The Lady Is Innocent (The Star Elite Series) (3 page)

Florrie was lost in thought. She stood on the edge of a small wood and briefly contemplated the narrow winding path that led deeper into the thick foliage. Glancing down at her clean dress and the rain clouds hovering above, she slowly turned and made her way down the stone path that she had taken to the church yesterday. She glanced at the wonderful landscaped gardens around her and caught sight of two ladies strolling through the rose garden to the right. It was Portia and Harriett. Florrie paused for a moment and knew that if she crossed paths with them she would be obliged to accompany them on their walk if they invited her. Right now though, she wanted a few minutes outside to herself, away from her aunt’s dogged persistence and away from curious stares and the strange sense of disquiet that seemed to have settled over her.

Florrie
quickly turned down the driveway leading away from the house. Keeping to the pathway, she slowly made her way toward the church. It wasn’t that she really wanted to go to church, but it was probably the only place she could go where she could be alone for a while. Right now, she desperately needed to think.

She hadn’t lost sight of just how determined her aunt had been last night to get a few minutes alone with her.
Tabatha had tried, and failed on more than one occasion to come up with any reason to get a quiet word with Florrie, all of which Florrie had successfully blocked. She knew that the curiosity of the other women in the drawing room had been raised, but she had merely smiled obliquely at them, unprepared to explain her behaviour to any of them. After all, it wasn’t as if any of them were going to be acquaintances in the future. They all had very different futures ahead of them and the likelihood of their paths ever crossing by chance was extremely remote.

Florrie
knew that this morning her aunt would be even more determined to get a few minutes alone with her niece and less inclined to be fobbed off. Last night, Tabatha had been on the verge of being argumentative and challenging. Florrie had only just managed to avoid a public spectacle but the last thing she wanted to do was get involved in any of her aunt’s machinations. She had done enough to try to protect her aunt, but had now run out of excuses, and willingness, to help her. Without having cross words with her aunt, there was very little she could do. Although there was not really much love lost between the two women, she didn’t want to part company with Tabatha on a sour note, especially given that her aunt and uncle had given Florrie a home when she had so desperately needed one.

She will be angry anyway when she knows you are going to leave her alone
, a small voice warned her, but she quickly blocked it out. Nothing, and nobody, was going to stop her from spending the rest of her life in peaceful tranquillity, not even her aunt.

She slowly made her way toward the small stone structure on the edge of the
Melvedere estate. Staring down at the ground while she walked, she was busy thinking about the small cottage she was going to call home, and wondered whether she should send a note to her uncle Silas to find out how the repairs were going and whether the house would be ready in time for her arrival.

“What on earth?” She froze and stared at the legs that lay before her on the narrow stone pathway. She glanced quickly around and studied the area, but there was nobody else around. Easing forward, she swallowed harshly. Part of her wanted to run,
all the way back to Crompton to summon the others, but logic warned her that the man might be hurt. He might need help. She would be no help to him if she ran away.

Grab a hold of yourself,
Florrie
, she sternly warned herself, and cautiously edged forward. Every nerve was stretched taught. She peered cautiously around the gravestone that blocked her view of the rest of the man and gasped.

The once white shirt was liberally soaked in blood; red blood that w
as still oozing from the holes in his chest. She studied his pale face, but it didn’t look familiar. Who was he? Where had he come from? Her initial thought was, what on earth could he have been doing that would cause him such injuries? But then logic took a hold and she realised that he had not done this to himself. Someone had done it to him.

Her suspicions were proven correct when her stunned gaze landed on the wicked looking blade that lay further along the path that ran around the outside of the church. Sh
e glanced around her again but couldn’t see anybody hiding behind any of the gravestones, or in the trees. She was all alone; except for the man at her feet. She knew she had to check if the man was still breathing, but hesitated to go near him.

Swallowing repeatedly did little to quell the churning in her stomach but, nevertheless, she took a deep, fortifying breath and edged closer. The
morning suddenly didn’t seem as bright and appealing as it had a few moments earlier, but was that because of the rain clouds that were hovering threateningly above? Or, was it because of the sudden tension that thrummed through her?

