“Returned for what?” Jack asked.
“Maybe Sean killed Nicky,” Kate said. “Returned, fixed the brakes on Nicky’s car, then Sean was killed by Mrs. Aiken. She and Bertie hid the body.”
“It seems everyone had the opportunity,” Sara said. “And lots of little reasons but—”
“What does that mean?” Jack asked. “‘Little’ reasons?”
“Jealously,” Sara said. “You love her more than me, that sort of thing. But what about big reasons, like ownership of this place?”
“It was falling down. Who wanted it?” Jack knew about the expense and agony of renovating.
“Maybe Nadine,” Sara said. “Or certainly her father. He was a success in business but was looked down on for his lowly origins.”
“Diana was going to marry for it. Maybe Sean threatened that,” Kate said.
“Clive,” Jack said. “He felt he deserved Oxley Manor. As for that, why didn’t he inherit when Nicky died?”
“Byon said Clive wasn’t in the line of succession,” Kate said.
“The best ol’ Clive could hope for was to marry rich, bland, kind of creepy Willa,” Jack said.
“That poor woman,” Sara said. “It was horrible that those two people disappeared but what really made Clive dump Willa? The disappearance didn’t affect her money. What made him change his mind?” Sara picked up her pen. “Let’s go over all this and see what we know.”
“I don’t think we know anything,” Kate said. “We have only Puck’s word and what she saw. She was a teenager and she had the serious hots for Sean. If she found out he liked someone else, maybe Puck hit him over the head with a brick.”
“Then hid his body all by her skinny self?” Jack asked.
“She knew everyone’s secrets so who wouldn’t help her?” Kate’s voice was rising. “They all wanted to avoid publicity and notoriety and—”
“They were certainly a pack of misfits,” Sara said.
“Like we are.” Jack’s words broke the tension in the air.
Sara looked around the beautiful chapel. “I vote that we make this our meeting place.”
“Suits me,” Jack said, and Kate nodded in agreement.
They halted at a sound. “Is that a car?” Jack went to a little window that was high up on the side facing the house and looked out. “It’s not a normal car. It’s a Bentley. Beautiful thing.”
The window was above the women’s heads.
“Who’s in it?” Sara asked.
Jack gave a low whistle. “A woman. Older, but she looks good. Very good. She—”
“I bet it’s Nadine,” Kate said. “Let’s get out of here and arrive from the direction of Puck’s house.”
“Jack, can you relock the door?” Sara asked.
“Easier than unlocking it. But one look at those hinges and anyone would know they’ve been used.”
“Can’t be helped.” Sara opened the side door. The old hinges made a lot of noise. They went through the trees so that when they walked across the drive, they didn’t look as though they’d come from the chapel.
But before they reached the car, Jack abruptly left them. He mumbled that he had to do something, then disappeared around the corner.
“We’re on our own,” Kate said to her aunt.
The woman was standing by the car looking up at the house. She was simply dressed in a white silk blouse, black trousers, an Hermès belt. Her earrings, Cartier watch and a simple wedding band were gold. Her skin had that well-kept look that only a life of money and leisure could achieve. She was quite a bit taller than Sara and emphasized it by looking her up and down.
“Have my bags taken to the room to the left at the top of the stairs,” she said to Sara. “I’m Lady Nadine and I’ll be in the blue drawing room. Send Mrs. Guilford to meet me.”
She was at the doorway before Sara caught up to her. “I don’t work here. I’m Sara Medlar.” She had on cotton trousers and a yellow polo shirt. They were dirty from lying on the ground around the pit.
Nadine halted, again looked Sara up and down. Obviously, the name meant nothing to her. “Oh?”
“I’m the one who invited you here.”
“Did you? Yet you don’t consider that working here? How extraordinary.”
Behind them, Kate rolled her eyes. It looked like a Bitch War was about to begin—and she wanted no part of it. She picked up Nadine’s two suitcases and paused behind the woman. “Aunt Sara writes novels and she restored this place.” Kate’s tone showed that she didn’t like Nadine’s attitude. “Nobody’s here so...” She shrugged at the suitcases, then carried them between the women and up the stairs.
The first room on the left was large and beautiful.
Kate dumped the suitcases on the stand, then started to go down to be with her aunt. Instead, she turned away. Let Aunt Sara handle the woman. Kate headed toward the attic.
Downstairs, Sara did her best to smile. “Maybe we should go upstairs and I’ll explain what’s going on.”
“If we must.” Nadine went first. Inside the room, she looked around. “It’s been changed. It’s a bit gaudy now.”
“It’s for the tourists,” Sara said. “They want everything to be more English than the Brits do.”
Nadine’s face had a hint of a frown.
Restylane or Botox? Sara wondered. Something was keeping her glower from wrinkling her face.
“You own Oxley Manor?” Nadine asked.
“No, but I did finance the restoration from the sale of my novels.”
“And what is it that you write?”
“Women’s fiction.” Sara knew it was a cop-out but if she said “historical and contemporary romance” she always—always!—got smirks and dirty looks.
But Nadine wasn’t fooled. She gave a half smile. “The ones with the lurid covers? Sold in every grocery and petrol station on the planet? Those books?”
Sara clamped her teeth together, gave a nod and wondered why she didn’t leave her room.
“How quaint.”
Sara didn’t ask permission but sat down on a chair by the bed. “I’m writing a novel that will be based on the mysterious disappearance of the two people in 1994. I’m here to research.”