A Novel Murder

by K. C. Wells

  Jonathon hit the brakes. “Sorry!” he yelled through the window. “Why are you still working at this hour?”

  Ben scowled at him. “I’m getting my jobs done that I couldn’t do today, ’cos there were hordes of people everywhere. When does this shindig finish?”

  “Tomorrow evening. Then it’s back to normal, I promise.”

  “Good,” Ben grumbled before resuming his trek, slowly pushing the wheelbarrow. Once he was safely out of the way, Jonathon raced down the driveway, turned into the lane, and headed toward the village. He’d never made the journey so quickly.

  When he reentered the pub, Mike was chatting with Paul, and the air was filled with the buzz of talk. Many of the locals greeted Jonathon warmly, which gave his confidence a much-needed boost. He stopped dead in the middle of the crowded pub and addressed Mike.

  “Could you come out from behind the bar for a minute?”

  Mike grinned at him. “What are you up to?”

  Jonathon said nothing, but simply pointed to the floor in front of him.

  Shrugging, Mike lifted the flap and joined him. “Okay. I’ll play along.”

  Jonathon’s breathing sped up, his pulse racing. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that you weren’t a key part of my life. Because you are.”

  Mike stilled. “Where’s this going, Jonathon?”

  Around them, voices fell silent.

  He took another breath. “And I’m also sorry I took so long to come to my senses. I’ve felt this way for months, and I should have acted sooner.”

  “You’re worrying me,” Mike said quietly. Jonathon could feel the gazes fixed on them.

  He gave Mike a warm smile. “Nothing to worry about.” He removed the ring box from his pocket and got down on one knee. “Mike Tattersall… will you marry me?”

  Mike stared at him in stunned silence, and Jonathon’s heart was beating out a military tattoo. Then Paul Drake yelled, “What are you waitin’ for? It’s hardly a surprise, is it? It’s not like we haven’t seen the two of you canoodlin’ this past year. And it’s not like we didn’t all see it coming.”

  His exclamation seemed to be the impetus Mike needed. He took a deep breath. “Yes, Jonathon de Mountford. I will marry you.”

  “Oh thank God.” Then all words ceased when Mike hauled him to his feet, the ring box forgotten for the moment as he took Jonathon in his arms and kissed him.

  Chapter Nine

  THE APPLAUSE came from every direction, and suddenly there were villagers clustered around them, patting them on the back and shouting out their congratulations.

  It still hadn’t sunk in when Jonathon freed himself from Mike’s embrace, took hold of his left hand, and slipped a white gold band onto his ring finger. Mike stared at it.

  “Do you like it?” Jonathon asked with an obvious note of anxiety.

  “I love it. And it fits. How did you manage that?” Mike couldn’t stop looking at the gold band, as if breaking eye contact with it would somehow make it disappear and the whole magical moment would become nothing more than a wonderful dream.

  “I took a chance that your ring finger was the same size as its opposite number. Remember when you had to fix your bike after Christmas and you got oil all over your hands? When you took off your signet ring to clean your hands, I did a quick measure.” Jonathon grinned. “I put it on a piece of paper, then drew around its inside.”

  That stopped him dead. “Christmas? When did you buy this?”

  “After New Year, in London.” Jonathon smiled. “It’s been hidden under my briefs ever since.”

  Mike stared at him in wonder before placing his hands on either side of Jonathon’s sweet face and kissing him tenderly. A chorus of awws rippled around them.

  “Where’s the champagne?” Paul joked.

  Mike broke the kiss. “You know what? You’re right. If ever a situation called for champagne, it’s this one.” He released Jonathon and dashed behind the bar. “Who wants to join us in a glass of champagne?”

  Jonathon burst out laughing. “You expect any of this crowd to say no to that?”

  Mike chuckled as he pulled bottles from the fridge. “Yeah, that was dumb. Help me set up the glasses?”

  Jonathon joined him behind the bar and started placing champagne flutes in rows, while the villagers gathered, the air full of laughter and chatter.

  Mike gave Jonathon an inquiring glance. “So… wanna tell me what brought this on?”

