by Rachel Green
Meinwen pulled her in close and held her while Jennifer’s heavy sobs racked her frame, rocking her gently and stroking the back of her head. Dafydd stood to one side, looking at everything but the two women.
“There, there.” Meinwen shushed her friend. “Calm down. Have the police been called?”
“The police?” Jennifer raised her head from Meinwen’s chest. “It was them that told us he was dead. He wasn’t killed here, if that’s what you mean.”
“I see. Sorry.” Meinwen plucked the cloth from Jennifer’s hands and proceeded to dab at the maid’s eyes, cleaning away the debris of her crying. “Where then? Have the police got any clues?”
“Some, yes. They said they had several lines of inquiry.”
“That means they haven’t any suspects yet.”
“Oh they should. They really should.” Jennifer gripped Meinwen’s arm. “You should investigate this murder.”
“I can’t. It’s a police matter. I’m sure they’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“I’m sure they’d be only too pleased to have your help.” Jennifer let go to wipe at her eyes, a smile breaking through the tears. “Do come in. Mistress will be so pleased to know you’re on the case.”
“Well...” Meinwen looked over her shoulder at Dafydd, who remained unusually silent. “It would be an opportunity to give my condolences to Catherine.”
“Catherine?” Jennifer shook her head. “Not Catherine. She left. A couple of years ago.”
“But she and Richard were married.”
“Not proper married they weren’t. Not in the eyes of God and all. I know you give credence to all gods and faiths and whatnot, Meinwen but a registry office is no more a basis for a committed marriage than jumping over a broom, begging your pardon. Catherine upped and left within the year taking the money with her. She was nothing but a gold digger that one, despite all her airs and graces. Richard should have listened to the Mistress at the time. She knew her maidservants from her serving girls.”
“But...” Meinwen shook her head. “I don’t understand. Who is the mistress here, then?”
“Joan. Your remember, Robert’s sister-in-law.”
“I remember her very well. She didn’t like me very much.” Her heart sank. She wouldn’t get very far with a cantankerous older woman she’d once accused of stealing Robert’s silver. She’d been right, but that hadn’t made Joan any more pliable.
“She’s lovely once you get to know her. Let me show you into the parlor and tell her you’re here. She’ll be so pleased.” Jennifer went back into the house, opening the front door for the couple and closing it behind them. The house was unusually quiet for the number of people who worked there.
“This way.” Jennifer led them into the sitting room. It hadn’t changed at all since Meinwen has last visited. Three twin settees were grouped around a glass-topped coffee table, the fourth side occupied by a fireplace. Doorways led to the hall and the dining room and a window overlooked the front drive. An oak sideboard displayed Doulton figurines and a crystal tantalizer. “Who shall I say is calling?”
“What? Oh, this is Dafydd Thomas, a friend of mine from ’Dovey.”
“Okay, and are you still Jones?”
“Of course I am. As you pointed out, it’s not likely I’ll have got married since we last spoke, is it?”
“Sorry. I had to check. I can’t afford to give Mistress the wrong names, can I?”
“I suppose not.”
“Do make yourselves at home.” She moved a pace or two into the dining room and called out. “Susan? We have guests. I’m sure a pot of tea would be welcome.”
“Coming up.”
“Right. Susan will make you some tea while I go and inform Mistress you’re here.”
“Wait a moment, Jennifer. Who else lives here, then? How many moved on?”
“Well you’re bound to get fluctuations, of course, in a place like this. You can be sure of one thing in a poly household and that’s change.” She smiled at the contradiction. “Most of the people you know are still here. Amanda moved on after she’d recovered from her operation and we’ve had several girls come and go.”
“No men?”
Jennifer’s face clouded. “One. He fit in very well, or so we thought. He committed suicide a couple of weeks ago.”
“John...” Meinwen pretended to trawl through her memory. “Fenstone? I saw something about it in the Times. He lived here, did he?”
