English Trifle (23 page)

“Yes, sir,” he said.

Liam looked relieved with the answer. Then he turned to Breanna, who spun on her heel and headed out of the room. He sent Sadie a look before hurrying after her. If not for the crumpets, Sadie would have followed. She hated that they were talking without her. It didn’t seem fair that after all she’d been through she was still being left out.

A couple minutes later Breanna returned, looking tense and subdued at the same time. She’d retied her robe around her waist.

“What did you talk about?” Sadie said.

“Nothing,” Breanna said darkly.

“You seem a little—”

“Dang it, Mom, I said we didn’t talk about anything! Will you stop grilling me every time I turn around? You’re not the only one experiencing things right now and if I don’t want to talk about it, you should accept my answer.”

Sadie blinked, stunned by Breanna’s reaction. It simply was not in Breanna’s nature to be so hotheaded. “O-kay,” Sadie said slowly. Then she smiled, hoping it would help Breanna adjust her mood. “What you need are some good homemade crumpets,” she said in as bright a voice as she could come up with. “Lucky for you, you’re stuck babysitting me in the right kitchen.”

~ ~ ~

Sadie looked around for somewhere she could put the poker she was still holding. She decided on a counter on the far side of the room, an area she didn’t plan to use. It was just gross to think that the poker had been skewering John Henry’s chest not too long ago. Nasty.

“Will you put a towel down over there?” Sadie asked, nodding toward the section of counter. “So I can put the poker on it. The dish towels are in the second drawer down on the right side of the sink.” She braced herself for Breanna yelling at her again, but Breanna just nodded and did as she was asked. It seemed that Breanna’s tantrum had used itself up. Thank goodness.

Sadie carefully laid the poker on the dishcloth, then let her apron fall. She flexed her hand a few times to work out the cramps. “I hope I didn’t destroy any evidence,” she said.

Breanna stared at the poker, letting her eyes travel from the handle to the pointed tip, then back up again. She nodded.

Sadie looked at her daughter with sympathy; Breanna just didn’t seem cut out for this kind of intensity. For her sake Sadie hoped the police took care of this quickly and easily so that Breanna wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. She couldn’t wait to tell the police what she’d found. There was no doubt in her mind that they would haul Austin off in handcuffs.

“I wonder what John Henry knew that got him killed,” Sadie mused as she pulled the crumpet batter out of the oven. Breanna didn’t answer, which Sadie took as permission to continue. “He must have known something about Austin, don’t you think?” Sadie asked. “Something Austin didn’t want anyone to know.” She walked over to the stove, where she set the griddle over two of the twelve burners, and turned on the heat. “Do you think he’d kill John Henry in order to hide his relationship with Lacy?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Breanna said, picking up the wooden spoon and stirring the casserole mixture Sadie had left on the butcher-block table. “Is there anything else that needs to go into this?”

Sadie looked over her shoulder at the casserole mix. “There were onions in the pantry,” she said. “But I don’t think I want them in the casserole anymore now that the pantry is a crime scene. See if you can find some onion powder or something. The only meat I could find was ham, and I like a little kick to my casserole.”

Breanna complied and went to the spice cupboard, moving different tins out of the way as she looked for something that would work. “How about sage?”

“Sage is good,” Sadie agreed. “Even a little basil would help it out.”

Breanna nodded and removed a couple of spices while Sadie greased the bottle rings in anticipation of making the crumpets. They worked in silence for a few minutes while Sadie considered why John Henry had been hiding behind the sitting-room curtains in the first place. For the life of her, she could not come up with a valid reason. Especially in light of the argument he’d had with Liam. “I wonder if John Henry was waiting in the sitting room because he wanted to tell Liam something and didn’t want anyone else to know he was doing it,” Sadie continued.

“Or maybe he was angry with Liam and was planning to kill him,” Breanna said, surprising Sadie with her intensity. Sadie looked up at her daughter, who was looking at the poker on the other side of the room. “Someone went in there armed, remember?”

