The Marmalade Murders

by Elizabeth J Duncan

  “I meant to ask you earlier why Carwyn isn’t here to accept the award himself this evening,” Mrs. Lloyd said to Elin Spears across the table. “I’ve never known him to miss the dinner, so I wondered if he might have been looking after Macy so that Michelle could be here tonight.”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. He’s working tonight. Told me not to expect him back until late, but he wasn’t sure what time.”

  “Working?” Mrs. Lloyd looked puzzled. “On a Saturday night? Working where?”

  “Oh, you haven’t heard?” Elin said, a hint of smugness enlivening her smile. “Well, I’m sure you would have heard all about it in a day or two. Carwyn’s bought Maggie’s Coaches. You know, the coach company that does the day trips around the area? of course, he’s fully qualified, got all the proper operating licences and permits. So he’s been out and about all week, driving. Today he took a group to Manchester for a fancy lunch someplace, then an afternoon concert, then high tea. The trips are really popular, and when we bought the company, of course we agreed to run all the outings already scheduled, so as not to disappoint those who’d already booked. They’re mostly seniors and they count on Maggie’s Coaches for their day trips. And overnights, too. We’ve a lovely four-day excursion to Dorset coming up in March. You and Florence might want to get in on that. There’s a few seats left. I’ll be handling all the bookings, so if you want to go, just let me know.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “Well, we’ll certainly think about it.”

  “And I hope you’ve all signed up for our Women’s Guild trip to Speke Hall on Wednesday. Maggie’s Coaches will be providing the transport services for that, naturally.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Did she just say Speke Hall?” Andrea asked Penny. “What we were talking about earlier. I’m going to be doing some work there.”

  “Oh, really? Maybe we’ll see you there. I’ve never been to Speke Hall, so Victoria and I decided to go along on the outing. We’re both looking forward to it.”

  Mrs. Lloyd stood up, signalling that as far as she was concerned, both the conversation and the evening were at an end. The rest of the table followed suit, and with polite good nights exchanged, everyone began filing out of the room. The procession was slow as people stopped to exchange a quick word with those they hadn’t had a chance to speak to during the course of the evening.

  At the exit, Victoria and Penny caught up to Gareth Davies and his dinner companion.

  “Hello Penny, Victoria,” he said. “You remember Fiona Barton, of course.” He gave the woman beside him an appreciative, reassuring glance.

  Gareth had been introduced to Fiona a few months earlier when she visited Llanelen with two friends of Penny’s. Fiona and Gareth had hit it off over the course of several rounds of golf, and after the visit ended, they had continued seeing each other in Edinburgh, where Fiona lived. A few weeks later, Gareth had told Penny during an awkward and halting conversation that he was developing strong feelings for Fiona. Rather than being upset or hurt, as he had feared, Penny had been relieved. She liked Gareth, and wanted him to be happy, but they had both realized that the kind of deep, romantic happiness he craved was not hers to give.

  “Yes, of course I remember Fiona. Nice to see you again. How are you?” Penny said with a sincere smile as Fiona slipped just a little bit closer to Gareth. He placed his arm around her trim waist and she rested her fingertips possessively on his chest. “I was wondering if there’s any news on the Gaynor Lewis investigation,” Penny asked Gareth.

  “Oh, I’m sure there is,” he replied smoothly. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you what that is. Bethan hasn’t asked for my help, and I’m no longer in the loop.”

  “And that’s a good thing, too,” said Fiona in a light, educated Scottish accent. “He’s got more than enough on his plate right now while we’re getting his house ready to sell. You have no idea how much work is involved. There’s simply masses of stuff to be cleared out.”

  “Oh,” said Penny, “you’re selling your house? Finally getting around to downsizing, are you?” A widower with two grown children who had long since moved away, Gareth had spoken occasionally of selling the family home and moving to a smaller house or apartment. But he was attached to his garden, in the same way Penny was attached to her cottage, and could never quite bring himself to commit to moving. But now, apparently, in Fiona, he’d found the motivation he needed. Gareth gave an embarrassed little shrug. “Sorry, I meant to tell you.”