She moved to stand next to the man’s shoulder and hesitantly placed a hand on his chest
in between two blooded holes and the worst of the red staining. Her nose wrinkled as her fingers met with the oozing gloop anyway. Bile lodged in her throat. Her hand trembled as it lay on the unmoving chest. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or horrified at the thought that he was dead yet still warm. She rose to her feet and shifted to one side. The tinkling of something on the floor caught her attention and she glanced down at the knife again. She knew it had been the weapon that had taken the man’s life and stared down at it for a moment before she bent and picked it up. She stared blankly at her hands, and felt the world swirl alarmingly around her.

Her gaze locked on the
wicked looking object in her fingers. The handle of the blade was intricately carved with what looked like a silver viper twisted coiled around what looked like a wooden handle. The metalwork was flawless but it was the serrated edge of the blade that made bile surge afresh and she wondered if she was going to be sick.

“Stand perfectly still,” Pie warned, staring hard at the woman before him. He was aware of Archie moving through the gravestones to come up on
Florrie’s other side, but his eyes never left her. He daren’t break his gaze. The disappointment within him was so strong that he fought the urge to thump the church wall behind her. His eyes flicked to Archie’s long enough for him to catch Archie’s nod before he disappeared around the side of the church to begin a thorough search of the churchyard.

Florrie
jumped at the sound of his voice directly before her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. She was mesmerised and horrified at the sight of the blood on her hands. It oozed sickeningly between her fingers. She glanced up at the forbidding face of Pie but couldn’t think. She didn’t know what to do, how to explain.

“He is dead,” she whispered, glancing down at the body at her feet.
“How?” Nothing seemed to make any sense. She was vaguely aware of Pie moving to stand beside her and made no protest as he eased the blade out of her hand.

Pie studied her face. She was clearly in shock, but was that because she had just killed a man?

She turned to look blankly at Pie only to catch sight of Archie moving toward them from the side of the church.

He shook his head at Pie.
“Nothing.”

Archie bent down and placed his hand on the body at their feet.

“Dead.”

Both men stared at Florrie who looked back at them blankly. Neither man was accusing her, but it was clear that they were waiting for something.

Alarm rose within her as she realised they were waiting for an explanation.

“You can’t think that
I
had anything to do with this?” She waved a hand down at the man at their feet and glanced at the mess on her hands and dress. It seemed to be everywhere. She fought the wave of hysteria that threatened and turned horrified eyes back toward Pie and Archie.

“Tell us what happened.” It wasn’t a question. Pie’s face was as grave as his voice and he struggled to
shake out of her what he wanted - needed to know.

“I just came, and he was here,”
Florrie replied blankly. It was the truth. “He -” She was at a loss to know what to say next. Were they going to send her to jail? She hadn’t done anything wrong. But this was the Star Elite; a government organisation who worked for the good of the country. They had a duty to uphold and had to carry out their duties to the letter. Despite her shock, it wasn’t lost on her that she was now under suspicion of killing the man lying at her feet.

“I didn’
t do it.” She glanced frantically from Pie to Archie but found little sympathy in either man’s face. Both of them looked cold and hard, and she knew she would find little understanding there. “I didn’t kill him,” she cried frantically, her eyes pleading with both of them. “It wasn’t me.”

“Do you know him?” Pie’s voice was
ruthless. He struggled with the urge to sweep her into his arms, but right now didn’t know what to think. He and Archie had caught her red-handed. He winced at the mental analogy. She was indeed red handed. Digging into his pocket, he handed her a handkerchief and watched as she took it from him but, rather than wipe the blood away, she stared down at her hands blankly, as though she wasn’t sure what to do with the cloth or her hands.

She shook her head slowly. She had never seen the man before in her life.

“Do you know of anyone who would be in this area for nefarious purposes?”

He watched as
Florrie physically flinched and looked off into the distance as though lost in thought.

Florrie
felt the weight of their doubt settle on her shoulders and lapsed into silence. She didn’t know how to answer that question. Her thoughts turned toward Arnold Dexter. He wasn’t responsible for this surely? She didn’t know the man at her feet and had certainly never seen him in Dexter’s company. Dexter had followed them to Melvedere merely to get the large sum of money he was owed back from Tabatha, but Florrie couldn’t discount the possibility that the man at her feet had himself crossed Dexter. After all, the owner of the gambling house had been rather sinister in his threats of late, and had threatened to do ‘whatever was necessary’ to ensure his money was returned. But did that mean murdering someone? Was the man at their feet someone who had owed Dexter money? The possibility of that seemed extremely remote but, had the dead man been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Had he been in the churchyard for some other reason but stumbled upon Dexter who was waiting for Tabatha to deliver the first of the repayments?

