Death at the Duck Pond

by J New

  “So where’s Mrs Nelson headed?”

  “Cape Town, but here’s the thing. She has an open ticket.”

  Penny exhaled. “You mean, she might not be coming back? Maybe she’s waiting for the heat to die down before returning, not that there’s really been any.”

  “True, but she wouldn’t have known that when she booked it, which, incidentally, was a while ago. The travel agent asked if I would be staying with Mrs Nelson or if I needed accommodation.” He chuckled. “She jumped to that conclusion all by herself. That’s how rumours start, I suppose.”

  “Just out of interest, what did you tell her?”

  “I said she’d best give me some hotel prices, just in case I didn’t get lucky. The word will be all over the Downs before long.”

  “If Archie Cryer finds out, you’ll be in next week’s Gazette.”

  “That might not be the only thing in next week’s Gazette. It gets far better than that.” Mr Kelly’s tone had turned serious. “Or worse, depending on how you look at it.”

  “Go on.”

  Even Fischer had his ears cocked at this point.

  “I did some searching on-line and found some interesting history about our friend, Mrs Nelson. She made the South African headlines a couple of years ago after her second husband was shot dead by an intruder at their home in Cape Town. Mr Nelson was a high-profile businessman, and they lived in a gated community in one of the exclusive suburbs of the city. She wasn’t home at the time, and subsequently made a televised plea for help tracking down the murderer. There was a substantial reward on offer. No motive was ever established, and nothing was stolen, despite the fact her husband was wearing an expensive watch and there were valuable art works on display in the house.”

  “Did anyone come forward?”

  “Yes, but not in the way she expected. Someone who saw her on television recognised her from the theatre the same night her husband was killed. She missed the first half of the show and only arrived after the interval. Thinking the seat next to him was vacant, the man had left his coat on it. She had a few sharp words for him apparently, and the gist of it was she came out of it looking badly. Certainly not the softly-spoken, bereaved widow she had portrayed to the public on television.”

  “If she only got there at the interval, did that not call her alibi into question?”

  “Indeed, it did. She said she was only a couple of minutes late for the performance and the theatre doors had already closed. No one was allowed to enter the auditorium after curtain-up. She had a drink in the bar instead and got into conversation with the bartender, who remembered her. No charges were ever brought as there was no forensic evidence and the murder weapon was never found. It’s a cold case, but it does leave a potential question mark hanging over her head.”

  Penny’s mind was working overtime. “If she was guilty, how magnanimous of her to offer a reward, she knew there wasn’t really an intruder, and the money would never be claimed. It’s quite clever when you think about it.” She continued to voice her thoughts aloud. “We know Mrs Nelson was at the cinema the night Mrs Montague died, but she could have made a point of speaking to various people in the foyer beforehand, so they would remember seeing her. For the purpose of her alibi, she’d also have bought a ticket. Then, instead of going into the movie, she could have slipped out. If she got away with something similar once, why not again? I’ve just read Susie’s review of the film in the Gazette which said there was one empty seat at the performance. We have no proof it was Mrs Nelson’s, but the CCTV will show if she left early. What do you think we should do?”

  There was silence at the other end of the line.

  “Mr Kelly, are you still there?”

  “Yes, Penny. I think Inspector Monroe needs to be told as soon as possible.”

  “I agree.” Penny was already getting up off the sofa. “Shall I pick you up on the way to Winstoke?

  “Penny, if it weren’t for you, there would be no investigation. And Fischer, of course, finding the brooch like that, was quite remarkable. I think the two of you should go. It’s getting late, and I’m going to have a cup of cocoa and call it a night. You don’t mind, do you? This old man has had quite enough excitement for one day.”

  “Of course, Mr Kelly. I’ll let you know what the Inspector says.”

  “Thanks. Oh, and before you go, I almost forgot. There’s something else I should mention, about Mrs Nelson’s first husband. Are you sitting down?”

  Penny plopped back down onto the couch. “I am now.”

