Two Birds with One Stone (A Marsden-Lacey Cozy Mystery Book 1)
Page 19
“They told me they were going to The Grange that night. I knew where you kept your extra keys, Piers, so I thought I would make it look like a burglary and they had gotten shot.”
“They said the voice sounded strange. What were you using?”
She looked at Johns for a short moment then laughed and shook her head. “That was fun. The gardener’s boy left a small machine you talk into and it makes your voice change. I did enjoy using that toy.”
Then with a complete alteration in her demeanor, she put her hands together in a prayerful way and asked Piers, “Do you think you’ll get Emerson, Piers?” Her eyes were tired and strained from the emotions she had borne.
His first reaction was empathy so he went with that. “I hope so, Hilda.”
“Will I be able to see him? Me a…murderer?” she asked simply.
Piers looked at Johns and Johns fielded the question.
“Mrs. Thyme, that is up to the court and the psychological evaluation.”
She looked at Johns. “I don’t regret one single thing I’ve done. Sometimes someone has to pay a price so that someone else can have what they need. All I want is for Emerson to be cared for and you will do that for him, won’t you, Piers?”
Piers nodded but his mind was reeling from the moral and emotional roller coaster he was experiencing. He reached across the table, took Mrs. Thyme’s hand, and held it.
They all sat in silence for a minute. Johns recognized and respected the character of the man holding Mrs. Thyme’s hand. Then Donna opened the door to say the van from the hospital was there to take Mrs. Thyme and the social worker to Wayford.
THE GROUP OF ADMIRERS AROUND the table in the evidence room were making lots of “ooh” and “ahh” sounds.
“So, what is it?” Johns asked, walking into the room with Piers.
Everyone around the table looked up immediately, each with an awed expression like they were beholding a miracle.
Helen, her voice raw with excitement, said, “In a million years you will never believe what we have on this desk. Never. Never. Never.”
Piers and Johns stood slightly dumbstruck in the doorway then quickly crossed the room to look at the manuscript laying on a clean, white, linen cloth.
Perigrine, with a tear in his eye and a voice raspy with emotion said, “It’s Emily Bronte’s missing novel. Priceless. Simply priceless.”
“I’ve got goosebumps,” Helen said.
Piers walked over and bent down. On a page stained from age, along a margin in a woman’s delicate hand, was written a small poem. It was vaguely familiar to him. Here though, only a stanza of the entirety was written:
Come walk with me, come walk with me;
We were not once so few
But Death has stolen our company
As sunshine steals the dew—
He took them one by one and we
Are left the only two.
The room was reverently quiet. Then Johns said, “Better call someone from Harvard. It’s theirs.”
Everyone looked up at him like he had stripped down to his shorts and was dancing the hoochie coochie.
“Why? What do you mean?” The room exploded with everyone talking at once, accusing Johns of various forms of unpatriotic, un-English, unfeeling coarseness.
“It’s not ours! Devry stole it from Harvard!” Johns yelled, trying to get over the noise of all the people talking.
Everyone stopped mid-accusation.
“We have no choice,” Johns said. “That’s final. Lock it up, Cross, before it goes missing again.”
He walked out of the room feeling relieved, completely above-board, and suddenly hungry. No time like the present for lunch he decided, so he found his way to the reception area and announced, “I’m going for lunch at The Traveller’s, Constable Waters. Be back in an hour.”
Donna made a mental note and went back to listening to Alistair tell her about the time they were saved from being arrested by the Polish Police by a band of gypsies.
Things were back to normal in Marsden-Lacey. At least for a while.
Chapter 39
Marsden-Lacey, England
One Week Later
“SO, I’LL CONTINUE THE INVENTORY at Healy while you’re gone. Think you’ll have time to get a tan while you’re in Florida?” Martha asked while helping Helen pack her suitcase for her trip.
