by Trisha Kelly
Bromington
Heights
A Wodehouse Cozy Mystery
Trisha J. Kelly
Copyright © 2020 Trisha J. Kelly
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9798632583312
Book two in the running series
Book one: Bromington-on-sea
Contents
Bromington
Contents
The midnight hour
An eventful first weekend
Bromington Heights
The all-seeing master
Needle in a haystack
Undercover boss
An icy blast from the past
Playing detective
The Sunday papers
On the trail
Gathering evidence
Two days away
Thursday evening
Friday morning
A strange turn of events
An evening of surprises
Saturday morning – the calm before the storm
Cakes, gossip and concerns
Time to come clean
Saturday evening, the 10th of August
Bromington Heights overnight
Three days later
About the Author
The midnight hour
James Sallow pulled up on the bumpy, cobbled street at the front of Bromington Harbour. He’d hoped to arrive earlier that evening, but the Friday traffic was horrendous. Still, the warm July evening was not unpleasant. The ruby red sun had been gradually setting as he’d driven along the coast, finally disappearing and giving way to the bright, full moon in its place. He watched the moonbeams reflecting a circle of light on the gentle ebony sea and calm waves.
He stepped out of his black Ferrari 488 Spider, which wasn’t just a car, it was a guilty pleasure, a model of self- indulgence. James walked onto the cobbles and took a slow look around. The harbour was dark and quiet. Aside from one or two lights on in rooms above the pubs, it was deserted. Maybe an hour ago the place had been buzzing with regulars, tourists. The jangling halyards blowing in the gentle sea breeze gave a bit of life to the moored boats.
The night air was just beginning to nip, bringing with it a moist fog. It was just as he expected it to be, no more and no less. Vibrant, affluent and charming, in fact. Apart from the smell of death blowing in on the sea breeze. Maybe he would sit just for a few minutes to make his mind up, after all, he had travelled a long way. Running his fingers along the bench he found it to be dry. He leant backwards, not noticing the plaque until he felt the cold metal through his thin shirt. Then he turned. He flicked his lighter to read the inscription:
In Loving Memory of
DOROTHEA WODEHOUSE
Not gone, not forgotten
“No, I don’t think you are, not for one minute my dear.”
James took a packet of cigarettes from his top pocket. He lit one up and inhaled deeply. Drawing the smoke deep into his lungs he then blew it out. Taking a couple more drags he stood up, threw it onto the concrete and stamped it out underneath his expensive leather brogue. “Filthy habit. Yes, I know,” he muttered. Whoever he was talking to this time, only he knew.
All in all, Bromington-on-sea had a very good vibration.
Apart from the unfortunate death, the tragic accident, the other passings were quite natural. Even those souls who were yet to cross and were in no hurry. But something else was brewing. His dreams were never wrong. A curse or a blessing whichever way you looked at it, James Sallow had a nose for these things. Spirits, premonitions, messages, phenomena, ever since he was a young child, visitors came to him on a frequent basis.
“I shall come back on the morrow,” he announced. He gave a fleeting glance to the dark shops, the outline of the church high on the hill and the distant, lapping water. Tiredness enveloped him, but no matter. He had the after- hours code to get in the front door of the B & B and a comfortable bed was calling, he could be there in three minutes. While most were asleep, he slipped away in the dark of the night.
The rear lights came on, the sleek car turned around, heading towards Wodehouse B & B. James turned into the drive leading to the rear car park and took his overnight bag from the passenger seat. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a dog barking, the yapping came from inside the stone building. Just as quick, it stopped. The hour was late, and he crept up to the front entrance as quiet as he could. A security light came on outside the main door. As soon as he pressed the code on the small tin box, he pulled it open and gained access to a front door key. A lamp on the hallway table of the B & B had been left on, and he took the set of keys to room No. 4. from a porcelain bowl.
