Regencyland- The Bristle Park Murders Read online

  Too blinding—to think.—clearly. “Uh—” Thank goodness we’re cousins.

  Just then three men entered, all dressed in period clothing, saving her from having to respond. Two of the men were well over six feet tall. One had a determined air about him, the other a happy-go-lucky countenance that Shea was sure could make anyone smile. Both men’s gazes found their way to Miss Smith, though the determined one was more subtle about it. The third man was the one she’d run into in the hall.

  His gaze fell on Miss Cross, and then Shea, but for only a moment before he ripped it away. The suddenness of it felt jarring. Did she have something stuck in her teeth? She ran her tongue across them just to be sure.

  One thing was for certain, Mrs. Rafferty only hired lookers. It was a little disconcerting, but she supposed it made sense once you factored in the cost of admission. What woman in her right mind would pay that kind of money for a short man with hair plugs, pudgy gut, or slightly curved nose? They wanted the fantasy, were paying out the arse for it, and that’s exactly what they were going to get. It felt so shallow, but she had to admit she finally saw the appeal of this place. They probably all had six packs too. And then she frowned because she felt like a sexist. Ugh, stop it.

  The ladies stood. Mr. Daley offered Shea his hand and helped her out of her seat. He leaned in and whispered, “Croquet.”

  She jumped at his closeness and blinked up at him. “Pardon?”

  “Battledore and shuttlecock. It’s like croquet.” His cocky grin reminded her of the look she’d seen on the faces of her brothers whenever they got caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

  Oh. That wasn’t the inappropriate game she’d imagined at all. Well, that was good then. “Really?”

  He nodded then moved toward the couch where Miss Smith and Mrs. Rafferty sat.

  After the ladies were once again introduced, Mrs. Rafferty presented the eye candy. No! The men. She presented the men. First Daley, then the two tall men. The determined one was called Captain Bayliss and the friendly-altar boy one, Mr. Asher.

  “And last, but not least,” Mrs. Rafferty pointed to the man from the hall, “is dear Mr. Hamilton. He lives nearby, in Hawthorn Mansion, but is staying with us while his house undergoes some minor renovations.”

  Hamilton stood at the mantle and held himself as every bit the gentleman he was supposed to be—back straight, chest out, chin high, cravat-tie thing protruding.

  He was good.

  Out of all the men here, he fit better than anyone. Although she had to admit that her cousin, Mr. Daley, had the proper air about him. She was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be whispering to her, but then again he was her cousin. On the other hand, they didn’t know each other and hadn’t seen each other since childhood. Now that she thought about it, the lines were pretty blurry around newly acquainted cousin relationships. Her cousins could whisper to her, right? Not that they would but the point was valid. She frowned, a headache forming between her brows.

  They all chatted politely for a while before one of the tall actors, the friendly altar boy-man, found his way over to her. Even arms distance from her, she still had to crane her head up to look at him. He had a foot on her easily. Probably more.

  “How are you finding Bristle Park?” he asked.

  Her neck strained. “It’s beautiful.” That was all she could muster.

  He tried again. “I understand that you and Mr. Daley are cousins?”

  “Uh… yeah. I guess.” She made a cursory glance of the room. Her “cousin” was standing with Mr. Rafferty.

  Mr. Asher cleared his throat, and she threw her head back to peer up at him again. His dark brow creased.

  Why was he staring at her like that? Had she answered wrong? She cleared her throat. “Yes, we are cousins, but it’s been years since we last were, uh, acquainted.”

  Jeez, this is hard. Pretending to be a drug addict was easy compared to this. She knew her motivation there, but she had no idea what would motivate someone to come here other than that the men were hot, and frankly she could rent Batman Begins and watch Christian Bale take his shirt off for a fraction of a fraction of the cost of this place.

