Page 56 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
Ethan’s arm snaked around her and plucked the plate of ham from the table and handed it to the attorney, who took three pieces and handed the rest to Ethan.
“I miss American bacon,” Freddy said longingly. Then he brightened. “You didn’t happen to bring any, did you?”
“No. I left my travel bacon at home.” Ethan looked at Maggie. “What about you?”
“Same,” she said.
“Pity that.” Freddy sounded remorseful. “Best thing about America. The bacon.”
Ethan gave Maggie a look, then whispered, “He’s not wrong.”
“I miss bacon. Almost makes up for the shellfish thing. I can’t have shellfish. Allergic, you see. But I get a lot of the good stuff.” He crammed his mouth full but kept talking. “Like bacon.”
“Of course.” Ethan couldn’t have sounded more serious.
“And dairy. Love good dairy. A nice, buttery Brie. A good cheddar. People turn their noses up at Stilton, but I always say—”
“Was Eleanor changing her will or wasn’t she?” Maggie blurted and Freddy started to choke, nervous. He couldn’t meet her gaze.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“She’s missing,” she reminded him. “She might be dead.”
“Look,” he said, forceful now. Thenhe glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure they were alone as he lowered his voice. “I’ve only been at the firm a few months. I’m just—”
“Baby Banes,” Ethan filled in.
“Exactly. They don’t take me seriously for some reason,” said the man who had strawberry jam on his chin. “I went to Eaton. I studied at Oxford. I did a year at Georgetown Law; did you know that? But they don’t care.” Then something behind Maggie caught his eye. “Say, are those scones still warm?”
She passed him the whole basket.
“Excellent!” He took a big bite. “All I know is my father came into my office two mornings ago and said I had two hours to pack a bag and get on a train and go keep Eleanor happy, so I got on the train and now she’s not happy—she’s gone! Father didn’t saydon’t lose her, but I’ve lost her just the same, now haven’t I?”
Then he looked down at the plate as if remembering that he should have lost his appetite as well.
“And yesterday.” Ethan reached for the scones and slid one to Maggie before taking the last for himself. “Where were you when the shooting started?”
Freddy shook his head, confused. “I don’t understand. I was looking for Ms. Ashley. Wait. Wasn’t I supposed to be looking for Ms. Ashley?”
James came into the room with a fresh basket of scones and the lawyer looked up from his plate. “Say, what time is luncheon?”
Dr. Charles sat on the library sofa, looking to all the world like a man who just wanted to go home and take a very, very, very long nap. Perhaps not in that order.
“How is Sir Jasper this morning?” Maggie asked and the man glanced toward the window. The sun was almost too bright as it reflected off all that icy stillness, but there were dark clouds on the horizon—like the storm wasn’t really over yet.
“Fine. I think.” He gave a shrug.
“Youthink?” Maggie asked.
“We’re in the middle of the bloody wilderness,”Dr. Charles snapped. “This isn’t a hospital. This isn’t what I do.”
Maggie and Ethan shared a glance. “What do you do?” Ethan asked.
“I’m a psychiatrist!”
“Oh,” Maggie muttered.
“Exactly.” The doctor gave a decisive nod. “True, I went to medical school and I practice at a hospital, but if you’re having a heart attack on an airplane, I’m not the bloke you want to come running, now am I?” There was a decanter of whiskey on one of the shelves, and he eyed it like a drowning man eyes land.
