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

by Carrie Marsh

  “I'm ready for bed,” she said firmly.

  Howard nodded. “Me too.”

  They went together into the bedroom. Monty stayed where he was on the couch.

  Later, much later, the moon was slanting through the window across from the bed, patterning Laura's eyelids with bars of moonlight.

  Laura rolled over, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She had been woken, but she was not sure what had woken her. She heard the telephone ringing and remembered, reaching for it half-asleep.

  “Laura!”

  Laura sat up, instantly alert. It was Judy's voice. She was frightened.

  “Yes?”

  “Laura! There's someone trying to get into the house!”

  “What?” Laura said loudly. Judy hissed at her.

  “Be quiet! I don't want anyone to know which room we're in.”

  “Is Andrew there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Judy, call the police. Do it now. Howard and I are on our way.” She could hear the woman hesitating – her fear of the police was clearly as great as her fear of whatever was outside. “If you don't want to, I will,” Laura said firmly.

  “I'll call them,” Judy agreed.

  “Good. I'll bring Howard. I'm on my way.”

  She hung up and Howard, sitting beside her, looked over at her worriedly.

  “What is it?”

  “It's Judy. There's someone trying to break in.” Laura was already out of bed.

  Howard stared. Then he too slid out of bed, reaching for his clothing. “She needs us.”

  “Yes. She's called the police,” Laura explained, shrugging her blouse over her head and reaching for her skirt, “but I think we should go too. She needs someone there fast. Someone she trusts,” she added vehemently, fastening her skirt and reaching for a pair of shoes to wear.

  Howard was already dressed, and together they walked to the car.

  “Bye, Monty,” Laura whispered.

  Bye, he said sleepily in return. She heard him shifting on the couch and her heart tensed. Every time she left the house in dangerous circumstances, she worried about Monty. What would happen to him if she didn't come back? She resolved to ask Janet to take him.

  She and Howard drove quickly to Judy's cottage. When they reached it, the police were already there. The sirens were on and the blue lights were flashing. There were three policemen standing by the car, and another one on the porch. As they walked up, a fifth man appeared round the side of the house.

  “What's happening?” Laura asked the nearest officer, mercifully someone neither she nor Howard knew. Had something happened to Judy? What was going on?

  “We arrested a man,” the young man said curtly, jerking his head towards the car. “He was trying to break in.”

  Howard walked over to the car immediately, and Laura stayed with the young officer. “Where is Mrs. Hugh?” she asked gently.

  “Upstairs with her son. They locked themselves in her room and called us. Sensible move,” he added, approving.

  Laura nodded her thanks and ran lightly up the stairs. She found Judy and Andrew in the bedroom. Judy was holding a cup of coffee between her hands, and Andrew was at the window, watching the activities in the garden outside.

  “I'm here,” Laura said gently. “I'm so glad you called! Are you okay?”

  “I'm okay,” Judy added dryly. Strangely, she looked unafraid. “Thank Dr Lucas for the pills, will you?” she smiled wearily. “I've taken two of them.”

  “Judy..?” Laura sighed, stroking her hair. Andrew shook his head and turned away to the window.

  “Mom's okay. I think her liver can handle a couple of extra tablets,” he said with surprising tenderness. “I'm just glad they caught that guy. I don't know what he would have done...” his voice trailed off and he came to sit beside his mother, taking her hand.

  “Where was he, Andrew?” Laura asked gently.

  “He was by the side window of the kitchen. The only window without bars. I don't know how long he's been casing the place,” he added, huffing incredulously. “He must have been hanging about for weeks.”

  “It was the person who sent the note?” Laura asked.

  Judy nodded, but Andrew shrugged. “Don't know yet,” he explained. “The policemen'll run a check on him later. Maybe he couldn't have been. Strange coincidence, though,” he added thoughtfully.

  “It is,” Laura agreed. She stroked Judy's hair, feeling worried. Where was Howard? If the woman had an overdose, they needed him up here now...