  Not that she’d do that…

  She’d just have to figure it out. That was all there was to it. While it was unlikely that Cross would be in danger way out here in the boondocks, Shea recognized that not being believable undercover could potentially cause harm to Cross. Believability was just as key here as when she was buying drugs off dealers. There had to be more to her cover story than what she’d originally been told? Or else she wouldn’t have a cousin, right? Maybe the script was in the booklet with the rules. That’d be great.

  “I do hope that we can become better acquainted, Miss Shea.” Mr. Asher smiled.

  Shea froze. She let her head drop back down to its normal position, looking at Asher’s abdomen, then glanced around the room. Miss Smith chatted with Captain Bayliss, who was staring at her mouth as she spoke. Miss Cross sat with Mr. Hamilton, and for some reason, the match just didn’t seem right to her. Daley didn’t have a match, but he was her cousin. The pieces fell into place.

  They put me with the jolly green giant? She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or not. Moments ago he’d been ogling Miss Smith. Admittedly though, this made her job tons easier. Nothing would ever happen between them.

  When she yanked her head back once more, Mr. Asher bit his lip. Can we become better acquainted? The look seemed to repeat.

  “I would like that.”

  Chapter Four

  A soft humming awoke Shea from an uncomfortable sleep. She stretched out across the bumpy, wood floor. Where am I? She sat bolt upright, her hair flipping over her shoulders in the process and glanced around. Morning light streamed through her window over her near untouched canopy bed. A pillow lay to one side of her and a puddle of drool on the other. She wiped her chin.

  That’s right; she was in Regencyland, or Bristle Park. She slapped a hand over her eyes.

  After everyone had excused themselves to bed last night, Shea had learned two things. First, that Miss Cross’s room was at the end of the hall, just after her own. Second, she’d learned it’d be hard to hear people coming and going if she was way across the room in the bed. She’d discovered that when her chambermaid, Mary, had come to help her defrock. She’d heard nothing. It was likely due to the runner carpet down the middle of the hall. Also, she hadn’t been listening. Either way, she hadn’t been willing to take the chance that someone would sneak past to Cross’s room and had ended up on the floor.

  She’d barely slept, until the last hour apparently.

  She stretched her neck and reached high above her head, working out the kinks. The faint and repetitive humming that had awakened her started once more. It took her two hums to remember her cell phone smashed between her mattress and box spring. Jumping to her feet, she raced around her bed to retrieve it. It flipped out of her hands and onto the mattress. She scrambled to answer before it stopped ringing.

  “Hello? Hello?”

  “Everything all right?” Lee asked.

  “Yes,” she rasped out as she plopped down on her bed, “why?”

  “I’ve called four times.”

  Mid-yawn, she felt a panic swirl in her gut. “What?”

  “How’s it going?”

  Grateful for his ability to glance over things, she took the lead in. “Aside from the fact that there are several floors, dozens of halls and exits, numerous employees, and that I had to sleep on the floor just so I could hear if someone was sneaking to Cross’s room, it’s going great. Thanks for asking. Oh, and I think someone might have taken photos of her when she came in yesterday.”

  “Photos?”

  She stretched. “I saw a reflection in the woods when she arrived. It might have been a camera lens. I haven’t been able to check it out yet. Any news on your end?”

  “I talked to Cross’s sister yesterday. No other family aside from her uncle to speak of. Her si
ster knew nothing. I’m talking to some of her friends and colleagues today.”

  “Anything on the ex-boyfriend?”

  “Still don’t know who he is. Her uncle never knew, and neither did her sister.”

  “Great,” Shea mumbled.

  “I know.” Lee breathed.

  The background noise of the station got louder; someone laughed, and then there was mumbling. “Lee?”

  “Shea?” Brown’s voice came over the line.

  “Boss?”

  A chorus of laughs drowned out Brown’s voice.

  “What?” Shea asked.

  “Have you talked to Cross’s bodyguards yet?” Brown did nothing to hide his amused tone.

  “No,” she said.

  “Good, don’t.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “I want to know if they can pin you as a cop in your Queen Victoria dresses.” Another outburst of laughs flowed through the phone.

