A Death in Devon Page 5

  “Yes. He said there’s been a string of burglaries at the country homes of his clients. They were all holding house parties at the time. He is of the opinion you may be next.”

  “Indeed. Because I planned it that way.” He gave me a shrewd look that made me realize that perhaps his boisterous exterior was just that, a shell to hide a very keen intellect. “Here is what we know.” He settled in and took a long drink. “There have been four houses hit so far. Mine will be the fifth.”

  I wondered how he could be so sure. “Are all of them Mr. Woodward’s clients?”

  “Three of the five.”

  So Mr. Woodward’s office wasn’t the key. “Go on.”

  “Each house was hit during a house party, as you know. The guests were the cream of British society. Very wealthy. Very connected. Every guest had something stolen... jewelry, cash—though not much of that—and in one case a very expensive mink stole.”

  “All things that can be easily sold, I assume.”

  He nodded approvingly. “Yes, indeed.”

  “Were the same people at every party?”

  “Many of the same, yes. Though there were differences. I’m certain you can scrounge up a list from Mr. Woodward or one of his assistants.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “I’m to meet one of them tomorrow.”

  “Jolly good.” He drained his glass and rose. “Another?”

  “Not at the moment, thank you.” I’d barely taken two sips.

  He sauntered over and refilled his glass. Once he was seated again, I hit him with another question.

  “What time of day did the burglaries take place?”

  “All times. The first was at night. Everyone was asleep and the thief simply went from room to room liberating whatever he pleased. Dashed cheeky of him.”

  I didn’t disagree. “And the others?”

  He frowned and mulled it over. “The second was also at night, while the third was in the middle of the day.”

  “You’re joking. Talk about cheek!”

  “Indeed, young lady. He’s a brazen one.”

  “How did no one see him? There must have been people everywhere.”

  “I wasn’t at that particular event, but my understanding is that all the guests save the lady of the house were out attending an event in the village. The lady was down with a headache, and the maids had been banished below stairs so as not to disturb her. In he went, took what he liked, walked out bold as brass.”

  “And the fourth?” I asked.

  “The fourth was during a masked ball. Mostly rifled through the guests’ rooms which were empty, but it appears he may have lifted jewelry right off one guest.”

  “Good heavens!” The brazenness of the thief was astonishing. “I assume the police are involved.”

  “As much as we’ll allow them to be. We don’t want word getting out, so we haven’t exactly let them have free reign.”

  Which was astonishing. I couldn’t imagine telling the Portland Police Department they weren’t allowed to investigate a case. They’d probably throw you in jail for withholding evidence or something.

  “And you’ve no idea who the perpetrator might be?” I was proud of knowing the lingo. I’d seen enough Hollywood movies, after all. Not to mention all the detective novels I’d read. Maybe I could really do this.

  “I’m afraid not. It’s difficult to investigate without giving ourselves away, you see.”

  I nodded. “I get it. These are your peers. The people with whom you must deal on a regular basis both personally and in business. Ruffling feathers would no doubt be costly.”

  He grinned. “Jamie was right. You’re one bright cookie.”

  “Thank you.” I studied him a moment. “Lord Chasterly—Freddy—why are you willing to trust me? A stranger and a woman at that.” It wasn’t often that I found a man willing to entrust a woman with a shopping list, never mind a criminal investigation.

  He gave me a long look over the rim of his glass. “If you’re good enough for Jamie Woodward, you’re good enough for me.” He stood up, his old Bonhomme was back. “Another daiquiri?”

  “Why not.” Because apparently our meeting was over, and I was none the wiser.

  Chapter 5

  As it turned out, I was the first of the guests to arrive. All the rest were scheduled for the next day. His lordship clearly didn’t view me as a true guest and sent his apologies for dinner via Penny. I wasn’t about to sit alone in the massive formal dining room, so I took my dinner—or supper, as she called it—in my room.

