Muffins and Mourning Tea (Oxford Tearoom Mysteries ~ Book 5)

by H. Y. Hanna

  I caught my breath, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. Then I felt my body go limp as the woman walked past Devlin and stopped at the table beyond his. I realised belatedly that there was a man sitting there. He was wearing a dark brown sweater that blended with the wood of the table and benches, and he had been hunched over his phone, which was why I had barely noticed him.

  “Darling, have you been waiting long?” she asked him.

  “A bit, but that’s okay—I was catching up on some emails…”

  I let out the breath I had been holding, feeling suddenly silly and ridiculous. What was I doing, skulking around like this? I should have just walked over to Devlin, said hello, and asked who he was waiting for. But just as I was about to stand up, a new figure came around the side of the pub: Damian Heath. Devlin put a hand up and the boy came rapidly towards him.

  I felt a wave of relief mixed with shame. Of course! Devlin was meeting a suspect, not some woman. How could I even have thought that of him? I scooted along the wall until I was at the very end, which was right next to their table, and strained my ears to listen to their conversation.

  Damian dropped into the seat next to Devlin and looked surprised as the latter pushed a pint of beer towards him.

  “How come we’re meeting here and not at the college or the police station?” he asked suspiciously.

  Devlin’s voice was warm, friendly. “I thought this would be nicer and, since you’re helping me with enquiries, I thought the least I could do was buy you a drink.”

  “Don’t know how else I can help you—I’ve told you everything I know,” said Damian sullenly.

  “Well, you know how these things are… We have to go over the details again. It’s a pain but it’s got to be done. Cheers.” Devlin raised his glass.

  The boy hesitated, then raised his own glass and drank. After a moment, he put the beer down and I saw him relax slightly. “So… what do you want to ask me?”

  “Well, I just need to go over the details of the day before May Day. You said in your statement that you were in your room all morning, working on an essay?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. That was when Tanya came barging in and started screeching at Charlie like a banshee.”

  “And then afterwards?”

  “I told you—I was pretty much in my room all day. Charlie and Tanya were having this fancy dress party that night and there were loads of people coming in and out. Charlie had bought a bunch of party props and stuff like that and everyone was coming to help themselves.”

  “And then?”

  “Well, I got sick of all the noise and stuff in the late afternoon, and I went out for a bit of a wander, you know, to get some fresh air. And then I went back, went to dinner in Hall, and then got into my costume and went to the party. It was in Tanya’s room. I stayed there till around twelve-thirty and then came back to my own room and crashed.”

  “Where did you go when you went out for this ‘wander’?”

  The boy avoided Devlin’s gaze. “I… um… just into town. I walked up to Carfax and then turned around and went back.”

  “Did you buy anything?”

  “No, I just wanted to get some air.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t walk in a different direction… like, say, down past Christ Church Meadow to the college boathouses?” Devlin’s voice was still friendly but there was a hint of steel in it now.

  Damian jerked slightly. “I… no, no—I told you, I walked into town.”

  “And what time was that?”

  “Uh… must have been around five-thirty, six o’clock.”

  Devlin didn’t say anything for a moment, then he gave a sigh and leaned forwards slightly. “Damian… I’m trying to help you, mate. I’m giving you the chance to correct any… discrepancies in your previous statement. This is just a friendly chat, remember—we’re not in a police interview room. If there’s something you didn’t like to mention before, now would be a good time to tell me.”

  Damian hesitated, then shook his head.

  Devlin’s voice hardened and he abandoned his friendly manner. “In that case, you can explain to me why you’re lying. I have witnesses who say they saw you and Charlie down by the college boathouse at around six that evening—the same time when you insist that you were walking into town.”

  Damian swallowed and I saw his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I… I…”

  “The witnesses also say that you and Charlie were having a massive bust-up,” Devlin continued relentlessly.

