Laura Bishop Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Grace Topping

  Leaving church, I saw Sister Madeleine and realized I hadn’t let her know I’d met with my father. She was bound to be curious.

  We greeted each other, and I saw her studying me, probably noting the weariness on my face from lack of sleep. I‘d checked in with Nita several times during the night by text. Thankfully, no one had tried to break in.

  I walked with Sister Madeleine toward the convent nearby. “Thank you for hearing me out the other night and for your guidance. It helped a lot.”

  “I’m always here for you. You know that.”

  I thought of the number of times I’d turned to her for her nonjudgmental guidance. “I know, and I’ve always appreciated it.”

  “You’re here much earlier than usual,” she said.

  I liked a quiet Sunday morning to catch up with myself and usually attended church later in the morning. “I’m picking up Mrs. Webster in a few minutes.” I told Sister Madeleine about the sting operation and Mrs. Webster’s plan to go undercover.

  “You ladies certainly have adventures. It makes me glad I only have to deal with a school filled with high-energy children.”

  That made me smile, remembering I’d been one of them—along with Nita and her five brothers. It wasn’t surprising Sister Madeleine had gone gray. Over the years, she’d been promoted from teacher to principal, assuming more and more responsibility.

  “I’ll pray the sting operation goes successfully and the police get whoever is victimizing the people in this area,” she said.

  “Thank you.” I pressed my lips together.

  “What else is happening? I can see from your face that you’re under extreme stress.”

  “Things have mushroomed since I talked to you.” I told her about the meeting with my father, my visit with Chris, and the notebook Will had found. I’d stayed up half the night studying it.

  “I’m at war with my conscience. Do I turn the notebook over to the police right away or keep it for a few days, trying to decipher it? It’s in some kind of code. I worry it might contain something that could incriminate Chris. You never know how the police interpret things.” I thought of the note Chris had written Beth and how the police had viewed it.

  “Only you can decide what you should do. I’m not savvy with technology, but could you use your cell phone to photograph each page and turn the notebook over to the police sooner than later?

  “Great idea. I should have thought of that.”

  “It makes one wonder why she wrote her journal in code.”

  “Believe me, I’ve wondered the same thing. I heard Beth was secretive, so perhaps the code was her version of a diary with a lock and key.” It reminded me of my locking diary with its pink vinyl cover and a poodle on the front, probably filled with antics Nita and I’d gotten into. With any luck, Beth’s journal would contain something that would point to her killer.

  Chapter 26

  Touch up the paint on doors and shutters. Replace a tired-looking mailbox with a new one.

  Aunt Kit and I had invited Mrs. Webster and Nita to join us for lunch before we dropped Mrs. Webster at the B&B. Aunt Kit would have a chance to tour the mansion, a place she’d heard me talk about. More importantly, while having a look around, I could ask Ron and Geoff, the owners, about the production company members staying there. Maybe they could tell me if any of the members had been out the night Beth had been murdered.

  After we pulled into Mrs. Webster’s driveway, we made a big show of helping her out of the house and into the car. That would further the image of her being feeble and nearly helpless in case anyone was casing her house. Nita followed, carrying Mrs. Webster’s overnight bag.

  “So, where should we have lunch,” I asked, knowing full well where everyone would want to go.

  A chorus of voices responded, “The Orangery.”

  The Orangery, a lovely English-style teashop, would be the perfect place to celebrate Mrs. Webster and Nita’s performances. Its cozy setting would also help everyone relax following yesterday’s adventures.

  Once we arrived and ordered, the conversation quickly came around to the subject we had avoided on the short drive there.

  “How did it go yesterday with the health aide visits?” Aunt Kit asked.

  Mrs. Webster let out a cackle. “Nita and I should receive Academy Awards for our performances.”

  “I dithered as much as I could,” Nita said. “But not too much.”

