A Death at Dinner: An amateur sleuth murder mystery (A Mary Blake Mystery Book 2)

by AG Barnett

  “The police must have found them then,” Pea said. “You should get on the phone to your police chap and find out.”

  Mary was about to make it clear that Inspector Joe Corrigan was not “her police chap,” but she caught the look on his long, lean face. She recognised it from her childhood as the expression he wore when he was delighting in winding her up.

  “I wouldn’t count on the police to come up with useful,” she snapped, directing her annoyance away from her brother, “they didn’t even think Thomas had been murdered until someone else had died, despite me telling them.”

  “You’re quite right,” a voice came from behind them. Mary felt Pea turn beside her, but she was frozen to the spot. With a sinking feeling, she knew the voice was Corrigan’s.

  “We should have listened to you from the start,” he continued.

  She forced herself to turn, trying to arrange her features into something resembling calm indifference.

  “Did you find the flowers?”

  “The flowers?” Corrigan echoed.

  “Yes, you know, the ones that killed Thomas and were used to attack Spencer?”

  Corrigan folded his arms and sighed. Mary watched as Pea backed away quietly to her left before he turned and headed back towards the High Street.

  “I know what flowers you’re talking about,” Corrigan replied softly. “And no, we haven’t found them. I was just wondering why you are here and asking about them?”

  “Well if you must know, I was trying to work out how Ruth Faulkner could have attacked Spencer, had time to get rid of the flowers, and then got back to start screaming as though she had just found him in the kitchen.”

  “And why would Miss Faulkner want to harm either Thomas Mosley or Spencer Harley?”

  “I think I can answer that,” Dot said as she moved alongside Mary with Pea in tow.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “OK, Miss Tanner,” Corrigan said, in a tone that suggested he was possibly getting tired of dealing with the three of them. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Ruth Faulkner has negotiated a two-book deal with an advance of one hundred thousand pounds.”

  “Book deal? What book deal?” Corrigan’s soft, round eyes suddenly sharpened.

  “Something else you didn’t know about?” Mary said quietly.

  “It’s a cookbook,” Dot continued, shooting her a look, “Ruth was writing it using Thomas’s recipes and was going to use Anna’s name on it to make it sell.”

  Corrigan opened his mouth to say something and then seemed to think better of it. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mary and lingered on her long enough to cause a prickle of heat to rise up the back of her neck. Then he suddenly turned away and strode back towards the restaurant door.

  “I don’t want any of you leaving town,” he called over his shoulder. “I suggest you all just try to enjoy your stay rather than being amateur sleuths.”

  Mary tried not to show how much this had annoyed her, but the slight smirk in Dot’s expression as she turned to her let her know that she was blushing.

  “So Ruth has a pretty lucrative book deal?” Mary said, deciding to change the subject. “That definitely gives her a motive.”

  Dot sighed and looked at her watch.

  “Listen, Mary, I know that we’ve all been caught up in this, and no wonder, but I think it’s time we all took a little break and forget about all this murder.”

  “We can’t forget all about it!” Mary cried, her hands in the air. “Someone has died and someone else still might!”

  “I’m not saying we forget about the whole thing, I’m just saying that I think we all need a break to calm down and relax a little. We’re not going to get anywhere all wound up like this.”

  “She’s right, Mary,” Pea said, leaning in and putting one long arm around her. “I’m pulling big brother rank—we’re all going to find a pub and sit in it until we find it hard to get out of our chairs.”

  Mary couldn’t help but smile. She looked between the two of them. Her oldest friend. The woman who now seemed to have always been there for her, a port in the storm of celebrity that had been her life for so long, but now would never be again. And Pea, her older brother, who was always trying to set her on the right path, always grounding her when she needed it. Which, she had to admit, was a lot.

  “OK,” she said, laughing, “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “You can’t be serious?” Dot said in what Mary, even in her own fuzzy state, noticed was a slightly slurred tone.

