In moments, Berdie emerged from the kitchen holding a tray laden with teapot, cups, spoons, sugar, honey, and cream. When she set the tray down on the central coffee table, it was apparent Lillie was strained.
“Natty wants to know where Miriam is,” Lillie said.
Natty jumped up and filled everyone’s cups with the soothing liquid. “You take two sugars, don’t you, dear?” Natty asked Lillie.
“Yes, I do.” Lillie tilted her head. “But how did you—”
“I poured tea for you at the church lunch on Saint Aidan’s Day. You take two sugars.” Natty smiled.
Berdie and Lillie exchanged a surprised glance.
Lillie leaned toward Berdie and spoke quietly. “She can’t remember where she is half the time, but she can remember how many sugars I take from a tea that happened in August.”
After the hostess was seated, Berdie spoke gently. “Natty, we need to talk about what happened this morning.”
The elder’s eyes flared, and she ran her mittened hands across the neck scarf. The serenity of forgotten events was being threatened.
“You needn’t be frightened, dear. You’re safe as houses. Lillie and I are here with you.” Berdie lifted her teacup and took a sip. “Now, did you start out your morning with a cup of tea?”
“Oh, tea,” she said. Batty Natty brought the teacup to her lips, which was quite a feat with the mittens. She smiled. “Isn’t it nice to have tea with friends?”
“But you took your breakfast tea alone early this morning?” Berdie coaxed.
Natty blew on the brown fluid in her cup.
“Did you take your morning tea at the kitchen table?” Berdie continued. “With that large window, it must be lovely to watch telly and gaze at the neighbor’s back garden.”
“Oh yes.” The hostess grinned. “The sprightly Christmas robins on the fence.” Without warning, the smile faded. Natty’s mittened hand began to tremble so that tea was spilling all over the saucer, all over the mitten.
“Natty?” Berdie watched the ugly hand of fear take hold of this dear soul.
The woman sprang to her feet, splashing the tea all down her robe. The teacup tumbled. It hit the floor and shattered, sending a shower of broken pottery across the rug. “There’s someone in the garden, menacing, menacing.” She put her hands to her cheeks and started for the door.
Lillie released a yip, seemingly caught off guard by the flurry of fright.
Berdie apprehended Natty and put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.
“Where’s Miriam?” The dazed woman’s voice was anxious.
Berdie eased the aging body into the love seat and sat next to her then put her hand on the frail arm of Natty Bell.
“Miriam has gone away,” she said tenderly.
Though calmer, the oldster lifted her eyebrows. The silver spectacles couldn’t cover the questioning look deep in her eyes as a droplet of water from her wet hair dripped down her nose.
“She would have loved to say good-bye, but she didn’t have the opportunity.”
Lillie began gathering the pieces of the broken teacup.
“Where did she go?” Natty asked.
“She has gone to a lovely place,” Berdie reassured her. “It’s very peaceful there and serene, a place where she will find great comfort.”
Batty Natty nodded her head as if in understanding of what Berdie was saying. “The farm in Northumberland, then!” She beamed.
Just as calm and relative sanity had been brought back into its proper place, there was a frantic knock at the door.
“Window!” Natty shouted.
While Berdie kept Natty still, Lillie peeked out the window.
“It’s Cara Graystone. She’s secured Snowdrop at the gate. The poor little white creature looks in need of water,” Lillie announced.
“Dear little Snowdrop.” Natty smiled. “Please see to Cara while I fetch Snowdrop some water.”
The elderly hostess toddled off, and Lillie opened the front door.
Cara was flushed. Her beautiful gray eyes held a sense of panic. “What is going on?” She was trying to catch her breath. Though the air was cold, the collar of her sweat suit was moist with perspiration. “Why is Goodnight at Miss Livingston’s?” she asked, knowing it couldn’t be good news. “He has put up yellow tape and won’t let me in the garden.”
“You were jogging this morning,” Berdie stated rather curtly.
Cara entered the sitting room and shook her honey ponytail. “I turned the far corner and saw the guard’s car. Then I saw Albert at Lavender Cottage. Please, do you know what’s going on?”
