by Mona Marple
And with that, Bobby was led out of the room, out of the Manor and into the waiting squad car.
24
The police insisted that everyone remain at the Manor until they were spoken to individually and the place was searched.
A bag of dripping wet clothes were recovered from the spot Grace had described and carried from the house.
Connie spent a pleasant hour in the bedroom with the twins, all three of them snuggled in bed. They made the most beautiful noises as they gurgled and cooed.
Taylor opened the door. “The police are done. We can go.”
Connie smiled with relief. Sharing her theory and the killer’s identity had taken all of her energy. She wanted to return home, sink into a hot bubble bath and then sleep for at least eight hours.
“Mother wants to speak to you first,” Taylor said. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.”
“No, no, I’ll go,” Connie said. She left the twins with Taylor and padded downstairs. Eliza was alone in the sun room, her wheelchair positioned so that she was looking out at the grounds.
“You wanted to talk to me?” Connie asked.
Eliza gave no sign that she’d heard, and Connie approached her, knelt down by her side.
“So you’re really a medium?” Eliza asked.
“I am, yes,” Connie said. She was always nervous about revealing her gift; some people believed, others were dubious, and still others believed her to be a charlatan.
“Believe people are reunited after death?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Connie said. In her experience, it wasn’t as simple as that.
“My husband, Ivan, I don’t think I ever told him I loved him,” Eliza said. Her voice was flat, emotionless. “It was a different time. I always made sure he came home to a hot meal, though. These women nowadays, they don’t do that. Look where it got them.”
“Well,” Connie said. “I don’t think that’s why they died, Eliza.”
“You really think Bobby did it?”
Connie nodded. She considered the news that Taylor had delivered to her earlier. “He’s confessed. I think he’s hoping for some kind of plea deal.”
Eliza smirked. “Sounds like Bobby.”
“Well, we can go now,” Connie said. “Are you packed? Do you need any help?”
“I’ve got it sorted,” Lynn said. She gave Connie a smile. “The car’s loaded.”
“How long have you known that this is your granddaughter?” Connie asked, gesturing towards Lynn with a flick of her head.
“She’s the spitting image of her mother,” Eliza said. “And Bobby was always making an excuse to talk to her. Either he was getting like Christopher with an eye for a young lady, or he was her father. I’m not as slow as they reckon.”
Connie laughed. “I didn’t think you were for a second.”
**
The call came weeks later.
Eliza had passed away peacefully in her sleep.
The funeral was an odd affair. The prison allowed Bobby to attend, and so he stood on one side of the grave shackled to prison guards, while the rest of the family stood on the other side.
Lynn stood a respectful distance away from the grave, her mother by her side. Eliza was right; the girl was the spitting image of Hannah. How could Grace have missed it? It seemed, in that family, that people saw what they wanted to.
The family gathered at the family lawyer’s offices afterwards for the reading of the Will.
The lawyer was a shrunken old man who sat in a high-backed chair that swamped his tiny frame. He used three pairs of glasses, one behind the other behind the other, to create the perfect reading prescription.
“All fairly simple,” he said as he scanned the document. He cleared his throat. “We’ve got half to the local cats’ shelter…”
“Are you kidding me?” Grace exclaimed. “When was this made?”
“Erm,” he consulted the document. “Ten years ago.”
“She didn’t even like cats!” Christopher’s voice boomed. He had been struck off as a lawyer and was wearing the most casual clothes Connie had ever seen him in. She’d heard rumours that he’d taken a job as a landscape gardener. His skin was tanned and his arms were more muscular. The change suited him.
“And the other half?” Grace demanded. She hadn’t started divorce proceedings yet. Connie was sure that she had waited for the Will reading to decide how supportive to be towards Bobby.
“Ah, yes,” the lawyer said. “The other half to Hannah Bainbridge.”
“I’ll fight this!” Grace exploded. She stood from the table and turned on the lawyer with a long fingernail extended in his direction. “I gave the best years of my life to that family, to that woman! How dare she!”
“We know who this Ms Bainbridge is, then?” the lawyer said, clearly unfussed by emotional outbursts in his office. “Can I take an address?”
“Over my dead body!” Grace exclaimed.
“That can be arranged,” Zeb quipped. “Speak to your hubby.”
“How dare you!” Grace stormed out of the office and Zeb laughed.
“She was always going to have the last laugh, wasn’t she? The old bat,” he said, and despite the awful circumstances and the old grudges, they all knew he was right. None of them could think of a better idea than to laugh, and so they did.
THE END
See how New Year is celebrated in Candy Cane Hollow in mybook.to/christmas2
The Haunting of Hawthorne Winery
1
“I can’t believe you’re getting such a grand wedding! This is a dream venue,” Sage gushed as she floated up the driveway with me.
Not for the first time, I was a little jealous of the perks my sister got by being a ghost. I was still very much alive, and very much out of breath as we climbed the steep path towards Hawthorne Winery.
I stopped for a moment and bent over, sucking in air greedily.
