“Yes, and she’d been working on her plan for a while. She’d approached Dave Prentiss, that journalist, but he kept telling her no. He knew it wasn’t on the up and up and told her he wasn’t interested. She’d misjudged him.”
“So, who was going to purchase the book if not your buyer and not Dave? Your professor?”
“Hell no. I’d never involved Professor Bartholomew; no way he’d have anything to do with something underhanded like this. All that talk was for yours and Wendy’s benefit.”
“Then who was going to buy the book?”
“Can you believe Alice had advertised in a literary magazine and hooked a moneybags collector? Alice? Alice figured out how to do that?
“She was sooo agreeable! She said she’d take the money I’d brought and wait for the rest, but she wasn’t giving me the goods unless I agreed to pay her what Mr. Moneybags was going to give her. Who did she think she was?”
“And the accident?” I could tell he’d kept this all pent up and was eager to unload.
“I just knew the book was in that big blue purse she carried, and I grabbed her arm and yanked the purse. I got the bag, but she went down and hit her head, and I ran.”
“And you searched her flat?”
It suddenly dawned on me that he somehow knew I was lying about the police. Why else would he spend so much time talking to me? “A lot of good that did me. Her phone was in her blue bag, and I found her computer, so I was able to find the name of the collector and contact him, but I didn’t have the book. I figured it had to still be at Belle’s cottage, and I knew you and Wendy were in Oxford, so I broke in. Everyone knows Belle is deaf as a doorpost. She’d never have heard me.”
“Except you didn’t know Peter would be there, that the twins never leave their mum on her own at night, right?”
“And I just knew he’d seen me, so I was desperate and took care of him, except I didn’t, did I?”
“No, you didn’t. What are you going to do when his memory comes back? Go after him again?”
“Not your problem! Just get me the books—both books and the letters you showed me,” he screamed.
“OK, I’m going to slowly walk into the sitting room to get them, and I’ll put them in a bag and bring them back to you, okay?” I said as I began to back out of the office. I could see Dickens had recovered and was studying Thom, but I wasn’t sure what he had in mind. As I backed out, I glimpsed Christie on the stairs.
And then everything happened at once. Dickens lunged at Thom and brought him down, and Christie flew past me to leap on him and rake his face with her claws. I ran to the front door, flipped the deadbolt, and jerked the door open.
I had to ring the school bell but couldn’t quite reach the rope. I scrambled up on the bench, but my feet got tangled in my long gown. Down I went on the front path. Thom had regained his feet and was lurching my way, but Dickens had different plans.
“I’m coming,” he barked as he sank his teeth into Thom’s calf, and Thom tried desperately to shake him off. Dickens released his victim, jumped on the stone bench, and leapt up to grab the bell pull in his mouth. He swung back and forth ringing the bell before losing his grip. My protector didn’t miss a beat. He shook himself and went after Thom again. By now, lights were coming on in the neighboring cottages.
When my neighbors Deborah and John arrived, Thom was bleeding and begging for mercy. Dickens was sitting on his chest snapping and snarling, Christie was screeching in the doorway, and I was walloping his legs and ribs with the cricket bat. He must have thought the hounds of hell were after him—or at the very least a vicious white dog, a petite black attack cat, and one furious woman.
When Constable James pulled up with siren going and lights flashing, I was sitting in the kitchen with Christie in my lap. Deborah had gone to check on Timmy, and John and Dickens were standing guard over Thom where he was lying tied up in the front yard. Who knew my dentist was so handy with a rope?
Mr. Morgan, my neighbor from across the street, had dialed 999 and arrived right behind Deborah and John. When he saw John had things under control, he went back and got his wife, who was now bustling around my kitchen brewing a pot of tea and putting biscuits on a plate.
Deborah returned with Timmy and a bottle of brandy. “Good for a shock,” she said as she poured a generous portion into a teacup. “In fact, I think I need a bit too. Goodness, Leta, what a scare.”
