Murder on a Mystery Tour
: Chapter 6

The front door swung open and the first guests advanced hesitantly into the lobby. Out of the corner of her eye, Midge saw Pet and Algie slip through the French windows on to the terrace and disappear in the direction of the kitchen, safely out of sight of any of the guests.

‘Welcome to Chortlesby Manor!’ Beaming impartially upon them all, Midge swept forward to brush cheeks with Victoria Ransome.

Behind Victoria, the tour members milled in an amorphous mass. Some faces smiled, some were carefully blank, some frowned. Twenty complete strangers, birds of passage alighting at Chortlesby Manor for forty-eight-odd hours. Midge had learned from experience that some of the strangers would emerge into personalities over the next few hours, but others would inevitably remain part of the background, too tired or too indifferent to make an effort to impress themselves upon this alien scene, already looking forward only to the end of their wanderings and their return to their own homes and the lives they had left in abeyance for the duration of the tour. Some would throw themselves into the weekend as their last fling before returning to mundane life, others would regard it as just something to be endured before they could take up their proper place in the world again.

‘Pleasant journey?’ Midge inquired, as Victoria stepped back and ran a practised eye over her charges.

‘Pleasant enough,’ Victoria said absently. She looked pale and weary. Midge wondered fleetingly if she were on the point of illness, there was a lot of ’flu around.

‘It’s so nice to be back here. This place is beginning to feel like home. Or perhaps—’ Victoria sighed faintly— ‘it’s the thought that I’m handing over to someone else for a few days. This trip seems to have lasted longer than usual.’

‘It’s a lot,’ Midge said. ‘Three tours in six weeks. You’re not a professional courier. You just leave everything to us for the weekend and have a good rest.’

‘I wish I could, but I’m going back to London with the coach. I have some book-buying to do for the shop. I’ll be back for the Gala Dinner tomorrow.’ She hesitated. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No, no, not at all.’ Midge fought down a rising sense of panic. What could possibly go wrong? ‘We’re all prepared for Murder at the Manor. It’s a new script this time. I’m just sorry you won’t be here to see it.’

‘I’ll be back for most of it. You’re doing the big scene at the Gala Dinner, aren’t you?’

‘One of them,’ Midge said. ‘The other one is tonight. After dinner seems to be the best point for them—and then it takes care of the rest of the evening for those who aren’t interested in dancing.’

‘Which is most of them. The women always seem to outnumber the men on every tour I’ve ever seen and ours is no exception.’

‘They look happy and lively.’ Midge watched them as they mobbed the reception desk, registering and accepting their room keys from Reggie.

‘They’re that, all right—and they’ve been looking forward to this weekend. It’s the grande finale of their tour and, I warn you, we’ve got at least half a dozen who are determined to solve the case on their own. We’ll be lucky if they don’t come to blows with each other.’

‘That ought to add to the fun.’ The front door stood wide open as the coach driver carried suitcases inside and placed them in neat rows opposite the reception desk.

Ackroyd stalked into the lobby and glared disapprovingly at the open door. He hated draughts. In response to coos and clicking noises, he turned and surveyed the tour coldly. He was not too pleased about them, either.

‘Here, kitty … here, kitty …’ Several cat-lovers tried to tempt him to them.

‘His name is Ackroyd,’ Reggie said.

‘Ackroyd …’ someone pondered aloud. ‘Is that a clue?’

‘I see what you mean.’ Midge turned away to hide a smile. ‘They are keen.’

‘Some of them are absolutely manic. At least, that’s my own opinion.’ Victoria frowned. ‘I did tell you, didn’t I, that these aren’t our regulars. A few of them are, but most of them came on the first two tours and we had to cast our net wider to fill all the places on this one. We advertised in the Book Pages of some Sunday newspapers and got enough applicants to bring us up to a break-even point. They’re all right, but they’re not mixing as well as I’d hoped with the regulars.’

‘Ackroyd … here, Ackroyd …’ The most persistent were still trying. Ackroyd turned his back on them, flicked up his tail, twitched the tip of it and marched off.

‘Your cat isn’t very friendly,’ a woman complained to Reggie.

‘He will be when he gets to know you,’ Reggie said.

‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ the woman said. She seemed surprised when several people laughed.

‘You’ll see.’ Reggie handed her her key quickly and raised his voice. ‘Tea will be served in the Residents’ Lounge in half an hour.’

The lobby was clearing as the tour collected their suitcases and strayed off to replace their rooms. Reggie remained extremely busy behind the desk and Midge carefully avoided eye contact with any tourists struggling with large cases. Almost all cases were equipped with wheels, now that porters had become a vanishing breed, and anyone who had lacked enough foresight to travel without a wheeled case deserved to struggle.

‘In any case—’ Victoria was saying. The word brought Midge back to attention with a guilty start. ‘In any case, you’ll have Roberta to help with any problems.’

‘Roberta? Roberta Rinehart?’

