Death at the Duck Pond

by J New

  With the pillows propped up behind her and the tray on her lap, she ate her breakfast with one hand while holding a book in the other, flipping the pages between bites. Although she owned an e-book reader courtesy of her day job, she preferred the experience of a physical book in her hands. She felt the time would probably arrive when physical books would become extinct, but she hoped it was a long time in the future.

  At some point between hearing the traffic report on the radio and debating whether to go back downstairs to make more tea, she heard a yap from Fischer. Turning, she saw him standing in the bedroom doorway.

  “Well, you took your time, have you come for your toast?”

  Fischer barreled into the room and sat obediently on the rug at Penny’s command, patiently waiting for the promised treats, and taking them gently from her hand as she held them out.

  Penny was contemplating whether Fischer could be trusted upstairs by himself if she went back down to the kitchen, when there was a sharp rap on the front door. She momentarily froze.

  “Ssh.” Raising a finger to her mouth, she stared at Fischer, who she could see was itching to move. In a whisper, she added, “It’s probably Edward. If you give the game away, I’ll have to talk to him. Be quiet and let him think we’re out on our walk. If he tries to find us in the village, he’ll be out of luck.”

  The rapping on the door started up again, louder this time. Fischer jumped up onto all fours and started dancing around, yipping excitedly.

  “Fischer! Come over here.” Penny patted the bed. If Fischer made any more noise or went running down to the door, she was done for. Greeting Edward in her fleece pyjamas, with an extreme case of bed-head was not how she envisaged their showdown.

  Edward, it seemed, had other ideas. It was all Penny could do to stop Fischer jumping out of her arms after he had joined her on the bed when the door knocker rattled once more.

  “Honestly, that man is unbelievable.” Penny let Fischer out of her grasp and got out of bed. One look in the mirror and her mind was made up. There was no way she was having any sort of conversation with anyone looking like this. And who, if not Edward, would think nothing of banging someone’s door down at eight in the morning?

  She walked across the room and hauled up the sash. Shouting out of windows wasn’t something she normally did, but there was no getting through to someone like Edward. She had let him walk all over her for far too long. Now was the time to make it clear she had had enough.

  Leaning out of the window, she shouted down. “Edward, please go away! Can’t you just leave me alone? I thought I’d made it clear I don’t want to speak to you right now.”

  Her mouth fell open as a man walked into view and a pair of steely eyes looked up at her.

  She gulped. “Good morning, Inspector. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  Penny glanced around the bedroom for Fischer, but he had already bolted. She inwardly berated herself for not having recognised his excitement at their early-morning guest. She should have known Edward never got a welcome like that from Fischer.

  Considering she had already kept the Inspector waiting for several minutes, she hurriedly pulled on her dressing gown and slippers and went downstairs to let him in.

  “Sorry about that. I thought you were someone else,” she said sheepishly, leading him through to the living room.

  “No problem. Happens all the time.”

  Penny motioned to an armchair and Monroe sat down, a bemused expression on his face. She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the case of mistaken identity, or people shouting out of windows at him. “Would you like a cup of tea? I was just about to make some.”

  He hesitated, and then smiled. “Please. Milk, no sugar thanks.”

  Penny was glad of the excuse to escape to the kitchen for a few minutes to compose herself. Taming her unruly locks would be impossible, so the next best thing was to act as if she was completely unfazed at receiving company with her hair looking as though she’d just been struck by lightning. Monroe, meanwhile, who she could hear playing with Fischer on the other side of the archway, looked as dashing and handsome as ever, even at this hour.

  She stirred the mugs of tea and took a deep breath, carrying them back into the living room.

  “Thanks.” Monroe said, pushing some books out of the way, so Penny could set the mugs down on the coffee table. “I’m sorry for calling on you like this without warning, but I’ve got some good news. We’ve solved the mystery of who wrote the threatening note. I wanted to let you know right away. It was James Donaldson, the gardener at the manor. We’ve been watching him for a while, but until we caught him red-handed, I couldn’t say anything.”

