The Butler Didn't Do It (A Maddox Storm Mystery Book 2) by Claire Robyns Page B

right, of course. That must be about ten years ago now.”
    I hesitated to intrude on her emotion, but Miss Crawley had no such qualms.
    “Has she always had that fetish?” asked Miss Crawley.
    Julie blinked. “Fetish?”
    “Dressing up as a woman twice her age.”
    “Oh, that…” Julie gave a brisk laugh. “That was just something she liked to do, to change things up a bit. Lydia has a— had a brilliant mind, you see. She became an Honored Master last year, our youngest ever.”
    She looked at me. “No offence, Ms Storm, but many of these mystery parties become routine after a while, somewhat boring. To make it more of a challenge, Lydia started assuming different characters for each weekend and then limiting herself within that character’s mind. An elderly lady, for example, would never…”
    She trailed off, her gaze swerving as Nate came out the library.
    Alone.
    He stepped deeper into the lounge, commanding attention without speaking a word. The set of his shoulders, the depth of his long stride, the tension literally bristling off him. I kept looking for Jonas, wondering what on earth had gone wrong now.
    Nate stopped, a furious glint hardening his eyes. He looked from one person to the next as he finally spoke.
    “I don’t give a damn what rules Ms Storm cooked up, it is never okay to lie to an officer of the law.” His jaw hollowed as he bit down on his back teeth. “Lydia Fieldman is dead. I’m not playing twenty questions to search for a party favor; I’m hunting down a murderer.”
    That hard gaze landed on me for a fleeting moment, but that’s all it took to send icy shivers down my spine. I’d seen Nate irritated, frustrated, tethered to the end of his patience, but I realized I’d never seen him truly angry before.
    Not until now.
    “So listen up folks, here are the new rules.” He balled a fist into one palm. “I’m done with second-guessing answers and second chances. The next person who lies to me will be charged with obstructing justice. Is that clear?”
    He didn’t wait for a response, whipped himself around and strode back into the library. The door clicked softly closed behind him.
    A sick feeling rolled along the bottom of my stomach. I stood, my legs suddenly shaky, and pushed my way past Miss Crawley’s crossed ankles to get out of the lounge as fast as I could.
    And, okay, most of that roiling sickness was the direct result of Nate’s anger. It felt like he’d lashed me with a whip.
    Who knew I cared so much?
    It was more than that, though. I was no angel when it came to hampering Nate’s investigations, but I’d never done so intentionally.
    I made it as far as the second step on the staircase when Miss Crawley’s concern rang out from behind, “Maddox, are you alright?”
    I gripped the banister and turned to her. “What is wrong with these people? Lydia Fieldman was their friend, but all they care about is silly rules and finishing the game.”
    “It’s their way,” she said softly. “Even as the victim, this is the last murder mystery Lydia will ever participate in and they’re honoring her memory by playing it through to the end.”
    That had a certain dramatic flair I could relate to. “Still, they could do that without impeding the law. Don’t they want justice for her?”
    “These are the GRIMMS, my dear.” Miss Crawley gave an indulgent smile. “It wouldn’t cross their minds that they’re not capable of solving her murder on their own.”
    “Let’s hope so,” I sighed.
    I would love to receive an envelope at Sunday lunch tomorrow revealing a valid motive and a name for Nate to arrest.

 
     
     
    NINE
     
     
    My mood levelled off as I added Lydia’s husband to the list of suspects on Nate’s whiteboard, parenthesized with ( Artifact smuggler, Hitman.) It wasn’t as if I’d encouraged my guests to lie to him. They were all adults, responsible for their own actions. If Nate wanted to blame me, that was his problem.
    I hadn’t been