by Celina Grace
“I wonder,” Inspector Marks said again. I looked at him sharply.
“What do you mean, Inspector?”
“Just that. I wonder whether he did indeed kill himself. That suicide note was awfully convenient, wasn’t it? And half the time, real suicides don’t even leave a note.”
“What are you suggesting?” I asked, just as my mind leapt along new pathways. I answered myself before he could. “You’re saying that Caroline Carpenter could have killed him, aren’t you, sir?”
“I don’t know.” Inspector Marks stared out of the window at the city beyond. “It’s a possibility that will be investigated.”
He lapsed into silence again and so did we. I was thinking about that suicide note. What had it said? Something like I find it hard to believe I can carry on living. Hadn’t Tommy said it was on a scrap of paper? That was strange in itself, wasn’t it? My mind reconstructed the scrap of paper, fitting it into a full sheet of notepaper, the rest of which was a love letter to Caroline Carpenter. If your marriage to Sir Nicholas goes ahead, my dearest one, I find it hard to believe I can carry on living…
Now I was being fanciful. I shoved another mental image away, that of Caroline telling Aldous to meet her down by the river, on a dark and shadowed pathway. Had she pointed out something to him in the river, sparkling in the moonlight? And as he leaned forward to see, one push would have done it…
The police would look into it, I told myself firmly. So no more wild imaginings.
The car turned into our street and drew up alongside the pavement. Verity and I pulled our coats more tightly around ourselves. I wondered whether Mrs Watling would be waiting up for me and hoped not. I was too tired to go into explanations.
Inspector Marks opened the door and helped us both out onto the pavement. There was a chill wind blowing that hastened our goodbyes, and overhead a few glimpses of some distant stars were visible, here and there, as the smog blew apart for a few moments.
“Thank you again, ladies,” said the inspector. “I’ll be in touch.”
Verity gave him a quick, wan smile and began to walk down the basement steps. I hesitated, knowing I should follow her but somehow, unable to leave just yet. The inspector and I stood opposite one another for a long moment, shivering in the cold and silent.
“Well, Joan—“ He held out his hand to me. I put my gloved one out to shake it. Our eyes met and there was a breathless moment of hush, even over the hubbub of a London night. Slowly the inspector drew the glove from my hand and then clasped my naked palm in his own. His hand was warm and that warmth seemed to spread all the way through me, despite the chill of the night.
“Good night,” he said, in quite a different tone to the one he’d just used, when it was Verity and me standing there.
“Goodnight,” I said, barely able to get the breath into my lungs to answer him.
He handed me back my glove and waited until I was safely down the steps into the basement. It was only then that I heard the closing of the car door and the sound of the engine as the car drove away.
I almost floated into the kitchen to find it empty of Mrs Watling, thankfully, but with Verity sat slumped at the kitchen table, wearily pulling the hat pins from her hair. Romantic thoughts popped like a soap bubble as I went to sit opposite her. She was so pale and drawn, dark circles like two smudged thumbprints under her eyes, that it was only then I realised the strain she’d been under. I hadn’t helped; I hadn’t even really noticed, so caught up had I been in solving the case. I resolved then and there to be a better friend.
“Are you all right?”
She gave me a half smile. “Just exhausted, Joan. Mentally and physically.” She sighed and said, “I’ve made up my mind to ask Mrs Anstells for help. With Dorothy, you know. I can’t keep it all to myself any longer.”
“I think you’re wise. Do you want me to come with you?”
Verity shook her head, regretfully. “Thank you, Joanie but no. Forgive me but – but she would see it as an impertinence.” She sighed again and said “It’s bad enough that I tell her.”
I nodded. I understood. “You might find that it doesn’t come as quite such a surprise to Mrs Anstells than you think it might. She’s not a stupid woman. I’m sure she might have noticed something is amiss.”
“I hope you’re right.” Verity heaved herself to her feet. “I’ll go on up now.”
“Would you like me to make you a cup of cocoa?”
Verity smiled. “No, thank you, Joanie. But that’s kind of you.”
For a moment she paused in the doorway, and we smiled at each other and I felt our friendship settle back to how it had been. Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then she turned and I listened to her tired feet dragging their way upstairs.
I stayed downstairs for five minutes, heating the milk for my own cup of cocoa and making the finishing touches to preparing the kitchen for tomorrow. By the time I got to our room, Verity was fast asleep, her head half-buried beneath the blankets. She’d left the bedside light on for me.
I got washed and undressed but, despite the cocoa, I didn’t believe I’d be able to sleep yet. There were still too many thoughts and feelings fireworking around in my head. I needed time to put my thoughts in order. I stood for a moment, in the middle of the room, undecided about what to do. Then, letting my feelings guide me, I let my hand reach out for my notebook and my pen. I sat down at the dressing table, tucking a shawl about my shoulders. The blank page lay before me on the surface of the desk, a challenge and a comfort at one and the same time. With one last glance at Verity, sleeping like a baby in her bed, I turned back to the notebook and, dipping the pen into the ink, began to write.
