Page 32 of And Then There Was the One
“Not a case,” Georgie said hastily, shooting an alarmed look at Sebastian. “Merely a bit of… curiosity.”
“Hmmm.” Miss de Vere sounded skeptical. “Well, I am a master of discretion, so you needn’t worry that I’ll give anything away.”
“She is,” Miss Singh put in with an appreciative nod. “It’s quite useful.” She and Miss de Vere exchanged a glance.
“All right, then,” Georgie said, still a bit reluctant but not seeing anything else for it than to let the women and Arthur go about their work. She turned to Sebastian. “Ready to do a bit of sneaking about?”
“Always,” he said readily, before adding, “It feels quite relaxing to be doing so without having to remove a single article of clothing or risking an irate husband trying to kick me in the—well,” he said, looking winsomely bashful. “Youknow.”
Georgie was momentarily lost for words, and with a grin, he reached over with a finger, which he stuck under her chin to close her gaping mouth.
“You know, darling Georgie, you’refrightfullyeasy to rile,” he said cheerfully, and then offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
As they walked away, Miss de Vere, Miss Singh, and Arthur approached the entrance to the council office, the women exclaiming loudly on the enchanting setting and beautiful weather. Arthur had his notebook out and appeared to be taking copious notes. They vanished inside, and Sebastian and Georgie ducked round the corner of the building and waited, poking an occasional cautious head around the side to watch the entrance.
Less than five minutes later, the Murder Tourists and their reporter companion emerged again, this time in the company of a man dressed in—Georgie grimaced—a pin-striped suit, flashing a blindingly white smile. She recognized him as Lettercross; she’d seen the man in passing on more than one occasion. He was speaking in a booming voice, and his words easily carried to Georgie’s ears.
“—say that you are staying in Buncombe-upon-Woolly itself? I don’t wish to alarm you, but I must say it seems a ratherdangerousplace these days. If, perchance, you were interested in visiting somewhere similarly charming but a bit safer…”
His voice faded as they continued out of earshot, moving at a somewhat meandering pace; Lettercross appeared to be pointing out any number of town landmarks to Miss Singh and Miss de Vere, who were playing their roles to perfection, all nodding eagerness. Arthur was scribbling dutifully away, and Georgie spotted Lettercross giving him a considering glance, which suggested that Arthur’s plan—of giving a strong impression that the article he was writing was likely to be picked up by the London papers—had been a success.
They waited another minute or so, to be safe, and then Sebastian offered her an easy smile and extended his arm, which Georgie took, trying hard not to notice its firm, reassuring strength beneath her hand. She and Sebastian approached the entrance to the council office, moving at a leisurely stroll that suggested that they were nothing more than a couple out for a pleasant Saturday meander around the village.
“Hello,” said a smiling woman sitting behind a tidy, elegant Queen Anne–style desk. She was very pretty, with rosy cheeks, bright blue eyes, and chestnut hair that was cut stylishly at her shoulders and pinned back with pearl hairpins. A typewriter sat on her desk, as well as a neat stack of papers and a diary that, at a glance, looked to be full of appointments. “Can I help you?”
“I am Miss Radcliffe,” Georgie said, “here to see Mr. Lettercross.”
The woman straightened a bit in her seat at the sound of Georgie’s name, but then wrinkled her brow. “I’m so sorry, he’s just stepped out—was he expecting you?”
“No,” Georgie said, “but Mr. Fletcher-Ford and I have come on the train from Buncombe-upon-Woolly, on official village business, so it’s rather important.”
“I see,” the woman said, her smile fading. “Well, if you’d like to wait for him to return…” She gestured at a pair of armchairs in a striped silk pattern that flanked the fireplace opposite her desk.
“We would, thank you, Miss…” Sebastian trailed off with an inquisitive smile.
“Lettercross,” the woman said, dimpling at him.
“Ah,” he said. “Then am I to assume that Mr. Lettercross is—”
“My father, yes,” she confirmed. “I’m his secretary.”
“How delightful,” he said, grinning at her, and she smiled back, her cheeks coloring further beneath the power of that smile. He leaned his hip against the edge of her desk. “Do you enjoy your work?”
Georgie, who at this point thought the best course of action was to draw as little attention to herself as possible and allow Sebastian to get on with it, shrank back toward the armchairs, watching this forceful display of charm the way she might have observed animal behavior at a zoo.
“I do,” Miss Lettercross said, smiling coyly up at Sebastian. “You meet such… interesting people.”
“I’m so glad to hear it,” he said, his smile—if possible—widening. “I myself am just visiting from London, and I’ve begun to hear the most alarming tales of, well”—he dropped his voice dramatically—“murderin Buncombe-upon-Woolly.” He shook his head regretfully.
“Oh, they’re not just tales,” Miss Lettercross said, leaningforward now, a bit breathless. “There have beenfour murders in the past year.It’s very shocking.” She shook her head. “I have been following them all, and—well—” She flicked a glance at Georgie, who promptly made a great show of looking around the room, as if she were not listening to a word being uttered. “—Miss Radcliffe has helped the police solve some of them, you know.”
Georgie stilled briefly; she supposed it was unsurprising that word of her exploits would have traveled the scant miles between the two villages, particularly given the existence ofThe Deathly Dispatch.
“But,” Miss Lettercross continued, “it’s only a matter of time until…” She trailed off in theatrical fashion; Georgie thought that Abigail would have approved of this performance.
“Until?” Sebastian prompted.
“Until a killer strikes again,” Miss Lettercross said, her tone ominous. Sebastian allowed a second or two of appropriately impressed silence and then wrinkled his brow slightly.
