Death at the Duck Pond

by J New

  “Sure.”

  Penny’s worries from the night before had evaporated with the morning light, and she was determined not to be intimidated by some coward hiding behind an anonymous note. “It’s about Mrs Montague. She ate at the Pig and Fiddle the night she died. Were you working that night?”

  Katy nodded. “I always work on Thursdays. It’s busy at the quiz night, so the tips are good.”

  “Do you remember seeing her?”

  “Yes. Only because she came in before the rush. She sat in the nook in the lounge, rather than the restaurant. I remember she said she would only have a small glass of wine with her meal, as she was driving later. When the quiz started, she was in the thick of it all, just how she liked it.” Katy smiled at Fischer, who was dancing around her feet as if to mimic her jogging action. Looking back at Penny, she added, “She threw in a few answers to some of the questions even though she wasn’t on a team.”

  “Did you notice if she was with anyone, or did anyone join her?”

  “I don’t think so,” Katy said, short of breath. “She was by herself when she came up to the bar to pay her bill. But I couldn’t be sure, Penny. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks, Katy. See you soon.”

  “I’ve got favour to ask of you as well, if you don’t mind. I’ve finished the book I got last week, the one about the college student who has a passionate affair with the rich entrepreneur. I wondered if the other two books in the trilogy are available?”

  Penny grinned. “We have several copies. I’ll see what I can do before the van’s back in Cherrytree Downs on Thursday.”

  “Brilliant, thanks, Penny.” Katy ran off with a backward wave.

  Penny unlocked the van and stowed the golf club across the front seat, Fischer hopping in beside it. Just because she wasn’t running scared, didn’t mean she was going to take any chances.

  The routine of her working day was comforting. Rowan Downs, the library van’s stop on Monday mornings, was quiet apart from half-a-dozen or so regulars. Penny took the opportunity to catch up on paperwork, including updating the list of overdue books. The mobile-library service was not computerised like the main library in Winstoke, making it necessary for Penny to keep manual records. It wasn’t ideal, but Hantchester Council, whose jurisdiction the library service was under, had refused several requests for a tablet device that could be synchronised with the main library computer to make the process quicker. If Penny had a tablet of her own she would have used it, but it was something she had never got around to buying, and her ancient laptop computer wasn’t up to the job.

  A familiar voice greeted her as she was finishing up, and her face lit up when she turned around. “Hello, Mr Kelly. Have you come to take me up on my offer of first dibs on the new mystery books?”

  Penny regarded Mr Kelly. The years had taken their toll on his weathered face, but his soft blue eyes shone in earnest. “Indeed, I have. I also heard about Myrtle Montague’s generous donation to the library. I wanted to volunteer my services, if you need any help with cataloguing the books. I don’t have a CV, just a healthy respect for the written word.”

  “I think I can take your retired headmaster credentials in good faith.” She checked her watch. “It’s almost lunchtime. Would you like to share my sandwiches, and we can talk? We can sit in the front of the van. Or, I have a blanket we can put on top of the bench, if you prefer to sit outside?”

  The van was parked at Pike’s Cross in the centre of Rowan Downs. The overnight rain had dried up, but she didn’t want either of them to catch a chill.

  Mr Kelly considered the options. “Let’s get some fresh air.” He climbed out of the van and shuffled the few steps to the bench.

  Penny turned the key on the metal box where the fines were kept and closed the doors of the van. She removed a blanket, her plastic lunch-box and two small bottles of water out of the front, before joining Mr Kelly at the bench. Fischer scurried along at her heels.

  “Here we go,” she said, arranging the blanket on top of the knotted planks and handing her companion a bottle of water. “I always keep a few of these in the van.” When they were both seated, she opened her lunch-box and unfolded the greaseproof paper.

  Mr Kelly peered across.

  “I hope you like egg and cress.” She offered him the box, pushing it towards him.

