by J New
Death at the Duck Pond
A Finch & Fischer Mystery
J. New
Copyright © J. New 2019
The right of J. New to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or transmitted into any retrieval system, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design copyright © J. New
Cover illustration: William Webb
Cover typography: Mariah Sinclair
BOOKS BY J. NEW
The Finch & Fischer Mysteries
Decked in the Hall
Death at the Duck Pond
Battered to Death
The Yellow Cottage Vintage Mysteries
The Yellow Cottage Mystery (FREE)
An Accidental Murder
The Curse of Arundel Hall
A Clerical Error
The Riviera Affair
Full details on these and future books in the series can be found here.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
One
Strangers to the village of Cherrytree Downs had been known to gawk, overcome with curiosity, at the crowd of locals gathered around the converted VW camper-van parked by the village green on a Thursday, week in, week out. Anyone taking a closer look soon realised its location in the prime parking space beside the picnic area was no accident, the nearby tables and benches doubling as a waiting and browsing area for the steady stream of people entering and leaving the van from morning until mid-afternoon, when it trundled on its way. The buzz of conversation, laughter and sometimes raised voices that filled the centre of the village when the van was in situ, rain or shine, were all testament to its importance in the community. To what, one may have wondered, did the van owe its lure?
In the midst of it all could be found Penny Finch, mobile librarian and owner of the van, doling out book recommendations and down-to-earth conversation in equal measure. Her constant companion, Fischer, a rescue pup, was also on hand, providing entertainment and making himself available for cuddles. Ever since Penny had adopted Fischer several months before, she was sure the library van attendance had increased.
“That’ll be twenty pence, please, Mrs Nelson. I’m afraid your books are late again,” Penny said, smiling at the elderly woman facing her. Popular as well as fair, Penny wasn’t afraid to pull any punches, especially when it came to library fines. Certain people were regular offenders, and if she didn’t follow through and insist on payment, chaos would reign. Her fiancé, Edward, scoffed at what he considered the futility of the fines system, but Penny disagreed.
Mrs Nelson scowled back at her. Penny didn’t know her very well, she was a newcomer to the village, but what she’d seen of her so far hadn’t been favourable. Cantankerous was the word which sprang to mind. “Twenty pence? It’s not my fault I couldn’t bring them back on time. The weather’s been awful. I’ve barely been out the door.”
Penny’s smile remained fixed in place. “I understand, Mrs Nelson. But I have to enforce the rules for everyone, or else I’ll get into trouble.”
The old woman pulled out her purse, grumbling all the while. “I still think it’s ridiculous, penalising seniors. I can barely survive on my pension as it is.” She shoved a handful of coppers at Penny, her face sour. “Here. I’ve a good mind to complain. I had none of this nonsense in Africa. There, I was trusted with the books I wished to read.”
Penny counted out the coins as she placed them through the slot in the lid of the fines tin. As she had suspected, they fell short of the full amount. “Do you have another two pence, Mrs Nelson?” Having seen the wad of notes stuffed inside Mrs Nelson’s purse, the diamond earrings and the antique brooch affixed to the lapel of her cashmere coat, Penny couldn’t understand her vociferous objection to the fines system, she was obviously a woman of means. But she wasn’t intimidated by the defiant glare she received in return.
Another coin was duly produced, and Mrs Nelson left in a huff, but not before Penny had thanked her politely. She looked up at the next customer and beamed in recognition.
“Hello, Mr Kelly. How are you, this grey afternoon? Did you have a nice time in Florida?”
Penny had recently become good friends with Mr Kelly, the retired head teacher of the local primary school, when the two of them had helped the police solve the murder of a local woman in the run up to Christmas. In the weeks since, she had not seen Mr Kelly on the library van’s visits to his home village of Rowan Downs on Mondays and had heard he was away.
Mr Kelly patted Fischer, who upon recognising the voice of a friend had appeared at his ankles, produced a treat from his pocket and was rewarded with one of the little dogs tricks, a ‘high-five’ and a bark of hello.
“It was marvellous, Penny. Did me the world of good. My arthritis plays up no end in this weather,” he motioned to the drizzle outside. “I’m not sure I’d like to spend the whole winter there like my sister and her friends, but a couple of weeks in the sun in January makes a very pleasant change from cold, wet Blighty, let me tell you.”
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I’ve got a few new mystery books in stock, if you’d like to have a look?”
Mr Kelly’s eyes twinkled. “I would, very much, but I’ll wait until you’re in Rowan Downs on Monday, if that’s all right? It’ll save me carrying them, as I’m off for a walk before meeting my daughter later. I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions, but I’m aiming for five thousand steps a day ever since the doctor insisted I exercise my new hip as much as possible. I even have one of these.” He pushed up his coat sleeve to reveal a pedometer strapped to his left wrist, no bigger than a watch. “It’s a marvellous bit of kit. Anyway, I wondered if Fischer would like to join me?”
