“Hell,” I muttered. Maisie would be so upset. “I’ll tell Ella—”
“And Sergeant Wainwright is investigating.”
My heart sank and I groaned. I hated Wainwright. He was an officious idiot who thought he was the Chief Inspector and treated me like I was a probie. We had exchanged some harsh words in the past.
“The thing is, he’s interviewing Maisie Wickham, and I thought you should know—he likes her for murdering him. For running him down deliberately.”
I rubbed my head and said a few words under my breath that I didn’t want Ella or Roberta to hear. Maisie? Ella’s best friend, not to mention the woman who convinced me to come to England to take care of Lily? Wonderful. I ended the call and looked over at Ella who was trying to get Sherlock to sit properly. How did I tell her it looked like her best friend was about to get arrested for murder?
Chapter Three
Petronella
“Well, that’s just impossible. You must be joking.”
Garrett frowned and couldn’t quite meet my eyes. “No. Ella, I’m really sorry. Roger passed away in surgery, and Wainwright is apparently detaining Maisie. She did run over him and they’re saying it might have been deliberate.”
“Who’s saying it? That-that detective Wainwright? Why on earth would that man think that Maisie would do something like that? Roger was her boyfriend! She cares for him!” I knew I was shouting, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I kept picturing Maisie’s distraught face the night before as we sat in A&E. Then later, when they told her they were rushing Roger to surgery, and we moved upstairs to wait again. She’d been so upset.
“I know.” Garrett moved closer and began to rub my arm comfortingly. He was such a large, warm presence beside me I couldn’t help but lean into him a little. He slipped an arm around my waist. “I’m sure it’s some kind of mistake,” Garrett was saying.
“But how could Wainwright think such a thing?”
“I don’t know. Roberta didn’t have any details, but I can make some calls and try to find out.”
“Could you please? Oh my goodness, Maisie must be so upset. First to lose Roger that way and then to have the police accuse her of deliberately killing him.” I pulled out my phone and started looking through my contacts. “I have to call her dad.”
“Look, why don’t you do that, and I’ll take the dogs for a quick walk and meet you back at the house. I still have to break the news to Lily, and I know she’s not going to take the news about Maisie well.”
“You’re right, but I’ll tell her. Just go, so you can hurry back. In the meantime, I’ll speak to Lily and call Maisie’s dad to see what he knows about all this.”
“Okay,” he said, still standing there, shifting his feet on the path. “If you’re sure you’re all right?”
“I am,” I said, forcing a little smile. “Just worried about Maisie. But go ahead and take Sherlock and Watson. They’re excited about their walk, and we can’t disappoint them. This is all just some massive mistake. It has to be.”
He left after I reassured him again that I was fine, and I turned to go back to the house and talk to Lily. My head was actually pounding, but I didn’t want to tell Garrett or I’d never have got him to go along with the dogs. I hadn’t returned home until the wee hours of the morning, and then I’d tossed and turned, unable to get even a few hours of sleep. Lily was so excited about her birthday surprise for Garrett, so I couldn’t miss it. When seven o’clock came, I’d dragged myself from bed, fed Pawdry Hepburn and Sherlock, then made myself a big pot of coffee. After a shower, a couple of aspirin and a big cup of caffeine, I was feeling human enough to go next door with Garrett’s gift. Really, I wouldn’t have liked to miss it, no matter how little sleep I’d had.
I hadn’t been able to get much out of Maisie the night before. She’d told me very little, but then we were sitting in A&E surrounded by the kinds of people you sometimes find in hospitals in the middle of the night—the very young and the very old, and those far too sick to wait until morning. It was a busy scene, even in the middle of the night, and not overly conducive to long heart to hearts.
It was a little better once we’d moved upstairs to the surgical waiting area, and before Roger’s brother and his stepmother had arrived at the hospital. It was then she told me a little about how she’d come to be driving his car and how she’d found him on the road.