  “The unfortunate chap also met with an untimely death, falling overboard from a cruise ship after too much to drink. At the inquest, his grieving widow said he had mental health problems, implying he took his own life, but an open verdict was recorded. He owned a mine and left her a wealthy woman.”

  “Good grief, Mr Kelly, this is all beginning to sound unbelievable.”

  “Isn’t it. But sometimes the truth is even stranger than fiction.”

  “It sounds like Daniel Montague had a lucky escape. If he hadn’t fallen for Myrtle, Dawn might have made it a hat trick.”

  “If she gets on that plane on Sunday, she still could.”

  Penny looked around for the van keys. “I have a feeling Inspector Monroe might take some convincing, but I’ll do my best.”

  To Penny’s surprise, persuading Inspector Monroe there was merit in her theory about Mrs Nelson wasn’t as difficult as she had anticipated, although that didn’t mean he was willing to do anything about it.

  They were in his office in Winstoke precinct, a small windowless cube, as no interview rooms were free. Glancing around, Penny thought if her mother had been there to see the towering piles of paperwork stacked on every available surface, she would have deemed the books, letters and magazines in Penny’s cottage as amateur at best. Monroe had moved a box off a chair so Penny could sit down, and Fischer was snuggled on her knee.

  “Hmm.” He drummed his fingers on the desk, deep in thought, and Penny waited anxiously for him to respond to the evidence she had presented. Along with the old photograph of Dawn at the dance, she had also brought the brooch as well as the newspaper containing the film review penned by Susie. He spent some time scrutinising the photo, placing the brooch alongside it, before he looked up with a frown.

  “I don’t know Mrs Nelson, but if you and Mr Kelly are telling me she’s the person in this fifty-year-old photo, I’m willing to take your word for it. You’ve done a good job piecing all this together, and for what it’s worth, I think you could be on to something, but I’m afraid my hands are tied. There’s no concrete evidence to support the police taking any action. We can’t just go around arresting little old ladies every time they give someone a dirty look. The cells would be overflowing.”

  Penny’s face dropped. “Surely, you can at least question her about her alibi? We’ve established a motive and found a personal item that puts her at the scene. If we can prove she was lying about being at the cinema the whole time, then she must have something to hide.”

  “I agree there could be something, especially given this lady’s marital history. I’d have to contact the South African authorities to get more information, but if she was never charged with anything, the fact her former spouses met with unfortunate deaths is neither here nor there. The brooch…” He shrugged. “I agree it looks the same as the one in the photograph, but we can’t prove it was hers without forensic evidence. I’d be willing to bet there are a lot of women in her age group who have similar cameo brooches. I know my mother does.”

  “Yes, mine does too.” Penny sighed, glancing down at Fischer, who was gazing at her with sad eyes. She knew how he felt.

  Inspector Monroe was on a roll. “Also, even if the brooch does turn out to be hers, she could have lost it any time. The cinema theory is just that, a theory, and it won’t hold water without camera footage showing t
he times she arrived and left the cinema.”

  “How long do you think it would take to check with the cinema, and is that something you would be prepared to do?”

  Monroe was silent for a while. When he spoke again, it was with a tired smile. “I suppose I could look into it. But there are strict protocols to follow. I can start the process with the cinema manager, and I can contact my counterpart in South Africa in the morning, but there’s not much time before Mrs Nelson leaves on Sunday. Forensics on the brooch are out of the question without a legitimate reason for the request, it’s a costly business and our budget is stretched as it is. Besides it would take too long to get the results, and with no other proof we have no reason to detain her.”

  Penny’s shoulders slumped. She knew the Inspector was right. She also had a feeling, if Dawn Nelson got on that plane on Sunday, that would be the last they would ever see of her.

  Monroe was jotting something down in a notebook. “What did Susie have to say?” he asked, without looking up. “Did she notice Mrs Nelson at the cinema at all?”

