by Morgana Best
Aunt Agnes tapped the screen. “Look, they’re questioning Demelza now.”
Demelza walked into the room, wringing her hands. The detectives wasted no time coming to the point.
“Where were you when your mother was murdered?” Detective Oakes asked, once Demelza had taken her seat on the chaise.
“I was in the bedroom,” she said. “It had been a long, tiring day. I was hoping to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Tell us the events of the evening,” Oakes said.
“I was drifting off to sleep when I heard Frances scream. I got out of bed and ran to his cottage, but he wasn’t there, so then I realised he would be in Mother’s cottage.”
“And why is that?” Mason asked her.
“Because the two of them were in a relationship,” Demelza said.
Oakes nodded to her. “Go on.”
“That’s about it, really. That man, Lucas, ran in and checked Mother’s pulse and told us she was dead. After he left, Eli, my ex-husband, came in. He said he’d go get his phone and call the police. That’s all. I was comforting Frances.”
“Did you see anybody else around, somebody you didn’t know?” Detective Oakes asked.
Demelza shook her head. “No.”
“Did you see anybody else at all, your daughter, your ex-husband, or Mr Fletcher?”
Again, she shook her head. “No.”
Detective Oakes scratched his chin. “And were you aware that your daughter was in a relationship with Finn Fletcher?”
Demelza nodded.
“And how do you feel about that?”
She shrugged. “Eli and I aren’t too happy about it, because we’re concerned that he might be after her money.”
“Your daughter is wealthy?”
Demelza chuckled. “No, not at all, but she is supposed to inherit all Mother’s fortune. Also, Mother did spoil her horribly for years.”
“And if you don’t mind me asking, why wouldn’t you inherit?” Detective Mason asked her.
Demelza sighed. “My mother was very glamorous. She always resented me for being plain and not interested in fashion or even make-up. She was quite resentful when I married Eli, as she said he was in a boring profession.”
“And what profession is that?” Oakes asked.
“He’s an assistant lecturer in etymology, with a research interest in ants,” Demelza said. “In fact, he’s very fond of ants.”
Detective Oakes rubbed his ears. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly. What did you say he had a research interest in?”
Demelza made a scurrying motion with her fingers. “Ants. You know, insects. Eli is very passionate about ants.”
“I see,” Oakes said, although it was quite apparent that he didn’t.
Demelza nodded. “That’s why Mother liked to dress in that peacock coat, to annoy him.”
Oakes took a long breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see the connection. Would you kindly spell it out for me?” His tone was wearied.
“Peacocks eat ants,” Demelza explained. “That’s why she always wore that peacock coat, to annoy Eli.”
“But why didn’t she dress as an anteater?” Detective Mason asked.
“Mother was terribly glamorous,” Demelza said. “She could hardly dress as an anteater. Have you ever seen a glamorous anteater?”
Oakes sighed again. “I must say, I haven’t. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an anteater. Do they live in Australia?”
Mason piped up. “Echidnas do, of course,” he said. “Live in Australia, I mean. I don’t know if they eat ants, but I can’t see any reason why they wouldn’t. They look like anteaters.”
“Echidnas aren’t glamorous either,” Demelza said, “and they are covered in those spiky looking things.”
Detective Oakes held up one hand, palm outwards. “All right, I think we have discussed fashion and ants at sufficient length for now. Your mother and your ex-husband didn’t get along?”
Demelza shook her head vigorously. “Oh no, they hated each other. That’s the reason my marriage broke up. Mother was furious that Eli wasn’t wealthy.”
“But lecturers make good money, don’t they?” Oakes asked.
“He’s an assistant lecturer,” she said. “Most people have been promoted to senior lecturer by his age. Besides, Mother was very wealthy, and Eli’s wage was nowhere near good enough for her. Mother said she would never put me back in her will if I married him. And she was as good as her word. I hadn’t heard from her for years until Moxie Maisie was a teenager, and then she turned nasty again when I married Eli.” She stopped speaking and sighed long and hard.
