A Homicide at Halloween: Mrs. Lillywhite Investigates, #11

A HOMICIDE AT HALLOWEEN

Emily Queen

A HOMICIDE AT HALLOWEEN

Copyright © 2023 by Emily Queen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or institutions is purely coincidental.

PROLOGUE

Rosemary wet her lips and tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed firmly on the winding country road ahead. She felt the thrill of the drive sink into her bones and pressed on, the scenery becoming a wash of bright blues, greens, and yellows. The road swooped and curved beneath the tires, and soon, she was completely enveloped in the beauty of nature. In an effortless motion, Rosemary downshifted, took a corner sharply, and then accelerated again, feeling her long blond hair blowing wildly in the wind.

A glance in the rear-view mirror showed her brother, Frederick, his golden locks also mussed, and her beau, Max, each becoming more white-knuckled with every twist and turn. Amused, Rosemary pushed the speedster harder still, a wild thrill coursing through her veins. Her best friend and sister-in-law, Vera, sat beside her, utterly unfazed. Beneath a smart little cap, even Vera’s short crop of bobbed hair remained unruffled by the wind.

The car, its rumbling engine sounding to Rosemary like the purr of a contented kitten, she’d recently purchased on a whim. Frederick had admonished her, insisting that his wife would now surely crave for one herself, but secretly, he’d been impressed by his sister’s spontaneity. Now, however, he looked like he wanted to strangle her, which was an expression Rosemary knew quite well.

What’s troubling you, Freddie? You look a little green, she prodded merrily.

Frederick snorted. Well then, sister dear, that makes two of us. If you ask me, envy towards our new American friend and her car collection prompted this purchase. Unless you mean to tell me you’ve always possessed the urge to race through the countryside like a bat out of hell?

With a narrow-eyed glare, Rosemary jerked the gearstick into place and took the pedal to the floor. The throaty rev of the car’s engine answered her call, and it surged ahead. She didn’t waste her breath replying to Frederick’s comment, mostly because there was a kernel of truth in it. The friend he referred to, Imogene, was a single, independent woman who carried a pistol, drove a convertible, and didn’t take flack from anyone. Who wouldn’t admire that kind of spunk and panache?

Even so, Rosemary couldn’t help wanting to have the last word, so a split second before the sleek, cherry-red speedster crested the next hill, she took her foot off the gas and enjoyed the pleasant feeling of weightlessness for one long moment.

Oh! From the passenger seat, Vera squealed with glee, bringing a vision of a much younger version of her to Rosemary’s mind. That was exhilarating!

Frederick and Max, both looking a bit worse for the wear, disagreed, and since Rosemary didn’t fancy the notion of them sicking up in her new car, she mercifully reduced her speed and began to motor along at a more sedate pace.

When Vera mentioned her next acting job, Max became distracted, his expression finally shifting from concern to interest.

It’s a murder mystery weekend, she explained, eyes twinkling. Our first performance is in two weeks, and it’s to be held at Ravenstone Castle. You and Max will come, won’t you? she implored Rosemary. Freddie, my supposed doting husband, is abandoning me. Vera’s bottom lip jutted out just a bit, and she cast a forlorn glance in his direction.

We had a good run, dear, Frederick replied with a merry wink. He had always been a jolly sort; it was part of his charm, and his romance with Vera had only further heightened his spirits. I’ve got business to tend to, and the gentlemen from Brussels don’t give a fig if it’s Halloween weekend.

Not to mention, nobody else stands a chance at solving a fake murder with two authentic sleuths around. Frederick grinned and jerked a thumb towards Max and Rosemary.

Vera’s eyes tilted skyward, but she could hardly argue with that logic. Well? Will you come? she prodded.

In the mirror, Max and Rosemary exchanged a glance. You’ve got to explain to Max how the whole thing works. I’m not certain I fully understand myself.

Her enthusiasm rising to a dramatic crescendo, Vera turned all the way around in her seat. Prepare yourself for a weekend of enigma and intrigue! We’re calling it an immersive theater experience. Rather than watching the events play out on stage, you’ll be part of the performance, interacting with the actors. There’s a general story, of course, but there’s quite a bit of improvisational work.

Vera practically salivated at the notion.

Quite an intriguing prospect, Max admitted thoughtfully.

It almost doesn’t seem fair to bring along a CID detective and a lady sleuth with a pile of solved cases, Frederick commented with a raised brow. They’ll likely have the whole thing solved before dinner on Friday evening!

Vera scoffed, I’ll have you know the plot is based on a play written by a new female author who’s being touted as the next Arthur Conan Doyle, so perhaps it won’t be as simple as you think!

Being possessed with more than fluff betwixt his ears, Frederick knew better than to make any sort of comment regarding the female playwright and said only, At least this time, none of the victims will actually be dead. That ought to take the pressure off, don’t you think? He jabbed an elbow in Max’s direction.

