Miss Seeton Undercover (A Miss Seeton Mystery Book 17)

by Hamilton Crane

  “Oh, dear, poor Stan—though it must be said that one would have hoped for—that is, it is surprising he allowed himself ...” Miss Seeton blushed. Even to think of criticising one who was almost a member of one’s family—yet dear Martha had been so much more than critical ...

  “It was, I fear, all because of the conkers,” began Martha’s employer, who had received an unexpected visit from her henchwoman on Saturday evening, once she had returned from afternoon tea with Miss Wicks. “It is no doubt foolish to say so now, but ...” She sighed. “Had I but known, you see, I could perhaps have persuaded him to enter them in the Show after all, rather than ... not, of course, that it is a—a competition so much as decoration of the church, even if displays from—from both villages are used. Decani,” said Miss Seeton, sighing again, “and cantoris,” referring to the two sides of the church on which, for important services of the Christian year, the two congregations, enforcedly amalgamated, would sit doggedly apart.

  “But,” she continued, with another sigh, “in all the ... the regrettable confusion at the Show, poor Stan received a black eye, and became—understandably, one has to say—annoyed about it. And, so Martha told me, lost his temper completely. He was justifiably proud of his year’s work,” lamented Miss Seeton. “And such events do a great deal to foster the community spirit, which is so very important—except, of course, that in the case of Murreystone one has to concede ... and he refused ...”

  “Say no more,” said Mel, grinning. “I get the picture: no Seeton-Bloomer produce on display, right? Which means at least it isn’t Stan’s fault, or yours, that Jeremy Froste got ants in his pants in the middle of the service. Hardly sang a note, they’re saying, just sat and goggled—and then he didn’t wait to shake the vicar’s hand before doing a bunk with young Bethan, which I admit’s a bit off, but I wouldn’t call it downright insulting. Last seen heading over the canal bridge at top speed, I gather, and that flash car of theirs should be able to speed pretty well. Leaving Mrs. Skinner and Mrs. Henderson rather peeved, and of course it’s all backfired on their husbands, and their friends, and ...”

  “And it’s too much!” came an explosion from over their heads, which made them both jump. They looked up. There, pink-cheeked and rumple-haired, was Doris, with menus in her hand and a sparkle in her eye. “A downright disgrace, that’s what it is, and I don’t care who knows it!”

  Without waiting to enquire whether they wanted pre-prandial drinks, she thrust the menus under their astonished noses. “An insult,” said Doris, fuming. “That Murreystone lot—done it on purpose, that’s what they’ve done!”

  “Done what?” demanded Mel. Miss Seeton looked puzzled, but did not say anything, though even if she’d wanted to, there would hardly have been time.

  “Apples!” said Doris, fuming still more. “What did they devils do on Saturday, but sneak some precious apple nobody had ever even heard of into church with the decorations—sneaky enough not to put it in the Show, that’s Murreystone for you, first the conkers and now this ...”

  As she paused to draw breath, Mel slipped in a question. “Another Plummergen Peculier?”

  “A Murreystone Marvel,” moaned Doris. “Just the one! Stuck it right under his nose, that Jeremy Froste—how they knew where he’d be sitting beats me, but they did—and off he went to look at it, and there’s only one tree left, while Mrs. Skinner and Mrs. Henderson makes a pair, and everyone knows he wants ’em as—as rare as can be, so when it’s two of ours or one of theirs, guess which he thinks is rarest?”

  They made all the right noises, but Doris would not be easily appeased. She favoured her audience with a scathing denunciation of the character of Murreystone, a withering description of its Marvel, and a slanderous accusation of its ancestry. Not to mention (she went on) all the upset to Mrs. Henderson and Mrs. Skinner, there was Maureen, in floods of tears behind the baize door because now she didn’t stand a hope of being on the telly ...

  At last, having let off at least some steam, overworked Doris stormed off to deliver trayloads of drinks without giving Mel or Miss Seeton time to order any for themselves.

  There was a thoughtful pause, during which, for want of anything better to do, the two perused their menus. Mel, having made her choice, looked up—and saw Miss Seeton, a pucker between her brows, gazing sadly into space.

  “What’s wrong, Miss S.? Nothing you fancy?”

  Miss Seeton started. “Oh, dear, no—it all looks most delicious, and I must thank you again, Mel dear, for having invited me. But I was thinking—remembering, rather. The apple which Doris described with such—such force,” said Miss Seeton, rejecting venom as rather an exaggeration, then wondering if, after all, it wasn’t.

  “What about it?” Mel shrugged. “An apple’s an apple, to the likes of me, but if you insist ... Green, flecks of russet—acid taste, pinky-orange flesh, cook or eat—pure white blossom, stores well—that’s more or less what she said he said, isn’t it?”