  “Only if you’re sure,” he said, but he had already started to reach for a sandwich. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “I’m glad of the company. Fischer isn’t very talkative, so we have a lot of one-way conversations.” She glanced down at Fischer, who was waiting to see if any crumbs were heading in his direction. “Good boy.” She petted him. “Go play, and I’ll fill your water bowl.”

  Fischer didn’t need to be told twice, trotting off on the grass behind them, tail wagging ten to the dozen and nose to the ground as he sought new smells to follow.

  “I remember Myrtle Montague from when I was growing up,” Mr Kelly said, between bites. “She was a fine lady even then, always a kind word for everyone. And quite the beauty as well, may I add.” He smiled, his face creasing in a myriad of tiny lines.

  Penny sensed an opportunity to gently tease him. “Do I detect some romance between the two of you in the past?”

  “I may have had a fleeting crush, but it was all on my side I’m afraid, and a long, long time ago, before I met my wife. In my defence, Myrtle was a few years older than me, so there was never any chance she would have looked my way,” he said, wiping a crumb off the side of his mouth. “She was my sister’s age, and I was the annoying little brother no one paid attention to.”

  “Was she from around these parts?”

  “She was a cousin of the Pikes’ and used to visit for the summer holidays and stay with her grandparents in the big farmhouse. Her family lived in Cornwall, and she had a wild streak we local children found fascinating. She could climb trees higher than any of the boys, and she skipped and played hopscotch better than any of the girls. We didn’t quite know what to make of her.”

  “It sounds like she was a lot of fun.”

  “She was.” Mr Kelly took a sip of his water. “Anyway, to go back to your original question, apart from the fact I was too young to be on her radar, she only ever had eyes for her husband-to-be. Once she started going out with Daniel, no one else had a look-in. Daniel Montague was quite a catch as well, I should add. He had everything going for him, money, charm, good looks as well as brains. I’d say there were a few young ladies with broken hearts when he took up with Myrtle.”

  “Surely no one would have held that against her?” Penny said. “From what I can tell, she was such a nice person it would be hard to be angry with her about anything. That’s why…” Her voice trailed off. That’s why it was hard to believe anyone would have killed her.

  Mr Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Penny?”

  Just as Penny was deliberating whether to confide in Mr Kelly, they were interrupted by the sound of a black Land Rover pulling up at the side of the road. Inspector Monroe got out and approached the bench.

  He greeted them with an awkward, but not unfriendly, nod. “Good afternoon, Penny. Mr Kelly.” It was only when Fischer came bounding across the grass that his face cracked into a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch, but would you have a moment to speak in private, please, Penny?”

  “Of course.” Penny got up and followed the Inspector to the side of the Land Rover.

  His face was solemn. “Everything okay, Penny?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Penny had a feeling the purpose of his visit was more than just to check on her welfare, and it turned out she was right.

  “I wanted to let you know Mrs Montague’s autopsy has been completed and the coroner has decided no further investigation is required. There were indications of hypothermia, and concussion as a
result of minor head trauma, the likely cause of which was hitting her head on one of the boulders in the pond. Given her age, the poor visibility by the duck pond and the slippery conditions, there’s no reason to suspect foul play. It will be ruled as an accidental death.”

  “I see.” Penny, aware the Inspector was studying her reaction, wasn’t sure what else to say. A part of her was relieved, but another part of her was still reluctant to believe it.

  When Monroe spoke again, his voice was gentle, but firm. “It’s time to let it go, Penny. There was no murder, no mystery. There won’t be any inquest. Whoever sent you that note is likely just a local person with a grudge about something. They wanted to rattle your nerves, and it worked. It happens sometimes in small communities where spiteful people have nothing better to do. Hopefully, nothing more will come of it.”

  “I understand. Thanks, Inspector. I appreciate you coming over to let me know.”

  “That’s no problem. Take care, Penny.”

