by H. Y. Hanna
Poppy leaned back, wrinkling her nose. “Yeah… it smells remarkably realistic too.”
Bertie beamed and picked up a small atomiser from the counter. “Yes, that was the final touch! I invented a top-up spray which an agent can use to refresh the turds from time to time. It is a carefully balanced mix of volatile sulphur compounds, to create an authentic ‘poo’ smell. Would you like a sample?”
“NO! No, thanks,” said Poppy, taking a hasty step back. “Um… shall I help you carry the tea back to the sitting room?”
CHAPTER NINE
Poppy let herself out of Bertie’s house fifteen minutes later and started back home. She had barely gone a few steps, however, when a movement caught her eye, and a second later she saw a familiar scruffy black shape emerge from the undergrowth around the side of the house. It was Einstein. Poppy was pleased to see that the little dog seemed to have stopped moping and come outside. She was about to call him when she noticed that he seemed to be moving in a very purposeful fashion. He made a beeline for a clump of bushes and began scrabbling at the base of it.
He’s digging, she realised, as she saw clods of earth flying through the air. A few minutes later, the little terrier backed out from beneath the bush, his face covered in soil and an enormous marrowbone clamped in his mouth. He gave himself a good shake, then picked up the marrowbone again and trotted towards the gate.
Where on earth is he going? wondered Poppy. She watched with surprise and admiration as Einstein reached the gate, set the bone down temporarily, and jumped up so that he could push the latch with his nose. A moment later, the gate swung open and the terrier trotted through, carrying the bone once more. Poppy stared blankly after him for a few seconds, then rushed to the gate herself and peered out into the lane.
Einstein was disappearing rapidly up the lane, in the direction of the village green. Poppy hovered uncertainly by the gate, wondering if she should alert Bertie. After all, Einstein wasn’t her dog. On the other hand, she had left the old inventor immersed in one of his experiments and by the time she got his attention, explained the situation to him, and got him outside to chase after his dog, Einstein would probably be gone from sight.
Deciding to go after the terrier herself, she stepped out and hurried up the lane. When she reached the corner where it joined the larger street which led to the village green, however, she was surprised to see no sign of Einstein in that direction. Where had he gone? How could he have disappeared so quickly?
She turned and looked down the street in the opposite direction. She was just in time to see a little black tuft of a tail disappearing around a corner farther down the street. Quickly, she followed and found herself in a meandering lane that wound between various cottages as it led to the outskirts of the village. It opened at last into a narrow country road which encircled a small country estate and Poppy was surprised to realise that this was in fact the grounds of Duxton House, where the fête had been held yesterday. Muriel’s home was much closer to her cottage than she had thought—probably because yesterday, she had entered the estate via the front gate, which was approached from the village green. But the route she had just taken was a shortcut which brought her to the rear of the large property. In fact, she recalled Bertie mentioning that they had used a shortcut to get to the fête, and so Einstein must have simply retraced the route from the day before.
There was a tall hedge around the perimeter of Duxton House estate, but this petered out at the rear where the grounds merged with the nearby woods. The leaves and branches were sparse and straggly there, perhaps because the trees blocked out too much light for the hedge to grow properly. Poppy was just in time to see Einstein burrowing through the hedge, and when she hurried over, she found herself staring at a large gap in the thinning foliage. Through it, she could see Einstein’s scruffy black shape in the distance, trotting purposefully towards the house, the marrowbone protruding from either side of his muzzle.
She debated for a moment what to do. She could make her way around to the front of the estate and go in the main gates, but that would take several minutes and she was worried about what Einstein might get up to in that time. She had a sneaking suspicion of where he was heading: to find Flopsy and woo his new love with a nice smelly marrowbone. She had to catch him before he got into trouble.
Ducking down, she crawled through the gap in the hedge and stood up on the other side. She cast a quick look around, wondering how to explain herself if any of the estate gardeners or other staff saw her, but thankfully the area around her seemed to be empty. She started at a light jog towards the house, but she hadn’t gone several yards when a male voice shouted:
“OY! What are you doing there?”
Poppy froze and looked frantically around. Then she realised that the shout wasn’t directed at her. A man in green overalls—obviously one of the estate gardeners—was shouting and chasing a group of teenage boys near the rear perimeter of the property. They raced towards the hedge and scrambled over, all while laughing and taunting the gardener. For a moment, it looked like the youngest in the group—a boy who couldn’t have been older than twelve—might not make it as he tripped and fell. Then he picked himself up and dived through the gap in the hedge, just before the gardener reached him. More jeers and taunts came from the other side of the hedge as the gardener shook his fist and yelled at the boys.
Poppy hastily took advantage of the diversion to continue on towards the house unseen. She ran past the carefully clipped topiary and perfectly geometric beds alongside the manicured lawns, past the empty stalls and marquee tent which was leftover from the fête, until she arrived at last at the rear of the manor. There, she skulked past the tall shrubs beside the house, slowly circling around it as she searched for any sign of a scruffy black terrier. She was rewarded at last when she came around the south corner and found Einstein outside a set of French doors which led onto the terrace. His little tuft of a tail was wagging madly and he was making excited whining sounds as he stared through the glass door. On the other side of the door, Poppy saw Flopsy the poodle with one dainty paw raised and her head cocked to one side.