I seemed to be having trouble forming words, so Deborah carried on. “Timmy’s sneezing turned into a stuffy nose, so I was up checking on him when I saw a light coming from your cottage. I thought at first you were getting in late, but then I saw the light was moving through the house. John was watching telly, and before I could get downstairs to tell him, the school bell started ringing to beat all get-out.”
I nodded and took a slug of brandy with tea. “Whoa,” I spluttered, “that’s strong stuff. What do you think, Timmy, is Dickens a little hero dog?”
Timmy’s eyes were big as saucers as he looked from me to his mum. Then he smiled. “Yes, a hero dog, that’s what he is.”
“Pffft,” said Christie, “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”
“And, Timmy, Christie helped too. She and Dickens are a team,” I quickly amended.
Constable James came to the door to ask me if I could hold on a bit longer while he took statements from the neighbors and got my intruder into the patrol car. I pointed to the brandy bottle and told him I’d be fine. A moment later, I heard more voices outside, and Gemma appeared.
“I stayed home like you told me,” I said. “No snooping.”
“Thank goodness you’re okay,” she said as she smiled. “Looks like your theory of the case was right.”
“Yes, only it wasn’t Colonel Mustard in the pantry with the candlestick. I got that part wrong.”
Gemma chuckled. “Ah yes, but Thom is babbling nonstop and telling all. I think he’s afraid we’ll sic Dickens on him if he stops talking. May have to hire your dog to assist in interrogations.
“By the way, would it make you feel any better to hear that your erstwhile dinner date is completely in the clear?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “It’s not like we were an item, but I doubt he’ll be eager to see me after I all but accused him of murder.”
“You might be surprised.” She grinned as she backed out of the kitchen. In trooped Libby and Gavin.
I nodded and murmured as they alternated hugs with questions and the kitchen began to clear. Deborah said she and Timmy would check on me the next day, and Mrs. Morgan poured me another cup of tea and said goodbye. Libby added brandy to the cup, and she and Gavin slipped out too.
Dickens put his paws on my lap and licked my face. “We got him, Leta. We’re okay now.”
That’s when Dave walked in. Uh-oh, this is going to be awkward, I thought as I blushed scarlet. I started to stand and before I knew it, he pulled me out of the chair and hugged me tight. “Thank goodness you’re okay,” he said.
I started to cry then. It was finally all too much.
“Shush, it’ll be alright,” he murmured. “I’ll let you explain later how you came to the conclusion I was the devil incarnate. Seriously, we’ll talk, but not now. Gemma tells me she’s first in line.”
I had a long evening ahead of me.
By the time I’d finished telling Gemma the details of what had happened at my cottage, it was after midnight. I was keyed up, but I was also exhausted. I didn’t want to be by myself, but I didn’t want to leave the comfort of my home.
Constable James had found a piece of cardboard to tape over the window in my mudroom, the one Thom had broken to gain entry. I was seriously peeved he’d broken the original 1840s glass. The cardboard wouldn’t keep anyone out, but I doubted I’d have any additional uninvited visitors any time soon. Dickens must have read my thoughts, because he assured me he’d keep me safe. Christie had long ago retreated to the bedroom.
I was sound asleep the next morning when I heard someo
ne pounding on my door and Dickens barking to beat the band. It was Wendy come to find out what had happened.
“Coming, coming,” I yelled as I hobbled down the stairs.
Dickens dashed out, and Wendy almost knocked me down rushing in to hug me. “Look at you, you look like death warmed over. Oops, poor choice of words, I guess.”
I gave a half-hearted smile and started the coffee. I did my best to give her a blow-by-blow description of the previous day. She couldn’t believe I’d suspected Dave of being the killer, but then, she hadn’t been there. She hadn’t seen the notes from Alice.
“And you mean Thom—sweet, helpful Thom—did all this? Did he try to hurt you?”
“He didn’t have a weapon, if that’s what you mean. He wasn’t expecting me to be here because I’d told him I’d be out to dinner. I’m not sure how he’d have done away with me if it had come to that. And it would have. He couldn’t very well have left me alive to tell Gemma he’d broken into my cottage.”
