Murder at the Mikado (5 page)

“Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Farthering?” Landis asked.

Drew smiled. “I hoped we might have a discussion about . . . recent events.”

Landis’s welcoming smile vanished. “Actually I wanted to speak to you on the matter myself. Would you like to come in?” He glanced at Nick. “Both of you.”

Landis ushered them into his office and into the chairs facing his desk. “Mind if I smoke? I started off wrong this morning and can’t seem to get turned the right way round. I hate getting into work behind my time.” He lit a cigarette, then settled into his own chair. “I hope you’ll forgive me for bothering you with this, Mr. Farthering, but I’ve heard about the murder investigations you’ve been involved with.” He nodded at Nick. “Both of you. This is, well, something I’d rather not have to discuss with the boss, but I don’t much know where else to turn.”

Drew nodded. “About the Ravenswood murder.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“That’s exactly what we came to talk to you about. First off, I would strongly advise that you find someone who’s an expert at this sort of thing. Nick and I, as earnest as we are about delving into these kinds of cases, we’re rank amateurs.
You’d do far better to go to the police or a professional who knows what he’s doing.”

“Fleur told me you’d say that.”

There was a touch of rue in the man’s expression, and Drew couldn’t help pitying him. “She told you she’d come to see me?”

“Yes.” Landis shook his head. “I’m most terribly sorry she bothered you, Mr. Farthering. I didn’t know about it until afterward. I told her she must never do such a thing again, but now . . . well, now things are different.”

Drew narrowed his eyes. “Different? How?”

Landis exhaled sharply, sending smoke up toward the ceiling. “The police have been here to speak with me, and they’ve come to interview Fleur. Twice now. Just gathering information, they say, but it seems rather unlikely they’d waste their time if they didn’t see her as a suspect.”

“I suppose not,” Drew said. “Do you know where she was at the time of the murder?”

“I do,” Landis said. “She was at home all night. With me.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, right?”

Landis blew out his breath. “The police don’t seem to be completely convinced.”

“All the more reason for you to involve professionals in the matter.”

“No!” Landis took two more puffs of his cigarette before he went on. “Forgive me, Mr. Farthering. As you might expect, what with one thing and another, I’ve been a bit on edge lately. But, really, as Fleur told you, we don’t want this getting about. The scandal would ruin everything.”

“You know it will get out if charges are pressed,” Nick said quietly.

Landis nodded. “That’s why we were hoping you two might look into this for us. On the hush-hush, as it were.”

“Believe me,” Drew told him with a touch of good humor, “I’ve had my share of notoriety these past few months. It doesn’t generally last.”

“It’s not just the scandal.” Landis tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. “It’s . . . a certain family situation.”

Drew lifted one eyebrow, waiting for the man to go on.

“You may have heard of my uncle, Clive Vernet Brent. No? He made his fortune in the cotton mills up north some fifty years ago and has kept it through some fairly shrewd investments since then. He was eighty-eight last spring and, until a month or so ago, was as hale as I am. Now, though, his doctors tell me he won’t likely see eighty-nine.”

Nick frowned. “Surely he’s not so fragile that the mention of such a scandal would—”

“No, that’s not it at all. But I am the only family he has left. He didn’t want me to marry Fleur. In fact, he very nearly disinherited me over it. I calmed him down, convinced him that she was nothing like he thought and promised him she would never shame my name or his.” The warmth came back into Landis’s eyes. “When Peter was born, that scotched a lot of his objections, and he’s seemed content since to know that when he’s gone, his money will come to me and, in time, to Peter.”

Drew picked up a photograph that stood there on the desk, and again that look of pride came into Landis’s face. In the picture he was sitting in a large wicker peacock chair, with Fleur standing next to him. He had his hand at the small of her back, and she was looking straight ahead, smiling that dazzling smile and making the most of those eyes. Clearly the camera loved her as much as the footlights once had.

Their little boy, Peter, was beaming at his father, standing sturdy-legged in Landis’s lap, both arms around his neck. Despite having his mother’s pretty features, he clearly did not share her dark hair and eyes. Landis was dark too, though perhaps he’d been fair as a child.

“Yes,” Landis said. “Uncle dotes on the boy. I’d hoped to take Peter to see him one last time, but it doesn’t seem too likely now he’s ill. Seems rather a shame.”

“It does. But I can see why he’d be taken with the little fellow. How old did you say he was?”

