by Nancy Warren
“The police are interviewing Aaron now.”
“Well, he’s the logical culprit. He’s the electrician, and he was pretty annoyed that I took all the winnings at poker. But would he really kill me over a few hundred quid?”
I shrugged. Right now I had no idea what to think. None of this made sense. “Your money’s missing from your wallet.”
“What?” He appeared outraged. “Murdering me wasn’t enough? They had to steal from me too?”
My phone started ringing. “I’ll get it,” Gerry joked as his hand passed through my phone.
I put my hand through the cold patch where he stood and picked up my phone. I heard Florence’s soft velvety voice and breathed a sigh of relief. She told me that Donald was gathering everybody downstairs to talk about the show. She urged me to join them.
I turned back to Gerry, who was sitting cross-legged on top of the chest of drawers. “I see everyone is more interested in baking than solving my murder.”
“Don’t worry, Gerry,” I said. “I promise you that I’ll get to the bottom of this. The police are doing everything they can. You saw them take Aaron down to the station. They’ll question him about the ovens, and we’ll find out more soon. We were a great team in life. We’ll be a great team after it.”
Even he had to smile at that. He went to high-five me, but his hand disappeared through mine.
I had to give him credit: Gerry was coping remarkably well. I couldn’t be seen talking to thin air, so I told Gerry to stay put, not peek through my things (I was thinking particularly of my underwear drawer) and generally avoid causing any mischief. If there was one thing I knew about ghosts, it was that they didn’t lose their past personalities. Gerry would be just as cheeky as he had been yesterday morning. I didn’t feel especially confident that he’d listen to me and stay here, but what choice did I have? I had to appeal to his better, ghostly nature. I told him that I would join the others downstairs and report back later.
I made it to the dining room just as a woman who turned out to be Donald’s boss and a network executive began to speak. I hadn’t met her before. Her tall, willowy frame was wrapped in a black jumpsuit, and large gold hoops peeked out beneath her brown bobbed hair. She spoke with a broad Northern accent, and as I walked in, she was telling everyone how sorry she was that such a tragedy had occurred during what should have been a fun and enjoyable experience. The whole TV station was aghast at what had happened and was hoping for a quick investigation so that Gerry’s family could have some much-needed answers. After a long night’s discussion with all involved in the making of the show, it had been decided that the series would continue. Filming would be delayed by seven days, and the series would be dedicated to Gerry’s memory.
They hoped that any gossip surrounding what had happened on the show would be long forgotten by the time it aired, and she urged all of us not to speak to the press or report back to our families before the police finished their investigation.
She said there was nothing worse for Gerry’s family than idle gossip and that it would be a terrible shame for a show that was such a well-loved institution to suffer at the sharp tongue of the press. She thanked everyone for her patience.
The room erupted into chatter. Clearly everyone was pleased at what had been decided. Although I felt bad for Gerry, I was immensely relieved that my search for my birth parents could continue. In fact, I was more determined than ever. With all the strange things happening around here, knowing about my heritage was becoming urgent.
I wanted to understand more about myself, whether seeing ghosts was something which had been passed down to me through generations of my family. I turned to look for Florence, knowing that she’d be over the moon at the network’s decision, but who did I see instead, but Gerry, standing in the doorway with that cheeky grin on his face. He looked at me and then stretched up toward the ceiling, levitating off of the ground, and I got a flash of his pale, round stomach.
When he saw Marcus, he looked as annoyed as a ghost can. He marched over to where Marcus stood, alone at the back. Gerry wound his arm back like a star pitcher and took a tremendous swing, punching his rival in the gut. I winced in sympathy, but Marcus was oblivious as Gerry’s arm thrust out his back. After that, I watched as Gerry ran at him from across the room, jumped on Marcus, dropped on him from the ceiling, even hooked his arms, stood behind and garroted the man who’d sabotaged his baking. He wasn’t doing Marcus any harm, and maybe it helped get his irritation out of his system. After a while, Marcus shivered and buttoned up his coat. Gerry pretended to be a wild dog and growled, then snapped at Marcus’s nose. He looked over at me and rubbed his hands together as if to say, job done. He was going to be a troublesome sidekick, that much was certain.
