Why on earth did that bit of trivia pop into my mind? I wondered. I noticed Dickens was now sniffing around the stone. “What is it, Dickens?”
“It’s blood, Leta. Look here on the stone.”
I pressed my knuckles against my mouth as I muttered, “Oh my God, oh my God,” over and over. I looked at the body again and saw that Alice had something small and blue clutched in her hand.
To keep Dickens from disturbing the scene, I walked him to my car and then on an impulse continued on to the other car. “Oh, this is Alice’s car, Dickens. I can see her box of cleaning supplies on the back seat and there’s a tray of leftovers in plastic wrap on the front seat. She must have come here straight from the party. But why?”
I was standing between the two cars when Gemma arrived, followed by a young male constable in a separate car. Dressed in her black suit with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, Gemma looked completely pulled together despite having been on her way out to run. Just like on TV, I thought. No matter what the detective is doing when the call comes in, they look professional when they arrive at the scene.
Gemma guided me away from the cars, sat me down on the front steps of the pavilion, and gave me a sip from a bottle of water. “Leta, stay here and keep Dickens with you while we check this out. Constable James will be back with you shortly.”
The constable and Gemma moved to the back of the pavilion. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but Dickens could, and he repeated it for me seemingly verbatim. This was one time I was thankful for his keen sense of hearing.
He started with Gemma’s words. “No pulse. Definitely dead and already cold to the touch. I guess she could have stumbled out here in the dark. And it must have been dark given there’s a flashlight next to her. I’m afraid we’re going to need the SOCOs to confirm it was accidental. I wonder what she was doing out here in the dark. Hustle back to the car and contact the SOCOs and let’s hope they can get here quickly from Quedgeley.”
After Constable James checked on me and made the call, he returned to Gemma. “What do we do now?” I was able to hear him ask.
Dickens picked up with Gemma’s response. “Well, this is not something we often get called out on from Stow-on-the-Wold. Our crimes run more to the snatch and grab variety, maybe a break-in, or a car theft. I think this is likely your first dead body, so tell me what you see.”
The constable’s voice carried better than Gemma’s and I could hear him answer, “You're half right, Gemma. I was once first on the scene of an auto accident where two people died, but I’ve never been to this kind of crime scene.
“I see a middle-aged woman on the ground. She’s dressed in a black dress, a bit like a uniform. Her hands are flung out as though she may have been trying to brace herself. There’s a flashlight near one hand, which makes me think she came here last night, and her other hand is closed in a fist. Is there something in that hand?”
Good grief, I thought as I sat sniffling. I’m witnessing an investigation or, more accurately, I’m overhearing one.
With Dickens’s help, I got the next bit from Gemma. “It looks as though she’s clutching something, maybe a purse strap, but I can’t tell from here. Could be she was holding on to her purse as someone tried to grab it. But why would a purse-snatcher be out here? For that matter, what was she doing out here? What else do you see?”
Constable James paused. “Well, I don’t see any obvious signs of an assault, no blood on the body that we can see. Could be there’s a wound or something more on the front side. But look, just by the stone. Is that a tube of lipstick? Oh, and I see a few coins on the ground. And it’s hard to tell from here, but it looks as though there’s a stain on the top of the stone. You know, the part that looks like a mushroom top?”
As Dickens continued sharing Gemma’s words, I realized she and I were in sync about what the scene revealed. “I think you’re right on both counts. I can’t quite suss out what happened here. I suppose she could have tripped and fallen and hit her head. Or perhaps she had some sort of seizure that made her fall. And, since I saw her last night working at my mum and dad’s, I’m pretty sure she came here after she left the inn. But why?
“When I left Thames Valley, I’d hoped never to deal with a suspicious death again, but that’s what we’ve got here. Or at least we’ve got a puzzle I can’t readily solve. Let’s talk to Leta—um, I mean the witness—while we wait for the SOCOs.”
They returned to me and Dickens. I felt calmer and sat with my hand on Dickens’s head as he sat by my feet. Gemma asked Constable James to take me back through the events of the morning.
