by Charlot King
“Breakfast sounds like a jolly good idea, Inspector. I’m starving for something savoury.” Godric swerves the biscuit issue himself. Elizabeth maintains a stare straight at the Inspector with beady eyes, waiting expectantly for him to try one of her baked offerings.
“Oh, go on then.” Inspector Abley picks up a biscuit and takes a bite. Elizabeth watches him. She appears to have little idea of her lack of culinary skills. Godric tries not to smirk as Abley attempts an ‘Mmm’.
Elizabeth half frowns as she watches him chew the biscuit too many times, masticating like a cow, and taking a rather unusually long time to swallow. Then Elizabeth remembers something and holds up a necklace made up of pillar box red and black beads, which she had brought out from the kitchen on the tea tray, temporarily hiding between the flaps of a tea towel.
“Oh yes, before I forget, I found this on the lawn, right on the edge, almost in the water.” The beads glisten with the fresh morning dew as the long necklace wiggles like a snake below Elizabeth’s hand.
Inspector Abley leans in to inspect the necklace carefully.
“Could a friend of yours have dropped these at a different time perhaps? They don’t look like anything Edward would have worn.”
Elizabeth can’t quite be sure if Abley is being serious or sarcastic, and is affronted he doubts her.
“I’d have noticed these beads on my lawn if they’d been here a while. The grass is cut twice a week. They’re so bright, like little fires each one. Maybe he threw them on the lawn before he died?” Elizabeth is overwhelmed by a wave of sadness for Edward and looks down to the water. “It was there all right, and not before.”
Inspector Abley reaches into his pocket for an evidence bag, and opens it for Elizabeth to drop in the necklace, as he lightly reprimands her.
“You shouldn’t have picked this up then. It will have fingerprints on it, now mixed up with yours.”
Elizabeth places the necklace carefully in the bag, looking at the almost too red little beads glint back through the transparent covering.
Godric doesn’t like Inspector Abley’s tone.
“I expect in the heat of the moment, Inspector, that is the last thing Bunny would have been thinking about. Too upset about finding a dead body. Don’t you think?”
Elizabeth is indignant at the Inspector’s audacity, and doesn’t need Godric to fight her battles.
“Listen to me, you wouldn’t have found this had I not picked it up. It was by my lavender hidden right by the water. You were grateful I picked out the hat, isn’t that a little hypocritical? And you shouldn’t have disturbed my ducks and hedgehogs with all these men trampling about everywhere. Look, they haven’t touched their supper.” Elizabeth points at the leftovers she put out last night for the wildlife, which are now surrounding an overturned bowl, all squashed beneath the Inspector’s feet. Abley pulls a face, trying to brush off all the squashed peas from the sides of his moccasins. Elizabeth holds up the biscuits.
“Have you any more bags Inspector?” As Abley puts the necklace in his pocket he gets out another bag and Elizabeth drops in the remaining biscuits, forcing him to take them.
“For your coffee time. They’re good for you. Ginger and Lemon grass.”
Hiding his distaste for the biscuits, Inspector Abley knows exactly what he will do with them when he gets back to the station.
“Marvellous. Thank you.”
Elizabeth squints her eyes with suspicion at the way the Inspector manhandles her biscuits smashing them down into his pocket. Abley looks up and then at Elizabeth.
“Well, I’d better get on, Elizabeth. Came up to tell you that we will need to keep the cordon on your garden from the river for now. Stop any trespassers. Once we’ve cordoned off this bit, you can use the patio and to the right of your garden, but will need to leave the rest undisturbed.”
A constable calls Inspector Abley away, to discuss the case. Godric moves closer to Elizabeth and looks down to the river, his next words almost to himself.
“Edward was a strong swimmer, Bunny.”
Elizabeth pulls his shoulder round to catch Godric’s eye.
“And he swam to me. I’m sure he was trying to tell me something, just before he died. I didn’t understand it. He was choking, but he said something like ‘Tis’, ‘tibs’, or ‘tips’. ‘Serve us Tibs’, ‘serve us tips’, something like that? What do you think it means? What is tips? Is it a drug of some kind?”