  It turned out to be a rather nice evening. I didn’t have to get dressed up or try and pretend to be somebody I wasn’t. Instead, I ate in my new silk pajamas—luxury! —while polishing off the Christie novel I’d brought with me.

  I was determined to put the whole investigation out of my mind, but it was a difficult thing to do. I mean, who’d have ever thought it! Me, Sugar Martin, an undercover agent. It was so... Scarlet Pimpernel.

  Mr. Chambers—Jack—would be arriving in Meres Reach late morning. I was to meet him for lunch at the pub, the Sullen Oyster. It seemed so scandalous, a woman in a pub, but Penny assured me that as long as I was accompanied, the Sullen Oyster was a perfectly acceptable place for a lady. Hopefully Jack would have more information for me.

  I was also really keen to meet this Lady Antonia Penny rambled on about. She sounded fascinating.

  I had managed to get a guest list from Penny, such as it was. She’d scrawled it on the notepad on my desk. Her handwriting was like chicken scratch and difficult to make out, but I managed.

  Lady Antonia was, of course, first. The only thing Penny had written was “I already told you about her.”

  “Yes, Penny, very helpful,” I murmured, licking the last of the peach crumble and custard off my spoon.

  Simon and Mary Parlance were next. “Honourables,” Penny had written. Whatever that was. “Twins. Supposed to be v. rich.” I assumed the v stood for “very.” Curious about the use of “supposed.” Were they not so rich after all? Had they lost all their money, perhaps? That might put them in dire straits. Were they the ones behind the thefts? Or maybe Penny just didn’t know what their status was. It was impossible to tell.

  I had to squint at the next line. “Lady Fortescue. Single. Has it bad for... his lordship.” Well, that was interesting. Freddy was handsome for an older man, so I could understand this Lady Fortescue having a crush on him, but what could her motive for theft be? Or did she even have one?

  Next on the list was a Mr. Raymond somebody. It looked like the surname started with an F, but it was hard to tell it was so badly written and a bit smudged. All Penny had written about him was “don’t know.”

  And finally, a Mr. Alexander Malburn. To which Penny had concluded, “I think he’s an heir to a barony or something.”

  Including my host and myself, that meant there were four men and four women at this house party. It didn’t seem like a large selection from which to steal, but if they were all supposedly wealthy, perhaps it would be tempting to the thief.

  On the bottom of the page in more of Penny’s sprawling hand was, “Party on Saturday, everyone invited. Not just houseguests.”

  I had no idea who “everyone” encompassed, but I was betting it meant lots more rich people which meant many more targets for the thief. It also meant the thief might not be one of the main guests at all, but someone from the greater pool of guests.

  “You know,” I said to Tippy who was snoring gently next to the bed, “this is proving a little more difficult than I thought it would be. How does Mr. Woodward think I could possibly figure this out?” Welding I could do. Secretarial work... well, that was a little iffier. But solving a crime? It was a good thing that, in addition to Christie, I read all those dime store detective novels. The ones women weren’t supposed to read. As if that ever stopped me.

  “Yes, I think I’ve fallen off the deep end. But desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  Tippy ignored m
e and I went back to reading the latest edition of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. I must have dropped off at some point, for something startled me awake. Disoriented, I stared around the room trying to figure out where I was and why I wasn’t asleep. The reading lamp was still on, and the clock read two in the morning.

  Tippy stared up at me from his place on the floor, ears cocked. I didn’t know much about dogs, but I had a feeling that meant something. What had roused the both of us?

  I got up and padded barefoot to the bathroom to get myself a glass of water. The tile was chilly beneath my feet, and cold air whispered in through the window that had been left slightly cracked. It was then I heard a sort of tumbling sound followed by a crash and a mumbled curse word that shouldn’t be repeated in public.

  I froze. The room on the other side of the wall was reserved for the incoming guests. Penny had told me as much, though she hadn’t been sure who was assigned to that room. Still, there shouldn’t have been anyone there as the guests didn’t arrive until tomorrow. Or rather, later today.

