Read Walking Into Murder for Free Online Page B

though how one got it to the mouth from that position without spilling remained a mystery, especially when the soup bowl was encased in a silver tureen that kept getting in the way. Still, the soup was delicious despite Angelina’s disclaimers.
    The sandwiches were another matter. They were a varied and ill-assorted lot, some with bits of green that she assumed were watercress, others with a pink paste that might be ham or fish, and a yellow one that might be eggs enhanced by a great deal of mayonnaise. Most of them, however, had a sticky brown substance inside that reminded Laura of the mud she had stared at all day. Both Angelina and Nigel were eating them voraciously, so Laura took a tentative bite. She put the sandwich down again in astonishment. Chocolate! How bizarre!
    “If you don’t want it, I’ll have it,” Angelina said, noting that Laura had taken only one bite.
    “Angelina, that is not polite,” her mother corrected.
    “Yes, mother,” Angelina answered, and coolly grabbed the sandwich from Laura’s plate.
    Conversation was desultory. Antonia seemed lost in her own thoughts and so did Lord Torrington. Tom Smith, who was seated beside their hostess, was talking to her about art, a subject both of them seemed to know a lot about.
    Their voices suddenly ceased and Laura realized that everyone’s eyes were focused on the door behind her. Antonia gave a sharp cry of fear, and Nigel looked as if he were about to faint. Lord Torrington was open-mouthed with astonishment. Thomas had a glint in his eye that looked almost dangerous. Even the grande dame had lost her steely composure, as if she had no idea how to rise to this particular occasion.
    Angelina, as usual, looked mutinous. “You’re dead!” she exclaimed. “You’re supposed to be dead, so you can’t come in here.”
    Lord Torrington’s astonishment morphed into triumph. “No dead body, after all,” he said, beaming. “Didn’t see how there could be. Not reasonable, doncherno.”
    Belatedly, Laura looked behind her. A duplicate of the woman she had seen on the bed in the green room stood in the doorway, wringing her hands. Her long bony face was suffused with embarrassment.
    Lottie rushed toward them. “I am so sorry, Baroness Smythington, so very much sorry that I have not attended to my duties,” she said in an anguished tone, bowing until she had almost prostrated herself at the grande dame’s feet. Her accent was very strong. One of the Scandinavian languages, Laura suspected.
    Gratefully, she took note of the name Lottie had used. It was a strange way to find out the proper form of address for her hostess, but she was still glad to know it.
    Lottie went on apologizing as if unable to stop. “I do not know what happens to me,” she moaned, stumbling over the words. “One moment I am drinking the tea in my room, and then I am falling down, and I wake up many hours later, but I do not know where I am and what has come over me, and I…”
    Abruptly, her voice broke off and she slumped into a chair.
    “All right, Lottie,” the Baroness said. “I am sure it was not your fault. I think all of us have been the victims of a very nasty joke.”
    Deliberately, one face at a time, she examined each person at the table, including Laura. “I do not know who is responsible for this outrage,” she said severely, “but I intend to find out.” No one met the probing dark eyes. Even Lord Torrington seemed subdued by her gaze.
    The old lady rose slowly to her feet. “Shall we take coffee in the study? Antonia, I would be pleased if you would carry the tray from the kitchen.” She turned to Angelina. “There are some petit fours in the sideboard. Perhaps you will bring them?”
    Angelina’s face lit up. “Yes, Gram,” she answered meekly. Grabbing the delicacies, she ran ahead of them to the study so she could chew unobserved. The others trooped behind the Baroness, as intimidated as a group of students on their way to the principal’s