Page 15 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“Not yet.”
We’d recently had trouble with the mews staff striking when a motorized vehicle took up space in the coach house. No one wanted to endure that again. If the entire staff went on strike, it would be disastrous.
I’d not taken much notice of our direction, until we found ourselves in the staff parlor, tucked away behind the lift and stairs, with access from the service rooms at the rear of the hotel. It was late morning, a time when most of the maids were cleaning rooms, but the waiters had little to do. The cooks would be preparing for lunch in the kitchen, so I was surprised to see Victor there with Goliath, the hotel’s porter. Victor wasn’t dressed in chef’s whites however, so he mustn’t be on duty.
“I’m on the dinner shift,” he told me when I asked. “I organized with Harmony to meet in here when she returned. How was the three-day-long party? How many birds died for the gentlemen’s sport?”
Goliath frowned at him. “I didn’t know you were anti-shooting.”
“Only when it’s for the amusement of toffs. Sorry, Miss Fox, but I don’t think it’s necessary.”
I assured him he didn’t offend me. “I agree with you, although I should point out that everything that was shot was eaten by our party or given to the villagers. Everybird, that is.”
Only Victor noticed my clarification. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and opened his mouth to speak. Harmony’s arrival had him forgetting all about me, however. He rose and smiled at her. Victor rarely smiled, so it was rather lovely to see. It wasn’t lost on Harmony, either, who smiled sweetly back at him.
He offered her a chair. “Welcome home. Tea? Biscuit?”
“Yes, please, to both,” she said as she sat. “I came here directly and was stopped at least a half dozen times by someone wanting to tell me about Mrs. Short’s new rule. Can someone elaborate?”
Peter told her what he’d told me. Goliath grunted at several points, letting everyone know his thoughts. Harmony, however, kept hers to herself. She accepted the teacup from Victor, eyeing him the entire time from beneath her dark lashes.
I accepted a teacup, too. “I’m sure Uncle Ronald will overrule Mrs. Short. Perhaps your sweetheart will even be allowed to return to work, Goliath. Don’t worry yet.”
Goliath’s boulder-sized shoulders slumped as he crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s not talking to me anymore, and I really liked her.”
“I’m sure she’ll talk to you again if she really likes you, too,” I said gently.
Peter hadn’t sat, and he now headed for the door. He paused before opening it and pointed at Harmony and Victor. “You two need to be careful.”
Victor shook his head. “Some rules are meant to be broken. This is one of them.”
Harmony stayed quiet. While she wasn’t necessarily a stickler for rules to the point of following foolish ones, she didn’t like rocking boats. It was even more important for her to follow the rules now, with the promotion carrot dangling in front of her.
Victor noticed her silence. “Harmony? Is something wrong?”
“Hmmm? Ah, yes. In a way. The gamekeeper at Hambledon Hall was shot dead. Cleo saw the body and has begun an investigation.”
They all stared at me, open-mouthed. Peter returned and sat down. “Were you first on the scene, Miss Fox?”
“Second,” I said. “The vicar was first. He’d been walking toward the house along the drive when he heard the gunshot. I was emerging from the woods nearby.”
“Is he a suspect?”
“He has to be,” Victor said, matter of fact. “Being first on the scene places him in the vicinity. What type of gun did the killer use?”
“A rifle,” I said. “It hasn’t been found, but there is one missing from the armory. And yes, Reverend Pritchard is a suspect.”
Goliath looked at each of us in turn, a frown of incredulity scoring his forehead. “But he’s a man of the cloth! Vicars don’t kill people. They save their souls.”
Victor rolled his eyes. “And fairies exist, as do unicorns and pots of gold at the end of rainbows.”
Goliath gave him a withering glare. “If Frank were here, he’d agree with me. We might not agree on much, but he’s a churchgoer, like myself.”
“I hope the vicar isn’t guilty,” I reassured him before they started an ecclesiastical argument. “But he must be considered, until he’s ruled out altogether.”
I told them how Reverend Pritchard had avoided giving proper answers to my questions about his former parish, then moved on to describe the other suspects. The butler was the only member of staff on the list. Everyone else who couldn’t be accounted for at the time of the murder were members of Lord Kershaw’s family.
“Of course, the shot could have come fromoutsidethe house,” I said. “The police believe a poacher did it. A poacher who has since disappeared.”
