Wherever Lynn Goes (10 page)

“Won't you join us?” Mandy asked sweetly.

“Mandy!”

“There's plenty, Lynn.”

“Don't mind if I do,” he said.

He took a plate down from one of the cabinets, got silverware and napkin from a drawer, pulled up a chair, and began to help himself generously to the various gourmet items Mandy had taken out of the basket. I stared at him angrily as he appropriated half a cooked pheasant, piled slices of glazed ham onto his plate, and spread pâté over a chunk of French bread. Mandy was all charm, a guileless look in her velvety brown eyes.

“Have some caviar, too,” she said. “It's divine.”

“Believe I will,” he replied, reaching for the tin.

Bartholomew Cooper was completely at ease, eating heartily. I merely toyed with my food, fuming, as irritated with Mandy as with him. Mandy had a dreamy, rather vague expression, and I knew she was planning something. Her invitation for him to join us had not been without purpose, I suspected, and my suspicion was confirmed when, twenty minutes later, basket emptied and every last bit of food devoured, she turned to him with her most dazzling smile.

“I
do
adore roughing it, don't you? Such fun. Incidentally, I understand you're the one who discovered the body.”

“That's right,” he replied, not for a minute taken in by her ploy.

“It must have been a perfectly
dreadful
experience.”

“It was.”

“Well, come
on,
” she urged, “tell us all about it. We're dying to hear, aren't we, Lynn?”

“Not especially,” I said.

Folding his arms across his chest, Bartholomew Cooper tilted his chair back and observed us with thoughtful eyes. The first drops of rain began to fall, pattering gently at first, growing louder and more forceful. The overhead light flickered, dimming to a feeble yellow glow, and shadows began to gather in the corners of the large old kitchen. The windows rattled noisily.

“I'd been dining with my brother at Cooper House,” he said. “We're not on the best of terms, but Janie—Lady Cooper—insisted I come. I couldn't refuse without causing a row. It was after twelve when I finally left, and as I was driving up my headlights illuminated the front of the house. I saw Colonel March come streaking out. He paused for a moment, startled by my car, I guess, then raced into the woods. The front door was standing open. I went inside and found Daphne at the foot of the stairs. I telephoned the police immediately.”

“Was the blood still flowing?” Mandy asked casually.

“There were pools of it.”

“Flowing?”

“I suppose. I didn't take notes.”

“Did Colonel March have the knife in his hand when you saw him?”

“I didn't notice.”

“Surely you would have?”

“He may have had it. I didn't see it. He could have thrust it into his belt.”

“I suppose so,” she said, frowning. “They'd been feuding, hadn't they?”

“So they say. I wouldn't know. I'd been away, you see. In fact, I'd just come back that morning, which is why I felt obligated to dine with my brother and sister-in-law. When I left Cooper's Green two and half months ago, Daphne and the Colonel were as thick as thieves, but a lot can happen in that length of time.”

“You were gone for two and a half months?”

“I was in New York,” he replied. “On business.”

I interrupted before Mandy could ask another question. “We'd better do the dishes,” I said hastily. “Sergeant Duncan will probably be here soon, and I still have to phone Lloyd.”

“Lloyd?” Bartholomew Cooper inquired.

“My fiancé,” I said stiffly, getting up.

He glanced at my hand and, seeing no ring, grinned slyly. Lloyd hadn't given me a ring yet, and I suppose our engagement wasn't really official, but it was more or less understood between the two of us. The ring, the announcement—those things weren't nearly as important as what we had together, But I had no intention of explaining all this to the impudent Mr. Cooper.

He stood up, stretching his muscular arms. He was a splendid male animal, no question about it, exuding virility and robust vitality that would have been quite overwhelming to a less sensible pair of women. Mandy was well aware of his magnetism, but she was too sophisticated to be all that impressed. I found him merely irritating with his cocky grin and improbable eyebrows.

“Well, good night, all,” he said heartily. “Thanks for the meal. If you need anything—anything at all …” He lingered over the words, eyelids drooping sleepily.