  “Laura?”

  “Howard!” Laura said, relieved. “Thank Heaven. Just who I needed.” She drew him aside and whispered the details of Judy's condition. Howard frowned and went over to her.

  “How are you, Mrs. Hugh?”

  “Okay,” she said. Her voice was a ghosted whisper and she was pale. Howard looked into her eyes and took her pulse. He chatted to her a while and then took Laura aside, leaving the woman with her son.

  “She'll be okay,” he confided. “It's not too much of an OD. She's shaking a bit, but her heart rhythm is stable and her blood pressure isn't too low. A good sleep and she'll feel okay tomorrow, if a little bit nauseous.” He shook his head. “Make sure she drinks water,” he added.

  Laura nodded. “And outside?” she asked. She inclined her head towards the police-car. They heard doors slamming and the officers drove away.

  “The guy seems to be a bit of a nutter,” Howard said dryly. “He's apparently an acquaintance of Judy's. From the school? I think he may have a bit of a...thing about her,” he added.

  “A thing?” Laura stared. “A crush, you mean?”

  “Yes,” Howard said, running a hand through his hair.

  “Do you think he was the one sending death-threats?”

  Howard sighed. “I don't know. It seems a weird thing to do. All we can say is that he does know where she lives, clearly. And he probably would have known about the will. But would he have asked her to delay it? I don't know why,” he added.

  “Me neither.”

  Laura shook her head and looked around the room. The light was off and the house was lit with moonlight. Judy and her son sat on the bed, her son talking to her in a low voice, promising her it would be okay. Laura bit her lip. The poor woman. The poor boy! They had just lost someone. They didn't need all this added drama in their lives.

  “Judy?” Laura asked, going to stand beside her.

  “Mm?” Judy looked up drowsily. She was swaying a little, clearly about to fall asleep. Her hands were cold when Laura held them – the low blood-pressure Howard was talking about, presumably.

  “Be safe, huh?” she squeezed her hand. “You can go to sleep now. Howard and I will stay on in the guest-room, if you like?” she added.

  “It's...okay,” Judy said slowly. She squeezed her son's hand. “Andrew's here.”

  “I know,” Laura said, and smiled at the young man, who frowned back. “If you're sure?”

  “I'm sure...” Judy said. Andrew moved slightly so that she could lie down. Howard went to talk to him, discussing treatment. Then he and Laura left.

  On the way home, Laura could not stop thinking about all that had happened. So the note might not be connected to the case after all? Or, if it was, how? Was the “nutter” Howard had mentioned involved with the murder? Or was he just another layer of this case, which was already as many-layered as anything Laura had ever seen?

  Exhausted herself, she fell asleep on the drive home. Howard gently carried her to bed where she slept until eight o' clock next morning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  AN AFTERNOON OUT

  AN AFTERNOON OUT

  In the sunshine, the sitting-room was warm and pleasant. Laura leaned back on the chair and closed her eyes.

  It was mercifully her half-day, and she had returned home to try and catch up on sleep after the lunch service. And to think. This case was exhausting. Not just because of her emotional involvement with Judy, which wasn't helping her think clearly a
bout it – but also because of the convolutions involved in it. There were so many parts to this web.

  First, there was the policeman who was stalking her. Then, there was the man stalking Judy. There was the tax-evasion issue and how hated Albert Hugh seemed to have been during his life: that already made the list of potential murderers longer. There was the note delivered to Judy, and her own involvement – she also had a clear motive for murdering her husband. Then there was the actress, and her sudden disappearance. None of it made sense!

  Laura closed her eyes and put aside her cup of tea. At that moment, Monty came in.

  Hello! He said brightly. Laura patted her knee and he jumped up to join her.

  “Hello,” she said.

  You sound tired, Monty commented, making himself comfortable beside her on the chair.

  “I am,” Laura explained, stroking his head. He purred.

  I'm not! It's lovely outside. Why don't you join me? The fields are beautiful and full of mice! And Keillor and I went for a long walk in the fields...

