Rules of Murder by Julianna Deering Page B

answer questions,” Mason said. “They just ask them.”
    “Quite right.” P. C. Applegate joined them, notebook in hand. “First off, sir, I must ask where Mrs. Parker is at the moment.”
    “Mrs. Parker?”
    “Your wife, sir.”
    Mason almost concealed his annoyance at this unnecessary revelation. “According to her maid, she has retired for the evening. She was quite understandably upset by what’s happened.”
    “I see, sir. And were you the one to tell her about the, um, incident?”
    “No,” Mason said. “I don’t know how she found out.”
    “Perhaps I might speak to her, sir?”
    “Wouldn’t the morning do just as well?” Mason asked.
    Applegate eyed him narrowly and made some more notes. “That may be, sir. And when did you hear the news?”
    “Drew sent one of the maids for me. I was in my study making a list of a few more things I wanted my secretary to see to once he arrived at our office in Alberta.”
    “That would be in Canada, sir?”
    “When last I saw it, yes.”
    “Your secretary’s name, sir?”
    “Merton Clarke.”
    “And when was he expected to leave?”
    “He already has, I believe. He took the train to Southampton, sailing on from there.”
    “So he left before you wrote your list, did he, sir?”
    “Well, yes,” Mason admitted. “It was all very last minute. I was going to telegraph it to him at the dock.”
    “And were you with him when he made this so-called list, Mr. Rushford?”
    Rushford started. “Me? No. No, I don’t remember a list. Were you making a list, Parker?”
    “It was after you and Clarke had left the study,” Mason said. “I came out to the party for a bit, saw my wife was in no mood for my company, and thought I’d best take care of a few more things before I turned in.”
    “How about you, sir?” Applegate said to Rushford. “When you and this Mr. Clarke left Mr. Parker, where did you go?”
    “Why, Clarke went up to get his things together and call a taxi. I went into the library and played bridge with a Mr. and Mrs. Halloway and some foreign fellow called Adelante or some such until they called us all out here to tell us there’d been a murder.”
    “Was this before or after the fireworks, sir?”
    “Oh, before. Well before, I’m sure.”
    Rushford wiped his glasses again and looked relieved at the arrival of his bicarbonate.
    “Did I miss anything?” Nick asked as he handed Rushford the glass.
    “I have to ask where you were tonight, Nick,” the constable said.
    “Me? Here and there, I suppose. After we rescued Miss Parkerfrom Lincoln’s unwanted attentions, I danced a bit, saw the fireworks on the front lawn, and then danced a bit more. It was Miss Parker’s friend, Miss Holland, who was with me. That is until they sent for me and Dad. After the body was found.”
    “There was an incident between the deceased and Miss Parker?”
    “Well, yes. Of a sort.”
    Nick glanced at Drew.
    “Not much of one,” Drew said. “He was coming on a bit too brash, and she let him know she wasn’t interested. That’s all it was.”
    “I understand you and Lincoln had something of a set-to yourselves last night, Mr. Drew. Is that so?”
    “That was less than nothing,” Mason put in. “Merely a misunderstanding about the room Lincoln was in. It was quickly sorted out.”
    “And the last time you saw Mr. Lincoln alive?” Applegate asked Drew.
    “It was when Miss Parker sent him packing. Nick and I made sure he understood she meant business. Last he said, he was off to have a word with my—”
    P. C. Applegate looked up from his notebook. “A word with whom, sir?”
    Drew bit his lip and glanced at Mason. “With my mother, I’m afraid.”
    “Pardon my asking, sir, but about Mrs. Parker.” Applegate looked at Mason, and his freckled face flushed scarlet. “Was Mrs. Parker . . . was she acquainted with Mr. Lincoln, sir? I mean . . .”
    “Mrs. Parker was well acquainted with Mr. Lincoln,” Mason said coolly. “As I said,