Murder at Honeychurch Hall: A Mystery

by Hannah Dennison

  A very fine eighteenth-century French tulipwood and parquetry display cabinet contained more porcelain snuff boxes and some early glassware. David’s comment about the robbery being an inside job struck me anew.

  With David’s determination to expose the fraud, Rupert’s plans to break up the estate, and the horror of Vera’s murder, things did not bode well for one of England’s greatest families.

  Clive had said Shawn was going to make an arrest. Since Lady Edith and Lavinia had solid alibis, that left the four men in the room—Cropper, Rupert, William, and Eric—one of them was responsible for Vera’s death. Cropper didn’t seem physically capable, William claimed to be with a horse all night, and Eric had a firm alibi. That left Rupert.

  Sensing my eyes upon him, he looked up. I expected to see defiance or even guilt but instead Rupert just looked sad.

  Shawn walked in followed by Clive who was carrying a Tesco plastic shopping bag and the large brown envelope I’d given to Roxy earlier. Shawn scanned the room, pointedly ignored my smile of greeting, and said, “Are we all here?”

  “Vera isn’t,” chipped in Harry. “Where is she?”

  “I knew this would happen,” Lavinia declared. “I told you I didn’t want Harry here.”

  “Vera’s gone on holiday, my pet,” said Lady Edith. “Can we please get this over with?”

  “Roxy will be here any moment,” said Clive. “She’s gone to the toilet.”

  “Mummy told me we can’t say toilet,” said Harry. “It’s common. We say lavatory.”

  “Hush,” hissed Lavinia but cracked a smile. The tension eased and a peculiar giggle–half snort erupted from my mother.

  Roxy threw open the door and hurried in. “I’m dying for a cuppa.”

  “There will be no cuppas today,” said Shawn gravely. He perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of Harry. “I just have a quick question for you, young man, and then Roxy is going to take you for an ice cream.”

  “Okay,” said Harry.

  “I want to talk about yesterday morning in the sunken garden,” said Shawn. “You and Kat were playing—”

  “We were on a mission.” Harry looked to me for reassurance. I gave him an encouraging smile. “We were looking for one of our men who had been captured by the Germans.”

  “We were looking for Flying Officer Jazzbo Jenkins, weren’t we, Harry?” I said.

  “Jazzbo Jenkins?” said Lady Edith sharply. “Did you say Jazzbo Jenkins?”

  Lavinia rolled her eyes. “It’s just one of Harry’s silly games, Edith.”

  “Jazzbo Jenkins is a Merrythought ‘Jerry’ mouse, your ladyship,” I said. “As you know, I deal in antiques. Jerry mice are quite hard to find.”

  “I’m sure Shawn doesn’t care about toy mice,” said Rupert.

  “Well, I do,” said Lady Edith. “Tell me about Jazzbo Jenkins, Harry.”

  “Jazzbo wears a blue cardigan,” said Harry. “But he doesn’t have any badges like William’s mouse, Ella Fitzgerald.”

  “Don’t you mean your Granny’s mouse, Harry?” I said pointedly. I tried to catch Mum’s eye, hoping she’d understand the significance of the question but her own were fixed on William.

  “No. It’s William’s,” Harry insisted.

  “Where did you find Jazzbo Jenkins?” Lady Edith demanded.

  “Jazzbo belonged to my mother, your ladyship,” I said.

  Lady Edith gasped. “Your mother?”

  I felt, rather than saw, Mum look daggers at me but I didn’t care. I was getting fed up with all these ridiculous secrets.

  “Can we just get on with this?” said Rupert. “Seriously? Mice?”

  “Of course, your lordship,” said Shawn smoothly. “Master Harry, did you and Kat go to the grotto in the sunken garden yesterday?”

  “I went there alone,” I insisted. “I told you all this yesterday.”

  “Let Master Harry answer the question, please,” said Shawn.

  “No.” Harry shook his head. “I don’t like the grotto.”

  “He doesn’t like it there,” Lavinia echoed.

  “So you’re positive you didn’t go anywhere near the grotto?” Shawn said again.

  “He already told you he didn’t,” said Rupert.