  Laura smiled as he rambled about mice and fields and friendship. She stroked his head. She knew he was worried about her. It was not like her to be depressed or exhausted. Now she was both. Maybe Monty was right. Maybe she needed a long walk in the fields.

  “Maybe you're right, Monty,” she said, bending down to cuddle him. He purred more.

  Of course, he said smugly. I'm usually right.

  Laura chuckled. “True. Where did you walk with Keillor?” she asked, already easing him off her knee to stand and walk to the door.

  In the fields near Noelle's farm, he explained, referring to the farm of Laura's other friend, Noelle Hogarth. It was so sunny, and we saw mice. There was a couple there having a picnic. They had bicycles. I don't like bicycles.

  Laura laughed. “Neither do I much, Monty,” she agreed. Ever since the murder weapon was found, she could not help associating bicycles with spokes and spokes with death. She didn't much care for bicycles anymore either.

  You've never had your tail squashed by one, he said crossly.

  “Well, neither have you,” Laura smiled, patting his head as she went to fetch her coat.

  Almost, Monty said huffily. That man Ron you seemed to like, he nearly ran it clean off! And..

  Laura shook her head, laughing. She had forgotten about that! Clearly Monty hadn't. He had always hated Ron, and Laura had come to accept that he had pretty clear insight into people. If he said someone was horrible, they were.

  “I'm going for a walk in the sunshine,” she called to Monty. “Have fun. I've put tuna in your bowl if you're hungry,” she added.

  Tuna?

  “Yes.”

  She smiled as she heard him jump off the couch.

  As she walked down the path, she felt her spirits lifting. Monty was right about that, too – it was beautiful outside. The sun was soaking down onto the lawns and there was almost no breeze.

  “It's a good day for a picnic,” she mused, remembering what Monty had said. She got into the car and drove to the fields. She found herself heading in the direction Monty had described – it was an easy place to get to, and she had free rein to walk around the fields there. She stopped on the roadside and started walking.

  As she crossed the road, she saw a couple on bicycles. They flashed past in a hurry, but Laura was sure she recognized one of them. She had long chestnut curls, and her slim figure was clad in a vintage skirt and blouse.

  Imogen Weston? Laura stared. But she left town, didn't she?

  She tried to catch a glimpse of the man who rode with her, but they were already out of sight. The man leaned forward on the bars like a professional, keeping up a good pace. He was clearly well muscled, Laura could see that from his back and his posture. It wasn't Peter, the old man from the hotel. That was all she could see for sure.

  Laura walked in the fields for a while, enjoying the sound of the larks singing overhead and the scent of the hay on the cool air. Try as she might, she could not stop her mind from racing down the new trail of thought. That was Imogen! She would recognise her anywhere: no-one else in the village looked like that or dressed like that. But what was she still doing here, riding bicycles in the middle of nowhere with a complete stranger accompanying her?

  As she thought about it, she remembered the night about a week ago, when she had nearly had an accident in her car. She had been fairly sure Imogen Weston had been in the passenger seat, but who had been driving? It had looked like Anthony Morrison, the local millionaire. Was that the same man? Maybe.

  Shaking her head at herself, she walked back to her car. She had meant to forget about all of this for the afternoon. And now here she was, making fresh investigations?

  “Come on, Laura,” she said to herself as she reached the car and slid into the driver’s seat. “You need a break. A real one.”

  She put her foot on the gas and drove home, stopping at the village cafe on the way back for a coffee. She tried to relax but her mind would not stop chasing the thought. The actress had returned, and was bicycling in the hills with some guy who looked as if he rode the Tour de France?

  Bicycles. Bicycle spokes.

  When she thought it, Laura laughed. I am being really silly now, she dismissed it. Still feeling uneasy, she finished her coffee and drove home to Monty and what was left of the afternoon's rays.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  MORE INFORMATION

  MORE INFORMATION

  “Did you hear the news?”

