The Green Remains (The Nora Tierney Mysteries Book 2)

by Marni Graff

  “Yes, Mr. Jenkins, I have a direct pipeline, what with our Miss Tierney here. Clear access to the investigation team, too. The way these bodies keep piling up—” He lowered his voice and spoke directly into his mobile. “I’ve heard rumors of a serial killer—who can say what will happen next? But I can guarantee People and Places will have an exclusive article from my unique, on-the-spot perspective.”

  Tony was confident any news would reach his ears before it reached Old Jenks, and he was bored without Glenn Hackney to impress. He took out his Lake District guidebook and paged through it. There were so many attractions in the area, and he hovered over the pages on Beatrix Potters’ Hill Top cottage as a spot to visit the next day. In the afternoon, he might give the Windermere Steamboat Museum a shout. A few pictures and notes, and he’d have a feature article waiting to be written down the road. While he awaited new developments, he might as well enjoy himself.

  *

  10:30 PM

  Nora woke with a jerk. She’d dozed off, this time on her bed with her list of names open beside her. Checking the clock on her nightstand, she thought Val would be in from her evening snooping. Nora decided to call before she fell asleep again.

  To her relief, Val answered on the third ring. “Just got in, and I have one word for you, Yankee: smar-r-r-my.”

  It was good to hear her friend’s voice. She missed Val. “I agree, Val. I thought he might show up, since he left here this morning.”

  “I hung around The Blue Virgin right after the cooperative closed. The club’s just not the same, I don’t mind telling you that.”

  “I know you miss Bryn, Valentine.”

  There was a pause, and Val continued. “I was actually thinking of leaving and letting you down when in he walks, very full of himself. Just the way I remembered from the travel agency, smug and too much vanilla, like a bloody ice cream soda. But I know the lad he started to chat up, so it made going over easy.”

  She described the conversation, which consisted mainly of Glenn trying to lure the fellow home for the night. “He can’t dress in those expensive clothes and have that kind of a watch on his salary, unless I have seriously underrated the income of a travel agent. He’s an arrogant wanker, isn’t he?”

  Nora agreed. “Then where does his money come from? Family? Or ill-gotten gains?”

  “He comes across all mysterious, as though he has this big secret. And another thing: No one there knew Keith Clarendon when I dropped his name into conversations, so I think it’s unlikely he was a part of that scene.”

  “So you don’t feel it was his homosexuality that Keith held over his head or vice versa?”

  “This cheeky one?” Val snorted. “No, Yankee, some wear their sexual orientation on their sleeve, and this one’s a queen through and through. I don’t suspect he’s ever tried to hide it. He revels in it.”

  Nora sighed. “I still don’t know where the other two deaths fit in.”

  “Other two?” Val shrieked. “Are you safe there, Nora?”

  Nora ignored her and explained about Jack Halsey and Daniel Rowley. “So if Glenn’s involved, it must revolve around something else.” She described the tour guide admitting Daniel and Jack were likely to be up to no good. “But I couldn’t get much else out of her. She seemed to think I was an ugly American.”

  “You’re a pussycat. But it sounds to me like Keith was the kind of guy who’d have no problem telling someone to piss off, whether it was Daniel, Jack or Glenn. Glenn’s not nice, but I think you need another angle for murder, Nora.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, with Val describing an art installation she was getting ready to mount in Manchester. “I was thinking I’d drive to you tomorrow and spend the night. I want to see you in all your glory before you deliver.”

  “I’d love that, Val. When would you get here?”

  “Late afternoon. I have to sort out a few things at the cooperative first.”

  “Perfect.” Nora looked forward to seeing her friend. And Val’s late arrival would leave her plenty of time for the interview she wanted to cram in.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  “Everybody agreed with Mrs. Baskett that her baby was a most remarkable child.”

  — Joyce Cary, A Fearful Joy

  Thursday, 28th October

  9 AM

  Simon helped Agnes perch on a stool, back in control of her kitchen once more.

  “Welcome back!” Kate and Nora chorused a fanfare of good wishes. Darby leapt up to be petted. Sally Kincaid, who had been substituting for Agnes, beamed. A good-natured woman with a large mole just under her chin, she’d offered to drive Agnes in.

  Simon noted Agnes wore more makeup than usual and had combed her hair over her stitches, but her smile was wider than ever.

  She gave the room a searching look. “Very neat and clean, Sally, thank you very much.”

  “Agnes, you’re only here to supervise, remember,” Kate warned. “Sally will stay through next Monday, and you’re to let her do the real work.”

  Agnes nodded, and Sally smiled sweetly. Simon guessed Sally was eager to hear Agnes’ firsthand account of the attack. He had his own business to get in order before Nora’s surprise, and he left the women chatting in the kitchen.

  Going to the desk, he set about making up a bank deposit, noting the money in the cash drawer was correct. He wondered how much of this was due to the absence of Daniel Rowley. Consulting the registration book, he saw a large party was set to arrive Sunday. Thank goodness. That would help increase the deposits. Either they hadn’t heard about events in Bowness or didn’t care.

