THE JACKSON CASE
A Markham Sisters Cozy Mystery Novella
DIANA XARISSA
Text Copyright © 2017 Diana Xarissa
All Rights Reserved
Created with Vellum
Contents
Author’s Note
Letter to Bessie, part one
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Letter to Bessie, part two
Glossary of Terms
Other Notes
Acknowledgments
The Kingston Case
Also by Diana Xarissa
About the Author
Author’s Note
I hope everyone reading this is having as much fun with the Markham sisters as I am. This is the tenth novella in the series, and I have so many more plans for them. I always suggest that you read the series in order (alphabetically) as the characters and their relationships change and develop as the series continues. If you choose not to do so, each novella should be enjoyable on its own, however.
The novellas are opened and closed with sections of letters from Janet Markham to her friend Bessie Cubbon on the Isle of Man. The sisters originally appeared in Aunt Bessie Decides in my Isle of Man Cozy Mystery series. You do not need to read that series to enjoy this one. (By the way, the sisters will be revisiting the island in Aunt Bessie Observes, which will take place between this novella and the next one.)
I do use English spellings and terms as the books are set in the UK. A glossary of terms and some other notes are included at the back of the book for readers in other parts of the world. The longer I live in the US, the more likely it is that American words and spellings will sneak in. I do my best to limit those.
This is a work of fiction and all of the characters are fictional creations. Any resemblance that they may share with any real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The sisters live in a fictional village in Derbyshire. Although some shops or businesses may bear some resemblance to real-life businesses, that is also coincidental.
I’m always happy to hear from my readers. All of my contact details are available in the back of the book. Please let me know your thoughts about my books (or anything else you have on your mind). I also have a newsletter that goes out once a month and provides information about upcoming releases. You can sign up for the newsletter on my website or my Facebook page.
30 April 1999
Dearest Bessie,
I’m writing this in between sorting my clothes and starting to pack. I can’t believe that we will be on our way to see you in such a short time.
All of your questions about Alberta Montgomery made me smile. I, too, would like answers to them, but that’s proving more difficult than anticipated.
While planning for the trip has been occupying a great deal of my time, we’ve had a little excitement again in Doveby Dale. It all started when our neighbour, Stuart Long, asked for a favour.
Chapter 1
“And that’s that,” Janet said, pushing the front door of Doveby House shut behind the second couple that had spent the weekend at the bed and breakfast. “They weren’t too bad, at least.”
Joan nodded. “It does seem as if we’ve had quite a few difficult guests lately,” she said. “But both couples this weekend were quite reasonable.”
“At least they didn’t stay out late, and they had their breakfasts at a reasonable hour, as well.”
“I am looking forward to our holiday,” Joan admitted. “It will be nice to not have to worry about anyone other than myself for an entire week.”
“What about me?” Janet demanded with a laugh.
“You can look after yourself,” Joan told her. “And Aggie.”
Janet looked at the kitten who was chasing her tail in circles and nodded. “I think I can manage that,” she said.
The sisters had owned Doveby House, a seventeenth-century manor house in the village of Doveby Dale, for less than a year, and they were both still adjusting to the demands of owning a bed and breakfast. They were retired schoolteachers, who had lived together their entire lives. Janet, two years younger than Joan, had always been the more adventurous of the sisters, so she’d been shocked when Joan had suggested that they spend an unexpected inheritance on Doveby House. Janet had never known that her sister had always wanted to own a bed and breakfast, but now that they were both retired, it seemed the perfect time to make her dream come true.
“What are your plans for today?” Joan asked her sister as they walked back into the kitchen.
Janet began filling the dishwasher with the plates and cups from breakfast as she spoke. “Well, we have to get the beds stripped and the bedding washed,” she said. “We don’t have guests again until the weekend, do we?”
“No; at least no one has booked.”
“And if anyone just turns up, we’ll send them away,” Janet said firmly.
“We’ve an expensive holiday coming up,” Joan reminded her. “A little extra income wouldn’t hurt.”
“I thought I might try ringing Winifred Godfrey again,” Janet changed the subject. “Martha thought he would be eager to talk to me about Alberta, but he never rings me back.”
“Maybe he’s away at the moment. How many messages have you left for the man?”
“Only three,” Janet said sheepishly.
“We’re both eager to learn more about Alberta, but you shouldn’t pester the poor man. I’m sure he’ll ring you when he has the time.”
Janet nodded, but she wasn’t happy about it. Besides Doveby House, their property included a small carriage house that was full of boxes. Occasionally Joan would insist that the sisters work on clearing it out. One of the boxes had been full of letters and diaries that had belonged to Alberta Montgomery, who had grown up in the house in the nineteen twenties and thirties. A second box was full of copies of a book of poetry that she’d written and had had privately published. Both sisters had read the first few poems in the book and neither had been impressed with the woman’s poetic abilities. They were both fascinated by the story of her life, however.
