“She has not changed one bit in all the years I’ve known her.” Clarissa shook her head. “Always looks like she just ate a lemon.”
Prune-like Marjorie may be, I thought to myself as I mixed my fruits, but that’s probably just what they need at the constable’s office to make sure people weren’t wasting the constable’s time and energy. Not that I was one of them. I had a valid and important reason to pay a call to the station.
Clarissa and I sat down on a bench outside the austere building and I pulled a pen and the now-crumpled list from my purse. Taking the cap off the pen with my mouth, I marked through Jaime’s name, then replaced the cap, tapping the pen against the paper.
“Who’s next?” Clarissa said as she stretched her arms over her head.
“Hey, Clarissa, what are you up to now?” Hugh suddenly appeared by the bench, two paint cans hanging from his hands.
Clarissa relaxed on the bench and made a face at her brother-in-law. He grinned at her fondly, his eyes looking weary. “You two aren’t still trying to solve Selma’s case, are you? Any luck?”
“We were just going to check the suspect list,” she told him.
Hugh set down the paint cans and held out his hand. “Let’s have a look then.”
His eyes quickly ran down the list, then met mine. “If you don’t mind me sayin’, it’s quite a short list.”
I snatched back the paper, a little bit offended that Hugh didn’t immediately praise my sleuthing skills, not that I really had any, but it would have been the polite thing to do.
“We’re working on it,” I snapped.
Hugh held up both hands as if to ward me off.
“If you ask me, she likely just tripped and fell down the stairs on her own. She was quite old, you know.”
“I do know,” I said coldly, shoving the list back into my purse.
“There’s no harm in trying to make sure, now is there, Hugh?” Clarissa broke in. “And you have to admit some quite odd things have happened.”
Hugh shrugged. “None of my business then.”
He tipped his hand to his head in a small salute, then turned away. “See you at home, sis,” he called.
Clarissa watched him wander away with the paint. “Looks like someone hired him for day work. Good for him. He’s happier when he’s working.”
“You and Hugh seem close.”
She smiled ruefully. “Our family went through some tough times several years ago, finances and other … troubles.” She waved her hand in a general way like she didn’t want to go into them. “We came through it together, the three of us. On days my husband or I would want to give up, Hugh pulled me out of my blues, and vice versa. We made a deal that we could never be blue on the same day. It’s like having a kid brother around.”
I tapped her on the shoulder and stood up. “Enough sleuthing for today. Let’s go get a coffee at the local tea shop. I know the owner. She’s not so bad, for a Brit.”
Clarissa grinned and let me pull her to her feet.
Over a coffee for me and tea for her, Clarissa and I leaned in together as we studied my list of suspects. Hugh was right. The list seemed woefully short. Plus, we had eliminated most of the suspects already.
She sat back, stirring her tea thoughtfully, her eyes on the paper. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That it could be literally anyone in this town? Yeah, I am.” I slumped in my chair.
The bell tinkled above the door and Clarissa’s eyes swiveled toward the front of the shop. She glanced at her watch.
“School’s out. I didn’t realize how late it was.” She stood up to greet a red-haired woman with glasses who hurried up toward the counter.
“Veronica, how are you? Have you met our most recent arrival from the States?” Clarissa gestured toward me. I was a little offended. I was certain I wasn’t the most recent person to arrive in town. There had been lots of new tourists, I was sure.
Nevertheless, I put on my best “guest” smile for Veronica, who smiled wearily back, then turned to Clarissa.
“I desperately need a cuppa this afternoon, Clare. The children were climbing the walls today.”
Clarissa turned toward me with a knowing smile. “Veronica teaches at the school, the older kids.” She put a look on Veronica. “We just learned that Constable Allen made his annual presentations to the students recently.”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “Nothing against the constable, but the students were bored to tears by the safety presentation. They didn’t have any questions for him, so he finished up extra early. Fortunately, many of the students had work to finish, otherwise, I would have been more upset.”
