by Carrie Marsh
The clients, lined up in front of her or behind her, were the same clients she saw at the hotel where she worked as receptionist: two elderly ladies, one deaf major and three farmers, all coming to file their tax returns or claim their health benefits. She was third in line – behind two of the farmers and mercifully ahead of Major Hogan, the deaf war veteran. Laura sighed and craned her neck to see what was happening ahead.
“Thank you, Mr. Lewis. Next, please!” the woman behind the desk sang out. One thing about it being a small office, Laura thought, was that everyone knew everyone personally. It could be a blessing or a curse. She sighed as the man at the head of the line walked through the double doors behind her. One down, one to go.
The next man, Farmer Murray, was faster, clearly more organised or with less-complex matters to address. Then it was her. Laura found herself rocking on her high-heeled shoes, feeling strangely twitchy. Come on, Laura, she chided herself. It's a municipal office. They don't kill people. Why are you getting scared?
“Miss Howcroft?”
Laura jumped, startled out of her reverie by the secretary, suddenly calling her name.
“Yes? Yes. I'm here to file my tax report?”
“ID, please?”
Laura handed in the appropriate documents and stood, rocking on her heels as the secretary perused them. She keyed in some things on the computer and scrolled down the screen.
“You seem to qualify for a rebate?” the woman frowned distastefully, as if upset by the idea of the tax office actually paying out.
“Really?” Laura could not have been more surprised. It was the last thing she had expected, too.
“If you'll go and see one of our consultants?” the woman continued. “Wait there in the plastic chairs until someone's free.” She pointed desultorily across to where a row of plastic chairs lined a hallway. Laura nodded.
That is last thing I thought would happen. She dutifully seated herself in the plastic chairs, not sure whether the sudden surprise was something good: in her experience, surprises came in two flavours – nice and nasty. Though a return from the tax office seemed to be one of the nice ones. She leaned back in the chair and looked around.
Before her were two small cubicles, each with a shut door. The consultants' names were indicated on the doors: Richard Simmons and Albert Hugh.
“Albert Hugh?” Laura said aloud, feeling surprised. Her parents' only relative – that was, her mother's cousin Judy – had married a man called Albert Hugh. Laura wondered idly if it was the same man. Probably plenty of people with the name Albert Hugh, she thought, laughing at herself. Why would it be this one?
It jogged her memory. Laura hadn't seen her Cousin Judy in years. A tall woman with red hair and a voice like a PA system, her biannual visits had not been something Laura had relished during her childhood. They had lost contact shortly after Judy married Albert Hugh. That must be close on twenty years ago. As a ten-year-old, Laura had not been entirely upset about that. With the benefit of maturity, however, Laura felt she judged the woman too harshly.
Family is family, after all. She had not seen her own mother in five years, since her first move from her mother's home on the outskirts of Cambridge and into her own apartment. Then, she had worked as a secretary at a law firm on the other side of town, and getting away from her depressing mother and her silent father had been something of a relief. Family was, however, something she was feeling nostalgic about now. She was surprised to feel a sudden ache in her heart, a stab of wistfulness. If she did have relatives in the village, she would be pleased to find out.
“Next, please!”
The voice of a sandy-haired man in the doorway labeled “Simmons” broke Laura's reverie, and she jumped, momentarily shattered.
“Oh!” she said, embarrassed. “Sorry. I was miles away.”
“Not a problem, Miss.” the man smiled tolerantly. “We're all miles away sometimes.”
Laura nodded and felt the strange nervousness one usually feels when encountering tax-officials. “Quite so,” she affirmed. “I was told to come here – I have a rebate?”
“Oh!” the man looked surprised. “Good for you. Richard Simmons.” He shook her hand. “If I can have your details, please?”
He waved her to a comfortable chair before his small wooden desk and proceeded to look things up on his computer.
“It's quite rare to get something back on tax, isn't it?” he beamed at Laura as he worked. He had a fresh-washed air, and Laura thought he would be excellent in a toothpaste commercial.
“Yes,” Laura said dryly. “A real surprise.”
“Surprises are always good, though,” he said solidly. Laura raised an eyebrow sceptically.
After twenty minutes, Laura left the office, richer by a few hundred pounds and feeling rather happy, if tired. She looked at her watch – it was almost six o' clock. She had been in the office for just over an hour and everyone else had either finished their business or gone back home. As she passed the secretary, who was leaving for the day, she remembered her earlier musing. She cleared her throat.
“I just wanted to ask,” she began. “The consultant – Mr. Hugh. Do you know him?” she asked.
“I know everyone in the village, Miss Howcroft,” the woman said proudly.
Laura smiled politely. “Well, I wanted to ask you: is he married? Only my mother's cousin married an Albert Hugh and...” she trailed off as the secretary, a small robust woman, interrupted her excitedly.
“She’s called Judy or your cousin?”
“Yes!” Laura said, surprised.
“There you are, then,” the woman beamed. “Welcome to Millerfield,” she added, patting Laura's hand. “Everyone knows everyone here. You're practically family.”
Laura smiled weakly and followed the woman out as she locked up for the day.
