“Make that two hundred miles, and I’ll prepare a fry up for your breakfast.”
Hugh placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Two hundred, it is.” He took her hand. “Remember, the first whiff of personal danger, you’re no longer involved.”
“Of course.” But mentally she wasn’t so sure. After all, every inquiry had an element of risk. She worked at staying focused as she did her morning prayers from the Northumbrian Community’s Celtic Daily Prayer. Even the reading of the scripture portion required her full attention. The anticipation of putting to work her God-given abilities to smell out undiscovered truth gave rise to a certain excitement. Still, she did her morning exercise routine with resolve, then groomed and dressed in her most comfortable skirt and a salmon-colored blouse.
Quickly, she gulped down tea and toast while cooking a fry up for Hugh: eggs, black pudding, sausage, and bacon rashers from the Carlisle Cathcart Farm mobile butchers, mushrooms, tomatoes, and buttered toast.
With a quick peck on Hugh’s cheek, she left him heartily enjoying his breakfast and the beginning of his day off, if, indeed, vicars ever really had one.
When she arrived at Swallow Gate, Lillie’s three-story Georgian home, the woman herself was standing at the door. And she looked quite smart in her sky-blue frock with sparkling embroidery at the neckline.
A late model car was parked in the gracious drive. “You’ve company?” Berdie greeted Lillie when she got into the car, and nodded toward the BMW.
“No. I have a new three month let for the garret flat.”
Lillie had designed the third floor into a comfortable and attractive living space complete with its own entrance at the back of the house. The flat contained a galley kitchen, cozy sitting room, and a bedroom with en suite bathroom that looked out onto the spacious back garden. Though it was not a problem to let, it had been recently empty.
“So you found someone?”
“They found me. Mr. Broadhouse. Very courteous, very quiet when he’s in.”
“The best sort for a let.”
“He said the garret suited him. His wife and family are in Leeds, and he’ll be visiting them often. He has extended business in Timsley.”
“By the look of it,” Berdie nodded toward the car again, “a rather prosperous business.”
“Not short a bob or two.” Lillie grinned and fastened her seatbelt. “Consulting, I believe he said, in engineering, if my memory serves me.” Lillie paused a moment. “Still, it must be difficult to be away from family, all you hold dear.”
“Yes, indeed.” Berdie knew much about that as a former military wife, and now with her children abroad.
“Speaking of all you hold dear, any sparkling conversation with Loren last night?” Berdie shot a glance at Lillie.
“We said good night at my door. Is that sparkling enough?” Lillie was not having this conversation. “I should think concern for Mrs. Mikalos is first priority.” Lillie’s words had snap.
But Lillie was right. Move on. Quickly, they were on the road.
“This is exhilarating.” Lillie’s voice danced. “There’s such a sense of adventure in doing investigation work.”
“It certainly can be when things are askew and you’re the one who gets to set them in order, but it’s primarily grinding and sometimes boring work.”
“All I do is instruct music.” The dance in Lillie’s voice sat down.
“You’re a fine teacher.”
“And you are a marvelous crime solver as well as a positive role model for the church.”
“By God’s grace, on good days I’m a positive one,” Berdie corrected.
“Hugh cares for an entire parish. Even Loren’s job is crucial to the well-being of an entire city.”
Berdie tipped her head. “OK, Lillie. Where are you going with this?”
“Well, no one can say life won’t go on if there’s no voice instruction, can they?”
Berdie glanced at her dearest friend who now looked out the car window. It was Monday, after all.
“Lillie, music is woven into the very fabric of our culture, our lives. Where would we be without Albert Hall?”
Lillie sighed.
“And your work at the church, the choir is an incredibly vital part of worship and community life. How could we survive without it? There’s just no one on earth who can do it as well as you.” Berdie peeked again at Lillie, who had a slight smirk.
“OK, Berdie. Now you’ve over-egged the pudding.”
“Look. It’s the day after a very grand event into which you poured your heart. I should expect some let down.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I find it rare when I’m not.”
