03 - Murder in Mink (2 page)

Laura Pettibone had a little too much money and not quite
enough common sense. She arrived at dinner dressed in a sequined slip of a
dress that dripped down in folds across her unnaturally flat chest. Her pretty
blond hair was bobbed with a kiss-curl teased out onto her forehead. She spun
to show off her dress at Hogarth’s request, making the old man roar with
laughter and comment on what the world was coming to. Bubbly Susan greeted
Laura like a long-lost sister. She could not hope to emulate her sparkle, she
was far too homely, but she had done her best in green velvet and pearls.

Laura giggled and shook hands with everyone, until she
reached her fiancé, who greeted her with a delicate kiss on the cheek. It was
also the first time in the entire evening he had bothered to smile.

Clara observed Laura at a safe distance – her dazzle was
slightly over-whelming – and wondered what had attracted this unlikely pair to
each other. Andrew had to be a decade older than his bride and, at least from
Clara’s perspective, as well matched to Laura as a mouse to a cat. But when
Laura appeared something within him changed. His shoulders relaxed, his manner
loosened, he became almost human.

“What do you make of her?” Peg appeared with Tommy in
tow, she had not left his side all evening, as if Tommy was some defence at the
uncontained femininity all around them; even Glorianna had donned mascara.

“She wasn’t what I expected.” Clara admitted.

“All sparkle, no substance.” Peg said bluntly.

“Does that matter?” Tommy grinned at them.

Peg shared a look with Clara.

“Typical male.”

“I know.”

“Wait until the first crisis and then where will all that
glitter get you?” Peg shook her head, “I despair at the female race sometimes.”

“There is room enough in this world for the sparklers and
us dullards Peg.” Clara smiled.

“You wait until you’ve talked with her for a bit!” Peg
went to make herself another cocktail.

“You have a new friend.” Clara smirked at Tommy as soon
as the coast was clear.

“Peg’s a good sort of chap to have around. You know she
has a racing car?”

“Really?”

“Yes, up at Brooklands racing track. Andrew has one too.
By the way, she won’t admit it but she is woefully jealous of all this wedding
lark.”

That surprised Clara.

“I didn’t think that would matter to her?”

“Apparently it does. Peg’s rather a complicated thing
altogether and anyway, beyond appearances, she is still a woman.”

They were ushered in to dinner by the same butler who had
greeted them on arrival. The early cocktails had gone to Clara’s head and she
felt a little queer as she took her place beside Andrew, almost dead opposite
his bride-to-be.

“I’m so glad you could come to the wedding Clara.” Laura
gushed before they were barely seated, “When we first began planning the
wedding I half-thought we would have no guests. Daddy does not have many
relatives who are alive or anything less than positively ancient and he doesn’t
have any friends. I’m relying on Andrew to fill up the church with guests.”

“Who is your father?” Clara asked politely, relieved to
see the soup was a light one served in small bowls. She was remembering why she
rarely drank alcohol.

“Daddy owns the new rubber factory, well, he did other
stuff before. But he has been in rubber since 1918. He makes tyres, that’s how
I got to know Andrew. Daddy shows off his tyres at Brooklands.”

“And your mother?” Clara risked a small sip of soup.

“Ran off with a travelling salesman when I was a child,
or so daddy says. She never writes.”

The bluntness of the comment caused Clara a moment of
hesitation. Laura seemed completely unperturbed by the effect of her honesty.
She didn’t even seem to realise how unusual it was to speak so openly.

“Daddy spoils me rotten because she left. He is really
going to miss me when I leave with Andrew. I’ve promised him we will visit
often, or I just don’t think he would cope.”

Through this announcement Andrew had been mute, working
steadily through his soup. Now he glanced up.

“He’ll be perfectly all right Laura, he has the factory
to keep him busy.”

“But we will visit?”

“Occasionally. Christmas and such.”

Laura seemed to deflate slightly. For a while she toyed
with her soup and conversation evaporated so Clara could over-hear what was
going on down the far end of the table.

“Penelope, dearest, you will wear a dress on Saturday and
a pretty hat.” Glorianna was saying.

“Bloody nonsense! What’s a wedding got to do with me
wearing a dress? I’m not the bride!”

