Murder at the Seaside Hotel by Sonia Parin

Author:Sonia Parin [Parin, Sonia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-28T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“Country clubs,” Evie mused as they made their way to Findon.

“Pardon? I missed that.”

“I’m not surprised. Your attention is on the road, as it should be.” Leaning in, Evie said, “There are no country clubs here. At least, none that I can think of. Back home, they seem to be everywhere. And, now that I think about it, I have already discussed this. So much for trying to keep myself entertained while the scenery whizzes by me.”

“I believe you had actually talked about resort towns.”

“Oh, yes. You’re right.”

“Do you want a country club?”

“No. I only noticed the absence of them.”

“Instead of country clubs, you have other people’s private estates to visit.”

Evie laughed. “Are you mocking our way of life?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it and I don’t really have a reason to. If I wanted to mock you, I would comment on the amount of luggage you insist on taking with you, but I’ve only ever seen you traveling light.”

“That’s because we haven’t been up north yet. I should plan a trip for the shooting season.”

“What should I look forward to seeing?”

“An entourage.” Evie laughed. “But nothing compared to what we would do back home. Caro would be mortified… Well, surprised, by the extravagance of what we refer to as a camping trip. When the J.P. Morgans of the world go camping, they take their entire household to the wilderness. I heard say a real estate millionaire from Brooklyn fenced off 8,600 acres and built a château and called it his camping ground. Granny told me in her last missive, Marjorie Meriweather Post set up the ultimate camping ground, with sixty-eight buildings and a staff of eighty plus. She had her guests ferried in by yachts and her own train.”

Tom changed gears and slowed down.

During most of the drive to Findon, they had both been silent. Evie assumed Tom had been mulling over what they had learned.

Earlier, when they had returned to the hotel, Evie had rushed upstairs to change clothes, leaving Tom to talk with the concierge.

What he had discovered had left them both speechless.

On the day May Fields had died, Mr. Prentiss had talked with the concierge before leaving for lunch. He had specifically asked the time because, according to him, his watch had been running slow.

Either the man was fixated with time or he had made a deliberate effort to place himself in a specific place at a specific time. Not once, but twice.

Evie straightened her hat and said, “Since you’re not going to say it, I will. Mr. Prentiss is guilty of something. I’m just not sure what he might have done.”

“Killed the maid, of course.” Tom brought the roadster to a stop just outside the village.

“If he killed the maid, he must be confident no one will find out. Otherwise, he would have made his getaway. Heavens, he has even remained in the same room. In his place, I would have either returned home or requested another room.”

Tom gave her his hand and she stepped out of the roadster.

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