Pumpkins, Paws and Murder (A Dickens & Christie mystery Book 2)

by Kathy Manos Penn

  Max had a wicked laugh. “Unreasonable, my arse. She walked out on me. That’s unreasonable.”

  Good grief, verbally abusive and not the brightest bulb in the pack. “Come on, Trixie, he’s not listening,” I said.

  Before I could usher Trixie back to the crowd, Max grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Listen here, you cow, I’m your husband. You don’t walk away from me.”

  Trixie tried to jerk away, but Max tightened his grip. With her other hand, she hauled off and smacked him across the face.

  Stunned, he let go. “You’ll pay for that. You wait.”

  This time it was me who grabbed her. She was sobbing, and Dickens was growling.

  When Beatrix caught sight of us, she came dashing out from the booth. “What now? Did he hurt you?”

  Trixie gasped and sobbed. “Aunt Beatrix, I can’t believe it. Max thinks I’ll go back to him. He has no intention of signing the divorce papers.”

  Sparkle must have overheard Trixie. “Max? Divorce papers? You’re . . . you’re his ex-wife?”

  “I wish it was ex. He told me he’d sign the papers, and I’ve been waiting nearly six months for him to do it. If he doesn’t sign by the deadline, I’ll have to wait even longer.”

  Sparkle looked shocked. “He told me he was already divorced, the filthy liar. As though I’d have anything to do with a married man.”

  “What?” yelped Trixie. “You know Max? How?”

  It turned out Sparkle had known Max longer than Trixie had. She explained they’d been in school together in Totnes, and they’d only recently reconnected and started dating.

  The girls were sharing their stories when Barb hurried up. “Hi ladies. I’m here for my appointment, and I don’t have long. Got to get back to work.”

  Sparkle looked flustered. “Um, yes, you’re Barb, right? If you’ll have a seat and look at the color options, I’ll be right with you.”

  Barb seemed to pick up on the atmosphere. “Um, is there something going on? I’d say I’d come back later, but this is the only time I have off today.”

  “No, no,” said Sparkle. “I can do your hair. Trixie and I’ve just had a bit of a shock.”

  As Barb unloosed her ponytail and chose the colors for her long blonde hair, Sparkle elaborated about Max. What a mess, I thought—an estranged wife and an erstwhile girlfriend stumbling across each other at the Fête.

  That seemed like drama aplenty until Barb interjected, “Max? That plonker? You girls know him too?”

  He sure gets around, I thought. I wondered how Barb knew him and then recalled the encounter I’d seen this morning. Sounded as though Max’s ears would be burning all afternoon at this rate. Who knew? Maybe Trixie, Sparkle, and Barb would be comrades in arms before the day was done. I would have loved to have heard the rest of the story, but I had to get back to my group. Beatrix gave Trixie a hug and then accompanied me to the Scarecrow Garden.

  In the distance, I saw Max entertaining the crowd. The children were bouncing up and down in glee as he pulled a chain of red scarves from his top hat. It was as though he’d thrown a switch and turned his charming side back on.

  Gavin and Toby were discussing the entries for the contest, and I didn’t envy them the job of deciding on the winner. The designs were creative and included a doctor, a nurse, a chef, a handyman, a constable, and Raggedy Ann and Andy in addition to the librarian and Humpty Dumpty. After the judging, they’d be auctioned off to raise even more money for Breast Cancer Now.

  Beatrix, Libby, and I weighed in with our votes. “No matter who you chose as the winner, Gavin,” said Libby, “we’ve got to have Raggedy Ann and Andy for the inn.”

  Beatrix looked longingly at the librarian with her wire-rimmed glasses and armful of books. “I wonder if there’s a way I could prop her up in the bookshop?” she said.

  “Well, if you don’t bid on her, I might want her for my garden,” I chimed in. “I have fond memories of all the librarians who recommended books to me when I was a child, and in Atlanta, I loved putting library books on hold online and getting the emails that said, ‘come get me’ when they came available.”

  We three continued our banter, and before Beatrix left, I reminded her we were all meeting at the Ploughman when the Fête was over. We suspected the pub patrons would stand us a few rounds of drinks when they got a load of our costumes. Dickens would have his pick of dog beds, and I was sure he’d be tuckered out by then. My boy was having a ball.

