nastiest explanation for Boadicea Kelling’s disappearance was that she’d gone walking in the fields and spied Rufus’s killer driving off in the Silver Ghost. Mrs. Gaheris was probably right in saying that if Bodie had seen the actual murder, she’d have been killed on the spot.
The Silver Ghost was an open tourer. The thief might have risked driving it away, knowing the locals were used to seeing the Billingsgates’ old cars out on the roads. One of those dust coats with a driving veil or cap and goggles would have disguised the driver adequately, but how could anybody dare take a corpse along for the ride? Boadicea’s body would have been hidden in the car shed, which it hadn’t, or dumped in the copse or the woods down by the drawbridge, which had also been searched without result.
A meeting out in the open was a far different matter. Trying to breeze past Boadicea with a honk and a wave would have been an act of folly that didn’t appear to fit very well with a crime so carefully prearranged. Inviting her to come aboard and silencing her later on, probably inside whatever hiding place had been prepared for the car, would be the safest thing to do. A big closed van somewhere handy, with an accomplice to drive it away and dispose of the excess baggage, was the most likely explanation. The original thief wouldn’t have risked being away from the revel too long. The state police could cope with vans a great deal more efficiently than the Bittersohns could.
“Just let me ask you all one more question. Then I’ll take my wife home and let you get some sleep,” Max said. “Since you’ve been holding these revels as a yearly event, I expect you’ve found they more or less fall into a pattern. I realize this one went haywire at the end, but most of your guests probably went away thinking everything was pretty much as usual. Is that right? Aside from what happened at the car shed, were there any major surprises?”
“Well, I was pretty surprised when Chad turned up instead of Sal,” said Tick.
“And I’m surprised Sarah managed to pin Versey’s ears back,” Melisande giggled. “I wish I’d been a bee on a bush when that happened.”
“Now, Melly,” chided her father, though not without a slight twitching of his own lip, “Vercingetorix Ufford is an old and valued colleague.”
“Colleague?” Sarah was surprised. “I thought he was a professor.”
“That’s true. He still lectures occasionally, but he also does some of the programming for our radio stations, such as choosing the music and writing the scripts for our ‘Renaissance Ruminations’ series. He even had a program of his own for a while, doing readings from the early poets, notably Chaucer and Spenser.”
“The listeners adored it,” drawled Tick, “all three of them. How did you tangle with Versey, Sarah? Was he lurking in the bushes, waiting to pounce on the first toothsome wench who came along?”
“Nothing surprising about that,” said Melisande. “He always lurks.”
Sarah gave her a wry smile. “Oh dear, another illusion shattered. He said he’d followed me all the way from the pavilion because none of the other women came up to his specifications.”
“That’s what he always says, the old beast. He said it to me the year I was eighteen. I couldn’t think of a snappy comeback and got stuck for two courantes and the galliard.”
“Don’t be too hard on Versey, girls,” said Abigail. “He does the best he can with what little he has to work with. Let’ see, Max. Drusilla’s being here is unusual, but that’s only because she’s been away so long. And it’s no surprise, we’d been expecting her for the past two months. Do you know, the most surprising thing I can think of is that all the frumenty got eaten.”
“Mother, you don’t mean it,” cried Melisande.
“I do so. They even scraped the bowl. Cook couldn’t believe it when I showed her. She’s terribly embarrassed at not making enough, poor
The Silver Ghost was an open tourer. The thief might have risked driving it away, knowing the locals were used to seeing the Billingsgates’ old cars out on the roads. One of those dust coats with a driving veil or cap and goggles would have disguised the driver adequately, but how could anybody dare take a corpse along for the ride? Boadicea’s body would have been hidden in the car shed, which it hadn’t, or dumped in the copse or the woods down by the drawbridge, which had also been searched without result.
A meeting out in the open was a far different matter. Trying to breeze past Boadicea with a honk and a wave would have been an act of folly that didn’t appear to fit very well with a crime so carefully prearranged. Inviting her to come aboard and silencing her later on, probably inside whatever hiding place had been prepared for the car, would be the safest thing to do. A big closed van somewhere handy, with an accomplice to drive it away and dispose of the excess baggage, was the most likely explanation. The original thief wouldn’t have risked being away from the revel too long. The state police could cope with vans a great deal more efficiently than the Bittersohns could.
“Just let me ask you all one more question. Then I’ll take my wife home and let you get some sleep,” Max said. “Since you’ve been holding these revels as a yearly event, I expect you’ve found they more or less fall into a pattern. I realize this one went haywire at the end, but most of your guests probably went away thinking everything was pretty much as usual. Is that right? Aside from what happened at the car shed, were there any major surprises?”
“Well, I was pretty surprised when Chad turned up instead of Sal,” said Tick.
“And I’m surprised Sarah managed to pin Versey’s ears back,” Melisande giggled. “I wish I’d been a bee on a bush when that happened.”
“Now, Melly,” chided her father, though not without a slight twitching of his own lip, “Vercingetorix Ufford is an old and valued colleague.”
“Colleague?” Sarah was surprised. “I thought he was a professor.”
“That’s true. He still lectures occasionally, but he also does some of the programming for our radio stations, such as choosing the music and writing the scripts for our ‘Renaissance Ruminations’ series. He even had a program of his own for a while, doing readings from the early poets, notably Chaucer and Spenser.”
“The listeners adored it,” drawled Tick, “all three of them. How did you tangle with Versey, Sarah? Was he lurking in the bushes, waiting to pounce on the first toothsome wench who came along?”
“Nothing surprising about that,” said Melisande. “He always lurks.”
Sarah gave her a wry smile. “Oh dear, another illusion shattered. He said he’d followed me all the way from the pavilion because none of the other women came up to his specifications.”
“That’s what he always says, the old beast. He said it to me the year I was eighteen. I couldn’t think of a snappy comeback and got stuck for two courantes and the galliard.”
“Don’t be too hard on Versey, girls,” said Abigail. “He does the best he can with what little he has to work with. Let’ see, Max. Drusilla’s being here is unusual, but that’s only because she’s been away so long. And it’s no surprise, we’d been expecting her for the past two months. Do you know, the most surprising thing I can think of is that all the frumenty got eaten.”
“Mother, you don’t mean it,” cried Melisande.
“I do so. They even scraped the bowl. Cook couldn’t believe it when I showed her. She’s terribly embarrassed at not making enough, poor
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