Now Lillie started to laugh. “So is today a positive role model day?”
Berdie chuckled. “We’ve work to do.”
Lillie stared out the window then turned to Berdie. “What about Harriett Norman?”
“Oh, my word, I almost forgot about her.” Berdie’s mind quickly reviewed the woman’s plea for help in locating her sister, if indeed, she had one. “No, Lillie, we can only pick fruit from one tree at a time, and we are in Mrs. Mikalos’ orchard, which happens to be adjoined to our own back garden, so to speak. I’m afraid Harriet, whatever her situation, will have to wait.”
“So what fruit will we pick today?” Lillie’s perk was back.
“We’ll interview neighbors, starting with the twitchy curtains opposite Mrs. Mikalos’s home.”
“Every road has a nosy citizen.”
“Indeed, my dear Watson. Who called the fire brigade? Nosy neighbors can often times be an actual treasure trove of useless information that turns out to play a vital role.”
“Well Sherlock, let’s hope we discover a gem or two this morning.”
“Can you ring Linden and ask if he knows Miss Curtain’s number? And if so, could he ring her to make her aware we’re coming?”
It seemed only a skip and jump in time before they arrived at the lovely home across the road from the Mikalos residence.
“Mrs. Billie Finch,” Lillie said as they moved along the flagstone walk flanked with delicate pink cow parsley. The verdant garden was well kept and invited an extended look around.
As Berdie took it all in, the front door opened.
“My husband’s the gardener,” the smiling Mrs. Billie Finch said. “The back garden is even prettier. Please come in. I have a pot of tea brewing.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Finch. I’m Berdie Elliott, and this is Lillie Foxworth.”
“Please, call me Billie.”
Mrs. Finch had hair that was more blonde than brown and it curled under just above her shoulders. It haloed her pleasant face which was graced with the lightest brown eyes and highlighted with blushed cheeks and rosy lipstick. She quickly led the way to the drawing room just off the hall. “My husband spends most of the week in London. But when he’s home, he’s pottering in his garden.”
“It’s lovely,” Lillie offered.
The room was a bit stuffy for Berdie’s tastes, but Mrs. Finch brought warmth to it nonetheless. The hostess waved her hand toward the white sofa. “Please, sit down.” She indicated the chairs on either side of a gleaming tea service on the coffee table.
“Milk and sugar?”
“Yes, please.” Berdie responded.
“Just milk.” Lillie nodded courteously.
“It’s nice to have guests for tea.” Mrs. Finch sat in an overstuffed chair that matched the sofa and poured dark liquid into cups sitting properly on saucers wearing painted spring blooms. “Our Caroline’s gone off to St. Monica’s this year. The house used to bustle with her friends.”
“Yes, I understand. My Clare and Nick both live abroad now.”
“They grow up, more’s the pity.” Mrs. Finch handed full cups to Berdie and Lillie.
“Did Linden tell you why we’re here?” Berdie was even toned.
“Not entirely.” Billie took a sip of tea.
Berdie shot a gla
nce at Lillie who raised her brows.
“How well do you know Mrs. Mikalos?”
“Mrs. Mikalos? She keeps to herself for the most part. We sometimes chat in passing as neighbors do. It’s not much more than that.” She stirred the liquid in her cup. “I invite her every year to my holiday lunch the week of Christmas, but it hasn’t been but the last two years, since her husband died, that she has come.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” Berdie brought the tea cup to her lips.
“Yesterday morning. Her son-in-law came in a rather scruffy people carrier to fetch her. She seemed, I don’t know, irritated.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“No.”
“But you have a good view from your sitting room window.”
The woman pulled back a bit. She paused and looked at the floor. “I keep my windows quite clean, yes.”
Lillie was mid-sip of her tea but Berdie could see the grin that played the edges of her mouth.
“We think Mrs. Mikalos may have gone missing,” Berdie said with gentle firmness.
