He found his voice at last. “I haven’t arrested your cousin’s son, Mrs. Bloomer—he’s just been brought in for questioning. And for trying to punch Foxon on the nose,” he added. “But if he’d acted like a sensible lad when we asked him where he was the other night—or if he’d had the brains to talk to us since he’s been in the nick—he’d be back at the hop garden this minute. But he’s behaved like an idiot right from the start, and as the bloke we’re looking for is . . . oh. The bloke,” with a glance at Miss Seeton, who was nodding and blinking, “we were looking for, I mean. But we can’t let him go until we know what the h—er, blazes he’s been playing at.” He found himself chuckling. “Foxon would never forgive me—young Barry packs a mean punch.”
“Brawn as opposed to brain,” murmured Mel, gazing wide-eyed at Thrudd. “Muscles, and black leather, and the hot smell of petrol—the power, the speed, the excitement—”
“Motorbikes!” Brinton slapped a sudden hand across his brow, and groaned. He snatched the sketchbook and turned back to Miss Seeton’s drawing of Barry on his huge machine, the throbbing rush of exhaust streaming out behind as he raced against lawn-mowing Nigel. “He’s a mechanical wizard—old Hezekiah had sent him for spare parts—I’ll be damned if he wasn’t in that all-night rally the Hastings boys had so much trouble sorting out! Harry Furneux said some of the blighters got away . . .”
Everyone except Miss Seeton stared at him as he clutched his hair, and groaned. “Those Choppers—they’ll be the death of me yet, I know. Why the devil didn’t I think of it before? Motorbikes . . .”
“Makes sense,” Mel told him cheerfully. “Top marks for deduction, Mr. Brinton—seems you understand Miss S.’s pictures better than I ever could. And isn’t it nice for Martha to know her cousin’s not a—ahem!” as Miss Seeton’s sleepy eyes drifted open. There was no need for Thrudd to kick his colleague this time. “To know,” Mel swiftly amended, “that the worst he can expect is a fine and an endorsement!”
And Martha looked Amelita Forby straight in the face. “Yes,” she said, with a smile. “Yes, Mel, it is.”
• • •
Miss Seeton, having slept for most of the day, was in the kitchen making herself a quiet cup of tea when there came a knock at the door.
“Nigel, how very nice to see you. What beautiful flowers.” Her eyes twinkled. “Let me guess, now—you’re on your way to visit your friend Heather?”
Beneath his tan, Nigel went pink. “Heather? Oh, these aren’t for Heather, Miss Seeton—they’re for you. With my thanks, and, er, all that. For helping to—well, for being the one to get me out of a rather uncomfortable hole.”
Miss Seeton stared. Flowers—gardens—hole? Surely not the lawn at Rytham Hall! Had Nigel been practising for his race, and churned up the turf? But what had that to do with herself?
She twinkled at him again. “If you are trying out your apologies on me before offering them to dear Lady Colveden, then I should say that these beautiful flowers would appease the angriest of mothers. But you must promise not to do it again, Nigel. Is the honour of the Young Farmers really worth so great an expense?”
Nigel stared, realised she had no idea what he’d meant to say, and decided he couldn’t face the effort of explanation after the stress of the past couple of days. He hadn’t wanted to worry his parents about what he’d been sure was a genuine mistake on the part of Superintendent Brinton and those three witnesses: he’d felt sure things would soon sort themselves out—but it had been a lonely, anxious time. In a village, the very worst news is kept from those whom it most closely concerns, in an unspoken conspiracy for one to protect another so that should the worst happen elsewhere, others in turn will be protected. Nigel knew from their general attitude that neither of his parents had been allowed to learn what had happened to him; he realised that there was nobody with whom he cared to share the burden. Then had come this afternoon’s personal visit from Brinton, heavy with apology, waving at him across the field he was in the middle of ploughing. Only after Brinton had gone did Nigel let himself relax, and feel able to talk about the affair. Sir George had huffed, saying that a trouble shared was a trouble halved, but Nigel had shown the right spirit in keeping it from the women. Lady Colveden, who’d turned briefly pale from shock, promptly turned pink with annoyance, and said it was a bit much to be treated like a hothouse flower after more than twenty-five years of marriage.
“Flowers,” she said, inspired. “I’ll pick the biggest bunch Miss Seeton’s ever seen, and I don’t care what it does to my borders. Martha says she’s not to be disturbed, but you know how quickly she always bounces back—by teatime today, at a guess. You must take them down to her, Nigel, and say how very grateful we are . . .”
Miss Seeton was at last prevailed upon to accept the flowers, although still uncertain what she had done to deserve such generosity. Nigel, looking forward to tea on the lawn and a slice of Martha’s fruitcake, was struck by a sudden inspiration.
“Look on them as bribery and corruption, Miss Seeton. Because I have the most enormous favour to ask you—about the Lawn Mower Race . . .”
