Grave in the Garage (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Golden,Alison

  “Oh my!” Annabelle exclaimed. “That’s quite a story!”

  “It is no story,” Mr. Austin said, seriously. “It is my life. Which is why I usually prefer not to reveal such things.”

  “Of course,” Annabelle said, quickly matching the old man’s seriousness, “but I’m afraid I can’t accept this money, Mr. Austin. This money belongs to the men of Upton St. Mary. You should give it back.”

  “I already have,” Mr. Austin replied. “This is what’s left.”

  “You mean this is the money you took from the other men? The ones from outside the village?”

  “Precisely.”

  Annabelle breathed deeply, struggling to keep up with this extraordinary turn of events.

  “This money should go to the police,” Annabelle said.

  “No, it should not, Reverend,” Mr. Austin replied adamantly. “This is my money, and it should go where I intend it. Now look, Reverend, I have heard about your difficulties in raising funds for the cemetery, and at my stage of life, this is troubling. I’ll be needing it myself soon. Upton St. Mary has been my home for many years. It is a place that has allowed me to live out my life in peace and solitude, just as I wished it. I am deeply indebted and grateful to this corner of the world, and it is my last wish that I be buried here. Now, if you feel better about it, consider this payment in advance for my eternal resting place, plus funeral expenses.”

  “But Mr. Austin—”

  “I am an old man, Reverend. Old enough to be stubborn. Old enough to be taken on authority. Take this money, and fix the cemetery. If, when my time comes, it is unable to accommodate me, then I shall regard it as a promise broken.”

  “Mr.—”

  “Goodbye, Reverend.”

  Though Mr. Austin’s words were quick and strong, the pace with which he turned and left was anything but. Were Annabelle not so taken aback by the events that had just unfolded, she might have stopped him, but instead she simply watched him amble out of the office in his uniquely awkward manner.

  Once he was gone, Annabelle secured the money away in the safe and took a few moments to gather herself before rejoining the others out in the church. She emerged from the office beaming, and when she caught sight of the Inspector placing his gifts onto the gigantic pile, her smile grew even wider.

  “Annabelle!” he called, relishing the informality.

  “Hello, Mike,” Annabelle replied, emphasizing his name with good humor. “I didn’t expect you to still be in the village.”

  “Well,” he said, leaning down to pet the puppy at his heel, “I was just clearing some things up before I take Molly here back to Truro.”

  “Molly! I like that name. Hello there, Molly!” Annabelle said, kneeling beside the Inspector to scratch the dog’s head.

  Nicholls laughed as Molly licked Annabelle’s hand. They stood up together.

  “So,” Annabelle began, “the gambling ring. You’ve broken it up? Is it all over?”

  “The gambling? Absolutely. We caught them at it, and it didn’t take much for these criminals to spill the dirt on each other. ‘No honor among thieves,’ and all that. As for the men in the village, we decided to let them go. Their wives will judge and punish them much more effectively than the police ever could. I’m pretty sure none of them will go anywhere near so much as a betting shop ever again.”

  Annabelle smiled at the Inspector’s good judgment.

  “I am going to check into that Crawford character, though. I’d like to see what exactly he gets up to in that business of his. A gambling ring…” he mused, shaking his head. “Here in Upton St. Mary… I still can’t believe it.”

  “I hate to say I told you so, but I was right.”

  “Yes, yes,” the Inspector said. “You’ve got to admit, though, at the time it sounded ludicrous! A gambling ring! In Upton St. Mary?” he repeated, “Sometimes, Annabelle, you seem a little too ahead of us all when it comes to certain matters. If I didn’t know better, I’d have suspected you were part of it. Or maybe you have a direct line to an all-knowing higher authority!” he added, chuckling.

  Annabelle laughed heartily. “If that were true, I would be somewhere a lot sunnier and warmer than here!” she said, nodding at the pouring rain through the open doors of the church.

  Nicholls turned to watch the downpour, then looked back to the Reverend with a small smile. “No, you wouldn’t,” he said. “I doubt the crown jewels could tempt you away from this village.”

