Page 21 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
The door suddenly opened from the other side, and my uncle almost walked into my fist. “Cleopatra, I was just on my way to find you. I want to talk to you.”
I froze. How did he know I was investigating? Had I not been discreet enough?
Floyd sidled closer to me. For all his teasing, he could be supportive when he wanted to be. I knew he’d always be there for me when I needed him most. But if I wanted my uncle to respect my decision to be a private detective, I had to stand on my own two feet.
Chapter5
Iput on a smile and brightly asked my uncle what he wanted to talk to me about. Perhaps a little charm would disarm him enough to soften that stern expression on his face.
“I want to discuss business with you,” he barked.
I released a pent-up breath. That was an unexpected answer. He must be referring to the current staffing problem.
It was a welcome topic for me, but not Floyd. He stiffened. He was keenly aware that his father sometimes listened to my opinions about the hotel more than his own. Although my connection to the staff probably made me a better choice to help resolve the fraternization issue, I didn’t want to step on my cousin’s toes.
“I’m sure Floyd has some good ideas for calming the situation down.” I tried to encourage Floyd to step in without saying anything, but he gave me a vacant look.
I sighed. It seemed he didn’t know anything about the dismissed maid.
Uncle Ronald moved aside and indicated I should enter his office. “It’s not hotel business. It’s detective business.”
Floyd looked sharply at his father. “Are you going to engage her to investigate the incident at Hambledon? Why?”
“Kershaw is an old friend. He doesn’t deserve to have his name dragged through the mud simply because the fellow was an employee and he died on the estate. But you know how cruel gossip can be. Until the murderer is found, a cloud will hang over Kershaw’s head. I know the local sergeant is placing the blame on a poacher, but rumors will continue to swirl. That’s where Cleopatra comes in. Find the murderer, ensure there’s enough evidence to convict him, and work with the authorities to see that he’s arrested.”
“Is that all?” Floyd said lightly. “Should be a doddle, Cleo. I’ll leave you to it.” He sauntered off down the corridor.
Uncle Ronald closed the door and sat in his chair behind the desk, while I sat opposite.
“Perhaps you could employ Harry Armitage,” I said. “I don’t know if you’ve read the newspapers lately, but he has solved a number of high-profile murders. He’s very good.”
Uncle Ronald gathered a stack of papers from his desk and shuffled them. “He’s too expensive.”
“I wasn’t aware his fees had gone up.”
“I don’t know what his fees are, but they’re more than yours. You’re free.” He returned the papers to the same position they’d occupied before he moved them. “Besides, I don’t want to encourage Armitage’s detective endeavors.”
“Why not?”
He waved off my question. Before I could ask again, he said, “I want you to investigatediscreetly, Cleopatra. I don’t want anyone thinking you’ve got mannish tendencies.”
“Mannish?”
“Investigating murders is hardly a feminine pastime.”
“It’s not a pastime, and perhaps it’s not seen as feminine because women are discouraged from doing it.”
He dismissed my protest with another casual wave, as if it were of no more concern to him than an irritating fly at a picnic. “Before you begin, there are some things you should know.”
I’d been prepared to continue my protests, but the prospect of learning something pertinent this early in the investigation had me leaning forward instead. “Any information you can provide about Esmond Shepherd will be welcome.”
“I don’t know much about him. He’s always been there, every time I’ve visited Hambledon Hall, which is almost every year since I can remember. I never liked him, even when we were children.”
“Why not?”
“He looked down on me, because he was always a better shot, a better rider, a better hunter, even though he was younger than me by a few years. Naturally, he was better at sports. His father was the bloody gamekeeper! He lived and breathed the outdoors since he was a baby. Damned fellow liked to rub my nose in it. Sorry for the language, but Shepherd riles me, even in death. At least he didn’t die on Kershaw’s driveway on purpose.”
Considerate of him. “I heard he was a bit of a bounder, breaking hearts without a care. Did you see evidence of that?”