  “Okay, yeah, we were there,” Damian admitted. “Charlie texted me just as I was leaving the college for my walk. He said he wanted to speak to me about something. But he didn’t want to do it in college, so we agreed to meet down by the boathouse. But the… the argument was nothing—”

  “It didn’t sound like nothing to the witnesses who overheard you,” said Devlin. “Not when Charlie was threatening to report you to the police.”

  Damian shifted in his seat, looking like he wanted to jump up and run away.

  “It was about Tanya, wasn’t it?” Devlin pressed.

  “Yeah, it was about that bloody cow,” Damian burst out. “It was the only thing we ever argued about, okay? Things were great between Charlie and me until Tanya Koskov came along,” he said bitterly.

  “So what was the fight about? Why did Charlie say you were taking advantage of a vulnerable girl?”

  Damian looked uneasy. “It was nothing, I tell you! Charlie just got his knickers in a twist, that’s all. It had nothing to do with his murder.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” said Devlin. “I repeat, Damian, what were you fighting about?”

  “It… It was…” Damian licked his lips several times, his eyes darting around. “I told you, it was nothing—I just… I just offered Tanya a spliff and Charlie found out about it and cut up rough.”

  “A spliff?”

  “Yeah, you know—a joint, weed, hash…”

  “You were trying to get Tanya into drugs?”

  “Hey!” Damian held his hands up in the classic surrender position. “No, no! It wasn’t heroin or cocaine or something—it was just a bit of marijuana. I don’t do hard drugs, okay? Everyone smokes a bit of weed at university.”

  “Not everyone,” said Devlin dryly. “And I take it that Charlie obviously didn’t.”

  Damian shuffled his feet. “Yeah, well…”

  Devlin leaned back, narrowing his eyes. “Charlie was your best friend. It seems an extreme reaction, threatening to report you to the police just for offering a bit of marijuana.”

  “Well, you didn’t know Charlie. He was a bit of a stuffed shirt that way. I mean, he liked to party and he liked to drink but he was old-fashioned about some things, especially about girls. He had this idea that they had to be protected and all that…” He gave a scornful laugh. “Protect Tanya? You’re more likely to need protection from her!”

  “You really dislike Tanya Koskov, don’t you?”

  Damian gave a shrug. “She’s a stuck-up cow with more money than she deserves.”

  “And what about your friend, Charlie? He was very wealthy too. Must have been tough for you, living next to him, seeing all the things that he could afford, always struggling to keep up… were you jealous of him?”

  “No, I wasn’t,” snapped Damian. “Charlie was cool, okay? He never rubbed his money in your face and he wasn’t stuck up like Tanya. He was really generous—he’d give me gifts all the time and… and lend me money if I needed it. He was a good mate.” His voice cracked slightly.

  “But this ‘good mate’ was threatening to report you, which could have meant being expelled from the university, or even a criminal conviction. Didn’t you feel betrayed? And all because of a girl that you despised? You must have been really bitter and angry—and scared. All very good motives to murder Charlie to prevent him exposing you and to get revenge…”

  “No!” Damian cried. He gave Devlin a fierce look. “No, that’s bollocks! I was angry, yes,
but the person I was angry at was Tanya, not Charlie. And anyway, I knew him… he wouldn’t have really reported me. He was my friend and he wouldn’t have done that to me. And likewise—I would never have hurt him.” He paused, then added earnestly, “Look, if you don’t believe me, then look at it from a cold-blooded point of view. It would have been stupid of me to kill Charlie. Having him around was much better for me, whereas now he’s gone… well, basically, I’m not going to have a rich friend to sponge off anymore. It’s not like I get any money from his will or something!”

  I winced slightly as I heard those words, suddenly reminded of Miriam Hopkins and the fact that she was still a suspect in this murder case too. Damian was right. He didn’t stand to gain from Charlie’s death—if anything, he’d be killing off the golden goose. Miriam Hopkins, on the other hand, gained a lot from Charlie’s death…

  A shrill ringing pierced the air. Devlin took out his phone and answered it curtly. After a moment, he hung up.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said to Damian, rising from the table. “But I might want to speak to you again.”

