Paying Back The Dead (A Millerfield Village Cozy Murder Mysteries Series 3)

by Carrie Marsh

  The patronising way in which he said that made Laura feel as if her hair was catching fire. She felt herself trembling, though it was with undiluted anger. She was genuinely frightened she might slap the man. How dare he?

  Laura had forgotten she was not alone in the hallway, at least until she felt a solid presence at her side. Cousin Judy.

  “I have no idea what you're on about,” Judy said calmly, stepping forward to face the policeman. “But I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head in my hallway, officer.” She glared up at him stone-faced, as if willing him to argue with her. Laura suddenly remembered Judy was a schoolteacher – she could still stop anyone in their tracks with that crisply-commanding voice. Laura looked up at the officer to see what he might do.

  The man swallowed hard and, though he looked furious, he did not say anything in reply. His jaw worked and he went an uncomfortable shade of red. Laura turned to her cousin. She wanted to kiss her, she was so happy. She wanted to laugh. The expression on the man's face was priceless.

  “I'll begin in the sitting-room,” he mumbled. He did not look at either woman as he walked past, gesturing to his fellow-policemen to follow him over the threshold.

  When the men had entered the sitting-room, Laura and Judy went into the kitchen. They looked at each other. Laura burst out laughing.

  “Thank you, Judy,” she said, hugging her.

  “Don't mention it.” She hugged Laura back and then held her at arm's length, looking at her. “Why does he hate you?”

  Laura bit her lip. “I don't know. I guess it's because of my friend and I being at the police-station sometimes? He's Doctor Lucas, and I met him there and...” Laura's voice trailed off. She didn't want Judy to know she was investigating the case, even informally, in case it made her suspicious of her.

  “Some people,” Judy said briskly, dismissing the man outright. “They're just born sour.”

  Laura laughed. “Thank you, Judy. I needed to hear that.”

  “Good.” She turned to the stove. “Now. Would you like some tea? Since we have to sit here we might as well have a proper party!”

  Laura laughed, watching as Judy collected cups and plates and a cake out of the refrigerator. “I can think of few people who could turn an investigation into a party.”

  “Well, you need two people to have a party,” Judy countered, and Laura smiled, genuinely touched. She carried a tray of tea, the chocolate cake resplendent on a cake-stand, to the table. Judy settled in her chair and turned to Laura. “You said you had a friend in the force?” she asked, meaning the police-force.

  “No, not exactly,” Laura countered. “He's...a doctor. You know Doctor Lucas?”

  “Yes!” Judy beamed. “He's a great man. Wonderful doctor. Thoughtful person.”

  Laura felt as if the praise of Howard made her even prouder of him. She beamed. “Yes, he is.”

  “Well, since he is with the force, sort of – at least they trust him, like – could he...” Judy paused. “Could he, and you too, if you would, search my house instead of these blighters?”

  “I don't know if that would be allowed, Judy,” Laura said gently. “I mean, we would need a warrant, and I don't think doctors can get one. I'll ask, but I don't think our searching would make any difference to the police.”

  “True,” Judy bit her lip.

  The kettle boiled and Laura and Judy made tea, then sat, drinking it and talking about their memories of Laura's family, their holidays, her home in Cambridge.

  As they talked and enjoyed the home-made cake, Laura could sense eyes on her. Policemen drifted past now and again on their way through to other rooms: it was their stares that made Laura feel constantly watched. I hate that feeling. She suddenly recalled the day in the police-station, when the young officer Stanton had made his elaborate Post-it note ruse to give her information. She had the same feeling then. What if Inspector Browne saw it? That would explain his rudeness, certainly...

  “What is it?” Judy asked, covering her hand with her own where it lay on the table. “You look like you saw a ghost!”

  “Oh, sorry,” Laura said comfortingly. “I didn't mean to look worried – I just remembered something from work,” she lied.

  “Oh! I'm sorry to hear that...” she sympathized. “I'm so glad to be working less now – I do two days a week at the village school, and that's my lot.”