  Jonathon laughed. “That call? Was from my father. You can blame all this on him.”

  Mike gaped at him. “I don’t believe for a second it was his idea. Remind me to thank him next time I see him.” He popped the first cork, and everyone cheered. Mike poured, and Jonathon handed out the glasses, until there were four or five empty bottles in the recycling box below the bar and everyone who wanted a glass had one.

  Mike raised his glass. “To us.”

  Jonathon clinked with him. “To us.” The sound echoed around the pub, and the villagers fell silent as they drank. Then the noise level hiked back up as people resumed their seats, taking their champagne with them.

  “You’ve had the ring since January?” Mike was dumbfounded.

  Jonathon nodded slowly. “I was waiting for the right moment, until I realized this evening that I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

  Mike took a sip of champagne. “So… any idea when you want to do this?”

  “As soon as possible?” Jonathon sighed. “Like I said, I don’t want to wait. What would be perfect would be the church, with Lloyd performing the ceremony, but I know that’s not going to happen. In which case, Plan B is at the manor, in the Italian garden.” His smile reached his eyes. “I was thinking about the two of us standing between those two statues. You know, the ones I always used to think were trying to grab each other. The sound of the fountain, the open air… with any of the villagers who want to join us to celebrate.”

  Mike couldn’t think of a more perfect setting. He wanted to ask about Jonathon’s parents, but that would put a dampener on the mood, so he pushed that aside.

  “Okay, what have I missed?” Graham strolled into the pub, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, a denim jacket slung over his shoulder. Beside him was Professor Harcourt, dressed more formally in a jacket and tie over dark pants.

  “There’s gonna be wedding bells,” Paul announced, pointing toward Mike and Jonathon. “They’re finally getting hitched. About bloody time.”

  Mike poured out the last of the champagne and handed it to the two men. “And what you missed was the lord of the manor getting down on one knee.”

  “Damn. I’d have paid good money to see that.” Graham glanced around the pub. “Did none of you video it?”

  Judging by the loud exclamations that erupted, it seemed no one had been on the ball. Secretly, Mike was glad of that. He didn’t think Thomas finding a video of his son’s proposal online would go down too well. As much as he’d hated the man’s meddling, Mike felt it was better that he heard the news from Jonathon’s lips.

  I think we ought to try to stay on his good side—if he has one. After all, he’s going to be my father-in-law. That thought brought with it a small measure of apprehension. He couldn’t see Jonathon’s parents welcoming him with open arms.

  “Congratulations.” Professor Harcourt raised his glass. “May you both have many happy years together. Speaking as someone who has been happily married for the last twenty-seven years, I can highly recommend it.”

  Graham raised his glass too, but no sooner had he drunk from it than his face fell.

  An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Mike’s belly. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m pleased for you both, honest I am….”

  “There’s a ‘but’ coming,” Jonathon remarked, putting down his glass on the bar.

  Graham sighed. “I hate to be the one to spoil the occasion but… I just heard back from the coroner.” Then he gave Professor Harcourt a quick glance. “Unless you’ve already
shared the details with them?”

  Professor Harcourt shook his head briskly. “It wasn’t my place to do so.”

  Graham gave a satisfied nod. “Okay.” He sat on the nearest empty stool and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “This can’t go any further than you two, all right? I’m only telling you because you’ve already guessed the outcome, more or less.”

  “Then it was murder?” Mike’s pulse quickened. “What did you find?”

  Graham indicated Professor Harcourt, who also leaned in close. “There was evidence of peanut oil in the digestive tract,” the professor said in a low voice. “And the only reason we found it was because we specifically went looking for it, based on our speculations.” He met Mike’s gaze. “Definitely not the peanuts on the bar. And it had to have been in the coffee. Pity we don’t have the cup to analyze its contents.”

  Mike cleared his throat. “Actually? We do.”

  Professor Harcourt blinked. “We do?”

  “I asked them to retrieve it from the rubbish,” Graham said with a smug smile.