  “Yeah, all right…” said Damian, jumping up also. He couldn’t keep the relief and elation out of his voice and I saw Devlin narrow his blue eyes thoughtfully.

  “You’re still keeping something back from me, Damian,” said Devlin suddenly. “You’ve got my card and you know how to contact me. I suggest you come forward and tell me what it is of your own accord before I discover it myself…”

  With those ominous parting words, Devlin turned and walked away from the table. I jerked back and scurried behind a couple of parked bicycles. Crouching over my shoe, I pretended to tie my laces, keeping my face turned away as he strode past me, going back up the lane towards St Aldate’s. But even so, Devlin would definitely have noticed me if his phone hadn’t rung again just as he was walking past and he was distracted as he answered it. I could hear his voice getting fainter as he walked back out to the main street.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and slowly stood up, stretching my cramped muscles. My thighs were protesting and one foot had gone slightly numb. I rotated my ankle, grimacing as feeling came back into the foot, then glanced quickly back towards the pub. Damian was just leaving the beer garden and thankfully was not looking my way. He was headed down the lane in the opposite direction, back the way he had come.

  I hesitated for a moment. I could probably still catch up with Devlin if I ran. On the other hand… I looked back to where Damian’s figure was just disappearing around the pub. Making a sudden decision, I turned and ran after him instead.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I’d assumed that Damian would head back to Haverton College, taking the back route along Merton Street, which came out onto the High Street just by his college. However, to my surprise, he left Merton Street and took the narrow lane that led towards Christ Church Meadow and joined up with Dead Man’s Walk. I frowned, confused at his actions. Dead Man’s Walk led to Rose Lane, which came out onto the High Street much farther down. Down by Magdalen College and the bridge, in fact. Was that where Damian was headed?

  I followed him as close as I dared—which wasn’t very close, since Dead Man’s Walk was fairly exposed and, if he turned around, he would definitely see me if I didn’t keep my distance. And thank goodness I did keep my distance, because when Damian reached the end of Dead Man’s Walk, he stopped and threw a furtive look around. I dropped down instantly and did my shoelace-tying trick again. When I dared to look up, I was surprised to see that he had taken the right fork, which led down towards the meadow.

  Christ Church Meadow was shaped roughly like an upside-down triangle, with the tip at the bottom touching the River Thames. It was bordered on three sides by lovely walks, the widest being the Broad Walk, which ran horizontally across the north side of the meadow (or the “base” of the upside-down triangle) and also parallel to Dead Man’s Walk. That was the route I had taken on May morning. On the east side, the River Cherwell bordered the meadow, a small tributary which started up in north Oxfordshire, ran under Magdalen Bridge, and meandered down to join the Thames. There was a narrow path that ran between the meadow and the Cherwell, known as the Christ Church Meadow Walk, and this was the path that Damian was making for now.

  I knew that path—I’d often walked there as a student when I wanted a peaceful stroll on a Sunday morning. It was a beautiful route, with the serene Cherwell on one side and the open meadow on the other. Trees growing along the banks of the river arched their branches over the path and formed an elegant avenue. In the height of summer, the Cherwell was popular with punters steering the long, narrow wooden boats so iconic to Oxford and Cambridge, but today the river seemed empty, probably because of the grey weather and slight nip in the air. The path was unpaved and could be muddy in wet weather, particularly as Christ Church Meadow was a flood meadow and turned into a marshland during the wet months of winter. Thankfully the path ran along a raised strip of land, which sloped down to the Cherwell on one side and to a ditch alongside the meadow on the other.

  I followed Damian discreetly, wondering why he had come to this secluded walk. Perhaps he simply fancied a stroll through some greenery, but somehow I felt that there was a purposeful air to his manner. I was proven right a few moments later when I saw him veering off towards the ditch which ran alongside the right side of the path. He paused and looked over his shoulder, and I just had time to duck around the side of a tree trunk.