  Creeping back into my room, I snapped at Tippy. “Come on, Tip. There’s an intruder. Time to be fierce.” I wasn’t sure a corgi could be fierce, but I was willing to give it a shot if he was.

  Tippy let out a soft groan rife with annoyance and heaved himself to his feet. I opened the door as quietly as I could, and together we padded out into the hallway and along the corridor to the next door. There were definite sounds of movement.

  I glanced down and gave Tippy a nod. I swear he nodded back.

  Bracing myself, I thrust the door open and shouted, “Got you!”

  The woman on the other side let out a shriek and threw something which crashed against the doorframe and smashed into a thousand pieces. I barely managed to duck. Tippy let out a yelp. And then the three of us were facing off like something out of a gangster movie.

  The dark-haired woman dressed in a frothy yellow peignoir pointed a letter opener at me. A sharp looking thing that had my heart beating faster. “Who the devil are you? And what are you doing in my room?”

  “Your room?” I gasped.

  Tippy yelped helpfully.

  “Yes.” She tilted her head back revealing a stunningly beautiful heart-shaped face off-set by a widow’s peak and a single shock of white hair in the dark. She was about ten years older than me but with a beauty I could only dream about. “I am Lady Antonia, and this is my room. Now who the devil are you?”

  I nearly wilted with relief, which was followed closely with embarrassment. “I’m Sugar Martin, one of the other guests. I’m sorry. I just—I heard a noise in here, and I thought... the other guests weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow. Well, today now.”

  “Exactly. I arrived today just as I said I would.” She grinned and tucked the letter opener away on the dainty white desk.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry. I just... I didn’t realize. Um, welcome?” The last came out lame, but it was the best my befuddled brain could manage.

  She laughed lightly. “No worries. It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all day.” She winked. “And who’s this little darling?” She knelt down and gave Tippy a rub under the chin which sent him into ecstasy.

  “Tippy. He’s my au—he’s my dog.”

  Tippy turned his head and gave me a baleful look. Apparently he didn’t consider himself my dog.

  “Simply adorable. I do love dogs, but I travel so often it doesn’t seem fair to keep one of my own, you know?” She rose.

  “Oh, sure.” I didn’t bother to tell her that I wouldn’t have this dog if he hadn’t been thrust upon me. I doubted she would understand. Dog people never do. “I am sorry to bother you. I should go back to my room.”

  “Oh, no! Please stay. I rarely get the chance for girl talk. Have a seat. I’ve got something lovely stashed in my trunk.” She grinned devilishly and dived into the steamer trunk that still sat in the corner. She came back up with a pair of crystal tumblers and a bottle of port.

  Since it would be rude to refuse, I accepted a glass of ruby liquid as I sat cross-legged on her bed. Her room was a mirror image of mine with pink walls and accents instead of blue, and navy soft furnishings instead of pink.

  Unlike me, Lady Antonia was just as frothy as her room and just as lovely. Despite being silly o’clock, her face was done up perfectly with ruby red lips, moonglow skin, and her eyes were done with a line of black eyeliner along the top lid and a single rich blue color blended in. I wasn’t sure if her eyelashes were naturally that thick and dark or if she were using mascara. She was stunningly beautiful, and I could see why Penny got a bit giddy when talking about her.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” she said, draping herself elegantly on the bed, a glass of port dangling from one hand. “What sort of a name is Sugar?”

  “A nickname,” I explained. “My father gave it to me when I was young, and it sort of stuck.”

  “Well, if I’m to call you Sugar, you should call me Toni. All my friends do.” She grinned and a dimple popped in her cheek.

  I felt an unexpected rush of warmth that this glorious creature wanted me to be her friend. Perhaps that was silly, but I didn’t have many friends. All mine had gotten married, had children, and no longer had time for a spinster. I so did hope Toni wasn’t the thief.

  “You’re from America?” She took a sip of her wine.

  “Yes. Oregon. On the West Coast.”

  “Never heard of it. Is it near Hollywood? I do adore Hollywood!”

