Murders at the Manor by Milo James Fowler

Author:Milo James Fowler [Fowler, Milo James]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2023-05-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Untimely Betrayal

"I know you're in there—I can hear you breathing," Auguste said, his voice very close to the wall. "Is that you, Broekstein? Come to silence me, once and for all?"

"He really doesn't like you," Templeton whispered.

"John as well, is it?" Auguste cursed in French. "Stop whispering like a child playing hide-and-go-seek, and face me like a man!"

Templeton sighed. "Probably best to include him in this."

Before I had a chance to argue to the contrary, he had already turned to press both his hands against the wall. With a sharp click, the secret door to Auguste's room creaked open, and the Frenchman cried out in dismay.

"Quiet down," Templeton said as he stepped into the room with me on his heels. "You'll scare the police."

"You're filthy, both of you." Auguste wrinkled his lip as he looked us up and down. "What the devil were you doing in there?" He peered past us at the dark doorway in the bookshelf, identical to the one in my room. "Some sort of secret passage?"

"Exactly that," I said. "Designed to spy on guests, I suspect."

"How depraved!" Auguste shook his head. "I never would have pegged Charles as the sort. What's the word for it? A voyeur?"

"His grandfather might've been the pervert in the family." Templeton jerked his head toward the hidden passage. "We're going to take a look at the will. You're welcome to join us—if you keep it down." He gestured with both hands to lower the volume.

Auguste's sharp eyes twitched from Templeton to me. "Why should I trust either one of you?" he said. "The fact that you know about this passageway is proof enough for me that you've been in league from the start! Sneaking about the house, killing willy-nilly. I should call for the policeman. Perhaps I shall!"

Templeton cursed under his breath. "Look at us." He gestured at our dusty attire. "Do you really think someone could crawl between the walls without anybody noticing?"

Auguste shrugged. "A simple matter of changing into a spare suit. A criminal mastermind would have everything in order, of course."

"You know what? Fine. Stay here." Templeton turned back toward the secret door and jerked his head for me to follow. "I'm showing Broekstein the will."

I had a better idea. "You go ahead." I knew myself well enough. There was very little chance of me making it through those tight quarters to Charles's room without suffering a psychotic break along the way. "I will wait here, if that is alright with our friend Auguste."

The Frenchman grumbled under his breath in his native tongue and crossed his arms, scowling at me.

"Thought you wanted to see it." Templeton frowned.

"The will? Of course I do—"

"I'm not taking it out of his room. No chance. The cops find out I did something like that—tampering with evidence and whatnot—they'll slap cuffs on me straightaway."

"Why wait?" Auguste stepped toward the door to the hallway. "We can take care of that right now."

"You're in it," Templeton said, and the Frenchman froze in place. "Both of you.

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