Page 23 of The Perfect Guests
Sadie smooths the tablecloth in front of her. She’s tempted to blurt out,Did you cut the telephone wire, Colonel Otter?but she senses the feeble joke would worsen Joe’s mood, and she’s keen to get thegame back on track so they can all start enjoying themselves. The waiter returns with the freshly restocked trolley, and Sadie excuses herself from the table and walks to the window. She parts the thick curtains and peers out at the faintly lit gravel. The chauffeur-driven cars have all gone, unsurprisingly, but two ordinary-looking cars sit over in the shadows by the stable block.
We can drive to the village for help if we need to,she thinks, and then she smiles at herself for letting Joe’s discovery unsettle her. Of course, they won’t need to go for help—she’s being ridiculous. It must be the fish eyes that have made her jumpy. She lets the curtains fall back and returns to the table.
Their second course looks more appetizing: panfried partridge breasts with celeriac chips. Nazleen makes a show of pulling out the next game card, and again, she pauses for the photographer to take some pictures. Then she lifts her chin and waits for her six dinner party guests to give her their full attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Nazleen says, “I, myself, heard footsteps approaching and leaving my husband’s study on two separate occasions this afternoon. Either one of them might have been the person who delivered the envelope to Lord Nightingale.”
“Ifwe’re to believe you,” Zach says, but he’s smiling, waiting for Nazleen to tell them more.
“One set of footsteps belonged to a woman,” Nazleen continues. “Clearly high heels. The other must have been a man’s—they were heavy, like boots...”
Genevieve rolls her eyes as if she’s struggling not to protest at the wording. Sadie shoots Nazleen an encouraging smile. Yes, the company could do with a more politically correct writer, but it’s good to gain new clues, and Sadie would dearly love to be the guest who solves this mystery—why shouldn’t she be the winner? And besides, what if Nazleen is secretly assessing Sadie’s and Genevieve’sperformances tonight? Sadie doesn’t want to damage her chances of being reemployed by this company, and she certainly doesn’t want to put tomorrow’s paycheck in jeopardy.
“What else can you tell us?” Sadie asks.
Nazleen gestures around the table. “It’s up to all of you, now. You need to ask one another more questions...”
Sadie turns immediately to Zach. “Were you wearing men’s shoes when you left the library?”
Too late, she realizes this wasn’t the right question, and she flinches as a ripple of laughter passes through the other guests. Even Mrs. Shrew’s lips twitch, and Nazleen gives Sadie a surprisingly grateful look. For the first time, there’s a real feeling of camaraderie in the room, and Sadie feels mildly astonished that she was the one to create it.
“I’m afraid not,” Zach says. “I was wearing pink stilettos.”
“I was so surprised when I saw him,” Joe says, “I almost dropped the envelope I was carrying.” They all laugh again. “Joke!” Joe adds. “Joke. It wasn’t me who poisoned him...”
“Do you call it poison,” Zach says, “if you inhale it? Because I thought...”
But he’s interrupted by a shout of annoyance from Everett, who scrapes his chair back noisily as he lurches to his feet.
“What’s the matter?” Joe says.
“Damn lead shot in the partridge.” Everett leans forward and spits out a tiny metal pellet, which pings onto his plate surprisingly loudly. “Nearly broke my bloody tooth on it.”
“I’m afraid”—Genevieve’s tone drips with gleeful malice—“that’s something you have to expect, out here in the Fens.”
Everett coughs and glares at her, and Sadie turns her face the other way to hide her own smile. Mrs. Shrew positively beams down the table at Genevieve, and even Zach is grinning. Nazleentries to smooth things over. She calls back the waiter and asks him to let the chef know about the shot, and she apologizes to Everett until even he has to concede it’s no one’s fault.
“Please,” Nazleen says to the rest of them, “do carry on.”
Sadie’s not sure whether Nazleen wants them to carry on eating, or to continue questioning one another, but she sets her cutlery down neatly on her plate and resolves to do neither until her head has cleared a little.
Beth
July 1988
We sat in silence in the drawing room after Markus’s father stormed out. First came the slam of the front door, then his angry footsteps across the gravel, then the double slam as he and the chauffeur got back in the car. The engine started. The sound of it faded. Finally, just when I thought my tears were going to spill over, Leonora rose and came to me, and she wrapped her arms around me.
“You were wonderful, Beth.”
I inhaled her rose scent and felt myself relaxing.
“Yes, very well done,” Markus said. “You played it beautifully.”
But they both spoke cautiously, as if they weren’t sure themselves exactly what had just happened. And it was soon clear they no longer required my company.
“Don’t wake Nina, will you?” Leonora said to me as she and Markus headed out to the terrace with a bottle of wine. “Leave her to rest, okay?”
But I was too unsettled to know what else to do with myself, so I crept up the spiral staircase and tapped cautiously on Nina’s door.