  By the time the festivities ended and the crowd began to disperse, Dickens wasn’t the only one worn out. Still, we all pitched in to help take down booths and pick up trash. Libby had labeled a box “Lost and Found,” and we filled it with toys, stuffed animals, and even a scarf someone had dropped.

  When Rhiannon and Wendy saw the fairy hair Belle and I were sporting, they wanted in on the act, so Sparkle and Summer stayed late to squeeze them in. Rhiannon chose silver and gold for her long wavy blonde locks, and Sparkle suggested rainbow strands for Wendy. Jill and Jenny got in on the act with pumpkin and shiny bronze.

  It seemed Trixie and Sparkle had bonded over their woes with Max, so I invited them both to join us at the Ploughman, and Summer tagged along. Though we all could have walked the path to the pub, some of us piled into cars and drove. Cheers went up whenever one of us entered, and sure enough, rounds of drinks ensued.

  When the whole gang was gathered around our table, we congratulated ourselves on the money we’d raised. Libby was debating where to put her Raggedy Ann and Andy scarecrows, and Beatrix was crowing over winning the librarian. She’d enlisted Toby via cell phone to ensure she had the winning bid. Sparkle, Summer, and Trixie were standing at the bar chatting with Barb, and Dickens was passed out on a dog bed in the corner.

  When Max walked in the door sporting his black coat, cane, and top hat, Beatrix nudged me. I wondered which side of Max the Magnificent we’d see. He walked straight to the bar and pushed in between Sparkle and Trixie. We couldn’t hear what he said, but it must have been offensive because Barb snarled at him and Phil the bartender reached across the bar and jerked him up by the collar.

  Max backed away from the bar, turned, and bellowed, “You lot want to drink here with these losers, go ahead. I’m outta here.”

  The crowd of regulars was stunned into silence, and a few of the men got to their feet, but Max made his way to the door before anyone could get physical. We were a close-knit village, so he was wise to leave before someone took action. He was sure to come out on the losing end of an altercation.

  Barb high-fived Phil and Sparkle and Trixie grinned and turned back to the bar. Before we turned to more pleasant topics, Beatrix brought our friends up to speed on the saga of Max, Trixie, and Sparkle. I provided details about him grabbing Trixie and threatening her at the waterwheel.

  Gemma went into full-on Detective Sergeant mode. “Beatrix, if that git gives Trixie any trouble, you call me right away. Men like Max tend to escalate, and she could be in danger. She may want to consider a restraining order.”

  Funny, I’d been thinking the same thing since I’d witnessed his behavior with Trixie. Hopefully, he’d return to Totnes the next day and be out of our hair.

  After another round of drinks and a hearty dinner, our group began to break up. It wasn’t easy to rouse Dickens, but he eventually stood up and stayed awake long enough for me to get him to the car.

  We dropped Rhiannon and Wendy back by the inn to get their cars and were home in no time. On the way, I spied a lone cyclist pedaling toward the village but couldn’t make out who it was in the dark.

  I felt exhausted after being on my feet all day and slept like a log that night. Only, of course, after I fed my demanding black cat, and Dickens and I filled her in on the day’s activities. When I fell into bed, Christie snuggled against my back and Dickens stretched out in his dog bed.

  Sunday morning, I was pouring my second cup of coffee and humming “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” when my phone rang. I was surprised to see
Gemma’s name pop up on the screen.

  She got straight to business. “You’d better get over here. Mum just found Max the Magnificent dead by the river.”

  “What?”

  “I know. It’s unbelievable. Mum brought me a basket of scones and fruit like she does most mornings. When she went ’round to my patio to pop in the back door to the kitchen, she glimpsed the body between my cottage and the waterwheel.”

  Gemma lived downriver from the mill in a small building the Taylors had turned into a guest cottage. This would make two dead bodies she’d dealt with in less than a month.

  “You want me to take care of your mum, right?”

  “To start with, yes. And then I’d like to know what you saw and heard yesterday at the Fête.”