  I thought for a moment that he had seen me, but thankfully the winding path hid me from view. When I peeked around the trunk, he had turned around again and was taking a few steps off the path and down into the ditch. I frowned. What is he doing? I hesitated, then ran lightly forwards, trying to keep behind the line of trees, until I was level with him, but on the other side of the path, beside the river. I huddled as best I could behind a tree trunk. It was a pretty narrow one and Damian would have been sure to see me if he looked around properly, but he seemed to be too intent on what he was doing. He had crouched down in the ditch and looked like he was searching for something.

  I craned my neck but couldn’t see what he was doing. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to go closer. If he looked up and saw me, well, I would just pretend that I happened to be walking here too. After all, it was a public pathway.

  Slowly, I crossed the path and crept towards the ditch, trying to peer over Damian’s shoulder. He had his back to me and was crouched down next to the tall grasses and bushes that grew in the ditch. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but, from his posture, it looked like one hand was tucked against his body and the other was reaching forwards, groping in the undergrowth.

  Then something snapped under my foot and there was a loud CRACK!

  Damien whipped around, then teetered on his heels and lost his balance. His arms splayed out and he fell backwards into the ditch, by a pool of muddy water. There was a loud splash.

  He looked up and saw me, and I saw his eyes widen with dismay—and fear.

  “Sorry!” I said, giving him an innocent smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just wondering what you were doing?”

  “Uh… nothing,” he said, scrambling to his feet. He glanced quickly at the pool of muddy water, then dusted off the seat of his jeans and took a step away from me.

  I pressed on. “Then why did you go down into the ditch? You looked like you were searching for something.”

  He scowled at me. “Nothing, I tell you! I wasn’t searching for anything. I… I just thought I saw something shiny… I thought someone might have dropped something valuable so I went down to check it out.”

  Yeah, right, a likely story. “Did you find anything?” I asked.

  “No, nothing,” he mumbled. “Must have been a trick of the light. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Late for a lecture…” And without another word, he turned and hurried off.

  I stood watching his retreating figure as it disappeared into the distance. Something was nagging me—something about the s
cene just now—but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I felt like there was something staring me in the face, some important clue I was missing…

  What had Damian really been doing? I looked thoughtfully back at the ditch and hunkered down myself to look in the undergrowth. I pushed aside the long grass, being careful not to step into the muddy pool of water. I could see nothing. If Damien had been searching for something, it wasn’t here. I stood up again and dusted off my hands, then, with a sigh, turned and headed back towards town.

  ***

  “Gemma? Did you hear what I said?”

  I gave a guilty start and refocused on Cassie across the table. “Sorry, Cass—I missed the last bit. Do you mind repeating it?

  My best friend rolled her eyes. “You haven’t been listening to a thing I said, have you? You’re miles away!”

  “Sorry, sorry!” I reached across the table and pulled the pieces of paper towards me. They were various designs for the tearoom website which Cassie had been eager to show me. She had rung me just as I was starting towards home from Christ Church Meadow and suggested that we meet at a café in town. But once we’d got here, I found myself struggling to keep my mind on things like search engine optimisation and website meta data.

  “What are you so preoccupied about?” demanded Cassie. “That thing with Devlin again?”

  “Oh, no.” I gave an embarrassed smile. “I think you were right—I was just being silly and paranoid.”

  “So what were you thinking about then?”

  “About the May Day murder,” I confessed. “I just can’t get it out of my mind. I keep going over the suspects in my head and it all feels so… so convoluted!”

  “Convoluted?” Cassie grinned. “Well, aren’t all murder cases convoluted? Otherwise the police would have caught the killer already.”

  “Yes, but what I mean is… well, usually there’s one suspect who seems stronger than the rest, who you feel sure is the killer and you’ve just got to find the evidence to prove it. But this time…” I spread my hands helplessly. “They all seem to be equally likely—and also equally unlikely!”