  “I bored them to death with stories of all my travels and kept repeating myself so they would know I wasn’t all quite there,” Mrs. Webster said. “When Nita left the room, I complained about how I had to hide my prized possessions from her. I tiptoed over to my hiding place and pulled out the cast iron frog my grandfather gave me, my mother’s lace handkerchiefs, and then the necklace Josh loaned me. All hush-hush like. You should have seen the reactions of the morning aide to the necklace. It’s a lovely piece—eighteen karat gold and set with rubies. It’s marked too—Tiffany & Co. I made sure to point out the marking to show the value of the piece.”

  “We were surprised Josh would loan us such fabulous pieces,” Nita said.

  “He has a lot riding on this operation, so I guess he wanted to make sure the bait was worth going after.” I didn’t mention how nervous Josh was about the sting operation. The sooner it was over, the sooner he could relax and not worry about possibly being attacked again—with worse consequences than the last time.

  “That evening, the pearl necklace I showed the second aide was just as impressive,” Mrs. Webster said.

  Aunt Kit hadn’t been convinced the sting operation was going to work. “Do you remember which necklace you showed each of them? That way, the police will know which aide was involved in case only one necklace is stolen?”

  Mrs. Webster patted her purse. “I have it recorded right here in my handbag. I showed the gold and ruby Tiffany necklace to the morning aide and the strand of pearls in the evening. Right, Nita?”

  Nita nodded. “Mrs. Webster made it a point to mention how her late husband brought the pearls back from the South Pacific. Saying they were worth a pretty penny. Listening at the kitchen door, I had to fight to keep from laughing.”

  “My Henry had never been to the South Pacific. It was fun making up those stories. Perhaps I should take up writing. Maybe mysteries.”

  She paused in her story when the waitress brought our orders and placed them on a table that was beautifully set with a heavy pink tablecloth and matching napkins, delicate bone china, and a small arrangement of pink tea roses.

  Mrs. Webster and I’d ordered the Coronation Chicken Salad, an Orangery specialty. It was a delicious combination of chicken, grapes, creamy mayonnaise, and slivered almonds, with a hint of curry and a side of spicy mango chutney. One bite, and I felt like I was having a picnic on the banks of the River Thames.

  Nita opted for Scotch Eggs. Hardboiled eggs coated with sausage meat and breadcrumbs, and deep-fried until golden brown. As usual, Aunt Kit went directly for the sweet stuff, ordering a raisin scone spread with thick cream and raspberry jam.

  No one said anything for several minutes as we enjoyed our food.

  After pouring everyone fragrant English Breakfast Tea from a teapot covered in pink and white roses, I took up the discussion again. “You’ll be glad to know Detective Spangler had the house watched last night in case someone didn’t wait for you to be away tonight.”

  “He texted Nita,” Mrs. Webster said. “We slept much better, knowing that.”

  “I would have slept better if Laura hadn’t kept texting me throughout the night to check on us,” Nita said.

  “So what makes you think they’ll try to get the jewelry tonight?” Aunt Kit asked.

  Mrs. Webster patted her lips with her napkin. “I told the aides I would be away for one night, tonight, and when I returned, my big hulking grandson would be back home with me.
Tonight would be easy for them. Later with Tyrone there, not so easy.”

  I laughed. “Tyrone is tall and lean and not the least bit hulking.”

  “They don’t have to know that.”

  “Maybe you should get a big dog, just in case,” Aunt Kit commented. “Or one of those recordings of a vicious dog growling. If you hear any noise, you could switch it on.”

  After lunch, we started out for the B&B. The glorious autumn day was perfect for a ride, so I took a longer route than usual to get there. We drove through the nearby countryside and a valley with the Allegheny Mountains on both sides of us. The scenery was so relaxing. Once the competition was over, I needed to get out into the countryside more.

  Located on the outskirts of Louiston, the Mansion House Bed and Breakfast sat high on Lookout Hill and provided guests with fabulous views of the surrounding mountains. As kids, the mountainsides with their rounded trees in multiple colors looked to us like colorful bowls of Trix cereal.

