Remember Me

by A K Lakelett

  Peter tries to prod Maggie about Chinese herbal medicines, the kind they had found in Eric’s flat. She claims to not know anything about them. Eric had got into alternative medicine way back in Edinburgh. During a spring break he had travelled with his parents to China and Hong Kong and had apparently got sick as a dog (not from eating one, Maggie says before Peter had a chance to ask.) His father had taken him to see an English doctor, who had given him some ordinary pills, and he only became worse. They had to delay their travel back to London. Then a concierge in the hotel had suggested a Chinese doctor and, as he was not getting any better, they agreed. The Chinese doctor had talked with Eric for more than an hour, checked him out, poked and prodded him all over. He had gone out and come back half an hour later with a few pouches of some magic herbs to be made into a tea. And hey presto, two days later Eric was in good shape and they flew back home.

  ‘You don’t sound like you believe that.’ Peter says.

  ‘I do, I did, I do agree with Eric that there are a lot of things in medicine we do not know about, but I’m just not buying that particular story. I think Eric was already getting better and he would have been back in good health with or without the Chinese herbs. But after that experience, Eric was a firm believer in Chinese medicine and he went from there to the others: Indian, homeopathic, you name it.’

  ‘We now know that he was given aconite and that it was what killed him.’ Peter looks closely at Maggie to see her reaction.

  ‘So that’s why you are so interested in monkshood and tried to find out if I knew about it?’

  ‘You know aconite is in monkshood?’ Peter asks.

  ‘Yes of course I do, monkshood’s Latin name is aconitum.’ Maggie smiles, ‘Most gardeners know that, you have to. Does that make me a suspect?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I had to be sure.’

  ‘It’s ok, it is your job,’ Maggie responds and smiles.

  Peter is about to leave, he turns around and asks her if she knew Selena Harris.

  ‘But of course I know her. Why? She was Karen’s favorite teacher in London and just about the only one Lizzie liked, too.’

  ‘When did you last see her or talk with her?’

  ‘I haven’t either seen her nor talked with her since a few months after Karen died. I went to the school and collected her things from her locker. Ms. Harris was most supportive and thoroughly nice. She was so shocked when I had told her that Karen was dead.’ Maggie’s eyes start to fill with tears and she bites her lower lip.

  ‘I am so sorry, Maggie, to bring this up. Unfortunately, I have to.’

  Maggie sighs, wipes her eyes, and blows her nose.

  ‘Why do you want to know about her?’

  ‘Because she died.’

  ‘She died?’ Maggie echoes. ‘Of what and when? She wasn’t that old, I think, no, she wasn’t old.’

  ‘Her body was found in her flat in Faukon Abbey. We are trying to determine how she died.’

  ‘She lived in Faukon Abbey? I had no idea. What was she doing there?’

  ‘She had retired from the school due to health reasons and had moved there.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Thank you for the tea and scones again, they were wonderful.’

  ‘Do you know when the funeral is going to be for Ms. Harris? I’m sure Lizzie would like to go too.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I do not know that yet, her niece is the one handling it. When I find out, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Greene drives back to Faukon Abbey.

  EPILOGUE

  Chorus

  Thursday 10th of July

  Jimmy Carter, The Abbey Chronicle

  ‘Well hello, Jimmy. It’s been a while. I didn’t expect to see you here. What are you doing in Lethmos?’ Caroline asks.

  ‘I had some holiday time to take out. I got a last-minute cheap flight to Athens with an option for island hopping. When we last met, you talked about it and said how wonderful it was over here. So I thought I’ll come and see for myself.’

  ‘I see. Well, you’re welcome here. And I think we do have a cottage available, so you’re in luck. How long do you plan staying?’

  ‘A week, flying back next Thursday – if you can put up with me for that long?’

  ‘We should be able to, let me check with my mother.’ Caroline turns around and raises her voice. ‘Mom, this is Jimmy Carter, he’s my old friend from university, remember him? Can we put him up in the green cottage?’