  “I haven’t spoken to her about it. She mentioned she had seen the movie, but I didn’t realise it was on the same night until I read her review this evening. Sorry, I’ve had a lot going on this week.” Penny couldn’t believe she had been so remiss. She had an awful feeling she was going to cry. “I’ll call her quickly now.”

  She spent longer than necessary leaning down to rummage in her bag for her phone and by the time she retrieved it she was more composed. Swiping through the list of recent calls, she pressed on Susie’s name.

  “Hi, Susie, it’s me. I can’t explain all the details now, but I’m with Inspector Monroe. I’m putting you on the speaker phone, okay?”

  Penny pressed another button, and Susie’s tinny voice came through the speaker. “Sure. What’s going on?”

  Monroe spoke up. “Mrs Hughes, can you remember seeing Mrs Nelson at the cinema on the opening night of the Hollywood musical you reviewed, by any chance?”

  “I did, as it happens.”

  Penny’s heart sank. She exchanged a look with Monroe, whose face was unreadable.

  “She can’t have seen the movie though,” Susie continued, “She was scurrying out the front doors as I was coming in. I’m sure it was her. I was late, and she was the only other person around.”

  Monroe’s expression flickered, meanwhile Penny gave Fischer a hug and he let out a joyous bark in response.

  “Thank you, Mrs Hughes. I think that’s all we need for now.” Penny looked at Monroe for confirmation, and he nodded back.

  “See you tomorrow at the funeral, Susie?” Penny said.

  “Yes, I’ll be there. Bye, for now.”

  “Now what?” Penny asked, turning off her phone, hardly able to contain her grin. “Can you arrest Mrs Nelson?”

  Monroe placed his arms behind his head. “No. I’m sorry, Penny, but it’s still too tenuous.”

  “I have an idea.” Penny lowered her voice, and looked around, even though the door was closed.

  “Yes, I thought you might. Go on.”

  “What if Mrs Nelson confessed? Say, if she were to confide in me tomorrow, at the funeral? And you just happen to be nearby and overhear the whole thing?”

  “Entrapment, you mean?” Monroe sucked in his breath. “That’s illegal.”

  Fischer barked, and Penny quieted him by knuckling his ears. “That’s a shame. I’ll be sorry to see Mrs Montague put to rest, knowing her murderer’s walking free.” She held Monroe’s gaze long enough for his steely eyes to soften.

  “Alright, you’ve made your point,” he said at last. “I suppose we’d better talk this through. No promises mind you.”

  As Albert Finch had predicted, the village church was packed with mourners paying their last respects to Mrs Montague. The sun shone for the first time in days, not that anyone was surprised, the whispered word being that Myrtle had friends in high places. Cherrytree Downs came to a standstill for one of their own, and that day was no exception, the local scout group forming a guard of honour outside the church, and the Hampsworthy choir raising the roof on the inside. Vibrant floral arrangements brought a blaze of colour to the altar, and during the eulogy the vicar reminded everyone of the indomitable spirit and unrelenting kindness of Myrtle Montague, drawing happy tears as well as sad ones from many.

  Penny hung back by the only door, having declined the offer of a seat from Dr Jones in order to ensure she did not miss Dawn Nelson on her way out. She reached out a hand to Celia as she passed by, one of the first to leave the church after Milo and his wife, following the pallbearers on the way to the graveyard at the rear of the church. Her parents had been sitting near the front with Susie, and would be some of the last out, and Penny motioned that she would see them outside.

  “Hello, Mrs Potter,” Penny said, falling into step beside her. To Mrs Potter’s companion, she turned and smiled. “Mrs Nelson, how are you? I wasn’t sure if you would be here today.”

  Mrs Nelson’s reply was snappy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “It’s just that you said you were busy with your holiday coming up. How long are you going away for?’

  “You’re such a snoop, Penny.” The older woman’s face was twisted into a sneer. “Go and stick your nose into someone else’s business, and stop bothering me, or I’ll report you to that policeman you like so much.” With that, she stomped off, leaving Penny staring after her in amusement.

