Read Online Murder at Beechwood by Alyssa Maxwell - Free Book Online

can’t approach the man on my own.”
    â€œSurely you don’t think this child originated with the Monroes?” His eyebrows went up. “With Daphne?”
    â€œI don’t think anything—yet. But Daphne is apparently unhappy, and it has something to do with Mr. Monroe.” I told him what Lawrence Monroe had said to me.
    Neily tugged at the new growth of beard on his chin. “That may be. Monroe is a tough old bird to be sure, but I just can’t fathom—”
    â€œAs I said, I’m not accusing anyone of anything at this point. I have very little to go on. Ruling out possibilities is as helpful as finding clear leads.”
    â€œAll right.” He held out his arm to me. “I’d be honored to escort you, Miss Cross.”
    For an instant his gallantry transported me across the years to when we were children and used to play at being grown-ups. Yet at the same time I realized Neily probably wanted nothing so much as to perform this favor for me and return to what interested him most—Grace Wilson. I grasped his arm and we set off.
    Unfortunately, my quarry had slipped the net. He’d migrated out to the dance floor, partnering a striking brunette I judged to be several years older than myself, and a good deal more sophisticated judging by the grace with which she executed the dance steps. She seemed to be leading Virgil Monroe, rather than the other way around.
    That Mr. Monroe would dance with this woman was nothing strange. On the contrary, etiquette deemed it only polite for even married men to dance with a wide variety of partners so that no woman suffered the ignominy of being a wallflower. I recognized something familiar about this particular woman, though I couldn’t yet define what.
    Neily turned me about and then we were dancing only steps away from the couple in question, where we might easily fall into conversation once the music paused. For now they seemed locked in a conversation of their own, oblivious to those around them. I strained my ears to listen, but the surrounding voices and music proved too much.
    Suddenly their voices hit a crescendo. They came to an abrupt halt and released each other. Fury burned in the woman’s dark eyes. “If you wish to bully me,” she hissed, “I’m afraid you must stand in line behind my brother.”
    At that, Virgil Monroe chuckled—meanly, I thought. The brunette raised the hems of her gold silk gown and swept imperiously away without a backward glance. My original intentions forgotten, I turned to Neily.
    â€œWho was that?”
    â€œDon’t you know?” When I shook my head, he said, “My dear, that’s the widowed and wildly wealthy Mrs. Judith Kingsley.”
    I continued to look at him blankly.
    â€œDerrick Andrews’s sister.”
    Â 
    I went about my business during the remainder of the ball, but Neily’s revelation continued to gnaw at me. Derrick giving me the cold shoulder . . . bullying his sister . . . Was this the man I thought I knew?
    And just what was the connection between his sister and Virgil Monroe?
    Concentrating became a challenge, but it mattered little since I uncovered nothing else of interest as I continued to interview the guests, though I did rule out several more possibilities for the baby’s mother. I’d decided against approaching Mr. Monroe after what I’d witnessed. It seemed the man had a way of bringing out the worst in women. But with the Monroes staying on at Beechwood for the next week—that much I’d found out from Virgil’s wife, Eudora—I’d surely find another opportunity to question the man, or perhaps I’d have Neily and Grace do it for me.
    Soon after the midnight supper I asked Grace if she’d mind if her driver brought me home. Before slipping out to the carriage, I climbed the stairs to see if Marianne had anything significant to report from her time spent with the other