Murder in an English Village

by Jessica Ellicott

Prudence Rathbone would have sworn if she ever permitted herself to indulge in such a vulgar vice. She was just finishing up an inventory of the penny stamps when a squeal distracted her from her duties. Inventory was always on her list of weekly tasks and now she would have to start over.

  But since the damage was already done there was nothing to keep her from sliding out from behind the counter to look for the source of the commotion. She peered through the sparkling windows of her post office-cum stationer-cum sweet shop. A scarlet motorcar with a disreputable dent in the bonnet had screeched to a halt directly in front of her store.

  A great bulk of a woman poured out of the vehicle and slammed—yes, slammed—the door. Prudence scarcely had time to return to her place of authority behind the counter before the woman was in the shop making a beeline for her. There was something familiar about her that Prudence was just about to identify when the woman stopped in front of the till and removed her driving goggles.

  “I wonder if you could direct me to the nearest garage? My car is in dire need of service.”

  “You’re Beryl Helliwell.” Prudence’s mind boggled. The closest celebrity encounter she had ever had was when as a small girl she had been the second runner-up in an egg in spoon race where the prizes were handed out by the owner of the local cricket bat factory. And now the face she had so often seen beaming at her from the pages of the newspapers was there in her shop.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “What are you doing in Walmsley Parva?” Prudence realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut with such ferocity she heard her jaw pop.

  “Are you the owner of this establishment?” Beryl Helliwell gestured round the shop with a gloved hand. She tipped her head this way and that as if she was really taking in the scene around her and not simply making conversation. Prudence felt a surge of pride and a desire to impress.

  “I am. It belonged to my parents before me and my mother’s parents before them.”

  “Then you must enjoy a certain standing in the community as a respected business owner.” Beryl raised her eyebrows and nodded. Prudence realized they understood each other perfectly.

  “How kind of you to say so. I like to think I hold myself, and my shop, to a certain standard.” Prudence flicked an imaginary speck of dust from the gleaming counter.

  “I feel quite certain you are a person known for her discretion. Is that not the case?” Prudence felt warmth rise to her sallow cheeks as she basked in the compliment.

  “I shouldn’t like to presume to know what my customers have to say about me. But I do take pride in keeping myself above common gossip.”

  “I always trust my instincts and even though I probably shouldn’t, they’re telling me to let you in on a little secret.” Beryl leaned over the counter and lowered her voice. “I’m here answering a coded distress call from my dear friend Edwina Davenport. Perhaps you know her?”

  “Edwina Davenport? A distress call?” Prudence’s mind reeled. How could a mousy thing like Edwina Davenport be friends with the likes of legendary adventuress Beryl Helliwell? Let alone involved with something as thrilling as a coded distress call. “You mean like something out of a spy novel?”

  “I knew you’d understand. Ed is such a rare talent. We would have clobbered the Kaiser in half the time it ended up taking if the agency only had a few more like Ed.”

  “Do you mean to say Edwina Davenport is a secret agent?”

  “Shhh!” Beryl pressed a gloved finger firmly against Prudence’s lips. “The war may be over but there are still enemy eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “My apologies. It just spilled out. After all, I’ve known Edwina all my life and never would have guessed she was more than the daughter of a country solicitor who had run out of money.” Prudence could not believe her ears. It was simply unfathomable. “After all, there was that advertisement in the papers seeking a lodger.”

  “Quite sporting of her, that bit was.” Beryl leaned even closer and winked. “Even though she knew it would cause unpleasant conjecture in the village, Ed went ahead and placed the ad. It was our coded distress call, you see.”

  “You mean she doesn’t actually need a lodger?” Prudence chewed furiously on this bit of information. For weeks the subject of Edwina Davenport’s finances had been on everyone’s mind thanks to her determined efforts to keep it there. The story would have died down if Prudence had not shown her customary vigilance in reading the advertisement section of the newspaper.