“
Florrie?”

Her attention snapped back to Archie who shifted impatiently before her.

“I am sorry, what did you say?” She was filled with dread that they would continue to probe into matters that weren’t hers to discuss. “I have no idea who he is,” she whispered, turning her gaze away from the corpse.

“I think you had better come with me back to
Crompton.” Pie took hold of her elbow and shared a look with Archie, no nodded imperceptibly. He would remain with the body until the men from the house came to conduct a thorough search of the church, the churchyard and the body.

Florrie
was silent as they made their way slowly down the long road toward Crompton. She felt Pie glance at her several times. At first she was relieved that he made no attempt at conversation but, when they were half way down the drive, he broke the silence.

“I know there is trouble around you,” Pie declared, watching
Florrie blush guiltily. “You have you understand that it is our job to get the bottom of matters such as these. It will make our job considerably easier if you tell us what we want to know from the outset.” He sighed in frustration when she remained quiet. He didn’t exactly expect her to tell him everything while they were on the driveway, but he needed her to confide in him. “We will find out who he is, and exactly what happened in that churchyard, you can count on it.”

“I didn’t kill him,”
Florrie argued, her voice firmer now that the first wave of shock had started to wear off. “He was already dead when I got there.”

Pie’s eyes met and held hers for several long moments. He wanted to believe her, but wasn’t altogether sure. He couldn’t lose sight of his years of experience with the Star Elite. He had seen with his own eyes just how duplicitous even the most beautiful females could be and had no intention of being snared in this particular beauty’s web of deceit. Still, he couldn’t prevent the bitter surge of regret that swept through him at the thought that the lady before
him may not be as innocent as she might pretend to be.

Pie escorted her through the main hall and straight into the study. She was acutely aware of the stunned silence that swept through the occupants of the room
when they caught sight of her. She didn’t even glance at Harriett, who quietly made her excuses and left.

Instead, she allowed Pie to escort her to one of the chairs but shook her head at the small goblet of brandy he offered her. She glanced down at her soiled hands and glanced away, unable to stand the sight of the man’s blood on her fingers.

“Pie?” Hugo’s voice was deadly. “Care to explain?”

Florrie
listened while Pie recounted what they had found in the churchyard. Although he didn’t say as much, the inference that she had carried out the deadly attack was there in his voice.

“I didn’t kill him,”
Florrie argued, desperation clawing at her. If she allowed Pie to continue to recount his findings with everyone, she would be on her way to jail and tried and convicted for murder before she could draw a breath. She glared at him defiantly and turned her gaze toward Hugo, Simon and Jonathan who all stared back at her. They were waiting.

She explained what had happened in slow, careful tones. It was the honest truth. She couldn’t embellish it, she didn’t excuse it. There was nothing to excuse. Why then were they still staring at her?

“Why did you pick up the blade?” The soft question came from Simon, whose casual posture in the chair before the fire place sat in stark contrast to the tension within the room.

Florrie
watched as Jonathan spoke quietly to Pie before nodding toward Rupert, who was standing next to the window. Both men quietly left the room.

“I knocked it with my foot. I bent down and placed my hand on his chest to see if he was still breathing.” Her breath hiccupped in her throat and she felt tears beckon as she glanced down at her
fingers. “There was no movement,” she whispered, her eyes filled with horror. “He was already dead.” She glanced back at Simon, ignoring the single tear that trickled down her cheek. “When I stood up, I nudged the knife with my skirts or something, I am not sure, but I picked it up and then Pie and Archie appeared.” She knew her breath was coming in hiccupping pants but couldn’t stop the tide of panic that was gathering. She had no idea what she was going to do if they didn’t believe her. Her aunt Tabatha would certainly be no help. If only she had insisted on moving to Norfolk as soon as the house was purchased, none of this would have happened. 

“Who was the man in the
churchyard yesterday?” Pie had to know. He had no idea of the question had any significance to the body, and he was certain that the dead man wasn’t the man who had appeared in the crowd, but he just had to know if they were related. He watched her carefully but could see nothing but shock and honesty staring back at him.

“That is my aunt’s problem. He is a man from her past, not mine. She will give you all of the details.
She has a serious problem with gambling and he – the man in the churchyard yesterday, is linked to that.” Right now that was the least of her concerns, unless the corpse owed Dexter money, he must be completely unrelated to the debts her aunt owed.

