Murder in the Meadow (Rosemary Grey Cozy Mysteries Book 1)

by Tracy Donley

  “And I’ll marinate the fish and build a fire,” added Charlie.

  “And we’ll all have a glass of wine,” said Jack.

  “That sounds absolutely perfect,” said Rosemary. She started off toward her bedroom, but then stopped and looked back at the guys, who were fawning over the kitten.

  “I want you both to know something,” she said with a smile. “Even with all that’s happened today, there’s no place I’d rather be than here with you two.”

  16

  Rosemary felt like a new woman after a long, hot, vanilla-scented soak in the tub. She washed her face, brushed out her hair and pulled it into a ponytail, and donned her softest sweatshirt and broken-in pair of jeans. With Seth’s visit in mind, she swiped on a bit of tinted lip balm and headed to the kitchen.

  Fires were crackling merrily in both the living room and the little kitchen fireplaces, a bottle of white wine was chilling, and the table was set for four.

  “Ready to cook?” asked Jack as Rosemary entered the kitchen.

  “Ready,” said Rosemary. “I’ll slice the potatoes.”

  “And I’ll melt the butter,” said Jack.

  They’d made Mrs. Stone’s butter potatoes together countless times. They’d even been known to eat them right out of the pan while watching a movie. But tonight, for Seth and Charlie’s sake, they’d have to be more civilized.

  “Let’s make a big salad, too,” said Jack.

  “Sounds perfect,” said Rosemary.

  Just then, the little kitten came into the kitchen, yawning sleepily. She greeted Izzy first, who was sitting at Jack’s feet in hopes that someone would drop a crumb. Then she sauntered over to Rosemary and wound between her legs, purring happily.

  “What did I tell you?” asked Jack. “That cat loves you.”

  Rosemary was so relaxed after her bath that she was able to take a deep breath and stand very still until the little creature walked out of the room.

  “Don’t cats require things, like food and . . . other cat things?”

  “Dr. Sims packed us a little goody bag,” said Jack. “And for the few other things we still need, Seth’s stopping by the store on his way over.”

  “You’re pretty good friends, huh? You and Charlie and Seth?”

  “We get along famously,” said Jack. “He comes over every Tuesday and we usually get together on weekends, too. On Tuesdays, we have a little pot luck dinner and then usually either watch a movie or play a board game.”

  “Where does Seth live?”

  “Over by the campus, in a cottage.”

  “Speaking of cottages, that reminds me. Who lives in the cottage down by the pond?”

  “Oh, the old caretaker’s cottage, you mean?”

  “Is that what it is? I saw a red truck there—”

  Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

  “Ooh, Rosie, can you get that?” said Jack, who was just sliding the potatoes into the hot oven.

  “Sure,” said Rosemary, and she hurried to the door and opened it to find Seth juggling grocery bags and a tin foil-covered dish.

  “Let me help,” Rosemary offered, taking the bags out of Seth’s hands.

  “Thank you,” he smiled. “I wasn’t sure what your cat would need, so I got a little of everything.”

  “Jack’s cat, you mean,” said Rosemary.

  “Right,” said Seth, following Rosemary into the kitchen and greeting Jack and Charlie.

  “Although,” Seth continued, “in my experience, cats choose their people. Not the other way around.”

  In the grocery bags, there were small food and water bowls, kitten chow, a dainty green collar with a tiny bell on it, a couple of cat toys, and a small brush, presumably with which to groom the little creature.

  “That’s one lucky cat,” said Rosemary, admiring the haul and filling the bowl with Kitten Crunchies, which caused the cat to come running.

  “Wow, she’s a beauty,” said Seth. He bent down next to the kitten, who glanced at him and then went right back to eating. “I remember you, from the meadow this morning. You look just like Hortence’s cat.”

  “Thank you!” said Rosemary.

  “What are you going to name her?”

  All eyes turned to Rosemary.

  She shifted from foot to foot, and finally gave a long sigh.

  “Fine. I give. I’ll name her Smudge,” she said.

  “Smudge?” said Jack. “I like it.”