Chapter 14
Everyone dispersed when the network executive finished talking, but we still weren’t allowed to go home. I didn’t mind. I needed more time to continue my search and I wanted to help solve Gerry’s murder. But I tried to make it seem like I was as aggrieved as everyone else was and threw in some whines and moans. If there’s one thing I’ve learned that the British love, it’s complaining.
To my delight, Eve was back. She said lunch at the big house had gone fine, but the sooner Katie was out of her cast and back in charge of her kitchen, the better for everyone.
Of course, the electrocuted baker was the hot topic of conversation at Broomewode Hall as well as here. There’d never been such a scandal in this quiet, rural part of Somerset. Everyone at the Hall, from the clay-pigeon-shooting guests to the kitchen helpers, was terribly upset.
I was listening to Eve, trying to console her, when I realized Gerry had ignored my wishes to go back upstairs and instead followed me to the bar. He leaned on its sticky surface, gazing at Eve. “Oof, I could murder a pint right about now,” he said, watching Eve pull a beer. I shot him a furious look and ignored him. Eve kept lamenting Gerry’s death. Turns out, she’d thought he was quite handsome, in a naughty-school-boy kind of way. Gerry wolf-whistled. “Missed an opportunity there.” I was about to reply when I caught myself and clapped a hand over my mouth. I never had this problem with Mildred at home in my kitchen. I was going to have to get used to having an audience.
I continued to ignore him. Maybe Gerry was going to be more of a hindrance than a help.
“It’s nice someone’s sorry I’m gone,” Gerry said to me, pointedly. Oh, poor Gerry. I hadn’t had any real experience dealing with recent ghosts. All the ones I’d encountered were already used to their fate and getting on with their business. I couldn’t even imagine how confused and hurt he must be right now. But neither could I explain how much I cared in front of Eve, unless I wanted to end up in an institution. I glowered at Gerry. “Okay okay,” he said, hands up, and walked out of the bar.
“And how did you get on with Katie?” Eve asked.
I told her how unhelpful Katie Donegal had been, and she wrinkled her brow. “That’s not like Katie. I’d have sworn she knew every girl who ever worked in her kitchen. She loves to talk, but she’s kind, too, and was always hearing about their troubles and heartaches. If there was a girl in the kitchen Katie didn’t know much about, she must have been very reserved indeed.”
Or Katie was lying. I had no idea why, but I’d sensed there was a lot she wasn’t telling me.
“Ben brought Katie flowers while you were there, and he escorted you out. He’s a good lad.” She shot me a glance. “He’ll inherit all of it, you know, and be the Earl of Frome himself one of these days.”
I hoped he’d learn some better manners than his parents had demonstrated. Though taking flowers to an injured cook did suggest he was a better man than his father. “Katie called him Lord Winwood.” I’d been confused by that.
Eve chuckled. “She’s more old school than anyone. Around here he goes by Ben, but officially he’s Viscount Winford. It’s one of his father’s lesser titles, which he can use until he steps into his father’s shoes. So he’s referred to formally as Lo
rd Winford.”
I wondered suddenly if the family all wandered around inside that drafty manor house wearing their royal robes and calling each other by their titles. “Pass the salt, Your Ladyship. With pleasure, Lord Frome. Viscount Winford, will you have more gravy?”
Eve delivered the beer and returned. “Course, they’re dying to get Ben married off. Lady Frome’s shoved every debutante she can find under his nose. She’s particularly interested in them if they have money as I hear the finances are a bit tight. Being the venue for The Great British Baking Contest was a godsend for the family.”
I didn’t care much about Lord Winford’s future marriage to some rich blue blood to carry on his family dynasty. Right now, I was interested in my own family line. “It was strange, Eve. I felt almost as though Katie knew this Valerie but didn’t want to talk about her. But I can’t imagine why.”