My ears perked right up. “The constable finished early? How early?” I asked.
Veronica thought a moment. “He was done at least twenty, twenty-five minutes early. I think the fact that the students were bored made him talk faster than usual. He seemed quite put out about it.”
My breath caught in my throat as Clarissa’s eyes met mine. She blew out a breath, then shook it off and turned to Veronica. “Let’s get you that tea, luv.”
They scurried up the aisle to the counter as I picked up the list. My eyes zeroed in on where I had scratched off Jaime’s name. With a heavy heart, I picked up the pen and added his name back to the list.
Chapter 21
I took the rest of my coffee to go and set off back up the hill to Aunt Selma’s house. I didn’t even want to look at that list of suspects anymore. Jaime’s name stood out and I really — I mean, really — didn’t want him to be the killer.
I flopped down on the sofa in the front sitting room, letting my head fall against the back, one arm flung over my closed eyes.
“Aunt Selma, I wish you were here to tell me what to do,” I whispered into the air. “Where, oh, where are the clues you promised me?”
With a start, I removed my arm and opened my eyes. I was staring at the new shelves and entertainment center, the one that Aunt Selma had shown me during a video chat. She had been almost giddy as she had turned the video camera on the shelves, showing me which drawers came out and which ones were just for show.
“You wouldn’t have a clue this is a false front,” she had cackled as she tapped on one of the drawers. Turning the camera back on herself, she had grinned. “And you know how I love clues and mysteries, Kat.”
Did Aunt Selma include a hidden drawer on her entertainment center? One that might be big enough to hold, I don’t know, perhaps an illustration by Beatrix Potter?
Adrenaline propelled me to my feet and I promptly tumbled over the coffee table that I had forgotten was there. As I sat on the floor rubbing my shins, I took a sharp look at the shelves. From the floor, everything seemed normal.
I decided to start from the top, so I dragged a chair in from the foyer. After checking it for sturdiness, I stepped onto the chair and reached up to run my fingers over the top shelf. Holding my hand in front of my face, I had to smile. There was hardly any dust was on my hand, probably just from the past two weeks since Aunt Selma had died. I was certain the tops of my shelves at home had considerably more dust atop them.
I went shelf by shelf, running my hands along the edges and tapping the wood to see if it was hollow. Each drawer was pulled out and rummaged through. I made a note to clear out those drawers before putting the house up for sale.
No luck. After going over every shelf, I had found nothing except knickknacks, old VCR tapes and a few specks of two-week-old dust. I stared at one of the drawers with the false fronts.
“Hmm.” I rolled my eyes that I had made the same thinking noise I had teased Jaime about.
I gingerly stuck my head through the shelving to peer at the back side. There, taped to one of the drawers was a small, narrow box.
My heart jumped into my throat. I had to pull out of the shelves and get to the back through a different layer so I could reach the back of the false drawer. Gently, I pulled on the box, peeling off the clear tape that held it there. As
I climbed back out of the shelf, a banging noise behind me startled me. I shoved the box behind my back as I spun around.
No one was there.
The banging sound came again, and I realized someone was at the front door. I quickly pushed the box under the couch out of sight, then hurried to the foyer.
Jaime stood under the porch light, looking out onto the street. He turned toward the door, smiling broadly, when he heard me unhook the locks.
I stood in the doorway, unsure about letting him in. He spoke before I had a chance.
“Hallo, Kat, just wanted to swing by and check that you were locked up tight tonight.”
“So that was a test? To see if I actually locked my doors?” I didn’t know whether to be appreciative or resentful. “Thank you for checking. As you can see, I’m fine.”
With that, I gently closed the door even as his mouth opened to speak. I felt bad about the look of surprise, then disappointment on his face, but I couldn’t take any more chances. I relocked the doors as he stepped off the porch into the looming darkness.
I hadn’t realized that it had gotten so late while I had been perusing the entertainment system, but just then my stomach rumbled to let me know I had missed dinner. I turned out the foyer light and headed to the sitting room to retrieve the illustration from under the couch.
