Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)
By: Rhys Bowen
“Nothing like that, Major. I’m so sorry to disturb you, but it is indeed crucial,” I said. “There is something that you must see. If you’d kindly come with me.” I turned to the maid, who was still hovering in the doorway. “Thank you. You may go now.”
As the maid departed with a look of relief, Major B-C looked at me questioningly. “You’re lucky to find me at home. I only just returned a moment ago from my monthly regimental dinner. In fact the maid just caught me letting myself into my apartment. Now out with it. What is it that’s troubling you?”
“Please follow me,” I said and walked resolutely toward the front door. The major followed.
“Where on earth are we going?” he asked as I stepped out into darkness.
“I have to show you something.”
Now that there was no Daimler with headlights shining, it was pitch-black outside.
“Is this some sort of prank?” he asked.
“No prank, I assure you, Major. This way, please.”
I felt my way over the cobbles until I could just make out the archway beneath the clock tower. Strangely it had been light enough for me to spot the body instantly before but this time I almost stumbled upon it before I picked out a vague hint of whiteness.
“What on earth is that?” Major B-C demanded, his voice now taut.
“It’s a body,” I replied and my voice bounced back, alarmingly loud as it echoed from the cobbles and vaulted arch above. “A young woman. She’s dead. I’m afraid she might have been murdered.”
“Good God,” he said, bending forward to peer more closely at the body. “Is it one of the maids?”
“No, she’s dressed in a white silk evening gown. I’ve no idea who she is.”
“Are we sure that she’s dead? She might have been drinking too much at a party and lost her way in the dark and collapsed here.” He bent down even farther to examine her.
“Oh, I’m sure she’s dead. Look at her face.” I shuddered.
He was kneeling on the damp cobbles beside her, felt for a pulse, then got hurriedly to his feet. “I’ll go and find a torch,” he said. “You come back into the house. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
I followed him as he walked briskly back into the building. I waited in the foyer, hugging my fur stole around me, as I was suddenly extremely cold. He seemed to take forever. At last he returned carrying a large silvery flashlight.
“It wasn’t easy explaining why I wanted this without raising curiosity,” he said. “It required some quick thinking.”
I followed him back to the archway. He shone the torch onto the dead girl.
“My God.” I heard his sharp intake of breath. He looked around. “We should move her out of sight as soon as possible.”
“You can’t do that,” I said. “This is a crime scene. We must stay with her until the police get here.”
“My dear girl,” he said, forgetting to use my correct title, “we can’t just call the police. I don’t think you realize the delicate nature of this situation.” He moved closer to me, even though we were alone in a dark courtyard. “You say you didn’t recognize her. I rather fear most people would. This is, or rather, was, Bobo Carrington. Surely you’ve heard of her? Her photographs are splashed all over the picture papers.”
“I may have seen them,” I said tentatively.
“She’s a well-known socialite and partygoer and also at one stage her name was linked with Prince George.”
“Oh crikey,” I said, too shocked to worry about schoolgirl expressions and the need to sound sophisticated.
“So now you see,” he said. “We can’t just call the police. If any word gets out, any hint to the press, it would ruin everything. The scandal would be horrendous. The marriage could never take place.”
I nodded. I did see, all too clearly.
“But we shouldn’t move her,” I said. “There are bound to be clues, pieces of evidence.”
“I have a dark gray blanket on my bed,” he said. “We could cover her with that until morning. But something will have to be done before the first grounds staff pass this way.” He looked up at the building, frowning. “Luckily there aren’t many windows that look onto this courtyard. One up in Princess Louise’s apartment, but she usually goes to bed early and I believe it’s a bedroom that is not used. And the one on the second floor of your apartment with the light still on is surely your own room.”
“Yes, it must be,” I said.
“Might your maid have looked out of the window?”
“It’s possible. But she’s quite susceptible and already finds the place rather spooky. If she mentions anything I’ll tell her about Princess Sophia’s ghost.”
“Good girl.” He smiled at me.
“So I’ll go and get the blanket to cover her and I suggest you go inside and have someone bring you a brandy. You’ll need it for shock and it’s devilish cold out here. You don’t want to come down with a chill.”
I was going to tell him that I’d been involved in murder cases before and I was strong enough to help him, but I realized I did feel quite shivery.
“If you’re sure there is nothing more I can do?”