  Professor Harcourt beamed. “That’s marvelous, especially as the cup Teresa sent flying was hers. In which case, we need to send the pieces off for analysis.”

  “I’ll see to that first thing Monday,” Graham assured him. “Which leaves us with one conclusion. Someone in the pub Friday night killed Teresa. And it had to be premeditated, because who just happens to have peanut oil on them?”

  “I’m afraid I must concur,” Professor Harcourt added. “If you add to that the missing notebook, EpiPens, and phone, it all points to murder.”

  “And that means I’m not allowed to investigate it,” Graham pointed out gloomily. “Even if I now have one accidental death and two murders under my belt, them upstairs still feel that a humble constable can’t cut the mustard.”

  “What does that mean?” Professor Harcourt inquired.

  “It means the powers that be are sending a detective inspector from London to be in charge of the case.” Graham took another long drink from his glass.

  “As long as it’s not Gorland,” Mike joked. When Graham’s miserable expression didn’t alter, he froze. “Oh my God. It is, isn’t it?”

  Graham raised his glass. “Guess who’s coming to dinner.”

  Beside him, Jonathon groaned. “I hoped we’d seen the last of him.”

  Mike’s heart sank. “When does he get here?”

  “My guess is Monday,” Graham replied. “And you know how he feels about you two ‘meddling,’ as he puts it. So you’d better leave this one to the professionals.” Mike caught sight of Jonathon’s fixed stare and added his own. Graham sighed. “Yeah, it was worth a try, but I didn’t expect any other reaction, to be honest. Please… try to be inconspicuous? And don’t launch into it right away. Have a night off. You just got engaged, for God’s sake. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your evening than sleuthing.” He grinned.

  Professor Harcourt coughed. “That name seems familiar. Gorland…. Gorland….” He took a sharp intake of breath. “DI John Gorland, from the Met?”

  “The very same.” Graham indicated Mike with a nod of his head. “And he and Mike aren’t exactly bosom buddies.”

  Jonathon let out a derisive snort. “Understatement of the year.”

  Professor Harcourt had a twinkle in his eye. “What did Graham mean about you two meddling?”

  Graham burst out laughing. “Like I said, Sherlock and Watson, these two. Mind you, they’ve been very useful. They helped solve a murder at the tail end of last year, and another during the summer.”

  “Helped?” Mike huffed. “Who called you to say who the murderer was? Who put you on the track of—”

  “Yeah, all right, you may have provided some valuable assistance.” Graham rolled his eyes. “Amateurs.”

  “But Mike is hardly that,” Professor Harcourt said with a smile. “A former DI, who would have gone places if not for unfortunate circumstances.” Mike arched his eyebrows, and Professor Harcourt shrugged. “I looked you up when the coroner recognized your name. A promising career.”

  Mike gestured to his prosthetic foot. “Until I lost this. But you know what? It brought me here, to Merrychurch.” He gazed warmly at Jonathon. “To you.”

  The light in Jonathon’s eyes….

  “Oh, get a room,” Paul groaned from his seat at the bar. “I suppose we’ll have nothing but wedding plans from here on in. Hurry up and tie the knot, for God’s sake.”

  Jonathon laughed. “Funny you should say that. I’m not a fan of long engagements. So I was thinking… how does September sound?”

  Mike could live with that.

  WHEN THE door was finally locked and bolted for the night, Jonathon heaved a sigh of relief. “I swear tonight dragged more than usual.” He’d looked at the clock so many times, willing the evening to be over so they could talk.

  Except he planned to do a lot more than talk.

  “Well, it’s not every night you get engaged.” Mike shook his head. “I certainly didn’t see this in my future. Not in this village, at any rate.”

  “And then I turned up, pulling my suitcase, looking lost and forlorn.”

  Mike snickered. “Hardly.” He took a last glance around the pub, then went to the light switch. “Go on up. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Jonathon went through the door that led to the narrow staircase. When he reached the upper floor, he paused, staring at the guest room.

  So it was murder.

  What troubled him most was that if ever anyone deserved to be bumped off, it was Teresa Malvain.