  Miss Seeton nodded. “And you know, Mel, it made me wonder ... I could not help but be reminded ...” She nerved herself to confession. “There is a—a tree in my garden, you see, which bears fruit very similar indeed to the apple Doris mentioned. And I was wondering—if it should prove to be a Murreystone Marvel ...” She drew a deep breath. “I was wondering whether—in the interests of the village—with everyone evidently so disappointed ... whether I ought ... since I am, in any case, to be interviewed,” with a sorrowful sigh, “which might somehow not make it seem quite so—so ...”

  As she struggled for the tactful word, Mel rushed to intercept the dread suggestion before it could be made. A Murreystone Marvel in—of all places—Plummergen? In—of all gardens—Miss Seeton’s? She’d bet her next three scoops there wouldn’t be another in the entire village ...

  Mel looked at Miss Seeton, and saw Duty to Plummergen visibly contending with Distaste for Publicity on her old friend’s unhappy features. She looked to the future, and saw Murreystone, incensed at having their glory stolen from them, in combative mood—saw dastardly deeds of every kind, mischief and mayhem and malevolent machination ...

  She made up her mind. She leaned forward, and lowered her voice so that only Miss Seeton could hear.

  “A bargain, Miss S. You don’t say anything about this apple of yours to anyone—and neither. I promise, will I.”

  Note from the Publisher

  While he was alive, series creator Heron Carvic had tremendous fun imagining Emily Seeton and the supporting cast of characters.

  In an enjoyable 1977 essay Carvic recalled how, after having first used her in a short story, “Miss Seeton upped and demanded a book”—and that if “she wanted to satirize detective novels in general and elderly lady detectives in particular, he would let her have her head . . .”

  You can now read Heron Carvic’s essay about the genesis of Miss Seeton, in full, as well as receive updates on further releases in the series, by signing up at http://eepurl.com/b2GCqr

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  COMING SOON

  Miss Seeton Rules ...

  Miss Seeton had just finished putting away her portfolio and the rest of her sketching equipment when the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock. It was most unlikely to be dear Martha again, since it was almost supper-time: the Bloomers, like all country-dwellers, preferred to keep regular hours. Martha would have telephoned, surely, if there had been anything of particular importance—yet she had mentioned, when she’d been so kindly helping to turn the mattress, that Stan was off to a meeting later at Rytham Hall, about the Village Watch, and the bonfire. Perhaps her visitor was dear Stan, on his way to the Hall—although if he intended asking for her advice on the matter of Murreystone, she very much feared that he would be disappointed. How could a mere teacher of art, no more than seven years a resident of the village, possibly be expected to know how to end a feud which had endured for hundreds of years?

  Miss Seeton, musing sadly on the many machinations of Murreystone, clicked her ton
gue as the bell rang out again and she hurried down the hall, unable to stop a slight pucker of disapproval creasing her forehead as she finally opened the door.

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  OUT NOW

  The Fox Among the Chickens ...

  The squawking from the hen-houses continued unabated. Miss Seeton arrived at the runs. She beat the wire door with her umbrella.

  “Stop that,” she called. “Stop that at once, do you hear me?”

  “Sure, lady. I hear you.”

  She gasped. A shadow moved forward, reached through the wire and unhooked the door. With the moon behind him Miss Seeton could see little but a dark shape muffled in a coat, a hat pulled low. But the moon shone on the barrel of the pistol he held.

  “Now, just take it nice and easy, lady. Back to the house and no noise, see.”

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  About the Miss Seeton series

  Retired art teacher Miss Seeton steps in where Scotland Yard stumbles. Armed with only her sketch pad and umbrella, she is every inch an eccentric English spinster and at every turn the most lovable and unlikely master of detection.

  Reviews of the Miss Seeton series:

  “Miss Seeton gets into wild drama with fine touches of farce . . . This is a lovely mixture of the funny and the exciting.”

  San Francisco Chronicle

  “A most beguiling protagonist!”

  New York Times

  “This is not so much black comedy as black-currant comedy . . . You can’t stop reading. Or laughing.”

  The Sun

  “She’s a joy!”

  Cleveland Plain Dealer

  “Not since Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple has there been a more lovable female dabbler in crime and suspense.”

  Amarillo News

  “Depth of description and lively characters bring this English village to life.”

  Publishers Weekly

  Further titles in the series:

  Picture Miss Seeton

  A night at the opera strikes a chord of danger when Miss Seeton witnesses a murder . . . and paints a portrait of the killer.

  Miss Seeton Draws the Line

  Miss Seeton is enlisted by Scotland Yard when her paintings of a little girl turn the young subject into a model for murder.

  Witch Miss Seeton

  Double, double, toil and trouble sweep through the village when Miss Seeton goes undercover . . . to investigate a local witches’ coven!

  Miss Seeton Sings

  Miss Seeton boards the wrong plane and lands amidst a gang of European counterfeiters. One false note, and her new destination is deadly indeed.

  Odds on Miss Seeton

  Miss Seeton in diamonds and furs at the roulette table? It’s all a clever disguise for the high-rolling spinster . . . but the game of money and murder is all too real.

