English Trifle (3 page)

“Take deep breaths,” Sadie said, brushing Breanna’s long dark hair off of her neck while scanning the area for a bucket or bowl in case Breanna’s shock got the best of her and she threw up.

“I’m feeling better,” Breanna said behind the veil of her hair, but her voice was weak, and Sadie wasn’t going to take any chances.

She heard footsteps and when she looked up, Mrs. Land, the housekeeper and cook as far as Sadie could figure, appeared in the doorway of the dish room. Her penciled-in eyebrows lifted to the middle of her forehead. “What are you doing here?” she asked with alarm. “It’s not allowed.”

“Can you get me a bowl or something? She might be sick.”

The woman paused for a moment before she disappeared, returning a moment later with a large silver bowl. She handed it to Sadie, who put it on the floor in front of Breanna. Another cook with Asian features joined Mrs. Land, her face equally shocked as she looked at the two of them. Both women wore what looked like black hospital scrubs covered with black aprons—rather clean and flour-free for two women obviously working in a kitchen—but Sadie’s mind was still a whirl of thoughts and she was unable to distract herself from what had brought her here in the first place.

“There’s a man in the sitting room,” she said fast, trying to explain why they were there and why Breanna was suddenly weak in the knees.

“Um, a man?” Mrs. Land asked carefully, sounding confused, cluing Sadie in on the fact that she’d left out some rather pertinent information.

“He’s dead!” Sadie spat out in order to make sure she said it. It was a surprise to hear that the words even worked on her tongue and she found herself questioning it all over again. Had he really been dead? Was it truly a poker stuck through his chest? Even though she knew the answers, it was quite another thing to really believe those answers.

Mrs. Land pulled back with a gasp when the words registered with her, while the other woman’s eyes went even wider and she put a hand to her mouth. “Who’s dead?” Mrs. Land asked.

“The man in the sitting room. He’s got a poker clear through his chest, pinning him to the wall. I think—” Sadie cut herself off as she realized she hadn’t yet considered if she recognized the man. It took only a moment to realize she knew who he was. His name was John Henry, and he served as the earl’s personal nurse. Sadie had seen very little of him since he was usually at the earl’s bedside and Sadie hadn’t spent much time there. However, regardless of how seldom their paths had crossed, realizing she knew who he was caused the room to tilt beneath her feet a little bit.

The two women continued to stare at her, but she was loathe to tell them the identity of the corpse who had been their coworker. Her neighbor, Anne, had been murdered only a few months ago and the shock of it still hadn’t faded. She did not want to be the one responsible for announcing a similar situation for these women.

“Have you seen Liam? I need to find him. Someone needs to call the police.” She couldn’t believe that only four months after coming face-to-face with murder for the first time, she was facing it again. What were the chances?

Mrs. Land just stood there—as did the other cook. Then Mrs. Land seemed to shake herself out of it. She moved toward the door, then stopped when she was even with Sadie. She turned to face Sadie, who pulled back because Mrs. Land was so close. “Um,” she glanced toward the other cook and spoke in a whisper. “Please don’t let her follow me.” Then she turned to the other woman. When she spoke, it was in the kind of tone Sadie would use to speak to a small child or a pet. Far too calm for the circumstances. “Stay here—the earl will be expecting his dinner at eight.”

Even with his nurse dead in the sitting room? Sadie thought to herself. Can’t they order pizza just this once? Can you have pizza delivered to an English estate? Do they even have pizza delivery in Devonshire?

Mrs. Land pushed through the double doors while Sadie pulled her thoughts back to the situation.

“Wait!” Sadie called after her, realizing she’d just been left in charge. But Mrs. Land was gone.

With the doors swinging shut, Sadie looked at Breanna, who was still bent over and taking deep breaths. Breanna lifted her head to look at her mother. “I’m okay,” she said, attempting to use the desk to stand. Sadie knew that Breanna’s embarrassment of appearing so delicate was bothering her as much as anything.

Sadie hurried to her. “No, no, don’t stand yet,” she said, pushing her gently back into the chair. “Can you text Liam and tell him where to find us?”

Breanna nodded, and leaned forward again, digging her phone out of her pocket in the process and seemingly relieved to have something to do.