Fischer yelped and wagged his tail before taking a spin around Mr Kelly’s legs.
“There’s your answer, Mr Kelly, he understood every word you said.” Penny chuckled. “He’s making me dizzy just looking at him. I’ll get you his lead.” Reaching into the front of the van, she glanced at the time on the clock on the dashboard as she did so. “I’ve to go to Winstoke soon to restock the van,” she said, turning back to fix Fischer’s lead to his harness. “Do you mind dropping him off at my parents’ house when you’re finished? I’ll pick him up when I get back to Cherrytree Downs later.”
With the exception of her time at university, Penny had lived in the village all her life. City living did not appeal to her, and despite having travelled widely on holiday there was no other place she would rather be. Certain of her own mind, she had never felt she was missing out or had a desire to live elsewhere. Her small thatched cottage had a view of the green and her parents lived several streets away
in the larger home she had grown up in. With her favourite people, her best friend Susie included, all living within a small radius, she considered herself fortunate.
“I’ll do that, no problem.” Mr Kelly tugged Fischer’s lead. “Have a nice weekend, Penny. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“You too, and thanks.” Penny turned to Fischer, “Be a good boy, you hear me? No pulling on your lead.” The small Jack Russell Terrier ignored her, skipping down the van steps ahead of his walking companion. As Mr Kelly made his way out, holding the handrail, Fischer jumped impatiently up and down, to the delight of the people outside watching.
“Fischer’s such a darling,” Katy Lowry, the barmaid at the Pig and Fiddle said, as she handed Penny two books to be checked out. A keen romance reader, she favoured chunky tomes with high levels of heat, affectionately known as bonkbusters, and devoured them as soon as they appeared on the shelves. With the books now in her possession for the week, she gave a hearty wave, jumped down the steps and ran across the green to begin her shift at the pub.
Penny’s final customer was the elderly Mrs Davenport, a lover of historical fiction. As she handed Penny her choice for that week she leaned closer.
“Penny, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Katy. Could you tell me, what actually is a bonkbuster?”
Penny smiled and beckoned her closer, whispering the answer in her ear.
“My, my, how astonishing. I’ve never heard the term before.”
“A word for the new millennium, Mrs Davenport.”
“Is it in the dictionary, dear?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Well, I shall purchase a new one immediately. It will certainly make my weekly scrabble games much more interesting!”
Penny’s drive home from the main library in Winstoke that evening was slow, despite the short distance. The camper van was stuck behind a tractor for most of the five-mile trip, which provided her with the chance to listen to the Beginner’s Italian CD her parents had bought her for Christmas. She repeated the words after the instructor attempting to mimic his accent. There were no overtaking spots along the winding road but she didn’t mind in the least. Life in the slow lane was no hardship when one lived in the moment and was happy to give way to a rabbit or a fox on the roadside. The commuters whizzing in and out of the six villages that made up Hampsworthy Downs in their flashy cars never ceased to amaze her. What was the point of living somewhere so beautiful, if one was in too much of a hurry to appreciate it? Their irresponsibility also made her blood boil. It was dangerous, not only for other car users and pedestrians, but for the wildlife.
Penny parked the van outside her cottage in its usual spot beside the blue Ford Fiesta belonging to her neighbour. The row of five quaint cottages did not have driveways or garages, and there was no designated on-street parking, but residents were respectful about leaving a space outside someone else’s home if that person had a car. The fact that the library van took up a larger space than the neighbours’ vehicles was never a problem, as a couple of the older residents didn’t drive and only needed a parking space when they had visitors.
“Hello, Mrs Montague,” she said to an elderly woman who was walking past as she opened the garden gate. “You’re early this evening, or am I terribly late?”
Penny and Fischer often bumped into Mrs Montague on their evening walk after dinner, which took them across the village green, around the duck pond, and as far as the church and back. Mrs Montague was known to drive into the village in her Land Rover and do a circuit of the village at a similar time, before heading back to her manor house on the hill overlooking Cherrytree Downs.
Mrs Montague stopped and smiled. “Good evening, Penelope. Probably a bit of both. I’m meeting someone later, so I thought I’d take a quick scoot to the Pig and Fiddle first and treat myself to a bite of dinner.”
“That sounds lovely.” The food at the village pub, was legendary, and had won several gastropub awards. Penny and Edward often went there for lunch on a Sunday, but rarely during the week. “Thursday night’s the pub quiz, so it will be busy.”
Mrs Montague flashed her a girlish grin. “I know. All the better. I’m pretty good at general knowledge, if I say so myself. Not that I’m staying for long, of course.” She raised an arm to tuck her scarf into her collar, revealing several large rings on her bony hand. “I’d best be off. Good night, Penelope, dear. Good night, Fischer.”
“Good night, Mrs Montague. Enjoy yourself.”