Dimmed floor lighting automatically showed him the way as it flicked on when he approached the stairwell. Small blue lights on the skirting boards led the way without disturbing the other guests. The carpet was thick underfoot which he appreciated. A wave of guilt swept over him for showing up so late. Only temporarily, for James did not dwell on rules, not too much.
A real keyhole and lock. So much better than an impersonal plastic card, which never worked the first time. How often he had wrestled, attempting to turn the red light into a green for entry. James slipped inside, locking the door behind him. Comfort and style were two things the psychic medium had high on his personal wish list. The room did not disappoint. A bedside lamp had been left on for his late check-in. A dragonfly tiffany lamp with a solid brass base. It was no surprise to find Egyptian cotton sheets above and below a 10.5 tog summer duvet, hypoallergenic to suit all guests. A king size bed adorned in simple cream with a luxurious satin runner and matching cushions for effect. The curtains were closed. Very heavy, thermal lined, soundproof, a blanket of protection from the outside world.
“This is all very luxurious, Dorothea. Don’t think I can’t see you. Off you go now, one is simply exhausted and needs to retire.” James closed the bathroom door for his nightly ritual. Having showered earlier, he merely brushed with his cosmetic toothpaste, spitting the black remnants into the sparkling clean sink before carefully rinsing it all away. He freshened his face with raw shea butter hydrating wipes and switched off the light.
The luxurious bathtub and multi- jetted shower could wait for the morning. He set the alarm on his mobile phone and sunk into the deepest sleep within two minutes of his head resting on the comfiest pillows he had ever experienced.
~
Rosie Wodehouse was up bright and early. As was Anna Rose. The two were best friends forever and then some. The previous year, Rosie had inherited the B & B together with the adjoining private residence next door, which was home to them both and Jane, Anna’s mum.
Although Jane wouldn’t be around too much longer. She was all set to marry Walter, Rosie’s father, who lived in the adorable Riverside Cottage at the Garden Centre a few miles down the road. Another bequest from Dorothea. Walter had divorced his adulterous wife, Mildred, and both he and his daughter, Rosie, had moved to Bromington-on-sea to make a new life.
Jane would be moving in with Walter after they wed and currently her apartment on the middle floor of the Wodehouse apartments next-door was awash with materials. She was hand-making bridesmaid dresses for both Anna, her daughter, and Rosie, her soon to be stepdaughter. She loved them both with a passion.
Anna came bounding downstairs, taking two at a time. It was 6:30 a.m. She bypassed Jane’s floor and tapped gently on Rosie’s door. It wasn’t so much of a tap, more of a light tinkling of fingertips, so as not to disturb Bear. Bear was still as much of a puppy as the day Rosie brought him home. A round fluffball he was then. His beige and grey head was still too big for his tiny beige body. He had grown to his full height, which was lower than her knees. Bear was a playful, noisy teddy on legs.
Rosie opened the door and Bumble, Rosie’s ginger and black cat, pushed her way into No.1. She had appeared from nowhere and taken her place at the front of the queue.
“Morning Anna, come in. I’m a bit behind today.”
“Just as well I know you, Rosie Boo-boo, your nightie is tucked inside your knickers my dear. Coffee?” Anna always called Rosie, Boo-boo, an affectionate nickname.
“Yes please, could you let Bear…”
“Out into the garden - yes. Chop, chop, we’re on duty in precisely fifteen minutes.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Rosie shouted while brushing her teeth. “Did you hear the late guest?”
“No. I was out like a light last night. I did manage to finish my latest oil portrait.”
“Not the portrait?” Rosie shouted.
“The very same! But you’re not seeing it until the wedding day. I want to see the look on your face. It’s the best yet.” Anna was pleased, this was her wedding present for the happy couple. A beautiful portrait of them in oils. If she said it herself, she was an outstanding artist.
“Spoilsport. We really must find a new cook for the B & B now Betty’s retired. Especially during this busy season.”