Godric glares at his grandmother for suggesting he’d know the names of all the drugs, even though he does. Not that he regularly imbibes, just the odd bit of opium now and then at Freddo Morrison’s. Just sends him to sleep. Much prefers whisky.
“Hang on, buns, you mean he wasn’t dead when you found him?”
“He died in my arms.” Elizabeth says.
“Oh my, oh come here, Bunny.” Godric hugs Elizabeth. “You poor thing. And you’ve been bottling that up.” Then Godric pieces things together further. “Hang on again, have you told the Inspector?”
Elizabeth shakes her head. “Not yet.”
“How exciting.” It is not clear why Edward died on their lawn, but neither can deny that it isn’t more than a little strange. Godric thinks how particularly shaken his grandmother looks by this death. He has heard her talk of her adventures, as she calls them, with her Inspector. But he didn’t expect to see his nanna quite so anxious now Inspector Bob Abley is back in her life.
6. The Mystery is Inside
Politician Jonathan Smythe-Jones has made it to Cambridge, found a parking spot just outside King’s College gatehouse and now crunches across Bodley’s Court. He looks up and sees Rebecca Wiley, his sister, peering from her college room window. Beautiful and frail, she smiles back at him, then disappears from view. Ignoring the ‘keep off’ sign, Jonathan walks on the tightly mown grass, takes out a cigarette case from his jacket pocket, opens it, places one between his lips, flicks open a silver lighter, and draws in heavily. His manicure and cufflinks, as well as pinstripe suit reeks of ‘old money’. Hair lightly greased, thick, black, brushed up and away from his face, just the front rebelling and falling into his steely eyes. As he exhales he wafts smoke, blinks shut his long lashes as he fails to stop some drifting back into his face. Handsome from centuries of good breeding, Jonathan stands confident in his six feet two inches. As he inhales he hears little feet patter behind him, and turns to see that Rebecca has rushed down to greet him. A plain clothes policewoman, who is in fact a family liaison officer, and an officer in uniform appear with Rebecca, and respectfully stay some distance away. Rebecca, in a delicate dress covered with tiny rosebuds, her strawberry blonde hair cut sharply into a bob pinned with a silver butterfly, a face free from make-up and open with innocence, hurls herself into his arms. Jonathan flicks his ash on a pigeon picking at the lawn beneath his feet.
“What a mess, Sis.” Taking another long drag from his cigarette, Jonathan rubs her back.
“Did you have important meetings?” Rebecca asks, burying her face into his chest.
“No. Don’t worry about me. Anyway, I asked Kat to come and stay with you until I arrived. Where is she?” Jonathan’s phone goes off in his pocket. He takes it out and cuts the call. Tearily, and a little hysterical Rebecca looks to her brother.
“What am I going to do? They came here and woke me up to tell me my husband is dead. Edward can’t be dead. Of course he isn’t. He did everything for me.”
“I’m here Bex. You’ve got me now. To be honest I’m struggling with this situation as much as you. I had some papers for Edward, in the car. Very important. Are they sure it’s him?” Jonathan takes out a handkerchief from his top pocket and gives it to Rebecca, then takes another drag on his cigarette and exhales sharply. She notices the knuckles on his right hand have cuts on them and there are scratches on the back of his hand. What would a lawyer be doing with a fresh injury this time of the
morning? Rebecca doesn’t know what to think. She’s just glad he’s here to go with her to identify the body.
✧
Back at ‘Fox’s Haven’, Elizabeth pours flour over egg and milk, whisking pancake batter by hand, as Godric stands eating a piece of slightly burnt toast. They both watch the Inspector through the window coming towards the house and then heading up through the side alley, which passes by her kitchen door. Irritated by the large presence of police, she shouts at him through the open window.
“I was going to cut the grass today. The bottom needs doing!”