“It was awful, Petronella. I had dropped Lily off and was in a hurry to get back to the pub. I knew you’d be wanting to get home soon, and I still had to close up. I wanted to check on Roger again too, because when I left, he was passed out in my car in the parking lot. I was hurrying back when I rounded the curve and was blinded by the headlamps from my car, which was somehow in the ditch by the side of the road. Thank God, I managed to slow way down when those bright lights blinded me, but as I got closer to the car, I saw a brief shadow and felt the car bump into something. I jumped from the car and I-I saw him lying there.” She shuddered and I put my arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, but I just keep reliving it. At first I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, and then…” She began wringing her hands. “He groaned and I knew I’d hit a person. I’d hit him! I didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t fully conscious and he kept moaning. I couldn’t seem to make sense of why he was there and what had happened.”
“You were in shock.”
“I guess so. He was so injured...” She pressed her hand to her mouth.
“I know, don’t think about it just now. It just makes you upset. But what do you think happened? Why did he try to drive? How did he get your keys?”
“I always keep them in the visor on the driver’s side. He knew that. As for why he left, I don’t know. We’d had words earlier in the evening,” she glanced over at me and blushed. “You know how it is. It was nothing serious, but I had got a little jealous and-and I said a few things and he said a few…then I told him he needed to go home. But he’d been drinking, so I told him he needed to sleep it off some in his car, or that I’d take him back to my house for the night. Or he could call someone to pick him up. I told him I’d check on him as soon as I could, but I was working and we got busy for a while. He’d promised me he wouldn’t drink anymore.”
“So he was still in your car when you left with Lily?”
“Yes, I saw him slumped over in my front seat and I couldn’t wake him. I don’t know why he went all the way around to the far side of the pub to my car, actually. His own car was parked right by the entrance. Anyway, when I saw him passed out in my front seat, I just took his car. I had taken his keys earlier so I had them in my pocket. I had to get Lily home and besides, she’s never liked Roger much. She’d have only given me another lecture on why he was no good for me. It was easier just to take his car. Anyway, I thought I’d check on him when I got back and wake him up. I was only gone about ten minutes. Maybe a bit longer as I waited for Lily to let the dog out and then get back inside the house.”
“Do you think Roger woke up and tried to drive home?”
“I don’t know. He must have. But if he did, why did he run off the road that way and then try to get out of the car and out onto the road? Was he that drunk? He didn’t seem to be when he left the pub or I would never have left him alone so long.”
“I don’t know. You can ask him when he wakes up.”
“If he does…” She shook her head, sitting still for a few moments and then tears slid down her cheeks as she started wringing her hands. “Oh, why did I tell him to leave? If I hadn’t he might still be…” She glanced over at me. “What if he doesn’t make it?”
“Don’t think that way. My mom always says ‘don’t borrow trouble.’ She has a million of those old sayings, and I never really understood more than half of them. Like who would I borrow it from even if I wanted some?”
She’d smiled the tiniest bit, shaking her head. Of course, I’d been trying to distract her, so I was glad to see even a hint of a smile. The truth was, Roger’s
situation was grave. The doctor who had come out to speak to us before he was taken into surgery said as much. He’d mentioned internal bleeding and severe head trauma, and I think Maisie stopped listening after that. Roger’s brother and his stepmother had arrived then, and it was a relief in a way to see them, though neither of them were particularly friendly.
It was a terrible time for them, of course, but neither of them thanked Maisie for staying with him until they arrived or acknowledged her in any way, until after the doctor left, when Mrs. Battersley gave her Maisie an unpleasant look.
“I understand Roger had been drinking at your pub before this happened, and they told us downstairs that his blood alcohol level was above the legal limits. Why didn’t you cut him off? How could you let him drive that way?”