‘Yes. Haven’t you heard from her? I thought she’d be here before us.’

‘Not a word.’ It was something new for Midge to worry about. ‘No one told us she was coming.’

‘Oh, I thought she’d be in touch with you herself. You have enough room, haven’t you?’

‘Oh yes,’ Midge said. ‘We can put her up in the family wing. It’s quieter and she’ll have more privacy there.’

‘Don’t count on it. Not with this lot. I’ve heard some of them plotting. I don’t think they’re going to observe any rules about places being out of bounds. I’m afraid you’re going to have to lock doors.’

‘We’ll work something out,’ Midge said vaguely, not liking to admit that most of the keys to the family wing had disappeared long ago. It had never seemed important to replace them; there were too many other necessary expenditures to be made. ‘I wish someone had let me know in advance, though.’

‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Victoria said, promptly giving Midge another anxiety complex. ‘We’re both here because we want to have a little talk with you.’

‘Oh,’ Midge said faintly. There are few prospects more ominous than that of having a little talk with people who hold the financial purse-strings.

‘You and Reggie—’ Victoria broke off as the coach driver came up to them.

‘You ready?’ he asked. ‘I want to get on to the London road before the snow starts. I don’t like the look of that sky.’

‘Yes, I’m coming.’ Victoria took a final look around the almost-deserted lobby, nodded, and brushed cheeks with Midge again. ‘See you tomorrow night. Must dash now.’ She was gone before Midge could reply.

Miss Holloway was pouring, Colonel Heather was handing round the filled cups and Lettie circulated offering plates piled high with hot buttered scones. The English tea ceremony, as mannered and timeless as the Japanese variety, was well under way. There were appreciative murmurs from the guests.

The Residents’ Lounge had originally been the Morning Room and still retained the warmth and charm of its original function. Now flames leaped high and bright in the fireplace, table lamps glowed, polished wooden surfaces shone and a faint scent of potpourri hung in the air. Outside, the leaden sky grew steadily darker, as much with the oncoming storm as with the approaching night. Inside, the lounge had become a warm and sheltered oasis … a time capsule.

‘As Treasurer of Van Dine Industries—a short burly man had begun to play the game—‘I am happy to say that we have had an excellent financial year, despite the Great Depression.’

‘How lovely for you.’ Miss Holloway gave him a look of blue-eyed approbation. ‘One lump or two?’

‘Four, if you don’t mind, ma’am. They’re really awfully small.’

‘Quite so.’ Miss Holloway plied the sugar tongs, smiling understandingly. ‘You were saying, Mr … ?’

‘Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m Stan, Stanley Marric. Er, as I was saying, I’m Treasurer of Van Dine Industries and I’m very concerned about the future of the Company. I’d hate to think that it might fall into the hands of someone who could jeopardize the market position we have gained.’ ‘Such a dear girl,’ Miss Holloway murmured. ‘I’m sure she would never do anything to upset your present excellent position … not knowingly.’

‘Accidentally would be just as bad,’ Stanley Marric said. ‘It’s the final result that counts—not the intention.’ He stirred his tea vigorously, with the air of one who had scored an important point.

Miss Holloway smiled vaguely, allowed her gaze to rove beyond him—and blinked.

‘It’s all right,’ one of the apparitions said gaily. ‘We have that effect on everyone. You’re not seeing things. There are two of us. We’re twins.’

‘The Chandler twins,’ the other one announced triumphantly. I’m Brigid and she’s Lauren.’ She giggled. ‘Or am I Lauren and she’s Brigid?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ the first one said. ‘We always say: Call us anything, but call us!’

Miss Holloway took a deep breath. ‘Two lumps or four?’ she inquired sweetly.

‘She’s got your number already!’ they accused each other merrily.

‘Those girls have been the life of the party,’ a tall, gaunt man confided to Colonel Heather. ‘I’m Dixon Carr, by the way.’ He was wearing a blood-red name tag with

DIXON

in black Gothic lettering. ‘My friends call me Dix.’

Colonel Heather nodded and managed to slide away without divulging his own name, rank and serial number. For a moment, it appeared that Dix might be about to follow his new-found friend, but a new arrival in the doorway distracted everyone.

Evelina T. Carterslee stood there, carefully surveying the lounge before venturing inside. A murmur of recognition rose from several groups. She moved forward smiling and, first things first, made straight for the tea-trolley.

Miss Holloway had the tea poured to her liking and ready for her as she reached the trolley. ‘A goodly turnout,’ Miss Holloway murmured, handing Evelina her cup. There were always some who remained in their rooms, unpacking or resting, until the Welcoming Cocktail Party. A few extreme cases could be counted on to skip tea, deeming it more important to roam the corridors and establish the lie of the land before the action started.

‘Indeed,’ Evelina murmured back. ‘Where is dear Victoria?’ She took a proprietory interest in everything about The Crimson Shroud Bookshop, since it had been named after her first novel.