Lillie took a chair, and Berdie drew a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to say this...” She paused. “Miriam Livingston is dead.”
“Dead?” Cara eased herself into a nearby chair.
“Lillie and I came to pick her up for the interfaith jumble sale this morning and we found her body. I’m sorry to tell you there was foul play.”
Cara shook her head. “No, no, no.” She buried her beautiful face in her hands. Inside those soft gray eyes a dam burst. Tears fell between her fingers and splashed on the floor. She raised her head and looked at Berdie. “Has the world gone mad?” The loveliest girl in the village, her face skewed in pain, had rivulets running down her face, wetness gathering at her nose. Berdie grabbed a paper napkin from the tea tray and handed it to Cara.
“She was like a mother to me.” The young woman wiped her nose and eyes, both red with grief.
“I know this is so very difficult for you, Cara. It’s difficult for all of us.” Berdie placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You see, we believe Natty may have seen something—the body, the perpetrator, we’re not sure. She’s very fragile right now. We need to put on a good face for the old girl. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Berdie tried to be kind and strong at the same time.
“A good face. Really?” Cara stared hard at Berdie and pushed away the caring hand on her shoulder. Her tears blurred to anger. “What about me? What about the state I’m in? The fool who lives here is daft; she has no real sense of what’s going on. It’s a grace for her.” Cara’s tears spilled out. “How—how can I possibly cope?”
In a whirl, Cara lunged her way to the front door. She opened it and turned toward Berdie. “Encourage and comfort, isn’t that what a vicar’s wife does?” Despair sat squarely on the young woman’s shoulders. “Well done, Mrs. Elliott.” A loud slam of the door was the departing gesture given to two stunned women.
After making sure Natty was in a fair state of mind, Berdie rang up an altar guild member who was available to stay with the oldster the rest of the day.
Berdie and Lillie left Natty’s dwelling and walked toward the Citroën that was still parked near Lavender Cottage. The cottage gate, as well as the door, was crisscrossed with yellow police tape. Goodnight’s car was still in place.
“I know Cara and Miss Livingston worked together, but really, don’t you think Cara’s reaction was a bit dramatic?” Berdie asked her companion.
“Oh, they’re far more than business partners,” Lillie informed.
“How so?”
“The Graystones lived in London when Mrs. Graystone died. Cara was a child. Neither she nor her father adjusted very well to the loss.” The women paused beside the car. “So Preston—Mr. Graystone—moved here hoping village life would be a more suitable environment in which to raise his daughter...start anew and all. Miss Livingston was Cara’s nanny for only a short while. Preston and Miriam fell out over differences in child care or some such thing.”
Berdie intuitively continued the story. “Graystone, overwhelmed with the start-up of his solicitor’s practice here, worked all hours. Despite Miriam getting the sack, the females’ relationship continued on a less formal level. The grandmamma figure became a kind of surrogate mother for the lonely child.”
“More or less.”
“So, for all intents and purposes, Miss Livingston’s death is a déjà vu of Cara losi
ng her own mother.” Berdie pursed her lips. She looked at her shoes. “I didn’t know.”
“Yes.” Lillie nodded. “Although recently it seemed they had grown a bit more distant. They had some kind of a rift.”
The late morning sun was struggling to give snippets of light in between the gray clouds. The friends leaned their backs against the little car and stared at Lavender Cottage.
“Brilliant,” Berdie spoke into the coolness. “I started out for a jumble sale and ended up with a dead congregant, accompanied by a half-baked investigation that will probably be a sore point for my beloved husband.” Berdie took her car keys from her pocket. “Then, I managed to completely disparage another congregant’s suffering, and last but not least, I’ve left another one believing her dead friend is on a farm up north.”
“Having a little moan, are we?” Abruptly Elgar’s “Nimrod” played forth from Lillie’s coat pocket, the mobile rudely interrupting her.
“Hello,” she greeted into the phone. Her eyes widened. “Oh, hello, Ivy.” Lillie shot a glance at Berdie who cringed with forgetfulness. “May you speak to Mrs. Elliott?”
