Free Murder In The Motor Stable: (Auguste Didier Mystery 9) by Amy Myers Page B

plunged once more back into the nebulous unease. Usually he could pinpoint the cause of disquiet; on this occasion he could not.
    ‘I’ve spoken to Fred and Leo,’ Tatiana told him. ‘They’ll watch night and day between them. Roderick Smythe insists on taking part too. He was at the stable when I arrived, already covering up the skylight with rubber sheeting and checking the bars.’
    ‘How did he hear of it?’
    ‘That’s the worst of it. Hester Hart had a letter too; she promptly threw a fit of high dudgeon and her trusty squire was at her side offering her his trusty sword. Not that that lady needs anyone’s trusty sword but her own. She’s got morestamina than a camel, and nothing is going to come between Hester Hart and her driving that car on Thursday.’
    ‘Who do you think sent the letters, Tatiana?’
    ‘I’ve no idea. I can’t imagine Hortensia or Thomas Bailey doing such a thing, fanatical though he is.’
    ‘Didn’t you tell me he was working on a new car of his own?’
    ‘Yes. But so is half of England. And Thomas is not driving on Thursday, so why should he get so upset about another car doing so? Anyway, even if he succeeded in putting it out of action, Harold could build another.’
    ‘He was concerned enough to snoop round the stable.’
    ‘Professional curiosity. I think it’s more likely to be a Ham.’
    ‘Perhaps not. The club has not been a happy place since Hester came. We thought it was because of her but now it seems the problem is both Hester Hart
and
the Dolly Dobbs.’
    There was a silence, as the same thought occurred to both of them.
    ‘Agatha couldn’t possibly be responsible,’ Tatiana burst out. ‘She’s a—’ She broke off, appalled. ‘Oh, Auguste, I was going to say “a duchess”! How
could
I? Duchesses have the same passions as everyone else.’
    ‘Perhaps, but you are right in that duchesses would need to feel their position very thoroughly threatened before risking their reputations by such childish threats. Being deprived of driving a motorcar hardly seems to qualify.’
    ‘But those memoirs Hester threatens to write. Suppose, just suppose, the Duchess features in them and her reputation
is
threatened?’
    ‘Then why bother to threaten Harold as well?’
    ‘To hide the real reason.’
    Auguste wasn’t happy with this. ‘No, Harold must be involved somehow, for it is still a mystery as to why he let Hester Hart oust Agatha,
and
why he wouldn’t let the car appear last week.’
    ‘Harold is so vague, he may just have changed his mind because Hester let loose her battery of charm on him.’
    ‘He wasn’t vague when he heard Thomas Bailey had been prowling around,’ Auguste observed.
    Tatiana sighed. ‘Do you remember the excitement you felt over the banquet you prepared for Monsieur Escoffier’s birthday, and the
pièce montée
of Gwynne’s Hotel you felt impelled to prepare for Madame Emma Pryde?’ Auguste blushed. ‘And the very special ball supper for Kalinkova? And—’
    ‘There is no need to continue, my love. Of course I remember.’
    ‘The same passions are aroused by motorcars, as I have often tried to explain. They are more than mere conveyances; they are creations of man’s imagination and free artistic spirit, a testament to man’s achievement.’
    ‘Hortensia and her supporters don’t see it that way,’ Auguste muttered.
    ‘Whenever fanatical devotion is involved, you will find it counterbalanced by its opposite. In Hortensia’s case, her devotion to horses leads to excessive hatred of motors.’
    ‘Or of Hester, if she has heard the rumours about her husband.’
    Maud Bullinger was accustomed to taking risks, especially ones that had been carefully planned. Every time she stepped into a racing car the same thrill swept over her. She had it now. She buttoned her gloves and sallied forth. Herphilosophy of life, had she ever entered her own kitchen, would be that omelettes required the breaking of eggs. She’d averted