by Sonia Parin
“Yes, we found her at home. She had a visitor.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Did you really think she had broken into her own store?” The detective tilted his head. “Tell me about your theory regarding Mrs. Green seeking revenge.”
Seeing the detective’s eyes sparkling with amusement, Evie lifted her chin. “We’ve had reason to suspect Mrs. Green. After all, she gave a different account of the dowager’s confrontation with Mrs. Sheffield. Anyhow… As a young woman, before she became Mrs. Green, she had been besotted with a young man… Mr. Sheffield. And…”
The detective smiled and shook his head. “And you think Mrs. Sheffield stole him away from Mrs. Green.”
“Yes.”
The detective went on to summarize the plot almost as if he had eavesdropped on the scriptwriters. He shrugged. “It actually doesn’t sound that far-fetched. I’ve heard more ludicrous excuses for murder.”
“Here’s another theory we have been playing with. Again, I don’t wish to point fingers… Charlotte Davis, Mrs. Sheffield’s sister. We saw her riding her bicycle and we’re almost certain she visited the beekeeper.”
The detective sighed. “I’ve had a constable watching the Sheffield house. No one left tonight. So, she didn’t have anything to do with the theft of the honey.”
Not directly, Evie thought. “Do you have the entire village under surveillance?”
“Only those people we suspect.”
Evie had to remind herself he’d had someone keeping an eye on Halton House because of a possible threat from Anna Weston.
Seeing the detective rise to his feet, Evie scrambled to find something else to ask him before he left. “How… How will you follow up on the honey theft? The thief must surely be involved in killing Mrs. Sheffield. Or maybe someone hired the thief…”
“Well…” The detective tilted his head.
“What? Did you just think of something?” Evie asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. Thank you.”
“Oh, was it something I said?”
“Yes. We might be looking for more than one person. You said the thief might have been hired to break in…”
Smiling, Evie said, “Oh, right… I’d like to claim I knew what I was talking about, but I’m afraid I just said the first thing that came to mind.”
“Detective O’Neill warned me about that. You really don’t give yourself much credit.”
“I’ll send a footman down to alert the constable.”
When the detective left, Evie sighed. “I’m really hoping there is an end in sight.” She nibbled the tip of her thumb.
“Dare I ask? What are you thinking about?” Tom asked.
“The vicar. Did he try to point the finger of suspicion at me?”
Tom sat down beside her and mused, “The scriptwriters made the vicar a suspect.”
Evie exclaimed. “We should suggest they make him the killer.”
“You only say that because you don’t want Evie Parker to be responsible for the fictional Mrs. Sheffield’s death.”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t think my character has it in her to kill anyone. She’s been rescued from the poorhouse and most likely feels indebted. Why would she bring the family name into disrepute?”
“I think you make a valid point. But what possible reason would the vicar have for killing Mrs. Sheffield? Oh, wait. The scriptwriters decided he had known Mrs. Sheffield in London.”
Evie straightened. “Hang on. I remember Phillipa saying a scandal drove him to the countryside and Mrs. Sheffield is the only one who knows about it.”
Tom nodded. “Yes, but that’s fiction. If there had been a scandal, the detective would know all about it by now. I’m sure he has looked into everyone’s background.”
True.
Evie surged to her feet and walked to the door. Peering out into the hall she saw a footman. “Could you ask Millicent to come to the library, please?”
Sitting down again, she tried to separate fact from fiction. “That play is playing havoc with my mind.”
Moments later, Millicent came in. “Milady? You asked to see me?”
“Oh, Millicent. Yes, come in.”
Millicent brushed her hand along her dress.
“Do sit down.”
Her maid sat on the edge of a chair.
“Do you remember telling us about seeing the vicar in the village?”
“Let me think. Oh, yes. I said I had been wandering around the village.”
“And you saw him coming out of a cottage.”
“Yes.”
“Can you describe the cottage?”
“It’s at the end of a lane. It has a couple of pretty shrubs. I think they might be lavender. I didn’t get close enough to see.”
“And you’re sure the vicar came out of the cottage.”
Millicent nodded. “Yes, and he appeared to be in a hurry but then he slowed down his step. Almost as if he didn’t wish to be seen coming out of the cottage but once he’d put some distance, he probably wanted to appear to be out and about.”
Tom looked at her. “Abigail’s cottage?”
“Yes, I think so.” Both Abigail and the vicar were new to the village and, despite what Abigail had claimed, they knew she had been living in London. How could they confirm it?
“Thank you, Millicent.”
“Have you come up with a plot to rival the scriptwriters’ outlandish plot?” Tom asked.
“I think I have. But we’ll have to speak with the detective first. That can wait until tomorrow. Shall we join the others? I think they’ll wish to hear about this conversation…”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Evie removed her gardening gloves and handed them to a footman. She had managed to avoid everyone for an entire morning by having breakfast in her room and then taking refuge in the garden. Not even Tom had approached her. Although, she knew he had arrived at the house in time for breakfast.
“Ah, Evangeline. There you are… My heavens, you look very earthy.” Henrietta brushed a finger against her cheek.
“I suppose I have dirt on my face again. Was there something you wished to see me about, Henrietta?”