The Young Farmers—especially Heather—had been greatly shocked to learn that one of their number was in custody on suspicion of being a double killer. News of Nigel’s ordeal, and that of Barry Panfield, sent ripples of consternation throughout the immediate area. The reputation of the group was at stake: they must redeem themselves in the eyes of Kent. They must earn vast sums of money during the Lawn Mower Race—they would give Barry a wild card entry—they would cross Pondicherry Farm from their list of Possible Locations For Future Events . . .
“And we thought,” said Nigel, sitting happily under the apple tree, “that it would be rather a splendid wheeze if you would agree to start the Grand Finale, Miss Seeton. We, er, wondered if, instead of waving a flag, you wouldn’t mind opening your umbrella . . .”
The Lawn Mower Race raised one of the largest sums the chosen charity had ever received from so theoretically small an individual event.
Barry Panfield accepted his wild card, although he spent more time in the pits repairing faulty mowers than in racing the one he’d borrowed. Prevailed upon to enter at least the Grand Finale, he surprised and gratified one and all by coming a respectable second, dead-heat with Nigel Colveden.
And the winner? Nagged into entering for the sake of community spirit, scared of how it would be at home should he do badly—the winner was the Reverend Arthur Treeves.
Note from the Publisher
While he was alive, series creator Heron Carvic had tremendous fun imagining Emily Seeton and the supporting cast of characters.
In an enjoyable 1977 essay Carvic recalled how, after having first used her in a short story, “Miss Seeton upped and demanded a book”—and that if “she wanted to satirize detective novels in general and elderly lady detectives in particular, he would let her have her head . . .”
You can now read Heron Carvic’s essay about the genesis of Miss Seeton, in full, as well as receive updates on further releases in the series, by signing up at http://eepurl.com/b2GCqr
Preview
COMING SOON
Starring Miss Seeton . . .
Miss Seeton, her umbrella over her arm and her handbag open as she rummaged for her key, was just about to unlock the front door when she heard the sound of nearby slamming, followed by hasty footsteps—footsteps heading, she soon realised, in the direction of Sweetbriars. Though a gentlewoman does not display undue curiosity, Miss Seeton considered it not unduly curious of herself to wonder if there might be something wrong across the road at the George and Dragon, from where the sounds had obviously come.
She turned, and took a few steps down her short, paved path to see if she could render any assistance in whatever emergency had just arisen: and was somewhat startled to observe a small, pink-faced man with an enormous moustache and wild, glittering eyes rushing towards her at a rate even she—fond of walking and, thanks to her yoga exercises, more than
usually fit for her age as she was—did not believe she could maintain for long.
The angry-looking little man shot her a sideways glance as he neared the gate, narrowed his eyes, and rushed on. His feet, thought Miss Seeton, tapped in an almost—she felt her own cheeks turn pink, with the realisation that one was being overfanciful—machine-gun rhythm . . .
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The Fox Among the Chickens . . .
The squawking from the hen-houses continued unabated. Miss Seeton arrived at the runs. She beat the wire door with her umbrella.
“Stop that,” she called. “Stop that at once, do you hear me?”
“Sure, lady. I hear you.”
She gasped. A shadow moved forward, reached through the wire and unhooked the door. With the moon behind him Miss Seeton could see little but a dark shape muffled in a coat, a hat pulled low. But the moon shone on the barrel of the pistol he held.
“Now, just take it nice and easy, lady. Back to the house and no noise, see.”
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About the Miss Seeton series
Retired art teacher Miss Seeton steps in where Scotland Yard stumbles. Armed with only her sketch pad and umbrella, she is every inch an eccentric English spinster and at every turn the most lovable and unlikely master of detection.
Reviews of the Miss Seeton series:
“Miss Seeton gets into wild drama with fine touches of farce . . . This is a lovely mixture of the funny and the exciting.”
San Francisco Chronicle
“A most beguiling protagonist!”
New York Times
“This is not so much black comedy as black-currant comedy . . . You can't stop reading. Or laughing.”
The Sun
“She’s a joy!”
Cleveland Plain Dealer
“Not since Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple has there been a more lovable female dabbler in crime and suspense.”
Amarillo News
“Depth of description and lively characters bring this English village to life.”
Publishers Weekly
Further titles in the series:
Picture Miss Seeton
A night at the opera strikes a chord of danger when Miss Seeton witnesses a murder . . . and paints a portrait of the killer.
Miss Seeton Draws the Line
Miss Seeton is enlisted by Scotland Yard when her paintings of a little girl turn the young subject into a model for murder.
Witch Miss Seeton
Double, double, toil and trouble sweep through the village when Miss Seeton goes undercover . . . to investigate a local witches’ coven!
Miss Seeton Sings
Miss Seeton boards the wrong plane and lands amidst a gang of European counterfeiters. One false note, and her new destination is deadly indeed.
