The Missing Party-Girl: A Rags-to-Riches Cozy Mystery Romance

by Nhys Glover

  That was another trait of the Brits. They loved to hike. There was always a line of hardy walkers tramping down the road in front of their place. And it was quite legal for them to hike across farmland. No one here got to put up Private Property signs on farmland.

  But Adie knew she needed to actually meet people, not just wander the fields. And the village was as safe to visit as her backyard. Lots of people would be looking out for her, Dave had informed her gently, when he suggested she make an effort to meet her neighbors.

  “I’d like to go alone, if that’s okay,” she answered uncomfortably. “I’ll have Jig with me. And Dave said people would keep an eye on me.”

  Cage nodded, his expression starker than it had been when she came down. It was a fine line they walked. He wanted to protect her from the possible threat her cousin-by-marriage posed, but he also wanted her to start being ‘normal’ after a lifetime of being anything but normal.

  “And walking is good for me. Look?” she held out her jeans, displaying the fact the stretch fabric wasn’t nearly as stretched tight as it had been when she arrived in England.

  One day she might even get to be trim, taut and even a little terrific. Although she wasn’t fooling herself that she’d ever be beautiful. On the outside, anyway. But passably attractive suited her well enough. She didn’t want to be beautiful enough to attract the predatory gazes of strange men.

  Cage looked at her slimming thighs and flattening stomach. “Told you you didn’t need to diet or starve yourself to lose weight.”

  His smug tone was his just dessert for all the work he’d put in on her since they’d met. He was her personal trainer, on top of all the other roles he taken on in their relationship. It was lucky he was being paid the big bucks to do it all.

  “Has anyone ever explained that ‘I told you so,’ is no way to win friends and influence people?” she snarked back amiably.

  His big shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Have I told you how much I care about winning people over?”

  She bumped his shoulder with her own. Or maybe it was his arm. He was a lot taller than she was.

  “You make me feel like a party-girl in comparison to you,” she joked, beginning the task of mashing bananas.

  “Talking about party-girls. Are you ready to start working on Georgie’s case?” Cage asked as he stirred the oats.

  “I guess the longer I leave it, the more chance there is of Winsley getting in the way. I felt a bit guilty that Aunt Minerva decided to play games with him, until he tried to kill my dog.”

  “It’s Minerva’s fault, not yours. She should never have dangled that carrot in front of his nose, especially as she never meant for him to get the money. Your aunt simply wanted to make the perfect stick to keep you motivated. The foolish woman didn’t consider all the ramifications of her little plan.”

  Adie sighed heavily. “I know. And I can see why I would need motivating. Who am I to solve a sixty-year-old cold case? And why does it matter if it does get solved? The killer, if there actually was a killer, is probably long dead. Georgie is likely dead by now as well; if she did just take off as some people believed. Even her son is dead.”

  Cage jerked his head up to meet her gaze. “Son?”

  She shrugged self-consciously. “Rory. Didn’t you pick up Georgie’s son’s name?”

  “Rory isn’t a rare name over here,” he pointed out.

  “I know. But why mention him by name, if he was only the ten-year-old kid of her short-term friend? And why employ Rory as caretaker for this place after he got out of the army? Why him? It just seems too coincidental that she’d have done something nice for a total stranger like that…”

  Cage bit at his full bottom lip thoughtfully. “It could be a coincidence, but I see where you’re coming from. After the way things went with the Mystery of the Lost Child, I can see Minerva throwing some clues into the mix for this next mystery.”

  “Oh, yeah, she’s good at those.”

  Chapter 1

  The weather for early spring was chilly, but at least there was no wind and the sun was shining. Even the frost had burned away by the time she put Jig’s leash on and they began her self-imposed task of visiting the locals.

  The village center was a quarter mile from Beckside Farm. It wasn’t much more than a few shops and a pub bookended by two churches. The first church she reached was called St James’. It was square and squat, with a crenellated tower that contained a bell. From the look of it, it had to have been built from local stone, like everything else in the area.

