A Cotswold Christmas Mystery

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘And your mother is a she-wolf,’ said Digby.

  ‘Well, we’re all Russians, after all,’ said Bronya enigmatically, and took her leave without further comment.

  Ant’s heart continued to pound as he tried to grasp the significance of what had just happened. What had his father meant in those final minutes? What did he know about Bronya, and what did he really feel about her? There had been some sort of spark flashing between them, some consciousness that seemed to imply a shared knowledge. ‘Why did she really come?’ he bleated helplessly. ‘At least explain that to me.’

  ‘It’s much better that you remain in ignorance,’ said his father. ‘In fact, your ignorance will save you, as I hope it will save your mother. There’s nothing so dangerous as knowledge, at a time like this.’

  ‘You’ve gone mad,’ Ant said weakly. ‘You’re talking gibberish.’

  ‘I can see it must seem that way. Well, so be it. Look – son, we’ve got to get through tomorrow as best we can. Nothing’s going to kick off until that’s over and done with. There’s every chance your mother’s going to come back in time to pull a few crackers with us. I’m not going to tell you everything’s going to be all right, because that would insult your intelligence. But you’ll be okay. In the long run, it might turn out to be just what you needed. It all depends on the despicable Carla.’

  ‘I know it sounds childish,’ said Ant, ‘but all I really want is for my mother to come back.’

  Thea’s new friend was the man with the metal detector. Stephanie was in no doubt that these were the same slouching shoulders, the same long legs and grey jeans. Besides that, all doubt was removed when he carefully propped his strange device against the wall. ‘This is Detective Sergeant Graham,’ said Thea with a rueful smile. ‘We knew each other slightly, some time back, as it happens. But he’s not here as a policeman now. He’s been having a fun time metal detecting all round the village, on his days off.’

  ‘Gosh!’ said Jessica. ‘Fancy that.’ She stared at his face. ‘Stephanie spotted you, twice. Thought you were behaving suspiciously.’

  ‘I thought you’d got a gun, the first time. Why were you doing it in the dark?’ asked Stephanie.

  ‘I got carried away, that’s all,’ he said, speaking for the first time. ‘It’s hard to stop, once you get going.’

  Thea interrupted to offer him tea and make proper introductions. ‘The big one is Jessica, my daughter, and the little one is Stephanie, my stepdaughter. Jessica’s in the Manchester police, soon to be promoted to CID. And that’s Hepzibah,’ she added, indicating the spaniel who was in her basket licking her paws.

  ‘And I’m Finch. Finch Graham – which I know is back to front. It should be the other way around. It causes all kinds of confusion.’

  Jessica laughed. ‘It’s a nice name, all the same.’

  Hearing an unfamiliar note in her stepsister’s voice, Stephanie gave her a sharp look. She was facing the man, looking right into his eyes, her skin a slightly pinker shade than usual, her back very straight. And the man was looking back at her with the same sort of expression. It was as if an invisible membrane had wrapped itself around them, keeping everybody else at a distance.

  ‘I want to know more about the metal detecting,’ she nagged. ‘How do you do it in the dark?’

  ‘Simple – I’ve got a head torch. So when the thing beeps, I’ve got enough light to see what I’m digging up.’ He was in his late twenties, with curly hair the colour of their kitchen table, a sort of dark ginger. ‘But here I am, still at it, and no sign of anything. I’d just decided to pack it in when your mother accosted me.’

  ‘No lovely Roman gold coins or amulets?’ teased Jessica.

  ‘Quite a lot of nails, maybe eighteenth century, a horseshoe and this.’ He pulled a piece of square-shaped metal from his pocket. ‘I think it’s a shoe buckle, but it’s very broken.’

  ‘Well, that’s better than nothing,’ said Jessica kindly. ‘Are you stopping for a mince pie?’

  ‘You’re not out searching for Beverley Frowse, then?’ asked Thea incautiously.

  Sergeant Graham was patently confused. ‘Who?’

  ‘Oh – I forgot. The police still don’t know she’s missing. Well, I’ve said it now. No need to phone Gladwin about it after all. You can tell her.’

  Graham’s confusion deepened. ‘Er …’ he said.