Wendy looked at Dickens and Christie. “And you two? How lucky is she that you were here? And so smart to boot? I mean, grabbing the bell pull to ring the bell? I hear Thom has a pretty painful dog bite on his leg and deep cat scratches on his face.”
“Yup, those scratches were well done, if I do say so myself,” meowed Christie. “And Dickens, you got him good.”
“Yes, these two saved me. I’m not sure how much good that cricket bat would’ve done me in the end, but I must admit I enjoyed slugging him with it when he was down. Too bad I didn’t break any bones.”
“Absolutely unbelievable,” said Wendy. “Every bit of this, from the very beginning. Things like this don’t happen in Astonbury. I hope you’re not sorry you moved here.”
“That thought never crossed my mind, though now you’ve mentioned it, I’m betting my sister is going to read me the riot act. I haven’t told her yet. She was cross enough when I emailed her I’d found a body and we’d gone to Alice’s flat. Whoa boy. I’m not looking forward to telling her the rest.”
I asked about Peter and Belle, and Wendy told me Peter was doing amazingly well. He’d had no trouble getting up the stairs to his flat and was able to shower on his own this morning. She’d fixed him a hot breakfast and left him complaining about home help coming in. Of course, he didn’t think he needed any help.
“Listen,” I said, “I’m on the list today for his lunch and dinner, and I’ve got it ready to go, but I need some time to get my act together this morning. Can I get you to take the chicken salad to him and I’ll deliver dinner later?”
When she heard what I’d fixed for dinner, she laughingly threatened to join us. I told her I had another pan of baked ziti in the freezer and offered to drop it by for her and Belle to have later in the week.
After another huge hug, I shooed her out and took a cup of coffee to the couch. I needed some time to myself to process yesterday’s events. Time to myself with Dickens and Christie, that is. My two protectors were unusually quiet this morning, almost as though they knew I needed some quiet time to recover.
I didn’t exactly swing into action, but I managed to drag myself upstairs to get a shower. And drag, or maybe limp, was the operative word. I must have fallen harder than I realized when I tripped over my nightgown, because my knee was bruised and swollen. But it could have been so much worse if not for Dickens and Christie. I was one lucky girl.
I let calls from Toby, Rhiannon, and Beatrix go to voicemail. I wasn’t yet up to telling the story over and over. I’d just hung up the phone after scheduling an appointment with a glass repair shop when Dave called. I didn’t ignore his call.
“Hi there,” I answered.
“Hey, Nancy Drew, how ya feelin’ this morning?”
“Nope, can’t be Nancy Drew. She’s a strawberry blonde. Maybe Tuppence?” I replied.
“Ha. Already feisty. You must be feeling alright. Are you up for a visitor, or maybe lunch out?” he asked.
“Lunch would be nice as long as it’s not in Astonbury. I’m afraid by now word has spread through the village grapevine and we wouldn’t get a moment’s peace.”
“How about the pub in Broadway? That way we can take the hero dog with us. Okay?”
I laughed. “That would be super. I can be ready in an hour.” That should give me enough time to hobble upstairs and apply makeup, though I was pretty sure no amount of concealer would cover the black circles under my eyes.
“Christie,” I said as I brushed my hair, “will you be nice to Dave this time? He really is a good guy, even if he’s not Peter or Henry.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for a little while, but I still think we need to see Peter again,” meowed my opinionated cat.
Dickens already considered Dave a friend after their evening sharing pita chips. When I told him it was Dave’s idea to take him to the pub with us, he gave Christie an I told you so look.
Dave arrived and lifted me off my feet in a hug. “Wow, you’re a sight for sore eyes. The damsel in distress and her four-legged heroes.”
Christie twined herself around his legs at that comment and Dickens barked in agreement. “I understand you each deserve a medal of commendation. I can see the headline now—Dickens and Christie save the day.”
I laughed for the first time in several days and looked up at Dave. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am—”
“Not now, let’s save it for lunch and a pint.”
