Parcels of Doom (Chapel End Mysteries, #1)

by Lown, Anne

  A tear ran down Carmie’s cheek, her head bowed. The poor woman was trembling.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Jenny searched her face, sudden fear prickling her skin.

  Carmie reached beneath the counter and brought up a parcel. “It came today. It was waiting for me when I got here.”

  “What do you mean ‘it came today’? I didn’t bring it. Was it a courier?”

  “No,” she said, “it was leaning against the grill along with a couple of bags of donations. I just picked them up and brought them in like I always do.”

  Her hands continued to tremble when she placed the parcel on the counter. It was wrapped in brown paper and bound with string. Carmie had difficulty with the knot, the string slipping from her grasp.

  “You’ve already opened it?”

  She nodded and stepped back from the counter, allowing Jenny to take over.

  Slowly, Jenny used her fingernails to grip and pull at the string. It had been retied tight. No doubt Carmie didn’t want whatever it was falling out on her. Anticipation had Jenny’s hands trembling, too. She bit her already bloodied lip, tugging at the scab and releasing another flow. She licked it away with her tongue, wincing at the soreness of the broken skin.

  With Jenny taking great care, the knots released, and the paper fell open. At first, she didn’t register what she saw. She shook her head and blinked several times. Nothing in front of her changed. No wonder Carmie was an emotional wreck when Jenny had entered the shop.

  Jenny dropped her hands to her sides. She glanced up at her friend. “I don’t understand.”

  Tears ran down Carmie’s cheeks. She collapsed onto the chair behind her and shielded her face with her hands. Her sobs escaped through her fingers, her chest heaving with each one.

  Jenny stared in disbelief. It was a voodoo doll. It appeared to be a lot like the first one, except it didn’t have a name pinned to its chest. There was also another difference—a noose had been placed around its neck. It took some time before her mind kicked back in. She’d zoned out for a couple of minutes just trying to comprehend what she was staring at, her mouth moving, but not saying a word. Another voodoo doll.

  Shaking herself, she returned her attention to Carmie. “Who the hell left it?”

  “I...I don’t know.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  The tears flowed a little longer before she could compose herself. Jenny carefully picked the doll up and examined it. Whoever had made it was good with crafting. She wondered if they’d ever made any before the one with Paul’s name on and concluded they must’ve done. Jenny peered closer. There was a smudge of dirt on both sides of the doll’s torso. She didn’t know if that was a message, too, or if it’d happened by accident.

  Carmie wiped the tears from her cheeks and pulled a tissue from her pocket to blow her nose.

  A thought occurred to Jenny. “What does Emma say about the doll? Did she see it, too?”

  They both looked over to the office at the back of the shop. Jenny half expected the woman to burst through the door, still irate from the night before.

  “She’s not in,” Carmie said. “I don’t know where she is, but she hasn’t rung either.”

  “So who opened the shop if she’s not here?”

  Jenny was perplexed. The other day Carmie had had to go to Emma’s house to collect the keys and let herself in. If Carmie hadn’t seen or heard from Emma, how had she managed it?

  Her friend bowed her head and wouldn’t meet her gaze. She spoke in barely a whisper, “I had them copied.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear that?”

  “I had them copied.”

  Jenny snorted. It wasn’t the answer she’d expected. “I’m sorry, that’s so funny. Why’re you embarrassed?”

  “She doesn’t know. I didn’t want to walk over to her house every time, so if she doesn’t turn up I just let myself in.”

  “Well, let’s phone her and see if she’s all right.”

  Carmie walked to the shop door and turned the lock. She put the closed sign facing outwards before leading Jenny back through to the office to use the phone. She dialled Emma’s number and waited. The ringing seemed to go on forever, but no one answered. Carmie tried a few times and kept getting the same result. “She’s not there.”

  “Maybe she’s feeling ashamed after last night.”

