by Nancy Warren
“It must be incredibly difficult to teach teenagers. I remember being a teenager, and nobody could tell me anything.”
She chuckled. “I think that’s why I enjoy my job so much. If you can take a stubborn teenage head and force some knowledge into it, you’re doing an acceptable job. But when you see that moment a student gets it—when they begin to ask questions, the right questions—you can see that thirst for learning and you can guide them. Well, then I remember why I became a teacher.”
Once again I found myself running against a brick wall. I didn’t like to pry into these people’s lives, but if I didn’t, Enid Selfe might haunt me, and I was going to do anything I could to prevent that from happening. Even if it meant interrogating perfectly innocent people around the knitting table.
“I think I heard you say that you had left a fancy school where the parents pay high fees for a state school. Did you just get tired of all the snobs?”
She kept knitting, but her fingers went rigid. “Something like that.”
I was getting sick of this British stiff-upper-lip nonsense. We should move this interrogation to California, where everyone loved to spill their guts.
“What about inheritance?” Ryan asked out of nowhere.
There was dead silence for a second, and then Vinod said, “I beg your pardon?”
“Money.” Ryan glanced up and around the table. “Isn’t that why most people kill? For money?”
“But Enid had daughters. Her children will inherit her wealth.” Helen said and then her eyes widened.
We all stopped knitting and stared at Ryan. What if he really was Enid Selfe’s son? I was fuzzy on the laws here, but might he have a claim on her estate if he could prove he was her firstborn son?
I had no idea how rich she’d been. Was her estate large enough to tempt a forgotten son? But what about those girls that were her pride and joy? Could they be in danger from a brother they never knew they had?
He looked around, puzzled. “Why are you all staring at me like that?” And I saw the second he caught up to us. He shook his head and laughed. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. You are not pinning this on me. Enid Selfe couldn’t be my mother. At least I hope not. And if she was, I wouldn’t want anything from her.”
“Easy words to say.” Annabel had seemed quite sympathetic to Ryan, but she was also a strong woman making her way in the tough London job market. She didn’t waste time being nice. Now we all turned to stare at her. “I’m not saying Ryan killed the woman, only that the police should look into whether he’s really her son. We were all here when she said he might be.” She turned to him. “And we all heard what you said.”
He stared at her. “I can’t believe you. I thought we were friends.”
Her face was hard. “Matey, if you put the needles in that woman’s chest, we’ll consider the budding friendship over.”
He threw up his hands, and his knitting fell to the floor. “She’s not my mother, and I didn’t kill her.”
“Maybe you didn’t mean to kill her. You arranged to meet her here so you could talk but she enraged you so much that you temporarily lost your mind. It could happen.”
“Well, it didn’t bloody happen to me.”
I felt awful for Ryan but impressed with Annabel, who was doing the job I’d intended to do: figuring out who among us had a motive for murder.
Chapter 18
Before Ryan and Annabel started stabbing each other with knitting needles, I took the conversational ball back, determined to learn from Annabel. “Helen,” I said with false cheer. “What was it like teaching at a fancy boarding school with all those rich kids?”
She looked cornered and harassed. I felt really bad grilling her since she seemed like a very nice woman—unless she was a killer.
She looked around as though someone might come and rescue her. No one did. Finally she said, “Not much to tell, really. I had some very good students and some not so very good students. I taught there for eight years, and then it was time for a change.”
“Why?” I read the newspapers. I knew that England, like many places, was struggling to make education more accessible to all, while the gap between advantaged and disadvantaged students seemed to be growing. Rich people, as they always had, were sending their kids to very expensive schools. Those kids were groomed for the top universities. Boarding schools had prescribed homework times. The kids were expected to excel and offered every possible enrichment to make sure they did. They had debating teams, the most sophisticated and expensive computer labs. If they had a “let’s go to work with Mommy or Daddy” day, they’d be shadowing a cabinet minister, a surgeon, a television presenter, or a Nobel Prize-winning geneticist. Meanwhile, funding for state schools was being cut and teacher salaries weren’t rising, so good teachers were leaving the system, and fewer young people were going into teaching as a profession. Kids in state schools were falling further and further behind.
Helen patted her colorful lace as though it were an exotic pet. “My current school is closer to home, and state schools are desperate for science teachers.”
She came across like a dedicated teacher and a wonderful person, practically a saint. Could she have killed someone?
Playing a sudden hunch, I asked, “Which fancy, posh boarding school did you teach at?”
She shook her head at me like I was that annoying kid at the back of science class who always asked stupid questions and forgot to do their homework. “Lucy, stop calling it that. My school had a proper name. Castle Bromwich Ladies’ College. What about that sounds posh or fancy?”
She said the words in such a deadpan way that had I not seen the flash of humor cross her eyes, I never would have believed she was making a joke.
But, joke or no joke, she and Vinod must know each other.
Indeed, he turned to her with amazement. “You taught at Castle Bromwich? But I live there.”
She seemed genuinely surprised. “No. Do you really? Obviously, you don’t have a daughter in CBLC or I’d have met you by now.”