Rosemary’s nostrils flared, and she treated her brother to an exasperated frown, but Max merely smiled wryly at the comment. Rosemary’s gaze stayed trained on the reflection of his face while Vera waxed on about the weekend, noting that he seemed content to remain silent and pensive throughout. As much as she admired his easygoing nature, she wished she could divine from his expression some clue to his thoughts.

Upon return from her extended American holiday, Rosemary was disturbed to discover her relationship with Max had come to something of a standstill. She began to feel as though his feelings had cooled during her absence and, after an inordinate amount of thought, realized the rift may have begun to form even before her departure.

Was it the stress of courting his dearly departed best mate’s widow that had caused Max to pull away? Or her propensity for interfering with his murder investigations? Either of those obstacles might have been enough to end the relationship, but throw in a romantic rival, and perhaps Max had simply hit his limit.

When Rosemary informed Max that Frederick’s childhood chum, Desmond Cooper, would be along for the holiday, he hadn’t been thrilled. It hadn’t been so long since Desmond and Max had been in stiff competition for her affection. She had made her choice, with Max coming out as the clear winner, but couldn’t help wondering if Max still questioned her loyalty.

The timing, Rosemary thought, was ironic, given that although she had, indeed, admired her American friend Imogene’s independent lifestyle, the experience served as a reminder of how badly she wanted Max in her life.

Perhaps she’d finally pushed him too far.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Vera, who was busy extolling the virtues of Ravenstone Castle and all that it had to offer. It’s absolutely marvelous, she enthused. The grounds are sprawling, and the castle itself is massive. What do you say?

In the mirror, Max nodded in agreement.

Yes, Vera, you can count us in, Rosemary said with a smile.

Feeling a wave of relief wash over her, she pressed the brake and turned the car around, heading back towards London. The rolling hills of the countryside flew past as they sped along, but Rosemary no longer noticed. Instead, she watched Max out of the corner of her eye and felt excitement bubble up within her.

Could this murder mystery weekend be an opportunity to rekindle their romance?

If it did, Rosemary decided she would owe Vera a debt of gratitude, and she knew exactly how she would repay it - by convincing Freddie his wife ought to have a matching speedster!

CHAPTER ONE

Halloween weekend arrived soon enough, and back in London, Rosemary’s townhouse was abuzz with preparations. Her little German Spitz, Dash, trotted around, carefully monitoring the proceedings. The butler, Wadsworth, and ladies’ maid, Anna, both more than mere servants, had to shoo him out of the way more than once, but Dash refused to be deterred. Finally, Rosemary picked him up underneath her arm and scratched beneath his chin until he settled.

You seem positively chuffed by the notion of my absence, Rosemary admonished mock-seriously when, at the mention of her imminent departure, she noticed a rare smile flit across Wadsworth’s usually stony face. Are you two intending to throw a raucous Halloween party while I’m away?

Of course not, madam, Wadsworth said disapprovingly, stiffening at the thought.

Rosemary smiled fondly in his direction. Never lose your sense of humor, Wadsworth.

Anna suppressed a smile and explained, He’s over the moon about the chance to deep clean the kitchen, reorganize the cupboards, and polish the silver without disturbing the household.

I don’t expect you lot to understand the appeal of an orderly home, nor do I find it necessary to defend myself, Wadsworth replied somewhat cheekily, proving that he did possess some whimsy beneath his buttoned-up exterior.

He’s got piles of chores for everyone, Anna lamented when the butler had excused himself to take Dash out for a walk. Which, of course, I’m happy to do, she added hastily.

Rosemary waved a hand. There’s no need to pretend you wouldn’t rather spend time with your young gentleman, dear girl.

Talk turned to Anna’s impending nuptials, a topic that had been discussed at length on the daily for weeks but of which she never seemed to tire. Rosemary had agreed to host the event in her back garden and was so distracted by talk of the preparations that when the telephone bell jingled, she answered with an uncharacteristically clipped, Hello.

My heavens, Rosemary, is that any way to greet callers? Evelyn Woolridge demanded. What if I was someone even more important than myself?

Such as whom, Mother? The pope? Rosemary replied with a sigh. Her mother tended to be dramatic over the most trivial topics, telephone etiquette being no exception. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and noted that it was nearly time for Max to arrive.

No need to be smart, dear, Evelyn huffed. I’m simply reminding you that you have a duty to act with decorum in all situations.

Yes, Mother, Rosemary said with another sigh, wondering when, precisely, she had made a blood oath to that effect.

When the front door opened and Vera pressed inside, Rosemary’s spirits brightened, but they darkened again when she got a look at her friend’s face, which was an even darker shade of green than Frederick’s had been while riding in the speedster.

Vera, good heavens, you look dreadful! Rosemary exclaimed, ignoring her mother on the other end of the telephone line. With an exasperated glare, Vera lurched into the powder room, and Rosemary reluctantly returned to the call.