“What is the man’s name?” Hugo asked, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. He mentally sighed and wondered if the Star Elite would ever be off duty. He studied the almost protective stance that Pie had taken up beside her and wondered whethe
r it was because he was preparing to prevent her from escaping, or protecting her from attack. Either way, Hugo sensed there was deeper trouble brewing than anyone realised.

“He isn’t your husband, thwarted lover or anything?” Pie growled, mentally crossing his fingers.

Florrie shook her head solemnly. “I have only my step-aunt, such as she is, and my uncle Silas, who lives in Norfolk, apart from Jamie, of course.” She sighed deeply. She watched a maid place a bowl of water, some soap and a towel on a table by the door.

“Wash your hands and then we will ask you some more questions,” Hugo murmured quietly. He leaned back in his seat as
Florrie stood and moved toward the door. Pie followed her. Hugo had no doubt that if Florrie did run then Pie would not be far behind. She would never make it half way across the main hallway before she was captured.

Florrie
was glad for the opportunity to rid her hands of the evidence of the morning’s horrors. She studiously ignored the red and brown stains that soiled her dress as she resumed her seat. She had no intention of going anywhere until she had convinced these men that she had done nothing wrong.

“I didn’t do it,” she whispered. Her eyes silently
begged Pie to believe in her.

“What’s going on with
Tabatha?” Pie stared blankly at her and struggled not to give in to the temptation to reassure her that everything was going to be alright. He wondered if the body they now had on their hands had anything to do with the man who had appeared in the congregation yesterday.

Florrie
glanced at the men around the room. This was family business. Did they really need to know?

“You need to ask her,” she replied cautiously. This was her aunt’s business and certainly not something
Florrie was at liberty to disclose, even when her own freedom was at stake. There was nothing the men in the room could do to erase Tabatha’s debts and, as far as Florrie was concerned, it was down to Tabatha to sort herself out.

That thought made
Florrie hesitate. She wondered when she had become so hard-hearted. It certainly hadn’t been the way she had been raised to behave. She was by nature as generous and gentle as anyone could be but, of late her aunt had become less and less likeable. The growing animosity between her and Tabatha was part of the reason why Florrie had spoken to Silas about purchasing a home of her own. She knew that she had to get out of her aunt’s house and away from her gambling as soon as possible, preferably before the growing animosity between them grew to unbearable levels. But did that warrant her breaking Tabatha’s trust and telling the men about her sordid lifestyle?

“I am asking you, Florrie,” Pie countered, not giving an inch. His gaze hardened and he fought the urge to shake her. Why wasn’t she being honest with him? She was the only real, close relative Jamie had and Pie was loath to think the worst of her but, right now, she wasn’t exactly helping herself. Why was she protecting her aunt when there was so much acrimony between them?

“I can’t help you if you won’t take me into your confidence,
Florrie,” Pie added after several minutes of prolonged silence. “We can help you with this but you need to be honest with us.”

“I didn’t do it,”
Florrie whispered back, swiping at the tears on her face.

“Did you go out at all last night?”

Florrie shook her head. “I went to bed at the same time as everyone else.” She went a few minutes before everyone else, and felt the heavy weight of guilt settle around her just that little bit more. Nobody had seen her go into her bedroom so she now had nobody to prove she had actually gone to bed. 

“
Did you go out overnight?” Pie’s voice was cool and controlled even though he was fighting bitter frustration. This was different to other missions they went on, because this involved someone who was close to one of his friends. Whether he liked it or not, Florrie was living amongst the people he felt closest to and they all had a duty to get to the truth as quickly as possible. If Florrie didn’t kill the man, someone did, and while they were sitting trying to get information out of Florrie, the real murderer was getting further away.

Florrie
shook her head. “I didn’t sleep very well but I didn’t leave the bedroom until this morning. I –” She paused and thought for a minute. Norfolk really had nothing to do with any of them, and she couldn’t risk anyone telling her aunt about it. The last thing Florrie needed was for her aunt to find out about Florrie’s house in Norfolk now. Florrie knew that Tabatha would be unable to resist trying to use the house as collateral to secure funds for her gambling. It was what she had done with her own home after all.

“I don’t have any proof though,” she finished weakly and cast
Pie an apologetic glance. It was the truth. Nobody had seen her from when she left the sitting room downstairs, until she saw Pie and Archie in the churchyard this morning.