  “Come on, Fish Face. We’ll follow a little behind and speak to her again in a minute or two. Remember, we need to steer her towards the big oak tree.”

  She waved over at Susie, who had just come out of the church, and was charging towards her like a woman on a mission.

  “Care to tell me why you were with Inspector Monroe last night, asking questions about…”

  Penny shot her a warning look. “Ssh. Don’t say another word. I’ll tell you later.”

  “Oh. Right, okay. Your mum and dad are talking to Mr and Mrs Evans. They said to go on ahead.”

  They walked along the stone path towards the grave, where a large group of mourners were already standing. Suddenly Fischer swerved off to the left, dashing toward a giant oak.

  “Oh, no,” Penny muttered.

  Susie stopped and stared. “What’s Fischer doing? He’s dancing around that tree like a mad thing.”

  “Probably seen a squirrel, I’ll just go and check. I’ll catch you up.” She set off over the grass towards the tree, glancing behind at Susie, who was still watching them with a quizzical smile. “Go on,” Penny urged her. “We won’t be long.”

  “Righty-oh,” Susie said, continuing down the path.

  Penny addressed the tree in a low voice. “Hello.”

  “Hello,” whispered Monroe, from somewhere out of sight.

  She smiled and patted her leg. “Heel, Fischer. That’s a good boy. Come on.” Spotting Mrs Nelson wiping her cheeks with a tissue, she made her way to stand beside her.

  “Not you again.” She hissed.

  “Afraid so. Can we have a word in private, please?”

  “Absolutely not. If you’ve got anything to say to me, you can say it in front of my friends.” Mrs Potter and Mrs Wilkins looked around and nodded in unison.

  “I see. Let me just run something past you first, if that’s all right.” Penny leaned over and whispered in Mrs Nelson’s ear. “Good act with the crocodile tears. But I know you killed Myrtle.”

  Mrs Potter piped up. “Everything all right, Dawn? Your face is a strange colour.”

  Penny nodded. “That’s what I thought. I was worried. Why don’t you come with me, Mrs Nelson, and get some breathing space away from all these people? Here, hold on to my arm.”

  Mrs Nelson gave her a beady glare, and let Penny lead her up towards the tree. Fischer darted off again.

  “Penny F
inch, I’ve had just about enough of your nonsense. Singling me out for bad treatment at the library is one thing, but this takes the biscuit. It was a terrible accident, how Myrtle died, everyone says so. I expect we’ll never know what really happened.”

  “But you know exactly what happened. You murdered Myrtle Montague because she stole the love of your life, isn’t that right? She married the man you wanted for yourself. And you never forgave her.”

  Mrs Nelson clutched her chest, eyes opening in surprise. She hissed back at Penny. “No, I didn’t forgive her, and why should I? Daniel and I were happy. I’ve never met anyone like him, before or since. We might not have been together long, but he would have proposed, given time. Then she showed up and turned his head. Bewitched him, so she did. He didn’t stand a chance. It doesn’t mean I killed her, though. I was at the picture house, as I have told you already.”

  “Ah, but you never saw the film, did you? You made a point of going to the cinema and talking to people beforehand so they’d remember you were there. You even bought sweets, but then you left, isn’t that right?”

  “I went to get something from the car, that’s all.” Mrs Nelson looked away. “It’s not a crime.”

  “I see. Tell me about your brooch, in that case.”

  “What brooch?”

  “The one you lost at the duck pond, the night you killed her.”

  Mrs Nelson’s voice cracked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. My cameo is at home.”

  Penny pulled the brooch from her pocket. “I never said it was a cameo, Mrs Nelson. But of course we both know it is.”

  “Give me that!” Mrs Nelson reached out to grab the brooch, but Penny was too quick for her, moving it to her other hand.

  “Let’s not forget your holiday, Mrs Nelson, and why you’ve left the return leg open. It’s because you’ve no intention of coming back, isn’t that right? I suppose it gets easier to take a life after the first time. I know all about your husbands as well, you see.”