Odds on Miss Seeton
Miss Seeton in diamonds and furs at the roulette table? It’s all a clever disguise for the high-rolling spinster . . . but the game of money and murder is all too real.
Miss Seeton, By Appointment
Miss Seeton is off to Buckingham Palace on a secret mission—but to foil a jewel heist, she must risk losing the Queen’s head . . . and her own neck!
Advantage, Miss Seeton
Miss Seeton’s summer outing to a tennis match serves up more than expected when Britain’s up-and-coming female tennis star is hounded by mysterious death threats.
Miss Seeton at the Helm
Miss Seeton takes a whirlwind cruise to the Mediterranean—bound for disaster. A murder on board leads the seafaring sleuth into some very stormy waters.
Miss Seeton Cracks the Case
It’s highway robbery for the innocent passengers of a motor coach tour. When Miss Seeton sketches the roadside bandits, she becomes a moving target herself.
Miss Seeton Paints the Town
The Best Kept Village Competition inspires Miss Seeton’s most unusual artwork—a burning cottage—and clears the smoke of suspicion in a series of local fires.
Hands Up, Miss Seeton
The gentle Miss Seeton? A thief? A preposterous notion—until she’s accused of helping a pickpocket . . . and stumbles into a nest of crime.
Miss Seeton by Moonlight
Scotland Yard borrows one of Miss Seeton’s paintings to bait an art thief . . . when suddenly a second thief strikes.
Miss Seeton Rocks the Cradle
It takes all of Miss Seeton’s best instincts—maternal and otherwise—to solve a crime that’s hardly child’s play.
Miss Seeton Goes to Bat
Miss Seeton’s in on the action when a cricket game leads to mayhem in the village of Plummergen . . . and gives her a shot at smashing Britain’s most baffling burglary ring.
Miss Seeton Plants Suspicion
Miss Seeton was tending her garden when a local youth was arrested for murder. Now she has to find out who’s really at the root of the crime.
Starring Miss Seeton
Miss Seeton’s playing a backstage role in the village’s annual Christmas pageant. But the real drama is behind the scenes . . . when the next act turns out to be murder!
Miss Seeton Undercover
The village is abuzz, as a TV crew searches for a rare apple, the Plummergen Peculier—while police hunt a murderous thief . . . and with Miss Seeton at the centre of it all.
Miss Seeton Rules
Royalty comes to Plummergen, and the villagers are plotting a grand impression. But when Princess Georgina goes missing, Miss Seeton herself has questions to answer.
Sold to Miss Seeton
Miss Seeton accidentally buys a mysterious antique box at auction . . . and finds herself crossing paths with some very dangerous characters!
Sweet Miss Seeton
Miss Seeton is stalked by a confectionary sculptor, just as a spate of suspicious deaths among the village’s elderly residents calls for her attention.
Bonjour, Miss Seeton
After a trip to explore the French countryside, a case of murder awaits Miss Seeton back in the village . . . and a shocking revelation.
Miss Seeton’s Finest Hour
War-time England, and a young Miss Emily Seeton’s suspicious sketches call her loyalty into question—until she is recruited to uncover a case of sabotage.
About Heron Carvic and Hamilton Crane
The Miss Seeton series was created by Heron Carvic; and continued after his death first by Peter Martin writing as Hampton Charles, and later by Sarah J. Mason under the pseudonym Hamilton Crane.
Heron Carvic was an actor and writer, most recognisable today for his voice portrayal of the character Gandalf in the first BBC Radio broadcast version of The Hobbit, and appearances in several television productions, including early series of The Avengers and Dr Who.
Born Geoffrey Richard William Harris in 1913, he held several early jobs including as an interior designer and florist, before developing a successful dramatic career and his public persona of Heron Carvic. He only started writing the Miss Seeton novels in the 1960s, after using her in a short story.
Heron Carvic died in a car accident in Kent in 1980.
Hamilton Crane is the pseudonym used by Sarah J. Mason when writing 13 sequels and one prequel to the Miss Seeton series. She has also written detective fiction under her own name, but should not be confused with the Sarah Mason (no middle initial) who writes a rather different kind of book.
After half a century in Hertfordshire (if we ignore four years in Scotland and one in New Zealand), Sarah J. Mason now lives in Somerset—within easy reach of the beautiful city of Wells, and just far enough from Glastonbury to avoid the annual traffic jams.
This edition published in 2016 by Farrago, an imprint of Prelude Books Ltd
13 Carrington Road, Richmond, TW10 5AA, United Kingdom,
www.farragobooks.com
By arrangement with the Beneficiaries of the Literary Estate of Heron Carvic
First publ
ished by Berkley in 1993
Copyright © Sarah J. Mason 1993
The right of Sarah J. Mason to be identified as the author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-911440-03-1
Version 1.0
Cover design by Patrick Knowles
Miss Seeton Plants Suspicion (A Miss Seeton Mystery Book 15) Page 23