“I guess I hadn’t considered self-defense,” Sadie said. “But John Henry was behind a curtain panel. How was that threatening?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Breanna suddenly said, returning to the casserole and stirring it with a vengeance, which was hard to do because the mixture was quite thick now that the potatoes had been added.

“Why not?” Sadie asked. They were finally getting somewhere.

Breanna added a bit more basil and began stirring again. “It just seems . . . inappropriate for us to be discussing it.” She made a little glance as if trying to look behind her without moving her head. Sadie looked past Breanna and then smiled at the security guard who was still standing exactly where Liam had told him to stand. He was watching them, listening to what they were saying.

Sadie smiled at him politely, then looked at Breanna. “Sorry,” she said. “You’re right.” The very walls of this house had ears; she should use more caution if for no other reason than to make sure the police didn’t hear from other people that she talked about the details too much. They might construe it as an unhealthy interest in the case. Sadie didn’t want that to happen.

“Let’s get these casseroles dished up while we wait for the police,” Sadie said, coming over to stand by Breanna.

Breanna looked visibly relieved. “Good idea,” she said, leaning over to pull the stack of individual dishes toward them. Sadie leaned into her and whispered so as not to be overheard. “We’ll talk about all this stuff later.”

Breanna nodded. “Sure,” she said. “For now, let’s just focus on breakfast.”

“Got it,” Sadie said with a conspiring wink, hoping that Breanna would be true to her word. Two heads were certainly better than one and Sadie liked having someone to bounce her ideas off of.

The police arrived a few minutes after the breakfast casseroles had been put into the oven. Inspector Dilree wasn’t alone this time but he was still several inches shorter than the other men with him and looked at least ten years younger. However, his expression made him look just as official.

The men inspected the cooler first while Breanna washed dishes and Sadie began cooking the crumpets, straining to hear anything she possibly could—but they kept their voices low enough that she didn’t pick up a single tidbit of knowledge. A few minutes later, more people arrived at the exterior basement door—a crime scene unit, Sadie assumed. Grant appeared out of nowhere and stood apart from the officers, presumably in order to help them with anything they might need. But Sadie couldn’t help but wonder if he weren’t also trying to pick up on how much they knew.

“Who checked out the kitchen yesterday?” she asked Breanna when she couldn’t silence her thoughts any longer. The first batch of crumpets were cooking, but the book had said it took six or seven minutes for them to get bubbly and dry around the edges so they could be turned over. So far they weren’t bubbling at all.

“Checked out the kitchen?” Breanna asked, turning off the sink and facing her mother.

“Remember? Austin paired everyone off and sent them to check out the house—looking for John Henry. Who was sent to the kitchen?”

“Um, I don’t remember,” Breanna said, smoothing her hair behind her ear.

“And how did the murderer get him down here?” Sadie continued. “We were in the dish room until we went back up to the sitting room. They would have had to pass us, right?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about this anymore,” Breanna said.

Sadie pointed toward the empty place where the security guard had been. “No one will overhear us,” she assured her daughter. “So we’re perfectly alright so long as we keep our voices down.”

Breanna considered that for a moment before giving in. “Maybe the person who moved the body isn’t the same person who killed him,” she said.

Sadie was confused. “What does that have to do with the fact that no one passed us on their way to the cooler?”

“You said the murderer would have brought John Henry down here and I’m just pointing out that you’re jumping to the conclusion that only the murderer would move the body.”

“Why would anyone else move it?” Sadie asked, confused by Breanna’s point. The tops of the crumpets were completely dry, with only a few holes on the top of each one. They didn’t look right and she scowled in discouragement.

Breanna let out a frustrated breath just as a broad-shouldered investigator came around the corner. He looked at a small notebook he held in his hand, then looked up at the two of them, glancing from Breanna to Sadie before letting his eyes stay on Sadie’s face. “Mrs. Hoffmiller?” he asked.

Sadie nodded carefully. A gurney with a big black plastic bag passed behind him on its way to the exterior door, pushed by two men in navy blue uniforms. Sadie swallowed. John Henry was in that bag, which she supposed was better than him being behind boxes in the vegetable pantry, but not by much. When the gurney moved out of sight, she met the inspector’s eyes again.