He chuckled. “I hope my daughter will one day go to that fine school, but she is only seven years old. My son goes to Bromwich Grammar School.”
“That’s an excellent school. How old is he?”
“Seventeen.” I could almost see his chest swell with pride. “He has been accepted to medical school here at Oxford.” This wasn’t the first time he’d shared this news with us, but Helen was too nice to say so.
“That’s wonderful. Some of the girls I taught would be about that age now. I wonder what’s happened to them all.”
I thought it was sweet that she cared. Also, neither she nor Vinod seemed furtive or guilty. In fact, I really believed they didn’t know each other. Or they were great liars. The sleuthing business was never simple.
Teddy and Margot Dodeson returned, and for the next hour he went around to each of us inspecting our designs, offering suggestions, and generally treating each knitter as though they were a budding fiber artist. Thankfully, since I was supposed to know what I was doing, he just patted me on the shoulder as he went by and didn’t comment on my work.
We broke for lunch at one o’clock. The crew left first while we packed up our knitting. Molly and Becks said they had to return to the hotel for a conference call with London and asked Teddy if he’d be all right. He assured them he would.
The knitters all turned to me expectantly. “Well, Lucy? Where should we go for lunch?”
I liked that the group wanted to be together, but if I’d known that would happen, I could’ve booked somewhere. I thought rapidly. There were plenty of good restaurants in Oxford, but we didn’t have all day. “There’s a pub at the top of the road. They’ve got a nice garden out back. There’s quite a range of food.”
We looked at Teddy, who was clearly the star of our show. He said, “Yes. Fabulous idea. All right if Douglas joins us?” When everyone agreed, I ushered them out of the front of the store, hanging back so I could lock the door behind them. Vinod, who
had the same kind of good manners as Rafe, said, “I’ll walk up with you, Lucy.” I imagined he didn’t like the idea of leaving me here alone, in case the murderer came back.
Unless he was the murderer. I gulped but knew that all I had to do was call out and some very protective vampires would be up here before I’d finished the scream.
Instead of attacking me, Vinod browsed the wools while I turned off the lights and retrieved my bag with my keys. When we left, a young woman was hovering to one side of the doorway. I’d never seen her before, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. She came forward when she saw me. Her eyes looked swollen and tear-stained. I hoped she wasn’t looking for help with a knitting disaster. I had plenty of my own.
I was about to tell her we were closed, but then Vinod asked, “Amelia? What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Patel?” She sounded astonished to see him here.
“My dear, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
And then I knew why she looked familiar. She resembled her mother, Enid Selfe.
“I needed to come here, Mr. Patel.” Her eyes filled with tears. She took out an already wet and crumpled tissue and wiped her eyes. “The police told me it happened…it happened here.”
I was filled with compassion. “Oh, you poor dear. I’m so sorry. You’re Enid’s daughter?”
She nodded. “I’ve just been with the police. They told me where it happened but not much else. I just needed to see…”
“Of course.” Vinod stepped forward and took her hands. “Amelia. I’m so very sorry.”
Whoa. He knew Enid’s daughter?
“Thank you.” She sounded stunned. “I’m so happy to see you. I never meant—I never wanted—” She inhaled and exhaled a quick breath and some color returned to her face. “How is Ashvin?”
“He’s fine. He’s fine.”
She shook her head. “Mummy only wanted the best for me. She didn’t mean to be cruel. You know she threatened to take me out of boarding school and bring me home to finish at our local state school. It would’ve ruined my chances of getting into a decent college.”
He nodded, solemnly. “I know. It’s all right.”
She looked from him to me. “I was so angry with her, and now she’s dead.” She began to cry.
Vinod and I looked at each other. Since they obviously knew each other, I said, “Would you come in, too?” She looked like she could use a friend. He nodded, and the three of us went back into the shop, and I turned the lights back on.
I didn’t want to tell this poor young woman anything the police hadn’t already shared. “What have the police told you?”
She looked around as though she might find her mother hiding in the corner. She shook her head. “They didn’t tell us very much. A blow to the back of her head killed her. And it happened in your shop. Of course, they aren’t releasing that information to the public, but I assume you know.”
“I do.” I didn’t tell her that I was the one who had found her mother. And it didn’t seem that she knew about the knitting needles. Or maybe she couldn’t bear to talk about it.
“Your mother was working on a lace cardigan for you. She was so proud of you and your sister. She talked about you a lot.”
Her eyes spilled over again. “That’s nice. I can’t believe it. It just seems impossible that I won’t go home for the weekend and find her there. That she won’t suddenly turn up at school to make sure they’re teaching properly or to argue with them if I don’t get high enough marks.” I handed her a box of tissues, and she blew her nose on a fresh one. “She always thought it was the teacher’s fault if I didn’t do well enough. Never that it might have been mine.”
“It must be so difficult. Do you have someone you can stay with?”
“My sister and I are staying with our stepfather. But it’s not the same. He and Mum were getting a divorce. I’ll go back to school as soon as I can after the funeral. It’s better if I keep busy.”
Vinod said, “You are very brave. When I lost my mother, I was much older than you, but it was still a terrible shock. You must come to the house for dinner. You’d be most welcome.”