“We were out for a walk. I’d been by here any number of times in my car and thought it would be interesting to see the pavilion and the sheep up close after one of the guests at your mum’s party mentioned it. I noticed the car when we drove up and it passed through my mind that it looked like Alice’s, but really, I’m not all that good about cars, so the thought didn’t stick.”
“Right, ma’am, then what?” prompted Constable James.
“Well, almost right away, Dickens barked his worried bark, his alert or danger bark, and ran behind the pavilion where I couldn’t see him. He kept barking, so I ran too.” I took a deep breath as I recalled the images from earlier. “It was almost like I couldn’t see it all at once. I saw a hand, and I saw that familiar red hair. Oh my gosh, it was the hair. And then the black dress. I somehow knew it had to be Alice even if I couldn’t see her face. She only recently got that dress for when she serves at parties, and she’s so proud of it. It is Alice, isn’t it?”
Gemma answered, “Yes, Leta, I’m afraid it is. Did you see anyone else around?”
“No, only the sheep off in the field.”
“Did you touch anything?” asked the Constable.
“I did . . . I did take her hand and touch her wrist to feel for a pulse, but I couldn’t feel one, so I backed away. But Dickens didn’t want to leave. He kept sniffing that big stone support beneath the building. I know I should have dialed 999, but I couldn’t think of calling anyone but you, Gemma.”
“That’s understandable,” Gemma replied. Just then, two SOCOs hustled up and she directed them to the back of the pavilion. Dickens stood up as though to follow them, but I grabbed his collar.
“Ma’am,” asked the constable, “did you see anything else at all, whether you think it would be helpful or not?”
“No,” I replied. “The walking paths are usually pretty deserted this early in the morning, so it was just me . . . and Dickens, of course. While we were waiting, I looked in the car and could tell it’s definitely Alice’s.” I began to tear up. “Will I have to go to the station, or can I go home now?”
“Can you hold on just a bit longer, Leta?” asked Gemma as the SOCOs came to the front steps.
“We’ve strung the yellow crime scene tape around back and we’ll check the car next,” said the one who seemed to be in charge. The group moved a little away from me, but their voices carried in the crisp morning air.
“Ma’am, you were right to call us. There’s a wound on the victim’s forehead, and it appears she may have struck her head on one of the stones. The simple explanation would be she fell on her own, though I guess you two think it’s suspicious she was out here at night. We won’t know until we get the lab results, but it’s likely her blood on the stone.”
“Can you tell whether the lipstick and coins have been here a while or are new? Could someone have been running off with her purse and the coins fell out?” Constable James asked.
“It’s hard not to speculate, but let’s see what we can learn from her car,” said Gemma. “And we need to call in the license and get an address for our victim so we can go there before the day’s out.”
“We’ll give the car a quick going-over for you and then call to have it towed to Quedgeley. We can be more thorough there if need be,” was the reply.
“You can go on now, Leta,” said Gemma. “Is there anyone we can call to si
t with you so you don’t have to be alone with this? Maybe Mum or Wendy?”
I shook my head. “No, I just want to hold Dickens and forget what I saw. Come on, boy, let’s go home.”
I started toward my cottage and then I realized Gemma was right. I didn’t want to be alone, so I called Wendy. She and I had become fast friends in the few months we’d known each other. “I’ve got to see you. Something awful’s happened.”
When I pulled up to Sunshine Cottage, Wendy was waiting outside. “What on earth?” said Wendy as I stumbled from the car. “Lord, you look upset, and you’re forgetting Dickens.”
I turned back to the car, opened the back door, and fumbled with the seatbelt as Dickens licked my face. “It will be okay, Leta,” he said, trying to get me to calm down.
I sat in the homey kitchen while Wendy made tea, Dickens glued to my side. Belle had decorated the kitchen in cheery reds—chair cushions with a cherry pattern and coordinating red and white checked curtains. A hooked rug was on the floor. “I know you like your coffee in the morning, but a good strong cup of tea is what you need right now,” said Wendy. “Mum’s in her room watching her morning program. She’s not up and dressed yet. Now tell me what’s going on. Is it bad news from home? What is it?”