  When she read the notice-board she discovered the church was Norman, having been built in 1142. It blew her mind to know something so old was still in use. The vicar was a Michael Watson and services were held at 10am every Sunday. There were also several social gatherings held at the church hall nearby.

  As she studied the information, wondering if she should attend some gathering or other, a very tall, thin man strode down the path from the church towards her. By the broad grin on his face, she thought he must either mistake her for someone else or be desperate for new parishioners. She wasn’t interested in attending church, she’d had enough of those for a lifetime. But something more secular was a possibility.

  “You must be Ms. Reynolds,” he announced jovially, as he reached her. “And this must be the poor beastie who fell afoul of a murderer. Rory’s pup has certainly grown up.”

  So, he hadn’t mistaken her for someone else. He knew who she was. And who Jig was. This was what Dave had told her about the villagers, but it still surprised her.

  It seemed a fair stretch to refer to Winsley as a murderer. Even if he’d succeeded in killing Jig, it wouldn’t have made him a murderer.

  She held out her hand to the middle-aged man with kind eyes. “Hi, yeah, I’m Adie Reynolds.”

  He took her hand and brought his other up to surround it. “Wonderful to meet you, Miss Reynolds. I’m Michael Watson, the vicar here at St James’. And I also hold services up the valley as well. Small congregations spread out. That’s the new life of a vicar. How are you settling in? Other than having someone almost kill your dog, that is. People around here are up in arms over that, I can assure you. Baiting dogs is criminal. Criminal!”

  She nodded, pleased to have his support. “I’m settling in well. And Dave, the electrician, told me I would be welcome in the village. So today I decided it was time to meet more of my neighbors.”

  His big beaming smile was back again. “Champion! Just what the doctor ordered!”

  He laughed when he saw her stunned surprise. “For a very stubborn case of curiosity that has infected the whole village for decades. Ever since Minerva Reynolds, film star and socialite, chose our little community to join. If only distantly.”

  Adie laughed, delighted by the man’s sense of humor. “Then I’ll do my best to help cure the contagion by answering what questions I can.”

  “I would love to invite you and your companion to a special dinner at the vicarage. Would you be open to such an invitation?” the man went on, almost rubbing his hands together with pleasure. “My wife, Gillian, has a very bad case of the contagion. It would make my life so much easier if I were to get you to dine with us.”

  Adie smiled and nodded. “Of course. Cage and I would be happy to share a meal with you. Just talk to your wife about a suitable day and we’ll be there. Minerva has set me a fairly heavy schedule, but I’m trying to build some down-time in where I can.”

  “Excellent. I’ll be in touch soon then! Enjoy your walk. People in these parts are very friendly.”

  As Adie walked on down the street there was a lightness to her step. Her first real contact with the locals on her own and it had gone well. The man hadn’t looked down on her or tried to force his religion down her throat. That had to be a good sign.

  The houses in the village main street all sat right on the curb, with only a narrow sidewalk separating the houses from the road. Although there wasn’t a lot of traffic passing through the vi
llage, she’d still find it disconcerting to have cars and the occasional tractor passing her bedroom window so closely.

  A few houses further along, she came to the pub called the Ram and Cock. The picture of a ram’s head facing a rooster’s head, both in profile, seemed a rather odd combination. She tried not to think of the sexual significance of the name.

  The door was locked when she tried it, which was to be expected so early in the morning. Again, she looked at the signs. There were meals served at lunch and dinnertime, and on Friday nights they had live music. That might be fun. She’d have to talk Cage into trying it.

  Where her new-found enthusiasm for socializing was coming from she had no idea. Maybe losing weight and leaving her past behind her was allowing her to reinvent herself as Minerva had wanted. She doubted she’d ever become a socialite like Minerva, but getting comfortable around people other than Cage and Dave would have to be a possibility.

  She dawdled along a little further and looked in the front window of a ‘Charity Shop’, as she’d heard Thrift Stores called in this country. The display window was set up to look like a dress store, even if the dummy was a little old and the clothing obviously not new.