  “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  Christie and Dickens looked at me expectantly. I knew they’d heard both sides of the conversation. “You’re taking Dickens, aren’t you? And leaving me behind again,” complained Christie.

  “First, it’s damp and drizzly, not a good day for kitties to be outside. Second, you’ve never been beyond the garden, and we’re not going to start today,” I replied. I’d been considering getting a backpack for her to ride in so she could accompany me and Dickens on our walks, but that wasn’t yet a fully formed idea.

  “Leta, I got a bad vibe from that Max guy,” barked Dickens. “I didn’t hear Gemma say what happened to him, but I bet someone threw him in the river.”

  “I’m as eager as you are to find out what happened over there, and you’re going with me, Detective Dickens. While I’m tending to Libby, you can sniff around for clues, and you can also check with Paddington to see what he knows. Christie, I’ll try to take some pictures to show you when we get back, though I’ll have to be sneaky about it. I doubt Gemma would approve.”

  Constable James blocked my way when I pulled up until he recognized me. “If it isn’t Miss Marple again. I know, bad joke. Gemma told me she called you,” he said. “And you’ve brought that little hero dog too.”

  “What’s with these people?” huffed Dickens. “I’m not little, I’m not tiny, I’m just the right size.”

  I laughed at him despite the serious nature of our visit. “Simmer down, boy. I could be just as offended at being called Miss Marple. Seriously, I don’t look that old.”

  As I unlatched Dickens, I stood for a moment and took in the view of the colorful trees on the river. The beech trees were cloaked in russet-brown and the chestnut trees in a mix of orange and gold. I wanted to soak in the peaceful scene before it was marred by the presence of a dead body.

  Dickens went off to find Paddington, and I found Libby in the sitting room in front of the fireplace, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She looked at me tearfully and told me Gavin was busy with the guests checking out after the weekend. Most had come for the Fête and were on their way back to London or Heathrow. “I can’t believe I found a dead body,” she moaned. “And you know exactly how I feel, don’t you?”

  “Unfortunately, I do. Thank goodness it’s not someone you really knew, much less liked. Do you want to talk about it? Or has Gemma asked you enough questions for now?”

  “Yesterday was such a success. We took in lots of money for Breast Cancer Now, and you could tell everyone had fun. I can’t believe someone died, even it was that nasty Max person. Why did that have to happen?”

  I nodded as she sipped her tea. I knew once she started, she wouldn’t need much encouragement.

  “I was doing what I do most mornings, taking a light meal to Gemma. On the days she hasn’t already left for work, she likes a scone and fruit after her run. Other days, I put it all in the fridge so she can have it as a light dinner.

  “I went in the kitchen door and put the basket on the counter. Left to walk back to the inn. That’s when I caught a glimpse of red. There were apples in the shallow part of the river, if you can believe it, but when I moved closer, I saw it was more than that. Several apples in the river, several on the bank, and a man.”

  “Was he in the river?” I asked.

  “No, he was on his back very close to the edge.”

  I was getting a bad feeling.

  “Somehow I knew he was dead. Maybe it was his color. It was a ghastly sight. I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen in place. Long enough to notice an apple core on the ground and one rosy red apple in his mouth.

  “And, you won’t believe the image that popped into my head? I may never again see a picture of a roast pig on a holiday table without thinking of what I saw this morning.”

  “Are you serious? An apple in his mouth?”

  “Yes. Gruesome.”

  Gavin came in and stoked the fire. “Thanks for coming, Leta. Most of the guests have checked out now, and Jill’s started on the rooms, so I can sit awhile.”

  I told Gavin I was going to find Gemma but would be back to relieve him. I knew he had a mile-long list of chores to accomplish before the next group of guests arrived and couldn’t relax for long.

  I called Dickens, and he came bounding down the stairs, followed by Paddington. We all trooped through the garden to the river. Gemma was greeting the Scene of Crime Officers who’d just arrived. Guess there was no doubt this was a suspicious death and she’d called them in right away.

  She motioned me over. “Careful where you step, Leta, and watch Dickens. I saw his apple-bobbing attempts yesterday, and I don’t want him anywhere near the river or the body.”