THE END
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Want some more of Celina Grace’s work for free? Subscribers to her mailing list get a free digital copy of Requiem (A Kate Redman Mystery: Book 2), a free digital copy of A Prescription for Death (The Asharton Manor Mysteries Book 2) and a free PDF copy of her short story collection A Blessing from The Obeah Man.
Requiem (A Kate Redman Mystery: Book 2)
When the body of troubled teenager Elodie Duncan is pulled from the river in Abbeyford, the case is at first assumed to be a straightforward suicide. Detective Sergeant Kate Redman is shocked to discover that she’d met the victim the night before her death, introduced by Kate’s younger brother Jay. As the case develops, it becomes clear that Elodie was murdered. A talented young musician, Elodie had been keeping some strange company and was hiding her own dark secrets.
As the list of suspects begin to grow, so do the questions. What is the significance of the painting Elodie modelled for? Who is the man who was seen with her on the night of her death? Is there any connection with another student’s death at the exclusive musical college that Elodie attended?
As Kate and her partner Detective Sergeant Mark Olbeck attempt to unravel the mystery, the dark undercurrents of the case threaten those whom Kate holds most dear…
A Prescription for Death (The Asharton Manor Mysteries: Book 2) – a novella
“I had a surge of kinship the first time I saw the manor, perhaps because we’d both seen better days.”
It is 1947. Asharton Manor, once one of the most beautiful stately homes in the West Country, is now a convalescent home for former soldiers. Escaping the devastation of post-war London is Vivian Holt, who moves to the nearby village and begins to volunteer as a nurse’s aide at the manor. Mourning the death of her soldier husband, Vivian finds solace in her new friendship with one of the older patients, Norman Winter, someone who has served his country in both world wars. Slowly, Vivian’s heart begins to heal, only to be torn apart when she arrives for work one day to be told that Norman is dead.
> It seems a straightforward death, but is it? Why did a particular photograph disappear from Norman’s possessions after his death? Who is the sinister figure who keeps following Vivian? Suspicion and doubts begin to grow and when another death occurs, Vivian begins to realise that the war may be over but the real battle is just beginning…
A Blessing from The Obeah Man
Dare you read on? Horrifying, scary, sad and thought-provoking, this short story collection will take you on a macabre journey. In the titular story, a honeymooning couple take a wrong turn on their trip around Barbados. The Mourning After brings you a shivery story from a suicidal teenager. In Freedom Fighter, an unhappy middle-aged man chooses the wrong day to make a bid for freedom, whereas Little Drops of Happiness and Wave Goodbye are tales of darkness from sunny Down Under. Strapping Lass and The Club are for those who prefer, shall we say, a little meat to the story…
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Have you read the first Asharton Manor Mystery? This is the book that introduces Joan and Verity and it’s available as a permanently FREE download:
Death at the Manor (The Asharton Manor Mysteries: Book 1)
**Please note - this is a novella-length piece of fiction – not a full length novel**
It is 1929. Asharton Manor stands alone in the middle of a pine forest, once the place where ancient pagan ceremonies were undertaken in honour of the goddess Astarte. The Manor is one of the most beautiful stately homes in the West Country and seems like a palace to Joan Hart, newly arrived from London to take up a servant’s position as the head kitchen maid. Getting to grips with her new role and with her fellow workers, Joan is kept busy, but not too busy to notice that the glittering surface of life at the Manor might be hiding some dark secrets. The beautiful and wealthy mistress of the house, Delphine Denford, keeps falling ill but why? Confiding her thoughts to her friend and fellow housemaid, feisty Verity Hunter, Joan is unsure of what exactly is making her uneasy, but then Delphine Denford dies…
Armed only with their own good sense and quick thinking, Joan and Verity must pit their wits against a cunning murderer in order to bring them to justice.
Download Death at the Manor from Amazon Kindle for free, available now.
Other books by Celina Grace
The Asharton Manor Mysteries
Some old houses have more history than others...
The Asharton Manor Mysteries Boxed Set is a four part series of novellas spanning the twentieth century. Each standalone story (about 20,000 words) uses Asharton Manor as the backdrop to a devious and twisting crime mystery. The boxed set includes the following stories:
Death at the Manor
It is 1929. Asharton Manor stands alone in the middle of a pine forest, once the place where ancient pagan ceremonies were undertaken in honour of the goddess Astarte. The Manor is one of the most beautiful stately homes in the West Country and seems like a palace to Joan Hart, newly arrived from London to take up a servant’s position as the head kitchen maid. Getting to grips with her new role and with her fellow workers, Joan is kept busy, but not too busy to notice that the glittering surface of life at the Manor might be hiding some dark secrets. The beautiful and wealthy mistress of the house, Delphine Denford, keeps falling ill but why? Confiding her thoughts to her friend and fellow housemaid Verity Hunter, Joan is unsure of what exactly is making her uneasy, but then Delphine Denford dies… Armed only with their own good sense and quick thinking, Joan and Verity must pit their wits against a cunning murderer in order to bring them to justice.