  “No,” Laura said. She and Janet were sitting in the reception area, making signs for the tables. The hotel was hosting a reception, and the organizer wanted it all clearly laid out.

  “It's Imogen!” Janet laughed. “She's here!” She put a hand over her mouth then, and looked around. Clearly, the news was a secret. Laura stared.

  “What?”

  “She didn't need to leave at all!” Janet explained. “I heard from her yesterday – she texted me to ask about farms with guest-accommodation. She's still here in the Millerfield area after all!”

  “Really?” Laura stared. If nothing else, that confirmed her suspicions. The woman she had seen the previous day really was Imogen Weston. At least she knew she was not imagining it – but what was she still doing here, after she had told everyone she had to go?

  “Yes!” Janet continued. “I said that, too! And she trusted me enough to tell me why.” She looked around. “Don't tell anyone,” she added, and then leaned to Laura to whisper to her: “She's here to see Anthony Morrison.”

  “What?” Laura stared at her. She just remembered who Anthony Morrison was – the multimillionaire she had seen – or thought she had seen – driving the car that night she nearly collided with the actress on the road. “Like, the same Anthony Morrison who was here?”

  “Yes!” Janet said, and giggled. She looked around and then whispered again: “They've been seeing each other for years!”

  Laura stared. “But why are they being so secret about it?”

  “Well,” Janet frowned. “I don't think it's so much that they don't want people to know about them, as they don't want the press all over the place, following them. It's one of the reasons she's down here, apparently. Besides the fact that his home is here, of course.” Janet explained.

  “It is?”

  “Yes!” Janet explained. “He bought a mansion somewhere between here and Maidstone, after he made all his money. It's really amazing, or so I was told by someone who'd seen it.”

  “Really?” Laura asked. “How long has he been rich, so to speak?”

  “Only about five years,” Janet explained, reaching for another piece of cardboard, finishing a label that said “Tea”.

  “How did he make his money?” Laura asked, interestedly, as she reached for more cardboard and some glue.

  “Bicycles,” Janet said. “What?”

  Laura had frozen. She looked up at Janet, feeling suddenly icy. “Sorry?”

  “It's not a dirty word,”
Janet laughed. “He owns a company that imports European bicycles. He's been doing it for years – he used his success as a sportsman to start the place, and the shop got famous and became a bit of a franchise. He owns stores in Canterbury and York and...I don't even know where else!” Janet sighed. “He must be loaded,” she added.

  “Bicycles,” Laura said again. She couldn't believe it. It explained who she had seen with Imogen the other day – a professional cyclist is what he had looked like, so it must be Mr. Morrison – but the thought that had stayed with her about the spokes would not be shaken.

  “Yes,” Janet said, looking at her oddly. “Are you okay, Laura? You look scared.”

  “I'm okay,” Laura confirmed. “Just thinking.” She paused, finishing her sign as she thought. At length, she asked Janet another question. “Where exactly does he live?”

  “He lives about three miles out of the village, actually. Along the main road. He has a gorgeous farm there – there's an old Regency style manor on it, and he had it restored. It must have eaten cash, but now he can make money out of it – hosting functions there and stuff. It's got very popular...” she trailed off, reaching for another piece of cardboard.

  “So he has a lot of business interests?” Laura asked faintly.

  “Oh, yeah!” Janet said enthusiastically. “The guy's the most important thing on the Millerfield local economy,” she laughed. “He probably generates more money and jobs around here than this hotel does,” she added, gesturing around the hotel.

  “So,” Laura said, trying to be as casual as possible, “he must be taxed a lot, too, then?”

  “Probably,” Janet said casually. “It seems a small drawback, though, when you're hauling in loads of cash, right? It wouldn't put me off doing it!” she chuckled warmly.

  Laura joined in her laughter, though she felt uneasy. There was only a tentative link – his secretive behavior and a bicycle spoke – but she couldn't shake the idea from her mind. The man had a good reason for not liking taxmen, that was certain. But would he actually kill one?