“He didn’t live in, no, but he was a lovely man. Always had a smile on his face. You would never have guessed he was unhappy. Anyway, time to gossip later. I’ll run up to Mistress.”
Left alone, Meinwen perched on one side of a settee, motioning to Dafydd to do the same. He dropped into the settee with the closest corner to her. “I thought she’d never stop crying.”
“She was always a sensitive soul, Jennifer. Seen more than her fair share of death, too. She’s a writer, you know.”
“She doesn’t look much like a writer.”
“And what do writers look like?”
“I don’t know. Bohemian? Big hats and long beards?”
“I think she’d be horrified to grow a beard.”
“I meant the men, obviously.” Dafydd leaned back, thought better of it and leaned forward again. “Are they all like that?”
“Like what? Who?”
“Pervy people. Are they all that intense?”
“Give her a break. Her master just died.”
“I suppose.”
“Here we are.” Another woman came through the door to the dining room. “Meinwen! She might have told me it was you.” She set the tray on the coffee table and motioned Meinwen to get up for a hug. “How lovely to see you. How are you getting on at the cottage?”
“Fine thanks. Er, Susan, this is Dafydd, a friend of mine. Dafydd? This is Susan Pargeter, my landlady.”
“And general Larches dogsbody.” Susan gave him a tight smile. “Lovely to meet you, despite the circumstances.”
“Likewise.” Dafydd half raised himself from the sofa and sank again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yes.” Her face clouded. “Poor Richard. I’ve known him since he was this high, you know.” She held her hand a few feet from the floor. “You don’t expect them to die young, do you?”
“No.” Meinwen reached across to touch her arm. “And so soon after another death too.”
“Another?” She frowned. “You mean John? Yes, that was awful.”
“I read about it in the paper. I didn’t know he was a resident here, though.”
“Here? He wasn’t. He’d stay once or twice a week but he has a little house on Ashgate Road.” Susan sat back. She’d changed since Meinwen had last seen her. Three years ago she’d been a haggard woman looking like she had the world on her shoulders. Now she was relaxed and happy. She’d cropped her long hair short, too. It gave her a boyish charm belying her years.
Meinwen sipped her tea. It was straight from the supermarket. A little bag of toxins topped up with cow’s milk but she swallowed both pride and tea and made an effort to smile. “Were you good friends?”
“Yes, I’d say so. I’d never have guessed he was suicidal though. He always seemed so happy. He never had an unkind word for anyone and so obliging for a man of his background.”
“His background?”
“Gay.” The word was pronounced silently, lip movements exaggerated like gossip during a sermon.
“You were intimate with him?”
“That’s right.” Susan picked up a biscuit and bit off a corner. She sighed.
“Despite the fact he was gay?”
“Yes. It doesn’t mean he didn’t like the company of women, though. We spent many a night digging into a bottle of elderberry wine and setting the world to rights.”
“And he slept with you?”
“Once or twice a week. Any port in a storm, as my old man used to say. And I was never one for taking no-entry signs very seriously.”
> Chapter 19
“Landlady? Really?” Dafydd didn’t speak until after Susan returned to the kitchen.
“Yes.” Meinwen shifted position to see through the open door into the dining room. “She wasn’t always so...forthright as that. She seems to have a bit more confidence now.”
“A bit more? I found out more about her in three minutes than I did in three years of going out with Myfanwy Tregarren.”
“Those two should get together. If I recall correctly, Myfanwy Tregarren liked people going in through the out door, too.”
“Really?” Dafydd’s mouth hung open. “Why am I always the last to know these things?”
“Because you’re a gentleman?” She patted him on the knee. “Seriously, though, Susan was so prim and proper when I first met her. Mind you, her mother had just died so she had an excuse.”
“Aye. You were prim and proper when your mam was still alive an’ all. I remember those dresses she used to make you wear.”
“The pinafores?” Meinwen shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I was the laughing stock of the sixth form. Is it any wonder I left home as soon as I could?”