And that’s what we did. We loaded Dickens into the car and drove to Broadway. He got the first of several dog biscuits and lay beneath the table as Dave fetched two pints.
I couldn’t stop blushing in embarrassment as Dave told me how Gemma had approached him with questions. When she established he really had been in Dartmouth when the second and third crimes occurred, she broached the subject of the notes in his room.
“Okay, I admit I was shocked, but my note about book prices was easily explained. The notes from Alice? Not so much. I was checking on Winnie-the-Pooh books after our conversation with Belle, and I stumbled across the Poe sale then. I was amazed at the prices.”
I had nothing to say to that. I sipped my pint and nodded for him to continue.
“But Alice? When she found out early during my stay that I was a journalist who wrote about books, she must have decided I was her guy. She intimated she had access to a first edition J. M. Barrie book, and sure, I’d have loved to see it, but buy it? No way. Even without seeing it, I knew it would be pricey. Remember I told you I had some first editions, but nothing as valuable as what Alice was talking about.
“She didn’t badger me. She just left me the two notes. I told her one morning after breakfast that I wasn’t interested, and that was the end of it. I had a funny feeling about her. Can’t say why. I just did.”
“Is this where I get to say again how sorry I am?” I asked. “I have no excuse. I mean, how could I? I jumped to a terrible conclusion when I saw those Alice notes, and I was devastated.”
“Devastated?”
“Oh hell, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? I really enjoyed our dinner out. I told Wendy you were a marvelous conversationalist. I mean, you’re witty, well-read, and charming, and I was thrilled when you asked me out again. Until I wasn’t. Until I thought you were a . . . criminal.”
To his credit, Dave was still smiling at me. “If I was so charming, how could you think I was a stone-cold killer?”
“Aren’t all psychopaths charming?” I asked. “It’s like Gemma says, I read and watch too many mysteries.”
He actually chuckled. “I may have to agree with her on that point. Way too much time on your hands. But, and this is an important but, you were right about all my wonderful personality traits . . . not that I’m a psychopath—”
“Well, of course, you’re not. I know that now. A little late, though. I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. You seem to think it’s humorous.”
“Here’s what I choose to think, L
eta. We really hit it off, and we have lots in common. I may be charming and witty and whatever else you said, but you are too, not to mention beautiful. You got all caught up in an awful situation. You found a body, for goodness’ sake, of someone you knew. Your friend Peter could have died. And, yes, against your better judgment—you jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
Now I had tears in my eyes. “Somehow it doesn’t sound quite so bad when you put it that way.”
“Of course, it doesn’t. What I’m trying to say is I won’t let this get in the way of our relationship if you won’t. Deal?”
Relationship? I’m in a relationship with someone who isn’t furious I accused him of being a killer? What is he? The world’s most understanding guy? “I don’t know what to say.”
“How ’bout deal?”
And so I said it. “Deal.”
Dickens poked his nose out from under the table and barked, “Thank goodness. I like him, and I thought you were gonna blow it.”
By the time Dave and Dickens escorted me into my cottage, I was pleasantly inebriated and feeling no pain— well, except a little in my knee. Dave settled me on the couch, elevated my leg on a pillow, and made an ice pack for my knee. He gave me a for-real kiss, not a peck on the cheek, and promised to call later.
Chapter Fifteen
I’d been answering questions from my Astonbury friends as best I could, but that meant they each had different bits of the story. Even Wendy didn’t have all the details. And people were still unnerved by the crime spree in our little village, even though we knew the culprit was locked away.
Then I hit upon the idea of a party, but not just any party—a Poirot-like gathering where I could reveal the ins and outs of the crimes to my friends. It was time I cooked up a Greek feast for my new friends, and a dinner party with a captive audience would allow me to answer questions, hopefully for the last time.
I dropped by Sunshine Cottage to tell Wendy and Belle my idea. I wanted my guests to come as their favorite sleuths. Barring that, they had to at least come in fancy dress. Belle and Wendy loved the idea and wanted to help with the planning.
Bells, Tails, & Murder Page 19