This one resembled the first one, clearly part of a set. I set it back into the box, then taped the box back in place in the entertainment center.
After I had heated up some of Clarissa’s leftovers from earlier in the week, I sat at the table, suddenly realizing I had eaten few meals alone since I had come to England.
I played with my food for a few minutes, pushing back the loneliness. It was just one night, for goodness sake.
My cell phone buzzed, and I snatched it up eagerly. A text from Jared: Good morning, my love. How was your day?
I smiled fondly, rubbing my thumb over his message as if I could feel him. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened, but I knew he wouldn’t approve of my sleuthing, so I settled for something a bit vaguer.
Good evening! (smiley face emoji) Making progress on Aunt Selma’s house and drinking a lot of tea! Miss you. (heart emoji)
The response was immediate: Miss you more. The house is too quiet without you. Sleep well.
Jared wasn’t one for emojis, but the sentiment was there. He was a good man and he loved me. What was I doing in the middle of England instead of home with him?
I didn’t want to let my English adventure take over my real life back in the States, did I? Because that’s really what it was, right? Just a little adventure in the Lake District.
With new resolve, I finished off my leftovers and tossed the dishes into the sink. After checking all the doors and windows in the house, I headed to bed, determined to wake early the next morning, find the final two illustrations and make plans to sell Aunt Selma’s house.
Chapter 22
With two illustrations down and two to go, I needed more than a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. Something more fortifying was on order, so of course, I once again found myself locking the front door and pulling on it to double-check it was locked, then trundling off down the hill for more coffee and one of Clarissa’s breakfast sandwiches. Not that I had become addicted, but I would surely miss them, so it was only fair that I eat as many as I could before I left.
As I turned the corner onto the main street, I ran smack into Cousin Franklin coming the opposite way.
“Sorry, Kat, so sorry about that.” Franklin stepped back to let me pass. “Off to Clarissa’s Tea Shoppe for the morning cuppa?”
I chuckled. “I’m going to need more than tea today, I’m afraid.”
Franklin frowned and glanced at his watch. “It’s a touch early to be drinking, Kat, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
I held out both hands in front of me. “No, no, Franklin, I meant, coffee, I need coffee. It has more caffeine than tea.”
Franklin’s cheeks turned pink and he fussed with the hat on his head to give his hands something to do. He finally looked up and saw I was laughing, then he started chuckling with me.
“Of course, of course. For me, it would mean whiskey. For you Americans, apparently, coffee.”
We said our goodbyes and I was still chuckling when I reached Clarissa’s shop.
“You’re in a right cheerful mood today, luv, What’s the occasion?”
Clarissa wandered over, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
“I just ran into Cousin Franklin. He thinks I’ve taken up day drinking because I told him I wanted something stronger than tea this morning.”
Clarissa’s eyebrows shot up. “Stronger? I can deal with that. I have a smooth and dark Italian roast, if you’d like.”
“Sounds perfect. And one of those American breakfast sandwich thingies you do so well.” I gestured in a vague way toward the front counter as I sat down at “my” table.
Clarissa disappeared behind the counter. I leaned back in the chair and my eyes drifted out the window. Franklin stood beside a green metal bench, his head hunched into his overcoat as he listened to another man who seemed familiar. I squinted my eyes to try to get a better view of the pair.
Mr. McPherson, the Beatrix Potter expert from the museum? Why was Franklin talking to him? Franklin, as far as I knew, had no art or museum experience. Was it possible that the two were working together to steal Aunt Selma’s illustrations?
The more I thought about it, the more right it seemed. It just made sense. Mr. McPherson clearly had gotten Cousin Franklin to do his dirty work for him, like breaking into Aunt Selma’s house. Did one of them kill her when she wouldn’t turn over the illustrations?
