoon?” Declan took in the glow on Nora’s face.
“Nope. Rest and relax.” She arched an eyebrow. “I might need some distraction so I don’t get nervous.”
“I might be able of help with that.” He directed her back into the drawing room to the seats set up for the audience. “Only Poppy seemed unhappy. Jealous she wasn’t chosen, I expect.” Declan turned to face her and took her hand. “We didn’t get to talk much at breakfast in front of everyone. How did your call to the Pembrokes work out? I know it was a difficult decision, but I’m proud of you for choosing to tell them.”
He was rewarded with her grateful smile. “Better than expected, once I got past the initial frost.” Nora traced the veins on the back of his hand with a finger. “‘A piece of Paul,’ Muriel said; then she called for Harvey, and things got a bit emotional after that.”
“Does that bother you?”
“It’s who Sean is; I’m actually relieved they know. She seemed so different from the day we met, especially after I explained it was Paul who’d kept us away.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Once the thaw set in, she even apologized for her behavior at Paul’s memorial.”
“Which you gracefully accepted?”
“I told her I was sure no one was themselves that day. And then Harvey took the phone and said he had been quite horrified. ‘Very out of character for Muriel,’ he insisted. I did make it clear I wasn’t looking for any kind of financial support from them.”
“She was in shock, then.” Declan pulled Nora close to his side. “Maybe not her best showing.”
“Val pointed out the same thing. We’ll figure out a meeting soon, but she said it could wait until I’d seen the solicitor Monday. It made it easier to not have to explain why Sean’s not here.”
Declan kissed the top of her head, inhaling the lemony scent of her shampoo. “Maybe she didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“I suppose.” At least her worst fears could be put to rest. The Pembrokes were surprised to hear about Sean. The solicitor must just be bringing a release to sign on Paul’s estate.
He smoothed away the lines on Nora’s forehead with his finger. “I admit my interest is piqued by this visit Monday. Until then, we have a play to get through this weekend.” He didn’t mention the reports he was waiting on from Higgins, but Nora seemed to read his mind.
“And a murderer to catch.” He saw the gleam in her eyes and knew that despite opening-night jitters, Nora hadn’t forgotten her goal.