Murder at the Bridge: An Exham on Sea Cosy Murder Mystery (Exham on Sea Mysteries Book 5)

by Frances Evesham

  Libby checked the date. The email had arrived three days ago, the day Belinda disappeared. She printed out the email and set it on one side, her pulse racing, and scanned the rest of the email, but found nothing more from X. She searched with the word Path and Pathway, excited to discover two items. To her disgust, they contained nothing more threatening than a lawn mower advertisement and a reference to paving stones. Belinda, it seemed, was a keen gardener.

  Max's eyes opened wide when she showed him the email. "If that's not a threat, then I'm a Dutchman."

  Libby waved the sheet of paper at Mike. "Is this from Xavier Papadopoulos?"

  The farmer's cheek twitched. "I don't know. I never use the computer – can't abide staring at a screen. I leave all that to Liam. He prints out emails that come for me and I tell him how to respond. I don't know anything about Belinda's account. No idea who she's been talking to."

  He turned away and reached for the kettle. His hand shook so that he could hardly lift it. Max said, "Don't you think it's time you came clean with us? I think you know more than you're letting on about your wife's disappearance. What's going on?"

  The farmer looked from Libby to Max, groaned, and sank into the nearest chair. "I can't. I can't tell you anything."

  Max said, "In that case, it's time we called in the police."

  Tim and his father spoke together. "No!"

  Tim licked his lips. "Come on, Dad. I guess it's time to explain."

  ***

  Mike leaned his elbows on the table, head between his hands, face hidden. "Belinda hasn't been… Well, she hasn't been herself for a long time. It all started when her mother died. Two years ago, that was. They'd always been close and Belinda took it very hard. She wouldn't talk to me about it, but the church helped. She started going to church of a Sunday."

  The sound he uttered lay midway between a laugh and a moan. "We'd never really been churchgoers. We were baptised, of course. Everyone was in those days, and we went to Sunday School. Mostly to give our parents a bit of peace at the weekend, I reckon."

  He made a ghastly attempt at a smile. "We hadn't set foot in the church for years, but the rector came round about her mother's funeral, and he was very kind to Belinda. He came back a few times, to talk about her mother, and Belinda went to church once or twice. She liked it there. Said they were friendly. She wanted me to go too, but I can't abide all that singing and kneeling. Anyway, after a while, it got to be a habit and she was going every Sunday."

  Libby, impatient, longed to hurry him, but she knew Mike needed to take his time. She forced herself to speak quietly. "Where does Xavier Papadopoulos come in?"

  "I'm getting to that. Even though she kept going to church, Belinda was unhappy. I suppose you could say she was depressed. She could hardly get out of bed in the morning, and that wasn't like her. Even in the spring, when we were lambing, she wouldn't go into the fields. Until then, it was her favourite job. She used to stay out overnight, helping the ewes."

  Tim joined in, with an awkward laugh. "Mum was the best for a difficult lambing. She has tiny hands, you see."

  The nerve in Mike's cheek twitched. "Going to church helped a bit. She got friendly with some of the folks there, meeting them for coffee and so on. Then, one day, she met Olivia Papadopoulos. You met her, remember, that day you visited?"

  "Of course. She and her husband didn't seem pleased to find me here."

  Mike fidgeted, rubbing his leg. "He'd come to… I mean, he was on business." He shot a glance at Libby, eyes narrowed, and looked away again. "Not one to chat, Xavier Papadopoulos. He can be a bit sharp, but I owe him a lot. Belinda's recovery was his doing."

  "Really?" Libby found that difficult to believe. Mike's restlessness suggested he was holding something back. Libby glanced at Max for confirmation, and he returned the smallest nod.

  "Olivia invited Belinda to their house one evening. They run these groups, you see, of bereaved people, where they all get together and, well, talk, I suppose. It seems to help. It wouldn't do for me but it worked a treat for Belinda." Libby guessed that a stoic farmer like Mike would run a mile from any talking therapy.

  "Is this group the Pathway in the email?"

  He wrinkled his nose. "That's what they called it. The Pathway to Health."

  Max joined the conversation. "Have you been to any of these meetings, Mike?"

