Murder at Blackwater Bend by Clara McKenna

Author:Clara McKenna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Lyndy, leaning in toward her, whispered as an eerie hush descended around them.

She and Lyndy stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the black crape tied with a white ribbon fluttering on the door. White clouds, like freshly picked cotton, silently floated by in the reflection of the darkened windows. There was no bird trill, no distant snort of a pony, no rustling treetops, only the flutter of the ribbon and the sound of her own exhaling. This was a house in mourning.

Stella tried to shallow away the sour taste in her mouth.

Lady Philippa wouldn’t thank them for the intrusion, and if Stella was honest with herself, after everything Lyndy had told her, she dreaded confronting the widow again. But if the dagger she’d found did belong to Lord Fairbrother, it could be the murder weapon and the police would need to know. Stella needed to know.

Unwilling to break the silence, Stella nodded. But before Lyndy raised his fist to knock, Aunt Rachel’s hoarse voice jarred the quiet like a silver tray clattering to the floor.

“Oh, my lands, girlie,” she shouted.

Lyndy quietly chuckled as Stella cast her eyes back toward the Daimler parked in the shade of the woods encroaching the edge of Outwick House’s circular gravel drive. Bundled up in a tan duster coat, goggles, and yards and yards of white veiling, Aunt Rachel, unrecognizable but for her wizened mouth and chin, rested in the backseat of the car. Stella had dutifully brought the old lady along. The old lady had prudently declined to accompany them inside. But that hadn’t stayed her tongue.

“Are you fixing to go in or just stand there until you grow roots and crow’s nests on your hat?” The older woman shooed Stella toward the door.

“We might as well get this over with,” Stella said, and self-consciously tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. She slipped her arm through Lyndy’s (they were in this together, after all, weren’t they?) and faced the imposing ten-foot-tall double-sided oak door again. She nodded for Lyndy to knock. He lifted the brass ring, fitted through the teeth of an ornate lion’s head, and rapped it once.

Hodgson opened the door. Having spent two months living under the watchful eyes of Fulton and Tims, Stella knew the subtle look of disapproval on the butler’s face. Not to mention the skyward pointing of his nose. Visiting a house in mourning was highly irregular, if not wholly inappropriate, and they all knew it. But there were times when overlooking the rules of propriety was warranted. This was one of those times.

“We are so sorry to intrude during Lady Philippa’s darkest time,” Stella said. “But we need to talk to her. It has to do with the manner of Lord Fairbrother’s death.”

Stella took a step forward. The butler didn’t budge. He filled the doorway, with his broad shoulders and stoic stare, but Stella had made up her mind. She took another step forward, pulling Lyndy along with her, and kept moving.

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