Still Death (A Lexie Wyatt murder mystery Book 1)

by Shauna Bickley

  There were people in London that Lexie thought of as friends who knew less about her than Evelyn did. She’d talked so much about her worries to this lady.

  ‘You make me feel so much better about things.’ Lexie glanced at her watch. ‘Goodness, I’d better go or we’ll never eat this evening. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?’

  ‘I’m fine, dear. I have my lunch from Meals on Wheels, and I’m okay pottering around in the kitchen now.’

  Lexie had bought a cooked chicken and some vegetables at the supermarket. Quick to prepare and not much for her to ruin.

  As they cleared up the dishes after dinner, she told Nathan about her parents’ upcoming visit.

  ‘It’ll be nice to see them.’ He was always positive. Just like Evelyn. ‘Shall we give them our bedroom while they’re here?

  ‘That’s a good idea, especially as the spare room has most of the junk in it at the moment.’

  ‘It might be good for you to have some company, you know, with Tilly starting school and the twins at pre-school.’

  ‘And me without a job.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  They’d had a few of these not-quite-argument discussions. Lexie pulled back from an all-out row. Her heart wasn’t in it. That was the problem; her heart wasn’t in anything.

  5

  On Monday morning, Tilly was up, showered and dressed for school before Lexie realised. She took the twins into the bathroom and shuddered at the mess, but she didn’t say anything. Tilly was happy to be starting school and Lexie didn’t want to disturb her composure.

  She could look for a job, nothing as intense as her previous role as she’d needed a nanny to cope with all the various demands, but to feel part of the business world again. Surely it would help.

  Helen arrived at school with Rachel and Jake and came over to see Lexie. Rachel gave her mum a hug and kiss goodbye, but Tilly was so excited, Lexie had to tug her back before getting a quick kiss on the cheek. She felt a little hurt that Tilly didn’t mind leaving her.

  At the new pre-school, Ruth let go of her hand immediately and went to play with an enormous Barbie house. Fiona cried, and one of the pre-school ladies said she’d settle once Lexie had gone. They had to prise Fiona’s fingers from Lexie’s hand.

  Lexie was upset by the wet, snotty face but relieved that at least one of her children didn’t want her to leave.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Helen. ‘It’s all normal. They either make you feel as guilty at leaving them, or upset if they don’t miss you. You can’t win either way.’

  She and Helen called in at Java on West in the town centre and enjoyed a peaceful coffee. Back at home, she cleaned and got things ready for her parents and then went to see Evelyn. She’d visited Evelyn most days since they’d first met, usually with the children. Now she’d be able to concentrate on Evelyn and not have to worry whether something was in imminent danger of being broken. She mustn’t talk about herself so much; Evelyn had her own problems. The worry about Patrick and the fire had affected Evelyn’s health. No one had heard from Patrick since the hit and run.

  It was early afternoon, and there wasn’t much blue sky visible through the cloud cover, but it was warm. Lexie sauntered towards the wreck of the garage as Miriam and her daughter came along the path from Evelyn’s house.

  Lexie smiled and greeted her.

  Miriam answered as if the words were being dragged from her, but the young girl returned her smile.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Lexie asked.

  ‘Grace.’

  ‘What a lovely name. My daughter’s called Tilly. You should come and play with her one day. She’d like that.’

  Miriam tugged Grace closer to her, as if to stop the girl being contaminated by something nasty. ‘We need to go.’

  Lexie watched her stride down the short path and around the corner to the lane. Funny woman. Grace must be very lonely.

  Pondering the enigma that was Miriam, Lexie strolled past the burnt out buildings. Evelyn’s house felt as if it had been put down the wrong way. The front door was on the far side of the house and so everyone used the door into the kitchen.

  As usual the house was unlocked, and Lexie went into the kitchen. ‘Hello, its Lexie,’ she called out.

  ‘Come on in, dear. I’m in the living room, not feeling quite so good today.’

  Evelyn rarely mentioned her health, so she must be feeling bad. She looked grey and frail.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ Lexie asked.

