Page 33 of And Then There Was the One
“Why do you say that?” he asked, all innocent curiosity. “I thought that the culprits had been apprehended in all of the cases.”
“Well,” Miss Lettercross said, faltering, “they have, yes—but once a village becomes a Murder Village, it is impossible to dispel the criminal atmosphere that descends upon it. It’s like a plague!”
“A plague of… murder?” Sebastian asked.
“Yes.” Miss Lettercross gave a quick, sharp nod.
“This all sounds very alarming,” he said solemnly. “I was reading the latest issue ofThe Deathly Dispatch, and the account of Mr. Marble’s final moments was harrowing.”
Harrowing, and completely fabricated, considering no one had been present, Georgie thought irately, but she did not interrupt, sensing that Sebastian was really getting into the spirit of the thing.
“Yes, well,” Miss Lettercross said with a little shake of her head, “you needn’t worry about anything like that happeninghere.” She gave Sebastian a flirtatious smile—one he returned easily.
“Such a relief,” he agreed. “The articles in theDispatchcaused a chill to run down my spine, I don’t mind telling you.”
“Well, perhaps you ought to consider Bramble-in-the-Vale when you are planning your next holiday, Mr. Fletcher-Ford,” Miss Lettercross said. The faintest smugness crept into her voice, and she darted a quick glance across the room at Georgie. It took everything within Georgie not to allow her natural protective instinct on the part of Buncombe-upon-Woolly to rise up and loosen her tongue.
“Perhaps,” Sebastian agreed, sticking his hands in his pockets and commencing a stroll around the room. “I don’t suppose you have the latest issue ofThe Deathly Dispatchto hand, have you? The one I was reading was last week’s edition.”
Miss Lettercross’s smile faded slightly. “No, I haven’t.”
“A pity.” Sebastian shook his head. “I’ve only recently arrived in this part of the country, you see, and am trying to learn as much as possible about… well…” He lowered his voice. “I just found the reporting in theDispatchto be reassuringly thorough. The article comparing the effects of various sleeping pills and powders!” His expression turned appreciative. “Admirable research! Just the sort of journalism I like to support.”
“Well,” Miss Lettercross said, watching him carefully, “I believe there will be a new issue on Monday morning.” A canny gleam lit her eye. “If you should feel the need to return to Bramble-in-the-Vale to procure a copy…”
“What a delightful prospect.” His smile widened even further.
“Why,” Georgie asked, causing both of the others to start, as if they’d forgotten her presence entirely, “would he need to return to Bramble-in-the-Vale?”
Miss Lettercross turned to her, her flirtatious smile vanishing. “I’m sorry?”
“To get a copy of theDispatch,” Georgie said. “The newsagent in Buncombe-upon-Woolly always has copies. Why should he return here?”
“Oh.” Miss Lettercross looked, briefly, a bit flustered. “Well, I believe we get our copies earlier—”
“And why is that?” Georgie asked, suddenly very curious.
“I, er—I heard someone speaking of it. A tourist who had been in Buncombe-upon-Woolly, who retreated here in search of a bit more…” Here, a delicate pause. “… upscale, refined entertainment.”
Georgie was tempted to snort. It was hardly as if Bramble-in-the-Vale were Paris, after all.
Sebastian, meanwhile, seemed to think that a bit of smoothing of ruffled feathers might be in order, for he directed the full force of his smile once more upon Miss Lettercross. “Have you lived here all your life?”
“Yes,” she said, tearing her eyes from Georgie after another long moment had passed. Her expression—which had turneda bit wary under Georgie’s line of questioning—softened once more now that she was looking at him.
“And you’ve worked for your father for… how long?” he asked, his tone still casual as he turned to look out the window at the high street beyond.
“Four years—just since I finished school,” Miss Lettercross said.
Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. “He must feel very fortunate to have you.”
Miss Lettercross preened a bit. “I like to think so.”
Georgie watched this exchange with a sour taste in her mouth. It struck her that, when explained in simple terms like this, her own biography and Miss Lettercross’s sounded virtually identical.
“Do you still live at home, then?” Sebastian asked, his attention still focused on Miss Lettercross.
She nodded. “My father says he’ll be devastated when I marry and set up my own household—not,” she added hastily, her gaze upon Sebastian turning worried, “that there are any candidates for matrimony.” The unspokenyetwas so loud and clear that it was nearly deafening. Georgie felt a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth and hastily attempted to smooth it.
