The Marmalade Murders

by Elizabeth J Duncan

  “I don’t think we need to wait until somebody comes,” said Penny. “There’s no reason why we shouldn’t go in there now. If there’s no painting planned for this room, maybe someone got it mixed up with another room that was scheduled for a bit of refurbishment and closed this one off instead.”

  “Well, I’m not sure that we should … I mean, surely it would be better if we…” muttered the guide, but Penny was already opening the door, with Victoria looking over her shoulder. They edged into the Green Bedroom. The guide lingered in the doorway for a moment and then returned to his post at the top of the stairs to await the arrival of a site manager.

  As in the previous bedrooms, this dimly lit, dark-panelled room also featured an elaborately carved bed. A tin hip bath with a rough, scratchy-looking towel draped over the side was positioned in front of the unlit fireplace. To the left of the fireplace, a carved wooden panel, which when in place would have blended invisibly into the rest of the room, had been removed to reveal a cleverly concealed cavity the size of a small walk-in closet, tall enough for a man to stand up in and stretch out his arms. A persecuted priest could have hidden here during a search of the building. And in the heart-stopping event the priest hole was about to be discovered by the queen’s soldiers, a functional, rustic wooden ladder that presumably led to a labyrinth of secret passageways deeper inside the building was attached at a ninety-degree angle to the chimney flue, which formed one wall of the hiding place.

  “This’ll be the priest hole,” Penny announced, imagining the hem on the black robe of a terrified priest vanishing up the ladder.

  Victoria rested her hand on Penny’s shoulder to steady herself and, leaning over, the two scrutinized the priest hole.

  “Oh no. There’s someone in there!” exclaimed Penny, pointing to the floor. What looked at first glance like a bundle of discarded navy blue clothes piled on the rough, unvarnished floorboards moved slightly and emitted a faint groan. “Tell the guide that we need help,” Penny panted over her shoulder. As Victoria turned on her heels and dashed out of the room, Penny managed to grasp Barbara Vickers by her shoulders and lift and pull her a few inches out of the priest hole.

  “Barbara,” she said, “what happened to you? Who did this to you?”

  Barbara’s eyes fluttered open. She opened her mouth to speak but could not shape the words. Her eyes closed and her head lolled to one side.

  “Hang in there, Barbara. Stay with me. Victoria’s gone to get help and they’ll be here in a minute.”

  Barbara held up a hand and Penny took it and gave it a gentle squeeze. “That’s right, Barbara,” she said. “Just hang in there.”

  Once more Barbara’s eyes opened and she met Penny’s with a clear, determined gaze. She raised her left hand to her chest, and once more her lips parted. She sucked in a deep breath and then turned her head slightly.

  Penny crouched over her and turned her head so her ear was close to Barbara’s mouth. “You were going to tell me something, Barbara. Please tell me now what it was. I’m listening,” she said. “Tell me.”

  “It wasn’t hers. It was someone else’s,” she whispered. Her breath was coming in short wheezes.

  “What wasn’t hers, Barbara? What was someone else’s?”

  “The marmalade. It wasn’t hers.”

  “Who’s ‘her,’ Barbara? It wasn’t whose marmalade?”

  Barbara did not speak again, and all Penny heard was ragged, laboured breathing.

  Eighteen

  The sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs and running down the corridor signalled the arrival of paramedics and the police. Penny let go of Barbara’s hand and stepped back to give the paramedics space to work, then joined Victoria in the hall.

  “Who is it?” Victoria asked as they waited outside the Green Bedroom. “Did you recognize her?”

  “It’s Barbara Vickers.”

  “What happened to her? Who could possibly have done this to her? And why?”

  “I think it had to do with what she was going to tell me. She could have seen something, or heard something on the Friday night of the agricultural show that didn’t make sense at the time but now she’s realized its significance,” Penny said.

  “It’s too bad she didn’t have a chance to tell you whatever it was before she was attacked.”