  Alone for the moment, Simon sat back and reflected on Nora and her baby. Last summer in Oxford, when he’d told Nora he loved her and the baby as well, he’d never imagined they wouldn’t have cemented their relationship by now. But she continued to hold him at arm’s length, giving in to small shows of affection here and there. He knew this wasn’t the time to press her, but he was frustrated. Bloody awful to be in love with a pregnant woman when the child wasn’t his.

  He thought about the classes he and Kate had gone to with Nora at the health centre. The majority of the other women had husbands or partners with them; Nora was the only one with two attendants. She’d introduced them as her good friends, and while he hadn’t really cared, he’d seen the looks from other couples and had understood what several must have been thinking: If he’s the father, where does the other gal fit in? He’d enjoyed learning about the physical side of the delivery process, though. Practicing the breathing techniques had made them all laugh more than once.

  “Babies always look so charming in other women’s arms, but they’re really helpless, aren’t they?” Nora had mused on the way home from their last class. “What if I don’t take to mothering?”

  Simon had jumped in to calm her. “You’ll figure it out, Nora. Babies have a magnetic appeal, like puppies—even the funny-looking ones are endearing.”

  Nora had laughed. “Are you saying my baby will be ugly, Mr. Ramsey?”

  “Not at all,” he had hastened to assure her.

  “I’d think babies who are endearing to outsiders are absolutely gorgeous to their mothers,” Kate had stated. “They seduce us with their vulnerability. Don’t new mums call their little ones the prettiest, cutest, most clever babies ever born?”

  “Well—” Nora hadn’t been convinced.

  “Surely a woman is built for this kind of thing,” Simon had insisted. “They have breasts to feed their young and the equipment to have carried them in the first place.” An image of his one coupling with Nora, with her small but full breasts dotted with freckles, had risen before him and he’d felt a jolt of desire.

  “That sounds terribly sexist, Simon. Reducing us to incubators,” Kate had chided.


  “What about mothers who move cars off their children, do almost anything to save them?” Nora had asked. “Do you suppose that’s something that grows inside of you, too?”

  Simon had raised a hand in mock resignation. “As my sister has pointed out, you are obviously asking the wrong person.”

  Kate had gracefully ended the conversation. “Maybe that’s why pregnancy takes nine months—time for you to get used to the whole idea.”

  Nora had become introspective, and then they’d arrived home.

  Simon could only imagine Nora’s thoughts today. The day after finishing the prep classes, Nora had found Keith’s body, unraveling into this string of deaths that had startled their peaceful corner of the world. He could only hope it was all about to be over.

  *

  1:15 PM

  This time, Nora wore her own clothes. After all, she’d already met the object of today’s inquiry. Consulting the address she’d looked up, she walked a few streets past The Scarlet Wench and turned up a side road. She hoped her timing would work out as she stopped before a cottage, the front yard littered with children’s toys. This must be the place.

  Opening the gate, Nora strode to the yellow front door and knocked briskly; a wreath of fall leaves adorned it. A moment later, Jodie Halsey opened it. Nora saw the look of recognition cross her face.

  “Hello.” Jodie Halsey turned and looked over her shoulder into her home.

  Gauging if the inside was neat enough for company, Nora decided. “Hi, Mrs. Halsey. I was out walking and wanted to see how Andy was doing.” She put one hand on her stomach, drawing emphasis to her bulk. “Boy, that last hill was a killer.”

  Jodie stepped aside. “Would you like to come in for a drink? Andy’s napping. And call me Jodie.”

  Bingo. “That’s very kind of you. I’m Nora.” She stepped over the sill and into the bright room that ran the entire side of the house and ended in a small kitchen. “I’d love a glass of water.”

  “Come on through.” Jodie led the way to a round table. She opened the refrigerator door. “I have apple juice if you’d rather.”

  “Water’s fine, really,” Nora said, sitting down. “I’m sorry about your father-in-law.” She flashed on the image of the dead Jack Halsey and shook it off.

  Jodie bit her lip. “Sorry you had to see him like that, but I’m glad you found Andy.” She brought two glasses of ice water to the table and put one in front of Nora, then sat down. “The boy’s having a hard time understanding he won’t see Grampa Jack anymore.”

  “I can’t imagine explaining death to a child,” Nora agreed. Another situation she had no idea how to handle.

  “Honestly, Jack could drive me crazy, but I hate the way he died. My husband’s taking it pretty bad. Jack wasn’t a bad person; he just liked his drink too much.”

  Nora nodded. “The police any closer to finding out what happened?”

  Jodie sipped her water. “Not that they’ve told me, that’s for sure. All I know is that he got some kind of poison into him. And then Daniel, too—” She shuddered.

  “I knew Daniel from Ramsey Lodge,” Nora said. That was sort of true. “Who would have wanted them both to die?”

  Jodie looked at the stairs to be certain Andy wasn’t lurking. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but I’ll tell you one thing: If Daniel Rowley was involved, it can’t have been a good thing.”

