A Most Efficient Murder by Anthony Slayton

Author:Anthony Slayton
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Ink and Dagger Press

25

HIS LORDSHIP & MR. QUAYLE CONFER

While he waited, doing his best to ignore the raised voices coming from the drawing room, Mr. Quayle took a moment out on the veranda to gather himself. The sunset and the evening breeze made a welcome distraction from the churn of his thoughts.

The day had been full of revelations, none of them welcome. A few days ago, the central problem before him had been the great unknowns—who was the murdered woman in the garden, and why had she come here?

Assuming he could take Fanny’s confession at face value—an assumption that Mr. Quayle was by no means prepared to make—those questions had now been answered. But in their place, new and far more dangerous questions had emerged, a wealth of possibilities and motives that all seemed to revolve around the Unsworth family.

Mr. Quayle had known that someone in the family was involved ever since the Nettles had shown him the garden door, but this—a secret cousin and heir to a long-lost fortune in diamonds—this was far worse than he could ever have imagined.

A sudden silence caught his attention—the voices had stopped.

Mr. Quayle headed over to the window and gazed down on the gardens and grounds below. He did like it here. He felt at home in some strange way. It would be a shame if he had to leave all this.

Especially now.

A strange shuffling noise made him turn. Major Eatwell was limping stiffly towards him, dragging his left foot slightly.

Mr. Quayle tilted his head, listening. He could still make out the unmistakable tones of Lady Constance ringing through the house.

“So, you’ve been exiled as well, then,” he said once the Major had joined him.

“Lady Constance made it quite clear that this discussion was for family only.” Major Eatwell shrugged. “And I’m not family.”

“Not yet,” Mr. Quayle said, offering the Major a cigarette.

“Thank you.” The Major reached over with a grimace. “And while I appreciate the thought, I doubt it’ll happen now, not if Lord Unsworth has any say in the matter.” Major Eatwell smiled humorlessly. “His Lordship was much less quick to defend my presence than he was yours.”

“Yes, but I have the advantage of not romancing his niece.”

“There is that, I suppose.”

Major Eatwell sighed irritably, and Mr. Quayle took the opportunity to study the man properly. They had never really had the chance to talk before, although Quayle had heard a great deal about him from both Fanny and Lord Unsworth.

The Major was a war hero, on that society was agreed, and he certainly looked the part—the very picture of solid dependability. Even standing at ease, Eatwell’s back remained ramrod-straight. And yet, Mr. Quayle could not help but notice that the Major’s evening suit, although of fine and expensive make, was a trifle threadbare around the edges. Someone with an experienced hand had patched and repaired it more than once. And it was the same suit he had worn every evening for the duration of his stay. Perhaps, the man’s only suit.

“Tell me, Major, what did you make of Miss Juliette Evans?”

Major Eatwell’s glance was shrewd and knowing.

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