Having retrieved a large majority of her things from her flat in Leeds, Helen was staying with Martha and sharing expenses while they worked on their extensive jobs in Marsden-Lacey. She was ready to give away her ex-husband and attend his wedding in Orlando. Leaving that afternoon, Helen was trying to find enough hot weather clothing to avoid dying from the Florida heat.
“So, did you invite Piers to go or did he invite himself?” Martha pumped Helen for information.
“I absolutely did not invite him. He brought it up because he has friends in Key West. I told him if he would like to have dinner one night while we are both there, we could meet. I’m still a bit stung by how people might perceive my intentions about him.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake, Helen. Thyme was a nut job. She doesn’t count. I think you should have some fun and show him off to your ex and his floozy.”
“Why don’t you worry about your own love life?” Helen threw a pair of frilly knickers back at Martha who had tried to stuff them into Helen’s case.
The doorbell rang as Martha threw them back at Helen but they landed on Amos’ head instead.
“You might want those. You’ll wish you had kept them,” Martha said before running down to answer the front door.
She found Chief Inspector Johns blocking the sun on her doorstep.
“Why hello, Chief Inspector. What can I do for you?”
“I wondered if you would like to go to dinner tonight, Mrs. Littleword?” he asked.
She blinked up at him. The sun had turned him into a dark silhouette filling her door.
“Please come in,” she said, a bit rattled. This was the last thing she had expected. “I can’t this evening. I have a date tonight, but maybe another night?” She gave him a big smile.
Johns stayed his usual rigid self. “Oh, I see. Wouldn’t be with anyone I’d know?”
“Well, maybe. Do you remember the doctor you had come to the station after everything happened at Healy? You had him check us over. Gave Helen a mammoth bandage for her arm?”
“Whithersby.” He said it almost as a growl and his face grew dark.
“Yes. That’s him. Well, he’s been such a nice man, coming here almost every day to check on me. He’s concerned I might have pulled something in my back while trying to flee from Mrs. Thyme,” Martha said, getting wrapped up in her own vision of herself as a gothic heroine.
“Fine,” Johns said tersely. “I hope you have a wonderful time, Mrs. Littleword. I wouldn’t be too sure of the Doc, though. He sometimes tips the bottle a wee bit more than he should.”
Martha’s eyebrows knitted as if concerned by what he said.
Johns nodded. “And he can be something of a rake.”
“A rake, you say?” She grinned when Johns glowered.
“It’s a concern. For a respectable lady, like yourself.”
Martha found it difficult not to laugh. “I appreciate your warning, Constable. I’ll do my best not to let Dr. Whithersby threaten my reputation.”
Johns grunted, stood straighter. “Good. I’ll look forward to another time then...perhaps.”
He gave her a strained smile and turned down the pathway leading to her gate.
Martha stood in the doorstep, one hand on her rounded hip while a new addition to the family menagerie, a tabby, Maine coon cat, threaded lovingly between her ankles. With a knowing smile on her lips, Martha considered Johns’ back side.
“Not bad. Not bad at all,” she thought, then quietly shut the door and ran back upstairs to help Helen pack for her Floridian fun.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter
2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
About the Author
Copyright Information
About the Author
Sigrid Vansandt lives with her husband, daughter and small maltipoo, Amos, in the Ozarks of Arkansas.
She always wanted to write and with the encouragement of her family finally gave it a try. An avid reader of all things British and the American South, she enjoyed combining the two cultures into her first cozy mystery series.
Thank you for reading!
Email Sigrid at: sigridvansandt@gmail.com
Sign up to her email list at: http://eepurl.com/baKFLj
Or follow her on twitter: @SigridVansandt
Copyright Information
Two Birds with One Stone copyright © 2014 Sigrid Vansandt, all rights reserved.
Cover image copyright © iStock.com/smartboy10 and kakigoristudio
Interior graphics copyright © depositphoto.com/Natuska
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places and events are invented by the author or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, organizations, places and events, living or dead, is coincidental.
This e-book may not be reproduced, scanned, stored or distributed in any form without prior written permission of the author. It is intended for the purchaser’s use only.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
About the Author
Copyright Information