“I used to fantasize about your long socks and knobbly knees.”
Meinwen pictured herself in the mirror. “I do not have knobbly knees.”
“Not any more you don’t. You’ve grown out of them. You don’t really have knees at all any more. Your thighs go as far as your feet.”
Meinwen flinched. The nickname “Thunder Thighs” had been hurtful when she was fifteen, and twenty years hadn’t blunted its sting. She thumped him, trying to make light of it. “Somebody will be sleeping in the stable tonight if they’re not careful.”
“You haven’t got a stable.
“I’ve got a wooden shed next to the compost heap.”
“You’d have to clear out all the rubbish first. What?”
Meinwen had held up her hand. “Listen. The phone’s ringing.”
“So?”
“So it could be the police with information.” Meinwen stepped to the doorway and looked into the hall. Jennifer was still upstairs and Susan hadn’t yet appeared from the kitchen. No one about. Should she answer it or not?
The decision was taken out of her hands when the sound was cut off midring. A muffled voice from behind the closed study door asked, “Hello?”
Meinwen stepped forward, pretending to look at the Pieta on the wall next to the study door, a large oil painting depicting Christ on the cross, a tearful Mary Magdalene washing his bloody feet with her tears. Its proximity to the study gave her the opportunity to eavesdrop.
“I don’t care.” The woman’s voice was one she recognized but couldn’t put a name to. “‘We have you covered,’ you said. ‘If he dies for any reason, the policy would pay out.’” It went silent for a moment. Presumably the person on the phone was talking.
“What does that matter? He was murdered. Who murdered him is up to the police to determine.”
“Are you all right, Meinwen?”
“What?” She looked up to see Jennifer standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh yes. I was just looking at this painting. Wasn’t it part of Sir Robert’s bequest?”
“That’s right.” Jennifer stood next to her to look at it. “Our Lady of Pity. Sir Robert gave it to Simon the night he died but with Simon still missing it’s never been moved. Technically, as his sister, it’s mine now but I’ve no desire to give it to that musty old church.”
“I can’t say I blame you. It looks like attendance has dropped since your brother...left. Father Brennan’s pleasant enough but he hasn’t got the sex appeal Simon had.”
“Dear Simon. He was quite dishy in that forbidden-fruit kind of way, wasn’t he? The women used to swoon over him and he knew it. He was always flirting.”
Meinwen stared up at the image of Christ. “Did he ever succumb to temptation?”
“Not that I ever knew. He wouldn’t have told me if he had. It would have been his parish and his soul if people had found out. Solemn vows and all that.”
“Quite.” Meinwen looked past her to the stairs. “Is Jean coming down?”
Jennifer grimaced. “Actually, she sends her regrets. She’s not feeling well after the news this morning. She hopes you’ll forgive her.”
“Of course.” Meinwen looked through the sitting room doorway. “Dafydd? Come on.”
“Coming.” He took a last swig of his tea and stood, reaching across to pick up Meinwen’s coat and bag.
“Thanks for the chat and the tea.” Meinwen pulled Jennifer into a hug. “I’ve missed having you around.”
“So have I but the Church owned the Rectory so I had to leave. I’m glad, too. I’d have never had the courage to come here if I’d stayed.”
“I’m glad you found somewhere that suited you.”
“Thanks.” Jennifer pulled away. “You’ll come to the funeral?”
“Yes, of course.” Meinwen turned to go, then turned back. “Richard wasn’t in any trouble, was he?”
“Of course not. The police have already asked us all this when they came round this morning. We’re all murder suspects again, but that’s nothing new. Are you going to investigate Richard’s death? Do say you will. You were so clever last time. I based a character in one of my books on you.”
“Oh? Which one?”
“Mildred Powell in The Spinster Detective. It was number one in the romantic crime chart for four weeks.”
“Fantastic! I’ll have to get a copy.”
“I don’t think it would be to your taste, I’m afraid. It gets a bit steamy under the collar.”