“Watch your language, young lady.” That was Hogarth
rumbling up from his soup, “You’ll do as your mother says.”

“Please do not refer to Glory as my mother.” Peg sounded
exasperated rather than angry.

“She is as good as. Besides, Saturday is about your
brother, not you.”

The angry conversation died down just as Laura seemed to
revive herself.

“Peg said you are a female detective Clara, is that
true?”

“I am, yes.” Clara put down her spoon, her soup virtually
untouched.

“Investigating crimes? Like in the American novels?”

“Sometimes. Also I trace missing cats, long-lost
relatives and unravel all manner of other mundane problems. Last week a lady
hired me to trace a knitting pattern she wanted.”

“Sounds rather dull.” Andrew butted in and Clara sensed a
sneer in his tone.

“Only bits of it. I like helping people and some of us
don’t have rich fathers.” As she said it Clara could have kicked herself. She
bit her tongue in remorse. Her temper so often was her undoing, especially when
people insulted her work.

“I’m sure it really is interesting.” Laura moved in as
peace-maker, “Have you ever had to find a murderer?”

“Yes. Twice.”

“See? Now that is exciting!”

There was a sudden hammering at the door. All the guests
looked up. The sound had apparently come from the entrance hall and within a
moment they could hear the front door being opened and someone entering.

“Is that…” Glorianna went pale, “I thought he agreed not
to come until after dinner.”

“You know what Eustace is like with timings. Anyway, he
had to turn up eventually.” Hogarth placated.

Clara cast a curious eye about the table, hoping someone
would offer to explain the sudden tension that had fallen over them all. Her
eyes briefly met Peg’s, but if there had been any thought of speaking it was
crushed when the dining room doors burst open and a giant of a man stalked in.

Uncle Eustace was close to seven foot in height and
favoured Hogarth’s dimensions, though not on the same scale. He was also
hot-tempered and prone to drinking too much. That was the best Clara could
remember from rare comments she had picked up at home. He eyed the room with
the look of an enraged madman.

“Started without me?”

“Eustace! What a surprise!” Glorianna rose from her seat
and fluttered a hand at Hogarth to grab another chair, “I wasn’t expecting you
until 9 o’clock.”

“I know you weren’t. That’s why I came early. I knew you
would eat without me. What is it Glorianna? Ashamed of me? Don’t want me
sitting in at your nice dinner and perhaps saying something embarrassing.”

Glorianna was flushing vivid red, she fanned herself
awkwardly with one hand and gave a tight smile to the collected guests.

“Nonsense Eustace, I was thinking of the train
timetables, that’s all.”

“You never could lie Glorianna.” Eustace lumbered into
the room, as he passed Clara she caught the distinct whiff of beer, “I don’t
really care, you know. I’m used to it. Father was always embarrassed by me
too.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t turn up smelling like a brewery.”
Hogarth grumbled, herding his brother to a chair he had hastily placed between
himself and his wife.

“I had a quick drink before catching the train.” Eustace
fell into the chair with an ominous creak of wood, “I hate waiting around, so a
beer or two passes the time.”

“Or five.” Andrew grimaced at his uncle.

“Andrew! Hogarth!” Glorianna cast a stern glance at her
menfolk, “Eustace is a guest and we will have none of that talk.”

“Good old Glory, always trying to keep things peaceable.
They should have sent you over to France in the war, saved us some lads if you
could have calmed down the damn huns.” Eustace gave a belly-laugh that failed
to be taken up by the table.

“Soup, Eustace?” Glorianna was motioning to servants for
extra cutlery.

“If you don’t mind I’ll skip to the real food.” Eustace
gave the guests a theatrical wink, before his eye fell on Peg, “Who’s that
fellow? Never seen him before.”

“That is Penelope.” Hogarth said with barely concealed
exasperation.

“Thought Penelope was a girl’s name?”

“It
is
.”

Clara caught Tommy’s eye. He was semi-amused by the
performance of uncle Eustace, but it was apparent the family were not.

“Now where’s the bride-to-be?” Eustace’s eye roved up the
table, briefly pausing on Clara, until Laura announced herself.

“I’m the bride!” She giggled, offering out a hand which
Eustace struggled to reach over the table, “Nice to meet you uncle Eustace. I’m
Laura.”

