Page 27 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year

“You.” Rupert pointed at the butler. “Get the key.”

James didn’t cry or whimper. He just looked at Rupert in the manner of a man who had been there long before Eleanor’s ungrateful nephew showed up and who would be there long after. “There is only one key, sir. And Ms. Ashley keeps it with her at all times.”

“Every old house in England has a master key.” The duchess sounded annoyed. “Everyone knows that. So go get the master.”

“That is true, ma’am, but—”

Ethan was squatting on the floor and looking at the lock, examining the door in a way the others hadn’t noticed. “This lock is new. A master key wouldn’t work on this door.”

“Precisely,” James said. “Ms. Ashley had this lock changed a year ago and was adamant that she keep possession of the only key.”

“That’s insane.” Rupert turned to his sister. “I told you she was paranoid. Delusional. I was afraid something like this was going to happen.”

The hall filled with bickering and shouts, but all Maggie could think wasWhat if something is wrong? What if she’s hurt? What if, at this moment, Eleanor is on the other side of that door, and...

Maggie turned and looked at Ethan. He didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. They were the only silent people in the space but a whole conversation seemed to be taking place between them.

Can you believe these idiots?AndPriorities, people!And, most of all,Thiscould be bad. This could be very, very bad and they either don’t know or don’tcareand I honestly don’t know which is worse and—

She watched Ethan make up his mind. And spin. And kick. The door splintered, springing open, and the hall went suddenly silent.

“Oh, look. The door’s open,” Ethan said, then went inside.

Chapter Twenty-One

Maggie had probably spent a thousand hours imagining what the inside of Eleanor Ashley’s mind would look like, but standing in her office had to be the next best thing.

The desk was the only clear surface in the room, with nothing but the tea tray Cece had been carrying the night before sitting near the edge. Everywhere else, there were stacks of mail and dog-eared paperbacks, empty water glasses, and crosswords done in ink. It was a room that was lived in. Used.

Three of the walls had built-in shelves full of nearly identical notebooks, but a large window seat covered most of the fourth. Soft, velvet pillows rested against the frosty glass, and, outside, the sill was piled high with fluffy fresh snow.

There was an old-fashioned turntable in the corner, and the low, steady scratching of a spinning record was almost ominous in the quiet room, but when Ethan picked up the needle, the silence was even louder. Because the most significant thing about Eleanor’s office was simple: Eleanor wasn’t in it.

“Maybe she went for a walk?” Kitty tried.

“It’s freezing outside,” the doctor said.

“Well, she’s not in here!” Rupert grumbled as if this had all been someone else’s idea and why were they wasting his time?

But that’s when Maggie saw something on the floor beside the desk. She bent to pick it up. “She was.”

“Oh, well spotted, Ms. Chase!” Sir Jasper said. “Look here, everyone, Ms. Chase has found the key!”

“There! Ha!” Rupert laughed. “Two keys! Clearly, Aunt Eleanor locked the room with the second when she left.”

“Sorry, Roofus—”

“Rupert,” Rupert corrected, but it was like Ethan didn’t even hear.

“In no way does that prove there are twokeys. And besides...” Ethan trailed off but angled the busted door so that everyone could see. There was a slide bolt on the back—the kind like you’d find in a bathroom stall—and it was latched. Ethan stood to his full, intimidating height. “She didn’t lock that from the outside.”

The moment stretched long and silent as they all stood there, doing the math in their heads. Two plus two suddenly equaled fifty and no one knew what to think—what to say.

“This is ridiculous!” The duke gave a huff. “A ninety-five-year-old—”

“She’s eighty-one!” Maggie and Ethan said at the same time.

“—woman cannot simply disappear out of a locked room!”