“You sound paranoid,” she said, laughing gently. “Don’t let the events of the weekend get to you. It was a long time ago. Maybe this Valerie simply wasn’t memorable.”
I thought of that vision I’d had. That distraught young woman running away from Broomewode Hall, heavy with child, would have been memorable. Of that I was sure.
I’d been hustled out of that house like a common criminal. The Champneys were undoubtedly private people, but it felt like they were afraid to have a stranger ring their doorbell. Surely that wasn’t normal behavior for people used to hosting grand dinners and balls.
I’d have continued chatting to Eve but behind her, Gerry appeared, head and shoulders only, between a bottle of gin and one of brandy. “I found my money,” he told me in a hoarse whisper.
“Where?” I couldn’t believe he’d found it.
“Where what, Poppy?” Eve asked me.
“Sorry, I was thinking aloud.” I couldn’t talk to Gerry like this. “I think I’ll get some air. See you later.”
I walked outside. There was a seating area for warmer weather, and by walking down a path I could settle my back against a tree and not be visible from the pub.
Gerry got right in my face, like a cool breeze. “My money is in Aaron Keel’s car boot.”
“If Aaron’s got your winnings in the trunk of his car, then he must have killed you.” I couldn’t believe the electrician could take a loss at poker that hard. “Are you absolutely sure the money was yours?”
“Oh, yeah. He pulled into the parking area, and I watched him get out. I didn’t like the look of him. Thought I’d have a search of his things, but he made it easy. Opened the boot to get something out and there was the stack of banknotes, half hidden under a box of light bulbs.”
“He could have just been to the bank machine.”
“Then why not stuff the cash in his wallet? No, Poppy. He stared at the money with a strange look on his face.”
“Then what?” This was evidence. We had to tell the police.
“Then I came to find you. I’d have knocked him to the ground but that’s difficult to do with no body.”
“Okay. Let me think. We’ve got to somehow get the police to search Aaron’s car.” I couldn’t tell them a ghost had told me where his stolen money was.
“That’s him now,” Gerry said. “He’s gone into the bar.”
I turned to follow and nearly bumped into Elspeth Peach. She looked as elegant as ever in a cream skirt suit and chocolate-colored scarf. It seemed that nothing could shake her unflappable demeanor. She looked serious and was carrying Gateau. The cat reached from Elspeth’s arms and straight into mine. Gerry headed back into the bar and made waving motions for me to follow.
“There you are, dear Poppy. Is everything all right? Eve said you were acting strangely.”
I didn’t have time to explain. “I’m all right. There’s so much going on here. Stranger and stranger things keep happening. I can’t keep up.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve got people here looking out for you.”
“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll explain.” My plan was to head to the car park and take a look at Aaron’s car for myself. Maybe Elspeth would have some idea how we could convince the police to search it. We’d barely gone ten steps when a shriek sounded out from the bar. It was Eve. I hoped Gerry hadn’t decided to get all poltergeist on her. That seemed just the kind of prank he’d pull.
Elspeth ran to the sound and I followed.
“What happened?” Elspeth asked when she got to the bar.
Eve shook her head, and her long braid flipped from side to side. “The tip jar is stacked full of cash. There must be hundreds of pounds in here. There’s usually never more than a few quid.”
I raced over to the bar, and sure enough, the silver beer tankard they used as a tip jar was bursting with cash. There was so much, notes were sticking out at odd angles. Even more alarming, Gerry was jumping up and down on top of the bar, face and fists screwed up, having a temper tantrum. “I watched him put the money in there when Eve’s back was turned. I couldn’t stop him. Now he’ll get away with murder. My murder!”
“Where did he go?”
“Where did who go?” Eve was still staring at the tip jar.
Gaagh. I had to remember no one could see Gerry but me. “Aaron. I thought I saw him come in. Are the police finished with him?”
“I don’t know, Poppy. I didn’t see him. It’s been so busy in here. All the locals coming in for a pint and a gossip.”