“And what prompted the reconciliation?” Detective Mason asked her.
Demelza shrugged. “It was when Moxie Maisie was thirteen. She was in a national singing competition. Mother saw her on TV and contacted me.”
“Did Moxie Maisie win the competition?” Mason asked her.
Demelza shook her head. “No, but apparently she looked sufficiently glamorous for Mother to take an interest in her. That’s when Mother came back into our lives.”
“That will be all for now, but we will need to speak with you again in the near future,” Detective Mason said. “The forensics team will be here any minute and will attend to your mother. We will inform you when the body will be released.”
Demelza burst into tears.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Detective Oakes said.
Demelza stopped crying and stood up. “Can I go now?”
“Yes, and would you send Eli Miles in? I’ll ask you and your family not to leave town until we tell you that you can.”
Demelza nodded and headed out the door.
I turned to Aunt Agnes. “I thought they only said not to leave town in movies.”
Agnes shrugged. “Eli has a motive too.”
“What, just because he didn’t get on with Priscilla?” I asked. “Is that enough motive for murder?”
“We will have to find out more,” Aunt Agnes said, “but for now, they are all suspects.”
“Surely, Colonel Mustard did it,” I said. “He was standing over the body holding a candlestick.”
Aunt Agnes shrugged. “But would anybody be so silly? He screamed, which brought everyone running to the cottage, and Lucas found him holding the candlestick. What murderer in their right mind would do that?”
“Maybe he isn’t in his right mind,” I offered. “Or maybe he screamed and held the candlestick to fool everybody, as everybody would think the murderer wouldn’t do that.”
Aunt Agnes rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. I hope there isn’t more to it.”
“Like The Other?”
“I don’t think they’re involved, but we can’t discount anything.”
“Lucas is worried that the new boarders might be shifters or vampires,” I told her.
Aunt Agnes laughed. “Because the women aren’t throwing themselves at him?”
I chuckled too. “Yes, and most women do.”
Aunt Agnes laid a hand on my arm. “Here comes Eli.”
Eli sat on the chaise and folded his arms. Detective Oakes opened his mouth to speak, but Eli beat him to it.
“I know who the murderer is!” he said.
Chapter 6
“It’s Finn Fletcher!” Eli took off his glasses and polished them with a tissue before popping them back on the end of his nose.
I took the opportunity to study him. He was short and slender, and dressed sensibly. His hair was shaven at the sides, but the front was long and hung in a swoop over his eyes. He kept pushing it out of the way. His glasses were round, tortoiseshell, and possibly inspired by Harry Potter. There was an eager yet subdued manner about the man.
“Do you have any evidence to suggest that Mr Fletcher is the murderer?” Detective Oakes asked.
“No, but I’ve given the matter a lot of thought. He’s been dating my stepdaughter for some time, and he intends to marry her. My stepd
aughter will inherit Priscilla’s fortune, as far as I know. Finn murdered Priscilla so my stepdaughter would inherit, and he will benefit from that inheritance.”
“But your stepdaughter, if indeed she does inherit her grandmother’s estate, will have more to gain than everybody else,” Detective Oakes pointed out.
Eli appeared most taken aback. “But, but she didn’t do it,” he sputtered. “It was her boyfriend, I tell you. A most unsavoury fellow. He and my stepdaughter have nothing in common.”
“Even if that is so, it doesn’t mean he is a murderer,” Detective Mason said in even tones. “Is there anything else that makes you think he is the murderer?”
Eli appeared thoroughly downcast. “No,” he said in a small voice.
“And where were you at the time of the murder?” Detective Oakes asked.
“I was half asleep when I heard a scream. At first, I thought I had dreamt it, but there was another scream. I hurried to Priscilla’s cottage and found Demelza and Frances there.” He stopped speaking and looked at the detectives.
“Go on,” Oakes said.
“Demelza told me Priscilla had been murdered, so I hurried back to my cottage to get my phone to call you guys. I mean, to call the police.”
