Page 84 of The Tartan Trap

Ellis clasped a hand over his face and pinched his nose. His eyes were bright, his shoulders shaking.

Rachel blinked. “No.”

“How unfortunate,” Callum said, his eyes twinkling.

She shrugged. “I warned the housekeeper to alert all the staff.”

“Hopefully someone will catch her before she reaches the back door,” Lord Shaw said in a dry tone.

“Can you please make sure they serve me a plate? I feel as if I’ll recover from my injuries at any moment,” Lord Lawrence said.

Several more dishes were served and cleared while the guests did their best to figure out who the murderer was. Everyone was in agreement that it hadn’t been Ellis’s character, but past that, there was much disagreement.

“Will you just tell us who the murderer is?” Beatrice finally asked Rachel, her shoulders sagging.

“I don’t know,” Rachel said, eyebrows raised, looking around the table. “That was kind of the point of the dinner party—to figure out who did it.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lily said, aghast, eyebrows raised.

“Well, I don’t know yet,” Rachel said with a frown. “I haven’t figured out the mystery. What fun would that have been for me if I knew who the murderer was?”

“You’re the one who wrote it,” Beatrice insisted.

“That’s the problem with trying to write something cleverer than you are,” Rachel said. “One always reaches the end of one’s own cleverness and still isn’t satisfied.”

Lord Shaw chuckled and returned his attention to his plate.

“Who would you make the murderer if it were you?” Rachel asked.

“Callum,” Margaret said on impulse, pointing. “Obviously he’s the killer.”

“The only thing he’s ever murdered is his roast beef,” Ellis muttered.

“Yes, it cannot be Ettrick, because he’s far too large to fit down the chimney,” Rachel said.

“What does the chimney have to do with anything?” Beatrice said, her brow crinkled.

“Remember the soot on the instep of the victim’s pant leg?” Rachel asked.

There was a moment of silence in which each and every person around the table craned their neck to inspect the body.

“Are you all looking at me?” Lord Lawrence muttered. “I feel as if you’re all looking at me.”

“What’s the point of playing dead if the corpse is going to talk?” Beatrice complained.

“I think he’s done a marvelous job,” Margaret supplied. “It must be exceedingly difficult to lie there all evening with that gore upon his chest.”

“It became decidedly more difficult once the rack of lamb was served,” he admitted.

Ellis hiccuped a laugh and motioned for his wine glass to be refilled.

“Can we please return to the point, which is that there’s been a murder and none of us know who did it?” Lily asked with real concern. She looked around the table, searching everybody’s features as if looking for someone to agree with her.

“Why on earth are you frightened?” Beatrice said.

“Because…look at him!” Lily extended her arm toward Lord Lawrence.

It appeared as if the man had momentarily fallen asleep. Margaret’s suspicion was confirmed a second later when a gentle snore emitted from his lips. Callum caught her eye and grinned. Margaret couldn’t help but smile back.