“I rather like daisies and clover. Common, but pretty. Everywhere needs a bit of rough.” The Inspector shouts back as he goes past. Elizabeth and Godric then peer through the window and watch the men carrying Edward’s body away on a stretcher, the body bag now covered with a green blanket. Elizabeth shouts to the rest of the police officers walking up the garden.
“Use the path!” She turns to Godric. “Ruddy policemen won’t solve it in a hurry. Time for breakfast now at the station I don’t doubt. My taxes paying for their time sitting about, nattering. And they say men don’t gossip. That place is full of it. He was wrong, you know, to not hire me back on the spot. I bet I could solve this quicker than any uniformed or otherwise.”
Godric echoes what his nanna is thinking.
“When you say solve it, you mean you think this is a suspicious death?”
Elizabeth pours the pancake batter into the pan, swirling the mixture to the edges, mixing with the oil.
“You said it yourself. He was a strong swimmer.”
“He’d beat us all. Can I help then, I mean if this is one of your adventures? Can we solve it together? Revision is such a bore, Bunny.”
“Can you get rid of the mud they’ve traipsed through the back path please dear? How is one supposed to maintain standards, when people take so little care over them in today’s world?”
“My leg, it’s too hurty. I mustn’t do manual things, surely. And isn’t it a crime scene?”
“What did your mother teach you? Honestly, you can help out now and then on household chores. They aren’t going to kill you.”
Godric hugs Elizabeth, who is now watching the pancake fry. He can see in the background the last police officer putting a cordon over the back garden, preventing entry from the back alley or house, and then remaining to watch over the garden against intruders.
“Well that’s that then, I can’t sweep up. We mustn’t go out the back door. But I tell you what, I’ll sample your pancakes for poison, to check they’re safe.”
Elizabeth sighs; at least her grandson keeps things cheery around the place.
“This is all a bit irregular. Don’t think you are going to get this much excitement each time you stay with me, Goddy.” She flips the pancake and then looks out the kitchen window and continues, “Do you know what’s really bugging me. Someone, or something is eating my grapes in the greenhouse, and I’m buggered if I know who.”
“Shouldn’t grapes be eaten?” Godric questions.
“Not when in my greenhouse. I was in there yesterday, just soaking up the wonderful aromas, and two more bunches have been all but picked clean off.”
“Are you sure you haven’t taken them for something. Jam?” Godric rules out the obvious.
“Jam? Yes, I’m quite sure. Don’t question me or you won’t get a pancake. No, there’s no mistake. They’re nearly ripe, but I want to leave them for my wine chap. He’s coming next week and I’ll have nothing to give him at this rate. Whoever’s stealing them has gone through a lot. I’m lecturing in half an hour in the department, but first I’m going to lock that greenhouse door. See how the thief gets in that way.”
“Good idea. I’ll keep an eye on it with my binoculars.”
“While you are revising, please. I think I might go and speak to Mrs Wiley.”
“Ah Rebecca, of course.” It dawns on Godric about Rebecca. “Sometimes I look at her at choir practice and think she’s so delicate that she might sing out her last breath, like a little bird. And the way she looks at me. Like she needs saving. Not sure she knows she’s barking up the wrong tree with me, Bunny.”
Elizabeth cuts him off.
“Oh, is she in your choir? I must come and hear you.” Then adds tersely, “Rebecca Wiley will just have to be strong like the rest of us.”
Godric knows how his nanna had to be strong when his grandpa died. Elizabeth slips the pancake on a plate and places it on the kitchen table, where she has laid the table for Godric, full of jams, cream, chocolate spread. Even in a crisis, Godric can rely on his nanna to maintain good culinary standards, even if the results aren’t always a great eat.
“Eat. Let’s keep our normal routine. It is all too much. A dead body my garden.”
“Are you okay Bunny? Don’t you need some sleep? Let me make you a hotty botty.”
All of a sudden a burst of emotion rises from Elizabeth. How the hell does she know if she’s okay. This is not normal circumstance. It has been a long night and she is feeling quite light headed indeed. But there are things to do, and anyway she is still too shocked to sleep. The finality of death again has come hurtling back towards her, crashing into her life, attempting to knock her off her feet again. But she won’t let it.