Billie’s eyes enlarged and tea caught in her throat sending her into a coughing frenzy. She bent forward and brought her hand to her mouth, plopping her tea cup on the tray. “I knew it,” she croaked, “and I should think so, too.” Her face flushed. “I should have called the police.”
Berdie sat her tea down. “What are you talking about, Mrs…Billie?”
“Saturday night.” She jumped to her feet. “Sir Percival-wretched-Barlow, indeed.”
Lillie just gazed at the woman, taken aback. But Berdie stood and came to Mrs. Finch’s side.
Billie pointed her finger in the direction of the front road. “Didn’t I see him threaten Olivia?”
“Threaten, how?”
Billie shook her head. “It was dusk, and I was reading in the sitting room. My husband had to stay in London this weekend.” She swallowed and a light mist formed in her eyes.
“Go on,” Berdie urged.
“Well, it was a lovely night, and I had my window open. I heard this horrible shouting out in the road, something about property, accusations of stealing ancestral rights.” She sniffed. “I went to the window and saw Olivia and our neighbor, Sir Percival Barlow. I don’t know what it was all about, but it was a horrible dust up.”
“Billie, why don’t you sit?”
Mrs. Finch nodded and returned to the chair.
Berdie bent next to her and placed her hand on her arm. “I realize this may be difficult, but please try to recall as much as possible.”
“Sir Percival grabbed Olivia by the arm.”
Lillie pulled a tissue from her bag and gave it to Mrs. Finch.
“Thank you,” she acknowledged and put it to her nose. “He called her horrible names and shouted that one way or another, he would get what he wanted and she would regret the day she didn’t listen to him.”
“And then?”
“Well, then a car turned onto the road and he pulled away and let go of her arm. He marched back to his property and she to hers.”
“You’re sure that’s all that happened?”
“That’s all I saw. And I’ve not seen Sir Percival since.” Droplets spilled from Billie’s eyes. “I was alone and frightened. I had no idea it could lead to…poor Olivia.”
Berdie stood and put her hand on Billie’s shoulder. “We don’t yet know for certain that she’s in harm’s way, and there’s no hard evidence that Sir Percival has anything to do with it.”
Billie just nodded her head.
“What you’ve given us is extremely helpful, and we know you wish the best for Mrs. Mikalos. At this point it would seem prayer on her behalf is something we can all do to help.” Berdie nodded toward Lillie, who rose.
“We need to make more enquiries, Billie. And please call the vicarage at St. Aidan of the Woods Church if you see anything at all out of the ordinary around Mrs. Mikalos’s home or if something else comes to mind that you think may be helpful. Now, are you going to be all right?”
“Yes, yes.” Billie stood. “I’m sorry for carrying on. It’s just such a shock that Olivia could be in danger.”
“Thank you for your concern. Oh, yes, Billie, did you by chance call the fire brigade last night?”
The woman wiped her nose again. “No, why would I do that?”
“Just wondered,” Berdie said. “We can see ourselves out.”
“I won’t hear of it. It’s the least I can do.”
Billie led Berdie and Lillie to her door and outside.
Two loud booms, gunshots, broke the morning breeze.
Lillie fired a glance at Berdie. “Is that what I think it is?”
“He’s at it again.” Mrs. Finch took a quick breath.
“He?” Berdie asked.
“Sir Percival. He’s an avid sportsman, a bit too attached to his guns for my liking.”
“What’s he shooting?” Lillie was approaching breathlessness.
As if Sir Percival heard her question, a large black creature smacked the ground just inside Olivia Mikalos’s garden.
“Oh, my heavens.” Berdie eyed the fallen prey.
Black feathers floated down in a divine eulogy.
“We’ve been having problems with kytes,” Mrs. Finch informed, “and it seems he’s waging war with them.”
“They can be bullies when it comes to the avian world, but I see no need for this.” Berdie scanned the horizon.
A man emerged from the adjoining garden to Mrs. Mikalos’s. The areas were separated by a tall fence that ran the length of the two neighboring properties.
