That seemed like a stretch. “You didn’t trust your cleaners?” And yet she left them alone in her home every week.

  “I’d have said they were completely honest. They’ve worked for me for three years. But does one ever know the people one employs?” Did she know how utterly snobby and entitled she sounded? No doubt Oxford CID would check out the cleaners, in any case.

  As we were walking, I got a funny feeling in the back of my neck—a tingling. If I hadn’t been thinking about murder and danger, I might have disregarded the sensation, but my senses were definitely on high alert. I scanned the immediate vicinity and saw nothing more alarming than a goose that was glaring at us as though we were invading his space.

  I turned and glanced behind me and saw a chubby gentleman in a tweed blazer and a wide-brimmed hat. A pair of binoculars hung from his neck, and he carried a bag of wild birdseed. Just an Oxford stroller with nothing but birdwatching on his mind.

  Theodore.

  Chapter 22

  Theodore looked back at me blandly as though he had no idea who I was and was only on this path to do a spot of birdwatching.

  I couldn’t tell him off or send back a very rude message to Rafe. I had to turn around and pretend we weren’t being followed.

  “Is there anyone else who would have wanted to hurt Felicity that you can—”

  She put up a hand to stop me. Her mobile was going off. She answered it, cool and crisp, for all the world as though she were sitting at her desk.

  I only heard her half of the conversation, obviously, but she said, “I can’t talk now. Bring the documents to the office. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  She clicked off and said, “Sorry about that.” And then in a rush, “I really can’t be away from work this long. I’m going to have to go back.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “On the day your friend was murdered? Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  “Well, it’s a dreadful thing, obviously. But I can’t bring her back. And this is a very big deal. It must be done quickly.” She glanced behind us, but Theodore had the binoculars to his eyes and seemed engrossed in avian fascination. “If anyone got wind of this deal, the whole thing could blow up. These things require absolute finesse and complete discretion.”

  I turned to stare at her. Did she not remember that she’d already told us all about the deal? I decided to test a theory. “Is that the Hurst and Havers deal?” I asked airily, as though it was something I’d read in the Oxford paper.

  She stopped walking. She actually stopped dead, and I took two steps before I’d realized. Her eyes were wide, and she looked deathly pale. “How did you hear that?”

  “You told me. Don’t you remember?”

  She gripped my wrist so hard it hurt. “I would never tell you any such thing. It would be completely inappropriate. I could lose my job.”

  “Honestly. That is how I found out. You’d had a few drinks, and you told us last night. Don’t you remember?”

  She closed her eyes for a minute and then opened them. “No. I don’t.”

  I didn’t want to suggest she possibly had a problem with alcohol, not when she could party till after midnight and be at work at six-thirty the next morning, but if she was having memory lapses, that couldn’t be good.

  “I must ask you to promise me not to breathe a word of this. Not to a soul.”

  “I wouldn’t. That’s not my world. I deal in cashmeres and silks and cottons. Your world is a million miles away.”

  “Nevertheless, it was most indiscreet.” She put a hand to her head. “It’s the stress, you see.”

  It had looked to me like it was the booze. Though I could understand that a really high-pressure job might encourage her to drink too much.

  A cold chill went over my skin as I wondered whether Rafe was right. Maybe Felicity had tried to blackmail her best friend over the Hurst and Havers deal. Maybe she’d appreciated how sensitive the information was that Jemima was blabbing in the bar. Had she tried to get money out of her friend in order to keep her mouth shut? And had that friend decided to silence her permanently?

  Now I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. She knew that I knew all about her secret deal, just like Felicity had known. I was suddenly glad that Theodore was only a few paces behind us. He’d be on me in a second if I made so much as a squeak.

  But Jemima didn’t seem like she was going to get violent with me. She looked like she wanted to smack herself.

  She quickened her pace. “Look, sorry, but I’ve got to get back to work. I’ve called Dick to pick me up at the entrance to the park. Can you make your own way back?”