  She watched him get back into the car and drive off before she turned and walked back towards the bench. Mr Kelly threw a stick for Fischer to fetch, and by the time she sat down again, Penny had made a decision. “I’d love it if you could help me with Mrs Montague’s books, Mr Kelly, but only if you accept some of the payment that comes with the task.”

  “Absolutely not. I’d be insulted,” Mr Kelly replied with a frown. “If there’s money involved, Myrtle intended for you to have it. I want for nothing and my outgoings are low. You can make a charitable donation on my behalf, if you insist.” He folded his arms. “But that’s my final word on the matter.”

  “Fine. I’d be happy to do that.” Fischer reappeared and dropped the stick on the ground at their feet. Penny picked it up and hurled it as far as she could, sending Fischer tearing off again. “The thing is, there’s something else. Would you mind if I run it past you?”

  Mr Kelly tilted his head. “Anything to do with Inspector Monroe’s little visit, by any chance?”

  Penny nodded, and began to fill him in.

  When she was finished, Mr Kelly sighed. “I can see why you think there might be more to Myrtle’s death. Although it seems as far as the Inspector’s concerned, you should probably refrain from any more meddling, as he would likely call it.” He paused, and his eyes twinkled. “Of course, he never said any such thing to me. Nothing to stop me asking around if anyone saw Myrtle on her walk the night she died, eh?”

  Penny’s face lit up. “Thank you, Mr Kelly. That would put my mind at rest. It’s great to have you on board. Again!”

  Fischer dropped the slobbery stick at her feet and woofed.

  She leaned down to stroke him. “Of course, we’re not forgetting you, Fish Face. You’re the best detective of all.”

  Ten

  Later that evening, sitting on the floor engrossed in a book about the history of The Detection Club, Penny came back to reality with a start when Celia peeked around the door of the library at the manor and said in a soft voice, “I’m going up to my rooms now, Penny. There’s no problem if you’re not finished, just close the front door on your way out. I’ll lock up when I’m making my supper.”

  Penny, stretching out her arms with a yawn, caught sight of her watch and clambered to her feet. “I completely lost track of the time. Fischer and I should be off as well. By the time we’ve eaten and had our walk, it will be bedtime.” She began to gather her things, stepping over the various piles of books splayed across the floor. “I should probably do more work and less reading if I’m ever to get this finished.” The truth was she was in no hurry to finish the task at all. Lost in a literary world of discovery, she would be sorry when the books had all been sorted and sent to their various destinations. There was some consolation in the fact that books she had earmarked for the mobile library would be staying close to home.

  Celia stepped into the room and took a treat out of her pocket for Fischer. She held it out near floor-level, and he appeared, as if from nowhere, to claim it. “Here you go, you little scamp,” she said, releasing the treat with a chuckle. To Penny, she added, “Take as long as you like, I’m glad you’re here. I can’t get used to Mrs Montague not being around. Even though I might not have seen her most of the time, there was always comfort in the knowledge of someone else being in the house. Does that make sense?”

  “Perfect sense. I like knowing Fischer’s nearby somewhere, even when he’s off doing his own thing.” Noting Celia was much more collected than she had been at the weekend, Penny decided to broach the question that had been bothering her. “Celia, you said you didn’t realise Mrs Montague wasn’t home from her walk when you came back from the cinema, the night she had her accident. Did you not notice her Land Rover wasn’t parked outside?”

  “Of course. But as she was going to the Pig and Fiddle for dinner, I thought she must have had a drink and left the car in the village. She never would have driven after so much as a drop of alcohol. And she would have had no shortage of offers of a lift up the hill, I’m sure.”

  “That’s true,” Penny mused. The explanation raised another possibility in her mind. What if Mrs Montague’s meeting had passed without incident, but then she had been murdered by someone who’d offered her a lift home? Someone who said their car was parked on the other side of the green, giving them cause to walk past the duck pond. “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Please do, dear. I’ll help in any way I can.”

  Penny’s mind was whirring up a gear. “Once you’re in your rooms, if Mrs Montague had come home and then gone out again, would you have been any the wiser?”