  ‘Sure, isn’t that the one we just got a cancellation for?’ Her mom, a woman with curly red shoulder length hair in a ponytail with thick dark-rimmed glasses on the tip of her nose, peeks out from behind a curtain. ‘How long is he staying?’

  ‘Maybe a week.’

  ‘Ok, welcome Jimmy, nice to see you again.’

  ‘Thank you Mrs. Evans, nice to see you too,’ Jimmy replies.

  ‘Julia, please, I’m not that old.’ Caroline’s mother smiles and waves her hand, ‘Sorry, busy.’

  The curtain falls back to cover a small cubbyhole, which seems to function as an office.

  ‘Let me get you a key. If you’d like we can go for a swim?’ Caroline says.

  After Jimmy’s bag has been deposited in the tiny whitewashed cottage with a bright blue door and window shutters, they walk across the road and continue down a rocky path to a narrow beach where they spread their beach towels.

  ‘I don’t know if you have been following what’s been going on at home?’ Jimmy asks.

  ‘Faukon Abbey you mean? No, I haven’t really, this is my home now. I quit my job, left Faukon Abbey and moved here. My mother needs me.’

  They go for a swim and then laze in the sun. Jimmy walks over to a small hut selling soft drinks and melon slices and gets some water for them.

  Back with the water bottles, he stands still for a moment, admiring Caroline’s tanned and slim body. He hands her a water bottle.

  ‘You said your home is now here, but are you interested in hearing what’s been going on back in Faukon Abbey?’

  ‘Sure, what’s going on there? We don’t hear much news down here.’

  ‘I hoped you’d say that,’ Jimmy smiles. ‘There’s this very intriguing case, and I have been writing a lot about it. It’s like a detective story except it’s for real and the murderer still hasn’t been caught, not yet anyway. You sure you haven’t heard anything about it? It’s all about finding a man dead in the woods.’

  ‘Good heavens, in Faukon Abbey?

  ‘Yes, a man was found dead in Tersel Woods back in May.’

  ‘No, I haven’t heard anything about it; tell me what’s been going on! Who’s been killed?

  ‘A man named Eric Warner, he’s a big time London solicitor and investor, you knew him, right?

  ‘Eric Warner? Can’t say I knew him; he was a customer at the bank. What happened to him?’

  ‘He was found lifeless, leaning against a tree in Tersel Woods. Nobody, including the police, seems to know what happened to him.’

  ‘Dead? What do you mean they don’t know? People don’t just drop dead; did he have a heart attack or something?’

  ‘Well, my dear, now is your chance to be Miss Marple.’ Jimmy smiles broadly. ‘You used to love Morse and Poirot and Miss Marple back in uni. That’s why I came to see you – you have the sharpest mind of anyone I know and I’m sure you can solve this case just like that.’ Jimmy snaps his fingers.

  ‘Flattery will not get you anywhere,’ says Caroline smiling. ‘I do like a good detective story and like to solve problems, using the grey cells and all that. It keeps your brain working. But before we get more into that, I need to get back and help my mother for a while as there are more guests coming.’ Caroline stands up and picks up her towel.

  ‘Ok, can I catch you at dinner? Is there somewhere we can go? Or are you busy?’

  ‘Dinner sounds lovely, how about I see you in the front at eight?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Jimmy says.


  ‘Are you coming back?’

  ‘No not yet, if you don’t mind, I’ll go for one more swim.’ Jimmy gets up.

  ‘Ok, watch out for the sun though, it’s very easy to burn your skin here.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I have elephant skin.’ Jimmy chuckles and runs down the beach and into the water.

  At eight sharp, Jimmy stands outside the main building wearing a blue t-shirt and a pair of beige pants he had bought just for this trip. It’s apparently fashionable to wear rumpled linen pants, and he wants to show off, just a bit. Caroline comes out wearing a blue sleeveless dress and they walk together to a small beachside tavern.

  ‘It’s a nice place you have here. How many cottages do you have?’ Jimmy asks.

  ‘We have four cottages and three rooms in the main building.’

  ‘How did you come about the idea of this place?’

  ‘Oh my parents bought it as a retirement place years ago. Now my mother needs help, so I came here too.’