  “Really?” Laura asked, lifting a teacup to drink. Privately, she wondered how that was working – if Mr. Hugh had been refusing to pay his son's college fees, then how was Judy planning to support him, when working two days a week at the school? No wonder she was worried...Laura bit her lip. She would not even think about blaming Judy! The woman was kind.

  “Yes. I'm not sorry to be out of it...kids that age are difficult little things...” she grinned and drained her tea.

  Laura smiled. “I'm not sorry not to have any myself. At least not for a while yet. But your children are both in Manchester now?”

  “No,” Judy explained, standing to cross the modern, white-painted kitchen to make more tea for them both. “Andrew is in Manchester, and Kim is working in London. She's here at the moment, though – lucky me!” she smiled. “She went through to Drayton today to find out about prospects there.”

  “Prospects?”

  “I want to move house, lass,” Judy said gently. “I can't bear it here anymore. Too many memories.” She sighed and sat down heavily in her chair, suddenly looking much older than her sixty-something years.

  “I understand,” Laura said gently. She did. The thought of living in a place in which your husband had been murdered in cold blood was terrible. “I hope you find something soon,” she added.

  “So do I, lass,” Judy smiled. “Though it's a sad shame I only met you now and now I'm moving!”

  Laura felt touched. “You'll be in Drayton.” It was only a few miles.

  Judy nodded. “I hope so. And besides – it's just me now. I don't need this place all to myself,” she chuckled, waving her hand about the airy, modern house.

  Laura looked about, noticing not for the first time how fashionable and elegant it was. For all that Mr. Hugh had seemed a miserable sort of person, he was clearly very wealthy. Everything was the latest and the house had an open-plan, up-to-the-moment interior that spoke of wealth.

  “I suppose so,” Laura observed, pouring tea.

  “It's hell to clean, lass! Even with a char coming in once a week – I like to keep it neat and tidy, and with two or three rooms you never go into, it's a lot harder.”

  “You obviously keep high standards of neatness.”

  Judy beamed. “I do like it to be spic and span! It's such a hard job getting it like that when you have children, though...” she shook her head, clearly thinking back to when her children were small.

  “I can imagine,” Laura said. “They must be close in age?”

  “Two years apart! It was hell, I tell you...” Judy sighed.

  As she and Laura sat and reminisced, a policeman appeared.

  “We need to do this room, if you please?” It was not Inspector Browne, but his colleague, who seemed to Laura to have much better manners.

  “Well,” Judy said evenly, “I hope you can work around us, because we're not moving anywhere.”

  The man looked worried. He turned to his senior colleague, who had just appeared in the doorway behind him. Inspector Browne simply nodded.

  “We'll start here, lads.”

  Laura couldn't help but notice that the man avoided Judy's eye. Being embarrassed by her in front of his junior officers was clearly too much for him, and he wanted to avoid her repeating his humiliation.

  “Where were we?” Judy asked, turning to Laura as if the kitchen were not full of policemen. “Oh, yes! We were talking about when Kim was doing ballet lessons, and...”

  Laura shifted attention from the stories and to the three men in the room. They were searching the drawers and riffling through cupboards and even looking behind the c
urtains. It was not so much their efficiency which surprised her, but their total obliviousness to the two women in the room.

  Actually, not so oblivious. A man was watching her. One of the officers – the only one who had said nothing throughout the visit – was standing in the corner, ostensibly searching through the pantry-cupboard before him. But his eyes had not left Laura. She felt the same hair-on-end feeling that she had in the station, that day when Stanton had contrived to give her the Post-it note. She looked up into his eyes. He did not look away. His expression was neutral, jaw set firm. Something about the look in his eyes made Laura feel suddenly scared.

  Maybe it wasn't Inspector Browne watching. Maybe it was this man.

  In which case, why was he glaring at her so hatefully? If he didn't approve, he should have just said so. He could have had Stanton demoted, if he could prove it. Why does he seemingly hate me?