One of Janet’s friends had been able to give them the basic outline, and Janet was eager to learn more. Poor Alberta had apparently fallen to her death from Janet’s bedroom window after seeing her lover with another woman. Her parents, who were angry that Alberta was involved with an unsuitable man, had allegedly locked her in her room that night. According to the story, the moon was full the night that Alberta died. Since they’d purchased the house, Janet had been woken by screams in the night every time there was a full moon. Joan didn’t believe in ghosts, but she refused to try sleeping in Janet’s room during a full moon anyway.
“I need a trip to the supermarket,” Joan said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to come along?”
“I suppose I could,” Janet said. Then I can make sure that we get ice cream and chocolate biscuits, she added to herself.
“Let’s get the guest rooms done and then we can go.”
Janet followed her sister up the stairs. They split up and each went to work in one of the two guest rooms. Bedding and towels were piled up in the hallway before Janet pulled out the vacuum and Joan began to dust. A loud buzzing noise stopped Janet just before she switched on the vacuum.
“What was that?” she asked Joan.
“Was it the buzzer on the doors to the garden?”
“It may have been,” Janet replied. The house had extensive gardens, with large French doors opening into them. As the gardens were fenced, however, it was very rare for someone to arrive a
t those doors. Both sisters went down together to see who was there.
“Ah, ladies,” Stuart Long said. “I was wondering if I could ask you for a favour?”
Stuart and his wife lived in one half of the semi-detached house across the road from Doveby House. The man was tall, with dark hair that was clearly dyed and dark eyes. He was a retired gardener who happily looked after the grounds at Doveby House in exchange for a small fee and a great deal of tea and biscuits.
“Of course you can ask,” Janet said. “But I won’t promise we’ll say yes.”
Stuart nodded. “It may not be an issue anyway,” he said. “Some friends of mine and I are planning a charity event. We’ve actually been planning it for months; it’s meant to be happening this Friday. It was going to be held in Little Burton. Unfortunately, the venue suffered from a broken pipe and the entire ground floor has over an inch of water everywhere.”
“Oh, dear,” Janet said.
“We’re all scrambling around, trying to find a new venue,” Stuart said. “I was wondering about having it at Doveby House.”
“What sort of event is it?” Joan asked.
“Just wine and a charity auction,” Stuart explained. He named a large and nationally known cancer charity. “We’re raising money for them,” he explained. “We just need a big room that will hold a hundred or so people.”
Janet and Joan exchanged glances. “I’m not sure our sitting room would hold that many,” she said.
“No?” Stuart said, sounding disappointed. “I couldn’t recall, really. I haven’t been inside the house for years.”
Janet shook her head. “You know you’re welcome any time,” she said. “Come in now and have a look. See what you think. I’m afraid Joan is right, though, it isn’t a terribly large space.”
Stuart followed the sisters through the house. The sitting room was at the front. It was a large for sitting room, but perhaps not large enough for a hundred guests.
“I’m afraid you’re right,” he said sadly. “It isn’t as large as I remembered it. We’ll have to look elsewhere. Winifred was sure it would work. I wonder if he’s actually ever been here.”
“Winifred?” Janet asked. “Is that Winifred Godfrey?”
“Yes, do you know him?” Stuart asked.
“No, but I’m trying to meet him,” Janet replied. “I understand he’s an expert in local history. I want to find out more about the history of Doveby House.”
“He is, or at least he thinks he is,” Stuart replied. “Right now he’s awfully busy with this event. I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk to you once it’s over, though.”
“I wish we could have helped,” Joan said. “We’d like to do something to give back to the community.”
“You can buy tickets for the evening, once we find a venue,” Stuart suggested.
“Of course,” Joan said.
“And, actually, would it be a terrible imposition if we used your sitting room for a planning meeting?” he asked. “I offered to have the meeting at my house, but I’m afraid we’ll be a bit cramped there.”
“You’re more than welcome,” Joan said. “When is the meeting?”
“Tomorrow,” Stuart said. “At ten.”
“I’ll bake some biscuits especially for you,” Joan said.
“That would be wonderful,” Stuart beamed.
Joan loved baking, especially for other people. Janet often thought that it wasn’t quite fair that Joan was slender even though she baked sweets and treats all the time. Janet tended to be much curvier, and all she did was eat whatever Joan prepared.
“How many people should we expect?” Janet asked.
“Oh, there’s, um, six of us, I think,” Stuart told her. “Fred, Alvin, Winifred and I are all from the Doveby Dale and Little Burton area. Norman and Julian are from London. They’re both retired fundraising consultants who are helping us out.”
“Why haven’t we heard anything about this before now?” Joan asked. “If the event is on Friday, shouldn’t we have seen some advertising before now?”
“It was advertised some in Little Burton,” Stuart said. “Simon Hampton was going to help us with that by putting up signs in his shop, but you know what happened there.”
Janet nodded. A fire had recently destroyed the local grocery shop that Simon owned. It was still unclear as to whether it was going to be rebuilt or not.