Sadie turned to face the other woman who continued to regard her with shock, tears forming in her almond-shaped eyes. Though she’d dropped her hand from her mouth, she looked pale beneath the light brown color of her skin. The two women stared at each other; Sadie tried to force a smile, though the muscles in her face resisted.

“Hi,” she finally said after a few seconds had passed and she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She put out her hand. “Um, I’m Sadie Hoffmiller, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

The woman remained silent, blinked once, then turned on her heel and began to run. Sadie paused a moment before taking off after the woman. On the left side of the large kitchen was a door, and Sadie was navigating her way around the butcher-block table when she realized the other woman was headed toward it.

“Wait,” Sadie called out even as she questioned herself on why she was becoming involved. “Stop.”

The woman reached the door just as Sadie caught up with her and grabbed her arm. The woman’s hand was on the doorknob and she made a whimpering sound in her throat.

“Please, stay here,” Sadie pleaded in a breathless voice. She hadn’t yet recovered from the shock of finding the body and was in no condition to chase down the assistant cook. Mrs. Land’s words rung in her ears: “Don’t let her follow me.” Was it only following that was the problem? Was it alright if she left? Somehow, Sadie didn’t think so and the other woman’s desire to get out sent off yet more alarm bells in Sadie’s head. The police would be coming, they would need to talk to everyone. She tightened her grip on the woman’s arm. “Please wait for Mrs. Land to come back.”

“I can’t,” the woman said, her accent different from Mrs. Land’s or Grant’s, but still British. Sadie had learned during this trip that in England, a person’s speech not only revealed where they were from, but also what class they belonged to—but of course Sadie didn’t know how to decipher it. The woman’s dark eyes filled with tears as she looked at Sadie. She was a petite woman, trim and young. She wore a black scarf over her equally black hair. Devoid of makeup, her complexion was as flawless as any Sadie had ever seen. “He made me promise if something happened, I’d disappear.”

“He?” Sadie repeated. “He who?”

“Please,” the woman begged, openly crying as she tried to twist and pull her arm away; a sob broke through. “Please, I have to go.”

Sadie didn’t know what to do. “But—”

“Please,” the woman said again, and this time her voice was shaking, her eyes wild as tears streamed down her face. In that moment, sympathy overwhelmed sense. Sadie didn’t know how this woman was connected to John Henry, but the absolute terror on her face made it impossible for Sadie to detain her. The woman looked surprised for the briefest moment when Sadie let go.

“My name is Sadie Hoffmiller,” Sadie said again as the woman turned the knob and pulled the door open. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The woman seemed even more surprised by that, but then her face fell. “No one can help me with this,” she said before disappearing through the door.

~ ~ ~

The woman’s cryptic comments hung heavily in the air, but only a few moments passed before Sadie turned back to the kitchen, one of the largest—and cleanest—kitchens she’d ever seen. Countertops and sinks extended along one of the four walls, glass-fronted refrigerators and freezers along another, with ovens and stoves along a third. A huge butcher-block table stood in the center of the room, with a couple stools tucked underneath. A nearly full garbage can meant someone needed to take out the trash, but every other aspect of the kitchen was shined and polished to perfection—not what Sadie would have expected for what was essentially a commercial kitchen churning out food for a household and its staff three times a day—four if you counted high tea; five if elevenses were added to the list. She reflected on the details for only a moment before remembering that Breanna still needed help. Sadie found a dishrag in a drawer near the sink and ran it under cool water before ringing it out, hoping that the tight feeling in her stomach brought on by letting the assistant cook leave would disappear in a few moments. She hoped she hadn’t made too horrible a mistake.

“Lean over again,” she said when she returned to the dish room and found Breanna sitting up. Sadie moved Breanna’s hair out of the way and laid the cloth over her neck. “Deep breaths,” she said, while smoothing out Breanna’s hair. Within a few seconds, Breanna’s shoulders softened and her response helped relax Sadie as well. She took a deep breath while a thousand questions swirled through her mind. Who was the woman she’d just let go? What was her relationship to John Henry? Why didn’t Mrs. Land want the assistant cook to follow her? Why did Mrs. Land insist on leaving in the first place? What if she was the murderer and Sadie had let her go?