  Jenny enlightened her friend with the details of the drama in the pub. It was possible she was hiding away after displaying so much anger and passion for Jason in front of them all. She’d been out of control and on the verge of lunging at him. It must’ve been a low point in her life. Even still, she had a business to run, and a phone call wouldn’t have hurt.

  “We should go to her house, make sure she is okay.”

  Carmie got her coat and locked the shop on the way out of the door. She didn’t pull the grill down; Jenny expected to only be a few minutes and hoped all would be secure in broad daylight. Emma’s house was farther along the route of where Jenny had yet to go. Carmie didn’t seem to mind their slow progress—Jenny still had to deliver the mail as they went along.

  Partway there they came to the works van. Adam leaned against it, smoking his vape and hiding it behind his back after each puff. “Where’ve you been?”

  He didn’t say it in a nasty way, more out of interest. He’d clearly been enjoying his unscheduled break but put the vape away when Carmie approached.

  “My friend says her boss hasn’t turned up for work and she’s really worried. I need to go with her to check if she’s all right.” Jenny gave him her best pleading face. She had to wait a few seconds while he thought about it before he agreed, but only if he went with them.

  All three walked along the path to where Emma lived. Her house was a semi-detached on a quiet road leading off from Three Stiles. The end of the road didn’t go anywhere, so the houses curved around it and carried on down the other side. The gate was open, and there wasn’t car in the drive.

  “Maybe she’s gone out,” Adam said. He trod onto the grass in front of a large window and peered in. Leaning his forehead on his hands, he pressed against the pane to see beyond the glare from the lunchtime sun reflecting off the glass. “There’s a coat on the chair and shoes near it.”

  Carmie joined him, doing the same. “And her bag, she doesn’t go out without it.”

  Jenny scanned the street. She didn’t always park by her house and wondered if Emma didn’t either. “Is that her car?” She pointed to a vehicle back along the road, partially hidden by a large white van. “I think she’s home. Are any of those keys for the front door?”

  She’d been pressing the bell and using the knocker to gain attention from anyone who might’ve been inside. No one came to the door. Carmie tried each of the Yale keys in the lock. The third one worked, and the door swung open.

  Adam stepped inside first, treading carefully while he listened for movement. He shook his head and called out, “Hello? Anyone at home?” There wasn’t an answer, so he ventured farther in.

  Jenny followed behind. She spotted two abandoned wine bottles on the worktop in the kitchen and an empty glass. Emma must’ve been drinking alone to get in the state she had. No one dared touch anything. They kept their hands in their pockets as they went from room to room, not finding anything else of interest.

  “Maybe we should check upstairs, in case she’s ill in bed.”

  Adam nodded at Jenny’s suggestion and led the way. He carried on calling out, but nothing was heard in return.

  At the top of the stairs, a bathroom and bedroom door were open, both rooms strewn with cast-off clothing. Jenny recognised the clothes as the ones Emma had worn at the pub. She’d clearly made it home, Ben must’ve made sure of that. It wasn’t until they checked the last room that Jenny regretted letting themselves in. Adam pushed open the door to the second bedroom. All three froze when they gazed upon the scene. The loft hatch was open, and a thick rope that must’ve dangled down out of
it now lay on the floor.

  “Oh no.” Jenny felt faint, her knees buckling under her.

  It looked like one end had been tied to a rafter in the loft but had come away. The other end was attached to something entirely different. Jenny covered her face with her hands. Slowly, she parted her fingers and dared to peek through them. The scene in front of her was still the same.

  Emma lay on the floor with the rope around her neck and her eyes wide open.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The police didn’t take long to arrive. Cars from Bishop sped through the lanes, along with an ambulance and DS George in his police-issue vehicle. The three of them stood outside on the path, being administered to for shock. Carmie was the worst of them all. She couldn’t stop crying and muttering to herself. George told them to wait where they were and he’d get to them in good time.