  Annabelle blushed a little as she gazed over the departing villagers who were finally gathering up enough willpower to brave the rain and make their way home.

  “There are more valuable things than riches, that’s for sure,” she said, looking up at the Inspector. “And the puppy? You’re keeping her?”

  The Inspector’s eyes softened when he looked down at his small, brown faithful friend.

  “Suppose I’ll have to. Doesn’t look like she wants to go anywhere, and I have to admit, she was pretty useful. I’ll call James Paynton in the morning. Tell him I don’t need one of his dogs after all.”

  Annabelle beamed with delight.

  The Inspector looked back at her, his eyes still soft, both of them seeming to consider the other in a different light and with a new perspective.

  “I hope it doesn’t take a murder to bring you back to Upton St. Mary again, Mike,” said Annabelle, holding out her hand. Nicholls took it softly.

  “Is that an invitation?”

  Annabelle laughed lightly.

  “If you need one.”

  “Then I suppose we’ll be seeing each other very soon.”

  “I look forward to it. Goodbye, Mike.”

  “Until next time, Annabelle.”

  REVERENTIAL RECIPES

  MIRACULOUS ENGLISH MADELINES

  For the madelines:

  1 stick butter, softened

  ½ cup sugar

  2 eggs, beaten

  ½ cup flour

  1½ teaspoons baking powder

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  1 tablespoon warm water

  To finish:

  2-4 tablespoons red fruit jelly

  4 tablespoons shredded coconut

  6 candied cherries, halved

  Preheat the oven to 350°F/180°C. Grease 6-8 dariole molds with butter and dust with flour.

  Cream together the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl until light and fluffy, using an electric or rotary beater or wooden spoon. Beat in the eggs.

  Sieve the flour with the baking powder and salt. Stir in 1 tablespoon of flour into the butter mixture until well mixed. Gradually fold in the remaining flour. Add enough water to give the mixture a soft, dropping consistency.

  Divide the mixture equally between dariole molds. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until well-risen and golden.

  Turn the madelines carefully out of the molds, upside down, and leave to cool. Trim the bases if they do not stand up well. When cool, brush with the sieved jelly, then roll in the coconut. Stand upright on a serving plate and decorate the top of each with a halved candied cherry.

  Makes 6 to 8.

  VENERABLE VICTORIA SANDWICH

  For the sponge cake:

  1 cup sugar

  1½ sticks butter

  3 eggs, beaten

  1½ cups flour

  2¼ teaspoons baking powder

  ¼ + ⅛ teaspoons salt

  2 tablespoons warm water

  Strawberry jelly for spreading

  For the glacé icing:

  1¼ cups powdered sugar

  1-2 tablespoons warm water

  Walnut halves for decoration

  Preheat the oven to 375°F/190°C. Grease two 7-inch sandwich tins and dust with flour.

  Cream together the sugar and butter in a mixing bowl until light and fluffy, using an electric beater or wooden spoon. Gradually beat in the eggs.

  Sift the flour, baking powder, and salt. Stir 1 tablespoon of flour into the butter mixture until well mixed. Gradually fold in the rema
ining flour. Add enough water to give the mixture a soft, dropping consistency. Pour into sandwich tins.

  Bake just above the center of the oven for about 20 minutes or until well-risen and golden, and the cakes have shrunk away from the sides of the baking tins.

  Turn out onto a wire rack and leave to cool. Spread the jelly evenly over one cake and place the remaining cake on top.

  To prepare the icing, sift the icing sugar into a mixing bowl. Gradually mix in the water until a smooth paste is formed. It should coat the back of the spoon. Quickly beat out any lumps. Spread over the cake before the icing is set, and decorate around the edge with your decoration.

  Serves 8 – 10.

  MARVELOUS MERINGUES

  2 egg whites

  ½ cup fine sugar

  A little fine sugar for dredging

  1 cup of whipping cream, whisked to stiffness

  Preheat the oven to 225°F/120°C. Put the egg whites in a large mixing bowl and beat until stiff with a balloon whisk, rotary, or electric beater. Fold in 1 tablespoon of the sugar, then beat again until smooth and satiny. It should stand in peaks. Fold in the remaining sugar with a large metal spoon.

