“No!” bellowed Jeremy, who still had the shears in his hand. He moved menacingly towards the Inspector and raised the pointed blades as Sergeant Webster launched through the door and hit Jeremy with his body. Jeremy’s head glanced against the edge of the balcony and he crumpled to the floor, Webster crawling on top of him, his fingers prizing the shears away.
Crothers pushed downwards upon the legs of the screaming Melissa and her head reappeared over the lip of the balcony. Webster punched Jeremy once for good measure before helping the breathless Inspector pull Melissa back to safety.
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠
Epilogue
Crothers switched off his phone, for once turning it completely off. He had made his last call to Diane Dimbleby to inform her of the condition of Jeremy and Melissa and to thank her for all of her help. She had probably saved two lives, and this was not the first time. After that, he had decided he was done for the day, the week, the year, for all he cared. He had seen enough for one day, and his heart was heavy.
Pushing open the back door, a familiar wet nose and tongue were sticking around the edge even before it was fully open. Gunner’s tail wagged wildly with excitement, a situation that had broken more than one low-lying vase. Darrell reached down and ruffled the wavy hair on the spaniel’s head while simultaneously trying to force his way past and into the house.
The kitchen was bright compared to the dark night he had left behind the closed door. A rich scent wafted to his nostrils, and he sniffed deeply. Shepherd’s pie. Salivation was involuntary, and he made for the oven, pulling down the front door as he grabbed for a mitt. He could hardly wait, the home-cooked meal being a distant memory due to work.
As he spooned significant potato-crusted dollops onto a plate, Darrell’s wife leaned over his seated shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek. Her lips burned pleasantly on his cheek and drifted down to his heart. He was content, a night that could only be capped by having time with his son. But it was a school night, and the lad needed his sleep.
Darrell chatted softly while he ate, not about work but the office gossip of their respective workplaces. Once he was filled beyond capacity, they passed into the living room, took a station on the sofa with a good view of the TV and within five minutes, Darrell was giving his snoring commentary to the programming.
Diane smiled softly to herself as she pulled around the corner to the road where she lived. She had left Monica once the Inspector had called, reassuring her that she was safe again, and giving her cell phone number to the girl in case she needed someone to talk to.
Inspector Crothers had informed her that, though Melissa had the finger chopped off, doctors were certain that they could reattach it such that she would have minimal loss of function. Of Jeremy Thurston, he had sustained a head wound and was securely held in the hospital under guard. His mother, while weak, was expected to recover fully and recommence the abuse of her son.
Crothers had a rough story from Jeremy, his motives being deeply tied to his mother. She seemed an unpleasant sort, having abused both Jeremy and his father, the latter by repeatedly denying him marriage and emasculating him by having affairs with other men until he died a sad and broken man. She had then turned all of her attention to Jeremy, labelling him as worthless, and telling him that no woman could love him, and that he would never marry because of how pathetic he was. Still, he had cared for her as she aged.
Working at the jewellery store, he saw how happy engagement made people, and he wanted the same. He had tried to become friendly with co-workers, but they had found his advances clumsy and even a little frightening at times. Eventually, he had found Melissa. They had been friendly at work but at some stage, Jeremy had wanted more, though he had been rebuffed. He saw Melissa as his one chance of happiness, and when she left without a forwarding address, he had become frantic. Over and over, he had stewed in the idea of marrying Melissa until he could not do anything else. He had tricked her new address out of her old roommates and decided he needed to make her an offer that she couldn’t refuse.
The finger he had sent as a warning: marry me or else. But she had never received it. When he found out that someone else had the finger, he decided to take his shot and give Melissa no choice, no more chances to reject him. The poor girl had been abducted in plain sight. Thankfully, it had ended no worse than it did.
Diane pulled into her driveway, turning off the engine before she felt something was wrong. Had she left the living room light on? Maybe the police had when they left earlier. Surely they had locked the house up?
She scanned the front of the house for any other signs of irregularity. Rufus was not barking, which was good. Did the living room curtain twitch?
Diane chastised herself. She was letting this day get the better of her. She had read too many crime novels for her own mental well-being. She popped the car door and headed to the house, her stride a little less vigorous than usual.
There… the curtain had moved, she was sure. It could have been Rufus knocking along its edge. He liked to sleep behind them at night while the lights were on. As a precaution, Diane reached for her phone. Scrolling through, she found the app she wanted.
The key slid into the door, and Rufus barked loudly on the other side. Surely a good sign, she told herself. The lock clicked, and she pushed the door wide, standing back in the garden to watch from a safe distance. Rufus barrelled out and ran circles around Diane’s legs, his excitement getting the better of his usual resigned indifference.
Nothing appeared out of place. The door to the living room was shut, however, and with a whirling Rufus panting around her, Diane took a step inside the door and listened. Nothing but the manic dog breathing.
With a skip of her heart, Diane pushed in the living room door and prepared her phone.
Albert knelt in the middle of the floor in his best suit and tie, his hand holding a small open box in front of him. The object inside the box glistened and flickered as Albert’s hand shook faintly. He swallowed like there was a golf ball in his throat and sweat sparkled on his brow.
“Diane, my love,” he said shakily. “Will you marry me?”
Diane’s finger twitched and a siren blared from her phone.
Get Your Free Copy of "Murder at the Inn"
Don't forget to grab your free copy of Penelope Sotheby's first novella Murder At The Inn while you still can.
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Other Books By This Author
Murder on the Village Green
Murder in the Neighbourhood
Murder on a Yacht
Murder in the Village
Murder in Bermuda
Murder in the Bahamas
Murder in Jamaica
Murder in Barbados
Murder in Aruba
About The Author
For many, the thought of childhood conjures images of hopscotch games in quiet neighbourhoods, and sticky visits to the local sweet shop. For Penelope Sotheby, childhood meant bathing in Bermuda, jiving in Jamaica and exploring a string of strange and exotic British territories with her nomadic family. New friends would come and go, but her constant companion was an old, battered collection of Agatha Christie novels that filled her hours with intrigue and wonder.
Penelope would go on to read every single one of Christie’s sixty-six novels—multiple times—and so was born a love of suspense than can be found in Sotheby’s own works today.
In 2011 the author debuted with “Murder at the Inn”, a whodunit novella set on Graham Island off the West Coast of Canada. After receiving positive acclaim, Sotheby went on to write the series “Murder in Paradise”; five novels following the antics of a wedding planner navigating nuptials (and crime scenes) in the tropical locations of Sotheby’s formative years.
An avid gardener, proud mother, and passionate host of Murder Mystery weekends, Sotheby can often be found at her large oak table, gleefully plotting the demise of her friends, tricky twists and grand reveals.
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Murder in the Mail: A Diane Dimbleby Cozy Mystery Page 8