Lady Rample and the Silver Screen by Shéa MacLeod

Author:Shéa MacLeod
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: British detective, humorous mystery, female protagonist, amateur sleuth, whodunnit, murder mystery
Publisher: Sunwalker Press
Published: 2018-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

THE REST OF THE DAY I felt rather at loose ends. I wanted to question Lola, but she hadn’t returned from the studio. Aunt Butty stayed in bed, claiming a headache. Based on the fact that she’d just lost an old friend, a bottle of very good scotch was missing from the liquor cabinet, and I knew she’d picked up three new books during our shopping trip, it was more likely she was using that as an excuse to stay in bed all day. As for the chauffeur and the butler, they’d given me all they could—or would—for the moment.

There was the cleaning woman, but she hadn’t been to the house either Sunday or Saturday, and according to Carter, Lola had ordered him to tell the woman not to come today. So I wouldn’t be able to talk to her until tomorrow at the latest. Mrs. Mendez, the woman who came to cook, had also been out from noon Saturday until this morning. And by the time I’d gotten up, she’d already been gone, having put together a few bits and pieces so Carter could make up meals the rest of the week. Which meant she was out for questioning.

Detective Aarons had ordered Aunt Butty and me to stay close. Though he’d not quite gone so far as to order us not to leave town. He’d claimed he might have further questions, but I wasn’t holding my breath. He’d seemed pretty convinced it was murder. Which struck me as dashed odd based on the evidence at hand. Or rather, the strangeness of the evidence pointing to suicide.

I could go through Cyril’s study. Men kept things in their studies they didn’t want wives finding out about. Maybe he had a diary. A calendar. Something.

Fortunately for me, Cyril left his office door unlocked. The room was dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. It was warm and a little musty, but I snapped on the light and strode to the desk.

There was one long drawer, very shallow. It had no lock, so I pulled it open, and it slid out surprisingly easily. Inside, neatly arranged in precise little rows, were pencils, pens, a bowl of paperclips, and other accoutrements one would expect. In addition, there was a black leather-covered notebook with the year stamped on the front: 1932. I took it out and laid it on the desk, sliding the drawer shut.

Carefully opening the cover, I realized that this was not a notebook or journal. This was a weekly planner of sorts. Each page had a date along the top and hours marching in a column down the left-hand side. Here and there in loopy blue ink were notations for various appointments.

I flipped to the date Aunt Butty and I had arrived. Sure enough, along the top of the page was the notation, "Butty and Lady R arrive."

A notation for the following evening was simply "party." And on the day of his wedding to Lola was the notation "city hall."

"Now that's interesting," I murmured.

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