  The farmer lurched to his feet, grabbed empty coffee cups from the table and piled them in the sink. "Belinda preferred to go alone, and I didn't mind. It was good to have the old Belinda back again." He dropped a cup. It shattered, the sharp crack reverberating round the kitchen. He made no attempt to pick up the pieces.

  He swung round, worry etched on the lines across his forehead and round his mouth. "Just recently, she's been busy with the wedding and I thought she was back to her old self. She wasn't going to the Pathway meetings so often, being busy on the farm, you see. She even helped with the lambs again." A brief smile lit his face. "She had three orphans in the kitchen at one time, giving them the bottle all through the day and night."

  Mike ran his hand over the back of his head, rubbing the hair until sparse strands stood on end. "Olivia came over to talk to her one day. I was out in the fields, so I don't know what she said to my wife, but Belinda was crying when I got back. In floods of tears, as bad as when her mother died. She wouldn't tell me what was wrong, just that she didn't want to go back to those meetings. I suppose they fell out. That's what happens in these groups. Bickering, you know."

  Libby nodded. She'd seen plenty of squabbles at the Exham History Society, and on her visits to the Knitters' Guild. The atmosphere could be electric. If only she'd been a fly on the wall when Olivia Papadopoulos fell out with Belinda.

  Tired of trying to guess what Mike was holding back, Libby strode across the room and confronted him. "Be honest, Mike. Why were the Papadopoulos couple here, that day I met them. Was it really business?"

  Mike looked straight at Libby, at last. "They came about Belinda. They said she'd agreed to go to a Pathway meeting the day after the wedding, but hadn't turned up. I told them she'd been tired, but that wasn't the truth. She hadn't wanted to go. I could tell something had upset her, and she didn't want anything more to do with them. She told me she was going to the shops instead. She didn't expect them to come round to the farm."

  He flattened his hair with one hand. "After you'd gone, I told Xavier and Olivia to stop coming around. If Belinda didn't want to go to their group any more, she didn't have to. They gave me a load of bull about letting down the other group members and I said I'd pass the messages on to Belinda. But she never came home."

  Max said, "So, she disappeared and Xavier Papadopoulos and his wife had no idea where she went?" He was rubbing a finger along his upper lip, a gesture he used when deep in thought. "Or was that the impression they wanted to give?"

  Max didn't trust the strange couple any more than Libby did. The thought was comforting. She said, "I think we should pay a visit to the Papadopoulos couple. It sounds as though they were putting pressure on Belinda to keep within the group. Like some sort of cult. It sounds a bit sinister."

  "I didn't know about any threatening email until today," Mike admitted. "Do you think that's why she disappeared?"

  Max shrugged into his coat. "It's time we found out. Mike, you stay here in case Belinda or Sarah turn up. Robert and Tim, if you've finished those lists, get on your phones and see what you can find out about this group. What did you say it's called, Mike?"

  Mike frowned, biting his lip. "The Pathway to Health."

  "Meanwhile, Libby and I will visit Mr and Mrs Papadopoulos."

  Meeting

  "I could kick myself," Libby said, as the car sped away from the farm. "I've already been to their house and talked to the Papadopoulos pair, but I didn't get anything sensible from them." She told Max about her previous visit. Her voice rose. "In fact, that's why I was at the quiz."

  She cleared her throat. Now wasn't the time to quarrel abo
ut Max's fawning over Kate Stephenson. "I thought Belinda would be there, but she didn't show up, although Olivia Papadopoulos behaved as though she expected her. Was she just pretending? I'm beginning to think that couple know a great deal about the disappearance of Belinda and Sarah. Xavier's always in the picture, even at the wedding. I'm sure he was the reason Belinda backed away from me. Then, they both popped up at Mike's farm and spooked him, and now there's evidence they were bullying Belinda. They're right at the top of my current list of suspects."

  "Before we do too much guesswork, let's see if there's a good reason for Belinda and Sarah to run away. Maybe mother and daughter have gone off somewhere on their own. Belinda could be having some sort of breakdown, and Sarah's looking after her."

  Libby snorted. "That's not likely. Sarah was on her honeymoon, for heaven's sake. You don't leave your new husband just after the wedding, to look after your mother. According to Robert, it was just a lover's spat."

  Max's eyes stayed on the road. It was difficult to read his face. "Are you sure Robert's—well, I'll speak frankly. Is Robert telling the whole truth?"