As Wendy looked on astonished, I poured out my story. Dickens, sensing my agitation, laid his head on my lap.
“Alice? It can’t have been Alice,” said Wendy. “What was she doing out there early in the morning? Did she fall? Did she trip?”
I was sobbing now. “No, she had to have gone there last night. She still had on her black dress, the one she wears when she serves cocktails or dinner at the Inn. She would have been dressed in something else if she’d been out for a walk this morning.”
“Shhh,” said Wendy as she poured us both another cup of tea. “And when have we ever known Alice to take a walk? Drink this while I take care of Mum. She’s going to want to hear this.”
After Wendy helped her mum into the kitchen, she asked me to tell the story again. Every time I repeated it, I found the telling got a bit easier. I almost made it through this time without tears. Belle braced herself on her cane and leaned over to give me a hug.
“My goodness, girl, I can’t believe you had to see that,” said Belle. “What an awful sight it must have been. Did Gemma think Alice had fallen and hit her head? I mean, what else could have happened?”
“Well, Gemma and the others seemed to think she might have tripped, but they weren’t sure. But what was she doing at the cricket pavilion in the first place? Why would she go there?”
“Goodness knows,” said Belle. “Could she have been meeting someone out there? I mean we all know her as Alice, who cleans our houses and bakes amazing sweets, but we don’t really know her. She’s only lived here a few years, so she’s not really one of us.”
Wendy sighed. “You know what that means, right, Leta? You’ll be a newbie forever. You’re not ‘one of us’ unless you were born here or possibly ‘married into’ the area. Peter and I are only accepted because Mum’s lived here all her life.”
I couldn’t quite muster a chuckle. “Guess I’m fortunate to have fallen in with you, then. Between you and Libby, I seem to be getting along fine.”
My thoughts returned to the comments about Alice. “Even if Alice isn’t one of us, as you say, we must know something about her. Belle, you may know her the best because she not only cleaned and cooked for you, but Wendy says she also took you to the grocery store and even the library in Moreton-on-Marsh before Wendy came home from the States.”
“She was always polite and pleasant and good-natured with me,” said Belle, “but when I think about it, she wasn’t one for sharing much about her personal life. I did sometimes hear her having some strained conversations on her cellphone. She’d help me into my bedroom so I could read a bit before my afternoon nap and then come sit here in the kitchen and get on the phone. Everyone thinks I can’t hear because I wear hearing aids, but I can hear when I have them in my ears.”
“What do you mean by strained, Mum?” asked Wendy.
“It was a mix of things, luv. I once heard her say, ‘Everyone has secrets.’ And another time, she said ‘This is the last time I’m going to ask’ in kind of an angry way. It was like hearing one of those shows on the telly. I guess she could have been talking about something completely innocent, but some of the things she said made me wonder. And, oh, one time she even said, ‘You know where to put it, the usual place, and it better be there.’ Don’t you think those are strange comments?”
Wendy and I looked at each other. “Good grief, Wendy,” I said, “What could she have been talking about . . . and who could she have been talking to?”
Belle didn’t hesitate. “I’m sick over what happened to Alice, but if she was out at the cricket pavilion at night, she had to be up to something, right? Maybe that something got her killed. Oh my, I can’t believe I just said that word—killed. But that’s what happened, isn’t it? The way you described it, Leta, it didn’t sound like an accident . . .”
“Up to something! That’s awfully harsh, isn’t it?” I said.
“Now, Mum, take a breath and slow down,” cautioned Wendy. “We can’t have you getting overexcited. And I think we’re jumping to conclusions without having all the facts.”
“But Belle, you could be on to something. Did Alice ever say anything like that directly to you?” I asked. “Or was it just one side of a conversation you heard her having with others?”
