The future king and queen walked into the house, their faces masks of concern. Jeremy was a tall, thin man with thinning mane, while his wife Jennie was a kind-faced, rangy brunette. When she saw Tessa, Jennie immediately streaked forward, arms outstretched.“Oh, you poor thing. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” said Tessa with a strained smile. The events of the past couple of days had clearly left a big impression on her, and her customary sunny disposition had suffered.
“This is so awful! Do they know what happened?”
“Kids setting off firecrackers and a fuse box meltdown,” she said automatically, as if reading from a teleprompter. “The whole thing gave us a big scare. But nothing bad happened. Just a concatenation of circumstances.”
“Yes, I heard just now—you must have been terrified.”
“It was pretty scary,” Tessa admitted.
Meanwhile Jeremy clapped his brother on the shoulder.“Gave you quite a fright, the whole dreadful business, what?”
“It did,” Dante admitted. He clamped his lips together, clearly wanting to say more and being in two minds about Tess’s information embargo.
“Kids, eh?” said Jeremy. “Blimey.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Lock them up in the Tower?” Jeremy suggested, eliciting a weak smile from his younger brother.
Jeremy directed a worried look at him.“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You don’t look all right. I’d say you look… awfully pissed off.”
“Well, I am,” said Dante. “How would you feel if your wife was suddenly under attack.”
“From firecrackers?”
“We didn’t know it was firecrackers. It sounded like gunfire.”
Jeremy smiled indulgently.“Surely an ex-military man like yourself can tell the difference between a firecracker and gunfire?”
“I didn’t know what to think. Everybody hit the floor and there was panic for a few moments, especially when the lights went out immediately after.”
“Shock to the system, eh?” said Jeremy knowingly. “Good for you, old chap. Brings out the old fighting spirit. Makes you feel alive. Speaking of which, I’ve heard through the grapevine Gran is on her way over.”
“Oh, dear God, no,” Dante groaned.
Gran, who’d heard her name mentioned, pricked up her hears. “Excuse me,” she said, approaching the two brothers. “Who’s on her way here?”
“Our grandmother,” said Dante. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? Vesta Muffin, this is my brother, the Duke of Bristol.”
“Please call me Jeremy,” said Jeremy graciously.
But Gran wasn’t interested in niceties or social decorum. “Are you telling me the Queen of England is on her way over here?”
“Yup,” said Jeremy. “She must have heard about the incident at the shelter and wants to see for herself what the fuss is all about. I honestly believe this goes to show your security people don’t know their arse from their elbow. What an astonishing cock-up.”
“They couldn’t have foreseen something like this would happen,” said Dante, though I could tell he was thinking the same thing his brother was thinking.
“They could have performed a sweep of the room. Confiscated those blasted firecrackers. Made certain those little blighters weren’t anywhere near you or Tessa. And then there’s the fuse box. They should have checked.”
“You’re probably right,” said Dante.
“Of course I’m right! Who’s in charge of your security?”
“Kingsley Para.”
“I’d take a long hard look at his credentials. And talk to Protection Command. There should be consequences to a disaster like this.”
“I will,” said Dante. “Trouble is, one of the security people is actually Tessa’s cousin. And she tells me he’s quite good at what he does.”
“Well, obviously he’s not, is he, old boy? I’d think about chucking him—family or no family. Can’t have nepotism stand in the way of keeping safe.”
“What’s nepotism, Max?” asked Dooley.
“When you give an unfair advantage to members of your family in the distribution of jobs and such,” I said. “Like when the president of a country appoints friends and family to important jobs, without following procedure.”
“Like if Tessa would make Fluffy her head of security?”
“Maybe she should,” said Brutus. “Prince Jeremy is right. What a screwup.”
“Could it be that her security team is in on this?” I asked.
“You mean, could they be working with the killer?” asked Harriet.
“It would explain how he got through security just now, and managed to fire off a shot. And how he got into the house and laced her tea with Belladonna. Or sneak past security to tip over that stone ball.”
“It would explain a lot,” Brutus agreed.
“But wouldn’t her cousin know if a conspiracy was being hatched?” asked Harriet.
“Not if he’s in on it,” I said.
We all glanced up at Tessa, who was keeping it together, even though the strain the incident had caused showed on her face and her rigid posture.
“I think Odelia should have a chat with the cousin,” I said.
We agreed to bring it up as soon as Odelia was done talking to the Duchess of Bristol, aka Jennie, but then a loud noise told us another visitor had arrived.
And judging from Gran’s excited cries, it was none other than the Queen!
Chapter 23
It was a great honor and a wonderful opportunity to meet the one and only Queen, of course, but what I was looking most forward to was meeting those famous corgis, and I sincerely hoped she’d brought them along.
“So you better be on your best behavior,” said Harriet, suddenly deciding she was the one in charge. “No backtalk and no foul language from any of you—is that understood?”
“I don’t think the Queen speaks our language,” Dooley pointed out.
“Obviously I’m not talking about the Queen,” said Harriet. “I’m talking about her precious corgis. Be polite and show them the respect they deserve.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” said Brutus. “They’re just dogs!”
“They’re royal dogs. And they just happen to be the most famous dogs in the world. People even make movies about them, so they’re not ‘just dogs.’ They’re brothers and sisters and we need to be on our best behavior. Show them we’re not the country bumpkins they probably take us for. That we’re worthy of being in their royal presence. Basking in their glow. Moving in their sophisticated circles.”
Brutus clearly wasn’t in agreement, but there was no time to complain, for the door swung open and there she was: the Queen, resplendent in fluorescent pink. Pink dress, pink coat and pink hat. She clutched her famous purse, the one she uses to signal her staff when she needs to be rescued from garrulous and annoying company, her face split in a wide, full-toothed smile.
“She has such nice teeth,” Dooley marveled. “Will you look at those snappers? They’re absolutely perfect.”
“Not her own, probably,” I said. “Humans tend to lose their teeth, and then have them replaced with new ones made of plastic.”
“Plastic teeth? How weird,” said Dooley.
“It’s true, though. Grandma has fake teeth.”
“Oh, that’s right,” said Dooley. “I’ve seen her take them out.”
We watched in fascination as Gran actually curtsied before the Queen, and showed her own, almost identical, choppers to the beloved monarch.
“Such an honor,” Gran gushed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Your Highness, if you could spare a few moments of your precious time, could you perhaps give me a couple of pointers on how to be a queen?”
The Queen gave her a curious look.“Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Vesta?”
“Well, the thing is—I’m going to be queen myself, you see. Over in America. And since you’ve held the job for so long now, I’m sure you’re perfectly positioned to help a newbie get started on her queenly tenure.”
The Queen’s left eyebrow quivered slightly, expressing surprise. “You’re going to be Queen of America?”