  “Certainly not. Ed is up to her eyeballs in liquid assets. She could buy up the entire village at a whack if she were of a mind to.”

  “But she owes money at the greengrocer, the chemist, and although I don’t like to mention it, even here.”

  “All part of the cover story. Very convincing, wasn’t it?”

  “So she besmirched her reputation in aid of a secret governmental agency?”

  “There’s nothing Ed isn’t willing to sacrifice for His Majesty.” Beryl cleared her throat. “He told me so himself.” Prudence gasped. It was all too thrilling. In her wildest dreams Prudence would never have dreamed up such a startling turn of events. It was just like something out of the pictures.

  “But if she sent you a message, she must be on a mission.” A delicious shiver crept between Prudence’s prominent shoulder blades.

  “As I’m sure you can appreciate, I cannot possibly confirm such a report. Suffice it to say Ed has never needed to call me in to assist before now. I trust I can depend on you to keep this to yourself?”

  “My lips are sealed,” Prudence said as her glance wandered over Beryl’s shoulder and out onto the street landing on her friend Minnie Mumford who had stopped on the street to ogle the red motorcar.

  Chapter 3

  “You did what?” Edwina paced the rug in the hallway with such determination that little puffs of dust billowed round her ankles.

  “I quite cleverly implied you are a secret agent.”

  “Implied it or said it flat out?” Edwina stopped and faced her old friend.

  “Somewhere betwixt the two I suspect.” Beryl finished polishing an apple she had bought after settling Edwina’s bill at the greengrocer and held it out. “Eat this. You need to keep up your strength if you are to effectively remain in the service of His Majesty.” Edwina shook her head and waved away the fruit.

  “Tell me you did not lead people to believe I work for the King.” Edwina sagged against the wall, her knees threatening to give way beneath her.

  “Quite a stroke of genius that was. Besides, I’m not the one telling people. I only told Miss Rathbone who assured me she would keep it to herself.”

  “But Prudence is the most brazen gossip in the village. She won’t be able to eat, sleep, or remember to breathe until she’s passed what she knows to every resident of Walmsley Parva over the age of nine.”

  “Exactly. No need to thank me, Ed. It was a pleasure to watch the old bat’s eyes bulge from her face.”

  “She’s younger than you are, Beryl.”

  “As I always say, age is a state of mind. I meet very few people who seem younger than me. Besides, your new reputation as a superior sort of secret agent has shaved years off you, at least in the eyes of your neighbors.” Beryl took a loud bite of the rejected apple and smiled.

  Edwina pressed away from the wall and gathered herself to her full height.

  “You must return to town and tell Prudence the truth. I cannot abide lies.”

  “Then you must have changed a great deal over the years.” Beryl squinted and took a step closer to Edwina. “Do you remember the chocolate box incident?”

  “That was an exceptional circumstance. The games mistress would never have let Bertha James live down the shame of helping herself to those sweets. You know how cruel she was.”

  “What about the stories for Frances Beddoes? If it weren’t for the little white lies you told her about the older girls who were bullying her, she wouldn’t have had the courage to stand up to them.”


  “She needed a bit of a boost. It was all for a good cause. Besides, I was a child at the time. You can’t hold that against me.”

  “What about telling your mother that my parents were nudists and that they were planning to induct me into the group over the school break so that she would invite me to spend the holiday here with you instead?”

  “I seem to remember you crying yourself to sleep every night thinking about how much you didn’t want to go home.”

  “You saved me from a great deal of heartache, Ed. Your lies are always motivated by concern for others. It was only fair that I did the same for you. Frankly it is a relief to be able to pay you back at long last.”

  “Even now I can’t believe I used the word nudist with my mother. Or that she survived hearing me say it.” A dimple appeared in Edwina’s cheek. “Still, I feel quite wretched about deceiving everyone.”

