by Ann Purser
Praise for
The Measby Murder Enquiry
“A pleasant read, evoking Saint Mary Mead and Miss Marple with its atmosphere of surface calm and hidden demons. It’s a solid book, cleverly plotted and tightly structured, with all the makings of a perennial favorite.”
—Curled Up with a Good Book
The Hangman’s Row Enquiry
“A delightful spin-off.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“Full of wit, venom and bonding between new friends.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Purser’s Ivy Beasley is a truly unique character, a kind of cross between Jessica Fletcher, Miss Marple and Mrs. Slocum from Are You Being Served?—just a delightful, eccentric old darling that readers are sure to embrace. Pair this with Purser’s charming storytelling technique, and you have a fast-paced tale that will keep readers guessing to the very end.”
—Fresh Fiction
Praise for the
Lois Meade Mysteries
“First-class work in the English-village genre: cleverly plotted, with thoroughly believable characters, rising tension and a smashing climax.”
—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Well paced, cleverly plotted and chock-full of cozy glimpses of life in a small English village.”
—Booklist
“Purser’s expertise at portraying village life and Lois’s role as a working-class Miss Marple combine to make this novel—and the entire series—a treat.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“Fans of British ‘cozies’ will enjoy this delightful mystery, with its quaint setting and fascinating players.”
—Library Journal
“A strong plot and believable characters, especially the honest, down-to-earth Lois, are certain to appeal to a wide range of readers.”
—Publishers Weekly
“The characters are fun. The setting is wonderful… Anyone who delights in an English village mystery will have a good time with this book.”
—Gumshoe Review
“[Lois Meade is] an engaging amateur sleuth.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
Titles by Ann Purser
Lois Meade Mysteries
MURDER ON MONDAY
TERROR ON TUESDAY
WEEPING ON WEDNESDAY
THEFT ON THURSDAY
FEAR ON FRIDAY
SECRETS ON SATURDAY
SORROW ON SUNDAY
WARNING AT ONE
TRAGEDY AT TWO
THREATS AT THREE
FOUL PLAY AT FOUR
Ivy Beasley Mysteries
THE HANGMAN’S ROW ENQUIRY
THE MEASBY MURDER ENQUIRY
THE WILD WOOD ENQUIRY
The
Wild Wood
Enquiry
ANN PURSER
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
THE WILD WOOD ENQUIRY
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / May 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Ann Purser.
Cover illustration by Griesbach/Martucci.
Cover design by George Long.
Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-1-101-58079-0
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
ALWAYS LEARNING
PEARSON
For Philippa and her little boys.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
Forty-six
Forty-seven
Forty-eight
Forty-nine
Fifty
Fifty-one
Fifty-two
Fifty-three
Fifty-four
One
“FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE, scram!”
Ivy Beasley pulled the duvet over her head and vowed that she would not rise from her bed until the cleaners had finished the corridors of her residential home. They had been outside her door for hours, filling the morning with loud vibrations, which she could feel all the way down to her toes. “They do it on purpose,” she muttered
. “We’ve got the cleanest carpets in Barrington!”
Katya, the Polish care assistant, would be knocking at her door any time now with morning tea and plain digestive biscuits. Only then would she sit up, take deep draughts of hot tea, and dial her fiancé on an extension number to wish him a fond good morning.
Ivy Beasley was in her seventies or early eighties—she varied the number according to who was listening—and her fiancé, Roy Goodman, was roughly the same age. Both lived in Springfields Luxury Retirement Home, in the Suffolk village of Barrington, where they had met, fallen in love, and become engaged. Grumblings from the home’s manager, Mrs. Spurling, about having enough trouble without romance rearing its ugly head, were countered by her assistant, Miss Pinkney. She considered Ivy’s love affair with Roy the most lovely thing she had experienced in half a lifetime of caring for old people.
The engagement was not the only Beasley thorn in Mrs. Spurling’s flesh. Ivy had arrived at the home from Round Ringford, a village in the Midlands, full of complaints and requests for special privileges, and then to everyone’s astonishment, she had set up a private enquiry agency with a mysterious and, thought some, decidedly suspect character, Augustus Halfhide.