  ‘Thank you, but no. Miriam made me a drink. I don’t have much of an appetite today.’

  Evelyn was so slight Lexie guessed she didn’t eat much at the best of times. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘You could get my shawl. I’m feeling a little chilly.’

  ‘Of course, where is it?’

  ‘In my downstairs bedroom.’ Evelyn managed a chuckle. ‘Sounds very grand, doesn’t it. I can’t always manage the stairs, and the doctor wanted me to go into a home, or the hospice. I know they think I’m an awkward old lady, but I didn’t want to move.’

  ‘Quite right. No one should have to leave their home if they don’t want to,’ said Lexie.

  ‘Gareth and Helen kindly helped move some of my things downstairs, and we’ve turned the dining room into my second bedroom. It’s very nice. Occasionally I have good days and can get upstairs, but it’s good to know I don’t have to.’

  Lexie went into the downstairs bedroom and found the shawl.

  She stopped by the grandfather clock; such a shame this was a hall. The heavy oak beam across the ceiling gave the room character.

  ‘Did you find it?’ called Evelyn.

  ‘Yes, sorry. I’ve got it here. I was just admiring your grandfather clock.’

  Lexie arranged the shawl over Evelyn’s narrow shoulders and then sat in the chair opposite her. ‘I saw Miriam as I came in. She’s not very communicative.’

  ‘It’s not you, dear. Miriam’s not had many people in her life she could trust, so it doesn’t come easily.’

  Much as she and Helen had assumed.

  ‘Have you heard anything from Patrick?’

  The look on Evelyn’s face gave Lexie her answer.

  Ruth and Fiona were playing when Lexie arrived at the pre-school to collect them. They ran over to her, arms full of the new toys they’d discovered.

  ‘Can we come back?’ asked Ruth.

  ‘Yes, you can come here tomorrow.’

  They were pleased to see her but had enjoyed the time at pre-school. A success. Lexie grinned at Helen and mimed a relieved wiping of her forehead.

  They stood together at school, waiting for Tilly and Rachel. When the girls came out, they both held large pieces of drawing paper.

  ‘Miss Baker asked us to draw our family doing something they like. She said mine was very good.’ Tilly held up the painting for Lexie to inspect.

  Lexie looked at the paper, not quite sure what it was supposed to represent. ‘It’s lovely, darling.’ She resisted asking what it was, hoping Tilly would explain. There was a brown line across part of the paper, with what looked like four feet sticking up. Higher up the paper was a square, which Lexie guessed was a window as there was a good attempt at the blossom trees in the garden.

  ‘It’s you and Daddy in bed. I told Miss Baker you like lying in bed.’

  Lexie hadn’t blushed in years, but she felt her cheeks getting hot.

  Helen suppressed a smile. ‘There’s twenty other children in there all coming out with similar things. The teacher will be immune to it.’

  ‘What did you draw, Rachel?’ asked Lexie.

  ‘Mum cooking in the kitchen. She likes doing that.’

  ‘My mum doesn’t,’ said Tilly. ‘She says rude words when she’s cooking, but she tells me off if I say them.’

  ‘No secrets with Tilly around.’ Lexie pulled a face. ‘Come on, time to go home.’

  Helen caught hold of her arm. ‘Don’t worry about
it. See you tomorrow.’

  Lexie dropped the children off the following morning and was only back a short time before her parents arrived. She gave them a hug and kiss, and after they brought in their bags she showed them around Cherry Tree Cottage and the garden.

  ‘It’s quirky,’ said her mother, with a smile. ‘Although it has a lot of good qualities. The garden and orchard are beautiful, and I’m sure the children love it. I’m sorry we didn’t give you longer to settle in, but we want to see an exhibition that’s on in Nettleford, and this week was the only time we could both get away for a few days.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, it’s great to see you both, and the girls are really excited.’

  For lunch, Lexie took her parents to Java on West. While they were in the café, Roni and one of her friends arrived.

  Jean tapped Lexie’s arm and pointed discreetly. ‘Is that Veronica Hardcastle?’