“Four. And apart from wanting to climb everything in sight, the boy’s good as gold.”

Drew chuckled and put the picture back where he’d found it. “I suppose you don’t want to risk the boy’s inheritance by scandalizing your uncle, eh?”

“Precisely.” Landis’s expression turned sober. “He supports a school in Manchester for underprivileged boys. Of course, he’ll leave them a nice legacy regardless, but he told me when I married Fleur that if ever she caused a scandal, every penny of his money would go to the school. I haven’t money of my own to speak of, and I’d hate my boy to be left without anything.”

“I understand,” Drew said. “Still, I’m afraid I can’t help you with this. Truly, you ought to have a professional, someone who can do you a proper job of it.”

“Please,” Landis said, “I’ve heard about the cases you were involved in—you two and your young lady, Miss Parker. You have a way of getting to the bottom of a thing.”

Drew shook his head. “And I almost got myself killed last time.”

“I doubt there’s a lunatic involved here.”

Drew studied him for a moment. “And why do you think Ravenswood was murdered, Mr. Landis?”

“Haven’t the foggiest, I’m afraid. You know how theater people can be. Might be one of them wanted to take over as leading man at the Tivoli. Could be the wife had enough of his unofficial matinees with her understudy. Could be she’d just had enough of him in general.”

“Have you ever met his wife?” Nick asked.

Landis chuckled. “Good heavens, no. I know nothing about her. I’ve seen her a couple of times on the stage, that’s all. She may well be a saint. I was just throwing out a few possibilities. There’s always the money angle. Find out where he got his and who’d benefit from his death, right? Even so, none of those reasons point to Fleur. That’s all I’m saying.”

“True.” Drew studied Landis’s eyes, his reactions. “Unless the two of them were still seeing each other.”

Landis’s face paled. “No. No, that was over years ago. Before Peter was born. I’m certain of it.”

“Sorry. I had to ask.”

“Yes, I know. And I know it’s been years since you and she were friends, but I was hoping for her sake, well, that you three might consider looking into things. Peter and I, we just wouldn’t know how to get on without Mummy.”

Drew picked up the photograph again and focused on the little boy, who was looking with adoration at his father. Then with another glance at Landis, he set the picture down and nodded.

“I was a frightful climber at that age myself.”

Landis looked puzzled for a moment, and then a smile touched his face. “You mean you will?”

Nick looked sidelong at Drew but said nothing.

“I can’t make you any guarantees of course, Landis,” Drew said, avoiding Nick’s gaze, “but I can see what I can find out. On the hush-hush.”

“Are you certain?” Landis looked pitifully relieved. “Truly?”

“You have my word on it,” Drew said.

“We’d be very much grateful, Fleur and I, for anything you three could possibly—”

“Two at most, I’m afraid.” Drew stood. “As you might well imagine, Miss Parker is quite involved in wedding plans these days.”

“Oh, of course,” Landis said, rising from his chair. “I wouldn’t dream of asking her to interrupt what she’s doing for this. But if the two of you could possibly . . .” He looked at them with hope in his eyes, and Drew nodded again.

“As I said, Mr. Landis, I can’t give you any guarantees. But for the boy’s sake, eh, Nick, old man?”

“I’m game if you are,” Nick said as he got to his feet.

“It’s very good of you, Mr. Farthering. Mr. Dennison.” Landis offered his hand to each of them in turn. “I don’t know how we could ever repay you.”

Drew gave him a shrug. “Save that until you see whether or not we’re of any help.”

Drew drove for several minutes in silence, the Rolls humming along the road back to Farthering Place, and the sunlight glinting off the patchy snow.

Finally, Nick glanced over at him. “So much for only giving him a bit of advice.”

Drew frowned. “Well, what could I have done?”

“You might have turned him down.”

“I was going to. I was absolutely not going to have anything to do with this investigation. But then, well, when he said it was for the little boy’s sake, what could I do? You, uh . . .” Drew kept his eyes on the road, forcing all emotion out of his voice. “You know how it’s been since I found out about my mother. My real mother. It’s perfectly maddening to know nothing about her, to be unable to find a trace of her still.”

Nick nodded. “I’d’ve thought your solicitors would have something by now.”

“Not a sausage,” Drew replied flatly. “Anyway, little Peter is no doubt quite attached to his own mother, such as she is. And truly there is not that much to the case. Not that much to do with Fleur anyway. It’s not as if I would be right at her side day in and day out.”