“You okay there, sis?”
“Sure, just… need… a… minute,” I said.
“You could have drove over with Taylor. I wouldn’t have minded walking alone,” Sage said.
“I know. We’re only a few minutes from home, though. And I wanted some time alone with you,” I explained.
“That sounds ominous.”
“Not at all! I just expect the next couple of days to be hectic with last minute preparations,” I said.
Out of nowhere, Sage gave a high-pitched squeal and I jumped back upright and looked around for the cause of her alarm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong! I just realised, you’re actually getting married! My little sis, finally putting a ring on it!”
I rolled my eyes. “Little sis. Nobody will believe that when they see the two of us together.”
“There has to be some benefit to dying so young. Eternal youth and everlasting beauty is fine by me,” Sage said with a wink.
I laughed and continued walking. “Come on, let’s get the rest of this climb over with.”
Hawthorne Winery was a grand estate headed by a replica English country house, complete with a circular tower at each end and ivy growing across the stonework facade.
“How did you guys afford this?” Sage asked. Tactfulness had never been a concept she’d studied too closely.
“We got it at a really good price. I think the place is struggling,” I said.
“They must be when you consider how quickly they fitted you in,” Sage reminded me.
“Exactly. I didn’t want months of nerves about the big day. This is much better. A simple, small wedding with the people we love.”
Sage pulled a face. “I was a total Bridezilla before my wedding.”
“I remember it well. I was there at the fitting, remember. You must have tried on fifty dresses that day,” I said. My mouth muscles were still hurting from all the hours I’d spent that day with a grin plastered on my face.
“Sixty-seven, actually. But I got the perfect one in the end.
I got the perfect everything really. We were paying off the credit cards for years.”
“The perfect everything?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, the groom was wrong, but everything else was exactly as it should have been!”
We both laughed as we finally reached the top of the incline. Although he’d been a perfectly alright kind of man, Sage had always been more woman than her husband could handle, and they’d gone their separate ways in the afterlife.
We took a moment to look up at the building before us, and as we stood there with our necks cricked, looking up, we heard a crunch of gravel behind us.
We both turned and waved as Taylor parked right outside the grand house.
I couldn’t help it, my stomach flipped as I saw him in the driving seat. He was so handsome, and so good. Taylor was the kind of man who might have been a six on the handsome charts, but his personality and morals shone from him and whipped him right up to being a ten.
“There’s your future hubby,” Sage purred beside me.
I felt my cheeks flush as he popped his door open and flashed us both a grin.
“This place is really something,” he called over to us.
He opened the back passenger door and our children dove out of the car and ran across to me.
I knelt down and prepared myself for the impact. If I’d taught the twins anything, it was to hug hard and often.
They slammed into me like a wall of love, and I buried myself in their scent.
“Hello, my babies,” I said.
They were three years old and nothing like the tiny infants they’d been when I met them, back before Taylor and I had fallen in love and they’d become ours.
“We’re not babies, mom!” Scarlett objected.
“You’ll always be my babies,” I said, then planted a kiss atop each of their heads and pushed myself back up to standing.
I greeted Taylor with a kiss and watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Work?” I asked.
“A Sheriff’s work is never done,” Sage said. She’d been dating the former Sheriff, Patton, for years and often sulked about him still helping with cases even though he was dead.
“No work for me. Just turning this thing off,” Taylor said. He leaned in and gave me another kiss and my heart fluttered.
“Alright, that’s enough! There are children around,” Sage said with a laugh.
“They’re always kissing,” Axel said.
“She kisses us more,” Scarlett added.
“It’s not a competition, guys. There’s plenty of love to go around,” Taylor called as he returned to the car and began unloading the boot.
Sage and I followed him.
“This is all you’ve packed?” Sage asked.
“We’re only here for two nights,” I said.
“And Connie thought that was excessive,” Taylor said with a grin as he pulled our modest suitcase out of the vehicle.
“We didn’t need to stay at all. It’s so close to home, it seems indulgent,” I said.
“Sure, this place might be right on the edge of Mystic Springs, but still. It’s your wedding. You’re meant to be indulgent!” Sage scolded me.
“Kids, come and get your cases,” Taylor called.
I watched as the children came bounding over to grab their individual cases on wheels, and as I did, I saw a shape at an upstairs window. A face.
Someone was watching us.
Despite the warmth of the day, a shudder ran down my spine.
2
“It’s the bride and groom! Welcome, welcome! Welcome to Hawthorne Winery!”
A compact woman in a twinset and pearls appeared at the door of the grand house.
In her hand she held a tray with glasses of fizzy wine, and we all dumped the luggage and accepted the refreshing drinks. All of us apart from Sage, of course, since ghosts can’t eat or drink.
“The ones with the added raspberries are for the kids,” the woman explained.
I flashed her a grateful smile and handed Scarlett and Axel a glass each.
“Be super careful guys, okay? These are grown-up glasses!”