  “She did manage to tell me something. She said, ‘The marmalade wasn’t hers.’ I asked her who she was talking about, but she couldn’t tell me. Oh, you have no idea how much I wish I’d gone to the loo with her so I could have heard everything she had to say,” said Penny.

  “‘The marmalade wasn’t hers,’” Victoria repeated. “I wonder what she meant by that.”

  “When we got off the bus, she said she’d remembered something that could have to do with Florence’s missing marmalade. Did she mean the marmalade wasn’t Florence’s? But what marmalade is she talking about?” Penny clenched her fingers into a fist and tapped it lightly on the windowsill. “Oh, this is so frustrating!”

  “Well, let’s hope she’s better soon, and then she can tell you,” said Victoria.

  A uniformed police officer emerged from the Green Bedroom. “Do you happen to know who that lady is?” he asked.

  “Her name’s Barbara Vickers and she’s here with us on a Women’s Guild outing,” Penny replied. The police officer asked a few more questions, took their names and contact details, and then told them they had to leave. “We’re securing the area and we need the corridor clear so we can take her downstairs. Time for you to move along.”

  “How is she?” Penny asked before she and Victoria turned to leave.

  “They’re doing everything they can for her,” he said. His blank, official face gave nothing away. “Look, why don’t you go to the café and have a cup of tea? If we need you in the next little while, we’ll find you there.” He escorted them to the stairs and stood at the top, feet firmly planted and arms folded, watching Penny and Victoria make their way to the ground floor. Penny looked back at him and he gave her an encouraging nod that delivered a “Keep going” message.

  “I’m certainly not in the right frame of mind for strolling in the garden just now,” Penny said, taking a deep breath of fresh air in the courtyard. “We might as well go to the café and have that cup of tea the police officer recommended, and some lunch, if you still feel like eating. Although I’m going to have a coffee.”

  They entered the café, to find several members of their party having lunch. Mrs. Lloyd and Florence, who were seated at two tables that had been pushed together, waved them over.

  “We’ve just heard that something’s happened at the Hall,” Mrs. Lloyd said. “Have you just come from there? Can you tell us anything?”

  “You sit down, Penny,” said Victoria. “I’ll get us a couple of coffees.” Penny slid into the empty fourth chair.

  “It’s Barbara Vickers,” Penny said cautiously. “There’s been some sort of accident.”

  “Accident!” exclaimed Mrs. Lloyd. “What sort of accident? Did she fall? I often say the stairs in these old places aren’t always what they should be. Worn, they are, and narrow. People must have had smaller feet back then.” She turned to Florence. “You’ve heard me say that, haven’t you, Florence?”

  “Yes, I certainly have,” said Florence with a small sigh. “Many times. Now let’s just listen to what Penny has to tell us.”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Lloyd gave a small apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  “I don’t know exactly what happened,” Penny said, “but we found Barbara injured in one of the bedrooms. The paramedics are with her now, and they’ll be taking her to hospital.”

  “Perhaps she collapsed,” offered Florence. “She wasn’t feeling well earlier, while we were at the garden centre. Is she going to be all right?”

  “I hope so,” said Penny.

  Victoria returned with two coffees on a tray and set them on the table. As Penny took a comforting sip, the café door opened and a woman with blonde hair cl
ipped on top of her head entered.

  “Oh, there’s Michelle Lewis,” said Penny. “I didn’t realize she was along on the outing today.”

  “I noticed her on the coach,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “She was sitting at a window seat, about halfway along.”

  “I expect after all she’s been through, with her mother dying the way she did, and having to look after her little girl, a nice day out is just what she needed,” said Florence.

  Michelle collected a tray and selected a few lunch items. After looking around the seating area and catching sight of Penny, she made her way toward her.

  “May I join you?”

  “Of course,” said Penny, gesturing to the chair beside her.

  “Something’s happening at the Hall,” said Michelle as she slid a bowl of soup and a plate with a bread roll off the brown tray and onto the table, then leaned the tray against her chair. “I’ve just seen an ambulance leave. I hope nobody in our group has been hurt. Does anybody know what happened?”