  “Okay. Sure.” So much for our bonding and mutual grieving time. I’d been dumped for a business deal.

  She sped up the pace so we got a nice, healthy workout as we speed-walked our way back towards Parks Street.

  As though it had appeared by magic, the familiar black Mercedes eased around, and before she got in, she grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip one more time. “You promised me, Lucy. Remember that. You do not breathe a word of that deal to anyone.”

  “I won’t tell a living soul,” I promised her. Neatly leaving out the possibility of sharing with the undead. “Anything you or Felicity said to me is in the vault.” Then I had to modify that statement. “Except anything about Felicity that might help the police. But I’ve already been interviewed by them. I doubt they’ll be asking me any more questions.”

  She’d obviously lost interest after she got my promise. She already had the door open, having waved Dick back when he tried to get out of his door.

  I stood there and watched as the car fit smoothly back into traffic, and then she was gone. I didn’t have long to wait before Theodore arrived at my side.

  “You’re birdwatching now?”

  “Very relaxing hobby,” he said placidly, as though it really could be a coincidence he was here. “I was watching a flock of waxwings eating the rowan berries. Lovely birds. From Scandinavia, you know.”

  It was impossible to stay mad at Theodore. Anyway, it wasn’t his fault he’d been tasked with following me. Besides, if Jemima had turned out to be a psycho killer, I’d have been happy to have his help. As it was, she had a deal to put to bed. After that was done, might a psycho killer emerge? Did I have to watch my back?

  I told Theodore what she had said and, holding to my promise, said there were details of the deal I couldn’t share. “Do you think Felicity tried to squeeze money out of her and provoked Jemima into a murderous rage?”

  “Possible, I suppose,” Theodore said. “What else did you discover? Anything more about our victim?”

  I told him about the gallery and the two different stories that had emerged about Felicity’s former employer. One that she herself had told and the different variation that Jemima suspected was closer to the truth.

  “Peter Bedworth, you say,” Theodore said. “I know the gallery. Very exclusive. Need an appointment to get in.”

  “And are you thinking of making such an appointment?”

  “Exactly. I’ll see you back at Crosyer Manor, Lucy.”

  “Are you going there now?”

  He looked at me as though I’d been in a hot sun too long. “In these clothes? I must go home, get properly attired and see if Sylvia will lend me the Bentley.”

  Nyx and I arrived back at Crosyer Manor in plenty of time for dinner. In spite of a pretty harrowing day, and one that had started out with a hangover to boot, one of William’s fabulous meals would go a long way to helping improve my mood.

  I suspected preparing the meal would be good therapy for William, too. And, since I had missed the tea and scone that I’d been looking forward to at Elderflower Tea shop, I was definitely ready to eat.

  When I got out of my car, Henri waddled forward in search of treats. I let Nyx out, and the two stared at each other. An interesting standoff. One pure black and sleek and wiry, coiled with energy, the other pudgy and as colorful as a jeweler’s window. Then Nyx hissed, and Henri, not to be outdone, let out the raucous squawk so at odds with the beautiful plumage of a peacock. He didn’t even stay for his treat. He turned and waddled off.

  Satisfied that she had rid her space of yet more vermin, Nyx padded daintily to the front door of the manor house. It was opened by Olivia.

  “Dinner’s going to be late, I’m afraid,” she said, looking worried.

  “Why? What’s going on?” I tried to quell the hollowness in the pit of my stomach and to concentrate on her words.

  “It’s William. He hadn’t noticed, but there was a message on his mobile phone from Felicity. She must have left it last night. It was rather drunk and rambling, but she all but proposed to him. He’s very upset.”

  I swallowed hard. Poor William. What an awful thing to get a message from someone right before she was murdered. “What did it say? Were there any clues?”