“I’ve told you,” Anna called back, before talking on a quieter level as her friend joined her in the kitchen. “Put an advert in. I don’t mind cleaning, in fact, I insist. After all, I do get a part-time wage and I have plenty of hours to paint. But you, you need to start full-time on this Wodehouse Mystery Agency of yours.”
“Yes. It sounds so much better than Private Investigator, even though I have my license now.”
“With a fast track from Matthew’s input!”
“Well, what’s the use in having a Sergeant for a fiancé if I can’t pull a few strings now and again!” Rosie didn’t dwell there. Anna had recently split with Brandon, much sooner than expected. Not because it was written in Dorothea’s prophecy, which the two of them had stumbled upon a year ago, but because Brandon, who bore a close resemblance to a male in a dishy coke advert, was caught red-handed with another woman. According to Dorothea’s hidden papers, Anna would meet a man called Bradley Stimpson, her true love.
The clacking of the cat-flap caught their attention. It was a new one, more of a doggy-flap, to accommodate Bear’s adorable big head. He ran around the kitchen all excited to start the new day.
“I promise, when I get back boy, we’ll go for a lovely…”
“Don’t say the word, Rosie!”
Rosie set down a bowl of fresh water and dog food, while Anna poured cat milk and forked something fishy into two bowls, up on the worktop for Bumble.
This was their cue to sneak out backwards and rush for the locked, adjoining door to the B & B. The eggs and bacon wouldn’t cook itself!
Anna grabbed the orders from the hall table, after a quick scan, she could see how many were having cooked. Phew, no-one was breakfasting before 07:30 today, that gave them a little more time. Rosie was already setting out the assortment for the long sideboard. Jams, marmalades, all made from fresh produce from the Garden Centre, by Sybil and her sister, Betty, who could never fully retire.
Like clockwork, they laid cutlery and set the tables. Jane had been helping until recently, but Rosie insisted she stopped and concentrated on her wedding, it was only a month away and there was so much to do still.
“No order from No.4?” Rosie asked.
“I expect Mr. Sallow didn’t have time. I’m sure he will make an appearance soon!” Anna poured juices, Rosie set out glass bowls overflowing with fruit, fresh yoghurts and plastic containers with various cereals.
“What a gorgeous day, Boo-boo. The sun’s up already.” The two friends took a moment to look outside the patio doors. The garden was in full bloom. Roses, honeysuckle, an abundance of wild-flowers growing in the rockery behind the small pond. Several bird tables nested in the trees and…
“Good morning, ladies. I hope I’m not too early.” James Sallow had entered the room, taking a moment or two to look over the hostess’s in their spotless white blouses, black skirts and flat working shoes.
“James Sallow. Room number four.”
Rosie and Anna turned. Their guest was suave, sophisticated and very well-heeled.
“Please, take a seat Mr. Sallow. Would you like tea or coffee?” Rosie offered, while Anna headed off to the kitchen. It was just a few minutes past seven.
“Coffee please. Black. You must be a relative of dear Dorothea. The red hair… you have her eyes.”
“Yes. I’m Rosie Wodehouse. I inherited the B & B from my great aunt. Did you know her?” Rosie asked, slightly bemused.
“Oh, goodness, no, dear. Never met her until last night.” James unfolded the napkin, placed small reading glasses at the end of his nose and picked up the laminated menu. After a moment he unhooked them, they sat on his chest, hanging from a very ornate lanyard.
Rosie came back a few minutes later with a pot of coffee and a small pen and pad. A delicious aroma began wafting out from the kitchen. “What can I get you?” Rosie was also good at playing games. If Mr. Sallow was waiting for her to ask where he met Dorothea, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction! After all, the ladies had all met her, several times now. As had the odd guest.
~
The three women had met Dorothea in different degrees of her ghostly form. Rosie’s Great Aunt first appeared as a glimpse of a shadow in an upstairs window. Her presence was very often felt by Anna. The deceased lady had an eye for art and was frequently floating around when Anna was hard at work, creating one of her stunning paintings. Maybe one day she would create something to show Dorothea in all her glory. Once she had captured her essence enough to justify a captivating portrait.