  “He’s moving to Scotland,” said Fiona, tucking her arm into his and beaming up at him.

  “Oh, right, well…” Penny’s voice trailed off. She hesitated, unable to find the right words. If she seemed too enthusiastic about Gareth leaving, he might think she was glad to see him go. On the other hand, if she seemed distressed or upset that he was leaving, he might misinterpret that to mean there was still hope of a deeper emotional relationship with her. And she had to be especially tactful with her response in front of Fiona. Penny’s initial reaction, however, bordered on relief that Gareth’s leaving meant a clean break, and neutrality. As she and Gareth had been growing steadily apart and were not spending nearly as much time together as they used to, it really wouldn’t make too much difference in her life if he did move away. But she would need more time, she realized, to sort out her feelings and determine how she felt. Fortunately, Florence and Mrs. Lloyd had joined them just in time to catch Fiona’s last sentence and saved her the necessity of replying.

  “Moving to Scotland!” Mrs. Lloyd exclaimed. “Whatever for? Don’t tell me you’re moving there for the golf! We’ve got perfectly good golf courses right here in…” Her words trailed off as she read the meaning behind Fiona’s triumphant look and took in the possessive grasp on Gareth’s arm. “Oh, I see. Well, that’s lovely, and I hope you’ll…” She glanced at Florence, who stood behind her, head tipped slightly to one side as a soft smile played at the corner of her lips. “Well, we’d best be off home,” said Mrs. Lloyd, attempting to recover from her little Scottish gaffe. “Florence doesn’t like a late night.”

  When Mrs. Lloyd and Florence were safely out of earshot, Penny, Gareth, and Victoria burst out laughing. Fiona, who didn’t share a history with Mrs. Lloyd as Penny, Victoria, and Gareth did, smiled awkwardly and shot Gareth a questioning look.

  “‘Florence doesn’t like a late night,’” Gareth repeated. “That’s one way to extricate yourself from a conversation.”

  As Gareth and Fiona said good night and left, Heather Hughes approached Penny and Victoria, carrying the Best in Show trophy for her floral entries. Victoria congratulated her, and then stifled a yawn.

  “Look,” said Heather to Victoria, “you’re tired. Why don’t I drive Penny home? It’s practically on my way.”

  “That would be wonderful,” said Penny. “Victoria doesn’t like a late night!”

  * * *

  “I’m parked just over this way, Penny.” Heather pointed with her car keys to the last row of vehicles in the Red Dragon Hotel’s car park.

  “It’s good of you to give me a lift home.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble. As I said, you’re practically on my way,” Heather replied as she unlocked the doors. “Jump in.” She laid the silver salver she’d been awarded for her gardening efforts on the backseat, started the car, and they soon joined the orderly queue of vehicles exiting the car park. A white coach with Maggie’s Coaches splashed across the side in purple script idled across from the hotel.

  “There was a lot of interest at our table in your dinner companion,” Heather said as she pulled out onto the main road that ran through Llanelen.

  “My dinner companion? Oh, Andrea, you mean.”

  “Oh, is that what she’s called?”

  “Yes. And I can imagine her presence would cause a stir. It must take some courage to return to the town that knew you as someone else after you’ve undergone such a major transformation.”

  “I’m not sure of the correct
language,” said Heather, “but that’s something we’re all going to have to learn.”

  “You’re not the only one. Mrs. Lloyd is also trying to find her way around that,” said Penny.

  “I don’t want to say the people around here are cruel, because they’re not, but I’m quite sure for everyone in Llanelen this will be the first time they’ve encountered a transgender person. You might see that in more cosmopolitan places like Manchester, but we’re not that sophisticated.” She laughed lightly. “We’re just a small, rural farming community. What do we know? And when confronted with things they don’t quite understand, the people here can be, oh, I don’t know, unsure what to do or say. As I said, I don’t think they intend to be cruel. So they come across as insensitive. They might lash out. And of course, the gossip! That can be devastating. When my daughter’s marriage didn’t work out, the things people said and the questions they asked! The poor girl was afraid to show her face in town.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Penny.

