Free A Mourning Wedding by Carola Dunn Page A

excelled, and his fast, accurate shorthand was the reason he’d been put on the ’phone to take down the names of those staying at Haverhill.
    He looked at his watch. “Right-oh, there’s just time for Tom and me to catch the next train if we hurry, so we’ll leave you to it. You know what we want.”
    â€œAnything recent on anyone on the list …”
    â€œSix months, say.”
    â€œThat looks like they might kill to keep it quiet.”
    â€œYes, not the births, marriages and deaths, obviously.”
    â€œShouldn’t be too hard if her system’s as simple as it looks.”
    â€œGood. Do a quick check around the house for anything else of interest, then come and join us. I gathered from the CC that the local inspector isn’t too happy about our being called in. If he won’t cooperate, we’ll have our work cut out for us.”
    On his way down to find Tom and the housekeeper, Alec contemplated with foreboding the investigation before him. An uncooperative local man would be merely an extra fly in the ointment. The aristocracy were always awkward to deal with, regarding the most innocuous questions as impertinence and expecting deference even as one delved into their sordid secrets. This time there was the added complication that in another few days he would have been the earl’s
guest. He wondered whether Lord Haverhill had asked for him, rather than for any DCI the Met chose to send, because he expected special treatment.
    And then there was Daisy.
    Reaching the kitchen, where he found Tom Tring enjoying a cup of tea and a piece of pie, Alec gladly postponed consideration of Daisy’s place in the scheme of things.

6
    W hen Daisy emerged from the library, a dozen people were lurking in the hall. They converged on her, all talking at once. Everyone knew that Alec was coming and everyone knew that Daisy had talked to the local police and everyone wanted to talk to her.
    Lord and Lady Carleton reached her first. Daisy had been introduced to them but she had never exchanged more than a few words with them and she had no idea where they came on the family tree.
    Lady Carleton clasped Daisy’s hand as if she were a long-lost friend. “Mrs. Fletcher, tell me they don’t really believe Aunt Eva’s death was murder! Some sort of horrible accident, I’m sure.”
    â€œI’m afraid not. There seems to be no question of anything but murder.” Even as she spoke, Daisy regretted it. She should have denied any inside knowledge and referred them to Inspector Crummle. Now all those crowding around would expect her to answer their questions.
    â€œThey won’t make us stay, will they?” Lady Carleton asked anxiously. “Denzil says we won’t be let go till they’ve arrested someone.”
    â€œIt must be one of us, must it not, Mrs. Fletcher?” That was Henry Fotheringay. The effect of his words was to make people glance around and move slightly apart from each other.

    â€œThat’s for the police to decide.”
    â€œBut those of us who obviously didn’t do it,” Lady Carleton persisted, “they’ll let us leave, won’t they? Ursula is terribly sensitive, just a child still. I’ve sent her to the nursery but it’s not at all good for her to stay in a house with such an unpleasant atmosphere.”
    â€œPoor little Ursula,” Erica said sarcastically. “I can’t imagine why Lucy invited such a child to be a bridesmaid.”
    â€œI can’t think why she asked you, Erica,” said another bridesmaid.
    â€œYou’re only a second cousin,” her sister seconded her, “and you’re getting married next month yourself.”
    â€œThat’s enough, Alice, Mary!” snapped Mrs. Henry. “This is not the time or place for childish squabbles. You’re not too old to be sent to the nursery yourselves.”
    â€œI was getting married next month. My