  The door said the store was only open three days a week from 10 am until 3 pm. As it was one of the days it was closed, Adie moved on, disappointed. Next door was a coffee shop that called itself Minnie’s Tea Room. Again, opening time was 10 am, which was an hour away. She looked at the small tables covered by checkered cloths and a long display cabinet that she assumed was filled with cakes and cookies for the patrons.

  As she was about to move on, someone inside caught her attention. In seconds, a small woman in an old fashioned apron came out from behind the counter and rushed towards her. The way she threw back the glass door was a little bit daunting, especially for someone so tiny and birdlike.

  “Oh, oh, you must be Adeline Reynolds! I’m sorry we’re closed, but please come back later. Your first cup of tea, or should I say coffee, will be on the house. How’s our Jig doing?”

  The woman spoke quickly, giving Adie no time to answer. Her Yorkshire accent was so broad Adie struggled to understand her. A darting hand snaked out to pat Jig’s head, but the dog edged away from the unexpected contact. He was still half-feral, even though he was now remarkably well-trained.

  “You poor dear! Just terrible what that bad man did to you!” she told the dog, using the voice usually kept for babies.

  She turned quickly to Adie and went on. “You can be sure that if he comes in here he’ll get sent on his way, right smart, with a flea in his ear!” The woman didn’t seem to notice that Adie hadn’t spoken or that Jig wasn’t keen on being petted.

  “Jig is good, thanks for asking. And yes, I’m Adie Reynolds. And you are?”

  The little woman clutched at her flat chest as if having a heart attack. “Oh, silly me. So sorry. I do tend to rabbit on, don’t I? I’m Phillipa Greggs. My family has owned this shop for three generations. It’s not quite the going concern it once was, but we make do.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Greggs. And I’ll definitely make a point of coming in for a cup of coffee next time I’m in the village. I won’t keep you now though…” Adie hurried to say before the next avalanche of words came.

  The woman looked startled, leaving Adie wondering if she’d been a bit abrupt. But it couldn’t be helped. Phillipa Greggs made her uncomfortable in a way the vicar hadn’t. She had the distinct feeling this woman would be one of the town gossips. And it may not be benign gossip she passed on, either.

  “Certainly, certainly. Plenty to do before we open. I just wanted to meet you and let you know how honored we are to have Minerva Reynolds’ niece living amongst us.”

  Her tone when she said Minerva’s name was unsettling. But Adie couldn’t put her finger on why. Was it because she said it in the way many of the members of her mom’s church had said the names of some of the women in town. As if they were both jealous and despising of those more liberated females.

  Adie tightened Jig’s lead and began stepping away. “Thank you for your welcome. I appreciate it.”

  She hurried on her way, feeling the woman’s eyes on her back every step of the way.

  Across the road was a small supermarket called the Co-Op. It seemed oddly modern and out of place in the very quaint, old-world village. On her side of the street she came to the village post office, which also carried tourist souvenirs. As it was open, she decided to go in. She tried not to blame her anxiousness to get inside on Greggs’ continued stares.

  Dave had told her that dogs could accompany their owners into all but the Co-Op. As soon as the little bell announced her arrival, the elderly lady behind the glassed-off counter looked her way and smiled. If she was going to tell her to take the dog out, now would be the time.

  “Good morning,” the old lady said, her accent strong but understandable.

  She made no comment about Jig, causing Adie to immediately begin to relax.

  “Good morning,” Adie replied, beginning to browse the shelves filled with cards and envelops close by.

  Out of the blue, a pang of regret hit her like a blow. She wished she had someone to write to back home. Someone she could buy a touristy card for, on which she could write, ‘Wish you were here.’ But her life back in the States had been an empty and sterile one. Now her mother was gone, the only people she knew well were the bigoted church-goers who had always looked down their noses at her. They’d be the last people she’d wish were here in her lovely new life.

  “Are you Adeline Reynolds?” the woman asked, after a few minutes.