  Put the meringue mixture into an icing bag fitted with a ½-inch plain pipe. Pipe into small rounds on parchment paper placed on a baking sheet. Dredge with a little sugar.

  Bake in the oven for 1 to 2 hours or until the meringues are crisp and firm to the touch. If the meringues begin to turn brown, open the oven door slightly.

  Remove from the oven, and leave to cool on a wire rack. Peel off the paper when the meringues are completely cold, and sandwich together with the whipped cream just before serving.

  Makes approximately 6.

  Notes:

  Meringues are easy to make if a few basic rules are followed. Make sure all your equipment is grease-free. Use 2 ounces of fine sugar for every egg white. Refrigerate the egg whites for 24 hours before using. Do not overbeat once the sugar is added. Bake at a very low temperature.

  FLAMING FLORENTINE SLICES

  12 oz. of semi-sweet baking chocolate, broken into pieces, or chips

  ½ stick of butter

  ½ cup brown sugar

  1 egg, beaten

  2 oz. of mixed dried fruit

  1 cup finely shredded coconut

  2 oz. of candied cherries, quartered

  Preheat the oven to 300°F/150°C. Put the chocolate pieces in a heatproof bowl, and stand it over a pan of hot water until melted, stirring occasionally. Spoon the chocolate into a greased 8-inch square cake tin or silicone baking pan. Spread out over the bottom and leave to set.

  Meanwhile, cream together the butter and sugar until the mixture is light and fluffy. Beat in the egg thoroughly. Mix together the remaining ingredients and add to the creamed mixture. Spoon into the tin and spread over the set chocolate.

  Bake in the center of the oven for 40 to 45 minutes, or until golden-brown. Remove from the oven and leave for 5 minutes, then carefully mark into squares with a sharp knife. The mixture will be quite sticky at this stage.

  Leave until cold, then loosen with a palette knife and lift carefully from the tin. Cut into squares.

  Makes 12 to 16.

  All ingredients are available from your local store or online retailer.

  You can find links to the ingredients used in these recipes at http://cozymysteries.com/grave-in-the-garage-recipes/

  To get your free copy of Death at the Café, the prequel to the Reverend Annabelle Dixon series, plus two more books, updates about new releases, exclusive promotions, and other insider information, sign up for the Cozy Mysteries Insider mailing list at:

  http://cozymysteries.com/annabelle

  REVEREND ANNABELLE DIXON WILL RETURN…

  WOULD YOU LIKE to find out what happens next for Annabelle? Check out the subsequent book in this fun, cozy mystery series, Horror in the Highlands. You can find an excerpt on the following pages.

  HORROR IN THE HIGHLANDS

  Chapter One

  Sunday

  IT WAS A short, sharp jolt that woke Annabelle up, followed immediately by the queasy sensation of being gently rocked on her back. Suddenly, she found herself grasping wildly for something to steady herself, but she succeeded only in banging her hand against the solid, cloth-covered wall next to which she lay. After opening her eyes, Annabelle went stiff with surprise, struck by the realization that this was not, indeed, her cozy bed in her cozy cottage in her cozy adopted parish of Upton St. Mary.

  The effect only lasted a few moments, just enough time for the gentle chug of railway tracks and the quaint, sparse decoration of the sleeper cabin to remind her of where she was.

  Suddenly feeling entirely awake, Annabelle threw aside her sheets and leaped out of the narrow cabin bed, quickly turning to the window. She furiously rubbed at the light mist that had covered the glass and gazed through it intently. Her breath stopped, her eyes widened, and her heart began to sing as soon as she saw what lay on the other side of the inch-thick glass. The beautiful Scottish highlands!

  Annabelle was on the Caledonian sleeper train on her way from London to Inverness. She soon discovered the cause of the rocky motions of her cabin as she saw the train winding itself along the crest of a riverbank, affording her an almost overwhelming view of the land that was unfurling ahead of her.