  “It suits her,” said Charlie, who was just picking up the marinated fish and heading out to the grill.

  Rosemary filled the kitty water bowl and set it down beside the food. Smudge looked up at her and blinked. Rosemary thought she almost looked like she was smiling. Maybe she liked her new name.

  “You planned it this way, didn’t you?” asked Rosemary, reaching a tentative finger out to touch the kitten’s head. “I guess you’re here to stay.”

  The marinated, grilled fish was delicious, the potatoes were rich and crisp and buttery, the salad was refreshing and tasted like fall, with toasted nuts, sliced pear, and dried cranberries on top.

  Seth had brought vanilla bean ice cream and a pan of brownies, which were warming in the oven, and Jack and Rosemary got out the coffee things while Charlie ground the aromatic beans. Soon, the smells of coffee and chocolate mingled, and Rosemary took a deep breath and smiled.

  “Heaven,” she sighed.

  “Let’s go sit by the fire. We can set up the card table for our board game,” said Jack.

  They gathered around and sipped coffee and enjoyed warm brownies topped with melting ice cream as they talked about the day and Charlie set out the pieces to play Clue.

  “It’s especially tragic that the mayor died when he’d just gotten engaged,” said Seth.

  “Get out of town!” said Charlie. “I didn’t know he was engaged.”

  “Neither did I,” said Jack, surprised. “He was definitely the most eligible bachelor in Paperwick.”

  “In all of Connecticut,” added Charlie.

  “Hey!” said Seth.

  “Present company excluded, of course,” said Jack quickly.

  “Apparently, he’d been dating this woman for some time, but she’s not from Paperwick. They met back in school. Reconnected and started dating a few years ago. It’s been a long-distance thing. He’d go visit her periodically. But he invited her to town a couple days ago, and finally popped the question. He’d just announced it this morning down at City Hall.”

  “The pretty blond woman from the café,” said Charlie. “I bet that’s the fiancé!”

  Rosemary and Jack both agreed, remembering the woman with the shiny hair and fetching outfit.

  “He didn’t act engaged,” said Rosemary. “I mean, he was a big flirt. Or I guess it’s possible that was just his personality.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Seth. “When I got to the cemetery this morning and walked up on you two, I thought he looked smitten.”

  He shifted in his chair a little. Charlie and Jack said nothing, but both turned to look at Rosemary, and she instantly felt her cheeks getting warm.

  “Well, then there you have it,” she said, feeling self-conscious. “That’s unusual behavior for a man who’s just gotten engaged, don’t you think? By the way, I wasn’t interested—though I might’ve been flattered. And I don’t know that he was smitten,” she eyed Seth, “but he was overly friendly. I’m a little out of touch, but I know when someone is coming on. I assure you, Samuel Wright was not my type. A little too charming for me. And if I was his brand-new fiancée, I don’t think I’d be comfortable with that kind of behavior.”

  All three men nodded in agreement, and Rosemary might have been imagining it, but she thought Seth breathed a little sigh of relief.

  “I had a very interesting conversation with Ingrid Clark today,” Rosemary told Seth.

  “She talked to you?” he answered, surprised.

  “Right after you left to go to class, I saw her wandering around
in the trees.”

  “Watching the mayor,” Jack reminded her.

  “Yes, okay. She was watching the mayor and Mr. Thatcher. She’s very protective of the meadow, and she’s furious that they want to develop it.”

  “Exactly what you and I were talking about earlier, too,” said Seth.

  “Yep. I can understand why she’s upset. She feels like the mayor and his supporters want to capitalize on her family’s story.”

  “And it’s not like Hortence Clark Gallow invented the cotton gin or was a famous author,” said Seth. “She was wrongly accused of witchcraft.”

  “I think if presented the right way, Hortence’s story could be a wonderful lesson in history and would inspire admiration because she was, for all intents and purposes, an early American medic,” said Rosemary. “I’m going to read through Mercy’s medical records tonight and try to learn more about the sisters’ work here. If there’s a story worth telling, it’s that one.”