“I feel quite certain we can cope, Mr. Cooper.” My voice was crisp. “Good night.”

“'Night,” Mandy said lazily, gathering up the dishes and not bothering to glance at him.

With a merry wave, Bartholomew Cooper opened the back door and dashed out into the sheets of rain. It gave me satisfaction to know that he would be soaked thoroughly before he reached the carriage house. I began stacking dishes on the drainboard, slamming them down noisily. Mandy watched me, one brow slightly arched.

“I've never seen you react this way before,” she remarked.

“React? What on earth are you talking about?”

“You had a crush on him when you were a child, didn't you?”

“A crush! I loathed him. I still do.”

“Indeed?”

“Don't be absurd, Mandy. The idea is laughable. Bart Cooper represents everything I despise in a man. He's arrogant and cocky and—and—and much too good-looking. I happen to be very much in love with Lloyd. I could never be attracted to a man like—”

I broke off. Mandy didn't say anything, but a faint smile lingered on her lips, and there was an amused, knowing look in her eyes. I felt like throwing something at her. Mandy was a dear, and I loved her very much, but sometimes she could be maddening. Sighing heavily, I turned to the dishes, and began to wash them with brisk efficiency as rain pounded on the rooftop with a most disconcerting racket.

CHAPTER SIX

Sergeant Duncan arrived half an hour later, his long black mackintosh dripping puddles of water on the hall floor, his thick blond hair plastered in a wet mass over his head. As I closed the door, I noticed his bicycle leaning against the front steps. It would take quite an incentive to induce anyone to ride a bicycle all that way on a night like this, but, I reflected, Mandy was quite an incentive. He stood like a hulking schoolboy, dripping, gazing at her with enthralled blue eyes and trying at the same time to look the stern, capable public servant. The effort was remarkably unsuccessful. He glanced suspiciously around the hall, and began to peel off the slick mackintosh.

“You're drenched,” Mandy said, taking the garment from him and hanging it on the coat rack. “Come on into the kitchen. I've lighted the fire in the fireplace, and there's a fresh pot of coffee. You look like you could use some.”

“Much obliged, ma'am, but first things first. There're an awful lot of doors and windows in this place. I want to make sure they're all securely locked before I do anything else.”

“How efficient you are, Sergeant.”

“Person could step right in through one of those French windows,” he continued. “I don't like the setup, I'll be frank. I don't much like the two of you staying here.”

“We're not alone,” Mandy reminded him. “Mr. Cooper is still occupying the carriage house.”

“Yeah,” Duncan muttered. His scowl made his opinion of Bartholomew Cooper all, too evident. “We'd better start checking those locks. If you'd like to show me around—”

He was speaking to Mandy. I don't think he'd even noticed me. They were obviously looking forward to a prolonged tour of the dimly lighted house—alone. I told Mandy to go ahead, that I had to phone Lloyd. Slipping her arm through his, she led Sergeant Duncan away, looking positively frail beside his solid bulk. I imagined it would take them some time to check all the windows and doors.

There was a considerable delay before I reached Lloyd. His voice was husky with sleep when he answered.

“Did I wake you?” I inquired.

“I must have dropped off on the sofa. I was going over a set of papers and—”

“You work too hard,” I interrupted. “You wear yourself out, Lloyd. Why can't you let some of the others—”

“It took you long enough to phone,” he said briskly. “I was expecting your call hours ago.”

“I should have phoned earlier, but … Anyway, everything's fine here. The drive down was pleasant, and—”

“What did you find out?”

“About the house? I suppose I'll sell it, but I haven't—”

“You saw the police, didn't you?” He sounded impatient.

“Oh, yes. I stopped by the station.”

“Well?”

“Do we have to talk about that? The case is closed.”

“What did they say?”

I repeated everything I had learned, and there was a grave silence on the other end of the line. I could visualize his face, jaw thrust out, lips pressed firmly together, a serious, preoccupied look in his dark brown eyes. He would be toying with the heavy black-rimmed glasses, and the fingers of one hand would be tapping impatiently on the table top. When I finished he sighed heavily, and I could imagine the deep frown creasing his brow.