Einstein dropped into a play bow and wagged his tail at the poodle. Then he nosed the marrowbone closer to the glass door and looked expectantly at her. Flopsy lowered her head, as if trying to sniff through the glass, and she stared at the bone in fascination.
Then Poppy heard voices. She ducked instinctively before she realised that they were coming from an open window a bit farther along the side of the house. She crept a bit closer and saw that the room Flopsy was in—a sort of antechamber leading out onto the terrace—was connected to a larger room beyond. From the sound of the voices, Muriel Farnsworth was in the bigger room, talking to someone.
“…ohhh… what am I going to do without her?” came Muriel’s loud, tearful voice. “Ursula always took care of everything—she always knew what to do… And Flopsy!” She gasped. “Who is going to look after Flopsy now if something happens to me?”
A man’s voice answered—too low to hear clearly. Poppy hesitated, then crept closer, until she was right underneath the window. There was a large camellia bush growing in a pot beside the window, its bushy branches with glossy, dark green leaves arching out to form a convenient cover on one side. Carefully, Poppy raised herself so that she could look over the windowsill into the room but still be camouflaged by the camellia bush.
She saw Muriel sitting on an overstuffed sofa, in a lavishly furnished drawing room with a formal marble fireplace and oil portraits on the walls. There was a man in the room with her and, as he shifted position and came into view, Poppy saw that it was Kirby the pet nanny. He leaned over Muriel and said:
“I know you’re upset, ma’am, and Ursula’s death is a tragic, tragic loss…” Kirby paused and fumbled with his eye, as if wiping away a tear, then added silkily, “But don’t forget—you have me here with you. I know I’ve only been at Duxton House for a year, but I already see this place as my home and you as my fami
ly… and Flopsy—well, I love her as if she’s my own child!” His voice vibrated with emotion.
“Oh Kirby!” cried Muriel, sniffing into a handkerchief and looking up at him warmly.
“And you know, although Ursula did run the household and take care of many things, she didn’t really spend much time with Flopsy,” he continued smoothly. “I mean, I’m the one who understands Flopsy’s needs and who takes care of her every day. I’m the one who—”
Kirby broke off, an expression of frustration and annoyance crossing his face as a girl stepped into the room. She was not in uniform, but somehow Poppy was sure that she was a member of the household staff, and this was confirmed a moment later when she inclined her head respectfully to Muriel and said:
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but there’s a Detective Sergeant Lee of the South Oxfordshire CID here to see you.”
Yikes! Poppy ducked back down beneath the windowsill as she saw the sergeant being ushered into the room. The last thing she needed was for the police to find her skulking under the window! She started to back away, then stopped as curiosity got the better of her. She could hear Sergeant Lee mention Ursula’s murder and she wondered what was happening with the investigation. Moving as quietly as possible, she raised herself once more so that her eyes were level with the windowsill and she could peer into the room, through the leaves of the camellia bush.
Sergeant Lee was seated next to Muriel, tapping on a slim tablet with exaggerated flourish. Obviously, the traditional pencil and notepad of the classic detective were not good enough for him. He cleared his throat importantly and said:
“This is just a formality, madam, as we are well on the way to closing this case, but I just needed to check a few things… You said that Ursula wasn’t with you when you went to watch the Terrier Racing?”
“Well, Flopsy and I were supposed to present the trophy to the winner, you see, so we went to sit at the trophy table, at the end of the track. I just assumed that Ursula had gone with Mrs Peabody to watch the race. The crowds were very rowdy, you know,” she said, glaring at Sergeant Lee as if it was his fault. “Flopsy is very sensitive to loud noises. They hurt her ears. And then there was that dreadful dog!” She clutched her chest. “A common mongrel, and he had the temerity to sniff Flopsy’s bum! Can you believe it?”
“Er…” The sergeant shifted in his seat, looking like he didn’t quite know how to respond.
“And then the next thing, I heard this awful screaming and I saw that Sonia woman come rushing from the marquee. And then I heard… I heard…” Suddenly, Muriel’s composure deserted her. Her face puckered. “Ursula was dead! I couldn’t believe it! How could she be dead? She was only forty-eight… she always ate so sensibly and was kind to everyone… How can she have been killed? Oh… ohhh… what am I going to do now? What am I going to do?”
Muriel plunged her face into her handkerchief and began to sob loudly, her shoulders shaking. Sergeant Lee looked alarmed and glanced nervously around.
“Perhaps I’d better get her a brandy, sir,” Kirby spoke up, fussing around Muriel.
“Oh… er… yes, go ahead…” said the sergeant, looking very uncomfortable. “And while you’re doing that, can you give me an account of your movements during the fête too?”
