A Forgotten Murder (Medlar Mystery 3)
“What?”
“I chose two rooms that have an internal door connecting them. Two baths though.”
Jack didn’t reply except to nod. If he found out that Sara had put them into a murder investigation like their first one, he wasn’t going to let either woman out of his sight. Ever.
Four
Jack followed Kate back to the house. He wasn’t surprised when she led him down corridors and up narrow stairs to reach their rooms. She was taking him through the servants’ way: secret and hidden. He knew she could have gone to the front and used the main stairs, but she was trying to impress him with what she’d learned about the intricacies of the house—and she did.
She stopped on the third floor—or as the English said, the second floor—two floors above the ground floor.
“I saw all the guest rooms,” she said. “It’s all unlocked because they’re cleaning every inch of the house.”
“Who did you see?”
“No one. Isn’t that great? It’s like we own the place.”
“Where is Sara?”
Kate shrugged. “I have no idea, but there’s a locked door in the western part of the house.”
“Then that’s where she is.”
Kate had her hand on a doorknob. “I didn’t know which room you’d like. They’re all old-school English decorating. None of that Swedish minimal look for Oxley Manor.”
Jack tried not to grimace at the vision he conjured: pink walls, pink bed draped in ruffles, little lampshades like from a dollhouse. As Kate opened the door, he braced himself.
The room was large and tall, with floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were painted a deep, dark red, the woodwork white. The carpet was gray with red medallions. The bed was—thank you!—not canopied. It had a plain white cotton bedspread. There was a desk, a chest of drawers, a chair upholstered in red paisley, a TV and a two-person dining table.
“Well?” Kate said. “You like it or not?”
Jack looked around. “I never thought of a red bedroom. Think I should paint my room at home?”
“I think the iguanas would love it.” She was trying to hide that she was pleased that he liked what she’d chosen, but she couldn’t.
“So where are you?”
She tilted her head to indicate the door on the other side of the room. “We should find Aunt Sara. I think it’s time she told us what’s going on.” She headed to the door into the hall.
Ignoring her, Jack went to the connecting door. “What don’t you want me to see?”
“Nothing.” She made a leap to stop him from opening the door.
But he did. His eyes widened. “Holy merciful...” he whispered.
Kate frowned. “It’s not your room so you don’t h
ave to look at it. Let’s go.”
Jack didn’t move, just stared. It was like a child’s fantasy of a princess room. The bed had a canopy shaped like the top quarter of an egg. It was decorated with carvings of fleur-de-lis with feathers on top, all covered in gold leaf. Yards of cream-colored silk flowed down and was tied back with bows at the four corners of the bed. And what a bed! Upholstered in silk and trimmed in gold.
The walls of the room were covered with dark yellow brocade. The carpet was off-white. Over the marble fireplace was an Edwardian painting of a pretty young woman in a soft, flowery dress.
Kate was still frowning, waiting for his put-down.
Instead, he stretched out crosswise at the foot of the bed. He wouldn’t dare let his shoes touch the cover. “This is what a woman’s bedroom should look like.”
With a smile, Kate lay down at the head, hugging an embroidered pillow to her. “You really think so? It’s not too much?”