  “Oh my!” gasped Annabelle, as luscious, dark-green hills tumbled gracefully between the thick mists of a spring morning with faint traces of the winter snows at their highest points. Silver-clear water glistened its way through the craggy rocks that lay beneath overhanging branches. Even the gray clouds, dense and heavy, threatening to burst forth at any moment, somehow seemed joyous to her. It had been little over a year since she last visited Scotland, and though she remembered well enough how impressed she always was by the highland landscape, memories alone could not capture such magnificence.

  She had grown rather accustomed to the natural beauty of her parish in Upton St. Mary. It was delicate and garden-like. Down there, spring was a time of blossoming color and light breezes that made the budding, sprouting, emerging flora dance cheerfully. Here, however, there was no light breeze. Thistles and nettles stood defiantly, sturdy, and proud against the strong winds and heavy rains. One need only look at their surroundings to see why the Scots had a reputation for being a tough bunch. Demonstrations of courage and fortitude were all around them.

  After basking a little longer in the glorious scenery, during which Annabelle said a quiet, humble prayer, she set about getting dressed. She still had rather a long way to go; yet another train journey, and two ferries to catch before she reached her destination.

  Once ready, she picked up her heavy sports bag and made her way to the lounge car where she quickly secured herself a cup of hot tea and a comfortable seat in order to contemplate the view some more. It was an intimate carriage, and there were already a few early-risers enjoying their breakfasts. Annabelle glanced around and was greeted with quiet smiles and nods, attracting instinctive respect despite wearing her regular clothes rather than her customary cassock or even her black and white clerical collar.

  It struck her that only a very particular type of traveler still took the train. A garishly-colored plane could take you most of the way in a tenth of the time for the same price, or you could drive and enjoy the leisure of pit stops and the company of friends or family, even unswerving solitude. As she sat at her table, it seemed to Annabelle that only those with a very contemplative, appreciative, and patient disposition would choose the train as their preferred mode of transport; a group of people that Annabelle was happy to place herself among.

  She sipped from her teacup and reached down into her sports bag for the oatcakes Philippa had prepared for her. As she pulled the foil-wrapped package out of her bag, she could almost hear the voice of her church secretary fussing.

  “I don’t care if they do serve food on the train! It’ll be far too expensive and five days old anyway!”

  Annabell
e smiled as she unwrapped the package and nibbled delicately at its contents before furtively pushing one entire oatcake into her mouth and munching away. After satisfying herself with the treats that had been made with such care and concern, she brushed the crumbs away from her fingers and sipped the last of her tea. Reaching once more into her bag, Annabelle pulled out the gifts she had procured for the two people who were the reason for this long journey; the two people she loved most in the world, her older brother, Roger, and his daughter, Bonnie.

  The first was a hand-knitted scarf, in red and white, the colors of Arsenal football club, her brother’s singular passion during the time they had grown up together in the East of London. The scarf had been knitted by Mrs. Chamberlain, who lived just around the corner from St. Mary’s church, and who seemed to Annabelle to possess hands imbued with the dexterity of a concert pianist and the flight of a hummingbird. A computer programmer who worked from home, Roger still kept himself abreast of every fixture and transfer dealing that his beloved team were involved in, so Annabelle knew the gift would be appreciated. Especially on the blustery moors of Blodraigh island on a cold day. And the days were nearly always cold.

  Roger was a single dad, a widower. His daughter was seven-years-old. Annabelle had visited her niece almost every spring since the death of her mother when Bonnie was a baby. Now, as Annabelle watched the young girl grow ever more confident, energetic, and tall, the trips had become one of the highlights of the year for both of them. Annabelle adored her niece, finding in her a kindred spirit who loved sweet treats and laughter as much as she did, while Bonnie, growing up in the rather barren and isolated confines of the island, thought of her aunt as terribly exotic, and longed to hear tale after tale of what, to her, were the peculiar and far-off people and events of Upton St. Mary.