A Killer Ball at Honeychurch Hall (21 page)

“Hook-the-rubber-duck,” Mum declared.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Rupert demanded.

“When the fair and traveling boxing emporium used to come here in the summer, m'lord,” said Mum. “We ran quite a few sideshows. Hook-the-rubber-duck was one. And very popular it was, too.”

“There are probably dozens of these trinkets all over the place,” Alfred scoffed.

“You mean—this is worthless?” Shawn's disappointment was plain.

“Of course it's worthless, my man,” said Rupert. “And obviously, since a similar necklace was worn by Mummy's friend, she probably won it at the … what was it—?”

Lavinia rolled her eyes again. “Hook-the-rubber-duck…”

“Absolutely not,” Edith chimed in. “Pandora would never have worn cheap jewelry—especially not to my birthday ball. She liked to show off. You must be mistaken.”

“I'm afraid not, m'lady,” said Shawn. “Pandora Haslam-Grimley was wearing one just like this around her neck.”

“I thought her neck was broken?” Mum said bluntly.

“So basically, we're no further forward with this charade,” said Rupert.

“I still think its evidence, sir,” Clive protested and opened the plastic shopping bag for Shawn to drop the Ziploc bag back inside.

The library door opened and Roxy scurried in wearing a huge smile.

“Don't bring Harry in here!” shrieked Lavinia.

“He's helping Mrs. Cropper in the kitchen,” said Roxy. “But I've got news that just can't wait.” She grabbed Shawn's elbow and wheeled him into the corner. Then she passed him a note.

We all watched with bated breath as he read it and broke into a huge grin.

“Good news,” he said. “Ginny has been found.”

I'd never felt so relieved. “Thank God! Whatever happened?”

“Ginny who?” said Edith.

“That reporter,” spat Rupert. “The one who Katherine talked to.”

“Was she missing?” said Lavinia blankly.

I realized that Shawn was watching everyone's reactions keenly.

“Where was she?” I asked.

“A man walking his dog on Dartmoor found her wandering around in her pajamas.”

“On Dartmoor?” everyone chorused.

“She could have died of hypothermia!” I said.

“Or fallen into a bog,” said Roxy. “It's treacherous out there. Everyone knows that.”

“Where is she now?” I asked.

“Totnes Hospital,” said Roxy. “She's in no fit state to talk to anyone at the moment but when she can, we're confident we'll know what happened.”

I was truly puzzled. Had Bryan abducted Ginny, driven her to Dartmoor in her car, dropped her off and returned the car? Why would he go to all the bother and not just use his camper van?

“I don't think we can help you any more, this morning,” said Rupert briskly. “This newspaper girl has nothing to do with us. We all have alibis for the Laney chap's death—”

“Of course, m'lord,” said Shawn. “You're all free to go—except for the Stanfords and Mr. Bushman, here.”

“I hope you won't keep Iris long,” said Edith, “because I'd like her to accompany me to church this morning.”

“Me? To
church
?” Mum cried. “Why, yes, of course, your ladyship.”

“And Rupert is going to drive us there.”

“I'm afraid I've got a meeting,” said Rupert.

“So you said.” Lavinia sounded suspicious. “Where?”

“Why are you questioning me?” said Rupert. “If you must know, I'm going to talk to someone about the plasterwork ceiling.”

“Where?” Lavinia said again.

“At his house in Exeter.”

“Good. Then you can drop us off and pick us up afterward,” said Edith smoothly. “We'll wait for you, Iris, in the car at the front of the house.”

We moved en masse out of the library and into the icy-cold galleried reception area with Clive trailing behind still clutching the plastic carrier bag. Mum pulled her mink coat closer.

“Gather round, gather round,” said Shawn. “Well, good news, Iris. We found your car.”

“Oh, that's wonderful,” gushed Mum. “Isn't that wonderful, Alfred?”

“Amazing,” he said. “Bloody amazing—pardon my French.”

“Yes, it looks like some kids had taken it for a joyride—just as you suspected,” said Shawn. “Extraordinary isn't it?'

“May I ask where you found my car?” said Mum, feigning innocence.

