T Kinsey - In the Market for Murder (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery Book 2)

‘Which would seem to indicate that it was one of them,’ said the inspector.

‘It would,’ she said. ‘I was stuck on that for a good long time. I felt so utterly, utterly foolish when I realized that the most important clue had been on the floor outside the room all along. It was one of the first things we saw. The burglar stood on tiptoes to look through the window. We could see the prints most clearly on the passage floor where he had turned, raised himself up, and then doubled back to enter the room. He wasn’t a tall man, at all. He was a short man wearing big boots.’

‘So by that reasoning, it had to be Tribley or Meaker, the two shorter men,’ he said.

‘Exactly so. It was when I made the connection with Winnie Marsh that it all fell into place. Armstrong said the farmers had been talking about “Dennis Marsh’s daughter” when she overheard them in the Dog and Duck one day.’

‘It’s all a bit circumstantial,’ said the inspector as he wrote. ‘I’m not sure there’s anything we can charge him with, either. Still, it all fits together and it helps to paint a pretty good picture.’

‘Well done, ladies,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud. ‘Hector! More brandy!’

It was early evening by the time we declined their kind offer of a lift home.

‘It’s fine, darling,’ said Lady Hardcastle, kissing our hosts goodbye. ‘It’s a pleasant evening and the walk will do us good.’

We walked down the hill and back to the house. There was a small parcel on the doorstep.

‘We ought to write to Jasper Laxton and ask him to name his house, you know,’ said Lady Hardcastle as we removed our outerwear in the hall. ‘We can’t really go on calling it “The House” but since we’re only renting the place it doesn’t seem right to name it ourselves.’

‘What would you call it, my lady?’ I said, hanging up her coat.

‘Oh, I don’t know. “Dunspyin”?’

I laughed. ‘I’m not sure Mr Laxton would approve.’

‘No, dear, I don’t suppose he would. Then again, he’s in India so it would be simply ages before he found out.’

‘I think “The House” will have to do for now, then, my lady. Will you be wanting any supper?’

‘Oh, I hadn’t thought. Perhaps some more sandwiches? Would you be a pet and make us some while I find out what’s in this parcel?’

She followed me into the kitchen, picking at the string that fastened the package.

After some fiddling and a healthy amount of colourful swearing, she managed to remove the string and brown paper to reveal a sturdy cardboard box. She lifted the lid and there, wrapped in tissue paper, was a leather driving helmet and a pair of expensive-looking goggles. She took out the note that had been lying on top of the strange gift.

‘Dear Sis,’ she read aloud. ‘How the devil are you, old girl? Sorry I’ve not been down to see you, but how about we put that right? I hear by the clothes-line telegraph that you’ve recently taken up driving. It just so happens that my old chum Fishy Codrington is a bit of a devotee of the automotive arts himself. Guess what! He’s built himself a racing circuit. You’ve heard of Brooklands? Well, it’s nothing quite so grand as that, but it gave him the idea, and he’s paved over half the family estate in Rutland to make a course for him and his chums. He’s invited me along for a few days and he said I could bring a guest. Do you fancy it? Obviously you can bring whatshername and we can all have a jolly time together. You might need the enclosed – I told Fishy you were both excellent drivers. Reply soonest. All my love, Harry.’

She held up the helmet and goggles.

‘Good old Harry,’ I said. ‘Do you fancy it? I’d been hoping we might get to the seaside, but this certainly sounds like fun.’

‘Just the sort of fun we need,’ she said, the glint of competition in her eye. ‘I’ll write back at once. And after that, cards. We haven’t played cards for simply ever.’

‘Right you are, my lady.’

‘And more brandy. We can’t possibly play cards without brandy.’

I laughed. ‘Is there anything we can do without brandy?’

‘Very little, I find, very little.’

About the Author

T E Kinsey grew up in London and read history at Bristol University. He worked for a number of years as a magazine features writer before falling into the glamorous world of the Internet, where he edited content for a very famous entertainment website for quite a few years more. After helping to raise three children, learning to scuba dive and to play the drums and the mandolin (though never, disappointingly, all at the same time), he decided the time was right to get back to writing. In the Market for Murder is the second in a series of mysteries starring Lady Hardcastle.

You can follow him on Twitter – @tekinsey – and also find him on Facebook: www.facebook.com/tekinsey.