  Adie made her way forward with a smile plastered on her face. Jig seemed to sense her unease and crowded her side. This meeting strangers thing was starting to stress her out. She couldn’t believe she’d thought she was ready for it.

  “Yes, I’m Adie Reynolds and this is Jig,” she pointed down at the big dog at her side.

  Her fingers wound themselves into his long black and tan fur. It helped calm her a little.

  “Nice to meet you, dear. I’m Sadie Samuels. I had the opportunity to speak with your aunt a few times over the years. Lovely woman. So good to poor Rory.”

  Adie felt a more realistic smile take control of her lips. “I think Rory helped her by watching her farm for her.”

  The old lady shrugged, as if unconvinced. “That man was a real mess when he came to Stratherby. Nobody in their right mind would have hired him to work unsupervised for them. But she did, because he was a vet damaged by the Troubles. He got better, over time, but back at the beginning…no, that was an act of pure kindness.

  Her suspicion that Rory was in fact the son of Minerva’s missing friend solidified in her mind.

  “My aunt thought highly of this village and its people,” Adie said politely.

  And if it wasn’t quite true, the old lady didn’t need to be any the wiser.

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” Sadie said with a gentle smile. “But she was foolish with her plans, wasn’t she? Encouraging that monster. The one who poisoned your dog. She should have known better.”

  This was surprising news. She didn’t think anyone knew about her aunt’s decision to offer money to her nephew-by-marriage if Adie failed to solve the mysteries.

  “Oh, aye, we all know about it,” Sadie went on, obviously reading her stunned expression correctly. “That man came in here a few weeks back, all smarmy-faced and putting on airs, driving his big fancy car and wearing his thousand pound suit. Asked about Minerva and her farm, but I didn’t tell him no’wt. None of us would, you understand. We’re loyal to our own.”

  From the way she smiled at Adie, the younger woman knew Sadie considered her part of their ‘own’.

  For a few heartbeats Sadie held her gaze, waiting for the signal to go on.

  Adie nodded, encouraging her to keep going. This was information she needed to hear. Anything that concerned Winsley concerned her.

  Nodding, the old lady resumed her
story. “Then, just as he was leaving, he got a call. He stood there at the door swearing like a sailor at you and his aunt, saying you weren’t going to get his money. He called you an ignorant Yank, of all things. The nerve! And he told whoever he was talking to that you weren’t going to solve the mysteries. He was going to make sure of it.”

  Adie’s mouth fell open. This was the kind of proof they needed. This was evidence. Up until now they’d only suspected he was the one trying to break into the farmhouse. Though nothing actually tied him to the bait placed out for Jig.

  “He said he’d make sure I wouldn’t solve the mysteries?” Adie checked.

  “He ranted and raved for quite some time. Not quite sane, if you ask me. Said his aunt was a gold digger who’d cheated him out of his inheritance. And her guilty conscience had made her offer him these crumbs. Crumbs he called the millions he’d get if you didn’t solve her mysteries!”

  “Did he know what the mysteries were?” Adie demanded, getting excited now.

  The woman scrunched up her face and shook her head. “Not exactly. No. He seemed to be trying to find that out from the man on the other end of the line. Like he’d put one of those cyber-investigators onto it.”

  Sadie let out a frustrated sigh. “I wish I could remember exactly what he said, but except for a few words that stuck in my head, all I can remember is the general gist of the conversation. He didn’t outright say he was going to try to break into the farmhouse, but he said something like…” She paused, as if trying to remember the exact wording. “Like… there’d be digital copies on memory sticks at the farm. He’d try to get those. The other man’s job was to find them on the cloud. That’s how I knew he was some kind of hacker or such.”

  So, at the time he’d been trying to find out where the farm was, he’d known about her aunt’s digital files. Clearly, since then he’d found the location of the farmhouse and tried to break in; failed because of Jig, and poisoned the dog to get rid of the impediment. He hadn’t known about the alarm system, or he wouldn’t have tried to break in with a crowbar. And as there had been no alarms set off since the baiting, the man hadn’t made another attempt.