  “I’d better call work, tell them what’s happened.” Adam had his mobile phone out and had already dialled the number. He stood aside, talking to Anwar, their delivery manager.

  Jenny put her arm around her friend and tried to comfort her. She held her close, more to steady herself than anything. Her vision swam, and she closed her eyes, willing it to stop. She sucked in shallow breaths that did little to fill her lungs; it was getting harder by the moment. She slid to the ground and sat on the path.

  Adam held his phone away from his ear and called for a paramedic, his concern turned to her. “Are you all right?”

  Slowly, she regained control, and her breaths became deeper. She nodded, finding that easier than speaking. The scene ran through her mind. It was out of a horror show, not something she’d ever seen before or wanted to see again.

  Jenny turned to Carmie. The woman sat on the ground beside her. How awful it must be to find your boss like that and not know what was going to happen to your job. Jenny guessed Carmie would have to call the company who ran the charity shop and let them know Emma was dead.

  What if Adam hadn’t been with us?

  It didn’t bear thinking about.

  In between heaving sobs, Carmie tried to say something. It was hard enough understanding her at times with her Filipino accent, but with the crying it was impossible.

  “Say it again,” Jenny said. She listened more carefully, trying to catch her words.

  “The...the...doll. I...I...I thought it was meant for m...me.”

  “Why’d you think that?” She pulled her closer and rocked her gently.

  “No name, and I...I opened it.”

  The gravity of her words hit her like a brick. She was right. Someone had left the doll outside the shop with the other donations but hadn’t put a name on it. They knew the first one was meant for Paul because it had said so. Carmie wouldn’t have a clue who was being threatened. No wonder she was so upset.

  Jenny shuddered at the memory of the noose around the doll’s neck. It was the same as Emma’s. Surely she hadn’t hanged herself over Jason? Had she left the doll herself to let them know what she’d done? Jenny had no idea about the answers. All she knew of Paul’s death was it hadn’t been an accident. The officer had said as much when he’d come to the house. If someone had killed Emma, they’d planned it well.

  Why did Emma die? Even the reason for Paul’s death isn’t clear.

  She’d been so caught up in dealing with Jason and Scott that she’d forgotten to find out the details from DS George of what had actually happened to him. She only had Carmie’s words to go by.

  “The first voodoo doll that arrived, was there anything strange about it?”

  Jenny was thinking hard. If the second doll had a noose around its neck, then she wondered what was particular to the first doll. She had a funny feeling if Carmie knew what the difference was about Paul’s doll then they could guess how he’d died.

  “It had a hole in its back, like a cut.”

  “Where abouts on its back?”

  “The left shoulder blade, just above the heart.”

  Jenny shuddered. It felt like someone had walked over her grave. Right then, she wished Scott was with her. He’d always been good at bravado. It had been enough to get them out of sticky situations in the past when he’d run his mouth while drinking and the person he’d insulted hadn’t taken his words kindly.

  Adam finished his call, but he didn’t look pleased with the conversation. Jenny could guess what had been said.

  “I have to finish the round. Anwar said you can stay with Carmie, but I’ve got to get on. I’ll let the police know my details. See you tomorrow, Jen.”

  He walked over to the policeman who was recording the people entering and leaving the crime scene.

  Jenny turned her attention back to the dolls and decided to call Scott. He’d still be at her place and could get to them in no time. She needed to tell someone what had gone on, and he was the better choice out of him and Jason. She didn’t dare think how upset Emma’s death would make Jason—that could wait for later.

  “Hey, babe.” He sounded his cheerful self, no doubt loving the fact he’d stayed the night and saw it as the first step in them getting back together.

  “Scott, I need you. Can you walk round to Blacksmiths Hill? It’s a road coming off Three Stiles.”

  “Where the hell’s that?”

  Jenny forgot he wasn’t familiar with the village. She was just getting to know it herself and she couldn’t think at that moment how to describe getting there.