  “Really?” Penny was confused. “Red-handed doing what?” She thought of the golf club leaning against the wall upstairs beside her bed and shuddered. She hoped he hadn’t murdered someone else.

  “He has been stealing valuable items from the manor. Mrs Montague reported several things missing before she died, and she suspected he might be involved. Since then, Winstoke Auction House and the local antique shops have been instructed to let us know if he brought anything in to be valued or sold. He got greedy in the last week or so since his employer died, and we’ve had several calls about him doing the rounds getting valuations. We caught him dropping a load of chairs off at the auction house last night.”

  It took a while for what the Inspector was telling her to sink in. “I see. I noticed some books were missing, but I thought Milo had taken them.”

  “That’s what James was counting on. He realised he didn’t have much time left to get his hands on as much stuff as possible. He didn’t like you being around, before Milo came back. James knew his way past Celia easily enough but with you and Fischer at the house it made things more difficult for him.”

  Penny hugged her hands around the hot mug and let out a small groan. “He didn’t kill Mrs Montague, I take it?”

  Monroe shook his head. “He hoped that scaring you off would mean you’d give up the book categorisation work, keeping you away from the manor.”

  “I’m not scared that easily.” Fischer came padding over to Penny’s side, and she scratched his ears. “You had James pegged for a wrong’un straight away, didn’t you, Fish Face?” She glanced across at Monroe. “Fischer didn’t like him one bit.”

  Inspector Monroe grinned. “That doesn’t surprise me, dogs are an excellent judge of character. I hope it puts your mind at rest about Mrs Montague’s death. And as for anyone trying to harm you, there’s nothing more to worry about. No need to carry a golf club around for protection anymore.”

  Penny felt the heat rising in her cheeks, something of a regular occurrence when she was around Monroe it seemed. She sensed a hint of mirth in his eyes, and realised he was teasing her.

  Her face cracked into a smile. “I didn’t think anyone had noticed. Good detective work, Inspector.”

  Penny had a spring in her step as she followed Fischer across the green later that morning on the way to her parents’ house. Hands stuffed in the pockets of her padded anorak, she nodded in greeting to a couple walking a Great Dane. Fischer, happy to be back on his regular stomping ground, stopped at his favourite tree before he darted towards the path that led around the duck pond. Penny set off again several steps behind, pausing to let a cyclist past, and Fischer raced out of sight.

  Despite the dark sky overhead threatening rain, she had come out without an umbrella, but nothing could quell the sense of joy she felt, not even a torrential downpour. Inspector Monroe’s visit had reassured her. It was time to forget her belief the library card in the envelope had a hidden meaning, no one was coming after her and there was no point dragging things out with Edward either. She resolved to arrange to meet up with him as soon as possible. It occurred to her she wasn’t sure who was breaking up with whom, not that it mattered, but after so many years together, it was only right they fi
nished things face-to-face.

  Suddenly Fischer appeared from the rushes, which grew at the edge of the pond, covered in mud, and bounded towards her, something glinting in his mouth.

  Penny laughed. “What a dirty pup you are! I think a bath is in order when we get back. What’s that you’ve got there?”

  She bent down to retrieve the small oval object Fischer had dropped at her feet and turned it over in her palm. There was a pin on the back, and the front, although dirty, was unmistakable as a cameo. It looked familiar. Fischer gave a proud woof, wagging his tail.

  Penny gasped. “You’re a clever boy, aren’t you? I think this is Mrs Montague’s brooch. I’ll give it to Milo when we’re at the manor later. Even if it’s not valuable, I’m sure he’ll be glad to have it back as a memento. Well done, Little Man.” She placed the brooch in her pocket and bent down to pick up a stick. “There’s no point getting you cleaned up at Granny and Granddad’s. You’ll only go and do it all again on the way home, won’t you?”