Maisie recoiled and started crying, and that’s when I stepped in. “Maisie did cut him off and sent him to sleep it off in his car. But he got into hers instead. She told him she’d drive him home or he could stay at her house for the night, but he chose to drive away in Maisie’s car. And for some reason to drive in a drunken state, run his car in a ditch and then get out and stand in the middle of the road. I hate to say it, but this is all his own fault.”
“All his fault? This woman ran over my stepson!” She shot us both a dirty look, and if looks alone could have killed, Maisie and I both would have dropped dead on the floor. Roger’s brother, whose name, Maisie had told me, was Nigel, pulled his stepmother away without another word. They sat on a sofa across the room from us, after that, shooting us an occasional evil look. I half expected one of them to jump to their feet at any moment, point their finger at us and yell, “J'accuse!”
It wasn’t until there had been a serious accident on the A34 an hour or so later and the waiting room started filling up that I finally took my leave of Maisie.
“Are you sure it’s all right?” She glanced around her at the packed waiting room and the number of people standing between her and Roger’s relatives.
“Yes, I think it’ll be fine. Go ahead. I feel like I should stay until Roger comes out of surgery, at least, but my dad is on his way. He’ll be here in a few minutes, and he can give me a ride home.”
“If you’re sure, then?”
“Yes, please go home and get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning.”
So now, hours later, I was left wondering if she ever got home at all or was she still sitting in some police station in Newbury, tired, heartsick and worried half to death?
I found Lily at the sink washing dishes. “Lily, what in the world? You better not let Garrett catch you doing those dishes by hand with that shiny new machine there next to you.”
She turned a surprised face toward me. “Ella!” She had taken recently to calling me the same nickname Garrett did. “Oh my goodness, you gave me a start—where did you come from?”
“I cancelled my walk, and Garrett is taking the dogs around. We got some bad news from Roberta. Roger Battersley died last night during surgery, and they couldn’t revive him. Then that stupid detective Wainwright is trying to prove Maisie hit him deliberately!”
Lily, who had been in the act of drying her hands, dropped the towel and sat down hard on the kitchen chair behind her. “He thinks Maisie did what? But that’s outrageous! Maisie would never harm anyone on purpose.”
“I know. But that’s what Roberta told Garrett on the phone. And what’s worse, Wainwright is using the word murder.”
“Oh my heavens, that’s insane.”
“I know, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it. I’ve been trying to call Eric all the way back to your house and couldn’t get him to answer. I’m about to try again.”
“Would you like another cup of your coffee?” she asked, gesturing toward my big thermos I used to bring the coffee to Garrett each morning.
“Yes, that would be lovely, thanks.”
A few minutes later, I had Eric on the phone, and he sounded very distraught and very angry. “I can’t talk, Petronella. I’m going to collect Maisie. They just said she can come home.”
“I can’t believe they think she hit Roger on purpose.”
“They don’t have any real evidence, but Wainwright seems to have the bit between his teeth, because she’s your friend.”
“Me?” I squeaked out in surprise. “But what have I got to do with anything? I barely know the man. What on earth did I do to him?”
“It’s not what you did. It’s who you know.”
I was silent a second, but then I worked it out. “Garrett? This is because that small-minded idiot doesn’t like Garrett, and he knows we’re friends?” It was beyond ridiculous, not to mention unprofessional in the extreme.
“From the talk I’ve heard at the pub, he’s never forgiven Garrett for making a fool of him in front of the Inspector.”
“Oh, he didn’t,” I replied. “Wainwright managed that all on his own.”
“I’ll have her call you when I get her home, Petronella. I have to go now.”
“Yes, of course. Goodbye, Eric.”
I rang off and turned to Lily, who was staring at me in shock. She had apparently overheard most of the conversation. “They’ve all lost their minds, Ella. Those detectives in Newbury.”
I put a hand to my forehead, which was pounding again. “You can say that again, Lily. And I’m afraid Wainwright is just getting started.”