  “Actually, probably not. It’s a big house, and as I’ve told the women in my knitting group, as soon as I’m asleep a sledgehammer wouldn’t wake me.”

  They were interrupted by a clatter from outside, and Penny was glad of the distraction. Having been warned off the topic of murder by Inspector Monroe, she didn’t want to alert Celia to her thought process. It seemed to Penny, anyone familiar with the women’s routine and living arrangements at the manor would know there was a good chance if something happened to Myrtle on her walk, no-one would be any the wiser until the next day.

  Celia peered out of the window into the darkness beyond. “It’s only James, carting stuff around in the golf buggy. He’s been clearing some rubbish from the outhouses. Looks like he’s knocked over a plant pot.”

  Fischer growled.

  “It’s all right little guy, he can’t hurt you,” Penny said, crouching down to settle him. “Fischer had a run-in with James the other day,” she explained to Celia. “Why’s he working in the dark? Would it not make more sense to do outdoor work during daylight? No wonder he’s bumping into things.”

  Celia shrugged. “He keeps his own hours, just to be contrary as far as I can tell. I had a sharp word for him earlier, let me tell you.”

  Fischer woofed in approval.

  “Why was that?” Penny asked, bemused at Fischer’s vocal support for Celia.

  “Mrs Montague had been on at him to clear the outhouses for a long time. It was a bone of contention between them. When I realised they still weren’t done, I told him he should be ashamed of himself. He’s been at it ever since. That woman was so good to him, and he never showed her a jot of appreciation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Celia’s face reddened, such was her annoyance, and she let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s supposed to do odd jobs around the place as well as the gardening, otherwise he would be out of work for most of the winter months. Mrs Montague never wanted to see anyone short of money, you see. He lives in one of the cottages on the estate, rent-free. Most decent folk would have been grateful for an employer like ours, but not James. He bad-mouthed her at every opportunity. Well, I’ve told him, I won’t hear a word against her. She’s gone now, may she rest in peace.”

  James, Penny decided, was well-placed to be awar
e of Mrs Montague’s comings and goings, and was worth investigating further, especially if he and Myrtle didn’t get along.

  Celia walked over to the window and pulled the wooden shutters closed, clicking the catch on the locking bar to secure them. A draught from the window caused them to rattle. “Master Milo will be home tomorrow, so that’s something. Apparently, his wife’s not joining him until later in the week, and I’m not sure if their children will be attending the funeral at all. To think of how long I spent preparing all those rooms, for nothing.” She pursed her lips, the look on her face registering disapproval.

  “What’s Milo like?” Penny asked, snapping her laptop shut and stuffing it into its case. “I think I’ve only met him the once. It was at the Summer Fete, a long time ago.” She tried to remember. It was when Ellen, Susie’s daughter was a baby. Ellen had cried the whole day and Mrs Montague had taken the pram to give Susie a break, introducing Milo to her and Susie then. “Ten years, give or take.”

  “At least.” Celia sniffed. “To think, he was such a nice little boy. I can remember him running around in short trousers as if it were yesterday. He adored his mother, and she worshipped him. She didn’t want to send him away to school, but Mr Montague insisted. Said it would be the makings of him. Mrs Montague went along with it, but if it had been up to her she would have kept her son at home. Milo was always a mummy’s boy and Mrs Montague was far too soft with him. In the end, he disappointed both of his parents. Such a shame.”

  Intrigued, Penny tried to keep her reply casual. “Really? Why was that?” She remembered her father’s suspicions about a family disagreement, and Celia appeared to be referring to the same thing.

  “I didn’t see him much after he started university. He was accepted for a Medical Officer Cadetship in the Royal Navy. Did you know that?”

  Penny shook her head. “I had no idea he was a doctor.”

  “He’s not. He got kicked out of his medical course at university, and the Navy to boot. That was the start of it. The road to ruin.”