  Fischer wagged his tail while she raised the stick and aimed for the rushes. No sooner than she had released it, he was off again.

  Fourteen

  “There you are, Penny. Come on in. I’ll get a towel and clean Fischer; he looks as though he’s been swimming in a swamp. Your father’s in the kitchen. He was getting worried about you.”

  Penny stepped over the rolled up rug in the wide hallway, where her mother was vacuuming. Besides daily light housework, her mother divided the house into deep-cleaning zones, taking a different one every day. Friday was the hall, stairs and landing. By the time she was finished, the skirting boards would be gleaming, the banisters dusted and polished, and the carpets vacuumed to within an inch of their lives.

  To Sheila Finch’s dismay, Penny had not inherited her tidy gene. “I don’t know how you ever find anything,” she was wont to comment when she visited Penny’s cottage. “All these piles of stuff everywhere make me want to lie down.”

  To Penny, the piles made perfect sense. She had her own little system and knew pretty much where to find anything. Attempting to explain that to her mother though was futile. When it came to organisation, it was Sheila’s way or nothing.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, cleaning his pipe.

  Penny pulled off her jacket. “Why are you doing that? I thought you gave up smoking years ago?” She walked over to the kitchen counter and lifting the kettle, filled it at the sink.

  “All the more reason to clean it.” Albert poked a pipe cleaner down the shaft. “It gets dusty in its box, you know. I might need it again someday.”

  “On one of your extended trips to the shed at the bottom of the garden, by any chance?”

  Albert’s shed was out of bounds to both Sheila and Penny, although Fischer was allowed in. Albert said he liked to get away for some peace and quiet, even though there was plenty of room in the house. It wasn’t as though he and Sheila were under each other’s feet all day. Penny had long suspected he went for a sneaky smoke down there, thinking his wife was none the wiser. It was more likely that Sheila simply turned a blind eye for a quiet life.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Albert said with an amiable wink. “Don’t tell your mother.”

  “Tell your mother what?” Sheila called from the hallway.

  “Nothing, dear. You carry on.”

  The blast of the vacuum cleaner started up again and Albert indicated to Penny to close the door. “You’re late this morning. The school bell has already gone for morning break. Everything all right?”

  “Yes. I just had a lie-in, that’s all.”

  A look of surprise crossed her father’s face. “That’s not like you.”

  Penny shrugged and gave him a half-smile. She usually told her parents everything, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to discuss her relationship situation. If she relayed what Susie had seen, her father was certain to come down on Edward like a ton of bricks. It didn’t seem fair, not having given Edward the chance to tell his side of the story.

  She paused, and the kettle clicked off. “Tea?”

  Albert harrumphed. “Fine. Tea’s your answer to everything. Change the subject if you must, I expect you’ll come clean when you’re good and ready. How’s the murder investigation coming along, by the way?”

  “What murder?” Penny laughed. “I’m pleased to say the only murder seems to have been in my imagination.”

  When she had recounted her visit from Inspector Monroe that morning, Albert was pensive. “That’s good news. As long as you’re out of danger, that’s the main thing. Nothing will bring Mrs Montague back, unfortunately. Get to the funeral early tomorrow if you want a seat. I expect there will be a big crowd.”

  Penny placed several chocolate digestive biscuits on a side plate and put them on the table in front of her father before pouring the tea. “Don’t eat them all,” she warned him, as he tucked into one with gusto.

  “You’d better tell your mother to hurry up, in that case,” Albert grumbled. “Not my fault if they’re gone before she’s finished doing the stairs.” He lifted another when Penny’s back was turned.

  “I saw that,” she said with a smile.

  “George Kelly was telling me at our book club last night he found some old photographs of his sister’s,” Albert said when Sheila had joined them. “Said there was some of your mother and me in there.” He smiled at Sheila. “Must have been when we were courting.” To Penny, he added, “I’d love to see them, if you haven’t given them to Milo already.”