“I don't like it, Lynn. I don't like your being there. This fellow Cooper—”

“He's perfectly all right,” I assured him.

“There're too many questions unanswered. Those local policemen—”

“It's an open-and-shut case, Lloyd. I wish you wouldn't—”

“I can't help but worry about you, dammit. I wish I were there with you. I should never have let you go in the first place. Staying out there in that isolated house—”

“Don't be absurd.”

“Something's wrong. I have an instinct about these things, Lynn. It just doesn't add up. The motive, for one thing. Why should a doddering old man who raises Pekineses—”

“You and Mandy,” I said wearily.

“Look, Lynn, I don't want to alarm you, but … Hell, promise me you'll keep your eyes open. Promise me you'll be careful.”

“I promise,” I said, irritated by his attitude, but flattered as well. It was nice to know he worried about me. In London he took me for granted. I felt a warm glow as I held the receiver to my ear, longing to hear more.

“What are you wearing?” I asked.

“Huh? What a silly question. I'm wearing my pajamas and robe.”

“The brown satin robe?”

“Yeah.” I had the impression he had to check before answering.

“I'm glad,” I said. I had given him the robe for his birthday, and although I'd never seen him wearing it, I knew it must look handsome with his copper hair.

“You're
glad?
What do you mean? I don't follow you.”

He'd probably forgotten I'd given him the robe. There wasn't a sentimental bone in his body.

“Take care of yourself, Lloyd.”

“
You
take care.”

“I will.”

I waited. The longed-for words didn't come.

“I think maybe I can get this case wound up in a day or so,” he said brusquely. “If so, I intend to come down there. The murder aside, you need someone to look after your interests. I don't want you to sign
anything
, you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Lynn …”

“Yes?” Hope stirred.

“I miss you.”

The three words weren't the ones I'd hoped for, but they were enough. I said good-bye and hung up with a feeling of satisfaction. He missed me. He had said so. For Lloyd, that was a great concession. One of these days that stern, remote façade would crumble altogether, and all the warmth and feeling I knew he possessed would come bursting through. He loved me, I knew that, and if he wasn't demonstrative, that didn't make his love any the less valid.

Mandy and Sergeant Duncan were still checking the locks. I could hear them moving around upstairs. Feeling a little sad without knowing precisely why, I went into the library and turned on the lamp beside the desk. The jumbled files were still piled there in a precarious heap. Several folders had slipped to the floor. Sitting down behind the desk, I began to try to restore some order. The lamplight flickered, once or twice going out completely, blossoming back to life a few seconds later. Outside the rain still poured, though without its previous fury.

I don't know how long I worked, sorting articles and clippings, putting them in the proper folders, but when I looked up Mandy was standing in the doorway, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Deaf, dear?”

“I—I didn't hear you.”

“I only called your name three times. Make any progress?”

I stacked the folders I had been working on in a neat pile and pushed them aside. “A little. It looks like a hopeless task.”

“We've checked all the doors and windows and had a cozy chat by the fire in the kitchen. Doug is leaving now.”

“Doug?”

“The sergeant,” she said lightly. “You seem terribly distracted tonight.”

“I suppose I'm just tired. All this mess—”

“You've done enough for one night Come along and say good-bye.”

I followed her into the hall, where Sergeant Duncan was pulling on his mackintosh. His cheeks were a bit flushed, and his thick blond hair was mussed. Mandy smiled at him. He scowled, very severe and official.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he said in a husky voice. “I don't think you'll have any trouble, but … uh … you've got my telephone number. Don't hesitate to call if you need me.”

“I won't,” Mandy promised.

“I don't think anyone can get in. You be sure and lock the front door behind me.”

Young Douglas nodded his head and opened the door. We followed him out onto the veranda. Although thunder still rumbled menacingly, the rain had stopped. Sergeant Duncan hesitated, obviously reluctant to leave.