  I repressed a grin. “Close.” If close meant more than a thousand miles. “Have you been to Hollywood, then?” I never had, though it sounded terribly exciting and glamorous.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “But it sounds marvelous doesn’t it? All those gorgeous film stars.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly.

  Over the next hour I discovered that Lady Antonia was, as Penny had claimed, a widow and a rather merry one at that. She and Lord Chasterly were old friends having more or less grown up together, although she was “quite a bit younger.” Her words, not mine.

  “He’s always after me, you know,” she confided. “Thinks he’d make an excellent second husband. Let me tell you, I’ve no intention of having any more husbands. Too much trouble. But he does throw the best parties.”

  “Do you go to a lot of house parties in the country?” I asked, thinking of all the various ones that had been burgled.

  “As often as possible, but I’ve been in the South of France for the past few months, so I’ve missed out on quite a lot.”

  Which meant she probably wasn’t the thief. I was oddly relieved, as I truly liked her.

  After two or three glasses of port and a bit of gossip about people I’d never heard of, I managed to beg off and return to bed, Tippy at my side.

  “Well, that was interesting,” I said as I crawled back under the covers.

  He agreed.

  MERES REACH WAS ENTIRELY adorable close up. I hadn’t gotten a good look when I’d viewed Aunt Euphegenia’s cottage, but I was thrilled to see the sort of place I’d be living in. The cobbled streets, though difficult to walk on in heels, were beyond charming. The shops, huddled close together in their ice cream colors, begged me to enter. The sun overhead urged me to enjoy the sea breeze awhile longer. But I had business to attend to.

  I’d woken surprisingly early after my morning tryst with Toni. Johnson had been startled to see me up and about, but had nonetheless provided me with eggs, toast, and coffee. He’d muttered an apology about not having a proper breakfast ready, but I assured him it was all I needed.

  After breakfast, I’d informed him I was taking Tippy for a walk. Tippy was not at all pleased about the distance to town, but I didn’t want anyone in the house knowing where I was going or why, so I didn’t dare ask for a lift.

  The Sullen Oyster sat facing the bay, its half-timbered beams dark with age and the hand painted sign showing what looked more like a clam than an oyster, though it was definitely cranky.
I wondered where it had gotten its very strange name.

  I felt a bit nervous about entering a pub. It didn’t seem like a place a lady would go, but I reminded myself I was an investigator and made of sterner stuff. “You stay here, Tippy.” I tied him to a post outside the door. I was betting it was made for hitching horses back in the day. “I won’t be long.” I hoped.

  Tippy gave me a disgusted glare and settled down to wait.

  Was that a stab of guilt I felt? Surely not!

  The pub was dim and warm and smelled of yeast and tobacco with a haze of bluish smoke permanently settled in the air. The ceiling was low with heavy oak beams and a low fire burned in a stone fireplace, blackened with soot. All eyes turned toward me as I entered. No doubt because I was the only female in the place. I blushed furiously, but straightened my shoulders, tilted my chin, and marched in.

  “Miss Martin, over here!”

  Jack sat in a corner booth with a good view over the street to the bay. I hurried to join him, relief flooding me. At least I wasn’t alone. All those stares made the skin between my shoulders twitch. Although, once I was with my escort, everyone else lost interest.

  “Should you really shout my name out like that in public,” I hissed as I approached the table.

  “I wouldn’t worry. Nobody from Endmere would be seen in this place, except maybe Freddy and he knows who you are. Maybe we should go outside,” he said as I slid into the booth. The rich wood of the table shone dully in the faint light streaming in from the window. “I don’t think they’re used to women here.”

  “What if someone sees us together?” I argued. “Our cover will be blown. They’ll just have to deal with it.” I set my chin stubbornly.

  He grimaced. “Very well. How are you settling in?”

  “Fine. Lord Chasterly and his staff are very kind. And I just met the first guest, Lady Antonia. She showed up in the middle of the night.”

  He raised a brow. “That’s odd, isn’t it?”