“Well, yes. You have missed this morning’s rehearsal. After everything you told us last night, the scriptwriters have been quite busy rewriting some scenes.” Henrietta looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “They have decided to turn you into a red herring.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Surely, you could show more gratitude.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Actually, which part did they find most intriguing?” She couldn’t remember making that much sense. After the detective had left, she and Tom had rejoined her guests and had given them a brief summary of their conversation with the detective. Evie remembered their puzzled expressions when she had corrected Tom and then Tom had corrected her. They had eventually settled on the right information. In actual fact, Evie believed the detective had merely been humoring her.
How could two people be involved in killing Mrs. Sheffield?
“They were most intrigued by the connection between the vicar and Anna Weston, of course,” Henrietta said.
“Oh, right…” Evie searched her memory and finally remembered the scriptwriters had settled on Anna Weston as a main suspect instead of Abigail. “To tell you the truth, I’m still not convinced and if I’m not convinced then the audience watching the play won’t be convinced.” Evie sighed. “I’m sorry, Henrietta. I have been out in the sun too long and I wish to change out of these clothes.”
“Can we expect you sometime soon?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be with you shortly.” She supposed she could sit in a corner and play a game of Solitaire. If the scriptwriters had chosen someone else as their killer then she wouldn’t have much of a role to play.
Evie made her way up the stairs, her thoughts engaged on trying to remember exactly what she had said the night before to change everyone’s mind. She had mention
ed Anna Weston and Charlotte Davis.
Two women in love with the vicar…
When she reached the landing, Evie heard footsteps crossing the entrance hall. Looking down, she saw Tom. “Hello, where have you been?” she called down.
Seeing her, Tom made his way up the stairs. “I went into the village to see if I could find the detective. After last night’s discussion, I wanted to ask if he had looked into the vicar’s background.”
Evie could not have looked more surprised. “You have actually gone out of your way to seek information? You usually try to talk me out of becoming involved…”
“Actually, it was all I could think of doing to get out of the house. The scriptwriters were ganging up on me. I thought they had given up, but they appear to be more determined than ever to rope me in.”
“So, did you learn anything new?”
“Yes, I caught up with the detective at the pub. He’s been staying there.” He nodded. “The vicar and Mrs. Sheffield had been acquainted when they both lived in London but the detective didn’t discover any scandals.”
That meant the vicar wouldn’t have a reason to kill Mrs. Sheffield. Unless, he had shown an interest in her sister, Charlotte Davis. “And he hasn’t been able to connect them to anyone else?”
“No. He said he would be talking to Anna Weston again this morning. He wants her to reveal the identity of the man who’s been giving her honey.”
Good luck with that, Evie thought. “Give me ten minutes to prepare. I would like to go to the village.”
“Ten minutes?”
“Fine… Twenty minutes.”
Tom tapped his cheek.
“Okay. Make it half an hour.” When she reached her room, she found Millicent in there tidying up.
“Milady. Caro suggested I might make myself useful here since she is busy rehearsing.”
“You don’t seem to be happy about that, Millicent.” Evie realized she’d spoken too soon. She guessed Millicent’s downcast expression didn’t have anything to do with missing out on the play, but a great deal to do with her infatuation with Edgar.
“It must be the sunshine, milady. I always feel this time of the year inspires great love of everything but not everyone is willing to feel the same way.”
Oh, dear.
Had Edgar already put her in her place?
“Perhaps you need a distraction,” Evie suggested. “Would you like to come to the village with us? Tom and I are planning a trip there this morning.”
Millicent appeared to give the offer some thought and then she brightened. “That would be fantastic, milady. Yes, please. Are you going to spy on someone?”
Evie wanted to say she thought it was time to start asking some tough questions but she didn’t think she would sound convincing enough. “I think I should pay Mrs. Green a visit and offer my support. Oh, now that I think of it, it would be nice to take her a basket. Could you organize that with Mrs. Horace, please. But first, let’s find a suitable dress for the outing. Something cheerful.”
Half an hour later, they both descended down the stairs and hurried outside to meet Tom who stood waiting by the roadster.
“We have company,” Evie said.
Tom took the small basket from Millicent and helped her settle into the rumble seat. Handing her the small basket, he asked Evie, “Are you going to bribe someone?”
“I’m merely going to extend my offer of support. I thought Mrs. Green would appreciate a basket.”
“She might,” Tom agreed. “Then again, she might have heard about the mad honey and think you were trying to poison her.”
A short while later, they arrived in the village and Tom asked, “Which way?”
“Oh. How remiss of me. I have no idea where Mrs. Green lives.” Evie turned around and asked, “Millicent, do you happen to know where Mrs. Green lives?”
“I’m ever so sorry, milady. I don’t.”
Straightening, Evie gestured with her hand. “Drive on, Tom. We’ll pay Abigail a visit. She might be able to give us Mrs. Green’s address.”
As soon as they turned into the lane, Millicent gasped. “This is where I saw the vicar. He came rushing out of that cottage at the end of the lane.” She pointed ahead at Abigail’s cottage.