The pet nanny paused on his way to the drinks cabinet and stiffened. He turned back to face the sergeant and said loftily, “I was with Mrs Farnsworth all the time. My main duty is to see to Flopsy’s needs, you see, so I’m required to be on standby at all times. Oh, except once when I had to return to the house to fetch some mineral water.”
“Yes, you were gone for ages!” Muriel complained, surfacing from the soggy depths of her handkerchief.
“We were out of Perrier in the kitchen, so I had to go down to the cellar,” said Kirby quickly.
“Hmph. You shouldn’t have had the wrong brand in the first place,” Muriel grumbled.
For a second, Poppy saw a look of irritation flash across Kirby’s face, then it was quickly wiped clean and he said: “Yes, of course, you’re right, ma’am—I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again.”
He returned from the drinks cabinet with a goblet of amber liquid for Muriel, but he had barely handed it to her when they heard high-pitched yapping coming from the next room.
Muriel gasped. “That’s Flopsy! Where is she?” She sprang up and looked around. “Flopsy? Flopsy-pooh… where are you?”
More yapping came from the adjoining antechamber, echoed by a rush of different barking from outside. Poppy jerked around in horror. It was Einstein! The scruffy black terrier was dancing around on his hind legs in front of the French doors, obviously showing off, and on the other side of the glass, Flopsy was scratching the door and barking with excitement.
“Shush, Einstein! Stop that!” Poppy hissed, diving for him.
She managed to grab him and put a hand over his muzzle, silencing him, then hunch down against the base of the wall. She held the terrier’s squirming body tightly against her as she crouched behind a large bush, praying that nobody would think of looking outside. There was a rumble of voices in the antechamber, and someone rattled the handle of the French doors, but, to her relief, no one came out onto the terrace, and a minute later she heard the voices drift back into the drawing room, including Muriel saying loudly:
“Come and sit on Mummy’s lap, Flopsy-pooh… There, there… Nothing to be afraid of… Kirby, shut the windows! Something outside is upsetting poor Flopsy.”
There was a protesting yap from Flopsy and Einstein squirmed harder, but Poppy kept a firm grip on him. She waited until she heard the click of the window closing and the sound of conversation being muted, before she relaxed slightly. The minute her hold loosened, however, Einstein wriggled free and sprang away from her.
“Einstein!” hissed Poppy, lunging after him.
She missed, and he scampered away, disappearing around the side of the house. Bugger! thought Poppy, creeping slowly out from behind the bush. How am I going to find the little monkey now? I need to catch him and get off the property before anyone spots us—
A hand clamped down on her shoulder and a male voice behind her said:
“What are you doing there?”
CHAPTER TEN
Poppy whirled around and found herself looking up at a young man. He was very good-looking, with blond hair that was carefully cut so that it flopped boyishly over his brow, half-covering one of his eyes. His tall frame was carelessly dressed in a designer blazer teamed with tailored shorts, and the tanned length of his calves ended in a pair of expensive Italian loafers. He looked almost like a male model who had just stepped out of a photoshoot for GQ or Esquire magazine—even his teeth, when he smiled at her, were dazzling white.
And yes, he was smiling rather than frowning, Poppy noted quickly. It was a rather quizzical smile but at least it was a friendly expression. She took heart from this and from the fact that he had deliberately kept his voice down, so as not to alert those in the drawing room.
“Er… um… I was… um…” Poppy stammered, then said the first thing that came to mind. “Muriel—I mean, Mrs Farnsworth hired me to work on a garden project. I’ve… um… I’ve come to check out the site where I’ll be planting.”
The stranger grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Underneath the drawing room window?”
Poppy flushed. “No, I… er… was walking past and thought I saw some weeds… I just can’t stand weeds, you know,” she babbled. “You have to get on top of them right away otherwise they spread so quickly… so… um… I thought I’d just yank them out while I saw them.”
The young man leaned sideways to look over her shoulder and raised his eyebrows again. Poppy flushed an even brighter red as she followed his gaze and saw that the area beneath the drawing room window was an extension of the terrace and was beautifully paved, with no chance of a weed or anything else growing there. It was obvious that she was lying—and making a bad job of it too—and she expected the stranger the chall
enge her on this. But to her surprise, he merely grinned again and said with a wink:
“Well, I’m glad to see that Auntie Muriel has hired someone who is so thorough.”
“Muriel is your aunt?”
“Great-aunt, actually. Muriel’s husband was my grandfather’s brother. My parents passed away last year and I don’t have any other family, so I came to live with Muriel at Duxton House. It was quite handy, actually—I was just starting my first year at Oxford, which is only about twenty-minutes’ drive away.” He flashed her another brilliant smile. “Ten, actually, in my Porsche, if the roads are empty and it’s late enough that you can ignore the speed limit…” He held out a hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced. My name’s Henry. Henry Farnsworth. And you are?”
“Poppy Lancaster.” Poppy shook his hand, eyeing him curiously. As far as she knew, most students started university at seventeen or eighteen, but Henry looked to be about her age—somewhere in the mid-twenties. “Did you say you’ve just started at university?”