Berdie stepped away, shook her hands, and mouthed the words, not now.
At that moment, a white van pulled up next to the women.
“Is this Lavender Cottage?” a man called out from the half-open window. Coroner was written across the side of the vehicle.
“Indeed,” Berdie called back. It’s a Divine opportunity. “Can I assist you?”
“I’m afraid she’s involved with another concern right now, Ivy.” Lillie’s voice was quite loud. She shook a fist toward Berdie. “No, we didn’t forget you.”
The van parked. Two people emerged, dressed for the occasion in their work smocks. The distinguished man, though smartly dressed, was relaxed and wore the stature of one who has done this business many times before. The younger woman with him, a crime scene investigator, appeared bent on getting to business and moving on.
Berdie met the two on the grass verge.
“Hello.” She introduced herself, “I’m Bernadine Elliott.” She extended her hand.
“I’m Dr. Meredith.” He took Berdie’s hand and shook it firmly. “This is Miss Andras.” He gestured toward the woman who gave a terse smile.
“Excuse me, but did you say your name was Bernadine Elliott?” he asked.
“Yes.” Berdie smiled.
“So you found the place.” Goodnight’s booming voice trumpeted from the gate where he stood.
Berdie was amazed that such a large man was so apt at startling people with his presence.
“You made good time from Timsley,” Goodnight noted.
“Albert.” The doctor acknowledged Goodnight then turned his attention back to Berdie. “You’re the Bernadine Elliott, the one that ran the exposé on MergingTec’s fraudulent scheme several months back?”
“Yes, I am.” Berdie wasn’t sure if the doctor wanted to punch her or esteem her.
“I want to thank you.” Dr. Meredith’s brown eyes were keen.
Berdie breathed easier, but Goodnight leaned forward with a scowl and tapped his fingers on the gate.
“My brother’s life was devastated by MergingTec. They bled him dry. Lost everything. Those thieves strutted about with their yachts and dinner parties. But now, thanks to you, those devils are getting theirs. Ill-gotten gain loses its glamour from the inside of a jail cell.”
“Quite so.” Berdie nodded.
“Justice is being served. They’ll be banged up for life. Well done.”
It was as if a bright holiday gift had just arrived on Berdie’s doorstep. “Thank you, Dr. Meredith.” She beamed with the delight that her success was acknowledged.
“Are you investigating this case?” the man asked.
“No, she’s not,” Goodnight interrupted. He knit his bushy brows. “Not an appropriate duty for a vicar’s wife.”
The doctor stared at Goodnight. “That’s talent gone wanting.” Dr. Loren Meredith wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the large Albert Goodnight.
It was then that Berdie noticed that the coroner’s shining brown hair had a slight frosting of gray at the temples and was pulled back at the nape of his neck into a handsome ponytail.
Dr. Meredith spoke to the large man, “Scotland Yard put their hand to the MergingTec case and all but botched it. It took Mrs. Elliott’s prowess to get it right.” He turned back to Berdie. “A real heroine.”
“Please.” Berdie was blushing. “Call me Berdie.”
Miss Andras glanced at her watch.
“One thing,” Berdie added, “I was the one who found the body. May I take the liberty to suggest you may want to take note of Miss Livingston’s back? I think it could be significant.”
Guard Goodnight lifted the yellow police tape. “Gordon B! The Christmas goose will be on the table by the time you two shut your gobs!”
Miss Andras blithely slipped under the tape and made for the door.
“Go on, Albert. I’ll be there momentarily,” the coroner commanded.
Berdie could just make out the blue language of Goodnight’s mumbles as he walked to the door.
Dr. Meredith pulled out a business card and gave it to Berdie. “I am in your debt. If ever there’s anything I can do for you...”
Berdie knew from the strength of his voice that the gentleman was sincere.
“Thank you.” She hesitated then went on. “And about the victim’s back, Dr. Meredith. Check to see if there are red spots that align with the wax drippings I believe you’ll find under the body.”
The doctor nodded and pulled an unwrapped surgical plastic cap from his pocket. As he did, he froze.
