Page 51 of And Then There Was the One
And then he said nothing else, as if this were the sort of observation that required no further explanation, as though he hadn’t left Georgie feeling ever so slightly off-center.
Miss Halifax returned at this juncture, a bottle of whisky in one hand, three tumblers precariously balanced in the other. Georgie’s brows rose; Sebastian looked delighted.
“Why, Miss Halifax, whatexcellenttaste you have,” he said, springing to his feet to relieve her of her burden and examining the label on the bottle with an expert eye. “A twelve-year Macallan, one of my favorites.”
Miss Halifax smiled modestly. “I don’t get the chance to break it out very often—don’t want to shock any of the St. Drogo’s social club ladies, after all.”
Sebastian poured a couple of fingers of whisky into eachtumbler and raised his glass in a toast. “To murder! The fictional sort, of course! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Miss Halifax regarded him for a long, perplexed moment before taking a sip of her own drink. Her hair was pinned back less severely than it was when she was at work, and the soft chestnut locks shone in the evening sun. Georgie realized that she was a bit younger than she’d thought—probably only in her late thirties.
Georgie took a cautious sip of whisky. Aside from the occasional hot toddy Mrs. Fawcett had forced on her during illnesses, she’d never had it before, and she discovered that, once she got past the initial burn in her throat, she rather liked the feeling of warmth that settled in her stomach.
“So,” Miss Halifax said, setting her glass down on the table. “You wish to join the book club?”
Sebastian leaned forward, all eagerness; the gold frames of his glasses gleamed in the evening sun. (He had confided in Georgie on the walk into the village that he only used the glasses for reading, and even then, only when particularly small print gave him a headache.)
“If it wouldn’t be an imposition,” he said to Miss Halifax, wide-eyed and earnest. “I know I would be a last-minute addition, but when the book comes so highly recommended…”
Miss Halifax frowned. “Recommended by whom?”
“Well”—here, Sebastian lowered his voice to a reverent hush—“Miss de Vere and Miss Singh told me that the late Mr. Penbakerhimselfhad read and recommended the book.”
“Ah,” Miss Halifax said, her tone neutral, and she took another sip of her whisky.
“I had not realized he was such an avid reader,” Georgie said, attempting to convey mild surprise without overdoing it. Acting was not her strong suit. “Did he come to the library often?”
Miss Halifax leveled a shrewd glance at her. “He was involved in all aspects of village life, so yes.”
“Mmm,” Georgie agreed. “What did he like to read?”
“Mysteries,” Miss Halifax said. “I introduced him to Mrs. Christie’s work. I loaned him my copy ofThe Murder at the Vicarage, and he finished it two days later and wanted to spend an hour talking about it, the next time we met. When I decided to create the Book Clue Crew, he had plenty of suggestions for which books we should read—notthat I needed them,” she added, with the weariness of a librarian who was tired of other people telling her how to do her job.
“You’d have thought he’d get quite enough of murder mysteries in his own village without having to look for it in fiction.”
“I suppose,” Miss Halifax said, shrugging. “Although he was actually writing his own murder mystery, inspired by the village’s crime spree. I’ve the draft lying around somewhere. But perhaps that’s why he enjoyed reading them so much—they offered an escape from all the dreadful things happening here.”
“Did he seem like he needed an escape?” Georgie asked. “Did there seem to be anything bothering him? Some weight upon his shoulders?”
Miss Halifax paused, her glass halfway to her lips. “I think you’d have better luck asking his wife that question, Miss Radcliffe. There’s no reason I would know, after all.”
Georgie allowed approximately three seconds of silence to elapse before she said, “Isn’t there?”
Miss Halifax met her eyes levelly. “Miss Radcliffe, are you trying to accuse me of something?”
“I don’t know,” Georgie replied. “Was there something you wished to confess?”
Sebastian cleared his throat, and Miss Halifax’s gaze flicked to him. “I don’t think Miss Radcliffe means to cause any offense, Miss Halifax.” He smiled at her, then took another leisurely sip of his whisky. “It is only…” He trailed off, appearing a bit regretful.
“Yes?” Miss Halifax asked, looking as though she were curious in spite of herself.
Sebastian sighed, shaking his head. “It’s the other Murder Tourists, you see. They’ve got a bit… nosy.”
“Nosy,” Miss Halifax repeated.
Sebastian glanced around, as though worried one of said Murder Tourists might be lurking amidst the rosebushes, hoping to glean a juicy morsel of gossip, and leaned forward a bit in his chair, lowering his voice. “They’ve convinced themselves that you were having some sort of illicit affair with Mr. Penbaker.” He let out a chuckle, as though inviting Miss Halifax to enjoy this absurdity with him.
Georgie looked at Miss Halifax, who had gone a bit pale, her glass clutched tightly in her grip. Georgie got the sense that she was thinking—very quickly.