  Nothing about that made sense. He carried on staring at Laura a long moment, and then turned back to his task at the pantry.

  During the last stages of the search Laura could feel his eye on her, and, though she tried to distract herself and listen to Judy talk about her family, in reality she could not forget.

  Finally, the police finished their search of the cupboards and the polite one asked Judy and Laura to leave so they could search under the table and in the drawers. Judy took her time, but went to stand in the hallway with Laura while they completed the search.

  “Arrogant sods,” she whispered to her. Laura bit her cheek to stop herself from grinning.

  Even so, the image of the watchful eyes on her did not leave her, nor the intensity of the hate she read from his expression. It was deeply disturbing.

  She said farewell to Judy and left, promising they would see each other again soon. She walked down to her car and got in, feeling deeply unsettled. She had a lot to think about – the whole situation of Judy, her financial state and her son's education would take a lot of thought all on their own. And then there was the disturbing policeman with his watchful gaze. Shuddering, Laura stepped on the clutch and worked her way slowly across town to her home.

  She was very pleased to get there.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  VITAL CLUE

  VITAL CLUE

  Laura sat on the chair, feeling drowsy and warm as she listened to Howard talking. It was late at night, and she held a cup of coffee between her hands, trying to stay awake. All she wanted to do was surrender to her weariness and the surprising bliss of having Howard here again.

  Laura sat on the settee, with Howard opposite her on the armchair. Monty was asleep in the other chair, his feet tucked up under his body. He looked solid and content. Laura was so glad to see him well again – losing him, even the possibility of losing him – was too terrible to consider.

  “...and so the whole investigation is held back for the moment...” Howard said quietly.

  Laura blinked. “Sorry, sweetheart – miles away. Could you repeat that?” Calling him sweetheart was the most delicious sensation and Laura savored it, noting his sudden smile.

  “No worries, dear,” he said, replying in kind. The endearment flowed over Laura's ears like custard over pie – warm and lovely. “I was just saying that we can't find the weapon,” he added.

  “Oh.” Laura thought about that. She was extremely glad nothing had turned up at Judy's, but at the same time it was a problem. If they don't find something, they'll probably still be blaming her. “But how do they know what they're looking for?”

  “Well,” Howard smiled. “We don't. Not really. It's about a tenth of an inch thick, and probably fifteen inches in length – maybe less. It could be a really thin knitting-needle, a wire, a long-enough nail – though why anyone would need a nail that long I can't imagine.” He gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. He looked exhausted.

  Laura thought about that. “So that gives you a lot of scope. I'm surprised the police haven't turned up all sorts of things – almost everyone has something like that in their house. You could probably even find one here! I mean, I have knitting-needles, bits of wire...” she sighed.

  Howard chuckled. “Are you saying there's a reason to look? I had no idea you had such a grudge against bureaucrats!”

  Laura laughed. “I promise, Howard, it wasn't me. I may have been tempted to stab taxmen sometimes, but premeditated murder's a bit excessive.”

  He caught her eye and they shared a smile. Laura wished she could take him into her bed right then, but she knew him: he was in the middle of thinking about a problem and he wasn't likely to get distracted now. Not like her – she was distracted enough already.

  In the small sitting room, it was warm and pleasantly peaceful. Laura wished she never had to move. She sat thinking about the problem and enjoying the silent companionship.

  Opposite her Howard looked up at the ceiling and lifted his cup, musing. “I suppose it was premeditated – I mean, a person seems unlikely to stab someone in the lung just because they felt like it?”

  In the warm, cozy haven of her sitting-room, Monty snoring lightly on the chair beside her, it seemed impossible to Laura to contemplate. But she had considered it herself. Maybe the motive for killing him was a more immediate one – he had enraged someone or offended someone? What if he was having an affair..? So many possibilities. Maybe someone in the bank just grabbed something in a rage and stabbed him?