  ‘You’ll probably know there’s been a body found on the Crossfield Estate,’ said Jessica. ‘Well, there’s also a woman gone missing. She lives in the tied cottage there. Thea’s friendly with the people in the cottage, and they told her about Beverley. They hadn’t said anything to the police, last we heard, which makes it a bit awkward.’

  The man took a slow breath. ‘This is the first I’ve heard about any of it. I’m off duty, have been since Friday. Doesn’t some multi-millionaire own that place? Got a helipad and security fences.’

  ‘That’s the one. And he’s dead. They found him this morning. There’s been trouble between him and his tenants for years now. Harassment and intimidation all the time. It’s a wonder nobody’s called the police before now.’

  ‘And somebody’s missing as well as him being dead? You’ll be telling me next it was murder.’ He paused. ‘Although if that was so, they’d have called us all in. So it’s natural causes, right?’

  ‘Undecided, apparently. All down to the post-mortem, which won’t be till Wednesday, most likely.’

  ‘Christmas,’ said Graham with a nod. ‘Sounds pretty complicated, all the same. And you say you’ve been withholding information? What’s DS Gladwin going to think about that?’

  ‘She’ll be grateful to me for not lumbering her with any more worries,’ said Thea defensively.

  ‘Maybe. But …’ He scratched his head. ‘You’ve told me now. I should probably get onto her. Can we sit down, and you can go over it again.’

  With a sigh, Thea did as asked. She rattled through the story while Stephanie and Jessica listened and added one or two extra points. Stephanie could tell that Thea was trying to make it sound as unsuspicious as she could. She said nothing about the phone call that Ant had told them about, where Beverley had referred to someone being dead. Jessica, more surprisingly, didn’t mention it either.

  ‘Okay – so we’ve got a grown woman, probably not just sick of peeling sprouts in spite of what you’re trying to make me think, gone off on her own, leaving her hated landlord dead in the woods, a few yards from where they both live. That does look quite bad,’ said DS Graham.

  ‘Oh – and there was something about a missing parcel, which had some sort of jewellery in it. I suppose you should know about that. Maybe you’ll be able to find it with your gadget. You really could discover some treasure, after all.’

  The policeman glanced towards the hall where his detector stood. ‘I’m not going to hold my breath,’ he said.

  He was draining his tea and preparing to go, when Thea’s mobile starting jingling. Jessica picked it up. ‘It’s Drew,’ she said, handing it to her mother.

  Thea took the phone, but didn’t leave the room. ‘How’s it going?’ she asked.

  There followed a one-sided conversation in which Thea said various things such as, ‘Amazing!’ and ‘Really?’ and ‘You can say that again.’ Drew was doing almost all the talking. Stephanie watched intensely, trying to ascertain whether the story was a generally positive one or not. It didn’t sound as if the grandmother was proposing to join them for Christmas, at any rate. Nor did she get the impression that anything objectionable was being demanded of Thea. She laughed once or twice, and seemed quite relaxed. She ended by saying, ‘That’s great. Well done. See you when we see you, then. Mind how you go.’

  ‘It’s her husband,’ Jessica explained in a whisper, while the conversation was under way. ‘His father just died, and he’s dashed up to County Durham to see his mum.’

  ‘Bad timing,’ sympathised Finch Graham. ‘That’s a hell of a way from here.’

  ‘He thoug
ht it best to get it over with before Christmas. It’s all rather complicated.’

  ‘These things generally are.’

  Thea finished the call and took a deep breath. ‘Doesn’t sound too bad. They’ve stopped at a service station for the loo and a snack. Timmy’s fine. There was an enormous great dog at the house – a Malamute, of all things. Timmy thinks it’s wonderful, apparently.’

  Nobody had a quick answer to that. Stephanie experienced another pang of envy. ‘What are they like?’ she asked.

  ‘They’re huskies basically, I think. Lovely thick coat and uncertain tempers,’ said Thea. ‘Your grandmother’s a braver woman than I am, to think she can handle something like that.’

  ‘It’ll be nice company for her, though, if she’s just lost her husband,’ said the young detective.

  ‘Will she bring it here when she comes to visit?’ asked Stephanie, imagining the scene with some trepidation.