  “I agree,” said Jack. “It’s all in the presentation. On the one hand, you have a statue of a cartoon witch, holding a broom. On the other, you have a dignified portrait of a misunderstood woman and a snapshot of history that shouldn’t be forgotten.”

  “We really ought to write our book,” Rosemary said, looking at Jack.

  “Let’s do it,” said Jack with a nod. “But only if you promise not to go on a yearlong tour with it. I want you settled.”

  Rosemary laughed. “I’m feeling pretty settled tonight, even in the wake of this crazy day.” She picked up the tiny lead pipe from the Clue game. “But I sure would like to know who killed Samuel Wright.”

  17

  After three games of Clue—all of which Seth won—and an hour-long fireside chat, Jack yawned and stretched and declared it bedtime. Rosemary agreed, because she wanted to dig into Mercy’s journal as soon as she was snuggled up in bed.

  Charlie took Izzy and Smudge outside for a potty break, and then came back in, pulling the back door closed against a strong wind, which could be heard whistling through the trees.

  “That time of year,” said Charlie, locking the door. “Looks like another little storm is blowing in. Before you know it, we’ll be in for our first dusting of snow.”

  “I just love it when he talks weather,” said Jack, winking at Rosemary and Seth. “Well, I’m going to hit the sack, and Charlie, didn’t you say you still had a few chapters to write tonight?”

  “Nope. All caught up,” said Charlie, rejoining Rosemary and Seth on the couch.

  “Well, then.” Jack looked at Charlie with insistent eyes. “I need some help in the bathroom, with that broken, um, cabinet . . . hinge.”

  “What? Oh! Right. I’d forgotten about that,” said Charlie, finally getting the not-so-subtle signal that Jack, matchmaker that he was, wanted to give Rosemary and Seth some alone time.

  Of course, this was abundantly apparent to everyone else in the room.

  As soon as Jack and Charlie had disappeared down the hallway, Seth chuckled. “I think they’re trying to tell us something.”

  “That, or they’re just really mad at you for kicking our booties at Clue.” Rosemary laughed.

  In the moment of silence that followed, Seth looked down and smiled to himself. “I should feel uncomfortable right about now, but for some reason, I don’t,” he said.

  “Why would you feel uncomfortable?”

  “Oh, you know. Alone with a pretty woman. You probably already figured out I’m not exactly a lady’s man.”

  “Well, that’s one of the things I like about you,” said Rosemary. “And thank you.”

  Seth just smiled and then looked back at the fire, in no big hurry to leave. Rosemary was glad of that, since she was in no big hurry for him to go.

  “I hope you find something of interest in Mercy’s journal tonight. I’ll be looking forward to hearing all about it,” said Seth.

  “Probably stay up way too late again,” said Rosemary. “Want to peruse it with me for a while?”

  “Wish I could,” said Seth with a regretful sidelong glance. “But I have an early class tomorrow. But hey, if you find you have any anthropological questions, don’t hesitate.”

  “Oh, I’ll know who to call,” said Rosemary.

  She turned to face him on the couch. She didn’t know why she did it. And he swiveled to face her, and looked at her as though he was about to say something, but then didn’t.

  “What is it?” she smiled.

  “Oh, it’s nothing really. I just thought—I mean, I just had this thought. Funny. It’s been a long time.”

  “A long time since . . .” Their voices kept getting lower and lower, and now Rosemary was almost whispering.

  “Since I’ve wanted to kiss someone,” he answered, and they slowly leaned closer to one another, closing the little bit of space between them.

  The moment their lips touched, Rosemary felt enveloped in warmth. Warmth from the fire, from the coziness of this room and the candles flickering with the wind whistling outside, and from the smell of this wonderful man—a mixture of the pine trees that grew all around and the books he loved and the brownies he’d made himself. And maybe just a hint of chalk dust.

  She nudged a little closer, vaguely surprised at her own readiness to move deeper into the kiss, when there was a sudden clatter from the hallway, followed by whispers.

  “Oh, my gosh,” said Seth.

  “Jack!” called Rosemary. “Tell me you two are not spying on us!”

  Quick footsteps scuttled down the hallway and a door softly closed.