  “Why not?” Pea replied. “I know this has all been a bit stressful, what with people being poisoned left right and centre, but let’s be honest here. We’ve all been feeling more alive than we have done in years.”

  Mary found it hard to disagree with. After a solid pub meal of steak and ale pie, mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables, the conversation had wandered back to the topic they all knew they had been avoiding for the past few days... What were they going to do with their lives next?

  Mary felt as though she had been wrestling with this question for a long time, though in reality, it had only been a few months. She was ashamed to admit that when she had first lost her role as Susan Law, she had never considered that Dot’s fate was tied up with hers. That the end of Mary’s career meant, at the very least, uncertainty for Dot’s. Not to mention that Pea had apparently been unhappy looking after the family estate for years, and she hadn’t even noticed.

  Pea had now suggested something that she was almost afraid to consider. The idea was so ridiculous, so downright silly that it didn’t even warrant discussion, and yet…

  The thought of it had fired something deep within her. An excitement, thrill and terror that she hadn’t experienced for years, if ever. She knew it wasn’t just her. The animation in Pea’s face, the sparkle in his eyes, and as for Dot… She was sitting in silence, arms folded, with a look of deep thought etched across her square face. Mary knew that look. It was the look she had when she loved the idea of something, but was mulling it over from all angles to check for flaws.

  “You are saying,” Mary said, sitting up in her seat, “that the three of us should set up a private detective agency?”

  “Yes!” Pea cried, thumping the table to accentuate his enthusiasm and sloshing some of his beer as he did so. “I mean, we’ve got all this money now, what better way to use it than to set up a family business!”

  “It’s not quite your normal family business though, is it?” Mary said before finishing her gin and tonic. She tried briefly to remember how many she’d had but gave up when she decided however many it was, it wasn’t enough.

  “We’d have no trouble getting work,” Pea continued, ignoring her. “People would be queuing up to hire Susan Law.”

  “I’m not Susan Law!” Mary protested.

  “Well, no, of course not, but it would still work like that. Dot can sort all the admin side of things, she’s such a whizz at all that, and I can manage the finances and all that business.”

  “What do you think, Dot?” Mary said, turning to her.

  Dot looked up, unfolded her arms and took a long sip of her gin and tonic. “I think it would be fun.”

  Mary stared at her in amazement. Dot Tanner was many things. Practical, sensible, fiercely loyal, an absolute master of organisation, but frivolous and spontaneous… she was not. The idea that she would be willing to start a private detective agency because it would be fun seemed so alien that for a moment Mary was sure she had misheard.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said,” Dot repeated, more forcefully this time, “that I think it would be fun. The three of us aren’t getting any younger and sometimes it’s OK to do something silly.”

  Mary stared at her as though she had just grown an extra head. This wasn’t the Dot Tanner she knew. This was something unnerving. A Dot Tanner who was OK with being silly. She looked to Pea for some kind of sympathy, but saw only that he was staring at her friend with a mist
y-eyed smile.

  “Oh!” Mary said in shock, her head switching back and forth between the two of them. “How did I not see this before?!”

  “See what?” Dot snapped, shooting her a look that seemed to bore into her brain and say with no uncertain circumstances that she should shut up.

  “Oh,” Mary said, hesitating under the ferocity of the gaze, “I was just going to say that, of course, setting up a private detective agency is the right move.” She smiled at Dot. “I just can't believe I didn’t notice it before.”

  Dot gave her a small nod back, a smile forming on her lips. “Then that’s settled.”

  “Let’s get another round in to celebrate!” Pea laughed as he rose from the table and headed off to the bar.

  “You are a sly one, Dot Tanner,” Mary said once he was out of earshot.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Mary,” Dot said, pulling herself up straight in her chair. “We’re not giggling schoolgirls. Pea and I just enjoy each other’s company, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make too big a deal out of it until we’ve had a chance to see what it could be.”

