Page 46 of Lies in Little Sutherland
“And how.”
“—and he also likes you specifically.”
“None of which has anything to do with whether I would have anything to do with him.But I take your point, Christopher.So Constable Daniels was still on about that, then, Francis?”
“Seemed to be,” Francis said, maneuvering the Crossley up the lane towards the Hall.“I can’t wait until Uncle Harold has to field questions about it.”
He sniggered.
I rolled my eyes.“Oh, joy.Nor can I.”
ChapterEleven
We didn’t haveto wait long.Francis and his sense of humor wasn’t about to let this chance go by.We were barely inside the foyer—Tidwell was still in the process of shutting the front door behind us—when Crispin skidded onto the marble floor.He was followed a few seconds later by his fiancée and his father, in a much more leisurely fashion.
By the time they arrived, Crispin had assured himself that I was there, and in one piece.Christopher was the first person he looked at, but only for as long as it took to ask, “Is everything all right?”before he turned his attention to me.And while I usually can’t tell from his face that he has romantic feelings for me, in this case his expression was unguarded for at least half a second before the blinds slammed down.
“Fine,” I told him.“Nothing to worry about.Just a few questions.”
“Why you?”
I hesitated.Did I tell him about the note, or wait until we had more privacy?If that was even possible, with Laetitia dogging his heels like a faithful Retriever.
“It wasn’t just Pippa,” Christopher said.“The constable spoke to me and Francis, as well.”
Crispin shifted his attention to Francis.“Why you?And why not Connie?”
“It wasn’t about Morrison,” I said.“As it turns out, there was a murder in the village this morning, while Christopher and I were there.”
Behind Crispin, Laetitia gasped and clutched her hands to her breast.If she had killed Doctor Meadows—and I had no reason to think she had done; I simply like to imagine her guilty of various offenses—it was a convincing presentation of innocence.
“Who’s dead?”His Grace wanted to know.
“Doctor Meadows,” Christopher told him.“Sometime between the time Pippa and I left the infirmary, and when luncheon was served.”
There was a moment of silence.Then?—
“Dreadful,” Uncle Harold said.“And the constable wanted to speak to you because…?”
“He wanted to make certain that Doctor was alive and well when we left him,” Christopher said, “which he was, of course.We would have said something about it had he not been.And then he wanted to know whether we had noticed anything out of the ordinary.Anyone skulking around or behaving suspiciously or whatnot.”
“And had you done?”
Uncle Harold looked from him to me and back with penetrating blue eyes.The chandelier gilded his grayish hair almost back to its youthful buttery blond.
“Not in the least,” I said cheerfully.“The street outside was as empty when we left as it had been when we arrived.We were only inside the infirmary for a few minutes, and all of Little Sutherland seemed content to stay inside this morning.It’s the weather, I suppose.”
“And that was all?”Crispin asked, a trace of worry still in his tone.“It seemed rather more pointed than that when Daniels manhandled you out of the dining room.”
“That was all, truly.I’m afraid we’ll have to impose on your hospitality for a few days longer.Constable Daniels wants us to keep ourselves available for the inquest.”
“We were the last people to see him alive, it seems,” Christopher added.“Aside from the murderer, of course.”
Crispin nodded.“Of course.I’ll let Mrs.Mason know that you’ll be staying.”
“That’s all right,” I said.“I’d be happy to do so.”It would give me an opportunity to ask the housekeeper about the stationery in the bedrooms.
Tidwell cleared his throat.“With your permission, Your Grace?—”
