by Rebecca Tope
Giles Stevenson put in an appearance, his shoulders sagging. ‘Poor old love,’ he sighed. ‘But perhaps it was for the best. I did think, you know…when she banged on my door on Sunday morning. So manic, you see. Not like herself at all…’
Thomas Sewell loitered self-effacingly on the pavement outside the house, until Thea went out to speak to him.
‘Gladys dead? As well as Julian? Well, well, it’s how he would have wanted it.’
Even Icarus Binns, his hair in disarray, flitted back and forth past the front window. Thea went out to speak to him. ‘The Granny lady breathed her last, is that the fact?’
Thea nodded.
‘Ick has been a foolish boy,’ he simpered. ‘Got himself in shit with the trespassing rules. And bad boy Nick mobiled to say no more Box hunting. Whole thing a magical madness, he says.’
‘So he didn’t find anything – the day he dug up all that soil and drove it away in his van?’
Ick shrugged, and Thea pressed him. ‘So why did he do that? Take away the soil?’
‘Keeping the secret,’ Ick hazarded. ‘Not to give house-people the knowing about the digging work. Not so easy to hide.’
Still she couldn’t let it go. ‘He could have just put it back in the hole he’d dug,’ she persisted.
Ick frowned doubtfully, but said nothing. Thea gave him a pitying look. ‘If you ask me, he was going to keep on digging without you, but the accident made him think again. In any case,’ she added, ‘you can be sure there never was a box buried at Upton. The idea is ridiculous.’
Ick eyed her severely. Then his face relaxed and he heaved a sigh. ‘Sad to think of the Granny lady departing this life so sudden.’
‘I know. Anyway – it was good to meet you, and my daughter was thrilled. You were the bright spot in a difficult time.’
‘Pretty policeman girl,’ he sighed. ‘Nice, sensible friend to Ick. Listen for her featuring in some songs, little while from now. And maybe mamma lady can understand more word relations.’
She gave him a grateful smile. ‘Perhaps,’ she nodded.
He reached out with a calloused finger and lightly touched her cheek. ‘Living in a different world, world of pain and serious doing,’ he half-sang. ‘World where Ick can’t manage, with the richness of its badness. Ick’s a spirit can’t breathe the air of worldy shit.’
She laughed at him. ‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘Fly free, then and give my regards to Cleodie.’
He spun away, hair flying, fingers shaping an imaginary revolver shooting himself in the temple.
At last the opportunity came to speak privately to Frances. The police attention thus far had been restricted to the reappearance of Sergeant Tom and Ginger Eddie, who sighed and sympathised, and seemed genuinely sorry about the old woman’s death.
‘I want to make a statement about the killing of Julian Jolly,’ Frances told them formally.
Suppressing his surprise, Tom nodded. ‘I’ll notify the plain clothes people,’ he said. ‘But do you mind if we give them another hour or so? It’s total chaos across the whole region just at the moment, as you can imagine. You were lucky we managed to get here. It’s only because we said we’d put in some overtime.’
Thea cocked an eyebrow at this, knowing that in time of such crisis, all personnel would be required to work extra hours in any case.
But it gave her some time with Frances, for which she was grateful.
‘I know I have no right to ask – but do you mind just telling me a bit more of the story?’ she pleaded.
Unemotionally, Frances gave the bare facts that Julian was her father. She had been born to Gladys Gardner in the early nineteen-sixties, when her mother was forty-seven and Julian in his early thirties. ‘She bewitched him, according to the story, with her wicked past and sense of mischief. He was always a bit dry. And he was a useless father to me. I didn’t even know about him until I was twenty-five.’
Thea murmured encouragement, eager to know more.
Julian had, it seemed, been prevented from openly acknowledging his daughter by his outraged wife. All his paternal attentions were devoted to his son Malcolm, father of Nick. Although they never lived together, Frances’s parents remained close, and by the time she was twelve, they were actually working in harness, while maintaining the secret of Frances’s parentage. Hilda, Julian’s wife, pretended to be unaware of the continuing relationship, sliding slowly into ill health and self-obsession.