Belle frowned and thought for a moment. “You know, one afternoon, we were watching telly while she made my tea, and she said something about folks not always being what they seem. I think there was a news report on about some politician getting caught running around on his wife. Yes, that was it, and Alice said, ’There’s a bit of that going ‘round, you know.’ When I questioned her, that’s when she said something like, ‘Belle, everyone has secrets. Some are just better at hiding them than others.’”
I couldn’t help myself. “Oh for goodness’ sake, are we talking about Astonbury? This sounds like a soap opera.”
Wendy looked at me. “Alice cleaned your house too. Have you noticed any changes in her behavior lately?”
“Well, you know I’ve only been here a few months, so I may not be the best person to ask. You’ve been back living with your mum a year. What would you say?”
Wendy leaned forward and said, “Now that I think about it, in just the last few months, I’ve noticed Alice wearing a bit of jewelry when she never did before, and she just got that new black dress and got a new car last month. I mean, it was used, but it was new to her.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, Wendy,” I responded, “but I’ve noticed Alice wearing several new outfits lately, not just the black dress. In fact, I complimented her on them. You know I tend to notice clothes, and I even asked her where she shopped, since I don’t yet know all the places to go. But, does any of that really mean anything?”
“She wears nice perfume,” Dickens mentioned to me.
The perfume comment prompted me to ask, “By the way, Belle, has Alice always worn perfume?”
“Funny you should mention that,” mused Belle. “Not until recently.”
“What? Do you think she has a secret boyfriend?” said Wendy. “Listen to us. What do we think we’re doing?”
“Oh my gosh,” I said, “While we’ve been acting like amateur detectives, I forgot Alice’s cat Tigger has been home by himself all this time. I guess that’s one of the few things I do know about her. When I told her how much I missed Christie, she showed me a photo of Tigger. Someone needs to check on the poor thing, but, but I don’t even know where Alice lives . . . lived . . . in a flat in Bourton-on-the-Water, I think.”
“Good grief, Leta, Christie would be fit to be tied if she missed a meal, much less two,” said Dickens. “Let’s hope Tigger’s okay.”
“Mum, if you think you’ll be all right by yourself, I’ll go with Leta. She doesn’t
need to be on her own after her experience this morning,” said Wendy.
“Wendy, do you even know where the flat is?” asked Belle in exasperation. “I’ve been there a few times with Alice when we were close by shopping. I think you’d best take me with you.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, this is turning in to an expedition,” groaned Wendy. “OK, Mum, let’s get your cane and get a move on.”
When we pulled up to Alice’s home, it was Belle who asked the logical question. “And just how are we going to get in since none of us has a key?”
“I hear plenty of folks around here don’t lock their doors. Let’s hope Alice is one of them,” I said as I let Dickens out the car. “Belle, why don’t you and Dickens wait out here until we’re sure?”
We were in luck. The door was not only unlocked, it was also slightly ajar—and we could hear Tigger mewing loudly. The front door opened to a tiny sitting area to the right and the kitchen off to the left. I stopped in my tracks, and Wendy piled into me. The sitting area was in disarray—not quite a shambles, but close. Books and papers littered the floor, and cushions had been thrown off the couch. In the kitchen, the freezer and fridge doors were standing open. Even the oven door was open. I guess the good news was there was no smashed crockery or knickknacks. It seemed to be controlled chaos.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh” said Wendy and then she called, “Is anyone here?”
We could hear Tigger meowing from the back of the flat but no other sounds, so I carefully stepped through the mess to the bedroom, which looked much like the front area, with the mattress pulled off the bed frame, and the drawers of the dresser and the small desk hanging open, their contents strewn across the room. The cat was backed against the wall beneath the bed and had to be coaxed out.
“Do you need help?” shouted Wendy.
“No, I’ve got him, poor thing. He’s scared to death.” I backtracked to the kitchen and found a water dish and food bowl in one corner and canned food in a cabinet. Taking care of Tigger gave me time to collect my thoughts, but Tigger seemed too traumatized to bother with food or water.
Bells, Tails, & Murder: (A Dickens & Christie Mystery) Page 4