  “Of course.” Mary nodded with a serious expression before quietly singing under her breath, “Dot and Pea, sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G!”

  Dot hit her on the arm, but Mary saw a coy smile on her lips as she did so.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Mary woke to the sound of her phone buzzing on the small bedside table. She groaned and rolled towards it, reaching out blindly and knocking it to the floor where it landed with a thump. She swore and tentatively opened her eyes, thanking the heavens that she’d had the foresight to close the curtains before she had crawled into bed. Even so, she winced at the thin bar of light that edged the thick curtain and filled the room with a dull glow.

  She leaned over the bed and felt around on the thin carpet until she found her phone before lifting it in front of her. Her bleary eyes suddenly focused as she saw Corrigan’s name on the screen. She tapped open the message and read.

  If you can read this through the strength of the hangover you're almost certainly going to have this morning, you might want to know that we've arrested both Ruth Faulkner and Roderick Sutton for the murder of Thomas Mosley and the attempted murder of Spencer Harley. I guess you really can go home now.

  Mary blinked at the message, re-reading it twice before she pulled herself upright with only a minor groan. So it was over, they'd made their arrests. The only thing that surprised her was that they had arrested both Ruth and Roderick. Roderick had a good reason for the hotel to go under, and getting rid of Thomas Mosley would have been a more subtle way than bumping off his business partner, but somehow Spencer had been attacked as well. Then there was Ruth—she had had the opportunity, however small, to attack Spencer, but she would only have done that to cover up the murder of Thomas. So they must have been in it together somehow. There would be no other reason for both of them to be arrested.

  There was no point sitting here wondering—she had to know. She dialled Corrigan and listened to it ring out before going to his answer machine. She hung up and threw her phone onto the bed as she marched towards the bathroom. Hangover or not, Corrigan wasn't dismissing her that easily.

  It was only a further forty-five minutes, somewhat of a record for Mary after a heavy night, before she was moving down the corridor towards Dot’s room. She rapped on the door, leaning on the wall for support as she did so due to a sudden, gin-induced head rush. After a few moments, she heard Dot’s muffled voice through the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Who do you think it is?” Mary snapped irritably. “Let me in.”

  “Um, just a minute!”

  Mary sighed and leaned her head back on the wall, closing her eyes. She opened them again quickly. Was it her imagination? Or was there a muffled conversation happening behind that door? She turned quickly and pressed her ear to the dark wood. Although muffled, she could distinctly hear two voices in hurried conversation through the other side of the wood. One of them was male. She rapped again on the door.

  “Come on Dot, hurry up!” she cried, a smile spreading across her face. Dot Tanner was in there with a man! Oh, she was going to make her squirm about this one! After all the years of disapproval for Mary’s own habits with the opposite sex, this was payback time.

  “I’m coming!” Dot shouted back irritably. A few moments later, the door opened.

  “Good morning,” Mary said, arms folded and a wide smile on her lips. “And how are we today, Miss Tanner?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Dot answered gruffly, pulling her light blue cardigan together at the front. Mary was enjoying the sight of her old friend immensely. Dot, normally so neatly and impeccably turned out, looked frazzled. Her hair was tousled rather than the usual neat bob. Her clothes were slightly askew, as though she’d thrown them on in a hurry, and most telling of all, her face was a bright crimson.

  “Morning, Mary,” a male voice called from the back of the room. Dot moved aside and Mary saw Pea sat on a chair by the dressing table, attempting to look nonchalant.

  “Morning, Pea,” Mary said, eyebrows raised. “Sleep well, did you?”

  “Not bad, thank you,” he answered before clearing his throat. “Anyway, I had just called on Dot here and we were about to come and knock for you.”

  “Right,” Mary said slowly, looking between the two of them. She deliberately let the silence stretch out, enjoying the two of them shifting uncomfortably under her gaze until she decided to put them out of their misery. After all, underneath her amused and questioning expression, she was delighted. Who wouldn’t be? Her best friend and her brother getting together would be just what both of them needed.

