Grave in the Garage (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Golden,Alison

  "Do you have any idea where he went?"

  "I'm afraid not, Inspector," Philippa said as she roughly shrugged on her thick coat, "but I can assure you, if Ted isn't in the Dog and Duck on a Friday night, something is very wrong." Philippa was now talking very quickly. One might think that she wanted to get out of the cottage as quick as she could.

  "I've had men looking for him all day. Nobody's seen him since Friday afternoon," the Inspector muttered.

  "Well, I hope you find him soon," Philippa said breathlessly, jamming her woolly hat on her head as she walked swiftly to the door. "Cheerio!"

  Before Annabelle could even think about calling Philippa back, the sound of the front door slamming echoed through the passage. She turned to the Inspector, wondering if he was feeling as vulnerable as she was on the other side of the flickering candles. She poured them each a glass of wine.

  They glanced at each other awkwardly for a few more moments, flashing embarrassed smiles across the silence. With every moment that passed, the atmosphere seemed to grow more uncomfortable.

  “Did you make any progress today?” Annabelle finally asked.

  “No, not much. As well as Ted, the teenager, Aziz Malik, is still missing, and a check on the car that was parked over the top of the pit we found Mildred in, turned up nothing.”

  They exchanged a few more flushed smiles before turning their attention to the food.

  "This really does look delicious," the Inspector said quickly. “I had no idea you could cook.”

  "Um, yes," Annabelle stuttered, unable to add anything more complex to the conversation. Immediately, she was mortified by her inability to refute the whopper Philippa had propagated about her cooking.

  In her confusion, Annabelle grabbed the wine bottle and offered the Inspector more of its contents, even though his glass was full. He shook his head. Annabelle nodded in acknowledgment, feeling foolish, and put the wine down as they once more settled back down into silence.

  After a few more seconds of what seemed to be turning into a game of patience, the Inspector picked up his fork.

  “Well, let’s dig in, shall we?”

  "Er," Annabelle said. The Inspector looked up. "Well, Philippa can be rather insistent at times. You know, I would understand perfectly if you didn't have the time to stay. You must have an awful lot of work to do."

  "No, it's fine. I haven't eaten since breakfast. The last thing I had was a pint of bitter at the Silver Swan, and I didn't even finish that." He looked down appreciatively at his plate. "Besides, I doubt I could find a better meal anywhere.”

  Annabelle smiled warmly, glad that he wanted to stay and that at least some of the awkwardness had finally dissipated. They began eating, the clink of fork against plate adding some much-needed sound to the silence.

  Suddenly the Inspector jumped in his seat, his eyes fixed upon Annabelle in a look of surprise. "Reverend!"

  "Yes?"

  "I... Didn't think... That you were that kind of..." He mumbled, utterly confused.

  "Yes?"

  "Um... never mind," he said, anxiously turning back to his plate.

  Annabelle shrugged and resumed eating.

  "So will you be staying in Upton St. Mary for a few days?" Annabelle asked as she blew on her piping-hot mixture of ground beef and potato.

  "Yes," Nicholls replied, doing the same, "I’m staying with Constable Raven's mother. She has a room available, so I'll be there at least until Monday."

  "That's good to know. I'll be sure to— Oh!"

  Annabelle jerked backward so suddenly her knee hit the table, causing all the plates to rattle and shift.

  "What is it?" the Inspector asked quickly.

  "Oh my!" Annabelle said, going a deep shade of red, again.

  "Reverend?"

  "That's very forward of you, I must say!" she said, stroking her cheek demurely.

  "What is?"

  Annabelle bowed her head and smiled slightly at her pie. "Nothing. It's perfectly fine."

  The Inspector watched her for a moment, frowning a little before shaking his head and resuming his meal. They continued to eat heartily, humming with appreciation at their meal.

  "By the way," Nicholls said suddenly, after swallowing another hefty mouthful, "where are those puppies you mentioned? Did they find space for them at the shelter?"

  "Oh no, they're right here." She turned to the corner that the puppies had made their regular sleeping spot and was surprised to find neither of them there. "Hmm. That's strange. I wonder where they are."