“Did you see anybody else at all?” Mason asked him.
“No. I didn’t see a soul.”
The detectives exchanged glances.
“Did you know anybody who would have a reason to kill Mrs Lockhart?”
Eli nodded. “Everybody who met her! She was a nasty old bat, if you’ll excuse my saying so. I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but she was mean. Thoroughly mean. She went out of her way to make people’s lives a misery. She destroyed my marriage. She stepped on ants.”
“Can you give us any names?” Detective Mason asked. “Names of specific people who have a grudge against Mrs Lockhart.”
“Finn Fletcher, as I told you. Not only is he after the money my daughter will inherit, but he hated Priscilla. She constantly told Moxie Maisie that she could only marry a very wealthy man. Clearly, Finn would have resented Priscilla for that. Demelza and I had to keep their relationship secret from Priscilla. All this sneaking around! Maybe if you run a police check on him, you might find he has a criminal record.”
“Are you aware of any criminal record?” Oakes asked him.
Eli shook his head. “No, because if he had one, I’m sure he wouldn’t tell me.”
Detective Oakes pressed on. “And how would you describe your relationship with Finn Fletcher?”
“I don’t like him, of course. I’ve already told you that. He’s after my stepdaughter’s money. I mean, when she inherits it from Priscilla, that is.”
“And what do you know about the terms of the will?”
Eli shook his head. “I don’t know anything about the terms of the will, only that Priscilla always said that Moxie Maisie would inherit.”
“Did Frances Wiggenbottom-Higgenhouse the Ninth and Priscilla ever argue?”
Eli looked up at Oakes, seemingly surprised by the sudden change of subject. “I don’t think so. They seemed to get on just fine. Although she was rather horrible to him.”
“What do you mean?” Oakes asked him.
“Priscilla was a terrible bully and a control freak. She was always ordering Frances about, telling him what he could and couldn’t wear and embarrassing him in public. He never seemed to object, though,” he concluded with a shrug.
Oakes stood up. “Thank you. That will be all for now, but please make yourself available for questioning at a later date.”
Aunt Agnes nodded to me and slid the door open. I followed her into the kitchen. She boiled the electric jug while I turned on the coffee machine.
When we heard the detectives’ footsteps heading to the dining room, we followed them in.
Detective Mason was addressing the boarders. “I’ll ask you all to remain in town until we conclude our investigation. If you happen to leave Mugwort Manor and stay in a local hotel, you will need to contact us at once and give us the address.”
Detective Oakes took over. “And you will have to remain in town for the moment. We will tell you when the body will be released so you can make arrangements.”
“And how long will that be?” Demelza asked. She appeared most put out.
“Since the cause of death appears straightforward, I shouldn’t imagine it would be too long,” Oakes said. “At any rate, we will let you know as soon as we hear. If something else occurs to anybody, please contact us at once.”
He pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket. “I need the name and address of Mrs Lockhart’s lawyer.”
“He’s in Sydney. It’s Asher Asquith from the Asquith, Answorth, and Angus law firm. I don’t know the address, but I can find out for you,” Demelza said. “All I know is that it’s somewhere in Mosman.”
Oakes shut his notepad. “We’ll be able to find it. Thank you all for your co-operation. We’ll speak with you all again in due course. Meanwhile, I’ll ask all of you to come to the police station tomorrow for fingerprinting, to exclude your prints from the crime scene, you understand.”
Demelza looked at us. “Do you mean just us, or the Mugwort Manor people as well?”
“We already have their prints on record.” Oakes shot us a dark look. With that, the two detectives walked out with Aunt Agnes.
“I suppose we should get some sleep,” Demelza said. “It’s quite late at night now.”
“How could you think about sleep when Grandmama has been murdered!” Moxie Maisie glared at her mother.
Demelza simply rolled her eyes.
Eli clutched at his throat. “Is it safe for us to walk back to the cottages, given that there is a murderer on the loose?”