“Well, it seems we have made a connection,” Evie murmured. But, what did it mean?
Abigail had her window open and Evie could see her once again sitting by the window with her sewing in hand.
“I almost don’t wish to interrupt her. That looks like one of my gown,” Evie whispered.
Ignoring her, Tom went ahead and knocked on the front door.
Evie watched Abigail set her sewing down and peer out the window. Seeing her, she rushed away and a second later the front door opened.
“Milady. What a surprise.”
“Good morning, Abigail.” Evie held up the small basket she had intended giving to Mrs. Green. “We brought you a basket.”
“Oh, how lovely.”
Instead of reaching for the basket, Abigail hesitated. In fact, Evie noticed she kept her hands out of sight.
“Would you like me to set it down somewhere?” Evie asked and took a step forward.
Abigail reached out to take the basket and again hesitated.
“Abigail! My goodness. You’ve cut your hand.” Evie took another decisive step inside the cottage while at the same time, Tom grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her back.
“It’s… it’s nothing, milady. I was clumsy with the scissors.”
As Tom tugged Evie back again, Millicent took advantage of the gap and dove inside, pushing Abigail back.
“Millicent!”
“Milady. She’s cut her hand. Don’t you see what that means?”
“Yes, I do. Now, please step aside.” Turning to Abigail, she said, “It looks like a bad cut.”
Abigail cradled her injured hand. “It’s really nothing but a scratch, milady.”
“Yes, I see. And how exactly did you happen to scratch your hand with a pair of scissors? Did a broken piece of glass have anything to do with it?”
Abigail’s mouth gaped open. She jumped back but then stilled as if in shock.
“Is there something you wish to tell us, Abigail?”
“If not us, then the detective,” Millicent said. “Yes, I’m sure the detective would be greatly interested in her story. Clearly, she cut herself while breaking into Mrs. Green’s store.” Millicent wagged a finger at Abigail. “If you tell the truth, they’ll go easy on you. Why did you kill Mrs. Sheffield?”
“B-but… I didn’t.”
The distant sound of sirens had them all tensing.
“They’re coming to get you,” Millicent warned.
“But I didn’t do anything. I mean…”
“Evie,” Tom warned.
“She won’t do anything.” Evie turned to Abigail. “Isn’t that right, Abigail?”
The young woman gave a shaky nod.
“Evie!” Tom warned again.
“You broke into the store to get the honey,” Evie said.
Abigail’s lip wobbled. Finally, she gave a small nod. “I had to. I didn’t know it was bad. He… he never told me. But after everything that’s happened, I thought the police would find out I brought the honey to the store. But he gave it to me…”
“He? You mean, the new vicar.” It had to be.
“He said Mrs. Sheffield loved honey. He’s a vicar. Why would he want to kill Mrs. Sheffield?”
After that confession Abigail clammed up and it took some doing to get her to talk and tell them the rest.
When she finally told them the whole story, Evie took Tom aside. “Someone must alert the detective but we can’t leave Abigail alone. You stay here with Millicent.”
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
“It makes sense,” Evie insisted. “I’ll be safe. I can’t send you or Millicent. If the vicar decides to do something, you’ll be here to protect Abigail. He wouldn’t think of assaulting me.”
“Because he’s not here. If the vicar had confessed, he would have involved Abigail.” Not wanting to argue the point any further, Evie walked out of the cottage, leaving Tom to grumble and threaten to tell her grandmother about her scandalous antics.
As Evie made her way to the heart of the village, Evie thought about the vicar visiting Abigail to tell her there might have been something wrong with the honey. That meant he must have overheard them talking at the pub.
Evie wished Abigail had chosen to tell the police instead of panicking and deciding to remove the honey herself. It wouldn’t look good for her…
Once Evie reached the corner, she scanned the street, keeping an eye out for the detective. He had to be around somewhere. The night before, he’d said he planned on talking with Anna Weston. Her house was only a short distance away, not far from the vicarage.
Evie hurried her step. When she caught sight of the vicar’s house, she knew she had to turn the corner but then she saw the police motor car.
Outside the vicar’s house!
Clearly, the detective had made the connection. Had he spoken with Abigail? He couldn’t have. Otherwise, Abigail would have mentioned it.
After her initial hesitation, Abigail had been quite talkative, saying the vicar had wanted to do anything he could to please Mrs. Sheffield because when he’d lived in London he had fallen in love with her sister and wanted Mrs. Sheffield to approve of the match.
But the vicar had clearly had other ideas, Evie thought…
He’d wanted to get rid of Mrs. Sheffield who had no doubt objected to the match between him and Charlotte Davis.
Evie hurried toward the vicarage but as she drew nearer, her steps slowed.
Why hadn’t the vicar just given the honey to Mrs. Sheffield himself? Why had he taken the trouble of hiding the fact the honey had come from him by enlisting Abigail’s help?
“Of course. He knew the honey would have an adverse effect,” Evie murmured. And when Mrs. Sheffield died, the finger of suspicion would have been pointed at him without delay.
Had he really known?
Evie saw the detective emerging from the vicarage with the vicar. He had his hand clasped around the vicar’s arm and was leading him to the police motor car.