Meinwen winked, a nod of her head indicating Dafydd. “I think I can cope with that.”
“Oh? Are you and him...” Jennifer waggled her fingers.
Meinwen snorted with laughter. “A little bit, yeah. That’s why he’s walking sideways.”
“If you could show a little decorum...” Jean Markhew trod slowly down the stairs, holding onto the bannister with one hand and a hospital-issue cane in the other. “There has been a death in the family and I can hear your raucous shrieking all the way in the east wing.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Markhew.” Meinwen bobbed a curtsey purely out of habit, as if she was talking to one of her teachers from school. “My sincere condolences on your loss. Richard was–”
“What Richard was or was not is none of your concern. I didn’t like you three years ago and I don’t like you now. Whatever makes you think I’d let you poke your nose into our family business again?”
“But...”Meinwen frowned. “I did you all a service last time. I found your brother-in-law’s killer and cleared Richard’s name.”
“Did you honestly think you could come back here and declare you’d investigate my nephew’s murder and all would be right with the world?” Jean reached the bottom of the stairs and thumped her heavy cane on the floor. “You have another thing coming, Meinwen Jones. I haven’t forgotten the arrogance you displayed last time we met. ‘We’ve all got secrets’ you used to say, then accused me of stealing from my brother. I’ve got news for you. You’re not welcome here. Get out. You can come to the funeral if you must. God knows Richard thought well of you, but the feeling extends no further and now this is my house.” She turned to Jennifer “Kindly show this...woman out.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You’re a right old cow aren’t you?” Dafydd stepped in front of Meinwen and indicated her with a nod of the head. “She had nothing but respect for you when she told me about this place. Nothing but praise for the way you handled yourself in the wake of your brother’s death. Well, missus. The intervening period has soured you like gristle in vinegar. I was looking forward to meeting you. Now I wish I hadn’t.”
The study door was jerked open and a young woman came out. She looked to be in her early twenties, stick thin with a shock of black-and-purple hair. “How dare you talk to mummy like that. Get out before I call the police.” She turned to Meinwen. “You’d b
etter go, too, and please don’t trouble yourself to ever come here again.”
Meinwen’s face fell. “Mary?”
Chapter 20
“I don’t think I’ve ever been spoken to like that. Not even by Pastor Sin when we were kids.” Meinwen climbed into the passenger side of the van, smoothing down her skirt with one hand while she reached for the seat belt with the other. “Honestly, They think they’re so high and mighty and underneath it all they’re all petty little deviants scheming and plotting like the best of ’em.”
“She was a bit unreasonable, I thought. She certainly has a grudge against you, though. Was she really stealing from her brother?”
“Brother-in-law, yes. She was selling his antique silverware online one piece at a time and pocketing the money. Unbeknownst to her he was buying them back again under an assumed name and address though he missed a few of the lots. Some of his favorite pieces went abroad.”
“If he knew she was taking them, why didn’t he confront her?” Dafydd glanced back at the house as he started the engine. “Look! She’s watching from the bedroom window to make sure we leave.”
Meinwen dipped forward to look out of the windscreen. “Maybe. I can’t tell who that is, thanks to the angle and the net curtain. It might be her.” She sat back, reviewing the confrontation. Jean had been sour last time but she could never have predicted her vehemence now. “It was all a matter of pride. She wouldn’t ask Sir Robert for money, and he wouldn’t insult her by just giving it, so he pretended not to notice the missing silverware.”
“So she was a thief, then. You were right.”
“She’ll never admit it, and Sir Robert is dead. It’s all in the past now.”
“And now the son is dead too.” He put the van in reverse and began to back out of the drive. “What a family!”
“Yes. I was surprised to find Catherine had left him. I really liked her. I thought theirs was the sort of love that would last forever.”
“Nothing lasts forever.”
“More than a year, I meant. You’d have liked her. She was young and sweet. The sort of girl who reads romance novels in a cornfield.”