Trouble on a Country Lane: A 1920s Historical Mystery in the English Countryside by Isabella Bassett

Author:Isabella Bassett [Bassett, Isabella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

The afternoon passed in a blur. Poppy brought me up to date on the latest developments at the house.

Indeed, matters were not looking good for the actress. As I’d overheard in the garden, the police had discovered Ruby’s brooch in the dead man’s room at the village inn, and they had learned about her meeting with him at the pub.

The only new piece of information I acquired from Poppy was that the dead man’s name was Lance Bradford.

I wondered why, with so much incriminating evidence against her scattered around the immediate locale, Ruby would then proceed to murder the journalist. Surely she knew that the police would learn about her meeting with this Lance Bradford and the brooch. If she were the killer, what had driven her to such desperation?

For no more than a few moments, I also mused whether James could be involved in this whole sordid affair. But I quickly disposed of such traitorous thoughts and decided that he had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Though the note he had picked up still troubled me.

I spared a thought for the mysterious American women loitering in the woods as well. But as no one at Resington Hall, besides the vicar and myself, seemed to be aware of their existence, and as I could not fit them comfortably in my theory—were they blackmailers as well?—I quickly dismissed them.

As the day progressed, however, I resolved that the incident by the country lane, though gripping, seemed to be a matter between Lance Bradford and the actress, and as the police appeared to be doing a remarkable job identifying clues and motives, it was of no concern to me.

A somber mood weighed heavily over dinner. The atmosphere was enlivened only by frequent accusatory glances darting across the table. While I avoided looking at James and Daphne, who was sitting by his side, I harbored a morbid curiosity regarding Ruby, and noticed her slinging murderous looks at Daphne, who in turn evaded her stares. And though the exchange of glances was riveting, little was said. Everyone ate in silence, and the murder of the journalist was not discussed.

The only thing that made dinner bearable was the thought that someone other than James was likely responsible for the death of the journalist.

Ruby had proceeded to drink too much again, and talked about true friendship, which made everyone visibly uncomfortable, and she was soon dispatched to bed.

Having observed Ruby during dinner, I was convinced that there was a secret hidden among the Americans. My heart went out to Ruby—what foolish thing had she done to get herself in this mess? But I also hoped that the journalist’s killer would soon be arrested, and we could all go home.

I longed to leave Resington Hall behind, and abandon James and the Haswells to their fate. Though, truth be told, I could not quiet the suspicion that James had somehow gotten himself mixed up in something unseemly.

But alas, I could not go home quite yet.

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