Page 102 of Blackmail at Beckwith Place
It took a second to battle back the instinct to pull the door open again and start ranting at him. Instead, once I had, I leaned in and put my ear to the crack.
“There you are,” Tom’s voice said, sounding smug. “I thought she’d get you to follow her.”
“Yes, thanks a lot, Gardiner.” Crispin’s voice was as annoyed as I felt. “Very funny. What can I do for you?”
“We need a very small favor,” Tom said. His voice was fading, I assume as Crispin walked closer to him and he didn’t have to speak so loudly. “If you could go next door?—”
And that was all I heard. I made a face, but kept my ear to the door for another few seconds, until I heard footsteps approaching on the opposite side. By the time Crispin came back out, I was standing on the other side of the hallway looking innocent.
Or perhaps not. He looked me up and down, and snorted.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing, I’m sure.”
He turned down the hall towards the back of the house.
I trotted after him. “Where are we going?”
“I’mgoing to the library. I don’t know where you’re going.”
I was going wherever he was going, but I couldn’t say that without opening myself up to some sort of sarcastic remark. So instead I said, “Where’s Christopher? He wasn’t in the sitting room when I fetched you, was he?”
“He didn’t come back after going to tell you that Sammy wanted to talk to you.” He pushed open the door to the library, and walked in.
I followed, looking around. The room was deserted, but the blankets from last night were still on the sofa, thrown off and forgotten when we’d burst in to tell Constance and Francis about Abigail’s death. I headed toward them and began folding.
“I have an idea where he might be, though,” Crispin added. “I’ll help you look for him once I’ve made this telephone call.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go back to Laetitia?”
He gave me a look but didn’t respond, just picked up the ear piece of the telephone. I put one folded blanket down on the sofa and picked up the other and shook it.
“Do you need me to leave?” I’d listen at the door if he did, of course, but it seemed polite to inquire.
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just a call to the village to ask Wilkins to come back up.”
“Sammy talked to Wilkins this morning,” I said, while I watched Crispin deal with the exchange.
“And now I suppose Gardiner wants to talk to him.” He turned his attention to the receiver, with a noticeable increase in charm. “Hello? Is this the Beckwith Arms? This is Crispin Astley, calling from Beckwith Place…”
There was some noise from the other end, and then a smile from Crispin. It warmed his voice when he said, “Yes, that’s correct. My father and I are visiting from Sutherland…” He chuckled. “Is that so? Yes, of course I do…”
I rolled my eyes and put the second blanket down. Some woman at the pub remembered him from some other time he’d been here, and wanted to know if he remembered her, no doubt.
He caught it, and smirked at me, but without losing the thread of the conversation. “Yes, for Francis’s birthday next week. That’s right… Yes, with all the visitors we have a full house at Beckwith this weekend. Our chauffeur is lodging with you, which is why… Yes, that would be simply spiffing, if you would be so kind.”
There was a pause and then all the charm dropped off and his voice turned businesslike. “Wilkins. Thank God. It’s St George.”
There was a faint quacking on the other end of the line.
“Not that I know of, Wilkins. Would you mind bringing the motorcar in this direction? Along with a bottle of the most expensive gin the Arms can provide? I can’t stomach my uncle’s sorry excuse for a gin and tonic anymore…”
The phone quacked again, and then Crispin answered, “Yes, thank you, Wilkins… Yes, we’ll be here. Nobody’s going anywhere, it seems… No, I don’t believe they’re any closer to figuring anything out. Why would they? Village idiots, the lot of them…”
He leaned a shoulder against the wall and examined his nails. “Yes, Wilkins, I’ll be here. I’ll meet you outside the carriage house. And Wilkins… don’t let my father know, eh?”
The quacking continued for a moment and then went silent. Crispin hung up the receiver and arched a brow at me.