Gerry jumped off the bar. “He went toward the guest rooms.” He pointed to the door that led to our rooms. “I should have been a detective in my life rather than a reno guy.” He twirled around. “If I had, I might still be alive.”
Since I doubted he’d be any better behaved if he was on the police force, I kept my opinions to myself. Just as well, anyway, as I didn’t want to appear to be talking to an imaginary friend.
“Could that be Gerry’s missing money?” Elspeth asked, pointing to the money.
Gerry jumped onto the edge of the bar and swung his legs, humming a football chant and looking pleased with himself. “Well done, Elspeth,” he said. “Now work out that Aaron must have put it there.”
“Are you okay, Poppy?” Eve asked. “You seem distracted. Kind of fidgety?”
I must have been swinging my head from side to side, watching Gerry’s antics. “Sorry, I’m just thinking. Who’s been through here who might have planted the money there?” Aaron Keel. Say Aaron and then we can get the police.
Eve looked puzzled. “Who would do that? Rob a dead man and then dump the cash for someone else to find?”
“The plot thickens,” Gerry said.
I had to dig my nails into my hand to stop myself from telling him to shush.
“Perhaps someone is trying to cover their tracks and mislead everyone else,” Elspeth said quietly. “I think the cash is a red herring and the money has nothing to do with Gerry’s sad death.” She shook her head. “This is such an awful business. I can’t get over how something like this could happen on the show. We should have been protecting our contestants. They should have been safe under our care.”
Eve leaned across the bar and rested her hand on Elspeth’s. She told her not to be so hard on herself—no one could have predicted that such a terrible thing could happen here in sleepy Somerset. There was nothing anyone could have done.
“We need to report this to Sergeant Lane and DI Hembly,” I said. Hopefully when they questioned her, Eve would remember that Aaron had walked through the pub only a few minutes before she found the money.
“Report what?” a voice asked. I turned, and in the doorway to the bar stood Gordon. Eve explained what we’d found and how it looked like the winnings from the poker game. Gordon looked at the cash and then reached for the wad.
“Don’t touch it!” I said sharply, but I was too late. He leafed through the money, surprised at the amount. “There’s got to be four hundred quid here,” he said. “That’s a lot of cash to take off near strangers.”
“Would somebody really kill another person because
they lost at poker? It seems so extreme. But I guess it’s up to the police to figure out,” Eve added.
Gordon was still leafing through the cash in wonder. He whistled between his teeth.
“Shouldn’t you stop touching the cash? The police might want to dust it for fingerprints,” I said.
“I imagine there will be hundreds of fingerprints on these notes anyway. But the two cops are at the tent right now if you want to walk over. I was just up there to see if I could collect my toolbox, but it’s all still sealed off. I’ll come back with you, though. Could do with a bit of a leg stretch. And it’s a gorgeous day out there.”
He stuffed the cash back, approximately the way it had been. If the police found his fingerprints all over the notes, let him explain it.
I looked longingly at Elspeth, hoping she’d intervene and offer to walk with me instead. I wanted to tell her everything and get her advice. But Jonathon and Donald came in at that moment and said they wanted to meet. From their expressions, it was something serious, though I doubted it was more serious than me knowing who’d murdered Gerry and not being able to prove it.
“Maybe that’s just a really generous tip,” Gordon said. He leaned toward Eve. “That would buy you something nice.”
“Much as I’d like that money,” Eve said, “I’d like to put this whole weekend behind me more.”
After the warning look I gave him, Gerry knew better than to follow me to the tent. I guessed he also didn’t want to return to the site of his murder, either. He drifted off toward the guest rooms, no doubt to spy on Aaron. He saluted me as he left, as if we’d embarked on some kind of military mission.
Outside, the day had warmed and the sun was directly overhead. The scent of hyacinths sweetened the air. Gateau trotted happily by my side, more like a small guard dog than a cat. At least in all of this madness, I could count on Gateau to be my wing-cat.