  “I don’t know. He called the police right away, of course. They’ve been with him all afternoon. But he feels terrible. He believes that if he’d picked up the phone, she’d still be alive. Maybe she was trying to tell him something or there was someone with her who perhaps wouldn’t have committed that terrible crime if they’d known William was listening in.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of ifs. And a lot of responsibility that William’s putting on himself.”

  She nearly sagged with relief. “Thank goodness. You sound like Rafe. I think he needs to hear that same message from another person. He’s my older brother, so he won’t listen to me. And William was born responsible. He was trained to take on the huge task of running Crosyer Manor and keeping Rafe safe. He’s got an overdeveloped sense of duty, and with it, I’m afraid, comes self-blame.”

  Honestly, if Felicity Stevens hadn’t been dead, I’d have been tempted to give her a piece of my mind. What had she been doing messing up a nice guy like William? He deserved a nice woman who cared about him and would take an interest in Rafe and Olivia and this estate. It was a tall order for any woman, but as Felicity had made plain to me, she’d never intended to be a real partner. I was pretty sure she’d seen William as a never-empty cash machine.

  I handed Olivia my coat and headed inside. “You’ll find him in the kitchen,” she said. As though she had to tell me that. I might not have lived with William his whole life, but I knew where he felt safe.

  It had been jarring to see Rafe in the kitchen with his staff this morning, but now it seemed normal to find him here. He glanced up at me and looked relieved. “Lucy. You’re home.” He came forward and kissed me, then whispered, “Do what you can with him. I’ve failed miserably.”

  William’s stunned expression hadn’t dissipated. If anything, he looked worse. His eyes looked hollow, and his complexion was gray.

  The phone sat in front of him, and he stared it as though Felicity might call again.

  I appreciated Rafe’s confidence in me, but really, what could I do?

  I went and sat beside William and put my hand over his. “I heard. I’m so sorry.”

  Naturally, I was dying to hear what was on that recording, but I wanted to be delicate.

  Luckily, Rafe wasn’t at all worried about being delicate. He said, “Play that message for Lucy.”

  Chapter 23

  Rafe could have ordered William to do anything. Take off all his clothes and run around the house naked, cook mashed potatoes out of a box, and William would have done it. He was that stunned. He obediently pushed play, and I had the unpleasant experience of hearing a dead woman’s voice. Make that a drunk, dead woman’s voice.

  “William,” she said. Even “William” was slurred. It reminded me of Violet trying to talk when she’d lost the tooth, and for a second I wondered if that indignity had been added to the other ones piled on poor Felicity as the hex began to take hold. She continued, her speech slurred but comprehensible. “Need to see you. I’m in love with you. Tomorrow seems so far away. I think about you all the time. Something important to tell you.” Then some muttering or coughing before her voice grew clear once more. “I know you’re a bit shy and probably want to take things slow, but I don’t. Want to marry you.” And then there was the sound of something dropping and her swearing, and then, “Call me.”

  And that was it. The words had been slurred and stumbling but clear enough for all that.

  “She said she had something to tell me,” he said, looking at me as though I might know what it was. “What if it was the thing that got her killed? If only I’d answered my phone.”

  “William. It must have been nearly one in the morning by the time she called you.”

  “It was one-twelve, to be precise,” Rafe put in.

  I nodded thanks. “After one in the morning. No one could be expected to answer their mobile at that time. And anybody who wasn’t, well, pretty drunk would have realized that. Everybody puts their phone on do not disturb at night. And you have to get up early. You have a job.”

  “I’m not turning my phone off at night anymore. From now on, if anybody needs to get hold of me in the middle of the night, I shall be there. What kind of a friend did I turn out to be?”

  I said, “Did it occur to you that the thing she wanted to say was the thing she then said? I think I’m in love with you and I want to marry you? Which, by the way, I do not believe.”

  He looked like I’d smacked him a couple of times. “I didn’t give her a proper chance. I was going to end things, and she wanted to marry me. I feel dreadful. I could have been kinder.”