  Paddington took the hint and climbed a nearby tree, while I positioned Dickens by the waterwheel and told him to stay. As was common with Great Pyrenees dogs, he often had a mind of his own, but stay was a command he mostly obeyed. Come? Not so much.

  I approached cautiously and studied the scene. “Do you ever get used to this, Gemma?”

  “No, and word is if you do, you’re not long for the job,” she replied. “I’m just glad it’s not someone I know. I saw him yesterday performing his magic tricks, and I witnessed the scene at the pub, but at least he’s not a friend. You interacted with him more than I did, so I’d appreciate your perspective. Is he dressed the same? You know, details like that.”

  “Give me a minute. I’m having a hard time getting beyond the apple in his mouth. That’s an image I won’t soon forget.” I swallowed. “Okay, down to business. Still has on the black coat with the tails. And he’s still wearing his jaunty red scarf. I don’t see his top hat. Didn’t he have it on last night at the pub?”

  “Yes, he did. And he had a cane too, didn’t he?”

  I studied the scene. “He did, but I don’t see it. What’s that bottle say? Highland Black? What’s that?”

  Gemma knelt down. “Ah, not a whiskey drinker, are you? It’s a decent cheap whiskey. You can find it at Aldi. As close as the bottle is to the body, I’m betting Max carried it over here. Looks like he was drinking and eating apples from the river. They seem to have been caught by that branch near the bank, but how on earth did half a dozen apples get in the river in the first place?”

  “Dickens may have been the cause of that,” I said. “After he went apple bobbing, they had to start fresh. Probably emptied the dirty water and the apples into the river before refilling the bucket. Couldn’t have folks bobbing in water Dickens had been diving in. Nor chance anyone chomping into an apple he’d played with,” I said.

  She glanced over at Dickens. “Always in the middle of everything, your boy, but he’s being awfully good now. Let’s give the SOCOs some space and then come back.”

  I called Dickens, and we three moved to Gemma’s patio, where we could watch without getting in the way. “You know, this is really going to play hell with my enjoyment of the river view. Not sure I’ll ever sit here again without seeing an image of Max the Magnificent with the waterwheel in the distance,” she said.

  “Not a happy thought. I’m assuming you think this is murder?”

  “That would be my first guess, but I honestly don’t know. It’s why I called in the SOCOs.
He pretty much looked the picture of health yesterday, so what happened? If we’d found him in the river, I might think he’d drowned. Instead, he’s soaking wet only from the waist up. Could’ve leaned over the bank here in the shallow part to splash his face, I guess. And hauled himself up and passed out.

  “I might think he’d choked on a bit of apple or a swallow of whiskey, but he sure didn’t stick an apple in his mouth after he did that. Way too many things to look at it here. The medical examiner will have to make a final determination.”

  It sank in that I’d now seen two dead bodies in a month. I’d never thought of Astonbury as the murder capital of the Cotswolds. Never considered this charming village a dangerous place to live.

  I shook myself and turned to Gemma. “As long as we’re waiting, do you want to hear my memories of Saturday?”

  “Yes, I’ve learned you’re exceptionally observant. Just don’t get any ideas about messing with my crime scene,” she warned.

  Gemma was referring to my unfortunate involvement with another violent death. Wendy, Belle, Dickens, and I had rushed to the victim’s home to rescue her cat. Except we didn’t only find the cat. We also found what I guess the experts call a secondary crime scene. I wasn’t sure Gemma was ever going to let me forget that.

  I started with my initial encounter with Max on Friday when I’d learned he knew Sparkle. “By now, I bet Trixie knows more about that relationship than I do. I couldn’t tell then whether they were boyfriend and girlfriend or just friends. It wasn’t until Saturday I learned they were dating.” I shook my head at the thought. “Anyway, Max told her he was staying in the caravan park in Bourton-on-the-Water and invited her to meet him for dinner.”

  Gemma was taking notes. “And what about Saturday?”

  “There’s more to Friday, first. I was standing by the Scarecrow Garden when he walked up and spoke to Barb. I think they were both surprised to see each other. From there, the rest of what I saw picks up when Trixie and I met him at the waterwheel,” I explained.