Berdie turned to see what had caught his gaze and espied the lovely Lillie. With a quick tip of his head, he acknowledged her, and she smiled back.
“Oh, this is my friend, Miss Lillie Foxworth,” Berdie quipped. “A bit indisposed at the moment I’m afraid.”
“Yes, well, off to work then.” He took in a last look at the mobile phone-toting Lillie and turned to Berdie. “And I’ll follow through on your suggestion.”
She watched him make his way inside the cottage. Berdie was certain he would be rigorous in his job.
“Yes, I’m sure she’ll ring you.” Lillie looked at Berdie. “At her earliest opportunity.” She switched the mobile off and put it in her pocket. “Did she ever put a flea in my ear.” Lillie looked tired.
“I owe you,” Berdie admitted.
“Hugh’s on his way in the church’s people-carrier to get Ivy and take her to the sale. He’s tried to reach you on your mobile.”
“I shouldn’t doubt it.”
“We’re done with our little moan then?” Lillie smiled.
“It was just a hiccup.” Berdie’s cheer returned. “I must admit, that gracious man with his appreciation couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“And handsome, too.” Lillie tipped her head.
Berdie lifted her brows and grinned. “Interested, are you? He seems to be.”
“Just saying he’s handsome.” Lillie’s smile blossomed into a grin.
Berdie had just gotten seated in the car when a shout sounded from the cottage door. It was Goodnight.
“Oh that man.” Lillie gulped.
Berdie opened the car window.
“You two, in my office, seven this evening, and don’t even think about being late.”
“Where’s your office, the Upland Arms car park?” Berdie couldn’t help herself.
The guard turned, and she closed the window.
“Belayed by his charm,” Lillie said.
Both women let go a quick laugh. They pulled away from the cottage and Berdie felt sure a thorough investigation by the good doctor was underway.
Lillie had three scheduled voice lessons to give in the afternoon, so Berdie dropped her friend at Swallow Gate. Berdie wasn’t keen on going back to the vicarage where she was sure the phone would be ringing incessantly. So she did several errands
. Going to Sainsburys for some food goods and dropping the donated parish bits and bobs in her car boot at the sale, ate up most of her time.
When she got home, it was past six. She finished putting the market goods away. It was only minutes until her husband arrived.
He looked rushed when he entered the kitchen. He was returning his mobile to his pocket. “Goodnight just called; he wants you and Lillie at his office in five minutes.”
“And how’s your day as well?” Berdie’s tone was brusque.
“Sorry, love.” The peck he gave her on the cheek was less than passionate. “I’m driving you both over.” Hugh took a breath. “I know this must be hard on you, Berdie, but just let the officials do their job.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and his blue eyes were steady. “Stay clear.”
Berdie blinked.
Hugh straightened his collar. “Right then, ready to go?”
The jaunt went quickly. The constable’s “office” was a former front bedroom in the family’s row home at the east end of the High Street. The sitting room was a temporary waiting room this evening. Several people who were considered witnesses hung about, while Jonathon Goodnight, the eldest child in the Goodnight family, tried to keep the smaller children in hand. Hugh stepped on a toy truck, and Lillie’s coat was soiled when Daisy, the Goodnight’s spaniel, jumped, paws first, to greet her.
Mrs. Goodnight, car keys in hand, came through the front door bringing several more people with her. “Like gatherin’ up sheep, this,” she greeted whoever would listen.
Among those whom Harriet Goodnight brought as possible witnesses was a very confused and frail Batty Natty Bell. However, the old woman’s demeanor perked up the moment she saw Lillie and Berdie.
Mrs. Goodnight wrapped on the “office” door. “Vicar’s here! And that lot what I rounded up.”
“Send the vicar in and send some drink in with him,” a muffled voice from the other side of the door hollered in return.
“None of the drink while you’re on duty, Albert Goodnight!” The constable’s wife waved Hugh to the room.
It wasn’t but a moment when Hugh reentered the waiting room. “He wants you two as well,” he said to Berdie and Lillie.
“We’re going in that room, Natty.” Berdie pointed to the door. “And we’ll be back out soon.”
Candle for a Corpse Page 4