  “Anyway, I saw Andrea Devlin in Betws over a week ago. Wasn’t sure at first who it was, and it took me a few minutes to work it out. Something about her looked familiar, and when I realized it was Andy Devlin, as was, I was a bit shocked. I had no idea that he’d undergone something like that.”

  “I don’t think anybody knew. The family seems to have kept it all very quiet. So you knew her of old, then?”

  “Oh, yes. We went to school together. She’s been gone for a long time, though, and a lot of water under the bridge since then. In all our lives.”

  “And you say you saw her in Betws. I’m curious about that. She mentioned she’d been stopping with a mate who lives there. What day was it, do you remember?”

  “Let me see. Thursday or Friday, it must have been. Toward the end of the week.” She thought for a moment, then added, “It was definitely Friday, yes, because first I dropped off my entries to the agricultural show. You and Victoria took them in, actually, but you were really busy at the time. And after that I delivered bunches of fresh herbs to the hotel in Betws. I decided to stop in at the café for a coffee before heading home. I was a bit tired, and thought the coffee would perk me up a bit. And that’s where I saw her. In the café.” And then, almost as an afterthought, Heather added, “She was with Gaynor Lewis.”

  “What? Wait!” exclaimed Penny. “Are you saying you saw Andrea in the café in Betws with Gaynor Lewis?”

  “That’s right. They were seated in one of those booths at the front. I ordered my coffee at the counter and then I took a table toward the rear, so I walked past them. Andrea looked up at me, and as I said, her face seemed familiar, but it took me a while to place her. To realize who she was. It puzzled me the whole time I was drinking my latte, actually. Anyway, I had a good view of them from where I was sat, but they took no notice of me. They seemed to be arguing, or at least engaged in a lively discussion.”

  “And you’re quite sure it was Gaynor that Andrea was with? Couldn’t have been someone else?”

  “No, it was definitely Gaynor. I’ve been a guest speaker at the WG meetings a couple of times, talking about getting your garden ready for winter, and she introduced me once. The other time I was introduced by Elin Spears, I think it was.”

  “Could you hear what they were saying? Gaynor and Andrea?”

  “No, I was too far back, but you could tell from the look of them—the hand gestures and the tension in the shoulders and so on.”

  “Oh, right. And what time would this have been?”

  Heather hesitated. “Oh, it must have been about sixish, maybe a bit later. Anyway, the café was just about to close and the place was almost empty. Why? Is it important, do you think?”

  “I think it’s terribly important,” said Penny. “You do realize that Gaynor died sometime Friday night, or early Saturday morning. The police will be very interested in tracing her movements on the day she died. Have you called them?”

  “No. But you think I should?”

  “Definitely. You have to call them in the morning. Ask to speak to Inspector Bethan Morgan. She’s the detective in charge of the case, and she’ll be glad to hear from you.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “That’s okay. Call them anyway. A murder investigation doesn’t stop because it’s Sunday.” Heather pulled up in front of Penny’s cottage, and after thanking her for the lift home, Penny let herself in to a cool greeting from Harrison, who didn’t really approve of her going out of an evening. He much preferred that she stay home and have an early night with him.

  Sixteen

  Candy floss clouds drifted across a brilliant blue Llanelen sky as Penny entered the town square on the morning of the day trip to Speke Hall. She and Victoria had arranged with their staff to take the day off and both were looking forward to a pleasant outing to a beautiful historic building. And Penny had confided to Victoria that she was hoping the trip would give her the chance to get to know Elin Spears a little better.

  Penny waved to Victoria as she waited for the traffic lights to change, and when they did, she crossed the main road and the two friends joined the group of Women’s Guild members eager to board the white coach with Maggie’s Coaches emblazoned across the side in bright purple script.

  Short and compact, with a fit, wiry physique hidden under a loose-fitting purple fleece, Carwyn Lewis, owner of the coach, stood to one side of the door, glancing at a seating plan, then telling each passenger her assigned seat number and offering a steady, friendly hand to everyone as they placed a tentative foot on the little wooden step that bridged the gap between the cobbles and the bottom step of the coach.