  “Can you believe them?” said Rosemary.

  Seth shook his head and laughed. “I think I can hear giggling. They’re quite a pair,” he said.

  “They’re stealthy,” agreed Rosemary. “They meddle.”

  “And they spy,” said Seth, nodding. He looked back at Rosemary. “But it’s late. I’d better get going anyway.”

  They both stood.

  “Hold on. Let me get your jacket,” said Rosemary, turning to make a quick run to her room.

  Seth grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him, enfolded her in his arms. “Keep it a while longer. Maybe it’ll smell as nice as you when I get it back.”

  “How about I bring it to you tomorrow? I could swing by the university.”

  “I’d like that,” he answered. “Jack and I always have lunch on campus on Wednesdays because we only have half an hour between classes. Would you come?”

  Rosemary pulled out of his arms just a little bit, so she could see his eyes. “Love to,” she said, smiling.

  Seth kissed her cheek. “Nice dimple right there,” he said.

  “See you tomorrow,” said Rosemary.

  “I’ll be looking forward to it,” said Seth, and he stepped out into the blustery night.

  Rosemary closed the door behind him, smiling dreamily before walking back to the couch. “You can come out now,” she called in the general direction of the bedrooms.

  There was no sound for a moment, but then Jack and Charlie slowly peeped out, looking as innocent as they could pretend to be.

  “How’s your bathroom cabinet handle?” Rosemary asked flatly.

  “Good,” Charlie answered quickly. “It’s really good.”

  “Sorry about that, earlier. We were just on our way to the kitchen,” said Jack. “And then there you were, in a passionate embrace with Dr. McGuire. We tried to sneak away without disturbing you.”

  “Right. So, tell me, why were you on your way to the kitchen—both of you? Together?” asked Rosemary.

  There was a pause.

  “I needed to get—” Charlie began, and at the same time, Jack was saying, “I was going . . . I mean we—”

  “Next time you think of an excuse to leave me alone with a man,” Rosemary interrupted them, “make it at least slightly believable.”

  “I can’t help it! I’m clearly not very good at lying on the fly,” said Jack. “And Charlie here can’t even lie at all.”

&
nbsp; Charlie shrugged and nodded in agreement.

  “Well, it’s a good thing for you that I like Seth, or you’d be in big trouble.” The stern look on Rosemary’s face finally cracked into a big smile.

  “So . . . you like Seth?” asked Jack, a gleam in his eye.

  “Wait,” said Charlie. “Do you like him? Or do you like him-like him?”

  They plopped down on either side of her on the couch.

  “Both,” said Rosemary. “Man, this has been one heck of a day.”

  “How was the kiss?” asked Jack, unable to subdue the hint of giddiness in his voice.

  “None of your beeswax!” said Rosemary, swatting him in the arm.

  She paused, and a slow grin spread across her face. “It was good,” she said. “Really good.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jack said to Charlie across Rosemary. “I’ll get all the juicy details out of her tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to crawl into bed and read,” said Rosemary, heaving herself up off the couch. “See you both tomorrow.”

  Jack and Charlie stood as well, and they all walked toward the bedroom hall.

  “And guys?” said Rosemary, opening her door. “Thanks. I love you both.”

  “We love you, too,” said Charlie, and they hugged her and said goodnight.

  While Rosemary was brushing her teeth, she caught a glimpse of Smudge nosing open the door and soundlessly hopping up onto the bed. Rosemary closed the bathroom door except for one small crack and watched as the little creature chose one of the fluffy pillows, stepped up onto it, and proceeded to pad it with her paws, then walk in tiny circles and settle down into a tight, purring ball. She opened one eye when Rosemary finally approached the bed, and then closed it again.

  “Are you pretending to be asleep? Because I know that trick,” she said. “Okay, listen. If you’re anything like those Lady and the Tramp cats, this isn’t going to work out. I don’t have any milk. And if you’re thinking of smothering me in my sleep, well then, you’re out of here. So, the only way this thing between us is going to fly is if you stay on your pillow and don’t touch me or freak me out in any way during the night. Okay?”