As Clarissa returned with my breakfast sandwich and coffee, I jumped up and ran toward the door, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”
Racing around the corner of the building, slam! It felt like I ran into a wall.
“Kat, twice in one day? You really need to look where you’re going.”
This time, Franklin just looked perturbed as he straightened his flannel scarf. He frowned as he stepped around me.
I ignored him. Instead, I hurried in the direction he had come from, but no one was there. Even when I looked around the other corner, feeling winded from the sudden exertion, Mr. McPherson was not in sight. He likely fled while Franklin distracted me so I wouldn’t see the two of them together.
I spun back around and hurried to where I had run into Franklin the second time. As I reached the corner, my cousin also was nowhere in sight, having apparently turned off onto another street or into a shop.
Stomping my foot in frustration, I threw my arms into the air. When was I going to get a break on this case? Every time I thought I had an answer, some obstacle popped up.
I stamped back into the tea shop, flinging open the door and sending the little bell into a flurry of activity.
“What’s the matter?” Clarissa asked as she approached my table, one eye on the angry bell. I glared in her direction but jerked a finger toward the window.
Clarissa’s gaze followed the finger. “You’re going to have to give me more than that, luv.”
“I just saw Mr. McPherson from the museum and Cousin Franklin meet up outside. I ran outside to confront them, but Franklin distracted me, and Mr. McPherson disappeared. I’m sure they are in cahoots to steal Aunt Selma’s illustrations.”
“Cahoots?” Clarissa could scarcely keep the smile off her face. “Cahoots, is it?”
I tilted my head and gave her the best stink-eye I could muster.
“Now, Kat, no one actually talks like that, even here. You sound like you’re in a B grade mystery movie.”
“Clarissa, be serious. Isn’t it possible that my Cousin Franklin is doing Mr. McPherson’s dirty work for him by trying to steal the illustrations? And isn’t it also possible that Mr. McPherson will then give Franklin a cut of the money he makes selling them?”
Clarissa pursed her
lips as she gazed back out the window. “All right, it’s possible, although I feel compelled to add that it’s highly unlikely.”
“Why?” I firmly crossed both arms over my chest and glared at her.
Clarissa seemed taken aback by my attitude. “They don’t run in the same circles. McPherson’s friends are highly educated artsy types. Franklin’s friends are, well, less artsy. I didn’t know they were friendly, but then again I don’t know everything that goes on in this town either.” She pointed to my plate. “Now eat your American breakfast before it gets cold.”
I heaved a sigh as Clarissa wandered back to the front counter, then turned to my food. It really was too good to let it go to waste.
I stopped halfway through my sandwich because I was inhaling the food without really tasting it. My mind raced. I forced myself to chew slower, and my thoughts seemed to slow as well. But they still focused on the same idea: Mr. McPherson and Cousin Franklin had conspired to steal Aunt Selma’s illustrations.
Who could I tell? I wasn’t one hundred percent sure, and if I told Jaime, and it turned out that Jaime was the killer, I was sure he would gladly throw Mr. McPherson and Franklin under the proverbial bus.
No, I needed to talk to someone who was impartial. I quickly wiped my mouth and leapt to my feet, throwing a wave at Clarissa as I quickstepped out the door.
Twenty minutes later, I regretted my decision not to go up the hill to fetch the rental car. I was near my destination but chilled to the bone. My frozen knuckles hurt when I rapped on the door.
Corbyn didn’t seem surprised to see me. Of course, knowing the grapevine in this town, he probably knew I was on my way to see him before I did.
The old man invited me in, and I sat down in the same seat as the last time. He settled into his chair and asked how I was getting along.
The heavy sigh I released surprised me. Unbidden, tears filled my eyes. Corbyn silently handed me a tissue and waited, one hand resting atop the other on the arm of his easy chair.
“I’ve been trying to find out who killed Aunt Selma, and I feel like I can’t trust anyone in town. Everyone seems to have a motive and they all know what I’m doing all the time.”
A Dodgy Death Page 9