“I texted Liam,” Breanna said. Her voice sounded better. “He hasn’t texted back.”

“I thought all he had to do was say good-bye to his dad before we left,” Sadie said. “He’s been up there all day, hasn’t he?” She hadn’t minded waiting for him while they were enjoying their tea, but now his absence was unnerving. Why hadn’t Mrs. Land returned yet?

Breanna nodded and looked up at her mom, worried. “He wanted as much time with his dad as possible—he’s been on the phone most of the day. Do you think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Sadie said—but mostly because she was a mother and that’s the kind of thing mothers told their daughters when their daughters turned to them for help.

“I’d feel a lot better if he were here. Should we go find him?”

“I’m hoping Mrs. Land found him for us,” Sadie said, looking at the double doors separating them from the main part of the house with a curious kind of longing. What was going on up there? She hated being left out of the rising action she had no doubt was taking place up there in the sitting room.

Breanna sat up and leaned her head back, placing the rag on her forehead as she closed her eyes again. “Maybe that’s why he hasn’t responded; maybe he’s calling the police.”

“Maybe so,” Sadie said, looking at her watch. They were supposed to leave by 4:30. It was 4:26. “How are you feeling?” Sadie asked, placing the back of her fingers against Breanna’s cheek. It didn’t feel too hot or too cold; she hoped the shock had passed.

“Better,” Breanna said, opening her eyes and looking around the dish room. “I’ve never seen a dead body before,” she said, removing the rag as she straightened up. “At least not a human one.”

Sadie, however, had seen several in her lifetime. Perhaps that made it a bit less traumatic for her, or maybe she was just being strong for her daughter. Either way, she wasn’t nearly as unnerved as she imagined most people would be. Her curiosity, however, was fit to be tied, but she was determined to keep it together. “I think we should return to the foyer. I’m sure Scotland Yard will be here soon.”

“Was it John Henry?” Breanna asked carefully as she looked up at her mother once again.

Sadie nodded. “I think so.”

Breanna stood slowly, testing her balance before taking a step. Sadie stayed by her elbow in case she was needed, but Breanna seemed to have recovered and she walked back through the double doors on her own. “I didn’t imagine one of the things I’d do in England was make an official statement to the police about the dead body of the earl’s nurse,” Breanna muttered as they headed up the concrete steps. She held tightly to the handrail, moving slowly and carefully.

“Do you think we’ll make the news?” Sadie asked. She didn’t mean to sound excited about the prospect of being on television, but if the story made the international circuit her friends might see her. Did the Associated Press pick up international stories? What would people back home think about Sadie being involved in another murder investigation?

When they exited the second doorway and stepped onto the main floor, Sadie expected to encounter pandemonium. Mrs. Land crying or shouting, Grant trying to comfort her while Liam directed the police on where to go and who was who. She imagined more servants would be milling about, wringing their aprons and holding back tears. Instead, they rounded the Christmas tree and found the foyer empty—as silent and unoccupied as it had been when she and Breanna left it eight or nine minutes earlier.

They both stopped in the empty hall and looked around. For a brief moment Sadie wondered if they’d come out the wrong way, into a different foyer that looked exactly like the last one. The one thing she hadn’t expected to find was this—empty silence. She looked toward the sitting room door; it was closed. A shiver raced up her spine.

“Hello?” Sadie called out, not wanting to move. “Mrs. Land?”

No one answered and the mixture of fear, anxiety, and downright annoyance began bubbling. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Sadie marched into the center of the room so she could see up onto the balcony and down the hallways that led toward the library on the right and the formal dining area on the left. Not a single person was in sight. She took a deep breath and yelled at the top of her lungs: “Isn’t there anyone here but us?”

Her words echoed back to her but that was the only answer she received. After a few more seconds, she looked back at the sitting room door. Maybe Mrs. Land and Liam were in there? Could the stone walls keep them from being able to hear her? Her eyes drifted to the front doors that would lead them to the car that was supposed to take them to London.

Breanna had pulled her phone from her pocket again and dialed a number. After a few seconds, she pulled the phone away from her ear and scowled. “Voice mail,” she said, looking at her mother and pushing the phone back into her pocket. “Where is everyone?” She looked at the door to the sitting room. “Maybe they’re in there.”