Malice at the Palace (The Royal Spyness Series Book 9)

 

I leaned forward in my chair. “Picture this, Chief Inspector. Bobo comes to the front door, demanding to see Princess Marina. Perhaps she has decided to come clean and tell Marina the truth about her and the prince. Perhaps her motive is not as pure and she wants money to stay mum about her story. But Princess Marina is not home so she tells the countess instead. And the countess decides she must not be allowed to leave. She puts Marina’s sleeping drops in the coffee and then finishes Bobo off by suffocating her.” I paused, then went on, “And she has all the time in the world because the servants find her disagreeable and are keeping well away.”

 

There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the loud tick of his clock on the wall. Then he nodded. “As you say, it does make sense.”

 

“While I, on the other hand, possess no Veronal and only discovered that Princess Marina uses it when the subject came up in conversation yesterday. So you have the motive, the knowledge of where to find Veronal, and a wet jacket. I’d say that adds up to something pretty compelling. And—” I paused again. Really, I should have become a barrister. I was rather pleased with myself. “She is so rattled that you are getting near to the truth that she tries to claim she saw me in the courtyard. She is jealous of me, Chief Inspector, because I have been assigned to be the princess’s companion. And as you just said, jealousy is the most compelling of motives.”

 

Another long pause. “You do make a good case, Lady Georgiana,” he said grudgingly. “And I have to admit that it seems most likely that Miss Carrington was killed after your departure for Buckingham Palace.”

 

“And actually my maid was helping me to dress until I went down to join Princess Marina,” I said. “I don’t believe there was a moment when I was alone, which I’m sure the others can verify.”

 

“Which still leaves us with Mr. O’Mara,” he said. “Given his close ties to the murdered girl and the fact that he has been so devilishly hard to find. Almost as if he’d gone into hiding.”

 

“Mr. O’Mara is always hard to find,” I said. “He has no London address. He never has a forwarding address. But I’m sure you can ask Sir Jeremy. He knows more about Mr. O’Mara than I do, apparently.” I stood up. “And if there is nothing else, I take it I have your permission to go now?”

 

“Yes, I see no reason to detain you further at this stage,” he said. “After all, we know where to find you until the wedding, don’t we? And if the countess divulges anything else that might be of interest to us, you will let us know, won’t you?”

 

I laughed. “One minute I’m the prime suspect, the next I’m working undercover for the police.”

 

It was his turn to give an uneasy chuckle. “Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as prime suspect, Lady Georgiana. You were just helping us with our inquiries.” He paused as I stood up. “We may need to chat again at some stage. I suspect you know more than you’re saying about this Mr. O’Mara. He’s definitely not off the hook yet. I think he’s a bit of a slippery customer. No known means of income but he lives well enough, moves in the right circles. When we start probing a bit deeper I think it may come out that he has connections to the underworld, possibly drug trafficking. So if you want my advice, I’d say you were well rid of him, Lady Georgiana.”

 

I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t want his advice if he was the last person on the planet, but I didn’t dare open my mouth, afraid I’d let myself down. There was no way I was going to let the obnoxious chief inspector know how much Darcy had meant to me. This time I did not stride out ahead of my escorting policeman. I stumbled blindly behind him because I had realized that DCI Pelham had said something that made sense. Links to the underworld, possible drug trafficking. So that was how Darcy managed to survive. That was how Darcy was so thick with Bobo Carrington—the girl with the silver syringe. That was why he popped off so frequently to South America. He was involved in the buying and selling of drugs.

 

I felt physically sick. My mother and Belinda were always telling me how na?ve I was. And it was true. Brought up sheltered in the wilds of Scotland, how could I possibly know how to be aware of things like drugs? It seemed that Darcy had deceived me on every possible level. Perhaps he even had killed Bobo Carrington because she was becoming a nuisance or had threatened to tell the police about his activities. As DCI Pelham had said, I was well out of it. A lucky escape. I could have been married to a dangerous criminal—a dangerous criminal who would be unfaithful to me and break my heart. I would do as Fig had suggested and try to meet a suitable member of European royalty at the wedding. Then I would live as my family expected me to, doing the right thing, producing the heir . . . but with a great empty hole in my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 23