“Heathfield Business Park in Newton Abbot—”

“A business park? In Newton
Abbot
? Fancy. Well I never.” Mum looked to Alfred. “Did you hear that, Alfred? Newton Abbot.”

“Was there any damage?” said Alfred. “Knowing what kids can be like.”

“Happily, no,” said Shawn. “It looks like they just ran out of petrol and abandoned the car. Right in the middle of the road.”

“I'm so relieved!” Mum said happily.

“Of course you'll have to pick it up at the pound,” said Shawn.

“Thank you so much.” Mum beamed. “Excellent police work!”

“There is one thing, however…” Shawn turned his gaze to me. “Something that Katherine might find interesting.”

My heart sank.

“Luxton's, the auctioneers, have a warehouse in Heathfield Business Park,” he went on. “It was broken into last night.”

“Oh no!” Mum exclaimed. “What a shame. But I can't see why that should concern us.”

“Why
would
it concern us, Officer?” Alfred echoed with a complete poker face.

“Since your car was in the vicinity of the robbery, Iris, we'll need to dust for fingerprints—just as a precaution you understand,” said Shawn.

“Kids!” Mum said with disgust. “What do they want with old drawings?”

Shawn frowned. “I didn't mention any drawings, Mrs. Stanford.”

“Well!” Mum said gaily. “Kat told me about an auction and drawings or paintings or something … I just assumed…”

“Yes, that's right, I did.” I had that all-too-familiar sinking feeling in my stomach. “In fact, Edith put two drawings into the sale.”

“So I heard,” said Shawn. “Eric dropped them off at Luxton's. I believe that they were the Hollars that were hanging in the King's Parlor.”

“Oh dear!” Mum exclaimed. “Well, let's hope they weren't among the items stolen.”

“We should have a list tomorrow,” said Shawn. “We're confident we'll find the culprit.”

“Kids can get sloppy,” said Alfred.

“Oh no,” said Shawn. “On the contrary. It was a professional job.”

“Ah,” said Alfred with a satisfied grunt.

“However, Heathfield Business Park is installed with the latest surveillance technology,” Shawn went on. “Cameras are everywhere. I'm quite certain we'll catch whoever was responsible. We've already alerted the Art and Antiques Unit in London.”

Mum gave a little gasp. I daren't look at her. The Art & Antiques Unit meant that there was no way that David would not find out.

“Well, thank you for tracking down my car,” said Mum. “I have to go to church now.”

“Are you planning on going to confession?” Shawn said.

Mum looked startled. “
Me?
No. Why?”

“Edith is Catholic, I believe.”

“Oh,” said Mum. “I'm a bit of a pagan if you really want to know.”

“And I've got horses to see to,” Alfred put in. I had to admire his sangfroid. His face gave absolutely nothing away whereas I was certain that mine did.

“Of course,” said Shawn. “We'll be wanting to talk to you—
both
of you—again.”

“Any time,” Mum said cheerfully and followed Alfred out of the room.

“I'd better be going, too,” I said.

“Let's go into the kitchen, shall we?” said Shawn. “I have a couple of things to ask you.”

As we passed through the green baize door that divided the old servants' quarters from the rest of the house, raised voices could be clearly heard.

“Surely that's not Rupert?” I exclaimed.

Shawn stopped. We both strained our ears and heard every single word.

“I knew it!” shouted a man's voice. He was furious. “All these years, I
knew
it!”

Mrs. Cropper's answer was drowned out by another burst of indignation.

“Wait. That doesn't sound like Rupert,” I said suddenly. “Is that … surely … that can't be Mr.
Cropper
?”

“Let's go somewhere else.” Shawn grabbed my arm and steered me back the way we had come.

“Was he shouting at Mrs. Cropper?” I was still stunned.

“He's a bit deaf,” said Shawn defensively. “He doesn't know how far his voice carries. That's all.”

I felt reluctant to say the obvious. Shawn had to have seen how nervous Mrs. Cropper was this morning—especially when Mum talked about Bryan. She definitely reacted to the sight of the necklace, too. Perhaps Mrs. Cropper had been one of Bryan's many conquests and Mr. Cropper still bore a grudge. Yet, was it enough of a grudge to kill Bryan with a tire iron?

