“I’ll ask Minerva if she’s spoken to them.” Upton began working through the crowd to his wife, who sat with some of his parishioners, away from the manor ladies.
The Uptons’ consultation produced worried frowns. Uneasily, Fletch verified that Kate and her children were fine. He swept his gaze over the room again. Everyone was laughing heartily. The performance was reaching its natural conclusion as the donkey’s ass produced the misplaced groom.
The Jameson children had almost reached the exit into the lobby. Fletch gestured at his former officer, Jack, who had already spotted the little thieves. Wearing a gentleman’s frockcoat, now that he was married to an earl’s daughter, Jack slid from his seat to block the doorway, catching the urchins by their collars when they attempted to run.
The laughing, clapping audience would have made the perfect diversion for their flight.
Diversion. Ignoring the Uptons waiting to speak to him, Fletch straightened and shoved his way through the standing, laughing crowd, clapping for the actors making their extravagant bows.
Kate startled when he lifted Lynly and gestured for them to follow him. Lynly thought it was part of the performance and applauded in delight. Rob frowned, just like his mother.
“Miss Marlowe and the Jamesons are missing,” he warned as he pushed them into the kitchen. “And Morgan hasn’t shown his face.”
At Fletch’s arrival, the staff hastily returned to chopping vegetables and kneading bread.
“Take Mrs. Morgan and her children to Verity’s office,” he ordered. “Kate, lock the door. I’ll send someone to guard it.”
He operated on instinct and had no explanation to give. Fletch took advantage of everyone’s bewilderment to escape. Even the kitchen staff wasn’t accustomed to him giving orders. He seldom participated in the inn’s operation. He just hoped Kate had the sense to listen.
He returned to the noisy pub, where the audience didn’t seem eager to leave. Good for business, Fletch assumed. Maybe they’d stay to eat or drink, provided Rafe didn’t have to chase thieves or. . . worse.
Jack had the squirming urchins in hand, hauling them over to Hunt. Coins didn’t matter. The women did. Even in rage and fear, Fletch knew priorities. Ignoring the little thieves, he pushed toward the lobby.
The curate and his wife hastened to follow.
“Before the show, I saw Lavender talking to customers.” Minerva had to speak loudly over the din of the crowd in the pub and those leaving. “Vivien was with her. I didn’t see Maryann.”
Maryann? Maryann—the gap-toothed cheerful clerk, right. Surely. . . Letting his imagination roam did not help.
Looming a head over the departing guests, Rafe guarded the inn’s only open door. No one could slip past his giant partner. All the other doors were locked. The women had to leave through Rafe, unless they went upstairs. . . .
“Have you seen Miss Lavender or the Jamesons?” Upton asked Rafe before Fletch could frame a question that wouldn’t cause panic.
“She and Vivien and the clerk were flitting in and out, talking with ladies on the boardwalk. I was only counting heads coming in.” Rafe shifted from genial host to soldier alert in an instant. “They weren’t in the pub?”
Rafe had a wife and family now. He needed to be a genial host and not a soldier. Fletch slapped his partner’s massive shoulder and pointed at the pub. “Feed the masses. Congratulate your thespians. We’ll locate our eager shopkeepers. Oh, and the Jameson children are thieves. You might straighten that out. Jack has them.”
Curse the damned women for not staying inside! Fletch tried his best not to look too grim as he pushed his way across the wide lobby filled with folk eager to discuss the performance. Following in his wake, Upton and his wife did their best to divert anyone blocking his path. Most people didn’t know Fletch and were happy to speak with their curate.
He broke through the crowd to the quiet hallway on the other side. At first, the neat little shop appeared undisturbed. He wasn’t accustomed to ladies’ apparel shelves. But a second look revealed the table at the window was no longer perfectly straight. The hat display appeared as if some were missing. And from the stink, someone had been ill.
“Oh my,” Minerva whispered, having escaped her husband’s adoring parishioners. “Lavender wouldn’t have left those ribbons dangling. And the Sunday bonnet is missing. Shall I fetch Hunt?”
“Let’s not cause alarm until we know what happened. Fetch Jack. If there’s any danger, we need to keep people in the pub for as long as possible.” Mostly, Fletch didn’t want anyone underfoot until he figured it out.
Minerva nodded and hurried off. Fletch took the corridor in the opposite direction from the lobby, looking for Jasper. Could one of the locked doors been broken?
He didn’t have to go far. Jasper, the hardware clerk he’d left guarding the room with unshuttered windows, lay sprawled across the empty floor in a litter of glass and splintered wood. Repairing that swollen window frame had been one of the many tasks they hadn’t tackled.
Didn’t have to worry about it now. A good kick could have easily taken out wood that rotten. Fletch dropped into a crouch to verify the boy breathed. Jasper appeared to have lost his lunch but he was stirring and not dead.
Hearing boots pounding down the hall, Fletch rose to greet Parsons, their clerk, in addition to one of the soldiers Jack must have sent. “Find Dr. Walker. See if Miss Marlowe and Miss Jamison have returned to the manor.” As far as he was aware, the clerk lived in the village. He needed men in too many places at once.
Accustomed to obeying orders, Parsons and the soldier ran off. Fletch returned to the room, stepped over Jasper, and kicked out the rest of the window so he could fit through. Whoever had done this had been smaller than he was. The younger women would fit, not broad Mrs. Jameson. Hugh Morgan, probably. Anyone else?
The hell of it was, he wasn’t sure enough of who had been murdered, or which deaths had been accidental, to create a list of suspects. Had all the actors been on stage while this happened? What could anyone gain from a dress shop?
Had they kidnapped Vivien? If so, he probably ought to let them get away. But he needed to establish the whereabouts of all three women who’d last been seen in the shop.
