Page 78 of Murder Most Actual

Odds were, Liza wasn’t going to like the answer to her next question. “And who has access to the cellar?”

“Basically everyone.”

That figured. But it meant the easy bit was over. “And … look, I’m not really sure how to say this, but … you should know Sir Richard is going to try to pin this whole thing on you.”

“Oh, fuck off. What’s his evidence?” From the look on Mary’s face, she didn’t seem to think a lack of evidence against her would be much protection, and a cynical part of Liza thought she had a point.

“Opportunity. And he really wants it to be a single killer, and every living guest has an alibi for at least one murder. The colonel was the last person who could have been behind all the killings, and,”—Liza shot an uncomfortable glance in the direction of his body—”well …”

Mary didn’t exactly seem reassured. “So why me? Why not Emmeline or Mr Burgh?”

“Apparently, you had problems with Mr Ackroyd? And maybe also with Lady Tabitha?”

That provoked an understandable sound of frustration. “Oh, for fuck’s—Mr Ackroyd was slightly creepy, I mentioned it to Quinn, and he went off on the guy because he’s a white knight. Nice enough, but a white knight. As for Lady Tabitha—that’s complicated and personal.”

Hanna—who got irritable when sleep-deprived—glared. “And you think, ‘It’s complicated and personal’ is going to stand up in court?”

“No.” Not to be out-glared, Mary folded her arms and locked eyes with Hanna. “But you’re not a court. You’re two randoms up from London who didn’t even bother to learn my fucking name until nearly everybody else was dead. I don’t need to tell you jack shit.”

“True,” said Liza, determinedly good-copping. “But having somebody in your corner when the police get here could be really helpful.”

The glaring did not abate. “And you’ll only be in my corner if I tell you things you’re curious about?”

As much as Liza hated to admit it, that was a fair point. “True. I’m not threatening to back Sir Richard up if you don’t play ball, I’m just—” She was just what? That was what it came down to in the end, wasn’t it? Why was she doing all this? “You’re right. I’m curious. I just … This is a weird, out-of-control situation, and knowing what’s going on helps me keep my head together.”

“How do you think I’ve been feeling?” Mary’s tone wasn’t even a short bus ride from sympathetic. “You lot have been scooting about playing with guns and doing the amateur detective thing and I’ve been at work. I’ve had to make the beds of people who might murder me and then hoik their bodies out to the stables when they got themselves killed.”

When she put it like that, Liza could see why she wasn’t especially keen to play ball. It wasn’t, after all, a ball game for her. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. And you’re right. If somebody’s going to try to send me down for all this, it’s probably best to get my side out. Lady T was my grandmother.”

No. No fucking way. “Let me guess, illegitimate daughter?”

“That’s the one. I told her. She didn’t want to know, we had a bit of a row, I think one of the guests overheard us.”

“Vivien Ackroyd?” asked Liza, trying not to sound too clue-excited.

“Maybe. I don’t really pay much attention to you lot. If I hadn’t been working the night shift, I’d have been home right now ignoring all of this nonsense.”

The door opened again, and the awkwardly young footman came in. Which meant it was time for them to move the body, and it seemed best to just let them get on with it.

Retreating from the latest of the many murder rooms, Liza and Hanna did their best to pull themselves together, which, in a world of mysterious poisoners, suddenly-revealed illegitimate grandchildren, and essentially no sleep, was turning out to be tricky.

“So that’s …” Liza began.

“Yeah,” agreed Hanna. “And we really should have been less classist about this.”

“I was mostly thinking about the poison.”

“Oh, right.” An I’m-not-going-to-like-this-but-will-go-along-with-it-anyway expression crept over Hanna’s face. “You want to go check out the cellar, don’t you?”

Liza really wanted to say no, but—and maybe it was just the hope of rescue, or the fact that there were hardly any suspects left—she was really starting to feel like things were falling into place. Of course, what that place was, she still hadn’t worked out. “Kinda?”

Reaching out a hand, Hanna took her arm. “Come on then, let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Liza, in the Cellar, with the Poison

---