‘I believe she went back to London for the night. She’ll be down tomorrow for the rest of the weekend.’

‘I see.’ Evelina did not look pleased. ‘Then I must assume that I am on duty now and it will be up to me to act as hostess for the tour.’

‘That’s right,’ Grace said heartlessly. ‘Start circulating. You’re part of the entertainment.’

Several spectators remarked among themselves on the cold look Evelina turned on Grace before walking over to the nearest group and forcing a smile.

‘Is anything wrong?’ one of them asked eagerly.

‘Not to my knowledge,’ Evelina said. Are you one of the Van Dine shareholders or one of the executives?’

There were flustered glances exchanged. Evelina waited patiently, sipping her tea.

‘I’m the Personnel Manager of Van Dine Industries,’ a short heavily-built woman said, unsmiling. ‘My name is Bertha Stout—and I’d rather not have any cracks about it.’

‘A very responsible position,’ Evelina said smoothly. ‘I’m delighted to have the opportunity to meet you. As one of the major shareholders in Van Dine Industries, I’ve welcomed the opportunity to meet so many of the marvellous people who have done so much to keep the company on an even keel during these difficult times.’

‘I’m Haila Bond,’ a small wiry terrier of a female announced. ‘I’m a major shareholder, too.’

‘No, you’re not.’ Someone contradicted her. You said you were going to be a Sales Executive.’

‘Well, I’ve changed my mind,’ Haila said firmly. ‘There are too many Sales Executives already.’

Evelina took another sip of tea, waiting until they sorted out their stories.

‘I don’t care,’ the sole man in the group declared. ‘I’m Asey Wentworth and I’m Group Sales Director.’

‘Then you can take a great deal of credit for the excellent results last year.’ Evelina beamed approval at him.

‘That’s right. And I always say—’ He gave Haila Bond a dirty look. ‘I always say there can never be too many Sales Executives.’

‘Quite right.’ Someone else had edged into the group. ‘I’m a Sales Executive—and proud of it. I’ve taken the Top Salesman Award three years running. That’s why my wife and I have been given this free trip to England—as an extra prize. I’m Norman Dain and this is my wife, Alice.’

‘I’m so pleased and thrilled to meet you,’ Alice gushed. ‘I hope you’ll let me have your autograph before this weekend is over. Oh dear—’ A frown from her husband got through to her. ‘Have I said something wrong? Shouldn’t I admit I know your name? Are … are you one of the Van Dines?’

‘It’s quite all right, my dear,’ Evelina purred. ‘I am Evelina T. Carterslee and I have invested some of my royalties in Van Dine Industries. That’s why I’m here, but I am myself.’

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Alice said. ‘I have a feeling this weekend is going to get awfully confused. The Chandler twins have shouted at me already because I forgot they were supposed to be Private Secretaries to old Ellery Van Dine and had been left a share of the business in a codicil to his Will.’

‘Alice—’ her husband warned.

‘I don’t care. I told them I didn’t think we were starting properly until the cocktail party. Now, tell me, are we?’

‘Well …’ Evelina temporized. ‘I think everyone must work themselves into their roles at their own pace. Whatever is easier for you.’

‘That’s it,’ Bertha Stout approved. ‘The game’s always afoot, eh?’

‘Well …’ Evelina said again, stealing a quick glance at her watch. ‘Almost always.’

There was a scream of brakes from the carriageway outside.

‘Something’s happening!’ the Chandler twins shrieked in unison and led the dash to the lobby.

An open sports car had drawn up outside the front entrance. Two young men leaped out and began removing luggage from the boot. One, sedately dressed in business suit with waistcoat, had a matched set of leather cases; the other, in plus-fours and tweed jacket, had two unmatched, rather cheap-looking cases.

They left their cases piled beside the car and advanced up the stone steps.

‘They’re coming! They’re coming!’ the Chandler twins squealed.

‘Who are they? … Who are they?’ The others crowded into the lobby, leaving a respectable space for events to play themselves out. ‘Are they part of it?’ They fell back still further as the door opened.

As they entered, the young man in the business suit threw his arms about the other’s shoulder and they laughed exaggeratedly at a joke that had obviously just been made.

‘Good afternoon.’ Reggie moved forward to greet them, raising his voice so that those at the back could hear. ‘You must be Mr Edwin Lupin,’ he said to the man in the business suit. ‘We’ve been expecting you, sir. But I’m afraid … ?’ He looked askance at the man accompanying him.

‘An old friend of mine I ran into in London,’ Edwin Lupin said easily. ‘I invited him along for the weekend. I’m sure Sir Cedric won’t mind.’

‘ALGIE!’ The Honourable Petronella appeared at the head of the staircase and raced down it to throw herself into the other man’s arms.

‘Oh, Algie, darling! You’ve found me! I knew you wouldn’t leave me to moulder in this rotten place! Darling, darling, Algie! We’re together once more—and no one will ever be able to part us again!’