Well, perhaps death and taxes aren't so inevitable. Laura left the office, feeling a little dazed. It was late afternoon, the sun shining down, turning the clouds to pewter. The car-park smelled of rain and asphalt, and the air was fresh and clean.
Laura hopped into the ageing Renault and stepped on the gas. As she drove back home, she thought about the new information she had gleaned about her family. She wasn't sure if she wanted to contact Judy or not – she couldn't quite imagine what the woman was like now. I think I'll just let the matter rest, she decided.
After five minutes, she was pulling up outside her tiny cottage at the opposite side of the village. She caught sight of herself in the rear-view mirror – her blonde curls were disarrayed, but her red lipstick was still intact, giving her the look of a slightly surprised Sharon Stone. Not too bad, she thought to herself, as she tucked a curl behind her ear and shut the door. She might just have a visitor – Howard Lucas, the village doctor often stopped by on his way back from work at the clinic – and she wanted to look good.
“Home again!” she sang out to Monty, her cat, as she pulled open the front door. She was unsurprised to see him stalk through from the kitchen, or her bedroom – wherever he had been asleep, looking mildly annoyed. He stretched himself out fluidly and then sat down in front of her, looking up into her eyes with his sparkling green gaze.
You're late, he complained.
Laura sighed. She and Monty had a special connection – she had always been able to talk to him. It was some sort of connection of their minds that only she and he could share, a telepathic speech from him, which she answered verbally. It was a delight, though it also meant he could address all his complaints to her in person. And he had plenty of those.
“I know,” Laura agreed wearily. She bent down and stroked his silky black fur. “I was at the tax office. They gave me money back.”
Can we have fish? he asked hopefully. I'm sick to death of that rabbit Mr. Poole brings in.
Laura laughed. “We can have fish. I promise. It's not the expense that puts me off...I just don't trust fish bought inland,” she explained.
You could get fish from the lake, he poi
nted out.
Laura laughed, amazed by his mental alacrity. He had answers for everything. She went through to the kitchen to find something for Monty's dinner. “I could,” she agreed fairly. “I've not had fish for a while either.”
You eat fish when he brings it, he sulked. But you never get fish for me.
The “he” was Howard Lucas – Laura's friend and potential boyfriend, the village doctor. The jealousy between Monty and Howard was both endearing and tiring. Howard actually liked Monty, and was totally oblivious to Laura's connection to him. It was just that Monty insisted on keeping up the feud, being possessive of her affections and not wanting to share her with anyone else.
Laura bit back a grin and found a leftover tin of tuna which she had been saving for making pie. “How about this?” she asked. She opened it and placed it in the bowl before Monty. He purred.
That's more like it!
She could almost see him smile. She smiled too, and turned to the stove to cater to her own needs.
She made herself some tea and put a crumpet on the toaster to warm, spreading it with delicious farm butter. She carried it through to the sitting-room and sat in the last of the late-afternoon sunshine.
“This is the life,” Laura sighed. This was why she had moved to Millerfield and stayed, despite the initial hostility and the murderous happenings of the past year. She loved the rural life – the peace, the tranquillity, the sameness. Having been raised on the outskirts of Cambridge herself, Laura was used to rural living. Her few extended stays in London had been a nightmare: the noise, the smell of the cars, the constant rush and traffic. She had hated it. It was the last one of those that had made her decide to search for work in the countryside.
I'm so glad I found Millerfield, she thought happily. Monty walked in from the kitchen and sat on the mat, licking his whiskers. Then he jumped onto her knee. It's not just me: Monty is happier here, Laura realised, stroking him. He had hated her trips to the courthouse in London.
Laura yawned and looked at her watch. It was only six p.m., but she had been awake until one a.m. the previous night at a function at the hotel. The long day was finally catching up with her. She set aside her tea and was startled out of her reverie by the phone ringing.
“Coming,” she sang out. She answered the phone. Monty, dispatched from her knee, sat on the floor at her feet sulkily.
“Laura?”
“Howard! Hi!” Laura said, pleasantly surprised. She had expected to see him for supper later – it was her half-day and he usually visited for dinner.
“I'm sorry – I'm going to be late.” he said quietly.
“Oh?” Laura felt instant concern. His voice was tense and the tension set her on edge. “Is anything the matter?”
“You could say that,” Howard said tightly. “I've been called by the police. They found a body.”
“Oh...” Laura felt the phone drop from her nerveless fingers. Oh, Heavens! Not again, please. She closed her eyes, feeling suddenly sick. “Where?”
“At the bank.”
Laura sat down on the bed, head reeling. Death and taxes. The only two inevitabilities.
Is it murder? She wanted to ask it, but was almost scared to do so. It didn't have to be. It wasn't. “Are you okay?” she asked instead.
“I'm fine,” Howard said. His voice sounded infinitely weary. “I'll be done here in about an hour. Then can I come and visit? I want to talk.”
“Sure,” Laura agreed gently. “I want to see you, too.”
“Thanks. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Laura hung up but did not move from the bed. Her heart felt like ice. Her whole body was cold. Monty jumped onto her knee and she sat stroking him. Waiting for news of a death.