  Beryl handed Edwina a smooth pear from the folds of her fashionable duster coat and noted with pleasure that her friend accepted it. As a schoolgirl Ed’s moods could be gauged by her appetite. Beryl knew if Ed would just take a bite it would signal that she had accepted a way out of her embarrassing predicament. Edwina bit.

  “Then the only thing for it is to make the lie the truth. We shall set out to uncover some dark doings here in Walmsley Parva.”

  “There are no nefarious goings-on in the village. There never have been,” she said after swallowing a large chunk of pear.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned rattling all over the globe it’s that everywhere you go someone is up to no good.” Beryl dropped her apple core into the nearest plant pot. “Even in Walmsley Parva. Haven’t there been any unsolved crimes in the area over the last ten years?”

  “Not that come to mind.”

  “Surely there’s something. Pennies missing from the alms box? An errant husband who died suddenly of an unidentified stomach ailment? A hunting accident?” Beryl watched a flicker of an idea cross her friend’s mind before she shook her head.

  “I shall have to think about it a bit more before I should like to say anything. Accusations are hard to withdraw.” Edwina crossed her arms over her chest and Beryl knew there was no hope of persuading her to speak before she was ready.

  * * *

  Edwina rinsed out her cocoa cup and Beryl’s brandy snifter and placed them on the drain board. The clock on the wall ticked quietly and the night sounds of the house gathered in around her ears. Edwina had insisted on clearing up the dishes on her own while Beryl went off to bed with a book on local history. As much as she was glad of the company, having someone around all the time would take some getting used to.

  Wind whipped round the house and wriggled between the glass and sash of the windows. Edwina told herself the creaking she heard was just the normal sounds of the house as it settled for the night. Any creaking above her head was just the unfamiliar sound of Beryl moving between the guest room and the lavatory. She felt a murmur of unease when Crumpet scratched at the scullery door to remind her of her duties as his mistress.

  “Are you sure you must?” she asked. His urgent prancing between the door and her feet announced that indeed he must. Edwina was loath to head out into the dark. She had spent the evening considering whether or not to mention the Wallingford Estate to Beryl. All that dwelling on the possibility of criminal behavior had spooked her. Still, she was even more reluctant to allow Crumpet to head out into the darkness alone. Especially not after the scare she had when she thought she had lost him beneath the squeal of Beryl’s tires.

  She plucked her wool coat from the peg and wound her extralong muffler round her neck for good measure. Edwina impatiently flipped the scarf ends out of the way as she bent to clip Crumpet’s lead to his leather collar. She wasn’t prepared to go chasing him about in the dark. She lifted a torch from the shelf next to the door and commanded herself to be sensible. Unbolting the door she allowed Crumpet to tug her into the garden before she could change her mind.

  The wind ruffled her hair and played with the end of her scarf. Edwina trained the torch on the ground in front of her. Crumpet hurried as fast as the length of lead would allow and made straight for his favourite part of the garden, an overgrown wedge of shrubs used to screen the brush pile.

  Edwina turned back to the house and felt comforted by the glow of light coming from the guest room. It was nicer than Edwina wanted to admit to have someone in the house with her. She hadn’t realized quite how lonely she really was until she wasn’t.

  Crumpet tugged at her again and she took a step deeper into the unfinished part of the garden. She believed in preserving wild areas in the garden for birds and insects to create shelters. More times than she liked to consider she had argued the point about the brush pile with her gardener Simpkins. In fact, more than once Simpkins had threatened to quit over her insistence on keeping what he considered an invitation for bothersome rabbits and hedgehogs.

  But it was her garden and so the pile was heaped up with clippings of yew and trimmings from a pollarded row of beeches that led to the summerhouse. Simpkins always tut-tutted as he tipped each wheelbarrow full onto the pile but he had followed her instructions. Crumpet caught the scent of something beneath the pile and began to dig beneath it with a will. Deeper and deeper he dove beneath the crisscrossing branches. Edwina gave a sharp tug on the lead and found it had become entangled. With a sigh of frustration she leaned forward to pull it free.