  “I’m hanging up now,” she warned.

  “I’m serious, Shea.” He chuckled.

  She waited.

  He pulled it together. “Simmons told me that these men are the best at what they do. I want to see how accurate that is. I want to know if someone could get past them, because if they can, then I need to send in backup.”

  Backup? That caught her attention. Hadn’t this been a simple babysitting detail? “What’s going on, Boss?”

  A muffled sound, like a hand going over a receiver, muted the laughter and noise of the bullpen. A moment later Brown spoke. “It may be nothing.”

  “What?”

  “Simmons sent me some of her hate mail.”

  Didn’t all celebrities get hate mail? “What kind of hate mail calls for backup?”

  “In the last three months, a dozen threatening letters have made it to her front door.”

  “They had her home address?” That was scary. She was pretty sure that most celebrities tried to keep their addresses a secret, aside from the super-famous ones that couldn’t.

  “Yes, but that’s not the worst of it. They weren’t mailed. Whoever wrote them brought them personally. And that includes letters, pictures of her sister and her family, and once a pig’s head with a knife in it.”

  Gross. “Why didn’t Simmons tell you this before I got here? And why didn’t Cross take him seriously after finding the head?”

  “Simmons didn't know about the letters, and he found the head last night.”

  Shea stood. “We should get her out of here.”

  “Simmons thinks she’d fight every step of the way. He also said no one except for him and her three guards knew that she was going. For now, I think she’s safe there, more so than anywhere else. You just keep an eye out, and if you think you need backup, we’ll send someone else in.” He breathed out.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Someone knocked. “Miss? Are you up?”

  Shea jumped, then whispered, “I’ve gotta go.” She hung up and shoved it under her mattress again. She ran over to the door, picked up her pillow and chucked it back onto the bed.

  “Miss? Is everything all right?” Came the cockney accent.

  Sliding to a stop in front of her door, she pushed her hair behind her ears and let the girl in.

  “Good morning, Mary.”

  Mary gasped. “You look a sight. Didn’t you sleep a wink the whole night?”

  “New place,” she tried to explain it away. “I’m sure sleep will come easier tonight.”

  It wouldn’t though, not after what she’d just learned.

  Mary didn’t look particularly placated but went to the closet. She pulled out a simple beige dress, a baby blue taffeta jacket with large buttons up the front, and slightly puffed sleeves, and a bonnet. A bonnet meant they were going outside. She might be able to use this as an excuse to explore those trees with the mysterious glint. Now, having heard about the threats coming Cross’s way, she’d have to.

  Breakfast was a non-event, to Shea’s relief. According to Mrs. Rafferty, the men had already eaten and were currently out preparing for the day’s activities. She had the impression that this was not something that would be a normal state of affairs but decided not to dwell on that for the time being. This morning she’d gotten to eat what she wanted without being served by the man closest to her. Last night Mr. Asher had fed her about twenty different kinds of weird meat.

  This morning she went for fruit salad and cold toast, but only ended up eating half of it.

  After breakfast, the ladies made their way out of the dining room. Mr. Rafferty approached them. He’d come in last night just before dinner, and Shea hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to him. Especially when at dinner, her attention had been whipped about. Mr. Asher, Captain Bayliss, and Mr. Hamilton had rotated around the table, taking turns talking with each lady. It’d kind of felt like speed dating. Maybe she wasn’t paired with Asher after all?

  Mr. Rafferty bowed to them, a gray, ringleted wig covering his balding head, and then kissed Mrs. Rafferty on the cheek. “Good morning, my dear?” His eyes sparkled at his wife.

  She blushed. “Very, and you?”

  It was heartening to see this couple at their age so happy together. She’d not had many experiences in her own life in which this was a common occurrence. Her mom had died when she was nineteen, and her dad, useless without her, had followed two years later. She’d become the parent of her three younger brothers.

  She looked away from the goo-goo eyes the two were giving one another until they’d concluded their morning pleasantries. There genuine affection tugged at her heartstrings.