Penny found herself smiling as she let herself into the house. Mrs Montague’s joie de vivre was contagious. She picked up the post from the mat and after flicking through the envelopes to see if there was anything of interest, set them on the hall table. It looked like bills and marketing offers, which meant the envelopes would remain unopened for days. All of Penny’s bills were paid by direct debit, meaning she never had to worry about missing a payment. Edward checked her finances every quarter as well, to ensure there was nothing amiss. It was one of the perks of being engaged to an accountant.
In the living room, she pulled on a heat-resistant mitt and opened the wood burning stove to stoke the embers before adding a couple of logs to get it going again. Then, only after she had wandered into the kitchen and flipped the switch on the kettle, did she go back into the hallway and take off her coat, hanging it up on its peg. Several minutes later she was ensconced in an armchair in front of the fire, a cup of cinnamon and rooibos tea in hand, and a book on her knee. She had arranged to pick Fischer up from her parents’ house after she had eaten, but first, she wanted to savour her favourite part of the week. Much as she loved her job, she adored getting home from work on Thursdays, because it was the start of her weekend. Reducing her working week had been an unexpected consequence of being employed by the cash-strapped Hantchester Borough Council, but it had turned out well and Penny wasn’t complaining.
Penny stretched out her arm to silence the alarm clock on the bedside table and pulled the covers tight, enjoying another couple of minutes of sleepy comfort before the snooze feature set the alarm ringing again. Pulling herself up and swinging her legs out, her feet found their way into the cosy slippers waiting by the side of the bed. She switched off the alarm, turned on the lamp, and padded into the bathroom. The sound of the toilet flushing was Fischer’s wakeup call, and she knew he would be waiting for her, ear cocked, in his basket in the living room by the fire when she descended the stairs.
“How’s my little Fish Face this morning?” she said, crouching down to stroke his warm fur. “Pretending to be asleep, are we?” Fischer opened his eyes and rolled on his back for a tummy rub, his tail thumping in anticipation. “Come on, little man, let’s have breakfast and then we’ll get ready for our walk.”
Even before she had rescued Fischer from certain death several months earlier, Penny had always been an early riser, so sticking to their routine wasn’t hard on the days she did not work. Susie had been shocked when she learned Penny got up at 6.45am every day without fail and tried to talk her out of it.
“Penny, are you serious?” Susie’s eyes were the size of saucers. “The least you could do is allow yourself an extra half an hour’s beauty sleep on your days off. At our age, goodness knows we need it. Ever since both my children stopped waking me up at the crack of dawn, I’ve grabbed every last second of slumber I can get. Especially recently.”
“Well I have Fischer to think of,” Penny reasoned. “And your weekdays are a lot more manic than mine, so it’s no wonder you’re exhausted by the weekend.” Susie was separated from her husband and as well as her single-parenting duties, had a job at the local newspaper as a Junior Reporter. Penny knew her friend loved the work but struggled sometimes like any working mother. She admired how Susie was coping, despite the emotional and financial stress she had been going through since her husband had left her.
“Well, if you ever need a break, send Fis
cher around to my house. Billy and Ellen adore him. They’d love a dog, but they know it’s not a good time right now. Fischer can be their surrogate pet.”
Penny had agreed, if only to keep Susie happy. She could not imagine ever needing a break from her furry sidekick.
After seeing to Fischer, she was adding a spoonful of Manuka honey to her bowl of porridge when her phone buzzed, and Susie’s name flashed up on the screen. Given the early hour, Penny sensed something was wrong before she answered the call. Susie would be up for work and busy getting her children out to school, but there was no way she would be telephoning her at this time of the morning unless it was urgent. She held the device to her ear, her heart pounding.
“Susie? Is something wrong?”
Susie sounded breathless. “Yes. Have you looked out of your front window this morning?”
Penny started walking towards the living room. “No, I haven’t even opened the curtains yet. It’s still dark. Why?”
“I’m on my way over there now to start covering a story for The Gazette. Billy’s going to walk Ellen to school. Quick, tell me, what can you see?”
Penny pulled back a heavy velvet curtain and peered outside. “Oh, my word.” A small crowd was gathered at the edge of the village green, which was illuminated by several wrought-iron lamp posts and the flashing lights of a police car and an ambulance. “The green’s closed off with police tape. PC Bolton is there, and an ambulance, and several more people.” She squinted through the glass to make them out. “I think it’s Dr Jones from The Rough Spot and the postman, and some paramedics. Oh, and a man in shorts. What’s going on? It’s a wonder I didn’t hear the sirens.”
“There was a 999 call just after five this morning, so they’ve been there for a while.” Susie’s voice cracked. “Oh, Penny. It’s bad news, I’m afraid.”
“Go on.” Penny held her breath.
“An elderly woman has been found dead in the duck pond. The body hasn’t been formally identified, but apparently, it’s Myrtle Montague.”