  She leaned back in her chair to check the living room, and spun her head around to scan the kitchen. On a whim, she lifted the tablecloth.

  "There you are!" The puppies ran out from beneath the table and placed their paws on her lap.

  Annabelle and the Inspector smiled at each other for a full three seconds before breaking out into hysterical laughter.

  "I thought that you were—"

  "I thought that you were too, but—"

  "But it was the puppies!"

  "Those rascals nearly gave me a heart attack!"

  They continued to laugh for a full minute, enjoying the release of tension that had built up between them. The pups, sensitive to the atmosphere, seemed to laugh along with them, wagging their tails excitedly. The female puppy leaped up onto the Inspector’s lap, and a moment later, the other pup pounced upon Annabelle’s.

  "I do believe these puppies are angling for some pie," Annabelle giggled.

  "Would you mind if—"

  "Oh no. There's plenty more."

  With childlike glee, the Inspector took some of the meat in his palm and grinned widely as the puppy licked it from his hand within seconds.

  "You know, Inspector, I don't think I've ever seen you quite so happy."

  "I'm much like a dog myself in many respects," he said, taking another handful of beef and offering it to his eager companion. "Excitement and unbridled happiness are infectious. It rubs off on me when it comes around. It's just that I don't see a lot of it in my line of work."

  Annabelle sat back and stroked the puppy in her lap as she enjoyed the sight of the Inspector feeding the one in his own.

  "You certainly wouldn't be short of fun and excitement with that one," she said.

  Nicholls glanced at her reflectively. "I don't know..."

  "Why don't you take care of her for the next few days, while you're in Upton St. Mary? Constable Raven’s mother already has a dog, so she would have no objections, I'm sure."

  Nicholls laughed as the dog licked his empty palm.

  "I'm supposed to be conducting a murder investigation, Reverend. Not pet-sitting!"

  "She might even help you! She'd make a terribly good sniffer dog. Why, just the other day she found a pair of gardening gloves that I could have sworn I'd thrown away."

  "Hmm," the Inspector mused as he allowed the pup to nuzzle his neck, "are you sure Mrs. Raven wouldn't mind?"

  "I'm absolutely positive."

  Nicholls scrubbed the dog’s ears and smiled into its big, soppy eyes. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to have a four-legged companion watching my back."

  "Wonderful!" Annabelle said, finally satisfied. “That’s settled then.”

  The next morning, no matter how much she attempted to focus herself upon the Sunday service, Annabelle could not remove the peculiarities surrounding Mildred's murder from her mind. It seemed to her like a complex, macabre jigsaw. She felt she already possessed half the pieces but was missing the other half. Even as she spoke to her congregation of the importance of remembrance, her mind was elsewhere looking for threads and themes connecting all the strange occurrences from the day before.

  After the service, Annabelle stood at the doors of her church, smiling and making small talk with her parishioners as they poured out of its large arched entrance to the sound of Jeremy's organ-playing. Even though she shook hands warmly and engaged her congregation with as much personality and humor as she always employed, her mind continued to sw
irl with the intricacies of the case. When the last of them left, she instinctively thought of taking her Mini Cooper for a spin around the village lanes in order to clear her thoughts, before realizing with a sense of longing that her car was still at Ian Crawford’s garage. Her disappointment was immediately followed by thoughts about the perplexing question of the village's fuel problems.

  She walked back into the church and thoughtfully made her way to the office where Philippa was waiting for her. Her church secretary always helped her hang her vestments after Holy Communion.

  “You’re very quiet today, Vicar. Are you alright? How was your evening with the Inspector?” Philippa sounded concerned.

  “Hmm? Oh, it was fine. Yes, really. Fine.”

  Philippa looked at Annabelle carefully. “Just fine? Nothing more?” There was no reply. Philippa let out a deep sigh as she slipped a coat hanger inside Annabelle’s white alb.

  Annabelle’s words came out in a rush. “Oh, Philippa, I’m perplexed. What is going on? Ted's absence from the Dog and Duck is extraordinary. It almost certainly puts him at the top of the Inspector’s list of suspects!”