“What’s our Miss Parker going to think of this now?” Nick asked. “No doubt she’s none too happy that Fleur has popped back into your life. I daresay she’d prefer you didn’t pop back into hers.”

Drew managed to keep the annoyance in his expression down to a mere hint. “There’s been no popping on the part of either party. Neither of us is pleased to renew the acquaintance, and this investigation just makes it all the more awkward.”

“But you’re going to carry on anyway.” Nick lifted one sandy eyebrow. “And Madeline is supposed to receive this news happily?”

“Not half,” Drew muttered.

“What do you suppose she’ll say?”

Drew kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to respond to Nick’s question.

“She’s not going to be pleased about this, you know,” Nick said.

Drew sighed. “I know. I know. Perhaps if we had a bit more information, I can see if there’s anything I can actually do. Like as not, there isn’t and that will be that. No need to upset the bride-to-be, eh?”

“Tread carefully, my lad, or you’re not likely to have a bride-to-be. Now just where are you hoping to obtain this additional information?”

“Well, what is one always advised to do if one is lost?”

Drew looked at Nick, and then they both spoke at once.

“Ask a policeman!”

M
adeline laid the catalogue on the bed. “I can’t decide between the ivory with bluebirds and flowers and the cream with the pink rosebuds. What do you think?”

Aunt Ruth looked down her nose at the picture. “You’re about to marry into a house with about forty different full sets of china. Why in the world would you want more?”

Madeline frowned. “I know. I thought I might want something that’s just sweet and pretty. Something we might have used at home when I was growing up. Something we can use for midnight snacks and picnics on the lawn, but I don’t know if I really want even that. I guess they expect it of me, though.”

“Who’s
they
?” Aunt Ruth’s lips twitched into a smile. “It seems to me your young man likes you for your not being too concerned what
they
think or what
they
do.”

“You’re right.” Madeline closed the catalogue. “But I do need to do some shopping.”

“And what are you after today?”

“You know the tradition, Aunt Ruth. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

“I suppose we ought to get that straightened out then. I always expected the something old—”

“Mother’s veil. I’ve wanted to wear it for my wedding since I was a little girl.”

Aunt Ruth nodded, her expression wistful. “She would like that, I know. It’s a beautiful thing too—handmade Irish lace and seed pearls, down to your feet in front and six yards down the back. You’ll be lovely in it. What about the new?”

“That’s why I wanted to go shopping. Since Drew and Nick went to the office today, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to find just the right thing.”

“What are those two doing at the office? Not work, surely.”

Madeline shrugged. “I don’t know. They went to talk to Mr. Landis about something. I think Nick went only to get out from under Mr. Dennison’s watchful eye.”

“Not more of that detective nonsense, I hope.”

“Not today, no. I think Drew’s given that up. At least until after the wedding.” Madeline shrugged. “More or less.”

Aunt Ruth gave her a shrewd look. “In other words, he’s not telling you what he’s up to.”

“It’s not that. He told Mrs. Landis very plainly that he wouldn’t be investigating that actor’s murder. I think that’s the end of it.”

“You don’t sound too sure.” The older woman stood with her arms crossed. “And just why is that?”

Madeline sighed and sat down on the bed. “I know how much he likes solving these cases. He says, and I think he just might be right, that he feels it’s something he’s supposed to do.”

“A rather odd sort of calling to have, isn’t it?” Aunt Ruth smirked. “Detecting?”

Madeline laughed. “I suppose it is, put that way. But we’re not all called to preach, are we? Besides, it’s really only helping people who need it. Isn’t that what we’re all called to do?”

“True enough. But you say he’s turned down this particular case, so why the worry?”

Madeline propped her chin on one hand. “I’m afraid it won’t be the end of it. You saw him when Mr. Montford was murdered. He was going to stay out of that one too, but Mrs. Montford coaxed him into investigating anyway.”

“Good thing she did too,” Aunt Ruth said. “No telling how long it would have taken that Birdsong fellow to figure out what was going on. He nearly got your young man killed as it was.”

“You can’t blame that on the chief inspector. If Drew hadn’t insisted on keeping his suspicions to himself, he wouldn’t have gotten into trouble like that.”