  ‘Not if I can help it. The dog would probably eat Hepzie.’

  Graham got up. ‘I’d better go. I’ve got to think what to do about this Crossfield business.’ He looked at the three female faces with profound interest. ‘I’m not sure whether to be grateful or annoyed about meeting you, and having all this dumped in my lap.’ He fixed his gaze on Jessica. ‘On the whole, I have to say I’m glad to have met you.’

  ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘Come and see us again. I’m here for a couple more days.’

  ‘And there’s sure to be a whole lot of excitement still to come,’ said Thea with a cheerful grin.

  It took Stephanie some time to forgive her stepmother for that grin.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thea sat down on the sofa with a thump, and said, ‘Well! How about that!’

  ‘He was nice,’ said Stephanie with a glance at Jessica. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘Not sure about that hair,’ said Jessica.

  ‘It was providential, meeting him like that. I feel a huge sense of relief,’ sighed Thea. ‘It’s all out of my hands now, and I can concentrate on Christmas like a good wife and mother.’

  ‘Don’t fool yourself. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be desperate to know what’s happening.’

  ‘No, I won’t. I give myself a bit longer than that. Maybe by the middle of Boxing Day I’ll be feeling a bit curious.’

  ‘What did Dad say exactly?’ asked Stephanie. ‘You didn’t tell us all of it.’

  ‘I pretty much did. He’s okay, that’s the main thing. And the roads aren’t much worse than they were yesterday. He thinks they’ll be here by eight. Which means I’d better get a move on. I haven’t even lit the fire yet.’

  ‘I’ll get started on the potato cakes,’ Jessica announced. ‘I hope there’s plenty of onions and cheese?’

  ‘Don’t use too many potatoes. We need them for tomorrow,’ warned Thea. ‘Aren’t we supposed to fast on Christmas Eve, to leave room for the coming feast?’

  ‘Onions? Cheese?’

  ‘I really don’t know. Go and see for yourself.’

  Jessica went off humming to herself, while Stephanie retired to the sofa, with the dog as usual, and her beloved Through the Looking-Glass. Reading about the white knight and his inanities restored her to a better frame of mind. It was still the funniest piece of writing she could think of. The jokes were so fresh and unexpected. And it had all been written so long ago! It seemed like a kind of miracle to her – and certainly quite magical. Thea was kneeling in front of the woodburner, piling up sticks and rattling the vents. She stayed there watching the flames after the fire had become nicely established. Before long the smell of onions frying gently in butter came wafting through.

  ‘Blimey – it’s half past six!’ Thea realised. ‘I was off in a dream for a minute.’

  Stephanie had finished the book and was half asleep. She had a feeling they’d lost quite a lot more than a minute. Dad and Timmy would be back before they knew it, and Christmas would really be only one sleep away.

  ‘Ready!’ called Jessica, and they all sat round the table with the golden-brown potato cakes in front of them.

  ‘We always used to have baked beans with them,’ Thea reminisced. ‘When we were little. My father made them for Saturday lunch.’

  ‘It was him who taught me how to do them, when I was about fourteen,’ said Jessica. ‘I do miss him.’

  ‘Not another dead man to worry about,’ begged Thea.

  Mother and daughter met each other’s eyes and burst into laughter. Stephanie stared. ‘What’s funny?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, Steph – I’m sorry,’ said Jessica, with a final giggle. ‘It’s just us. Take no notice. It’s been quite a day for all of us. Let’s change the subject. That policeman’s nice, don’t you think? Maybe he’ll take us out metal detecting with him sometime.’

  It was a transparently feeble attempt to improve Stephanie’s mood. ‘We already said that. And you’ll have gone home before he comes again,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, if I’m any judge,’ said Thea. ‘He’ll be back on Boxing Day, I bet you. I wonder what he’s said to Gladwin.’

  ‘She’s going to be pretty miffed at having her family Christmas interrupted,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Well, I hope she doesn’t blame me,’ said Thea.

  Drew and Timmy were still an hour or so away, which gave Thea time to prepare mulled wine and mince pies to welcome the travellers home, as well as lighting candles in the windows and the ritualistic stacking of the presents under the tree. Everybody had accumulated parcels under their beds or in cupboards, in preparation for Christmas Eve. This particular practice had been instigated by Thea, who had grown up with dogs prone to sniff out anything edible and attack the relevant parcel when nobody was looking. The children had strongly approved it, owing to the added excitement it produced.