  “He is a bit of a rum ’un, that Ted, Vicar. I’ll give you that. Are you so sure of his innocence? We are all capable of strange deeds when we don’t follow the word of the Lord. And he certainly doesn’t do that!”

  “Yes, I know. He’s frequently drunk, driven more by worldly desires than is good for him, but I just can’t believe it. There’s no logic to it. No money was stolen, no obvious benefit to be gained from Mildred’s murder. What could have been behind her killing?” Annabelle racked her brain, but the motive proved to be as elusive as the culprit.

  “Ted’s disappeared, Vicar. You have to face it. It seems a clear act of guilt.”

  “More is going on, Philippa. There’s been tampering of the fuel pumped at Mildred’s.” Philippa stared at Annabelle, stunned at this news. “Ian Crawford thinks that Mildred did it herself for monetary gain of some sort, but why would she do that?”

  “Do you think Mildred was in trouble, perhaps? Financially, I mean. Perhaps eking out the fuel helped her make ends meet? Small savings can make a big difference. That’s why I turn off all the lights in church.”

  Philippa looked pointedly at Annabelle. The church lights were a bone of contention between them. Annabelle liked to keep a few on at all times, even when the church wasn’t being used. Philippa thought it a sinful waste of money.

  “I doubt it. Mildred’s Garage always had plenty of work on. Her prices were cheap enough that no one would have objected if she needed to raise them. The financial benefits of stretching the fuel or even fixing the cars that broke down as a result simply wouldn’t have been worth it. Perhaps someone devised the scheme to jeopardize Mildred's reputation?

  Philippa looked at the Vicar for a long moment. Annabelle, seeing her skepticism, appealed to her, “But what about the men disappearing from home for long periods of time? Perhaps there’s a connection there?”

  “Now, now, Vicar. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for that. Why don’t I go and make you a nice cup of tea?“

  “Thank you, Philippa, but I must get on. Sundays can be such busy days. Oh,” Annabelle paused and half turned to Philippa, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard if they’ve found Aziz yet? The Inspector told me last night that he was still missing, too.”

  “No, nothing, Vicar, sorry.”

  “The Inspector went to see his parents, you know. He had a difficult time, poor man. Their English isn’t the best.” Annabelle looked at the floor, as if it were a map on which she’d find buried treasure in the form of answers to her questions, “But they are such lovely people! Surely Aziz couldn’t be involved?”

  “He’s certainly a good boy from all accounts. Mrs. Whitbread says he always helps her with her groceries and won’t accept anything but thanks in return.” Philippa was now carefully laying Annabelle’s stole in a drawer.

  Annabelle started to pace the small office.

  “According to the Inspector, his parents told him that Aziz spends much of his time out of the house, studying at the library, riding his bike, and socializing with friends.”

  “Sounds like a typical teenage boy to me,” Philippa murmured as she closed the drawer.

  “And he often spends weekends sleeping over at the houses of his schoolmates after particularly grueling study sessions. But he hasn’t been seen since teatime on Friday. His parents told the Inspector that they didn’t know what he had been doing or where he was.”

  “What about his phone? He must have a phone. All the young ones do these days.”

  “Not answering it. The Inspector thinks it is all rather suspicious, but I think there must be a simple explanation. It just doesn’t feel right to me. Oh, Philippa, it is so vexing!”

  Annabelle’s thoughts continued to whirl around in her brain like screaming banshees. When she started to feel dizzy and saw spots before her eyes, she realized she needed to calm herself down. She went outside and stood on the church steps. She breathed in the cold, damp air for a few moments, feeling refreshed by its invigorating crispness.

  Shortly, Annabelle turned back to the church and walked toward the pulpit, calmer but still deep in thought. Jeremy was at his organ, sifting through sheets of music.

  “Hello Jeremy,” Annabelle said, reassured by his stable, reliable presence.

  “Oh, hello Vicar," Jeremy replied, putting his music down and turning to Annabelle, giving her the full respect he always afforded her. "You led a remarkable service today. Thank you.”

  “I'm glad you thought so, Jeremy. Although honestly, my thoughts have been terribly clouded all morning.”

  “What's bothering you, Vicar? If I may be bold enough to ask,” he added.