“Maybe so. Anyway, if he’s promised you he’ll stay out of this one, you shouldn’t trouble yourself about it.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly promise,” Madeline said. “He didn’t even tell me he would stay out of it. He told Mrs. Landis he wasn’t the right man for the job and that was all.”

“So? I don’t know what’s wrong with that. What did you want him to do?”

Madeline squirmed under her aunt’s stern gaze. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted him to tell her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t ever want to see her again.”

Aunt Ruth sat down on the bed next to her. “Their friendship was a little more than friendship, wasn’t it?”

Madeline caught hold of her arm. “Don’t tell him we talked about this. Please. It’s not . . .”

Aunt Ruth patted her hand. “He’ll never hear it from me. But it sounds as if he more or less did tell her he didn’t want her to come back. So long as the past is firmly in the past, and he has made his peace with God over it, I don’t know what more you can expect from him.”

Madeline frowned. “Maybe I don’t know what I expect, either. She’s just . . . well, you saw Drew and Nick that night at dinner. Mr. Landis, too. Not that they all weren’t perfectly polite, but you could see the effect she had on them. I don’t expect there’s much she wants that she doesn’t get.”

“Do you think he is still interested in her? In Mrs. Landis?”

Madeline shook her head. “I don’t think that at all. I just don’t like the idea of him still being in contact with her. Even if it’s just in this investigation.”

“For goodness’ sake, Madeline, if you don’t trust the man any more than that, you probably shouldn’t be marrying him.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust him.” Madeline shook her head again, not knowing if she wanted to laugh or cry. “It’s not that at all. I don’t want her to be on his mind right now. We’re about to get married. I want him to be thinking of the future, not of the past. He doesn’t remember her fondly, and I don’t want that tainting what ought to be a happy time for us both.”

“No use borrowing trouble,” Aunt Ruth said.

Madeline gave her a reluctant smile. “I suppose you’re right. He’s through with the whole matter. If Mrs. Landis didn’t kill this Ravenswood person, then it’s up to the police to figure out who did. Drew has more important things to do at the moment.”

“Exactly.” Aunt Ruth pulled her to her feet and thrust a handkerchief into her hand. “Now wash your face and put
on a little powder and you’ll be fresh as this morning’s snow. We were talking about your ‘something new,’ weren’t we?”

Madeline laughed, sniffled and blew her nose. Then she did as her aunt suggested and washed and powdered her face. She glanced in the mirror as she finished and patted her hair into place. It hadn’t been a real cry, only just enough to add a touch of pink to her cheeks.

“Yes,” she told Aunt Ruth when she came back into the bedroom. “We were talking about my something new. I thought it would be nice to have that be something I bought here. Sort of a symbol of my new life, a new start and all that. What do you think?”

“Yes, I suppose that would be very nice.”

“Just one other thing . . .”

Aunt Ruth pursed her lips. “Yes?”

“Well, I thought . . .” Madeline took a deep breath. “I thought, since it is my wedding and such a joyous occasion, I thought maybe we could get you a dress in a happier color.”

Aunt Ruth arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying what I would choose to wear isn’t good enough for your shindig?”

“Oh, no, Aunt Ruth. Please don’t be mad. It’s just that, well, I thought just for once, you might not wear black.”

Aunt Ruth tugged at the lapels of her black satin jacket, pulling it more snugly around her. “Black was evidently good enough for Queen Victoria, and I assume she attended a great many weddings in her time.”

Madeline kissed her aunt’s cheek. “You wear whatever you like, dear. I just thought that if you hadn’t absolutely decided what you’re going to wear, you might want to look around a little while we’re out.”

Aunt Ruth looked doubtful. “There isn’t much to choose
from in the village, you know. What are you going to get? A string of those paste pearls they sell at the drugstore?”

Madeline giggled. “Of course not. But I thought we might go over to Mrs. Forest’s shop and see what she has.”

Aunt Ruth consulted the little watch brooch that was pinned to her blouse. “You’d better get a move on then, missy, or that fiancé of yours will be back, and you two and Mr. Dennison will end up dashing up to some village called Porridge-on-Toast, looking for a redheaded train conductor with a parrot and a wooden leg or some such nonsense.”

“Don’t be silly,” Madeline said as she put on her coat. “Porridge-on-Toast is in Yorkshire, and we’d never get up there and back before teatime.”