  “You were more than kind. I’m not saying this to upset you, but hopefully it will make you feel a bit better. She really wanted to marry a wealthy man. I’m not saying she wouldn’t rather have you than some old, wrinkled guy with no teeth, but she wasn’t falling in love with your pretty blue eyes.”

  He looked relieved for a second and then shook his head. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

  William already had so much modesty, such a relatively low opinion of himself, that I didn’t know how to say, “No, dude, she seriously only wanted your money” without crushing him. I was doing the best I could here.

  This time, it was Olivia who helped me out. “Are you saying that woman was nothing but a gold digger?”

  Oh, yes. Nailed it. I nodded, talking to Olivia now, but of course my words were intended for William. “She talked about money and wealth a lot. She definitely wanted to marry up, as they say.”

  “But I’m not ‘up,’” William argued. “I’m a butler.”

  “Estate manager,” Rafe corrected.

  Again, I felt bad repeating what Felicity had said, but if sharing girl talk would help dispel the gray sadness in William’s eyes, I’d spill. “Felicity told me she wanted you to give up working for Rafe.”

  “What?” two male voices said in unison.

  “I know. She scoffed, called you a servant and said Rafe had better start looking for a new butler.”

  Now William started to get some color back in his cheeks. The ruddy look of anger. “I’d never leave my position. I’m certain I made that clear to Felicity.”

  “That’s why she was so eager to have drinks with me last night. She was trying to find out whether you’d ever leave Rafe.” I glanced from man to master. “I told her you wouldn’t.”

  “Quite right. Naturally, I could never tell a woman about the peculiar nature of my work.” He leaned back and looked wretched. “Which makes it incredibly difficult to get serious about dating.”

  Olivia looked angry, obviously on her brother’s behalf. “I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but I didn’t like Felicity Stevens. And I didn’t think she was right for you, William,” she said, gripping her brother’s shoulder.

  “I agree,” Rafe said.

  “Make that three of us,” I added.

  William shifted his gaze from the ceiling to look at all of us in turn. “I’m well aware she wasn’t right for me. Any fool could see that. But I should have been kinder.”

  He was too nice for his own good.

  “What did the police say?” I asked him.

  “Just a lot of searching questions about our relationship. Since she was talking about marriage on that message, they seemed to think I was lying when I said it was casual. We kept going over the same ground again and again.”

  Suddenly he seemed to gather himself together and glanced up at the big clock. “Oh. The chicken will be dry. I’m sorry. I’d nearly forgotten.”

  “No. It doesn’t matter.” He’d had an emotional day. “We could get takeout.”

  Everyone laughed, even William. “They don’t exactly deliver pizza way out here,” Rafe informed me.

  “Right.”

  William said, “Look, you two go and sit in the lounge and have a drink. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

  I didn’t care if Rafe was his employer and he was the servant. I said, “I’m only eating in the dining room if you’re joining us.” I didn’t think he should be sitting here alone brooding. At least if he joined us at the dinner table, I could make sure he actually ate something.

  I could see he was about to refuse when Rafe said, “I agree. In fact, I insist you both join us for dinner. You know what they say about murders. If they’re not solved within twenty-four hours, the chances of apprehending the culprit go down exponentially. You knew Felicity Stevens better than anyone except, perhaps, Lucy, so you may have noticed things that didn’t seem important but could help solve her murder.”

  It was after six now. We knew that Felicity had been killed sometime between one-twelve in the morning when she’d called William and whenever the cleaners found her. Drat, I should have asked Jemima what time that was. I’d been assuming she was killed in the middle of the night. But perhaps she’d been killed in the morning. Maybe Jemima was right and the cleaners had done it.

  I went to sit in the living room. Nyx was way ahead of me, already curled up on one of the priceless couches that she had now turned into a very elegant cat bed. Rafe offered me wine or anything I wanted out of his bountiful liquor cabinet, but I shook my head. I wanted to keep a clear head tonight.

 

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