The third and fourth members of Enquire Within were Roy and Ivy’s cousin, Deirdre Bloxham, much younger, rich and flighty, who lived in a large house not far from Springfields. It had been Deirdre who persuaded Ivy to move, and at first she was quite sure she had made a grave mistake. Ivy was a pain and a pest. But then, as she grew to appreciate the old lady’s courage and persistence, she realised that her own life since she was widowed some years ago, which had been filled with good works and hairdressers’ appointments, was now much improved.
“GOOD MORNING, MY love! How are you? Well, I trust?” Roy had been awake for some time, thinking about how his life had changed since Ivy arrived at Springfields. He had been coasting to a dismal end, and now he greeted each day with enthusiasm.
“Fighting fit, thanks,” said Ivy. “Ready for breakfast?” She had already had two cups of Katya’s tea and cleared the plate of biscuits but was looking forward to a smoked kipper with lots of white bread and butter, real butter. Mrs. Spurling had advised wholemeal bread and Bertolli healthy spread, but Ivy had replied tartly that at her great age it wouldn’t matter much, would it?
“So, down to business,” said Roy when breakfast was finished and they were enjoying a final coffee. “It’s time we took on another case, don’t you agree? Our Gus is looking gloomy, and Deirdre says she is spending far too much time gardening, instead of leaving it to the man who comes in regularly and, without asking, uproots all her hard work.”
“You mean we should advertise? I thought we had agreed that publicity would draw too much attention to ourselves. Experience working on cases has shown us that keeping our heads down is good practice. As my old mother used to say, ‘If you keep your head down you won’t get shot.’ ”
Roy laughed. “No, I’ve had a request from James at the village shop,” he said. “He’s lost his old tortoiseshell cat. I think it’s a she. He was apologetic about asking but says she means a lot to him, and he can’t bear to think of her caught in a trap in the woods or shut in somebody’s outhouse to starve to death.”
“Surely nobody would do that.” Ivy’s own cat, Tiddles, had been a birthday present from Roy and was a much-pampered animal.
“James seemed to think it possible, and he’s had no replies to the notice he put up in the shop. What d’you think, Ivy? Dare we ask the others to take on a missing cat?”
“Not sure. After murder and embezzlement, they might think it a bit tame. If you ask me, we should do it together, just you and me.”
“Mm. Not a good precedent, surely. We are a team, after all. It has worked very well in the past. Deirdre and Gus might not approve of a splinter group taking on a case without consultation, do you think?”
Ivy did not answer, and at that moment, Deirdre Bloxham, mistress of Tawny Wings and funding member of Enquire Within, stalked across the dining room to where they sat. She sat down heavily and thumped one hand on the table, causing cutlery and crockery to shiver and jump.
“Deirdre! What on earth’s the matter with you?” Ivy rescued a fork from her lap and glared at her cousin.
“I’ve had enough!” Deirdre answered. “He’s moved them, without so much as a by-your-leave!”
“Moved what, my dear?” said Roy soothingly.
“Six forsythia bushes, just little ones. I planted them on Sunday afternoon! There’s a gap in the hedge at the front of the house, and I thought it would look so cheerful, all golden yellow, in the spring. And he’s taken ’em out and, what is more, started a bonfire and chucked them on top!” She looked first at Ivy and then Roy, and burst into tears.
“Now, now, Deirdre. Pull yourself together, girl, do. You’ve got things all out of proportion. Roy, ask Katya to bring some fresh coffee. And just stop it, Deirdre, you’re making an exhibition of yourself.”
With a cup of strong black coffee, and more admonishment from Ivy, Deirdre became calmer and more like her normal, even-tempered self. “Sorry about that,” she said. “I guess I haven’t got anything more important to think about.”
“Then you came to just the right place,” said Roy. “Ivy and I were discussing a possible new case for Enquire Within.”
“That’s right,” said Ivy. “Now, Deirdre, here’s what we’re going to do.”
Two
“BEST COME UP to my room, and we can discuss matters,” said Ivy. “We should get Gus along, too, so perhaps you could give him a ring, Deirdre? And for heaven’s sake, wipe your nose. Spoils your merry widow image.”