  “We’re not exactly sure,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “These two”—she tipped her head at Penny and Victoria who were sitting across the table from each other—“found Barbara Vickers injured in a bedroom.”

  “Barbara Vickers? Oh no. Is she all right?”

  “Well, we don’t know. We hope so,” said Penny.

  “What happened to her?”

  “Not sure. She was in the Green Bedroom, and it had been closed off with one of those red velvet ropes across the door and there was a sign,” said Victoria.

  “What kind of sign?”

  “A sign that said ‘Wet Paint.’ But that was strange, because there was no painting going on. We thought maybe another room had been scheduled for painting.”

  Michelle sighed deeply. “Well, I hope she’s all right.”

  “We hope so, too,” said Penny. “I’m glad you were able to join us today, Michelle.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me who was supposed to be here today, but since Mum had already booked and paid for the trip, and Macy’s spending the day at a friend’s house, I thought I might as well come along.” She broke off a piece of bread and buttered it. “Mum would have loved being here today. She really enjoyed visiting these old houses. Especially the kitchens. She loved looking at the cooking utensils and the big old cookers, and thinking what it must have been like to work in such a place.”

  The women maintained a sympathetic silence and then Florence spoke. “You must miss your mother very much.” Remembering what Joyce Devlin had said about Gaynor’s tendency to criticize other people’s relationships and knowing Michelle was no longer living with her partner, Penny waited to see how she would respond to Florence’s kindly meant comment.

  “The fact that she’s gone hasn’t really sunk in, to be honest. I’m still trying to get my head around it. And the way it happened … Well, you see things like that on the telly, but you never expect something like this to happen in your own family, and when it does, you just cope the best you can.”

  “And are they any further along in finding out what happened to Gaynor?” Mrs. Lloyd asked, displaying just the slightest hint of a little too much eagerness.

  “I don’t know,” said Michelle. “The police asked a lot of questions about her. They wanted to know everything about the people she knew, and her relationships with them. They asked if I could think of anyone who might want to harm her. There were women she didn’t get along with, but I can’t think of anyone who actually hated her enough to do something like that to her. Of course the police also asked a lot of questions about the family, searched her house, all the usual police stuff.”

  “Looking for clues, no doubt,” said Mrs. Lloyd.

  “They were especially interested in my aunt. Wanted to know all about her, how my mother felt about her, and so on. I don’t know all the details, but apparently there were bad feelings between them going back a long way.”

  “When you say the police were interested in your aunt, do you mean Andrea or Joyce?” Penny asked.

  Michelle seemed taken aback. “Why, Andrea, of course. I suppose Joyce is technically my aunt, being married to my uncle Daffydd, but I don’t really think of her in that way.”

  “Oh, right. It’s only that…” Penny was about to mention what Heather Hughes had told her on the drive home from the agricultural show banquet about seeing Andrea and Gaynor arguing in the café in Betws y Coed. But after catching a glimpse of Mrs. Lloyd leaning forward, eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted, Penny decided it would be more prudent not to mention this. “Never mind. You were seated at Joyce Devlin’s table at the agricultural show banquet, though.”

  “I chose to think of it as sitting with my uncle Daffyd, my mother’s brother. He’s always been really nice to me, and I feel comfortable with him. Joyce I can ignore.”

  “So you don’t like her, either?”

  “‘Either’?” Michelle repeated with a touch of frost in her voice that caused Florence and Mrs. Lloyd to exchange a quick glance.

  “Sorry,” said Penny. “Bad choice of words. Only, someone mentioned that your mother and Joyce had had a falling-out and your mother wasn’t too keen on her, which is why I wondered which aunt the police were interested in.”

  “There was no love lost between Joyce and my mother, for years. Everybody knows that. But now that my mother’s murder has brought every last bit of the family’s business out in the open, I expect the police are interested in both Joyce and Andrea.”