  During the drive, I recounted the story of my visit with Chris at the jail. I didn’t mention the journal Will had found. Not able to decipher it, I couldn’t tell them anything about its contents.

  They wanted to learn more about Chris, but other than describing him and saying that he was pleasant, I really couldn’t tell them much more about him than that. Strange to have a brother I knew so little about.

  As we turned into the long tree-lined drive leading to the mansion, I thought how wonderful the place had looked after Tyrone and I staged it. Having worked hard to transform the mansion, I felt as proud of the place as the current owners.

  As we approached the three-storied limestone building, Aunt Kit gasped. “Oh, my. That is quite a place.” She sounded a bit wistful. “Do you think they have another room?”

  “Possibly, but Inky would miss you,” I said.

  I pulled into the circular drive in front. Ron and Geoff, the owners, stood on the wide porch that fronted the house. Several wooden rocking chairs on the porch provided a comfortable place for guests to relax after a day of sightseeing. During the summer, Ron and Geoff served cool afternoon drinks like Pymm’s No. 1 Cup with savory delicacies Ron made.

  Descending the steps, Ron and Geoff greeted us.

  “Welcome to Mansion House,” Geoff said. Seeing Aunt Kit’s puzzled look, he said, “I know. Mansion means house, but we liked the sound of it and risked sounding redundant.”

  Ron took Mrs. Webster’s case and escorted us into the mansion. They gave Mrs. Webster star treatment, checking her in and showing her to her room. We trailed behind her, wanting to view the luxurious accommodation. Gold silk draperies hung from the tall ceiling at each corner of the enormous four-poster bed. A stool with three steps stood next to the bed to enable guests to get into it.

  At the far end of the room, logs filled the Carrera marble fireplace, ready to be set ablaze. The shiny hardwood floors glowed in the afternoon sunshine coming in through the tall windows. On either side of the bed lay the lovely antique rugs I’d rescued from the attic and had cleaned. It was such a lovely room I wanted to stay there myself. Someday, I’d have to treat myself to an overnight stay.

  Ron gave us a tour of the mansion, and again, I got to admire the tall, coffered ceilings, the Carrera marble fireplaces, and the other oversized features of the house. It was hard to remember the dismal place it had been before Tyrone and I worked our magic there, decluttering, painting, and removing excess furniture. I noticed changes Ron and Geoff had made since they moved in and approved of them. They’d done an excellent job making the place their own.

  After the tour, we adjourned to the living room. Geoff invited us to sit down, and Ron rolled out an old-fashioned tea trolley with refreshments. A silver tea service with dainty china cups and saucers rested on the top shelf. The other shelves contained trays covered with colorful macarons, shortbread biscuits, and finger sandwiches with a variety of fillings, each topped with slices of strawberries and mint leaves. After the lunch we’d enjoyed at the Orangery, I was amazed I could eat again. But everything looked so delicious. This certainly had been a day for being served so elegantly.

  As we enjoyed our refreshments, I asked Geoff about the production company members who were staying there, primarily Simon and Olivia, along with the show hosts, Robin and Luke. The remaining crew was staying in town at the Louiston Inn.

  “Geoff, last Sunday night, the night Beth Crawford was murdered, do you know if any of your guests from the production company were out that evening or got in unusually late?”

  He pondered that. “It seemed like they were all here, but any of them could have gone out and come back, and we wouldn’t have known it. We installed a keyless lock on the door, and guests punch in a code to come and go. That way, we don’t have to stay up to let guests in or give them keys.

  “It’s saved us money over time.” Ron added. “Guests forget to turn in their keys and don’t bother to mail them back. Before we got this lock, I continually had to have new keys made.”

  Ron passed a tray of the macarons. “Why do you ask? You aren’t looking into that young women’s murder investigation, are you? Did you even know her well?”

  “We have to discover who killed her since Laura’s brother is accused of the murder.” Nita saw my startled look and flinched. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t be long before everyone in town knows.”

  Geoff looked perplexed. “I didn’t know you have a brother.”