“There he is,” Billie uttered and stepped back inside the door. “Perhaps you should come in the house.”
“I need to speak to him.” Berdie thrust her chin forward.
“Did I get it?” Sir Percival Barlow yelled when he saw the women. His voice was much larger than his slender frame. His dark hair outlined a face that would have been rather handsome if he hadn’t such a scowl. A disengaged shotgun hung in the crook of his arm. This, along with forceful footsteps, announced he was not one to be fooled with.
“You did, sir.” Berdie nodded to the spot where the bird dropped.
“Blasted creatures.”
“Are we really going to talk to him?” Lillie squeaked as they started cross the road. “I mean is it really our place?”
“Lillie, go to the car if you like.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound.”
“Shoulders back. Walk with confidence.” Berdie took fearsome strides.
Lillie was just slightly behind as they approached the man.
“Quite a shot, I should think,” Berdie offered the fellow.
“Some say.” He ran his gaze over Berdie and Lillie. “You’re not from round here.”
“Aidan Kirkwood,” Berdie delivered with punch.
“And you’re certainly not interested in my sporting skills. So what do you want?”
“We’re friends of Olivia Mikalos.” Berdie could feel Lillie grab her coat from behind. “Have you seen her recently?”
Sir Percival cocked his chin. “It takes a stupid cow to know a stupid cow.”
Lillie’s slender fingers went into a fist.
Berdie felt a flush rise along with her resolve. “No need to be rude, Sir Percival.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, and I’ll be as rude as I please.”
Berdie took a step backward, but went forward with another question. “Were you in Aidan Kirkwood yesterday?”
“No,” he railed, “for what business it is of yours.” His anger was in full throttle as he waved the disengaged barrel of the shotgun toward the road. “Now, clear off.”
Berdie held back the verbal barrage she wanted to unleash on the boorish fellow, armed or not. Instead, she lifted her chin, and carefully backed up an additional few steps. She turned toward the car and walked in military strides of which she knew Hugh would have been proud.
Lillie was now beside her
. “Horrible man,” she whispered to Berdie.
When they reached the car, Berdie tried to calm herself. She got in the car but didn’t shut the door. She noticed an insignia on the man’s coat, Seabrook Marina.
When Lillie was safely seated inside, Berdie called to Sir Percival. “Next time, I suggest you shoot something that’s not illegal.” She slammed the door cutting off the sound of verbal abuse being heaped upon her.
“Really.” Lillie’s tone could have scorched wood.
Berdie glanced toward Billie’s home and noticed the door was shut, and no doubt, locked tightly.
In seconds, Berdie was clear of the area.
“I’d say we deserve a good, strong cuppa and some of Villette’s fresh scones,” Lillie piped. “It feels as if we’ve put in a day’s work and it’s only elevensies.”
Berdie nodded. “Copper Kettle, here we come. We’ve done only a bit of digging and look at what’s already come up with the shovel.”
5
Berdie crossed her arms as she and Lillie squeezed in with others standing outside awaiting a table at the Copper Kettle.
“It never used to be like this,” Lillie huffed. “Even when she only had four tables it wasn’t like this and on a week day, as well.”
Two people entered, and Berdie advanced in the queue.
Lillie leaned near Berdie’s ear. “Aidan Kirkwood grew by bounds when they put in the new-builds four years ago. The blow-ins arrived, and we’ve yet to be the same.”
“To be fair, Lillie, it has brought an economic boost to the place. How many of your voice students are blow-ins?”
Lillie parted her lips as if to give a sharp response, but then stopped. “Point taken.” Lillie’s tone was much less pretentious.
“Hello, Mrs. Elliott, Lillie.” Cara Donovan was in mid-stride in the road. The young woman’s long, blonde hair fell across her shoulder in a single braid. Though Jamie’s wife, and the mother of toddling Katy, her lovely figure and gracious facial features hadn’t faded.
“Join us for tea?” Berdie invited.
Into the Clouds Page 6