  The only interruption was an unexpected text from Gladwin. Heard from DS Graham with your fresh info. Should probably be angry with you. Post-mortem to be done on Wednesday, so before that there isn’t a lot we can do. No obvious signs of violence, but the medic isn’t happy that it was a straightforward coronary, especially as the man was in pyjamas and it’s December, and there’s no hint of a reason why he would go out on his own like that. Expect I’ll be seeing more of you next week.

  ‘Put it away,’ urged Jessica. ‘You said you wouldn’t think about it again.’

  ‘I know I did. I fully intend to try. But pyjamas – doesn’t that change everything? Isn’t it a bit sinister?’

  ‘I don’t see why. No—’ Jessica held up a hand. ‘Don’t try to explain it to me. I don’t want to know. The fire needs another log – and I’m going to bring my presents down.’

  Stephanie could see that Thea wasn’t ready to let it go. She kept reading the text and sucking her teeth. But she eventually gave up with a sigh.

  Five o’clock on Christmas Eve saw the Frowses uncomfortably trying to find a way of getting through the coming evening. Even Percy was subdued, licking his feet and sighing, after being given a very short walk to the end of the garden and back. Ant had taken him, and in the process had managed to glimpse the police gazebo standing on the further side of the fence. He reported back to his father the news that there was no remaining sign of police activity other than that. Digby had merely shrugged.

  Ant had tried about twenty times to phone his mother, until finally flinging his device onto the sofa and snarling, ‘She’s doing it on purpose. It’s not possible that she can’t get to a phone. There’s one in every pocket. All she has to do is go up to somebody in the street and ask to borrow theirs. Unless she’s actually been kidnapped, it’s got to be deliberate.’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse, son. She’s hiding out. She knows if she switches the phone on, she can be tracked. She’s scared.’ Digby was oddly calm. ‘But I’ve got one or two ideas about where she might be. We’ll leave it a day and then I’ll see if I’m right.’

  ‘“Leave it a day”? Do you know what day it is tomorrow? She’s
never missed a Christmas. What about the damned goose and all those vegetables? Who’s going to cook them?’

  ‘Me, I presume. I can cook well enough if I have to. And Bev can have it warmed up when she comes home.’ The elderly man tried to smile. ‘Let me just see if I can find her on Tuesday. If I can’t get her to come back, I can take her some sandwiches.’

  It seemed to Ant that his father was wandering in his wits. He was talking utter nonsense, surely. He’d been strange ever since Bronya’s visit, making less sense with every utterance. Now it was sounding as if he’d known more about his wife’s disappearance than Ant had even begun to guess. ‘If you know where she is, just tell me, and I’ll go and fetch her. Now. What’s to stop me?’

  ‘You don’t know why she’s gone. You can’t just force her back before she’s ready. You could do a lot of harm that way. I told you before, the less you know, the better for you. Have patience, boy.’

  Ant angrily repeated his question. ‘Do you know why she’s gone?’

  Digby shook his head. ‘Not for sure. But I know her. I know she’ll have a good reason, and that she’s got some trouble that she has to stay and sort out. She might think the police are looking for her, you see.’

  ‘They probably are, after we told Thea.’

  ‘Pity, that,’ said Digby.

  ‘Do you think she knows Blackwood’s dead?’ Ant’s insides were cramping with panic. He couldn’t put the next thought into words. Every time he tried to connect his mother’s disappearance with the death of their landlord, his mind went foggy and his throat filled up. He clung to the forlorn hope that the timing would work in her favour. They’d managed to agree that Beverley had left home on Thursday, and Blackwood had not been seen by his family since Wednesday. Every time he went through it, Ant persuaded himself more strongly that there was no connection between the two events. But it was all so vague that he could not extract very much encouragement from his calculations. A nasty little voice insisted that logic quite strongly suggested that Beverley had gone off not very long after Rufus had died. There were any number of inescapable scenarios in which the two met fatally in the woods, all of which haunted Ant’s imagination.