Murder at the Spring Ball: A 1920s Mystery by Benedict Brown (simple ebook reader txt) 📕

time still, Milord. You see, I’d opened the bottle a little earlier than necessary. It was still five to nine when I popped the cork so I figured I had time to see what was going on.”

Lord Edgington attempted to reassure the man with a gentle look, even as he asked another key question. “And who did you expect to find, out in the gardens?”

The butler breathed out heavily. “Well, the gardeners of course. I thought it was Driscoll and Danny. They’re always playing jokes and I reckoned I’d be able to get my own back on them if I snuck out through the petit salon and caught ‘em in the dark.”

“Once you got outside, what did you find?”

The trusted butler of Cranley Hall tensed his muscles and pursed his lips. Despite his reputation amongst the other staff for being a slippery customer, he was not a skilled liar. His forehead glistened with sweat, though the air in the sombre dining room was tinged with ice.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I mean, no one.” He shrugged his shoulders like a boxer gearing up for a fight and I was reminded of my black eye, which stung with the memory. It also forced me to question where Marmaduke Adelaide had gone before the toast.

My grandfather maintained an impressively unimpressed tone. “You mean to say there was no one outside when you got there?”

“Yeah. I mean… yes, Milord, that’s right. After I’d spent a good five minutes checking the gardens, I returned to the drinks room, poured enough champagne for the eleven members of the immediate Cranley family and wheeled them into the ballroom for the toast.”

“Did you see anyone on your way?” Both men turned to look at me. To be honest, I hadn’t planned to say anything, I’d been perfectly happy with my mouth locked shut, watching the expert at work. For whatever reason, though, my own thoughts had become manifest.

Grandfather narrowed his eyes a fraction but repeated my question back to our witness. “Yes, did you see anyone on your way?”

Fellowes glanced up at the ceiling, reliving that fateful moment from a mere fifteen minutes prior. “No, no I didn’t.”

Lord Edgington tilted his head from side to side in a curious fashion. It was hard to say what he was thinking, but he offered no further remark and seemed content to contemplate Fellowes in this silent manner.

“Very well, you can go about your duties.”

Fellowes looked even more surprised than I was. “That’s it?” He almost smiled, then remembered himself and sat prouder in his chair.

“Unless you have anything more to tell us?”

He shook his head. “No, Milord, nothing else. I swear, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.” Pulling his chair back noisily, he rose to standing. “Thank you, Milord.” With an uncharacteristically low bow, he stepped away from the table and left us.

On the great panel of bells just outside the room we were in, the largest and loudest rang profusely – presumably signifying the arrival of the police at the front door. Grandfather made no sign of having heard, but peered out of the window and allowed the stillness to seize the dim space we were in.

“What a sad, strange case.” Was all he had to say at first, but I didn’t want to hurry him so I bent down to stroke Delilah and waited for him to elaborate. “I have so many questions and so few people I trust to answer them.”

I dared a comment then, and immediately felt stupid for pointing out the obvious. “You do realise that there are very few suspects who could have put the poison in the champagne?”

“And who would they be?” The sentence rose to a high interrogative point before fading out.

I needed time to make the list. There were too many people in the ballroom to be sure of course but, through a process of elimination, I could rule out a good number who were not involved.

“Cora for one, she was the last to arrive for your toast. Well, Uncle Maitland was last and then her actually, but he wouldn’t have killed his own sister.”

“Wouldn’t he?”

These two words cut deep within me. Not only was it difficult for me to imagine anyone doing such a thing, coming from the man’s own father, the accusation was yet harder to swallow. I stumbled over my answer and failed to make anything more than a moan which Delilah joined in with.

“And why would you assume that he was only trying to kill his sister?” He paused for me to answer, but I had nothing more to say. “From what I can tell, the whole bottle of champagne was poisoned. Perhaps you’re right and someone wanted to kill Belinda, or maybe they were after me, but one thing is for certain; they were willing to murder the whole lot of us to achieve their ambition.”

A bitter smile crossed his lips then, and I was forced to reflect on the true savagery of the crime.

“You see, Christopher.” He leaned in closer to speak in a whisper. “If the killer had his way, we wouldn’t be here to search for evidence and uncover the truth. You and I would be keeled over on the floor of the ballroom, with our last breaths long since expired.”

Chapter Eleven

As we trailed back through the house to the front of the property, I ran through the names of those I was confident had not been present in the ballroom at five minutes to the hour, when Fellowes had opened the champagne.

My school bully: Marmaduke Adelaide.

My second cousin: Cora Villiers.

Her grandmother (my great-aunt): Clementine Cranley.

My uncle: Maitland Cranley, the Earl of Croydon.

And our butler: Mr Reginald Fellowes himself.

Walking alongside me, with Delilah at his heels, my grandfather interrupted my thoughts.

“No, no, Christopher. It’s really not that simple.” He looked down at me with great judgement in his eyes. “You’ve already decided on the suspects, but there are things I witnessed which you can’t have seen. Don’t go jumping to conclusions.”

He’d really knocked me