  Libby felt a chill at the base of her spine. How dare Max accuse her son? Her voice was cold. "What are you trying to say? You can't think Robert…"

  "I'm just looking at the facts, as if he were any other young husband, having a row with his new wife."

  Libby shifted in her seat to put more space between Max and herself. She heard the ice in her own voice. "If you're suggesting Robert had anything to do with Sarah's disappearance, you're mistaken. And why would he want to do anything to her mother?"

  Max was soothing. "I'm sure Robert has nothing to hide."

  Libby could have hit him. "Don't try to placate me, as though I'm a stranger. I'm perfectly aware he'll be under police suspicion if Sarah isn't found soon, but I would think you'd trust him. He's my son."

  She stared towards the hedge, where the branches loomed close enough to scratch the car. Max's hand touched her knee, but she pushed it away. How dare he suspect Robert? A tiny throb of anxiety started up at the back of her head. Trevor was the boy's father, and look at how he'd behaved. Like father, like son?

  She closed her eyes. Pictures of Robert as a little boy filled her head. There was the day Ali, his little sister, broke his train set. He'd taken an hour to write a letter to Santa, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth, and he was too excited to sleep on Christmas Eve. Ali trod on his precious train and the funnel broke, but even then, Robert stayed calm.

  Libby couldn't remember a single time before today that Robert had lost control of his temper. Relieved, she let out a puff of pent-up breath. "Robert is one of the gentlest, kindest people I know and I'm proud to be his mother. Tim pushed him too far, today. Robert wouldn't hurt a fly."

  Max navigated a pothole that covered most of the lane. "I believe you. Anyway, there's no reason to suppose anything's happened to either Sarah or her mother. Until we know why they've disappeared, let's not quarrel about the suspects." He turned a corner and the house came into view. "Here we are. Maybe we'll find some answers now."

  Just as before, when Libby had arrived with the cake, the front door was open before they had a chance to ring the bell. Libby muttered, "It's almost as though Olivia Papadopoulos spends all day sitting by the window, waiting for visitors."

  "Why, Mrs Forest, how lovely to see you again." Olivia waved them into the house, a broad smile failing to reach her eyes. "And this must be Mr Ramshore. Of course, we've heard all about you from Mandy."

  Libby stifled a gasp. "Mandy?"

  The woman's eyes glittered. "She came to a meeting with our friend, Kate." Libby felt a familiar chill at the base of her spine, at the thought of Mandy being pulled into the orbit of the sinister Papadopoulos couple.

  Olivia took her arm. "Come through. It's such a beautiful day, let's drink coffee in the conservatory. It's one of my favourite places."

  Libby's thoughts raced. Why had Kate brought Mandy here? Her stomach churned. Olivia did not appear to notice her silence, for Max kept up a calm flow of conversation. "I expect you know Belinda hasn't been home for a while. Mike, her husband, is getting anxious." He didn't mention Sarah's disappearance. "We wanted to talk to you because Belinda often comes to your groups."

  Olivia waved Libby to a wicker chair facing the garden. As she sat, the sun shone full in her eyes and she shifted, uncomfortable, as though under a spotlight. Olivia poured coffee and offered cream and sugar. "I'm afraid Belinda's enthusiasm for our little group has waned recently." She gave a theatrical sigh. "It happens, I'm afraid. Some people take what they need from our gatherings and then leave. Others, of course, stay to help newcomers who need support."

  Max smiled and sipped coffee. "We'd like to know more about the group."

  Olivia's eyes narrowed, her face suddenly sharp, reminding Libby of a fox. "Tell me, Mr Ramshore, are you here as Belinda's friend or in some official capacity? I know you work with the police." She held up a hand, a ring on every finger, the painted nails long, like claws. "We have nothing to hide, but I think honesty's always best, don't you?"

  Libby turned her head from side to side, trying to avoid the sun. "My son's married to Belinda's daughter, Sarah, who also disappeared yesterday. As you can imagine, he's beside himself with worry. I'm here as a mother. Max and I are not being paid to investigate Belinda and Sarah's disappearance." They were being paid to investigate Liam's death, but Libby chose not to mention that. As yet, there seemed no link between the two, but she refused to believe a suspicious death and two mysterious disappearances were unconnected.