  “I haven’t even looked at them,” Penny confessed. With all of the other things on her mind the previous day, she had totally forgotten about them. “They’re still in the bag Mr Kelly gave me. It’s up at the manor. I’ll take a peek when I’m there this afternoon. I’m sure Milo won’t mind if you want to borrow them for a couple of hours. If he’s there, I’ll ask him.”

  “If Milo agrees, why don’t you bring them around later, when you’re done?” Sheila added sugar and milk to her cup, the spoon clinking against the china as she stirred. “Come over for dinner. We’ve hardly seen you all week.”

  Penny hesitated. “I was hoping to see Edward tonight. We haven’t arranged anything yet, but it’s kind of important.”

  Albert raised an eyebrow. “Bring him along with you. He’s always welcome here, you know, despite the fact he doesn’t seem to like us. Luckily, your mother and I don’t take it personally.”

  So much for keeping secrets. “I’m sure that’s not true, Dad, it’s just Edward’s way. But it will be a bit difficult under the circumstances. The thing is…” Penny looked at each of her parents in turn. “We’ve kind of split up.”

  Albert spluttered on his tea.

  “Kind of?” Sheila said gently.

  “I mean, we have, but we just haven’t talked about it yet. I was planning on asking him to meet me later.” If he’s not got a prior date, Penny thought to herself.

  Sheila exchanged a worried look with Albert, who spoke up. “How do you feel about this, Penny? Are you okay?”

  Penny lowered her gaze. The knot in her chest indicated the hurt was still there, no matter how brave a face she tried to put on. There was no disguising that from her parents. “I will be. But if it’s all right with you, I’ll skip dinner. I could drop off the photos later, though, and maybe you could watch Fischer for me? Edward’s always been a little bit jealous of him, so it’s best if he’s not there.” She glanced over at Fischer. “You don’t mind, do you, Fish Face?”

  Fischer was playing with a knitted draught excluder in the guise of a snake, and he ignored her, more interested in wrestling with his quarry than the conversation about his rival for Penny’s affection.

  Albert cleared his throat. “Of course, we’ll mind Fischer. Do we have any sherry, Sheila?”

  Sheila frowned. �
�Whatever for? Don’t you think it’s a bit early, dear?”

  “It’s never too early to toast our daughter’s future.” He reached across the table and squeezed Penny’s hand. “Don’t you worry. Everything will work out for the best. I won’t ask the details of what happened, but I always thought you two were an odd match. You’re too good for him, Penny. I’m just glad you’ve come to your senses at last.”

  “You sound just like Susie,” Penny sighed. “If you thought so badly of him, why didn’t you tell me? You’ve had six years to say something.”

  Albert gave the back of her hand another pat. “It’s not for us to interfere, you’re a grown woman. Besides I never said I thought badly of him, just that you didn’t seem compatible. But I admit to thinking he is selfish and self absorbed, not the sort of man I’d wish you to settle down with. But we had to hope you would figure it out for yourself.”

  “I think I did, deep down, a long time ago,” Penny admitted. “It just took me a while to face it. Edward’s not a bad man, he’s just a bit…” She struggled to find the right word. Arrogant? Over-bearing? Patronising? All of those adjectives were applicable, along with quite a few more.

  “…of a plonker?” Albert interjected.

  His wife admonished him with a stern look as he threw back his head and began to laugh. Penny and her mother exchanged glances, and then they too began to laugh with him. It was just what Penny needed.

  Penny had intended to look at the photos as soon as she arrived at the manor, but was waylaid by Celia, who had other ideas, and pulled Penny into the kitchen as soon as she arrived.

  “I suppose you’ve heard about James?” she said, clicking the door shut. She was baking, her apron covered in flour. “As if I don’t have enough on my plate already. After the police were here earlier, Her Ladyship’s only delegated more for me to do. Who does she think she is?”