She wiped her wet cheeks with her hands. “But what about Ashvin? He probably never wants to see me again.”
“Nonsense. He’s still your friend. We all are.”
“Thank you,” she said, and then her shoulders began to shake. Before I could move, Vinod took her in his arms and patted her shoulder while she cried against his chest. “There, there,” he said soothingly.
I didn’t show Amelia the exact spot where mother had fallen, and she didn’t ask to see it. After the storm of weeping had subsided, I asked, “Would you like to join us for lunch?” I had no idea if that was inappropriate, but I couldn’t send this poor sobbing girl off by herself.
She shook her head. “Thank you, but no. My stepdad and my sister are waiting at the hotel. He thought I was crazy to want to see the spot where she died, but I needed to.”
“Of course you did. I understand.”
She took a couple of fresh tissues and wiped her cheeks and blew her nose again. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
“You must treat my family like your own.”
“Thank you, Mr. Patel. I would love to come for dinner at your house.”
“I will tell Ashvin to phone you, and he will arrange it. Whenever you are ready.”
“Are you sure he’s not angry? She told him I couldn’t see him anymore, and then she got him fired. I’m so ashamed. I should have argued more.”
“Amelia, your mother loved you very much, but she was not easy to stand against. You must not worry. We all understand.”
After she left, I turned out the lights once more. Vinod waited for me to lock up, and then we headed toward the pub to join the others. My mind was whirling with new conjectures. Vinod’s son and Enid Selfe’s daughter?
I said, “What a good thing you knew Amelia. You were so helpful. Poor thing. How terrible to lose her mother like that, and so young.”
He shook his head. “I have no idea how such a dreadful woman managed to raise such a beautiful daughter.” He didn’t say it with anger but merely as though it were a well-known fact. Naturally, I asked the obvious, nosy question. “How do you know Amelia?”
“She is a friend of my son.”
The way he said friend suggested perhaps the relationship was warmer. “Friend? Or girlfriend?”
He chuckled. “Lucy, you ask questions like an American.”
“I am an American.” I looked at him sideways, hoping he found this charming and not irritating. “So?”
“So, my son worked at an Indian restaurant as a busboy. It is near the ladies’ college, and the girls often go there for a meal when they are sick of that institutional food they get. She became friendly with my son, and one thing led to another.”
“That’s nice. It must be very hard to meet boys when you go to an all-girls’ school.”
“My wife and I did not entirely approve of the relationship. Our son must work very hard to get into medical school. We like him to have a job because it’s important to develop a good work ethic. But he didn’t have time for a girlfriend. However, Amelia is a lovely young woman, not silly and flighty like some of those girls. She also takes her future seriously.” He sighed. “We did not know she was keeping this friendship a secret from her parents. Somehow her mother found out. She showed up at the restaurant where my son worked. Made a terrible scene. Humiliated him in public. Said she would have him arrested if he went near her daughter again.”
I could picture the scene, and my whole body was filled with the horror of what it must’ve been like.
He had to take a breath before he could go on. “Fortunately, the people who own the restaurant are old friends, and they know Ashvin. They know he is a good boy. But still, many of the regular patrons heard her. He wasn’t fired, but he left the job. Said he couldn’t go back.” He shook his head. “That woman didn’t know anything a
bout him, and she said such things.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I am so sorry.” Amelia did look like a nice girl. And I could imagine Vinod’s son being like him. Serious and honorable.
“Well, from what Amelia said earlier, she obviously felt terrible but too frightened of her mother to make a stand.”
It was obvious that Vinod thought the world of his son. He might talk about the incident in a calm way, but I doubted he had been calm at the time. In fact, he must have been furious. And then, to come on this knitting show and discover the woman who’d humiliated his beloved son and caused his young heart to be broken was here, boasting about her high hopes for her own beloved daughter—perhaps he snapped.
I was suddenly glad that it was a sunny afternoon and there were plenty of people around.
Chapter 19
During lunch, I tried to work out whether Vinod could be a murderer, then decided that he couldn’t. He just seemed too nice. Then I looked around the rest of the table, but none of them seemed the type. However, I should’ve known by now that there really wasn’t a type of murderer. People were driven to crazy acts. Maybe they’d been crazy all along and hid it well.
I ordered a salad with goat cheese for lunch, though I was barely hungry after William’s breakfast this morning of blueberry pancakes with real Vermont maple syrup that had made me momentarily homesick. William had said, “Lucy, it’s a pleasure to watch you eat.”
“Make a pig of myself, you mean. Please join me. You know Rafe won’t.”
It didn’t take too much persuading to get William to join me for pancakes. As we sat over a second cup of coffee, I asked him why he stayed. “You obviously miss cooking, and you’re so good at it. You should open a restaurant or go into wedding catering or something.”
He shook his head. “I’d never leave Rafe.”
“But why? I’m sure he pays well and he’s, well, amazing, but your talents are wasted here.”
He looked into his coffee. I stayed quiet until at last he spoke. “My family have been serving Rafe for hundreds of years.”