  Shawn stood up and started pacing around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “The exact location of the grotto is very hard to find,” he said in a pompous tone. “I grew up here. I know the estate like the back of my hand and I still have trouble locating the entrance.”

  Shawn spun on his heel and turned to me, “So what were you doing near the grotto, Ms. Stanford?”

  I was no longer Kat. I was now Ms. Stanford. With a sinking heart, I suspected where this line of questioning was heading. “I stumbled upon it by accident.”

  “And where was Master Harry when you stumbled upon the grotto by accident?” asked Shawn.

  “Harry had run off.”

  Shawn cocked his head. “But weren’t you supposed to be looking after him?”

  “Tell them what happened in the sunken garden, Harry,” I said. “With William’s mouse.”

  “I only borrowed it,” Harry whispered. “I was going to put it back.”

  “What did you take this time, Harry?” Lavinia demanded. “You must stop taking people’s things without their permission!”

  “Don’t shout at him,” said Rupert.

  Harry’s bottom lip began to quiver. “I just borrowed William’s mouse, the one with all the badges because Jazzbo wasn’t where I left him.”

  “Shawn, is this really necessary?” William hurried over. He appealed to Lady Edith. “Whether Harry took one of my childhood souvenirs or not is irrelevant—”

  “But I thought you said the mouse belonged to Lady Edith, William?” I said.

  A faint blush began to creep its way up William’s neck. “I said no such thing—”

  “I don’t see what this has got to do with Vera’s death,” Rupert grumbled.

  “Harry presented me with William’s mouse probably hoping I wouldn’t notice,” I said. “When I questioned him, he became upset and ran off. I followed him and ended up near the grotto.”

  Shawn and Roxy exchanged a look as if to say, sure you did.

  I felt my temper rise. “I saw something glinting in the undergrowth that looked like Morse code. I thought Harry was sending me a message but it was the sunlight bouncing off the snuff box.”

  “Snuff box?” said Lady Edith. “A snuff box?”

  “As you know, Edith,” said William smoothly, “Kat found the Meissen with the elephant on the lid in the sunken garden and she gave it to me.”

  “The elephant!” Lady Edith exclaimed and then seemed confused. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did tell you,” said William. He walked over to the tulipwood and marquetry display cabinet, reached far inside, and handed it to Lady Edith.

  “You most certainly did not tell me.” Lady Edith examined it closely. “Thankfully there doesn’t seem to be any damage.”

  Lavinia gripped Harry’s arm tightly. “Did you take that from Granny?”

  Harry started to cry. “I didn’t touch it. I promise. I didn’t.”

  “Now, now, stop all this nonsense,” said Rupert. “If he said he didn’t touch it, he didn’t touch it.”

  “I think he’s had enough, Shawn.” Roxy stepped forward. “Master Harry, would you like to come with me and get an ice cream?”

  Harry allowed Roxy to take his hand and they left the drawing room.

  Once everyone seemed to have settled down again, Mum suddenly spoke. “Officer? When were you planning on telling us that the nanny—Gayla—has been found?”

  There was a universal chorus of surprise. Good old Mum. I knew she’d done this to take the focus off me and I was grateful. Frankly, I was disappointed that Shawn could even begin to suspect I’d had something to do with Vera’s murder.

  “Yes, it’s true,” said Shawn. “Gayla Tarasova is alive an
d well.”

  “Thank you for letting us know, Shawn,” said Lady Edith crossly.

  “All that fuss for nothing,” said Lavinia. “Where was she?”

  “In Dartmouth,” Shawn said. “Gayla was picked up for shoplifting with her friend Anna.”

  “I told you she had a friend called Anna,” said Mum.

  Lavinia frowned. “But why would Gayla put us through all that worry? I don’t understand.”

  “I’m at a loss, too, Shawn,” said Rupert. “What about her suitcase? Why leave all her clothes behind?”

  “The suitcase was empty when we found it,” said Shawn. “A fact I couldn’t have revealed at the time.”

  “There was nothing in it?” Rupert said incredulously.

  “She had a second suitcase inside the first,” said Shawn. “Ms. Tarasova admitted abandoning the larger one in the hedge and cutting through the fields to the village where her friend was waiting for her. She never intended to catch the train.”

  “I hope you’ll charge her for wasting police time,” said Rupert.