  “Well,” she said, clapping her hands together and breaking the spell of awkwardness, “things have progressed overnight and they’ve formally arrested both Ruth Faulkner and Roderick Sutton.”

  “Both of them?” Dot said in surprise.

  “Yep, according to Corrigan.”

  “Oh! You’ve spoken to him then?” Pea said, rising from the chair and moving across to where the women still stood in the doorway.

  “No, he left a message.”

  “And he… didn’t say anything else?” Pea continued, glancing at Dot in a manner that worried Mary in some indefinite way.

  “No,” she said slowly. “Why?”

  Pea and Dot looked at each other with expressions that said “oh dear” and sent her stomach into turmoil.

  “What is it?!” she insisted.

  “Last night,” Dot began gently, “you don’t remember when we got back?”

  Mary frowned, casting her mind back to the walk through the chilled and rain-soaked streets to the hotel.

  “Yes, why?”

  “When we got back to the hotel?” Dot pressed.

  Again Mary searched through the fog of her memory until suddenly she remembered Corrigan, there in the hotel lobby as they entered.

  “I spoke to Corrigan?” she said weakly.

  “Not spoke so much,” Pea grinned, “more yelled at, swore at, threatened, that kind of thing.”

  “Oh, bloody hell!” Mary cried, sinking her face into her hands. “Let’s go and find some coffee, you can tell me how bad it was on the way.”

  “OK,” laughed Pea, “but I warn you, it was bad!”

  Mary sighed and trudged back towards her room to grab her coat, wishing that gin and tonic had never been invented.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The three of them were back in the now-familiar Tumbledown Café, sipping coffee in silence as Mary felt the eyes of the others boring into her. She continued staring at the coffee in front of her, trying to hold back the panicked waves of shame she was experiencing. It was a feeling that was unfamiliar to her; she had always prided herself on being somewhat shameless. There had been all manner of drunken debauchery over the years, some of which had even turned up in the British gutter press in the form of lewd headlines and unflattering pictures
. None of it had bothered her. It was all destined to be tomorrow's fish and chip wrappings. This, though... She exhaled slowly.

  “I called him an arrogant pillock?” she said quietly.

  “Amongst other things,” Pea replied with a chuckle. “I have to say, he took it rather well in the circumstances. He just told you to go and sleep it off.”

  Mary frowned and put her head in her hands. Last night she had given Inspector Joe Corrigan both barrels. Calling his handling of the case incompetent, questioning his ability as a policeman and also, apparently, insulting him.

  “Oh, don't be such a drama queen,” Dot said in her usual no-nonsense tone. “Inspector Corrigan is a big boy and I'm sure he's been called much worse in his time on the force.”

  Mary shot her an angry look before pulling her phone out.

  “Well, I'm just going to call him and apologise and get it over with. That way I can find out what's going on with the case at the same time.” She rose from her seat and headed towards the door. As her hand reached the cold metal door handle she paused, a small picture in a tatty frame to the right of the door catching her eye. In it was a young girl holding hands with a man who proudly held up two dead rabbits. Her eyes, though, were fixed on the girl. There was something vaguely familiar about her. She shook the image from her mind and headed out onto the street, taking a sharp breath as the cold air hit her.

  Corrigan answered on the second ring this time.

  “And how are you feeling this morning?” he asked immediately.

  “I'm fine, thank you,” Mary answered, annoyed at his slightly mocking tone. “And how are you?”

  “Oh, I'm fine. Just here, messing up the murder investigation, being crap at my job and just generally being a pillock.”

  Mary felt her cheeks flush and was glad she had stepped outside rather than let Pea and Dot witness this.

  “Look,” she said quickly, trying to deal with it like ripping a plaster off, “I'd had too much to drink and maybe got a bit carried away, so I'm sorry. Now can you tell me why you've arrested two people overnight?”