‘But why kill him?’ Thea demanded. ‘What did he do to deserve that?’
‘Money, mainly,’ came the calm reply. ‘He told Yvette, quite casually last month, that he was changing his will and leaving everything to Nick. She wasted no time in gloating to me about it, I can tell you. Said I didn’t deserve a penny, anyhow, the way I never came to see Mum. So I did come to see her, the moment my damned sister was out of the way. I didn’t realise, you know, how much I hated him, until the moment was upon me. But he knew. He barely struggled after the first surprise in the living room.’ Her eyes remained fixed on a patch of late sunlight slanting through the window. ‘You know – I think he was worried about upsetting my mum by putting up any resistance. I think he loved her that much.’
‘So – I mean, did she know what she was doing?’ Thea was still having serious difficulty in imagining the scene.
Frances frowned helplessly. ‘I don’t know whether she did, right at the end. But when I turned up, it was as if she’d already known I was coming, and had everything planned. She was fantastic with the buzzer and the door keys and all that. Mind you, she was always very sharp about locks and that sort of thing. I used to tease her that it was because of her time in prison.’
‘But did she want Julian dead?’ Thea was still lost.
‘She thought it was what he wanted – and I think she might have been right there. He was ill and felt that most of his work had been a waste of time. And he missed his stupid wife more than Mum or I liked to admit.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ argued Thea. ‘I just can’t.’
‘Because you can’t see beyond the sweet old lady, all pink and smiling and innocent,’ Frances accused. ‘She was never like that in the least. She was forgetful and confused at times, but she was always the same person. The woman who stabbed that doctor, who never flinched from getting her hands dirty or telling people the stark truth about themselves.’
‘Yes,’ said Thea slowly. ‘I had started to realise that.’
Frances met her eyes. ‘You knew she’d killed him?’
‘My daughter was fairly convinced. But did she? I mean – which of you…?’
Frances seemed to shrink slightly, as if the full import of her situation was beginning to dawn on her. ‘Nobody will believe me, will they? And it doesn’t much matter anyway. I’ve burnt all my bridges by coming back here so soon. But, for the record, since you seem to care so much – it was Mum. I held him down, and she did it. Then I dragged him into the kitchen, so nobody could see him from the street.’
‘And the plan was to let her take the blame. To let you go scot free. So why come back today and blow it? She died knowing you’d ruined the whole plan.’ Thea was accusing.
Frances sighed.
‘I couldn’t go through with it – couldn’t see her in some ghastly prison. Somehow I thought they’d never really charge her. But Nick said – well, he persuaded me they would.’
‘But you hadn’t said anything before she died,’ Thea remembered. ‘You could just have kept quiet. You’d already told me to mind my own business. What changed?’
Frances wiped away a tear. ‘The flowers,’ she said. ‘I saw the Mother’s Day flowers on the table, with the card saying they were from me. I don’t know who gave them to her, but it certainly wasn’t me. It would never have crossed my mind.’
‘So?’ Thea was still painfully lost in the convolutions of the other woman’s life.
‘So, even though it was far too late to matter, I decided to be a decent daughter for once in m
y life, and face up to what I’ve done.’
‘Oh.’ Thea paused. ‘But you got the money anyway. Julian hadn’t changed his will. Wasn’t it all for nothing?’
Frances gave an unbearable smile. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘But who’s to say he wouldn’t have got around to it in another day or two?’
‘You won’t be allowed to keep it now. Will you?’
‘I won’t be wanting it where I’m going. Will I?’ said Frances.
If you enjoyed this, you might like to read more in the Thea Osborne Cotswold series.
Read on to find out more …
A COTSWOLD KILLING
Duntisbourne Abbots is a quintessentially English village nestled in the stunning Cotswold hills. Recently widowed Thea Osbourne fears three weeks of house-sitting there may prove a little dull, but her first night’s sleep at Brook View is broken by a piercing scream… When a body turns up, Thea knows she shouldn’t get involved, but in questioning neighbours she uncovers more tragedy and intrigue than she thought possible.
