Free Murder Most Malicious by Alyssa Maxwell Page B

Douglas raised his chin. “Yes, sir. Quite clear, Mr. Giles, sir.”
    Footsteps sounded in the stairwell. Everyone around the table, Eva included, tensed, sat up straighter, and craned their necks to see who was coming. A moment later, Constable Brannock entered the hall. He scanned the room, his gaze falling on each of them in turn. Eva’s pulse quickened when his regard lingered on her longer than the rest.
    He pointed. “Mr. Vernon.”
    Another crimson wave swept over Vernon’s fair complexion. “M-me, sir?”
    Brannock nodded and pointed again. “And you, Mr. Hensley. You both need to come with me.”
    Eva gasped, and it was all she could do to keep from jumping up in protest. The others stared with saucer-like eyes as Nick quietly came to his feet, but before he stepped away from the table, Mr. Giles stood. “Not to interfere in police business, but Vernon is under my direct supervision, as is Mr. Hensley while he is here in this house. Will you please explain the nature of this summons?”
    â€œInspector Perkins has further questions for these two men,” Brannock said, looking almost bored and giving away nothing in his manner.
    â€œWas something found during the search?” Mr. Giles moved to stand behind Vernon’s chair, his hand coming to rest on the young man’s broad shoulder. “Was the murder weapon discovered?”
    â€œDid you find my cleaver?” Mrs. Ellison squeaked.
    â€œGood heavens, did you find Lord Allerton?” Mrs. Sanders laced her fingers together as if in prayer.
    â€œI cannot discuss anything at present. All I can say is the rest of you are to remain here. We might have more questions for some of you.” He regarded first Nick and then Vernon with an expression approaching pity, or so Eva thought. She liked this man less and less with each passing moment. “Gentlemen, please follow me.”
    Vernon stood up shakily from the table and looked so much like a lost child Eva wished to offer him a reassuring hug. She remained where she was, hearing other footsteps and then two sets of murmurs from the corridor. Constable Brannock led Nick and Vernon out as Harlan Phelps and Fiona Shea entered the hall.
    Around the table, a barrage of questions drowned out even Dora’s clashing of pots and pans.
    Mr. Giles held up his hands. “Silence, all of you. That’s better. Now, Mr. Phelps, what can you tell us?”
    The man, tall and thin with a full head of silver hair neatly slicked back from his brow, shook his head. “Officially, we can tell you nothing.” He cupped his palm behind his ear and raised his head to listen to the retreating footsteps on the stairs. “But unofficially . . .”
    â€œDid they find Mrs. Ellison’s cleaver?” Douglas demanded.
    Miss Shea and Mr. Phelps exchanged a glance and a nod, and Mr. Phelps said, “Indeed they did.”
    â€œWhere?” Several voices spoke at once.
    Her dark hair parted in the middle and pulled back into a severe bun, Miss Shea puffed up with self-importance, as the lady’s maids of countesses were apt to do. “I don’t know if we should say. Inspector Perkins might disapprove.”
    â€œHang Inspector Perkins.” Douglas drummed a fist on the table. “Tell us what you know.”
    â€œDouglas, a modicum of patience, if you will,” Mr. Giles counseled. “I’m sure the inspector has his reasons for being reticent on the matter. However, we all have our reasons for wanting to know the truth. Vernon is a valuable member of this staff, and a decent bloke all around. I don’t believe there is a one of us here who has ever had a gripe against George Vernon.” He aimed a significant glare at Douglas, who could not always make the same claim. “And as for Nicholas Hensley, why, the senior staff such as Mrs. Sanders, Mrs. Ellison, and myself remember when he worked here, before Lord Allerton took