“How long have your grandparents been together?” I said to Shawn as we paused at the front entrance. The rain was coming down in sheets.

“I have no idea,” he said. “Do you mind continuing this conversation in my car?”

He gallantly removed his trench coat and held it over my head whilst walking alongside me. In the twenty feet it took us to reach his panda, Shawn was utterly drenched.

He opened the front passenger side, helped me in—even protecting my head as I slid into the seat. Then, he hurried around to the driver's side.

Within minutes, the car windows steamed up. It felt unnervingly intimate and rather romantic in an odd sort of way with the rain hammering down on the roof. I could smell bananas—the peculiar scent that always accompanied Shawn wherever he went.

I bundled up his trench coat and handed it back to him. He tossed it into the backseat.

“Look, I'll come straight to the point,” said Shawn. “Everything points to your mother's involvement. The book with her name in it, the Cleopatra costume, the necklace—”

“Alfred said those necklaces were everywhere—”

“The motive, the opportunity—”

“Are you talking about Pandora?” I said.

“I'm talking about all three—Pandora, Bryan
and
Ginny.” Instead of accusation in his eyes, I saw compassion. “We all know your mother has a lot to hide. We like Iris. I know that Edith is very fond of her—but … this is murder we're talking about, Kat.”

I felt sick.

“You're not helping Iris by covering for her!”

“I'm not covering for anyone,” I said.

“We
know
she was involved in Pandora's disappearance.”

“I don't see how! It's just circumstantial evidence,” I said hotly. “Just because Pandora wore the costume that was intended for Edith doesn't make my mother a killer. And anyway, what about the thank you letter that Pandora wrote to Edith?” I said. “Have you had any luck with that?”

“The dowager countess says she didn't keep it. We'll probably involve a forensic handwriting expert to take a look at the writing on the flyleaf of the book and—”

“But even if the book
had
belonged to my mother, I don't see how that proves she was there.”

“It proves that she knew the double-hide was there.”

“Perhaps Edith's brother Rupert told her?” I said. “Or told someone else who told her—”

“Or maybe she's covering for Alfred?” Shawn's eyes bored into mine. I had to look away.

I didn't even need to bring up Bryan. My mother had admitted she attacked him.

“And surely, if she is such a bad person, she would have done something far worse to Ginny rather than dumping her off on Dartmoor,” I said. “I mean—why not hit her with a tire iron and be done with it?”

“I know it's hard to believe.” To my surprise, Shawn reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “And then there is the car theft. I'm just not sure where that bit fits in.”

I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Shawn leaned back in his seat and gave a heavy sigh. We sat there in silence with the rain still hammering on the roof and the car getting so steamed up that I couldn't even see outside the windows.

“Kat,” said Shawn gently. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“About last night's break-in, you mean?”

“O-kay. Yes. We can start with that.” Shawn paused for a moment. “Dealing with Newton Abbot is not like dealing with … me. If you know what I mean.”

I nodded. I knew exactly what Shawn meant. He may be willing to hush things up.

“They'll obviously be conducting the inquiry because the crime falls into their jurisdiction,” Shawn went on. “If the drawings that Eric said he dropped off are on the list of items that were taken last night, then we'll obviously have to get involved.”

For a wild moment, I hesitated. What if I told Shawn the truth—that the Hollar drawings had been reported as stolen over twenty-five years ago; that they were still on the watch list; that Alfred had broken in to steal them … but then I stopped. I knew I couldn't. Alfred was on parole. Shawn may have been easily swayed when it came to keeping the Honeychurch affairs under wraps, but Alfred had definitely committed a crime—no matter how noble it had seemed at the time.

“As I said, Alfred and I went to the cinema.”

“I see,” Shawn said curtly. “We'll know soon enough. First thing tomorrow we'll have access to the CCTV surveillance tapes.”

“Good,” I whispered. “I think I'd better go.”

“It's still raining.”

“I'm fine.” I opened the door.