  Miss Seeton, By Appointment

  Miss Seeton is off to Buckingham Palace on a secret mission—but to foil a jewel heist, she must risk losing the Queen’s head . . . and her own neck!

  Advantage, Miss Seeton

  Miss Seeton’s summer outing to a tennis match serves up more than expected when Britain’s up-and-coming female tennis star is hounded by mysterious death threats.

  Miss Seeton at the Helm

  Miss Seeton takes a whirlwind cruise to the Mediterranean—bound for disaster. A murder on board leads the seafaring sleuth into some very stormy waters.

  Miss Seeton Cracks the Case

  It’s highway robbery for the innocent passengers of a motor coach tour. When Miss Seeton sketches the roadside bandits, she becomes a moving target herself.

  Miss Seeton Paints the Town

  The Best Kept Village Competition inspires Miss Seeton’s most unusual artwork—a burning cottage—and clears the smoke of suspicion in a series of local fires.

  Hands Up, Miss Seeton

  The gentle Miss Seeton? A thief? A preposterous notion—until she’s accused of helping a pickpocket . . . and stumbles into a nest of crime.

  Miss Seeton by Moonlight

  Scotland Yard borrows one of Miss Seeton’s paintings to bait an art thief . . . when suddenly a second thief strikes.

  Miss Seeton Rocks the Cradle

  It takes all of Miss Seeton’s best instincts—maternal and otherwise—to solve a crime that’s hardly child’s play.

  Miss Seeton Goes to Bat

  Miss Seeton’s in on the action when a cricket game leads to mayhem in the village of Plummergen . . . and gives her a shot at smashing Britain’s most baffling burglary ring.

  Miss Seeton Plants Suspicion

  Miss Seeton was tending her garden when a local youth was arrested for murder. Now she has to find out who’s really at the root of the crime.

  Starring Miss Seeton

  Miss Seeton’s playing a backstage role in the village’s annual Christmas pageant. But the real drama is behind the scenes . . . when the next act turns out to be murder!

  Miss Seeton Undercover

  The village is abuzz, as a TV crew searches for a rare apple, the Plummergen Peculier—while police hunt a murderous thief . . . and with Miss Seeton at the centre of it all.

  Miss Seeton Rules

  Royalty comes to Plummergen, and the villagers are plotting a grand impression. But when Princess Georgina goes missing, Miss Seeton herself has questions to answer.

  Sold to Miss Seeton

  Miss Seeton accidentally buys a mysterious antique box at auction . . . and finds herself crossing paths with some very dangerous characters!

  Sweet Miss Seeton

  Miss Seeton is stalked by a confectionary sculptor, just as a spate of suspicious deaths among the village’s elderly residents calls for her attention.

  Bonjour, Miss Seeton

  After a trip to explore the French countryside, a case of murder awaits Miss Seeton back in the village . . . and a shocking revelation.

  Miss Seeton’s Finest Hour (A Prequel)

  War-time England, and a young Miss Emily Seeton’s suspicious sketches call her loyalty into question—until she is recruited to uncover a case of sabotage.

  Miss Seeton Quilts the Village

  Miss Seeton lends her talents to the village scheme to create a giant quilted tapestry. But her intuitive sketches reveal a startlingly different perspective, involving murder.

  About Heron Carvic and Hamilton Crane

  The Miss Seeton series was created by Heron Carvic; and continued after his death first by Peter Martin writing as Hampton Charles, and later by Sarah J. Mason under the pseudonym Hamilton Crane.

  Heron Carvic was an actor and writer, most recognisable today for his voice portrayal of the character Gandalf in the first BBC Radio broadcast version of The Hobbit, and appearances in several television productions, including early series of The Avengers and Dr Who.

  Born Geoffrey Richard William Harris in 1913, he held several early jobs including as an interior designer and florist, before developing a successful dramatic career and his public persona of Heron Carvic. He only started writing the Miss Seeton novels in the 1960s, after using her in a short story.

  Heron Carvic died in a car accident in Kent in 1980.

  Hamilton Crane is the pseudonym used by Sarah J. Mason when writing 13 sequels and one prequel to the Miss Seeton series. She has also written detective fiction under her own name, but should not be confused with the Sarah Mason (no middle initial) who writes a rather different kind of book.

  After half a century in Hertfordshire (if we ignore four years in Scotland and one in New Zealand), Sarah J. Mason now lives in Somerset—within easy reach of the beautiful city of Wells, and just far enough from Glastonbury to avoid the annual traffic jams.

  This edition published in 2016 by Farrago, an imprint of Prelude Books Ltd

  13 Carrington Road, Richmond, TW10 5AA, United Kingdom

  www.farragobooks.com

  By arrangement with the Beneficiaries of the Literary Estate of Heron
Carvic

  First published by Berkley in 1994

  Copyright © Sarah J. Mason 1994

  Amendments © Sarah J. Mason 2016

  The right of Sarah J. Mason to be identified as the author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-911440-06-2

  Version 1.1

  Cover design by Patrick Knowles