  Of course, that’s why she’d seemed familiar. Lexie had seen Veronica’s photo next to her magazine articles. She’d skimmed a couple in Icon magazine as she waited in the supermarket queue. They were lurid, racy pieces, full of innuendo, targeting popular celebrities.

  Alistair Janssen rolled his neck from side to side a couple of times. His hair was greyer than the last time she’d seen him and he looked tired.

  ‘How’s crime in Winchester?’ asked Lexie. ‘Still keeping you busy.’

  ‘You make me sound like a criminal mastermind, instead of someone who’s trying to catch them.’

  ‘Are there lots of criminals in Winchester? I thought it was a quiet backwater.’

  ‘Quieter than London, but unfortunately we have our moments.’

  Lexie’s father had been in the police in London through Lexie’s childhood, and it was only after closing a big case which had taken a toll on his health that Jean had finally persuaded him to move out of the city. Lexie guessed her mother would have preferred him to take early retirement and find a less dangerous job, but that would never happen.

  The waitress brought over their drinks, and Lexie thanked her. No doubt the staff were thrilled she didn’t have the children with her today. ‘So what’s this exhibition you want to see?’

  ‘Sculptures. It’s being held in the grounds of Longcross House,’ said Jean.

  It was the last thing Lexie thought her parents would be interested in visiting. ‘I’m not sure where that is, but I can ask Helen or look it up online. If it’s fine tomorrow, we can go once I’ve dropped the girls off.’

  ‘Have they settled in okay?’ asked her dad.

  ‘Pretty well, although they were less keen this morning, as they knew you were coming. I guess the novelty will soon wear off, especially once Tilly realises school isn’t an option she can choose.’

  Later that afternoon, the three of them went to collect the children. Tilly dragged her grandparents into the school to meet Miss Barnes and see where she sat in class. Lexie asked Helen about Longcross House.

  ‘That’s where Veronica lives. You know, the magazine woman.’

  ‘We saw her in the café. I thought she’d be the kind of person who’d prefer to live in London and go to all the glamorous parties.’

  ‘Oh, she does,’ said Helen. ‘She wanders around here making out she’s better than everyone else then gets bored and goes off to her apartment in London.’

  ‘But why Nettleford? If she wanted a country place, I’d have imagined her living in Surrey or Hampshire with all the celebs and being able to dig even more dirt on them?’

  ‘She’s married to Jed Middlehurst. He owns Longcross House. His family have been here for generations. The usual story of inheriting a big house but no money. However, that all changed with Jed. He made a fortune starting up and selling a couple of businesses and restored the family home. His first wife died of cancer. Then along came Veronica. I feel sorry for his son Jamie. He got shuttled off to boarding school soon after Veronica arrived on the scene. It could have been coincidence…’

  Lexie nodded. ‘She is good looking, but in a hard way, doesn’t appear the motherly sort. That’s ironic coming from me.’

  Her parents came out of the school with Tilly. ‘Look at that, Tilly’s still talking.’ She pulled a face. ‘I can’t imagine who she gets that from.’

  The following morning, Lexie took her parents to the exhibition. She let their conversation fade into the background as she concentrated on finding her way through Nettleford towards the green fields. There was a sign for the estate, and Lexie turned into a long, fine-gravel driveway. It wound through oak, ash and birch trees, and as they turned a corner a wide two-storeyed house in pale red brick stood at the far end of the drive.

  Before they reached the house, the driveway split into two, with the narrower portion signposted to the gardens. From the exhibition information Lexie’s mother had flourished under her nose, Lexie knew this was where they needed to go, but she would love an excuse to see inside the house.

  It had a deep porch and a double-width door flanked by tall windows. On both sides of the main frontage was another wing. A short distance from the house was a building that might once have been stables, but which now boasted two sets of double garage doors.

  Lexie turned onto the secondary driveway, also neatly filled with the fine pink-hued gravel that contrasted with the house. The drive ran down a slope to some tall hedging, behind which was an area for visitors to park. A path led to a small copse of trees, and beyond that were wide parklands interspersed with silver birches, raised flower beds and a hedged rose garden.