  “It would be quicker to tell you what isn't bothering me," Annabelle said with a glum laugh. "Frankly, I had enough to concern me before all of this dreadful business with Mildred: the cemetery renovation project, my car breaking down, and what we're going to do with those puppies.”

  Jeremy shifted in his seat and gave Annabelle a sympathetic look. “What can seem like problems are often blessings in disguise, Vicar.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Annabelle said wistfully.

  “I'm sorry, Reverend Dixon,” Jeremy said suddenly, hanging his head in shame. “You are the last person I should be offering guidance to. Please excuse me. I was being presumptuous.”

  Annabelle laughed softly. “Don't be so bashful, Jeremy. Your advice is welcome and much-appreciated. And spot on. I'm sure that once these travails are put to rest, we'll all emerge from them stronger and wiser.”

  Jeremy's grin was wide and boyish, like that of a boy scout receiving a badge.

  “Thank you, Vicar. You are most sensible.”

  Annabelle chuckled at this rather archaic compliment.

  “Oh," Jeremy continued, "I almost forgot. I do have some good news for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Your car – a Mini, I believe? It's been repaired. Ian Crawford told me that you can pick it up today, if you like.”

  “Ah! That's wonderful," Annabelle said, clapping her hands. "At least I won't have to ride a bike in this weather. A bad case of the sniffles would really not be a blessing at this point!”

  “Of course, Vicar.”

  “So you visited Crenoweth?” Annabelle asked.

  “No. I saw Mr. Crawford here, in Upton St. Mary, last night.”

  Annabelle scratched her head and pursed her lips.

  “Really? Strange...”

  “What is, Vicar?”

  “I don't believe Ian Crawford is the sort of chap for whom there is anything of interest in Upton St. Mary. In fact, I've never seen him here in all my time serving at the church. I’m surprised, Jeremy, that you and he are acquainted. I wouldn’t have thought you two have much in common.”

  “Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Vicar,” Jeremy said, his long fingers fidgeting in his lap, “I do hope I haven't given yo
u any further cause for concern.”

  “Don't be silly, Jeremy,” Annabelle said. She was about to start ruminating again but quickly stopped herself. “I pretty much reached my full capacity for worrying long ago!” she replied, brightly.

  Annabelle was glad that the cab ride she was taking to Crenoweth would be her last – at least for the foreseeable future. She had never enjoyed the experience of being a passenger very much and would often find herself pressing phantom pedals when sitting next to the driver. At her worst, she would silently judge the driver's heaviness on the brakes, their inability to maintain smooth acceleration, their inexpert steering skills, and clunky gear changes. She knew backseat driving wasn’t her most positive of traits.

  In between silently critiquing the cab driver's handling of his taxi, Annabelle thought about what she would ask Ian Crawford once she reached his garage. The mechanic came across as shifty and devious at the best of times and seemed to revel in his ability to arouse suspicion and distrust in others. While Annabelle refused to indulge his provocative manner, she could not dismiss the deeply bothersome idea that Ian had visited Upton St. Mary recently. It was most unlike him. Annabelle knew for a fact that, when occasionally called out to the village by some unfortunate car owner who needed his services, Ian sent one of his many mechanics rather than go himself. So why had he come to the village the night following the day of the Mildred’s murder? She would ask him a few questions.

  Her prepared inquisition was for naught, however. Crawford was not to be found at the garage. Instead, the same rotund teenager who had sniffed out the cause of her Mini's problem emerged from the office to present her with the keys and a bill for the repair. When asked about his boss's whereabouts, the teenager merely shrugged and offered a mumbled reply.

  "He don't work Sundays."

  Dissatisfied and with a sense of anticlimax, Annabelle paid her bill. As she walked to her Mini, however, her excitement at getting behind the wheel once again hit her with a rush, and she got in with anticipation and relish. She turned the key in the ignition and smiled broadly when the Mini responded with a loud purr like an old pet seeing its master for the first time after an absence. She took her time settling back into the well-worn seat, savoring the feel of the wheel's leather covering. She released the handbrake with a sense of ceremony, and seconds later, she was off, her smile stretching wide across her face.