Wedding Rows by Kate Kingsbury

“Well, they hadn’t seen each other in thirty years. I’m sure they both must have changed in that time. Anyway, I must be off. Violet will be getting supper and I don’t want to be late. Oh, before I go, could you let me have the address of the photographer. Dickie Muggins, I believe?”
    “Yes, m’m. I have it right here in my handbag. Just a minute.” Bessie bustled across the kitchen to a tall cupboard and opened it. She came bag with a large black handbag tucked under her arm. “He’s a good photographer, m’m. I’ve seen some of his photographs. Lovely they are. He’s a bit of a fusspot, and some people make fun of him for it, but he knows what he’s doing all right, I’ll say that for him.”
    Thank you, Bessie.” Elizabeth took the neatly inscribed card from Bessie and tucked it in her pocket. “I’ll let you have it back next time I visit the tea shop.”
    “Oh, no need, your ladyship. I have some more. Dickie’s mother gave them to me. He’s just started his business, and he’s looking for more clients. He’ll be pleased to hear from you, I’m sure.”
    Elizabeth rather doubted that. She wasn’t looking to hire him, but merely ask him a few questions. She didn’t see the need to tell Bessie that, however.
    She left the hall deep in thought and returned to the manor, convinced now that Tess had not killed Brian Sutcliffe. The girl had no reason to lie about leaving the key in the lock. Moreover, if she was telling the truth she’d heard Brian pounding on the door when she left, which meant he was still alive at that point.
    Someone else must have removed the key from the cellar door. It seemed reasonable to assume that that person did so to delay the discovery of the body. Someone could have heard Brian pounding on the door, unlocked it, and confronted an angry man with a knife in his hand. What then? Reacted without thinking and pushed him down the stairs, causing him to fall on the knife, as Tess had surmised? Or had someone taken the opportunity to get rid of a man who was causing more trouble than was bearable?
    A milk jug full of milk seemed an odd place to hide a key. But what if the killer intended to hide it on the shelf? Then, unnerved and in a hurry to leave, stretched out to reach the shelf and fumbled the key, dropping it into the milk jug. That made a lot more sense.
    Tess was far too short to even think about reaching the shelf. Rodney, on the other hand, could have managed it. Rodney, who hated Brian Sutcliffe and would protect his daughter at any cost.
    Seated on the white wicker couch in her conservatory, Elizabeth gave the matter some intense thought. Could she be mistaken about Rodney, after all? She kept hearing Daphne’s shocked tones when she’d heard the news. My God, Rodney. What have you done?
    He had denied it, of course. But his denials, like his concern about his daughter’s possible guilt, could have been fabricated for her benefit. She would have to talk to him again. Though she could hardly accuse him of murder without some kind of proof or justification.
    Sighing, she withdrew the paper she’d tucked into her pocket earlier and studied it. Neville Carbunkle had mentioned he’d seen Dickie Muggins in the kitchen arguing with Brian. She was anxious to talk to the photographer, but it would have to wait until tomorrow. Until then, she’d hold her judgment on Rodney, in the hopes that Mr. Muggins could shed new light on the puzzle.
    Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, she noticed with some surprise that it was long past the time when Violet usually rang the bell for supper. Violet was never late with the meals. Unless she was ill.
    Concerned, Elizabeth rose to her feet and hurried to the kitchen. Her anxiety deepened when she opened the door and no smell of cooking greeted her. In fact, the kitchen was as neat and clean as Violet usually left it last thing at night.
    Frowning, Elizabeth headed for the pantry, expecting to find her housekeeper rummaging