  “That soup looks delicious,” said Victoria. “I think I’ll get some. Penny, how about you?” Penny didn’t know if she was changing the subject so abruptly because she genuinely fancied some vegetable soup or because she felt the conversation was straying into uncomfortable territory. But uncomfortable for whom?

  “No, nothing for me, thanks, but you go ahead.” Victoria tapped her with her knee under the table. “Oh, okay, on second thought, maybe I should have something.” She stood up. “I’ll go with you.”

  “If it’s something sweet you’re after, you might want to try the Wet Nelly,” Florence suggested.

  “What’s that?” asked Penny.

  “Have a look at the sweets on offer, and you’ll see.”

  “Was there something you wanted to say to me?” Penny asked when she and Victoria were about halfway to the food-service area and far enough away from the table so Florence, Michelle, and Mrs. Lloyd couldn’t overhear.

  “Michelle seemed really uncomfortable with your questions, so I thought you should stop. And the way Mrs. Lloyd was looking at her, almost greedy for details, made me uncomfortable,” Victoria replied.

  “I know we always say Mrs. Lloyd has a good heart, but I do wonder sometimes if she doesn’t take too much delight in other people’s misfortunes. She seems to relish the details of the bad things that happen to people.”

  “Still, she can be a useful source of local knowledge,” said Victoria.

  They had reached the counter and were examining the sweets. “There’s that Wet Nelly thing,” Penny said, pointing to a slice of what looked like a brown bread pudding. “And here’s a card with a recipe on it, telling us what it’s all about.” She picked up the card and the dessert. “Might as well give it a try. What about you? You said you wanted soup. Are you going to get some?”

  “Yes, I think I am.”

  When they returned to the table, Mrs. Lloyd and Florence were preparing to leave, and Michelle Lewis had just about finished her lunch.

  “We’ll catch up with you later,” said Florence. “I want to see something of the garden before it’s too late.” As they opened the door to leave, Mari Jones, Delyth Powell, and Elin Spears arrived for lunch. Mari’s black trousers, which pulled across her thighs, and her pudgy feet crammed into extra-wide sensible shoes with over-the-foot straps, contrasted with Elin Spears’s youthful, stylish look. She wore expensive-looking jeans, a cropped black leather jacket, and a bright scarf in turquoise and pinks swirled around her neck.

  “At leas
t there are plenty of tables now,” said Michelle Lewis, “so they won’t have to join us.”

  Mari, Delyth, and Elin surveyed the food, made their choices, and found a table at the opposite end of the room. Michelle let out a small sigh of relief.

  Penny raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry,” said Michelle. “I’m just not up to talking to them now.”

  “I can see all this is hard for you,” said Penny. “I apologize if I said things earlier that upset you. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “That’s all right,” said Michelle. “My mother wasn’t easy to get along with. I know that. But Elin’s different. Mum and Elin were friends, until Elin broke up my parents’ marriage, so it’s difficult for me to be around her.”

  Penny remembered that Mrs. Lloyd had mentioned Elin’s involvement in the breakup of Gaynor’s marriage. “How long ago was this?” Penny asked.

  “Oh, over ten years ago now. Maybe twelve,” said Michelle. “I was just finishing high school. I wasn’t aware of what was going on, and one day my mother told me she and I were moving into town and that my father was going to stay on at the farm. So we left, and shortly after that, Elin moved in with my father. For years they pretended their relationship started after my parents had broken up, but people always know what’s really been going on, don’t they? The timing was just a little too convenient.”

  “That’s the thing about villages and towns, isn’t it?” Penny agreed. “Everybody knows all your business, or thinks they do. And when something like that happens, unless one of the couple moves away, the people involved have to live with it every day. Seeing your ex-partner out and about with someone else, and dealing with them at social events.”

  Michelle nodded. “I’m going through something like that myself right now. My partner and I broke up fairly recently. He still lives in town because he wants to be near our daughter—that’s Macy,” she said to Penny. “You met her at the agricultural show.”