Page 9 of Murder at the Polo Club

“Seven. Mr. Rigg-Lyon wasn’t there.”

I glanced towards the back of the stables. “Even so, seeing to the needs of all seven must keep you busy.”

“It does, miss.”

“So you fetch towels, prepare their clothes and help them dress. Anything else?”

“I collect their uniforms while they shower and take them to the laundry.”

“Is the laundry attached to the changing room?”

“No, miss, it’s on the other side of the courtyard.”

I suspected the door to the changing room wouldn’t be visible from the laundry. He wouldn’t notice anyone leave then return a few minutes later, covered in blood.

I thanked him and rejoined Flossy and Floyd, waiting patiently for me.

“Any idea who did it yet?” Floyd asked as we walked.

“She’s not investigating,” Flossy said. “She doesn’t have time. We have a full week of social engagements coming up.”

Floyd snorted. “You underestimate our cousin.”

I glanced over my shoulder towards the stables where the major stood in the doorway, guarding it. He wouldn’t let me back inside now, even if I begged. As frustrating as it was to leave, I had no reason to stay. No one had hired me to investigate. With a sigh, I continued to the automobile.

The mechanic sat in the driver’s seat with the engine purring nicely. “Hop in, folks. I’ll have you back at the hotel in no time.”

Floyd held out his hand to assist me up to the back seat. His fingers closed tightly around mine to get my attention. “At least this investigation will have nothing to do with Armitage. I know Father allowed you to investigate together, but I think if he’d known how often you were in Armitage’s company, he wouldn’t have allowed it in the first place. I still can’t believe he did, considering—” He cut himself off.

“Considering what?”

“Considering how well you get along.”

I tried to tug my hand away, but he held on.

“Don’t push your luck, Cleo.”

“You seem to think I’m going to try to solve the murder.”

“Aren’t you?”

I was about to tell him that his concerns were unfounded. Even if I did investigate, there was no reason to involve Harry. But a carriage pulled to a stop alongside us before I could respond. Three uniformed policemen spilled out of the cabin, followed by a detective in plain clothes. They paid us no mind, not even bothering to ask us for our names and a statement. Harry’s father, a former Scotland Yard detective, would never have been so lax.

Frank stifleda cough as the automobile drove off, leaving a trail of fumes in its wake. A shake of his fist would not have been out of place when accompanied with the glare he gave it, but he kept a professional composure and changed the glare to a welcoming smile.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bainbridge, Miss Fox, Mr. Bainbridge. How was the polo?”

“The captain of one of the teams died,” I said.

“Bloody hell.” Realizing he was still on duty and my cousins were within earshot, he quickly apologized for his language. “Did he fall off his horse?”

“He was murdered with his own mallet in the stables.”

“Murdered!”

Flossy flapped her fan in front of her face. “I’m going upstairs to lie down. It’s been a tiring day. Cleo, are you coming?”

“Soon,” I said.

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