  Olivia shook her head. "Ah. I was never blessed with children. It's my tragedy. Such trials brought me through tribulation to follow the Pathway to Health. My husband has many remarkable qualities as you know, Mrs Forest. One of those is his gift as a healer."

  The door opened. Olivia rose to her feet. "And here he is. Sandy, you remember Libby Forest."

  "My dear." Xavier Papadopoulos acknowledged Libby with a cold stare and a brief nod, but spoke to his wife. "Have you forgotten? Our meeting begins in two minutes." Olivia moved towards the door, patches of pink on her cheeks.

  Her husband continued, "I see we have the pleasure of a second visit from Mrs Forest." He watched his wife leave before turning his attention to Libby and Max, lifting one hand as though blessing the visitors. The sun lit his grey hair like a halo. Long, loose robes flowed from head to toe, and as he raised his arm, a sleeve slid back to reveal a tattoo. Libby's gaze locked on the design.

  He saw the direction of her eyes. "You're interested in my tattoo?" He uncovered the length of the tattooed snake that wound around his right elbow, travelling up his arm until it disappeared at the shoulder. "The product of my time in India."

  Libby, horrified and fascinated, jumped as Max's voice rang out. "So, you follow an Indian guru?"

  The man pulled down his sleeve. "I fear I have no time to chat, pleasant though that would be. I must ask you to excuse Olivia and myself, unless you'd care to join our meeting."

  Séance

  "Are you crazy?" Max hissed, his mouth close to Libby's ear, as they followed Xavier through the house and up the wide staircase.

  "You don't have to come. Not your thing, I suppose."

  "I'm not leaving you alone with this pair. They're stark staring mad, if you ask me."

  "In that case, let's see what happens."

  They passed the door of the music room where Libby had listened to the Rachmaninov, and continued on to the end of the corridor. Muffled voices sounded behind the heavy oak door as Olivia Papadopoulos pushed it wide, ushering Libby and Max into the room. A handful of people sat in armchairs that had been arranged in a horseshoe. They faced a low table, covered in a pristine white cloth, a water jug and glass, a wooden bowl, and two candles.

  Xavier Papadopoulos took a position behind the table, his hands lifted in greeting. "Welcome, my friends and fellow members, as we walk the Pathway to Health. Today, we have two vis
itors. Some of you may recognise Mrs Forest and Mr Ramshore."

  Did the small collection of smiling faces belong to an audience or a congregation? Libby's heart sank as she saw Kate Stephenson lean forward and wave. "Hello, Mrs Forest – or may I call you Libby?" With a sweeping gesture of one arm, Kate addressed the room. "Libby and I have spent time together. Let's welcome her to our small band of friends." She led a burst of applause. The twitch of Max's eyebrows betrayed surprise at seeing Kate, but not, Libby decided, displeasure.

  All the onlookers were new to Libby. Three older women sat close together, a little apart from a young girl with unwashed hair who gazed glumly at bitten nails. The two remaining members of the group were men, one wearing flowing robes similar to those worn by Sandy Papadopoulos, while the other was dressed in a formal shirt, tie, and business suit.

  Xavier Papadopoulos held out his arm, fingers elegantly curved, and beckoned his wife. "Some of you, I believe, have need of our endeavours today. We must try to break through the bounds of this mortal realm and reach out to another dimension."

  Libby and Max shared a wry smile. It seemed Olivia was some kind of medium, purporting to put the dead in touch with the living. Libby shot a longing look at the door. Could she slip away without being noticed? This felt like a bad mistake.

  It was too late. Xavier Papadopoulos lit the candles, wafted across the room, and dimmed the light while Olivia sat at the table. Max leaned very close to whisper, "I wonder what's under that table?"

  The dose of common sense calmed Libby's nerves. What harm could come from a couple of aging hippies playing at séances?

  Olivia stirred something in the wooden bowl, and a sweet scent permeated through the room. She muttered something Libby couldn't catch in a slow, rhythmic monotone. Her husband, his voice deep and soothing, exhorted the listeners to concentrate on their breathing. A clock ticked, insistent and regular in the quiet room, and Libby's eyes grew heavy. She took a deep breath, squeezed both fists tight, and dug her nails into her palms, blinking hard, willing herself to stay awake.