  They walk away from the beach, following the road, and reach a small tavern with plenty of seats in a garden out front. Most of the seats are occupied. When the waiter sees Caroline, he rushes over, gives her a quick hug, and ushers them to a table in a corner where they have a great view of the setting sun behind the cliffs.

  ‘The fish is always good here, and the calamari of course, and they do amazing lamb with plenty of tomatoes, lemon and oregano.’

  ‘I can eat and drink just about anything. As long as I don’t have to drink retsina, I’m good,’ Jimmy says. ‘The calamari and lamb both sound really good. Do they have sangria or something like that here?’

  ‘No sangria, wrong country for that my dear, but they have a nice white wine which goes well with both lamb and calamari.’

  They order the food and chat about the weather, and food. Their wine arrives together with a terracotta carafe with water. Caroline pours water for both.

  ‘Oh, this water is good! Is this really only water?’ Jimmy downs his glass.

  ‘Oh yes, it is just plain water, they put a slice of orange in it, that’s all. They have deep wells here.’

  Their calamari arrives and they taste the wine. The calamari is nice and light, suitably crunchy, the accompanying garlic and lemon sauce adding a nice punch. It is gone in a flash.

  ‘You were right, that was really good!’ Jimmy licks his fingers. ‘The last time I had calamari, it was rubbery and chewy, with a fishy taste.’

  ‘It should never taste fishy. If it does, it’s not fresh.’

  ‘That could explain why I needed a good dose of Fernet Branca to calm my stomach. I thought it was the burger I had eaten earlier.’ Jimmy admits.

  ‘Fernet Branca? You mean you use that bad-smelling foul tasting liquor as stomach medicine?’ Caroline laughs, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘I’ll have you know that it was originally made as a medicine, and it certainly helped me and my stomach during my many trips south.’ Jimmy grins.

  ‘Ha-ha, right, sure.’

  Their lamb arrives; thick slices of lamb are covered with thin slices of tomatoes and lemons, sprinkled with oregano and olive oil. A small plate overflowing with crispy French fries is also placed on the table. They tuck in.

  ‘Another winner for sure!’ Jimmy says. He takes a swig of wine and sighs. ‘This is very good indeed. No wonder you want to stay here.’

  ‘Giorgios knows how to cook,’ Caroline agrees.

  They get coffee and orange sherbet for dessert.

  ‘So tell me, have you thought any more about what I said? About putting on your detective hat, exercising your little grey cells?’ Jimmy asks, rubbing his head with his fingertips.

  ‘Can’t say anything before I know what exactly has been going on, so tell me.’

  ‘Ok, fair enough. So here is what we know: a man was found on 12th of May lifeless leaning against a tree in Tersel Woods. He didn’t have any id, not even a mobile phone, so nobody knew it was Eric Warner until a week later when your old boss Colin Crane identified him. At the inquest the pathologist first says that Warner had died of a heart attack, but then he goes on saying, there was no reason for him to have one.’

  ‘That is odd. Warner wasn’t particularly heavy-set as I recall, so I guess he wouldn’t be typical for a heart attack. Go on.’

  ‘Then listen to this-- just when the coroner was about to adjourn the inquest, the daughter pops up and starts yelling that he was poisoned and it was her mother who had poisoned him.’

  ‘Now that’s rather dramatic. Why would she say something of the sort?’

  ‘According to her, she, her mother that is, hated Warner, so she killed him.’

  ‘Hold on a second, I thought the Warners’ had only been married a few years? The only time I met Mrs. Warner she said they had moved to Faukon Abbey to start a family.’

  ‘Oh this was the daughter from his first marriage. She is 18 and she accused the first wife, as in her mother. The new or second wife is the younger one you must have seen, no kids and yes; she said the same thing about wanting kids to me too.’

  ‘Ok, I see. So, putting on my detective hat, here’s the question: who had the opportunity and who benefits from Eric’s death?’

