“Probably lost money on one of his horses,” Sara said.
“Good guess. His report said it was a couple of runaway lovers. No foul play, no mystery.”
“But you were more astute.” If it took flattery to get him to tell, she’d write a twenty-thousand-word treatise on the beauty of his ’stache.
“Don’t mean to brag, but I was. Nicky...?” He was testing her to see if she knew the characters involved.
“The heir apparent.” She passed.
“Now, he was a real character. Wasn’t much liked in the village. He laughed at us, along with that music guy.”
“Byon.”
“Yeah, him.” He paused. “Although I do like his music. Anyway, in the book I started, I thought I might—”
She broke in before he told her his entire plot. “You liked Mr. Howland. What about his daughter?”
The officer gave a one-sided grin. “She used to race cars with the boys of the village. That girl could downshift smooth as melted butter. We used to say Mr. Howland made her heart out of a carburetor with stainless steel valves.”
“I bet Nadine was upset that night,” Sara said.
“Catatonic. Staring into space. Never said a word. I think she thought something bad had happened because she ran out to the chapel to pray. If you plan to write about this, you ought to ask her questions.”
“As one writer to another,” Sara said, “I thank you for that tip.”
The man smiled so widely she saw the fillings in his back teeth.
“What about Nicky?”
“He was a mess.”
“Upset? Crying? Angry? What?”
“No. He was bruised. A black eye. A real beaut. And his hands were red and raw.”
Sara blinked. No one had so much as hinted at this. “Did anyone ask him why?”
“Back then, you didn’t question an earl’s son. If he’d said he hurt himself picking a daisy, he would have been believed.”
“Everyone seems to forget that titles were given to the most violent, ruthless—Sorry. Did Nicky give a reason?”
“He said he’d fallen and that was it. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions of him. It was considered disrespectful.”
“What about the others?” she asked.
“They were all very quiet, like they were guilty of something. I asked a few questions but I was told to l
eave off, that they were sad at missing their friends.”
“But you didn’t believe that.”
“No. I think every one of them was up to no good.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did something happen that made you want to come here and investigate?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I helped Bella restore this place and it’s closed this month so I came to visit. And the mystery was just to keep the little gray cells going.” She hoped he caught the reference to Hercule Poirot.
“You helped restore Oxley Manor? That means money.”
Oh Lord, Sara thought. She’d put her foot in it. She took a breath. “Yes.”