Jane, Anna’s mother, was a sensitive. She felt spirit, heard spirit and Dorothea was transforming, building her energies around her. Jane was sure it was only a matter of time before the two of them would be able to communicate in a two-way conversation.
Rosie had a different experience with her Great Aunt. She had found a way from the other side to communicate with her Great Niece. If Dorothea wanted to grab her attention, she made sure items would find their way to her, by whatever means! It wouldn’t be subtle: the loud thud of a book, an appearance of an item which hadn’t been there moments before, the ringing of a doorbell, or interference with a clock. Dorothea would grab her attention whatever way she could. It was becoming more frequent of late.
It didn’t stop there. Rosie had found papers in her Aunt’s belongings. Some of it was not for anyone else to see, the private diary, the letters. Rosie would respect Dorothea and leave those things alone. The other papers were more like an instruction list of who would or would not dwell in this wonderful house. Glimpses of the future. Which is exactly how Rosie and Anna found out who they were destined to marry. They were also blissfully aware they would live in harmony in this big house forevermore.
Rosie was lucky enough to have found her perfect man, before reading the papers, but Anna was still waiting for hers.
~
James Sallow was ready to order, after perusing the menu at leisure. “Scrambled eggs, salmon, a dash of dill, lemon and wholemeal toast, thank you. Oh, do you have fresh grapefruit, and cranberry juice?”
“Yes, Mr. Sallow. Do help yourself, those items are laid out on the side.” Rosie smiled and walked away.
~
James allowed himself a small grin. The young lady had plenty of spirit, charm, and did not bow down to self-indulgent people of means. He liked her.
An eventful first weekend
At 09:30, James slipped out from the Bed & Breakfast. He was booked in for two more nights and he wanted to arrive at Bromington Heights before the estate agent’s representative. There was nothing more bothersome than a young whippersnapper who fit into a size 32” tight trouser. All white teeth, excessively styled hair and a lack of basic human understanding with all things fundamental. He would almost guarantee Mr. Andrew Middleton would be i
n the first trimester of his life span, sporting a creased shirt.
~
“You never know what we might find at the jumble, Rosie Boo-boo. Hopefully we will get there when the doors open.”
“He is getting on my nerves already. Surely for a weekend stay he could have made do with the same bedding!”
“Mr. Particular Sallow. Well, we have to be on our best behaviour. He could be a hotel inspector or something.”
“I’m going to advertise as soon as I get back, there’s no getting out of it, we need some staff, maybe not full-time, but just during busy periods,” Rosie said.
The two friends were doing a lot of early starts, it was the busy season right now. All the cooking, cleaning, office work and Anna’s paintings was a bit of a tight squeeze. After their work was done they went back next-door to their home.
Rosie glanced at Bear while she spoke. “Do you think he is a hotel inspector? There is something odd about James Sallow. Oh, Bear, drop it, you naughty boy. Let go; now!” The young pup grabbed the greasy chip from the discarded wrapper and gobbled it while Anna grabbed the white paper before he could eat any more, she tossed it in the nearby bin.
“No! I was pulling your leg. He left two cards on his dressing table this morning. ‘Physic Waves’ paranormal agency – James Sallow. Plus, an estate agent’s card ‘Middleton Country Homes.’”
“Really? I wonder what he’s doing in this neck of the woods then?” Rosie thought aloud. In good time they made their way down to the harbour front.
“Ladies! How are you? Hello Bear, long time no see, are you going to the jumble?” Iris Jackson, the local baker, was just helping her daughter Liz bag up some fresh cakes for their Saturday stall.
“Hi, Rosie. Hello, Anna. Do you want first refusal on our red velvet cake? I know it’s your favourite!” Liz teased them.
Rosie handed over the money in a flash. “Yum, thank you, Liz. Pop it in a bag and yes, Iris. We’re going to the jumble.”
