British Manor Murder Read Free Page B

sequins.”
    At first, Lucy felt stung by the comment, but seeing Sue’s suppressed smile she realized her friend was teasing her. “Darn! You must have read my mind,” replied Lucy, revealing the first flash of humor her friend had seen in a long time.
    â€œI think this trip is a good idea,” said Sue, beaming at her and giving her a parting embrace before climbing into the enormous Navigator. Settling herself behind the steering wheel, she lowered the window. “And don’t forget to bring your good jewelry,” she advised, before shifting into DRIVE and zooming off.
    * * *
    Seven weeks later, Lucy found herself following Sue in a straggling procession of freshly disembarked British Air passengers who were making their way through a maze of stainless steel and glass corridors at Heathrow, hoping eventually to reach Immigration and be admitted to the United Kingdom. As Sue had advised, she’d carefully packed a small leatherette case containing her good jewelry—a modest diamond and platinum lavaliere she’d inherited from her grandmother and a pair of cultured pearl earrings that Bill had given her—in her purse. She had disregarded the rest of Sue’s advice, however, and had neglected to pack anything dressy in the carry-on sized roller suitcase she was towing behind herself. There hadn’t been room after she’d thrown together a pile of comfortable jeans and favorite sweaters, plus a couple of guide books and a mystery novel or two.
    Finally reaching the glass booths inhabited by immigration officers, Lucy patiently waited her turn, grateful for the rest from the rushed march through the terminal. She watched with amusement as Sue flirted with the rather good-looking young fellow who was smiling as he examined her passport. Sue could never resist a man in uniform.
    Getting the nod from a rather less attractive officer whose neck rolls spilled over his tight collar, Lucy stepped forward and presented her passport along with the little slip of paper she’d been told to fill out on the airplane. It provided the details of her visit in England, including lodgings.
    â€œMoreton Manor, eh?” he said, scowling at the paper. “Is that a hotel?”
    â€œIt’s a house,” said Lucy, smiling in what she hoped was a friendly manner.
    â€œAnd what’s your business there?” he demanded, fixing his rather small, pale blue eyes on her.
    â€œI’m a houseguest,” said Lucy.
    â€œAnd who is your host?” he asked, turning to his computer screen.
    â€œThe Earl of Wickham,” said Lucy, somehow feeling this wasn’t going to work in her favor.
    â€œAnd how exactly do you happen to know the earl?” The officer seemed to have developed a rather strong Cockney accent and was studying her bright pink all-weather jacket with some skepticism.
    â€œMy friend”—she nodded toward Sue, who was waiting for her beyond the barrier—“met the earl at a hat exhibit a few years ago. They both collect hats, you see, and there’s going to be a show of the earl’s hats at Moreton Manor. He invited Sue and her husband, but Sid didn’t want to go, so I got invited.” Lucy paused. “I’ve been a bit down in the dumps lately and everyone thought the trip would do me good.”
    The officer took a long look at her passport, then folded it closed and handed it to her. “I’m sure it will, luv, and be sure to give my regards to his lordship.”
    â€œOh, I will,” said Lucy, suspecting he was being rather sarcastic but not quite willing to risk joking with a person in authority.
    â€œWhat was that all about?” asked Sue when Lucy finally joined her. “They couldn’t have thought you were a terrorist or a smuggler, though that jacket does look like something a desperate refugee might wear.”
    â€œI like this jacket. It’s bright and cheerful,” said Lucy. “I