“Well, you are a pip, aren’t you?” Eustace’s eyes had
grown round, “How on earth did you catch her Andrew?”

Glorianna was trying to distract everyone with the arrival
of the main course, but Eustace had honed in on Laura.

“Quite remarkable. What do you want to go marrying old
grizzle-guts for? You should have someone lively and fun.”

“Oh, but Andrew is fun!”

Eustace burst into another of his giant-size laughs.

“Well how do you like that?”

“Eustace, refrain yourself from insulting my children!”
Hogarth snapped.

“But look at her, man! She’s one of them flappers, all
laughter and knees. She isn’t the type for Andrew!”

“I think I can determine my ‘type’ for myself, thank
you.” Andrew responded haughtily, making himself appear every bit the stern
bore his uncle was accusing him of being.

“If you say so Andrew. I’m not here to cause a stir.”
Eustace accepted a plate of duck and orange sauce, and for a moment peace descended
on the troubled table.

Clara picked at her duck. The effects of the cocktail
were wearing off with the addition of food, but her mind was too distracted to
have sufficient time to restore her appetite. Eustace nothing like his brother
Hogarth; he was boorish, blunt, and rude. His brother played the amiable,
considerate host, while Eustace seemed determined to upset everyone around him.
Clara had no knowledge if he had always been this way or whether family
tensions had made him into this man of insults. Knowing what large families
were like, there was usually always something brewing just beneath the surface.
Was Eustace the black sheep because he couldn’t hold his tongue, or had
resentment made him that way?

She snuck a look down the table. Eustace was absorbed in
sopping up sauce with potatoes. Glorianna looked disgusted by the performance
and was merely toying with her food. Hogarth was making a determined effort to
ignore his brother.

Clara returned to her duck and Laura caught her
attention.

“Is he always like this?”

Clara gave a shrug. Andrew had overheard.

“Always.” He sneered, “That’s why, even though Eustace is
the oldest, father inherited the estate from grandfather. Eustace fritters his
money away in London.”

Laura’s eyes widened and she looked on Eustace with a new
understanding, but it was not necessarily a look of revulsion. Clara thought
she seemed rather fascinated with him. It occurred to Clara that she too
wondered what Laura could see in her future husband, though she would never
voice such thoughts aloud like Eustace.

Dinner ended with a selection of ices and coffee. Almost
as soon as he could Andrew deserted the gathering, claiming he was going to
smoke on the terrace. Laura watched him leave with a strangely fretful look.
Glorianna suggested the ladies retire to the drawing room. Peg started to
protest but a look from her stepmother silenced her. Tonight was not the time
for petty quarrels. Clara retreated with Laura, managing to catch Tommy’s
disgruntled look as he was left virtually alone with the over-weight and now
heavily sweating Eustace.

“What’s up with you then?” She heard Eustace bellowing at
Tommy as the ladies hastened to the drawing room.

Once inside Glorianna took a cigarette from a box on the
mantel and lit it with impatience.

“Make us cocktails Peg, something strong.” She pleaded.

“Not for me.” Clara quickly added, “I can only take my
cocktails in small doses.”

“By the Dickens, that was awful.” Glorianna paced before
the fireplace, puffing on the cigarette with unconscious obsession, “What
possessed him to come early?”

“He wanted to cause trouble.” Peg walked over with a tray
of drinks, “You know what he is like.”

“I can’t stand him!” Glorianna took a glass and almost
poured the contents down her throat, “How can that man be related to Hogarth?”

“Quite easily.” Peg said, taking her own cocktail, “Don’t
take him to heart Glory.”

“Was he always like this? Or is it me? Does he resent
me?”

“Uncle Eustace was always queer. I don’t remember exactly
when he stopped being so welcome at the house, but it was when I was still a
girl.”

“He didn’t upset you Laura, did he?” Susan reached out a
hand to grip her friend’s wrist.

“Don’t be silly!” Laura grinned at them all, “I found it
all rather interesting. Dinner parties can be so dull. Oh, except yours
Glorianna.”

Glorianna waved off the unintentional insult.

“So…” Clara decided it was her turn for questions, “What
is Eustace’s story?”