“Edward swam to me, Goddy. To me. He died in my arms. It looked like he had made a gargantuan struggle. Why? Don’t tell me that it was for no reason.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort. But what about you, Bunnykins?”
For all his arrogance, Godric loves his grandmother dearly and feels so protective. She’s the only one in the family with manners and decorum. The only one who doesn’t crudely raise her voice in the house, or scream at him like a fish wife. He couldn’t wait to get away from his mother after he finished boarding school. Besides, there is always afternoon tea available at Bunny’s with a box of cakes from the patisserie, her little traditions of eating at the table and napkins, and a little bell she rings to alert him to luncheon. He likes all these things, the style, the elegance. At last he is with a kindred spirit, the epitome of cultured and civilised lifestyle, and he is most comfortable. He places his napkin on his lap and squirts golden syrup over his slightly overcooked pancake and spots the blueberries his nanna has put in a pretty porcelain bowl, and the fresh tea in a pot with milk in a jug adjacent, and fruit juice in a pitcher.
Elizabeth, lifting her loose leaf peppermint, is still ruminating about why Edward came to her, what was he doing in the water so late, and at all? And what had happened to him? Too many questions, and no sleep to boot.
“Grandpa died a pointless and tragic death. But it was an accident. There is not a day goes by... Edward’s death... feels like something entirely different.”
A little concerned, Godric watches his favourite nanna as she walks out of the room. He mouths a ‘thank you for breakfast’ towards the door. Elizabeth’s mind is swirling with too much information. She thinks again how Inspector Abley would not let her help with this case. This was no accident, of that she is sure. Whether the Inspector wants it or not, she is bally well going to find who killed Edward. There is something about being alive that makes you feel guilty around the dead. If she could find the killer and bring them to justice, well, that must make things a little better, mustn’t it? It’s wrong to kill. Though if she could kill whoever is stealing her grapes, that would be a different thing altogether. Elizabeth climbs the stairs and looks out of a window at the top of the landing. From it she can see her garden and the river. There, in the right hand corner of her garden stands her beautiful greenhouse, gravel surround, water butt and a collection of terracotta pots scattered with seeds all framing the view. A crow perches on the tree beside, standing guard.
“That’s it my beauty, sound your caw when you see anyone and I’ll come running. And if I catch them stealing anymore, I’ll skin them lik
e a grape!” Elizabeth knows she now has two cases to solve, the murder of Edward Wiley, and the theft of her prize grapes from her very own greenhouse.
✧
In the grounds of King’s College life is waking up. Students meander to breakfast. Others return from showers, crossing the paths of disapproving Fellows already up two hours previous, who tut at their idleness. A gardener and his wheelbarrow are halfway to cutting a sharp border into the grass along the Chapel side of King’s Front Court, as Jonathan and Rebecca walk past on their way to his car, just through the gatehouse on King’s Parade. Directly beside Jonathan’s is a police car, with officers already sat inside, waiting to accompany Rebecca to the station to identify her husband’s body. Jonathan opens the passenger door, leans in and chucks all his work papers aside to make space. Rebecca watches as Jonathan’s briefcase flies on top of a garden shovel, half covered with a blanket on the back seat. He guides his sister into the front, passes a seatbelt across her lap and clicks it locked, then kneels down outside the car by the passenger door, so his face is level to hers and he’s out of view of the police.
“They will want to formally question you shortly. Is there anything you should tell me now, darling, before we do this?” He looks into her eyes, but Rebecca averts her gaze.
“Like what?”
“They are bound to ask you quite personal things. That’s their job.”
“What things?” She thinks, like why you have a shovel in the back of your car? Jonathan looks up at the sky and moves his head from side to side, not quite believing he is here rather than in Westminster, waiting to hear from the Chief Whip if he has a place in the Cabinet. He prays to himself that this doesn’t mess the whole thing up, but his heart knows it might. This makes him more short tempered than normal, more irritable with his sister, whom he loves and is probably the most patient with than any other.