“I’d like to have a few words with you, if that would be all right?” he asked.

“Of course,” Sadie said. She took one step toward him before remembering the crumpets and looking back at the griddle.

“I’ll take care of these,” Breanna said, heading toward the stove. “You tell the inspector what you know.”

Sadie hesitated. She’d already invested a lot into this morning’s crumpets and didn’t like the idea of handing over the responsibility to someone else—even if they weren’t turning out. However, she didn’t imagine the inspector would understand if she tried to beg off the interview for crumpets. There was really little choice in the matter. “Read about how to cook them in the book,” she said. “They’re tricky.”

“Of course,” Breanna replied, heading toward the cookbook. She looked at Sadie who was still standing there watching, and then raised her eyebrows, reminding Sadie that the inspector was waiting for her.

Sadie turned quickly and smiled. “Where would you like us to go?”

“I think the staff dining area would work fine,” he said.

Sadie nodded and followed him through the doorway. It didn’t seem like a very private place to have such a private discussion, especially when the men who had wheeled out the gurney came back through the exterior door and passed not ten feet from where she and the inspector sat. It was raining, again.

“Mrs. Hoffmiller,” the inspector said, taking Sadie’s attention away from the weather and centering it precisely upon his shoulders. He extended his hand across the table. Sadie took it and gave it a firm shake, pleased to notice that he returned it just as firmly. He wasn’t a large man, though he certainly looked that way compared to Inspector Dilree. He was likely in his early forties and for a moment Sadie imagined planting a plaid cap on his head and a pipe in his mouth. He’d make a wonderful Sherlock Holmes. She wondered if the police department ever held costume parties for Halloween.

“My name is Inspector Kent,” he said as he withdrew his hand and opened a file on the top of the table. “I reviewed your statement given to Inspector Dilree yesterday and would like to hear your account of what took place this morning.”

“Certainly,” Sadie said with a nod. “Where would you like me to begin?”

Inspector Kent inclined his head and gave her a small smile. “Wherever you like,” he said. “This is your interview. If I need more information, I’ll ask for it.” He pulled a small recorder from his pocket. “Is it all right if I record this?”

“Of course,” she said, feeling far more comfortable with him than she’d felt with Dilree. She decided to start with the very beginning—waking up this morning. But a few minutes into the recounting, she remembered the discussion with Mrs. Land she’d had yesterday, so she went back to that. In addition to the tape recorder, Inspector Kent also took notes.

She finally finished and waited for the inspector to stop scribbling, noticing that she could smell the breakfast casseroles in the kitchen. She hoped Breanna was keeping an eye on them.

“Lord Melcalfe was the only other person you saw in the kitchen this morning?” the inspector asked.

“Yes,” Sadie said. “Manny walked me down, but I didn’t see anyone else.”

“And this staff member who ran out yesterday, do you know her last name?”

Sadie shook her head. “No, just Lacy.”

“Well, I’m sure Grant would have that information,” the inspector said. He scanned his notes, then looked up at her. “Is there anything else?” he asked.

Sadie scrunched her face and tried to think hard about everything she’d said. She wanted to be as forthcoming as possible, to tell him every detail. She was opening her mouth to tell him that was all when she remembered the argument she’d learned about between Liam and John Henry. She should tell Inspector Kent—she knew she should—and yet she worried that it would take their interest away from Austin, who she felt deserved their scrutiny more than Liam did. After a few seconds she determined not to dilute the implication she’d made toward Austin. “That’s everything I can think of,” she said, hoping he hadn’t read her hesitation.

“Very good, then,” Kent said as he stood, shaking her hand a second time. “I have some other interviews to conduct. If I need to ask you any more questions, I assume that would be acceptable?”

“Of course,” Sadie said. “I’m happy to help.”

She was on her way out of the staff dining room when she had a thought and turned back to the inspector who was sliding the tape recorder back into his pocket. “I was hoping to go into town later today; we need some groceries. Would that be okay?”

The inspector hesitated. “Actually,” he said. “We would prefer that everyone stay at the estate until we conclude our investigation of the crime scene.”