  Just as she did so she felt something yank on the ends of her scarf. “Not me, too,” she thought as the scarf began to tighten around her neck. “What can I have gotten caught on?” Below her, Crumpet began to bark and to growl. Panic rose in her chest. Edwina’s heart thrashed and thumped like the sparrow she had once discovered caught in her gooseberry netting. The scarf drew tighter and tighter from behind. She realized the scarf was not caught but rather that someone was deliberately pulling on it. She tried to twist round to view her attacker but felt a knee raise up and press into the small of her back, pinning her in place.

  Energized by the thought she would not give Simpkins the satisfaction of finding her dead on the brush pile, she tilted her head out of the way then sharply raised the hand holding the torch over her shoulder with all her strength. She felt it make contact with something firm and heard a sharp intake of breath from her assailant. The scarf went slack and Edwina twisted, hoping to get a look at her attacker. Whoever it was streaked off into the velvety dark of the wood. Edwina knew she would never identify the attacker if she didn’t give chase but she simply hadn’t the strength. It was all she could manage to free Crumpet from the brush pile and to stagger back into the house.

  * * *

  Beryl had returned to the kitchen to look for her brandy snifter when Edwina burst through the door and sank into the nearest chair, dropping a bedraggled scarf on the floor in a heap. She looked as though she had gone ten rounds with a tornado. Bits of evergreen needles and twigs nestled in her hair as though a bird thought to settle down to raise a family on her head. Crumpet stood pressed against her leg, his ears pricked and nose twitching. He didn’t look any cleaner than Edwina but he did look ready to spring into action.

  “Is it really that difficult to walk the dog around here? You look positively done in.” Beryl reached over and plucked a tiny leaf from Edwina’s shoulder.

  “It is when someone tries to strangle you in your own garden.” Edwina reached up and spread apart the lapels of her coat. Beryl couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “I was walking Crumpet at the back of the property when someone grabbed the ends of my scarf. Before I knew what was happening I couldn’t breathe. I’ve never felt so frightened in my life.” Edwina did look grey. Beryl spotted the clean brandy snifter on the drain board and then hurried to the drinks tray in the parlor for a large tot of spine stiffener. Beryl had a great deal of experience with people in the throes of shock. It tended to happen to others at an alarming rate when she was
in the vicinity.

  She pressed the glass into Edwina’s trembling hands and waited for her to swallow more than half of its contents before she allowed herself to ask questions. “How did you get away?”

  “Bashed him on the head with my torch.” Edwina sat up a little straighter at the memory.

  “Very resourceful. How do you know it was a man?”

  “I suppose I don’t really. I assumed it was because one is always concerned about being attacked by violent men. And whoever it was seemed very strong.”

  “I don’t think we can assume anything. Barehanded strangling would surely indicate a male attacker. However, anyone becomes much stronger when they employ any sort of a garrote to assist them.”

  “How do you know so much about such a nasty subject?”

  “One of my ex-husbands authored a thick volume entitled The Mechanics of Violence. He would read his favorite bits aloud in bed to me before turning out the lights.”

  “He sounds like a dreadful sort of man.”

  “He wasn’t my worst ex-husband but I did use his choice of bedtime story against him when I wanted a divorce. The judge saw things my way quite quickly when my lawyer read some of Tristram’s favorite passages aloud in court.” Beryl leaned in to peer closely at the darkening bruise around Ed’s throat. “You realize what this means, don’t you?”

  “It means I’m going to have a lie-in in the morning.” Edwina raised her glass to her lips and finished the brandy in one fluid gulp. Beryl saw her wince as she swallowed.

  “It means there really is something going on in Walmsley Parva. We’ve scared someone so terribly they’ve made an attempt on your life.”

  “You think this is because of the stories you told in Prudence’s shop this afternoon?”

  “What else could it be?”

  “It could be a coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe that and neither do you.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I should think it would be obvious. We are going to investigate.”