“There was a problem with the printers, as well,” Stuart said. “We had flyers made up, but they took longer than they were meant to. Of course, that doesn’t much matter, as they all have the wrong venue on them now anyway. And we’re still waiting for the tickets. It’s hard to sell tickets to people when you don’t actually have any tickets to give them.”
“How much are tickets going to be?” Joan asked.
“A hundred pounds a person,” Stuart said.
Janet covered her gasp with a cough. Joan simply raised an eyebrow. “That seems a lot,” she said.
“That’s what I said,” Stuart told her. “Mary had a fit until I told her that we would get complimentary tickets because I’m on the committee. It is for charity, though, that’s the important thing.”
Joan nodded. “Yes, well, when you have a new venue sorted and you actually have tickets, let us know. Janet and I will plan on attending.”
“That’s very good of you,” Stuart said. “We should have both of those things by tomorrow, I hope. I’m going to ring Winifred when I get home and tell him that Doveby House is out. I know Alvin had some other ideas, so, fingers crossed, we should have some answers by tomorrow.”
Stuart left through the conservatory, back out into the garden. As Janet locked the French doors behind him, she shook her head. “A hundred pounds a person? That’s an awful lot of money if all you get for it is wine.”
“It does seem dear, but perhaps that’s the going rate for such things. It isn’t the sort of event that we usually attend, after all.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t,” Janet said. “What do you suppose people wear to such things?”
Joan frowned. “I’ve no idea,” she said. “We shall have to ask Stuart tomorrow.”
“Maybe I’ll ring Mary and ask her,” Janet said. “She’ll have a better idea than Stuart, I should imagine.”
“I wonder if anyone else we know is going. Perhaps I should invite Michael to join us.”
Michael Donaldson lived in the other half of the property across the road. He was a widower and a retired chemist. Joan had never had a boyfriend when she’d been younger, although Janet had had a few. Both women had been surprised when Michael had first asked Joan for dinner, but now it seemed quite natural for Joan to include the man in their plans.
“Do,” Janet said. “It will be good to have at least one other person to talk with.”
Joan nodded. “Maybe we’ll know some of the other men on the planning committee when they come tomorrow,” she said.
“None of the names sounded familiar,” Janet replied. “I’m sure I don’t know anyone from Little Burton. The two men from London will be strangers as well.”
“Maybe the Doveby Dale Ladies’ Club should attend the event,” Joan suggested.
Janet made a face. She’d joined the club because both she and Joan felt that they should make an effort to be involved in their community. While it had been advertised as an active community improvement group that met regularly, it was actually a small group of women who had dinner together about once a month.
There had been some excitement a few months back when one member suggested including men in the membership, but the man in question was currently in London for an extended period and the matter hadn’t been raised again. While Janet liked some of the members, others were less easy to appreciate, and she wasn’t eager to spend an evening sipping wine with them. At least with dinner, she got a good meal out of the evening.
“Maybe I’ll see if Edna and Martha are interested,” Janet said after a moment’s thought. “Perhaps they’ll want to inclu
de the others, as well.”
Chapter 2
With dozens of biscuits to bake, Joan really needed a trip to the supermarket. The sisters loaded bedding and towels into the washing machine and then headed out. As the local shop was still shut, it was a bit of a drive to the larger one that offered both better prices and a better selection. Janet wondered if Simon would have trouble attracting customers if he did reopen, now that everyone was getting used to the minor inconvenience of driving a bit further.
After the shopping trip, Joan made them both lunch, and then she settled in to start baking. Janet was happy to finish cleaning the guest rooms. She knew she could pop down to the kitchen for a fresh and still warm biscuit whenever she wanted one. By the time Joan was ready to make them some dinner, Janet was too full of biscuits to want anything, though.
“Maybe just something light,” she finally conceded before Joan could shout at her for spoiling her appetite.
Joan frowned but didn’t complain. Janet noticed that her sister didn’t eat much dinner either. Perhaps Joan had been sampling her own biscuits while she’d worked.
They couldn’t find anything interesting to watch on the telly, so the sisters went to their own rooms to read before bed. Janet glanced at the book that had been sitting on her nightstand for days. Perhaps Alberta’s “Poems for my Love” improved as it went along, she thought. She’d only managed four pages thus far, in spite of picking the book up nearly every day. Now she settled in and forced herself to read the next dozen poems.
“I think dear Alberta was a little bit crazy,” she told Aggie as she put the book back on her nightstand. “The first few poems were just not very good. They get increasingly odd as the book goes on.”
“Merowwww?” Aggie replied.
“Really? You want to hear one?” Janet shook her head. “You asked for it.”
She opened the book to the last poem she’d read and cleared her throat. “It’s called ‘To My Love,’ which is what they’ve nearly all been called,” she told Aggie. “Dewdrops, Raindrops, Peppermint drops, Candles, Lamps and Moons, Our love is the light that lights the drops that drop from forever to here.”
The Jackson Case Page 1