  “Gayla provided us with a full statement of what happened. It appears she was upset at being accused of theft. Apparently, she and Vera had a bit of a fight.”

  Lavinia rolled her eyes. “How tedious.”

  “I’m afraid there was more to it, your ladyship,” said Shawn. “Gayla had been having an affair with—”

  “Me,” Eric shouted.

  Mum and I exchanged looks of surprise.

  “Eric’s always been a bit of a ladies’ man,” said Rupert with obvious relief.

  Of course Eric was lying. He was also covering for Rupert—given their volatile disagreement on Saturday night. I wondered what had changed between them.

  Still Lady Edith didn’t comment. She seemed to be in a world of her own, mumbling incoherently, shaking her head, and stealing the occasional sidelong glance at my mother who, in turn, was watching William’s every move.

  Lavinia frowned. “So you think it was Gayla who killed Vera?”

  “My poor Vera.” Eric gave a strangled sob. “We had our problems but I loved her.”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Shawn. “You see—Gayla couldn’t have committed the crime because she spent the weekend at Her Majesty’s pleasure in Dartmouth Police Station.”

  There was a ripple of shock.

  Lady Edith finally spoke. “It’s time for the truth,” she said. “I’m tired of all the secrets and lies.”

  “I am, too,” I said, more loudly than I intended.

  Mum scrambled to her feet. “We’ll be off then,” she said. “This is obviously a family affair and you won’t want us here.”

  “On the contrary, Mrs. Stanford,” Shawn said. “We need to go over Vera’s last movements again and we want you both here. Very much indeed.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “The coroner informed us that Vera died somewhere between midnight and six on Sunday morning.” Shawn began to pace the room. “She suffered a blunt force trauma to the side of her head—”

  “Oh, how frightful,” said Lavinia. “You mean someone struck her with a heavy object?”

  “Possibly,” said Shawn. “But she regained consciousness. The actual cause of death was by asphyxiation.”

  There was a universal gasp of horror.

  “You mean she was suffocated?” Eric exclaimed. “How? With what?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. We haven’t yet discovered where the first attack took place,” said Shawn, adding apologetically, “We’re a bit short-staffed.”

  “I thought it happened in the grotto,” said Rupert.

  “No. Her body was taken to the grotto—possibly by car,” Shawn said. “The service road runs alongside the property.”

  Shawn flipped to a new page in his moleskin notepad and addressed Lady Edith and Lavinia. “Ladies? Where were you on Saturday night?”

  “Edith and I attended a committee meeting in Tavistock followed by a frightfully long, dreary dinner at Shipley Abbey,” said Lavinia. “We go every year to finalize the details for next month’s Honeychurch Hall Sidesaddle Championship. It will be our forty-fifth year. It’s a tremendous tradition.”

  “And what time did you get home that night?” Shawn asked.

  “About two-thirty,” Lavinia replied. “We didn’t leave the hotel until midnight and as you know, it’s across the moors and we got a little lost.”

  “You let Mother drive, didn’t you?” Rupert exclaimed. “I told you she mustn’t drive at night.”

  Lavinia ignored his outburst and carried on. “I remembered looking at my watch because we went to check on Jupiter—she’s a frightfully valuable mare—and William was still there.”

  “That’s right,” said William. “As I said, Jupiter had colic and Ian Masters—our vet—thought it wise for me to stay with her overnight. Do you want Ian’s telephone number?”

  “I’ve already spoken to him,” said Clive from the sidelines. “He’s a mate. We play rugby together. Ian confirmed that he gave Jupiter a dose of ketamine to alleviate her symptoms and left an extra shot with you in case she needed more.”

  “Quite the old boys’ club,” whispered Mum.

  Shawn motioned for Clive to step forward and whispered the word, “Paris.”

  Clive delved into the Tesco shopping bag and pulled out the Eiffel Tower keepsake tin I recognized from Vera’s cottage.

  “Just pop it on the coffee table where everyone can see, will you?” Shawn asked Clive.

  Rupert inhaled sharply and turned pale. “Good God!”

  “Vera always dreamt of going to Paris,” said Eric.

  “I believe this tin belonged to Kelly,” said Shawn. “Isn’t that right, m’lord?”