  An unobtrusive sign mapped the area that visitors were allowed to roam and showed the location of each sculpture exhibit.

  There were two other parked cars but no sign of the occupants. Lexie sauntered around the rose garden, enjoying the peace and wonderful scent from the flowers. She sat on a bench and stretched out her legs in the sunshine. There was no sign of her parents; they must have gone to find the sculptures.

  After a while, she wandered out of the rose garden and headed towards a group of trees and shrubs. Something shimmered in front of her. She stopped and shielded her eyes, then moved a little to her left before realising what had startled her. It was a sculpture, about five inches taller than her, probably six feet in height, in a polished and mirrored metal that reflected the trees and shrubs, giving hints of insubstantiality. From her original position she saw only the reflection of trees, but when she moved to one side she saw the definition of the sculpture, which was about nine inches in depth. She shook her head and moved back to her original position. Amazing.

  Behind the sculpture, she found a small plaque detailing the metals used and the inspiration for the piece.

  ‘Portal. It couldn’t really be called anything else.’ She laughed a little self-consciously at the fright it had given her.

  As she crossed a large area of grass, she saw her father at the bottom of a slope, deep in conversation on his mobile. Nothing new there. She looked around but couldn’t see her mother.

  She made her way over a wooden bridge. The water trickled across rounded pebbles, making small waves and eddies. Lexie remembered fishing for tiddlers in such a stream when she was a kid, armed with a fishing net and jam jar.

  On the far side, Lexie found other sculptures but none affected her as much as Portal. She wandered along Spring Blossom Valley. In season it would be a profusion of snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils. Imagine being rich enough to have a garden this size.

  Finally, she found herself in an area filled with camellias, magnolias and rhododendrons, planted to give a sense of seclusion. Almost hidden by some large magnolias, Lexie saw her mother talking with another woman. They stood in the shade of the bushes next to a bronze armillary sphere on a granite base. Lexie knew the proper name from reading the exhibit information, but she would have called it a sundial. She was still puzzled why her mother had wanted to visit the exhibition. Jean had never shown any interest in sculptures before.

  The two women were side-on to L
exie, facing the sundial, and hadn’t noticed her approaching. When Lexie spoke, her mother jumped. An expression flashed across her face which Lexie couldn’t read, but her mother obviously hadn’t expected anyone to surprise them.

  ‘Ah. Lexie, it’s you.’ Jean stumbled over the words, at a loss for something to say. Unusual for her.

  ‘Hello.’ The other woman smiled at Lexie.

  ‘This is my daughter Alexandra.’ Jean looked flustered, although her face was its usual pale tone. ‘Lexie, this is Dominique Santos. It’s her exhibition. I wanted to see the sculptures but never thought I’d actually meet the artist.’ Jean’s sentences accelerated, the final words rushing over themselves in her effort to get them out.

  Dominique Santos reached out to shake Lexie’s hand. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise. Portal is amazing. It gave me quite a shock when I first saw it.’

  Dominique smiled like a woman whose baby has just been admired. ‘The trick is to see it first from exactly the right angle. We placed it where people would mostly approach it from the front and see exactly the effect you did.’

  ‘A shimmer of light and the reflection of the trees making you think there’s nothing there…’

  ‘…but a portal to another world,’ added Dominique. ‘I’m glad we succeeded so well.’ She glanced towards Jean then smiled at them both. ‘If you would excuse me, this is the first week of the exhibition and there are still a few things I need to sort out.’ She gave a little nod before turning and walking away.

  ‘Have you seen your father?’ Jean didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Goodness knows where he is.’ She gave Lexie a quick look. ‘Come on.’ Her tone was as if Lexie had been holding her back from an important appointment.

  She moved towards the bridge at a swifter pace than usual. The opposite direction to the one Dominique Santos had taken.

  Lexie followed. ‘What was that all about?’

  ‘What?’