It was a beautiful day, despite the snow, and Madeline was certain that if Drew were here, the two of them would have walked over to the village. But with her cane, Aunt Ruth wasn’t used to going such distances on foot, so Madeline had Denton, the chauffeur, bring around the Bentley and drive them.

Forest’s Ladies’ Emporium was at the end of the High Street in Farthering St. John, just around the corner from the church. Like almost all the buildings in the village, it was a small, half-timbered structure at least three hundred years old. Mrs. Forest, a wizened little sparrow of a woman, came around from behind the counter to greet them.

“Good morning, ladies. How may I help?”

Though Madeline was already scanning the display cases, she looked up and smiled at the older woman. “I was looking for my ‘something new’ to wear when I marry Mr. Farthering.”

“Ah, certainly,” said Mrs. Forest. “Best wishes to you both. And do you have a sixpence for your shoe?”

“What’s that?” Aunt Ruth asked, looking at her and then at Madeline. “A sixpence?”

“It’s the tradition here,” Madeline said, and Mrs. Forest nodded.

“Yes, indeed, ma’am. ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in her shoe.’ And if you don’t have one already, you can go right over to the post office and change one of yours for a bright new one. Mr. Pringle keeps them specially. He’s really quite a sentimental old dear, but don’t tell him I said so.”

Madeline chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t. But I’ll certainly remember to go see him. I thought if I had a brand-new sixpence, I could keep it after the wedding. It would have our year on it and everything. Maybe I could have it put on Drew’s watch chain for a remembrance.”

“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Forest agreed. “Now, about your something new . . .”

“Yes.” Madeline eyed the display cases again. “Is there anything you would recommend?”

“We have some nice lace gloves.”

“I’ll be wearing my mother’s gloves and veil. They’re handmade Irish lace. I’d like to add something from Farthering St. John.”

“Ah.” Mrs. Forest led Madeline and Aunt Ruth over to a tall glass case in the corner of the shop. “Here is where I keep the jewelry. Of course, this isn’t London. I don’t have anything with large diamonds and the like. Just good pieces you could wear to a nice dinner and all. These are the newest.”

She showed Madeline a tray of pretty rings and bracelets, nothing large or gaudy.

Madeline’s breath caught in her throat. “Oooh, may I see that one?” she asked, pointing.

Mrs. Forest smiled. “You may, but it’s not new. In fact, it’s quite old.”

She took out the piece, a tiny brooch of seed pearls around a delicate oval cameo of an angel. It wasn’t even an inch long.

“That’s so sweet.” Madeline touched it with one finger and glanced up at her aunt. “I think it’s just what I want.”

Aunt Ruth snorted. “I thought you were after something new.”

“Well, for me it’s new. Besides, isn’t that sort of like my coming to England? While everything’s very old here, it’s all new to me.”

Mrs. Forest brought out a piece of black velvet and laid it on the counter. Then she set the brooch on it.

“The lady who owned this, a Mrs. Featherstone, was also from America. She came here when she was just a girl, sent over by her parents due to the war between the North and the South. She met Mr. Featherstone and never went home again. They were married nearly seventy years and passed away about four years ago now. She went only a day after he did. I’m told he gave her this brooch on their wedding day.”

“Isn’t that a lovely story?” Madeline turned shining eyes to her aunt. “So romantic.”

Aunt Ruth looked as if she didn’t believe a word of it, but at least she was polite enough not to say so. “And how did you come by it, may I ask?”

“Once the old couple were gone, one of the man’s distant relatives, a great-nephew or some such, sold off everything
they had.” There was a certain wistfulness in Mrs. Forest’s rheumy eyes. “There were a few rather grand pieces of jewelry that were a bit much for my shop, but I did manage to get hold of some of the smaller ones. All of them sold now. All but this.” She held up the brooch near Madeline’s cheek. “You would look charming wearing it. It suits you.”

Madeline beamed at her. “It’s just what I wanted, even if I didn’t know it until just now. I’ll take it.”

“Hogwash,” Aunt Ruth said the moment she and Madeline left the shop. “Utter and unadulterated hogwash.”

Madeline giggled. “I don’t care if it is. I like the brooch, and I want it for my wedding.”

“Besides,” Aunt Ruth said, “aren’t those things, the something old and new and all the rest, aren’t they supposed to be given to you? I didn’t think you were supposed to buy them for yourself.”

“What difference does it make? If you like, I’ll give the brooch to you, and you can give it to me as a wedding present. How would that be?”