  Rupert nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Do we have to talk about that frightful girl?” said Lady Edith. “She died years ago.”

  “No more secrets and lies, your ladyship,” Shawn said firmly. “Isn’t that what you said?”

  “Where did you find the tin?” Rupert asked.

  “At the bottom of Vera’s freezer in the potting shed,” said Shawn.

  “In our freezer?” Eric exclaimed. “What the hell was it doing in there?”

  “Do you want to open it and see what’s inside?” Shawn said.

  Rupert didn’t need any encouragement. In two quick strides he snatched up the tin and removed the lid. “My God. It’s Kelly’s EpiPen!”

  “And I believe there is another pen in there, too,” said Shawn. “A fountain pen with the initials L-M-C-H.”

  Rupert frowned and turned to Lavinia. “This is your fountain pen,” he said. “Lavinia Mary Carew Honeychurch.”

  Lavinia opened her mouth and shut it again. She seemed unable to speak.

  “What’s going on?” Rupert demanded. “Why was Lavinia’s pen in Kelly’s tin and what has this got to do with my wife?”

  “I wonder which wife you are talking about, Rupert,” said Lady Edith coldly.

  Lavinia reddened. “Vera must have stolen my pen.”

  “Is that why you were at Vera’s cottage yesterday morning?” said Shawn. “Looking for that pen?”

  Rupert raked his fingers through his hair, clearly bewildered. “Won’t someone tell me what the hell is going on here?”

  “Perhaps you’d like to enlighten us, Lady Lavinia?” said Shawn.

  “Nothing is going on,” said Lavinia.

  Mrs. Cropper stepped forward. “If you won’t say something, your ladyship,” she said gravely, “I will.”

  Lavinia sprang to her feet. “Alright. Yes. It’s true!” she cried. “It was an accident. I didn’t even know that a wretched bee had stung Kelly. She just collapsed I tell you.” Tears filled Lavinia’s eyes. “She went purple in the face and collapsed!”

  “Take a deep breath now,” said Shawn. “Tell us everything.”

  “Kelly and I arranged to go riding. It was a hot summer day and the honeybees were acting up. Cropper asked me to make
sure Kelly took her EpiPen with her in case she got stung—”

  “Did you know Kelly was allergic to bees?” asked Shawn.

  Lavinia shrugged. “Vera said Kelly was making it up to get attention.”

  “Go on,” Rupert’s voice was icy.

  “So we both hid it.”

  “Hid it,” Shawn echoed. “Where?”

  “It was childish, I know—and I changed my mind,” said Lavinia. “I ran back to the Hall to find Vera but she’d disappeared—along with the EpiPen.” Lavinia appealed to Rupert. “I swear it was an accident.”

  “You were jealous of Kelly,” said Shawn. “Because you and Rupert had been engaged before they eloped during a New Year’s Eve dinner. Isn’t that true?”

  “You know jolly well we were engaged.” Lavinia recovered a tiny bit of her self-respect and added, “Don’t be so pompous!”

  “But it all worked out for you in the end,” Shawn went on. “Because just months after Kelly’s death you fell pregnant and his lordship did the decent thing and married you after all.”

  “I told you it was a frightful, frightful accident.” Lavinia was becoming hysterical. “I made sure we didn’t go anywhere near the hives. One moment she was fine and we were drinking cherry brandy and the next minute, she fell off her horse.” Lavinia turned to Rupert pleading again, “You must believe me.”

  He turned away and strode over to the window, gazing out—presumably—at the white marble angel on the banks of the lake.

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, I was utterly gripped and I could tell Mum was, too. She was leaning forward with her mouth open in awe. I could almost hear her mind working out a new plot for her Star-Crossed Lovers Series.

  “I galloped back to the Hall to get the EpiPen,” Lavinia continued. “Vera pretended she didn’t know what I was talking about. She denied any knowledge of her part. She never liked me—”

  “But she disliked Kelly more,” Shawn put in.

  “You can’t force a bee to sting someone,” said Mum suddenly.

  “She wasn’t stung,” said Mrs. Cropper quietly. “If anyone is to blame for Kelly’s death, it’s me.”

  Shawn looked confused. “Gran?”