A Prescription for Death
It is 1947. Asharton Manor, once one of the most beautiful stately homes in the West Country, is now a convalescent home for former soldiers. Escaping the devastation of post-war London is Vivian Holt, who moves to the nearby village and begins to volunteer as a nurse’s aide at the manor. Mourning the death of her soldier husband, Vivian finds solace in her new friendship with one of the older patients, Norman Winter, someone who has served his country in both world wars. Slowly, Vivian’s heart begins to heal, only to be torn apart when she arrives for work one day to be told that Norman is dead. It seems a straightforward death, but is it? Why did a particular photograph disappear from Norman’s possessions after his death? Who is the sinister figure who keeps following Vivian? Suspicion and doubts begin to grow and when another death occurs, Vivian begins to realise that the war may be over but the real battle is just beginning…
The Rhythm of Murder
It is 1973. Eve and Janey, two young university students, are en route to a Bristol commune when they take an unexpected detour to the little village of Midford. Seduced by the roguish charms of a young man who picks them up in the village pub, they are astonished to find themselves at Asharton Manor, now the residence of the very wealthy, very famous, very degenerate Blue Turner, lead singer of rock band Dirty Rumours. The golden summer rolls on, full of sex, drugs and rock and roll, but Eve begins to sense that there may be a sinister side to all the hedonism. And then one day, Janey disappears, seemingly run away… but as Eve begins to question what happened to her friend, she realises that she herself might be in terrible danger…
Number Thirteen, Manor Close
It is 2014. Beatrice and Mike Dunhill are finally moving into a house of their own, Number Thirteen, Manor Close. Part of the brand new Asharton Estate, Number Thirteen is built on the remains of the original Asharton Manor which was destroyed in a fire in 1973. Still struggling a little from the recent death of her mother, Beatrice is happy to finally have a home of her own – until she begins to experience some strange happenings that, try as she might, she can’t explain away. Her husband Mike seems unconvinced and only her next door neighbour Mia seems to understand Beatrice’s growing fear of her home. Uncertain of her own judgement, Beatrice must confront what lies beneath the beautiful surface of the Asharton Estate. But can she do so without losing her mind – or her life?
Have you met Detective Sergeant Kate Redman?
The Kate Redman Mysteries are the bestselling detective mysteries from Celina Grace, featuring the flawed but determined female officer Kate Redman and her pursuit of justice in the West Country town of Abbeyford.
Hushabye (A Kate Redman Mystery: Book 1) is the novel that introduces Detective Sergeant Kate Redman on her first case in Abbeyford. It’s available for free!
A missing baby. A murdered girl. A case where everyone has something to hide...
On the first day of her new job in the West Country, Detective Sergeant Kate Redman finds herself investigating the kidnapping of Charlie Fullman, the newborn son of a wealthy entrepreneur and his trophy wife. It seems a straightforward case... but as Kate and her fellow officer Mark Olbeck delve deeper, they uncover murky secrets and multiple motives for the crime.
Kate finds the case bringing up painful memories of her own past secrets. As she confronts the truth about herself, her increasing emotional instability threatens both her hard-won career success and the possibility that they will ever find Charlie Fullman alive...
EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS ARE DUE TO MY WONDERFUL ADVANCE READERS TEAM…
These are my ‘super readers’ who are kind enough to beta read my books, point out my more ridiculous mistakes, spot any typos that have slipped past my editor and best of all, write honest reviews in exchange for advance copies of my work. Many, many thanks to you all.
If you fancy being an Advance Reader, just drop me a line at [email protected] and I’ll add you to the list. It’s completely free, and you can unsubscribe at any time.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to all the following splendid souls:
Chris Howard for the brilliant cove
r designs; Andrea Harding for editing and proofreading; Tammi Lebrecque for virtual assistance; lifelong Schlockers and friends David Hall, Ben Robinson and Alberto Lopez; Ross McConnell for advice on police procedural and for also being a great brother; Kathleen and Pat McConnell, Anthony Alcock, Naomi White, Mo Argyle, Lee Benjamin, Bonnie Wede, Sherry and Amali Stoute, Cheryl Lucas, Georgia Lucas-Going, Steven Lucas, Loletha Stoute and Harry Lucas, Helen Parfect, Helen Watson, Emily Way, Sandy Hall, Kristýna Vosecká, Katie D’Arcy and of course my lovely Chris, Mabel, Jethro and Isaiah.
This book is for my aunt, Rosemary Farley, with love.