Page 86 of Murder at the Polo Club

“I think their relationship started before Rigg-Lyon died. Or perhaps soon afterward. Either way, I don’t think he’s the murderer. I don’t think he played a part at all.” I lowered my voice, even though we were alone. “Shekilled Rigg-Lyon.”

Harmony gasped. “She used his automobile to transport her from the theater to the Elms and back again!” She frowned and shook her head. “That can’t be right.Youborrowed his automobile that day.”

“That’s why we never considered that vehicle. But while we enjoyed our picnic and the polo, it was available for a few hours. I think the driver returned to London and collected Rosa from the Royal Albert Hall after her fitting, then sped to the Elms. By then, the match was over, or almost over. She waited for the initial flurry of activity at the stables to be completed then lured Rigg-Lyon to the stables by tying her ribbon somewhere visible. It’s her signal to her lovers, to show where she is and that she’s available.”

“A nice touch, and discreet too.”

“Then she murdered him and departed in a cab. She couldn’t have gone back to London in Dunmere’s automobile because we needed it. It had broken down and we were waiting for the mechanic to fix it when we heard Mr. Broadman’s shout upon discovering the body. The reason it broke down in the first place is because the engine overheated when the mechanic sped back to the Elms with Rosa in the passenger seat. It needed time to cool down before it would work again.”

“Is the driver guilty, too?”

I hesitated, thinking it through. Finally, I shook my head. “I don’t think so, but I do think he holds the key to solving this. We need to speak to him.”

While Harmony took her cleaning cart back to the basement storeroom, I asked the clerk at the front desk who was paying for room 221. His answer confirmed my suspicion—Lord Dunmere. He was currently paying for two rooms, one for himself where he could come and go at will, and room 221 which he’d paid in advance for two nights.

I rejoined Harmony in the service corridor and we left the hotel via the exit near the kitchen. It was no longer raining, but puddles had formed on the road and a rivulet trickled in the gutter. We dodged the water and mud, and were careful to hide our faces as we passed the hotel’s front door on the way to the mews.

There was a risk that Lord Dunmere was using his automobile, but we found the mechanic in the stables, asleep in the front seat, his feet on the dashboard, ankles and arms crossed. He was alone, aside from the horses. The stables and adjoining coach house were otherwise empty, with Cobbit and the rest of the staff on strike.

I cleared my throat. “Excuse me. May we have a word?”

The mechanic’s eyes flew open and he quickly got out of the automobile. “My apologies, Miss Fox. I didn’t see you there. I was busy inspecting the, um…”

“Backs of your eyelids?” I smiled to put him at ease. “This is Miss Cotton. Do you mind if we ask you some questions?”

“Are you still investigating the murder? I thought you might have given up.”

“We’re still investigating.”

“Right you are. How may I help?”

“Do you recall the day of the murder, when you had to fix the automobile before you could drive us home?”

He removed his cap and scratched the side of his head. “I remember. The engine overheated.”

“Why did it overheat?”

“It does that sometimes, if it’s a warm day and it’s been on a long drive. The water needed to keep it cool dries up.” He jerked his thumb at the rear of the vehicle, where the engine was housed under the back seat. “Do you want me to show you?”

“It’s all right. I wouldn’t know what I was looking at.”

He shrugged. “Once it cooled down, it was fine.”

“Why had it overheated? It was some hours since you’d driven us to the Elms. Did you go somewhere else?”

“Aye. I had to collect a passenger in London and take her to the Elms. His lordship asked me to drive his, er, friend to the polo. She had to deliver something.”

“Do you know her name?”

“Miss Rivera. She’s a singer. I collected her from the Royal Albert Hall.”

“Do you know what she was delivering to the Elms?”

He shook his head. “She didn’t say. We didn’t talk much. You know what it’s like, with the wind whipping past your ears. It’s real hard to have a conversation. All I know is, she carried a bag with her but when I saw her again later, it looked empty.”

“You saw her again as she was leaving?”

“She caught a cab.” He frowned. “Why all these questions about Miss Rivera? What’s she got to do with the murder?”

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