“I’ll go back with you,” Lucas said. “Lock your doors, and don’t open them to anybody.”
The guests followed Lucas out of the dining room. Once they were safely out of earshot, Aunt Maude said, “I offered them all wine, but they all declined it. That makes me think they’re not vampires, because after that shock, any vampire would want a strong glass of Witches’ Brew.”
“I could do with one now,” I said.
Aunt Dorothy tut-tutted. “Isn’t it a bit late at night for that?”
“It’s either that or coffee. I’ve already turned on the coffee machine. What’s more, I’m hungry.”
Aunt Dorothy chuckled. “The youth of today! I was constantly hungry until I reached the age of a hundred and fifteen.”
I always wondered exactly how old the aunts were. I suspected hundreds of years, but they told me that ladies never discuss their age. I simply shrugged. Still, I was happy when Aunt Maude poured some Witches’ Brew into my goblet.
Aunt Agnes returned at the same time as Lucas. “I don’t think any of them are vampires,” he said. “They didn’t want to drink any wine.”
I nodded. “Aunt Maude already told me that. Still, they could be shifters. Does anybody have any suspects?”
“We can discuss that later,” Aunt Maude said with a pointed look at Aunt Agnes. “For now, we need to discuss the fact that Agnes has been having clandestine dealings with that dreadful real estate agent.” To Lucas, she said, “Agnes wants to sell the manor.”
Lucas gasped. “Surely not, Agnes!”
Aunt Agnes held up both hands, palms outwards, in front of her. “That’s an example of your typical exaggerations, Maude. He simply tried to pressure me into selling the manor, and I simply said I would think it over.”
“It’s obvious that you were thinking it over, or you would have told him to go jump in the lake,” Aunt Dorothy said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Dorothy! There are no lakes in these parts. We’re next to a beach, if you hadn’t noticed,” Aunt Agnes snapped.
“It’s a figure of speech, as you very well know, Agnes,” Dorothy countered. “You’re trying to draw attention from the fact that you want to sell the manor. Our manor. You have no right to sell the family
home, Agnes. You’d need our agreement, and we won’t give it, will we, Maude?”
“No, we won’t!” Aunt Maude said.
“Why would you consider selling the manor, Agnes?” Lucas asked in reasoned tones.
“I’m not really considering it, but he did mention a rather large sum of money. Apparently, the council has rezoned the area, and developers want to build a whole bunch of townhouses there. The land is very valuable now.”
“But we have enough money for our needs,” Aunt Maude protested.
Aunt Agnes threw her hands up in the air. “All the murders! What will we do now? Business has dropped off.”
“But we have lots of bookings now,” Aunt Dorothy asked.
“When word of this murder gets out, they will all cancel. I should have thought that would be obvious.” Agnes fixed Dorothy with a pointed glare.
“But you don’t know that,” Aunt Dorothy said. “Besides, we don’t need the Bed and Breakfast money to keep going. It’s just for fun.”
That was news to me. “What?” I shrieked. “Fun? We don’t need the Bed and Breakfast money to keep going? Why didn’t you tell me that? I’ve been horribly stressed over money for ages.” I rubbed both temples and then drained half of my goblet in one go.
I looked at Lucas. “Did you know that?”
He shook his head. “No, I had no idea.”
“We take a keen interest in the stock market, and in more recent times, in the cryptocurrency market,” Aunt Agnes said. “We have a lot of investments.”
“But we would you live?” I asked her.
“Why are you talking to her as if it’s a possibility, Valkyrie?” Aunt Maude said. “Dorothy and I refuse to sell the manor, and that’s the end of it.”
“I could live in the South of France,” Aunt Agnes said, a dreamy look in her eyes.
“But you could do that anyway without selling the manor,” Aunt Maude pointed out.
“I wasn’t being serious!” Aunt Agnes’s tone had turned hostile again.
“Yes, you were!” Maude said.
“Was not!”
Despite their age, the aunts were acting like children. I stood up. “I’m going to my cottage. This has been a terrible day.”