  “What are you thinking?” Mike said softly from behind him.

  Jonathon sighed. “That if this was one of your murder mysteries, readers would be hoping that Teresa was going to be the victim long before she drank that coffee.”

  “Well, we’ve already got a few suspects.”

  Jonathon chuckled. “I think we’ve only got started. I’m sure more will appear once we start looking into the case.” He paused. “We are going to look into it, aren’t we? Even if Gorland is in charge?”

  “I think we just do our usual thing and talk to people. It’s worked well for us so far.”

  Jonathon turned to face him. “But this feels different from the last case, and I’m not sure why. No one set out to murder Mrs. Teedle, did they? They simply took advantage of finding her incapacitated. This was premeditated. Someone came to the pub with peanut oil and deliberately put it in her coffee.”

  “We think that’s what happened,” Mike corrected. “We’ll know for sure when the pieces are analyzed.”

  Something else had niggled him, a thought that had flashed through his mind, only to leave as quickly as it had arrived. The notion that they’d missed something vital….

  Mike reached out and stroked Jonathon’s cheek. “No more talk of murder for tonight. Not when we have much more delightful things to discuss.” Mike lowered his hand and pointed to his room. “Bed. Now.”

  Jonathon laughed. “Bossy.” He walked over to Mike’s bedroom and entered, with Mike following behind. Once inside, he closed the door, then gently backed Jonathon up to it, kissing him on the lips. Jonathon responded, his arms around Mike’s neck.

  When they parted, Mike looked into his eyes. “You’re sure about this? Us getting married, I mean.”

  Jonathon smiled. “I wouldn’t have bought the ring if I hadn’t been sure. The call with my father crystallized my thinking, and I knew finding the so-called perfect moment wasn’t worth prolonging the wait any more.”

  Mike took his hand and led him over to the bed. “Can I ask you something? What did your dad say that got you so riled?” Jonathon ran through the conversation, not missing out anything. Mike listened intently, and when Jonathon was done, he squeezed Jonathon’s hand. “So he doesn’t know about the engagement?”

  “No. You had to be the first one to hear about that.”

  “Well, of course,” Mike said with a smile. “So when wi
ll you tell him?”

  Jonathon stood at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m not going to waste any time. He has to know from me before he gets wind of it from another source. And there’s something else you and I need to discuss, but that can wait. Right now we need to celebrate.”

  Mike grinned, easing Jonathon’s shirt off his shoulders, his fingers skating over Jonathon’s bare flesh. “What did you have in mind?”

  Jonathon got busy freeing Mike from his shirt. “You might want to text Abi and tell her to open the pub tomorrow.”

  Mike opened his eyes wide. “And why’s that?”

  “Because there’s no way you’re going to be alert enough, seeing as you’re not going to be sleeping tonight.”

  Mike laughed quietly. “Hey, I’m almost forty-three. What makes you think I can go all night long?”

  Jonathon grinned. “What makes you think you’ll be doing all the driving?”

  Chapter Ten

  JONATHON DIVIDED his time between eating his eggs and bacon, and consulting his short list of suspects. Well, so far it’s short.

  Mike got up from the table to pour more coffee as Abi bustled into the kitchen.

  “This is the last day of the festival, isn’t it?” she asked as she deposited her shopping bags on the table.

  “Yup.” Mike placed the mugs on the table. “And thanks again for running the pub during the day. We’ve really appreciated it.”

  Abi beamed. “Hey, no problem. You know me, always happy to do a few shifts. The money comes in handy, especially as my holiday is coming up next month.” Her eyes widened. “So is it true, what I’ve been hearing in the village? Jonathon proposed last night?”

  “In front of all the regulars, down on one knee,” Mike confirmed, smiling broadly. “And I said yes, as if you didn’t already know that.”

  “Fantastic!” Abi sighed. “A gay wedding. I’ve never been to one of those.”

  “I think you’ll find they’re just like het weddings,” Jonathon remarked. “Except for the fact that we’ll be naked, and instead of a wedding reception, we’ll be hosting a gay orgy.”