  Mr. Rafferty faced Shea. “The last time I saw you, you had pigtails in your hair, and my nephew was chasing you around the garden. He hasn’t started that again, now has he?”

  She tried to imagine being a child with Mr. Daley and laughed. “No, he hasn’t. It seems we’ve grown up since last we were here.”

  His gray eyes crinkled in the corners with amusement. “I might be willing to believe you have, but my nephew… He’s always up to something.” He turned to the other two. “Be mindful to watch yourselves around him. He’s a hopeless flirt.”

  Miss Smith blushed and glanced down.

  “He’s a naughty man,” Miss Cross said. “Last night he suggested we play whist with six people instead of four.”

  Everyone laughed at that, except Shea. She didn’t understand whist. If only it were more like poker. Shea rocked at poker.

  Mrs. Rafferty turned to the ladies. “The men are out at the range this morning, but we have the perfect activity for you ladies.”

  “Oh, don’t we get to go to the range too?” Miss Smith asked, surprising Shea and Mrs. Rafferty.

  “You want to go shooting?” Mr. Rafferty asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

  “I’ve never done it before, might be fun.” Shea glanced down.

  “Perhaps we can take the ladies this week?” Mr. Rafferty turned to his wife.

  As the group continued to discuss the schedule, Shea decided this would be the best opportunity to duck out and check the woods. “I’ll be right back.”

  At the front entryway, stood a butler wearing a white wig; he opened the door for her.

  “Miss Shea,” a male voice called from behind her as she took a step outside.

  She turned to find Mr. Hamilton approaching from down the hall. He wore hunting boots, so the men probably were going to the range. She’d assumed they’d be relaxing in some actor area or something when they didn’t need to entertain the paying folk.

  He’d talked to her at dinner last night, but had come off a little brooding. She wasn’t sure he liked her very much, and considering SacPD was paying him to, it made her nervous.

  “Good morning.” She curtsied, had to do a lot of that here.

  He nodded in return. “Can I be of assistance?”

  She scrunched her brow. “With what?”

  He smiled. He had a nice smile. “Are you going for a walk? I could escort you—”
<
br />   Crap. “Oh, no. I just needed to, wanted to get some fresh air.” She breathed deep, then stepped back through the door. So much for her search.

  “Are you certain I can’t escort you around the park?” His tone was smooth as honey.

  Man was he good looking and dignified with that salt and pepper hair.

  “No,” she said abruptly and looked anywhere but at him. Pull it together, Shea. “I’m good. I’ll just… head back.” She stepped around him.

  Before she’d gotten far, he took her arm. “Miss Shea.”

  She stared at where he held her.

  He let go. “Forgive me; I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” Shame colored his tone.

  Man, this guy is good at this game.

  “I hope every time we meet doesn’t turn into a habit of you running away from me.”

  So, they were allowed to reference their meeting in the hall. She scrunched her nose, thinking of an appropriate response.

  He chuckled.

  “What’s funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing, forgive me.”

  Her hands went to her hips, and she narrowed her eyes.

  “Well, actually. The faces you make when you’re deciding what to say. Adorable.” He said the last word under his breath.

  She pulled her chin back. He thought she was adorable? Or was it just part of the act? And if it was part of the act, why on earth was he aiming it at her? After last night’s game of ring-around-the-dating-pool, she thought he was paired with Miss Cross. Or maybe the actors just flirted with all the women? Or maybe he did find her adorable.

  “Cousin,” Mr. Daley called.

  Shea jumped.

  He ambled down the hall, looking bright and cheery. He wore his jacket today. “I’ve been sent to recover you to the sitting room.” When he got close, he frowned. “Dear Elizabeth, are you quite well? You look as though you haven’t gotten any sleep. You have bags under your eyes.”

  Ugh. Way to pop her bubble. From flattery to insults. Though the second seemed more likely after sleeping on the floor last night. Actors, actors, she reminded herself. “I’m fine, thank you.”