In spite of herself, Deirdre laughed, and they proceeded out of the dining room where they were met by an irritated Mrs. Spurling.
“I have offered Mr. Halfhide coffee and said he would be welcome to join you in the lounge with other residents,” she said. “But he claims he is doing research into foreign workers in this country and needs to talk to Katya and Anya in the kitchen. I shall be glad if you would have a word with him, Mr. Goodman. I really can’t have these irregularities.”
Deirdre winked at Roy and said they had all heard about Mr. Halfhide’s research methods. “Much better if we all decamp to Tawny Wings,” she added. “Stay to lunch, all of you.”
This sent Mrs. Spurling into another paroxysm of irritation, as she said all missed meals had to be booked the previous day. How could she be expected to run an efficient home if certain residents who should be nameless were constantly disobeying the rules?
Roy smiled winningly at her and promised they would try to remember in future. He went off to the kitchen to find Gus, and Ivy looked speculatively at Mrs. Spurling.
“If you had lost a cat,” she said, “where would you look first?”
“I wouldn’t look,” said Mrs. Spurling acidly. Last year, when Ivy had had a birthday celebration, the sorely tried manager had, against her better judgement, allowed Roy to buy a kitten for his beloved. He had said Ivy had always owned a cat in Round Ringford and missed the companionship here in Springfield. In a moment of weakness, Mrs. Spurling had agreed, and now it turned up all over the home, tripping up the elderly residents and prowling about in the kitchen looking for scraps.
“Just checking,” said Ivy. “I need to be prepared.”
When Roy and Gus appeared, looking sheepish, Ivy suggested they start straightaway for Tawny Wings.
“A new assignment?” Gus said eagerly.
Ivy looked at Roy. “You could say that. But let’s listen to what Roy has to offer.”
After a short interval, when Roy’s motorised trundle, as he called it, was brought round to the front door, the three were on their way through the village, en route for Tawny Wings, the eccentrically V-shaped house where Deirdre and her late husband had lived ever since he had made a fortune with a string of car salerooms in nearby Oakbridge and around the county.
“Let’s have lunch first,�
�� Deirdre said, “and then we can go up to the office and have a proper meeting. Is there a lot to discuss?”
Ivy said nothing. Gus had been given a quick rundown by Roy whilst waiting for the trundle and now said, “Could well be a complicated operation,” but added that the details would keep until they had all eaten the delightful salad that Deirdre had prepared.
“Rabbit food,” Ivy announced, and although Deirdre heard and bridled, she soon regained her good humour at the thought of the four of them working together again.
Three
WITH VERY BAD grace, Deirdre had finally agreed to help in the search for Posy Moon—“Ridiculous name!” she had said huffily—and the atmosphere at Tawny Wings was distinctly cool as the others set off to return to Springfields.
“It’s not as if we have anything else to do at the moment,” Roy said defensively.
“Best thing to do in this weather,” said Ivy, taking off her cardigan and putting it safely on Roy’s lap, “is to stay in the shade and get on with our knitting.”
“I don’t knit,” Roy said.
Ivy looked at him, neatly dressed in lightweight jacket and panama straw hat, gallantly driving his trundle over the bumps and hollows of the path back to Springfields. She reflected that she, and most others there, forgot that Roy had been an active and successful farmer locally and did not appreciate how hard it must be for him now, when every day farm vehicles roared past, the young drivers waving gaily. She patted his shoulder and said that he was quite right. It was the least they could do for James at the shop.
“We’ll probably find the cat quickly,” she said comfortingly, “or else it’ll come back on its own. Cats do, you know. Then we can settle down until autumn, when the cool weather comes. That’ll be the best time to do some more enquiring. Something’s bound to come up.”
Gus was following behind them, walking slowly and thinking hard. He did not agree with Ivy and thought much the best thing for all of them would be to tackle a really juicy enquiry as soon as possible. He was sure it was only too easy to vegetate in homes like Springfields. In no time Ivy and Roy would join the ranks of oldies sitting in comfy armchairs, the telly blaring for the deaf, and most of them fast asleep.