A COTSWOLD ORDEAL
Thea Osborne and her spaniel Hepzibah embark on their second house-sitting commission with few worries. Despite her first disastrous venture, Thea is convinced that lightning will not strike twice, and arrives at idyllic Frampton Mansell with renewed enthusiasm. However, it seems she is jinxed: within days of her arrival she finds a body hanging from the rafters of one of the barns. But was it suicide…or murder?
DEATH IN THE COTSWOLDS
Thea Osborne’s relationship with DI Phil Hollis is going from strength to strength. The couple retreat to a cottage in Cold Aston, where they look forward to some peace and quiet. Preparations for Samhain, the pagan origin of Halloween, are well underway when a very tangible reminder of the season of death is discovered: a body laid out like a sacrificial victim on Notgrove Barrow. It soon becomes apparent that the cosy village has more than its share of secrets. But just how far will some go to keep them hidden?
BLOOD IN THE COTSWOLDS
Thea Osborne has taken on another house-sitting assignment, this time in the quiet village of Temple Guiting. Detective Superintendent Phil Hollis is looking forward to visiting, but a bad back soon puts an end to their romantic weekend. A few days into their stay, human bones are discovered in the base of an uprooted tree. With no evidence as to the identity of the body, wild theories and rumours abound. Thea and Phil find there is a strong connection to the Knights Templar in the village, but could that have any bearing on the case?
SLAUGHTER IN THE COTSWOLDS
Thea Osbourne has just lost her beloved father and retreats to her next housesitting assignment in Lower Slaughter, hoping to find the peace and quiet needed to deal with her grief.
When Thea’s bossy elder sister turns up on her doorstep after witnessing a horrific killing, the rural serenity descends into a web of mutual suspicions, accusations and confrontations.
As usual, investigating a murder while being a responsible housesitter proves to be no easy task, especially when you’ve got a dog-killer and a temperamental parrot on your hands…
FEAR IN THE COTSWOLDS
Following a string of disastrous house-sitting assignments, Thea Osborne is understandably apprehensive about her latest commission: a wintery month in an isolated farmhouse in the beautiful hamlet of Hampnett, with only an assortment of animals, including her loyal spaniel Hepzie, for company.
When Thea stumbles across a man lying dead in a snow-filled field, she is once again at the heart of a mystery in the gorgeous Cotswold countryside.
A GRAVE IN THE COTSWOLDS
When Drew Slocombe, the local undertaker at Broad Campden, is accused of murder, Thea Osborne becomes his unlikely friend and defender.
As they come to know more about the inhabitants of Broad Campden, Drew and Thea begin to unearth the secrets, conflicts and tensions that simmer below the surface of village life, together playing amateur detective to find the killer, and to clear Drew’s name.
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About the Author
REBECCA TOPE lives on a smallholding in Herefordshire, with a full complement of livestock, but manages to travel the world and enjoy civilisation from time to time as well. Most of her varied experiences and activities find their way into her books, sooner or later. Her own cocker spaniel, Beulah, is the model for Hepzibah, but is unfortunately ageing much more rapidly.
www.rebeccatope.com
By Rebecca Tope
A Cotswold Killing
A Cotswold Ordeal
Death in the Cotswolds
A Cotswold Mystery
Blood in the Cotswolds
Slaughter in the Cotswolds
Fear in the Cotswolds
A Grave in the Cotswolds
Deception in the Cotswolds
Grave Concerns
The Sting of Death
A Market for Murder
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
13 Charlotte Mews
London W1T 4EJ
www.allisonandbusby.com
Copyright © 2007 by REBECCA TOPE
First published in hardback by Allison & Busby Ltd in 2007.
Published in paperback by Allison & Busby Ltd in 2008.
This ebook edition first published in 2010.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–0982–3