  ‘It’s here where it gets interesting. The first wife, who lives in Penzance, couldn’t have done it as she was in London, while the second one was in the Scillies and the daughter lives in London. And they are the only ones, with the exception of a housekeeper, who benefit from his death. The daughter gets a flat, the first wife ten or twenty grand, and the second gets the rest. The housekeeper gets a grand.’

  ‘Where was the housekeeper?’

  ‘In London, too. So, what you think? It is a real puzzle, isn’t it?’

  Their waiter comes around with the check, which Jimmy pays. When they look around, they notice that all the other tables are empty.

  ‘Thank you, Jimmy, I think we should walk back now. It’s getting late.’

  They walk back in companionable silence, admiring the deep blue sky and all the bright stars. It’s very quiet. Small breeze brings the salty air from the sea, and mixes it with the scent of the wild oregano and other herbs.

  When they get to the hotel, Jimmy bids Caroline good night and asks, ‘You’ll think about it, won’t you?’

  ‘I will,’ she smiles. ‘Thank you Jimmy; it was a lovely dinner. And a good story, too.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, after breakfast though, which is served from eight until ten on the patio.’

  ‘Great, I’ll see you then. Good night.’

  ‘Good night Jimmy, sleep well.’

  ***

  The following day, they are again sunning themselves on the beach.

  ‘I do read a lot of detective stories as you know, and recently I have read a lot of them, as guests seem to buy them coming down and leave them behind,’ Caroline says. ‘So, here’s what I came up with, with the help of my little grey cells. Always cherchez la femme, as they say.’ Caroline smiles. ‘In your story you had two wives, one daughter and a housekeeper. I think there’s one more woman involved.’

  ‘Really? Hmm, I guess that could be possible. Mr. Warner was apparently a bit of a ladies’ man.’ Jimmy is silent for a while, then he nods, ‘Yes, I think it could be. Come, race you to the water!’

  Once they’re back on the beach, Caroline continues.

  ‘So, let’s crack this case of yours. Let’s assume there’s one more woman involved, ok?’

  ‘Ok. What’s her name?’

  ‘We can call her Eve.’

  ‘So what does this Eve do and where does she come in?’

  ‘As you said, Warner was a ladies’ man. He played the field, isn’t that the expression?’

  ‘Yeah. So where did he find her?’

  ‘Not sure, not sure it’s relevant, maybe they met in a pub or a wine bar. Isn’t that where people meet?’

  ‘True, so now we have Warner meeting with another woman. Then what?’ Jimmy a
sks.

  ‘If this is going to be interesting, then he has to want her more than she wants him, right? He wants her, she resists since he’s married; easy to do an online search and in five seconds find out, so she knows he’s married.’

  ‘Ok, so what does she do? Strings him along? Is she looking for a rich guy to marry or is she just a good time girl?’

  ‘If this is going to be a good story, both of those are too easy. I think she’s a bit more serious.’

  ‘So they meet, go out?’

  ‘Oh they can meet, but they have to meet in secret. She makes it difficult for him, and the more difficult she makes it, the more he wants her. So they go out for long walks in the forest.’

  ‘Ah now we’re getting somewhere,’ Jimmy laughs. ‘We are now definitely in the woods.’

  ‘Oh you laugh, but think about it. If you’re going to meet someone in secret, where are you going to meet them? Two places, either you “hide in the crowd” like in a big city, but since we’re talking about Faukon Abbey, crowds are not exactly available. Going for walk in Tersel Woods is a good choice. Not a great likelihood of running into anybody there, is it?’

  ‘Ok, ok, so they are in the woods. Just walking about, enjoying each other’s company, right?’

  ‘For sure. They’re free to hold hands and even kiss and not risk anybody seeing them, especially if they are in a bit of disguise.’

  ‘How do you mean in disguise?’ Jimmy asks, ‘why do they need disguise?’

  ‘Well obviously there could still be people walking in the woods. People have dogs. And it would not do if someone saw them together, him being a married man. Tell me, what was Warner wearing when he was found?’

  ‘Hmm, I’m not sure, but as I recall from the inquest report, he was wearing some sort of moleskin trousers and a cheap leather jacket or something.’