Murder at the Royal Palace: An addictive and totally gripping historical murder mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 23) by Verity Bright

Author:Verity Bright [Bright, Verity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2025-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

21

Back at the prep room, Clifford’s picklocks worked their magic. They slipped in and closed the door behind them, Clifford hanging his hat over the keyhole. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of meat and…

Blood, Ellie!

Risking a cautious sweep around the walls with the torch, she let out a long breath. ‘Definitely no windows. Excellent.’

She jumped as the space flooded with a pale light as Clifford flicked on the switch. He turned the lock on the inside. ‘If I might still propose speed is of the essence, my lady?’

‘Of course.’ She scanned the room. ‘It shouldn’t take long. There’s not much here, by the looks of it. Just a sink, table, selection of knives and a rack of drying cloths. Oh, and two metal biscuit tins marked’ – she peered closer – ‘ah, “biscuits”.’

‘Yet search we will. But for quite what…?’ Clifford tailed off.

‘I wish I knew, too,’ she said fervently. ‘And is it even still here after that mystery figure’s visit? But if we do find anything helpful, we’ll have Polly to thank for giving me the idea.’

He arched a mystified brow. ‘Our well-intentioned, but still distressingly clumsy and tearsome Polly?’

‘Who has been growing into a confident young woman before my eyes, yes. Case in point being, it was when she asked at our meeting earlier if there was anything Dilly hadn’t given up. We were all thinking about food and drink. But what he hadn’t given up was fulfilling his Ravenmaster duties right to the bitter end. So, he must have come in here every day.’ With a grimace, she pointed at a large tin dish filled with raw meat, which included several chicken heads. All of it swimming in blood. ‘But how he stomached it when he felt so rotten, I can’t imagine.’

‘Quite. How aptly Edgar Allan Poe’s words from his poem “The Raven” strike again. “It was night, and the rain fell; and falling, it was rain, but, having fallen, it was blood.”’

‘And you sniff at the penny dreadfuls I occasionally indulge in!’

She stepped across the stone floor to the ceramic sink, which had at least been plumbed with running water given there was a tap operated by a foot pump below. A short length of hosepipe was attached to the tap’s end. Perhaps to better direct the water when washing the three cutting boards stacked on the draining area. A pair of rubber gloves was thrown over one board to dry.

She stepped forward to peer closer at the meat, but bumped her knee on an iron handle. Bending, she turned it to reveal what looked like a small cold store recessed into the stone.

‘Gracious, the temperature difference is unmissable. It feels just like Mrs Trotman’s cold larder in the cellar at home.’

‘Not surprising, my lady. Given the thickness of the stone of the foundations. This space is built within the inner curtain wall, after all.’

She closed the door and bobbed back up. ‘But then why is the meat left out in this tin dish here? And this one too, that seems to contain biscuits soaking in blood.

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