Chapter Four
Garrett
I rang off after Tom told me Maisie was being allowed to come home, but really, with no witnesses and no forensics as yet, they couldn’t do anything else, and I felt guilty to be pleased. But I didn’t want to arrest Ella’s best friend. Not that I thought Maisie had done it, or was even likely to be involved, given the fact that she was a personal friend. I’d have loved to swear Maisie just wasn’t the type to resort to violence, but I was glad I was a few thousand miles away when I got the vocal pummeling she gave me over neglecting Nan. Police had to go with the evidence. I just hoped Wainwright remembered that.
I’d missed my coffee the next morning, because Ella had gone on some call about a dog swallowing something it shouldn’t, and I was grumpy. I was perfectly capable of getting my own coffee, and for the millionth time wondered why I just didn’t buy a machine.
Because I liked it too much when Ella brought me some, I ruefully admitted. Not because I wanted to be waited on—not at all. I enjoyed seeing her every morning and it was as simple—and as complicated—as that. Roberta was off today after working all weekend, and I already had a call over in Woolhampton. It would take me a little over thirty minutes to get there. Something to do with property damage, although the message I had gotten wasn’t very clear, just that there was no threat to the residents at that address so not an emergency.
I pulled up at a row of houses that looked like something off a commercial for English country living. Each one “as neat as a pin” as Nan would say, although what was neat about a pin was anyone’s guess. I’d stopped trying to unpack her sayings about a month after I arrived in England, or it would have driven me crazy.
I turned the engine off and stared at the end house. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Every small, nearly identical cottage, set apart only by the color they had painted the doors, had a tiny yard “not big enough to swing a cat in.” I grinned as I got out. That saying I did know. Tom had told me that one. The “cat” in this case wasn’t one of Ella’s furry creatures but the cat-o’-nine tails, or the whip with nine lashes widely used to punish soldiers in the British military. Of course, he did mean in the eighteenth century.
Or at least I hoped he did.
I had to stare at the yard in amazement, because I wasn’t a hundred percent certain if children played in it, or if the little statues all over it were for decoration. What amounted to a scaled down village scene was portrayed in an area of about ten square feet. And garden gnomes—I hated the tacky things—were all posed in various places. Two were fishing at a very tiny lake. One was sitting on a
bench smoking a pipe. Three of them were sunning themselves under mushroom umbrellas and one poor guy seemed to have been caught with his pants down. One seemed to be undecided whether he was climbing out of a well or plunging to his death, although if I had eyebrows like that, I’d be suicidal as well.
The last one by the steps held a sign proclaiming “Gnome Sweet Gnome.” I think he might have had the worst job. At least the others seemed to be sitting around taking a load off.
I rang the doorbell just as the door was practically flung back and a sobbing woman rushed forward. I had a second to open my arms before she threw herself at me. “Constable, it’s awful. I can’t bear to look.”
“Sergeant, ma’am,” I corrected, because sometimes authority helped people calm down. “Shall we step inside?” I managed to shuffle her into the small hallway and closed the door with my foot. “Miss Edgeware?”
Another round of sobs commenced, during which I at least managed to establish this was indeed Miss Edgeware, the owner of the house and the person who had reported the incident. “Perhaps we can put the kettle on?” I asked, channeling my nan, who insisted a cup of tea cured everything.
But Miss Edgeware lifted her blotchy red face to mine in horror and stepped back. “How can you possibly expect tea when I’m dealing with such a tragedy. Have you no feeling?”
Which pretty much blew Nan’s theories out of the water.
“Perhaps you could tell me what happened then?” I passed her a box of tissues from the side table, and fished into my belt for the small notebook I knew I had in there.
“Murder!” she screeched. “Why is no one listening to me?”
I froze and stood quickly. “Someone’s been hurt, ma’am?” I abandoned the pad and clasped my phone. “Where? Are you injured?” But she was in the middle of another meltdown. “Are you on your own?” I nearly bellowed which startled her enough to shut her up. She nodded silently. “Where is the victim?”
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