  His dark eyes scanned the square as he checked the list on his clipboard. After running a hand through his short salt-and-pepper hair, he climbed the steps of the coach and addressed the passengers on board.

  “We’re just short the one passenger. We’ll give her a minute or two, and hope she turns up.”

  “Oh, is it Barbara?” called out a woman from the rear of the coach. “I’ve just seen her out the window. Here she comes now.”

  Penny, who was seated beside the window in the first row, peered out and frowned as Barbara Vickers slouched toward the coach. “She’s taking her time,” she said to Victoria.

  Carwyn Lewis leapt out of his seat and descended the stairs to help Barbara board the coach.

  “There you are,” he said when she reached the top of the stairs. “Saved you a seat right at the front beside Bronwyn.” When Barbara was seated, Carwyn started the motor and the coach pulled away.

  The coach filled with quiet chatter as the highly anticipated late-summer outing to Speke Hall rolled along. Soon they had left behind the narrow streets of Llanelen and were speeding through timeless landscapes with a strong sense of place on the road to Liverpool.

  Carwyn had announced they’d be stopping in about an hour for morning coffee at a garden centre, and everyone was looking forward to that, along with the chance to stretch their legs.

  The seats were comfortable, although their dark blue fabric covering was worn and faded. Tired after a sleepless night and an early start, Penny sank back into her seat. Lulled by the steady sound of the vehicle’s motor, she closed her eyes and was soon asleep. Some time later, the slowing of the coach awakened her, and she opened her eyes as the coach pulled into the garden centre.

  “Right, ladies,” said Carwyn. “I need to see everyone back here in forty-five minutes.” Penny and Victoria, nearest the door, stepped off the coach and waited for Bronwyn Evans, the rector’s wife, who was seated in the window seat across the aisle from them. Several women emerged before her.

  “Sorry, I had to climb over Barbara,” Bronwyn said as she joined Penny and Victoria. “She’s sleeping quite soundly. I don’t think she’s feeling well.”

  “I fell asleep myself,” said Penny. “Right. Let’s go find a cup of coffee. It’s just what I need.”

  “Shall we wait for Mrs. Lloyd and Florence?” asked Bro
nwyn. “They might think it rather strange if we don’t.”

  Mrs. Lloyd, Florence, and Elin Spears, the WG president, were the last off the coach. As Elin stayed behind to speak to Carwyn, Penny and her friends ambled off in search of coffee.

  A massive retail operation, the garden centre featured everything from outdoor furniture to home accessories, stationery, books, a food hall with gourmet specialty jams, confectionery, teas, and coffees, and a busy café. Mrs. Lloyd paused to examine various items as they made their way through the displays, and most of the women from the coach were already seated with their cups of tea and coffee by the time Penny led her group into the café.

  When they were settled with their drinks, Mrs. Lloyd remarked that she had been in touch with Andrea Devlin about giving her a quote on some decorating.

  “She’s going to try to fit us in as soon as she can,” Mrs. Lloyd said. “But she’s got several projects ahead of us. And she’s working at Speke Hall, would you believe! Anyway, I’m thinking about getting the dining room painted.”

  “Oh, nice,” said Penny. “What colour?”

  “We haven’t decided. You’re an artist. You know paint. Do you have any suggestions?”

  Penny thought for a moment. “Well, I understand that warm neutrals or bright jewel tones are the in thing right now. And you’ll want a colour that works with your sitting room. Or you might want to get the sitting room done in the same colour, so there’s what designers call ‘flow.’”

  “Oh, here we go,” muttered Florence. “I told her that the minute Andrea picks up her paint roller, there’ll be no end to it, but does she listen? Does she, heck as like.”

  “You could discuss it with Andrea. She would probably have some good ideas,” said Penny. “At the very least, she’ll know what colours are popular.”

  As the conversation continued in a light and pleasant vein, Penny’s thoughts drifted away. But when Florence stiffened suddenly and glanced over her shoulder at the group of women seated at a table behind them, Penny’s attention snapped back.