  “Neither did I.” The look on Geoff’s face made me and the others laugh. I told him the story. Afterward, I realized with each telling, I was able to laugh about it, which made it easier.

  “I’d like to believe Chris didn’t do it. But to prove it, I need to find out who did.”

  The problem was how. Beth’s journal came to mind. If I could interpret her code, I might be able to discover something. But my chances of doing that were as slim as my ability to decipher the Enigma code.

  Chapter 27

  In cooler seasons, build a fire in the fireplace or turn on gas logs to create a cozy setting. No fireplace? Light candles and add throws.

  After leaving the B&B, Nita and I dropped Aunt Kit at home. She had just downloaded Gretchen Archer’s latest Davis Way Mystery and was anxious to get into it. “I need a good laugh after the events of this week.”

  Anxious to see if anything was happening at Mrs. Webster’s house, Nita and I drove down her street to check for any police activity there. The trees and long afternoon shadows made it difficult to see much. I hoped the surveillance team had a better view than we did.

  We continued to Vocaro’s, where Guido planned to pick up Nita for Music Man rehearsals. Tyrone was working behind the counter and made the hot chocolate we’d decided to treat ourselves to.

  “Any word about what’s happening at the house?” Tyrone was as anxious as we were.

  “Not yet. We’ll keep you posted if we hear anything. Where are you staying tonight?”

  “One of my buddies has a place nearby. He said I could crash there. Before that, I’m leaving in a few minutes to make some minor changes to the stage settings. I’ll see you there, Nita.”

  We said our goodbyes to Tyrone, found comfortable club chairs near the fireplace with its blazing fire, and sat down to enjoy our hot chocolate, heaped with whipped cream. The fire warmed us now that the sun was setting and the day had turned cooler.

  I took a sip of hot chocolate and sighed in contentment. After everything we had eaten that day, I didn’t need any additional calories, but the chocolate was so soothing. Just one sip, and tension eased from my body. Some people turned to wine to relax. I turned to chocolate.

  Nita wiped some whipped cream from the tip of her nose. Just then, she froze. “Don’t look now, but my cousin Ted just stood up over there and is getting ready to leave. You absolutel
y are not going to believe who’s with him?

  Since Ted was representing Chris, I hoped it wasn’t my father.

  “Monica Heller!” Nita said.

  What? I couldn’t help it. I automatically turned in their direction. Monica had been our classmate through school and had made our lives, especially mine, miserable with her bullying. Later, when I came to suspect she and my late husband had been involved, things had become worse between us. It was only recently we’d been able to bury the hatchet—and that was primarily because I’d saved her from going to prison for life—long story.

  Seeing Ted with Monica astounded us. They were light years apart. Beautiful and sophisticated, Monica easily attracted men. Ted was so reserved and serious, his family was still surprised he hadn’t gone into the priesthood. While Monica spent Saturday nights at the country club, Ted preferred quiet evenings at home with a good book. Perhaps they had just run into each other here. But if they had become more than friends, how had Ted kept it from Nita and the family?

  Monica caught sight of us and waved before making her way to the exit. Ted looked like he was warring with himself whether to escape or be polite and say hello to his cousin and me, who had been like a cousin to him.

  “Take a seat, Ted,” Nita said as he approached.

  Oh, boy. I hope Nita didn’t intend to grill him about Monica. I liked Ted and decided to give him a reprieve.

  “Hi, Ted. I can’t tell you how pleased I am you’re going to represent Chris Channing. I suppose you heard he’s my half-brother—newly discovered.”

  Ted sat down. “I heard that. When I asked Phillip Channing who’d recommended me, he said you had—that you were his daughter. Then, of course, I heard it from the family. It was quite a surprise since you’d always said your father was dead.”

  “I thought he was. His reappearance was quite a shock. It was great, however, to discover I have a brother—and a sister. But having a brother in prison isn’t going to help us build much of a family relationship. Will you be able to help Chris?”