CHAPTER TWO
EVENING NEWS
Howard walked in at eight o' clock. He dragged himself in over the threshold and ran a weary hand down his brow. His tall frame was stooped and he looked exhausted, dark rings around his eyes.
“Hi, Laura,” he sighed and flopped into an armchair in the sitting-room. He covered his face in his hands and his shoulders slumped. He looked up at her, chin still propped on his hands.
“Tell me,” Laura said gently. She sunk into the sofa opposite, taking his hands in hers.
Howard drew in a long breath. “Not a lot to tell,” he said. “A man was found dead in the entrance to the bank – you know, where the cash-machine is?” Laura nodded, visualizing the place.
“How did he die?”
“I don't know what killed him yet,” Howard sighed. “Not a mark on him, besides some bruising on his arms. And he was blue in the face. Either he choked, or it's congestive heart failure. Those are my two guesses just now. Poor man,” he looked at his hands, lost in memory.
“Who is he?” Laura asked. “Is it someone we know?”
“Albert Hugh.”
What?
Laura gripped the side of the sofa, feeling like she was somehow in stuck a bad dream.
“Albert Hugh?” How strange is it, that I just discovered I have a relative, and now he's dead? Thoughts whirled around her head. Was it a natural death? Was he killed?
To be continued…
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I hope you have enjoyed this story as well.
“THE DEAD AMONG US” is a standalone story.
If you have enjoyed reading “Book 1 - The Deadly Jellybean Affair” so far, I believe you will be interested in checking out “Book 4 - The Dead Among Us”.
With no murders plaguing Millerfield for over a year, Laura Howcroft is finally able to enjoy her surroundings without distraction. But when an uninvited guest turns Janet's new home upside down, Laura finds herself back on the case and trapped in the 1800’s... just in time for a murder.
The only thing worse than a murder is a haunting... but can the two be one in the same?
With no murders plaguing Millerfield for over a year, Amateur sleuth Laura Howcroft is finally able to enjoy her surroundings without distraction. Happy to settle into life with the man she loves, and Monty too, of course. Laura is able to focus her attention on being the best receptionist the Woodend Cottage Hotel has ever seen. Even Janet has finally found the love of her life. What could possibly go wrong?
But when an uninvited guest turns Melrose Place - Janet's new home - upside down, Laura finds herself, not only back on the case, but trapped in the 1800’s... just in time for a murder. With a strange ghost scaring away all of the clientele and potential buyers from Melrose Place and a brutal murder playing out in front of her in a visit to the past, Laura, Howard, and Monty find themselves on opposite sides of time. But what could a centuries old murder have to do with a present day haunting?
Can Laura discover a connection between the Melrose Place Haunting and the ghost of a dead aristocrat?
Or is something far more sinister at work?
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CHAPTER ONE
THE HAUNTED GARDEN
“...Laura?” Janet said nervously, “did you see that?”
“Mm?” Laura asked, looking up from the brochure that lay across her knees. “See what?”
“I thought I saw something moving on the edge of the woods,” Janet said. “Probably a dog,” she added with a careless shrug. “The neighbors really should keep their dogs out of the woods. Why can't they use leashes?”
Laura was sitting on the hearth rug, drinking tea. She stood and walked over to the window to join Janet. “You're right. Although, I can understand the temptation to go walking around here, with or without dogs – it's so beautiful, Jay.”
“It is, isn't it?” Janet said, with a soft smile on her fa
ce. “I love it. I love everything about it – even the collection of antique maps,” she added, indicating the bookshelf in the corner of the sitting room.
Laura smiled. The place in question was Melrose Place, the home of Ben Murray, handsome local wheat farmer. Now, it was Janet's home as well. It was unusual to see Janet so relaxed, and Laura laughed. Ben Murray and Janet had become engaged six months ago. Janet was still in love with every little thing Ben did, even his choice of books. Laura was here, staying with Janet, to help her plan the wedding. It was scheduled for six months from then, but there was still a lot to do in that time, and the sooner they started, the better.
She ran a hand through the length of her pale hair and went across to the bookshelf where Janet stood. It was mostly lined with history books about the area, and she lifted a few down, looking at them with detached interest.
“I suppose it is interesting,” she said reasonably, “but it does make me glad to be alive now.” She lifted a book with a vivid battle scene on the front cover.
“Exactly!” Janet said. She pointed to an area over the fence. “That's the place I wish I knew about,” she added speculatively.
“Mm?” Laura asked, craning her neck to see what Janet indicated.
“There's supposedly a ruined mansion in the woods not far from here. Ben knows a bit about it,” Janet explained. “Apparently it was the seat of Count Asquith, some important nobleman in the nineteenth century. His family owned the land where Millerfield stands, and most of the forest. I guess we'd be his servants, if we were around then,” she chuckled.
Laura laughed. “All the more reason to be safely in the twenty-first century.”
“Quite,” Janet replied. “Though sometimes I feel like owning my own business is an even more thankless job than farming some count's fields...” she chuckled, running a hand through her flame red hair.