  “Problem with that, though,” Laura replied, answering her own question, “is that it's unlikely someone could just grab a long needle-like object off a table and stab someone with it. I mean,” she continued, “stuff like what you described is pretty specific: a tenth of an inch wide, fifteen inches long? I mean, yes, I have knitting needles and bits of wire here that fit the description, but they're not just lying around where I could grab them. And I'm sure that's even more true at the bank.”

  Howard nodded. He finished his coffee and set aside the cup, a finger resting on his lip in thought. “You're right,” he said after a moment. “I can't think of anyone I know who carries around long thin stabbing weapons.”

  Laura laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. “Me neither...and that's something I'm quite pleased about!”

  They sat together quietly for a while, thinking.

  “You know,” Howard said after a moment, “I wonder if Judy would agree to me having a look around her home. I mean, the police know me, and if I say she doesn't have the means – to say nothing of the physical strength – to perform such a deed, they'd believe me.”

  Laura beamed. Judy had asked her to ask Howard for his help, and by some miraculous means here he was, offering it!

  “You know, Howard? I think that would be a brilliant idea.”

  “You think she would be okay with that?”

  “I know she would!” Laura agreed. “In fact, I know she'd feel much better with you than with the police being there – I was there when they did the search and she was miserable.”

  “How did it go?” Howard asked, reaching for a cookie. Laura had baked earlier, and her chocolate chip cookies were a favorite of everyone who knew her. Laura suppressed a smile as he crunched appreciatively through another one.

  “It was bad,” she said, reaching for a cookie for herself. “I mean, Judy was really brave about it, but it was clear she hated it. They should leave her alone!” she said hotly. “What?” she asked.

  “You really think she had nothing to do with it?”

  “Yes!” Laura said firmly. Then she paused. “Well...”

  “She has the clearest motive,” Howard said gently. “And there is something else I heard...” he ran a hand over his face, looking disturbed.

  “What?” Laura asked, feeling worried.

  “Her lawyer, Mr. Parson. He says...he's been getting threatening notes.”

  “Her lawyer?” Laura was shocked. “Threatening him about what?”

  Howard sighed. “He said he was told to delay the reading of the will. The letter was unsigned, and f
ound in his post-box with no indication of where it came from. I don't know exactly what it said, but I do know there have been three such.”

  “Someone is trying to stop the will being read?” Laura covered her mouth in shock. Howard nodded. “But why?” As she said it, a nasty suspicion entered her. “Oh, my...”

  “What?”

  “It's his brother,” she said decidedly. “I'm sure of it.”

  “How?” Howard asked, surprised. “Why are you so sure?”

  “I...” Laura began and stopped. If she told Howard what the policeman had told her – that Brandon Hugh was the only person who had no alibi for his whereabouts that night. But if the police know that, then why are they blaming my cousin? “I just had a feeling,” she explained. “I don't think Judy did it. I hope I'm not biased because she's my cousin, but I don't think so. The woman is in shock, Howard.”

  “True,” Howard agreed. He leaned back, finger tapping his lips in thought. “Do you know Mr. Hugh at all? Mr. Hugh the younger brother, I mean?”

  “No,” Laura said. “I mean, I met him once – not a nice person. But I don't know anything about him, really.” Except what Private Stanton told me in his note. As she thought it, Laura wondered where the note had gone.

  “What is it, Laura?” Howard asked. Laura jumped. The blood had drained from her face as she had a particularly unpleasant thought.

  “N...nothing, Howard,” she said shakily. But it was something. That note had been in her study. She was sure of it. “I just have to check something.”

  “Okay,” Howard said easily. “But if you're feeling ill, please tell me. At very least I can rummage around and find some Paracetemol for you, you know.” He smiled.

  “Thanks,” Laura said faintly. “But I'm okay. I just need to see where something is...” her voice trailed off as she walked through to the study. There she paused at the desk. I put it in here in the top drawer, with my notebook. I know I did.

  She opened the drawer. The Post-it was missing.