  “Not to worry,” he said, “I’ll ask on the way. See you soon, babe.”

  Jenny put her phone away and clung on to her friend. Her teeth chattered even though the temperature hadn’t dipped at all.

  It’s got to be the shock.

  Carmie stopped crying and was now trying to comfort her. It wouldn’t be long before Scott arrived and could help her through this. One thing she wanted to do was ask the police how Paul had died. If it matched the damage to his doll like Emma’s did, she was sure she’d freak out.

  They still hadn’t questioned Ben Vickers about his security pass in her bedroom or spoken to Sarah about what they’d seen the night before. The whole thing was getting complicated, but she wasn’t going to stop now. She had to know the truth. Everything came back to Jason—did he kill Annalise or not? It surprised her that she was beginning to doubt him, but Emma had died during the night, and Jason had been on his own, just the same as when Paul had died.

  But Emma committed suicide, she hanged herself.

  Jenny had no way of knowing what the truth was, but she was determined to find out.

  SCOTT ARRIVED BEFORE DS George questioned the two women. He strolled along the road like he had all day. Jenny would’ve been annoyed, but she hadn’t given him any details about why she needed him. She thought the presence of the emergency vehicles would’ve alerted him to a serious situation, but in his usual way he let it go over his head.

  “So, what’s going on here then?”

  Carmie turned to Jenny with a big grin. “It’s your husband.”

  “No, no,” Jenny said, “we used to date.”

  Scott scowled, clearly not liking her comment. “We were engaged, actually, until she broke it off.”

  “Bad move,” Carmie said. “He’s your husband.”

  Jenny groaned. Carmie was trying to matchmake. The woman meant well, but it was the last thing Jenny wanted. She caught a grin spreading across Scott’s face and nudged him with her elbow to put an end to it.

  The three of them chatted until George got to them. He’d finished talking with another detective at the open front door and made a direct course for Carmie. Jenny thought it was because she worked with Emma and she’d be the best one to begin with.

  “Hello, Mrs Hubbard. Can you give me the details of how you came to be at Emma Jones’ house?”

  Carmie held Jenny’s arm a little tighter. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering. “Emma didn’t come to work today, so I opened up the shop. She didn’t ring me or answer her phone. We decided to see if she wa
s all right.”

  “Is that something she’d done before, not kept in contact?”

  “No, she’d always ring before work if she wasn’t coming in.”

  He nodded while she spoke. “Anything else?”

  Carmie gave Jenny a sidelong glance, concern evident in her face. “Emma had an upset last night, that’s why we let ourselves in when she didn’t answer the door.”

  DS George continued to make notes. Jenny knew they’d have to go to the police station to make a statement, but right now George would want the key facts to work with.

  “What made you think you should enter the house?”

  Her friend gave her a look. She was about to spill the beans on Jason and the pub. Panic rippled through Jenny. She wasn’t ready to go into details with the police.

  “We could see her coat and shoes through the window, and her car is parked over there.” She turned and pointed to a barely visible vehicle mostly hidden behind a large works van. “Last night she was rather drunk and making a fool of herself. We thought she might be ill.”

  George turned to Scott, ready to ask him questions without glancing away from his notebook.

  Scott held up his hands. “I wasn’t here, I’ve just turned up. Jen called me to come over.”

  “The other person was Adam from work. He left his details with that officer because he’s got to finish the delivery.” Jenny was pointing to the policeman keeping the log of who entered the crime scene. “He said you’d be in touch with him later.”

  Now George lifted his gaze. “Who was first to discover the body?”

  Scott’s mouth dropped open. “The what?”

  “The body, sir. Miss Jones is dead.”

  His face paled, his eyes blinking rapidly. It appeared he was about to be sick, blowing out his cheeks and pacing around a small portion of the path. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and Jenny felt awful for not telling him before he’d arrived.

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve said why I needed you.”

  “How did she die?” Scott was nothing if not straight to the point.