  *

  4 PM

  Nora worked in her room before Val arrived. Jodie Halsey seemed like a nice woman, but she had added little to Nora’s knowledge that would help her uncover the murderer. She knew from personal experience that Daniel Rowley’s presence was never very appreciated. What she needed was more local knowledge to investigate “the mystery of the three deaths,” which she thought sounded like the title of a Nancy Drew book, and to finish Keith’s manuscript.

  She decided to see if the Cumbrian Chatter was online, and was pleasantly surprised to find she could access its archives for the past six months. She spent almost an hour reading past issues, learning more than she’d ever wanted about daily life in the Bowness-Windermere area.

  Daniel Rowley had been warned off twice in the last six months for disturbing the peace by singing loudly in the streets after closing down The Scarlet Wench. That was a disappointment. She’d hoped to find a tie to more significant illegal activity.

  She found her own name in a March issue, when she had been mentioned as the winner of the essay contest that was “the creation of Bowness’ own Keith Clarendon.” There was no mention of Jack Halsey at all.

  Nora decided it was time to go back to Keith’s manuscript. She’d left off at his description of the Lake District National Park.

  The Lake District National Park actually encompasses more than 885 square miles and receives more than 14 million visitors a year. A large amount of acreage is privately owned. Landowners assist the National Park staff to keep more than 1,800 miles of footpaths in use.

  Nora rubbed her lower back. Perhaps this was where the connection to Keith and Rowley lay, she thought: in a dispute over keeping the Clarendon estate in the National Park, which would affect Rowley’s hut. Maybe Jack Halsey was just a man who got in the way. But she kept coming back to the same circular thought: If Daniel was her prime suspect for Keith’s murder, he seemed to have put himself out of the running.

  She thought of the plant that produced such a terrible poison. Despite its rarity, there were many people who could have had access to it. Keith may have been the first victim, but it seemed increasingly likely that Jack Halsey and Daniel Rowley had been given the same poison.

  Daniel had worked at Clarendon Hall, enhancing his opportunity to poison Keith’s tea. Daniel had also worked at Ramsey Lodge, the link to the assault on Agnes, which might have been intended for Nora. When she recalled the day he’d deliberately run her down with his bicycle, a tremor ran through Nora’s body.

  She sat back as a new thought occurred to her: What if there had been two murderers at work? Daniel might have murdered Keith, and someone who’d known about it might have then seen fit to get rid of Daniel; Jack’s death was simply a tragic result of being Daniel’s friend. Nora was certain all the men knew their murderer. Nora felt a new determination to clear Simon’s name and extinguish any hypotheses of Ramsey Lodge’s involvement. No one would be safe while a murderer walked free.

  There was a tap at the door, and Val Rogan burst into Nora’s room.

  “Yankee, I can barely get my arms around you,” Val squealed as the two friends embraced.

  “I’m so glad to see you.” Nora felt her eyes well with tears. She’d missed her friend and ally.

  *

  7:20 PM

  At dinner, Val was quickly drawn into their lighthearted conversation, and Nora thought they all needed the diversion. Val and Simon had met last summer in Oxford and had gotten on well; now Kate was warming quickly to Nora’s friend. It was Kate’s suggestion to head to Nora’s room to look at the crib that needed to be put together.

  “We might as well do something constructive,” she said. “Agnes will get off early tonight.”

  They trouped down the hall and into Nora’s room. Val admired Simon’s cloud painting and Nora’s choice of wall color.

  Simon inspected the box containing the crib and opened it. He pulled out the instructions and started to read. “I think this will go up in a jiffy.”

  Kate said, “We’ll do it now. I’ll get the tools.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Val said.

  “We really don’t have to do this now,” Nora protested.

  Val poked Nora’s stomach. “Your mum is stubborn, baby.”

  “Nonsense,” Kate proclaimed. “Simon and I are old hands at this. Go show Val the lake.
She didn’t drive all this way not to have you to herself for a few minutes.”

  Nora had her mouth open to argue when Simon said, “Nora, there’s hardly room in this alcove for four and a half people and an assembly project. Take Val across the road to see the quay at night, and we’ll get this sorted.”

  “But you’ve already done so much,” Nora said.

  “Come on, Yankee, follow orders,” Val said, picking up Nora’s jumper and dragging her out of the room and back through the dining room. The dining room was deserted but for Darby, asleep under a table. “We’ll take Darby with us.”

  At the sound of his name, the terrier woke and was at Nora’s side in an instant. Val put on her jacket and secured him to the leash Nora pointed out, hanging by the desk.

  Nora directed them down the path and across the road. The sun had gone down, and the quay was lit up for the evening. A handful of tourists wandered about. Nora pointed out the bench she liked to sit on and pulled her sweater around her. There was a light breeze off the lake, and the two friends sat down and watched the water rippling.

  Nora squeezed Val’s hand. “Thanks for coming. I know it’s out of your way.

  Val rubbed her hand over Nora’s stomach. “I had to see you—it’s an image to torment you with after you give birth. How are you feeling?”