The woman gave a quick shake of her head. “I buy them by the hundred, don’t worry. I’m Petunia Hawthorne and I’m so delighted to have you join us for your special occasion.”
“Beautiful place you have here,” Taylor said.
“Thank you! My husband and I started this place many moons ago. It’s been a labour of love,” Petunia said.
“I’ll bet. Are we the only guests?” I asked.
Petunia looked at the car parking spaces, all empty apart from our own. “Yes, it’s just you. In fact, Connie, I was hoping I might have a word with you about that.”
“Of course,” I said.
I glanced at Taylor and he whisked the twins and the luggage away. He was an efficient man, but nothing could get my sister away from the suggestion of some gossip, and she stayed firmly by my side.
“I do hate to burden you on the eve of your wedding,” Petunia said, her voice low. She walked a distance from the grand house and Sage and I followed.
“It’s okay. I’m not your typical bride. And, anyway, the wedding isn’t until tomorrow evening,” I said as I tucked one of my dark curls behind my ear.
“”You are the Connie Winters I’m thinking you are, right?” Petunia asked. She gave me a meaningful look that I didn’t understand.
“If you’re asking whether she’s the Connie Winters who ate her own boogers until she was at least twelve, the answer is yes,” Sage teased.
“Oh!” Petunia exclaimed with a giggle.
“Don’t listen to Jane, here,” I retorted.
Sage glared at my use of her birth name.
“Well, I was more referring to your talents. You’re the medium, aren’t you? Please say yes,” Petunia gushed.
“Ah,” I said. I knew where this was going. Everyone and their cat wanted connecting with a lost loved one. Just like Sheriffs, it seemed that mediums were never off duty.
“It is you! Don’t be shy. I’m a fan,” Petunia said with a grin that revealed surprisingly large teeth.
I smiled. “I’m a medium, yes. Are you looking to be connected with someone?”
“Oh no. I don’t have any time for ghosts! No offence, Jane,” Petunia flashed Sage an apologetic smile.
“Oh, okay,” I said.
“I want you to get rid of a ghost, not ask her to show herself or anything like that. Can you do that?”
“Well, it’s not really…”
“You’re the best medium in town. Surely you can,” Petunia said.
“She’s the only medium in town,” Sage corrected her.
“So, you can do it?” Petunia asked. She looked at me, her face full of hope, and I couldn’t find the heart to refuse her.
“I can give it a go, but I’m confused. Everyone in Mystic Springs can see ghosts. You can’t see this one?”
Petunia shook her head. “I’ve never seen her and I don’t want to.”
“How do you know she’s here, then?”
“She does things. Bad things! She’s very angry. She tears up clothes and…”
“She’d better not try to cause any trouble for my sister, or I’ll sort the ghost out myself,” Sage said. She crossed her arms and looked up at the house.
“What else has she done?”
“She’s stolen jewellery and she’s shown herself to some guests. She only comes out at night, and I make sure I never get out of bed in the small hours! I don’t want to see her,” Petunia said.
“So she’s tormenting the guests?”
“It’s not tormenting. It’s much worse. One of the guests was so scared by her, she got in her car and drove right into a tree!”
“I heard about that. It was in the newspapers. She was a traffic warden,” I said.
“That’s right. Her name was Libby Louth. She was friends with one of my daughters,” Petunia said.
�
�That’s awful. I had no idea that she’d died trying to flee from a ghost,” I said.
“I managed to persuade the journalist not to include that bit. There were already rumours and Libby’s death being linked with a ghost would just be the kiss of death for the winery!”
“If there’s a ghost here doing these things, it must be some kind of dark force. Those spirits usually return to a place that has meaning to them. Do you know anything about the history of the site?”
Petunia shook her head. “Not really. We bought it with Sidney’s inheritance years and years ago, and just added to it bit by bit. It was just fields when we bought it.”
“Sidney?”
“My husband.”
“And the person who left him the inheritance?” I asked.
Petunia frowned. “It was some great-aunt or something. She was ancient. I never even met her, but apparently Sidney was always her favourite. She was some old spinster who’d never spent a penny in her life. It was a nice chunk of money to get us started, but it’s long gone now.”
“It doesn’t sound like there’s much chance the ghost is the great-aunt,” I said.
“Goodness, no. She was a sweet old thing by all accounts. Now I don’t want to take your attention away from your wedding, but if you could find just a minute to reach out to this ghost and banish them away, you’d be saving our business.”
Sage gave me an unconvinced look. But she’d always been better at saying no than I had. Unless the question involved buying new make-up.
“Sure, I can help,” I heard myself say.
3
Petunia led us into the hallway of the grand house and I tried to stifle a laugh. While the facade was old-fashioned and classic, the inside was an explosion of colour.
Bright red carpets and flamingo-print wallpaper were the main things I noticed about the hallway, and the sitting room that Petunia led me to featured a grandfather clock, tiger-print wallpaper and a thick piled turquoise carpet.
Petunia gestured to a pastel-coloured striped sofa and I took a seat.