What is the matter with Vera? Evelyn demanded, her voice even tighter than it had been before and filled with worry.

It had taken quite a while for Evelyn to accept Vera as Frederick’s chosen wife, given she’d been meant to marry their older brother Lionel before he died in the war. Evelyn’s opinion had come full circle, although Rosemary had a feeling the detente wouldn’t last long, as they rarely did.

Just a touch of the collywobbles, I think, she assured her mother.

Evelyn was silent for a short moment before asking, She’s feeling queasy? You don’t suppose she’s..?

Mother! Rosemary exclaimed, then lowered her voice to a hiss. Your mind only has one track, doesn’t it? Do yourself a favor, and don’t ask her that question outright. Before Evelyn could say another word, Rosemary begged off. I’m sorry, but I really must be going. I’ll ring you next week. Goodbye.

She hung up the phone and waited for Vera to return from the powder room. When she did, Rosemary appraised her friend with a critical eye. Are you quite all right?

Vera’s head whipped up sharply, and it only took a moment for her to realize what Rosemary was asking.

No, I’m not with child, she said through gritted teeth, though her cheeks reddened at the suggestion. Why do people keep asking me that? I’m merely coming down with a cold.

She patted Vera’s shoulder sympathetically. Better me than my mother asking, wouldn’t you agree?

Only marginally, Rosie, Vera retorted impatiently. Now, can we please hurry along? I’ll need plenty of time to get into makeup, and the guests are supposed to arrive at noon.

You don’t think, perhaps, that you ought to...? Rosemary trailed off before suggesting it might be more prudent to stay home in bed.

Vera coughed into her handkerchief and waved away the concern. You know me; I’ll muddle through. Rosemary could see that there was no changing Vera’s mind. Her friend was far too driven to let a little cough get in the way of such a unique opportunity.

Max is on his way to fetch us. We’ve plenty of time. Rosemary’s assurances did nothing to reduce the tension evident on Vera’s face. What’s really wrong? she pressed. You know how my mother is; simply ignore her. She won’t go away, of course, but you won’t collect as many wrinkles between your eyebrows.

With a sigh, Vera explained, I simply don’t want to feel pressured to procreate on someone else’s timetable. Just because our mothers started young doesn’t mean we have to. There’s plenty more to life, she trailed off.

Rosemary had recently begun to suspect that Vera’s protestations were a cover, perhaps for something Vera wasn’t yet ready to face. Of course, there is, but wanting a family doesn’t make one any less of a revolutionary, Vera. The point of the struggle has always been to make our own decisions. Don’t let your ideals become so big they obliterate your desires.

Vera didn’t appear to have a retort for that, but her expression turned pensive as she watched Rosemary fix her hair in the entrance hall mirror. What about you, Rosie? What are your desires these days? Still set on Max, or are you having second thoughts?

Now it was Rosemary’s turn to sigh. She blotted the lipstick she’d just applied on a piece of tissue and said, We’ve been on a handful of outings since my return from the States, but I can’t help feeling like he’s holding me at arm’s length. Perhaps he’s changed his mind about me altogether. How can one tell with men?

Here’s a novel idea: Why don’t you simply ask him? Vera replied.

Don’t you think that takes away from the romance? When Andrew was courting me, there was no such muddiness. I was smitten and quite positive he felt the same way. Furthermore, she’d been certain marrying him would bring her a lifetime of happiness, and it had—unfortunately, the lifetime in question was Andrew’s, and it had been cut tragically short. I suppose I can’t reasonably expect to have been blessed with two perfect men, one right after the other. Particularly not before I’ve even turned thirty!

A sharp snort escaped from Vera, causing Rosemary’s head to whip around. You must know that’s an asinine thing to say, don’t you? It’s time to remove those rose-colored glasses. Have you honestly forgotten the negative aspects of your late husband and the marriage you shared? Because while I know you adored Andrew, as we all did, you’re delusional if you believe things were always perfect. Perhaps that is what Max is responding to.

Rosemary wanted nothing more than to deny Vera’s suggestion but found the words caught in her throat. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut and wondered if her friend was right. Since his passing, she’d been unable to speak a bad word about Andrew.

And yet, she knew they’d had their fair share of arguments, but without him, all points had become moot. What good would it do to dwell in the past?

Surely, Max understood that, didn’t he?

CHAPTER TWO

Rosemary agreed to allow Max to drive her and Vera to Ravenstone Castle in his car. Her new speedster simply wasn’t large enough to transport the three of them and all of Vera’s luggage.

With her fingers entwined with Max’s on the seat between them, Rosemary felt more carefree than she had in months. For once, she was headed to a place where she expected to encounter murder and mystery, instead of how it usually happened when the dead bodies took her by surprise!

So content was she, in fact, that Rosemary hardly noticed how quiet Vera had been until she let out a sneeze that practically rattled the car’s windscreen.

Are you quite all right? Max asked, concerned and wholly unaware of the