Cozy Mystery: Dining With The Dead (A Millerfield Village Cozy Murder Mysteries Series)

by Carrie Marsh

  “Oh?” Laura was interested.

  “Well, I went to the lab to talk to Murray, and he had some interesting observations to make about acetylcholine. It is a neurotransmitter, yes...but a major reason for acetylcholine levels in the blood to increase is through the presence of some neurotoxic poisons. That's how some snakebites work, for example. And before you think of it, no, our Mr. Ramley didn't have any signs of snakebites.”

  “So...” Laura gazed at him, blue eyes unfocused.

  “So, there's a good chance our Mr. Ramley was poisoned.”

  “Oh...” Laura closed her eyes. “And somehow there is a link between Mr. Ramley and the Hogarth farm...”

  “But I thought you said the Hogarth farm thing was because the owner was having an affair with Mrs. Hogarth?”

  “Well...” Laura bit her lip. “That is a link, but...why would Mr. Preston appear as a ghost on the farm and in his own hotel? That seems a bit strange, doesn't it?”

  “Oh, yes!” Howard agreed. “I had forgotten about the ghost incident. Maybe he needed to fetch something he'd forgotten at the farm? Trousers...”

  They chuckled. “I'm sure he's not the kind to forget his trousers somewhere...” Laura grinned. “But I agree, that is possible.” Suddenly, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh!”

  “What is it?”

  “I had completely forgotten! Chelsea! She reported something stolen from a guest's room. What if it was Mr. Ramley's room?”

  “Oh.” Howard looked very grave. “Well, that is another matter entirely”

  “Yes,” Laura agreed.

  “Okay,” Howard said, and stretched. “So we both have some investigating to do. I have to find out more about the blood results – I persuaded his doctor to send them for a more broad-spectrum test. You have to ask this Chelsea what went missing.”

  “Yes,” Laura agreed. “And I still want to go to London! Now we know there isn't any danger about my leaving town...” She paused, noticing that he was still staring at her. She could not help that her heart missed a beat when he leveled that dark gaze at her.

  “It's late,” Howard observed, looking at the clock. They were having lunch, but it was almost five in the evening.

  “Mm,” Laura agreed.

  Neither of them moved. The wine and the peaceful company had mellowed everything, and they were both reluctant to change mode.

  “Howard,” Laura said simply. He was still staring at her.

  “Laura.” His hand moved across the table and caressed hers. He looked into her eyes. Laura felt her whole body catch fire.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “Post!”

  Laura groaned. Howard pulled a face, and she grinned, wry.

  “I'll just go and fetch it...” she said, and he sat back, waiting for her.

  A few seconds later, Laura returned to the table carrying a parcel and a sheaf of letters and advertisements.

  “Shoes,” she said, seeing him eye the box. “From Green Cross,” she added. “For the backaches.”

  “Oh”, he said. “I didn't know you got backaches...” He looked concerned, and Laura, feeling shy even though he was a doctor, changed the subject.

  “More advertisements...” she sighed. “Here's one for health insurance, look...”

  Howard chuckled. “I don't think I'm allowed to advise you about that!”

  Laura smiled. “Oh, and here's a party invitation from my friend Bea! That's nice...”

  “Where?”

  “Birmingham,” Laura said succinctly. Then she stopped.

  She had come to the bottom of the pile, where there was just one envelope.

  An unmarked envelope.

  “Howard...” she said in a very small voice.

  “It's another letter, isn't it?” He said quietly.

  “Oh!” Laura said wretchedly, and burst into tears. “I thought we'd got to the end of those letters. I thought I knew who sent them...”

  “Let me,” Howard said quietly. He reached over and opened it.

  “Thank you,” Laura breathed, and leaned back gratefully in her chair.

  He looked over the note and then looked up, face grave. “Remember you wanted to go to London?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think it might be dangerous. Please, let me go instead. I have to go to see Dr. Singh.”

  “Howard...What does it say?” Laura asked, scared.

  “I don't want to tell you.” Howard demurred. “I just think it would be better if I went instead – you know I have to go anyway.”

  Feeling miserable, Laura nodded. She would let him go. She had to.

  She just didn't like it one little bit.

  He crumpled up the note and stood to leave. As he did so, he bent over the table and lightly kissed her hair.

  Laura did not move from the table until after he had left. She was surprised to discover her eyes were damp. She could not risk him now. Not when she had just discovered that she was in love with him.“And you found all that out by yourself?”

  Howard laughed, incredulous. It was Saturday, and he was seated at Laura's kitchen table, where they had just enjoyed a home-cooked meal of pasta. They had moved on to a delicious bottle of white wine Howard had brought, and as they drank they discussed their week's investigations.

  Laura sat back, feeling proud of herself.

  “I guess it was coincidence...” she said, modest. Something about Howard always made her happy and shy at once.

  “Coincidence, maybe, but you interpreted it. Clever girl!” He saluted her with his glass and then drank it back in one go. He sighed, leaning back in the chair.

  “How was your week?” Laura asked gently.

  “Tiring,” the doctor explained. “Though...” and here his eyes twinkled, “I have found some interesting news for you as well...”

  “Oh?” Laura was interested.

  “Well, I went to the lab to talk to Murray, and he had some interesting observations to make about acetylcholine. It is a neurotransmitter, yes...but a major reason for acetylcholine levels in the blood to increase is through the presence of some neurotoxic poisons. That's how some snakebites work, for example. And before you think of it, no, our Mr. Ramley didn't have any signs of snakebites.”

  “So...” Laura gazed at him, blue eyes unfocused.

  “So, there's a good chance our Mr. Ramley was poisoned.”

  “Oh...” Laura closed her eyes. “And somehow there is a link between Mr. Ramley and the Hogarth farm...”

  “But I thought you said the Hogarth farm thing was because the owner was having an affair with Mrs. Hogarth?”

  “Well...” Laura bit her lip. “That is a link, but...why would Mr. Preston appear as a ghost on the farm and in his own hotel? That seems a bit strange, doesn't it?”

  “Oh, yes!” Howard agreed. “I had forgotten about the ghost incident. Maybe he needed to fetch something he'd forgotten at the farm? Trousers...”

  They chuckled. “I'm sure he's not the kind to forget his trousers somewhere...” Laura grinned. “But I agree, that is possible.” Suddenly, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh!”

  “What is it?”

  “I had completely forgotten! Chelsea! She reported something stolen from a guest's room. What if it was Mr. Ramley's room?”

  “Oh.” Howard looked very grave. “Well, that is another matter entirely”

  “Yes,” Laura agreed.

  “Okay,” Howard said, and stretched. “So we both have some investigating to do. I have to find out more about the blood results – I persuaded his doctor to send them for a more broad-spectrum test. You have to ask this Chelsea what went missing.”

  “Yes,” Laura agreed. “And I still want to go to London! Now we know there isn't any danger about my leaving town...” She paused, noticing that he was still staring at her. She could not help that her heart missed a beat when he leveled that dark gaze at her.

  “It's late,” Howard observed, looking at the clock. They were having
lunch, but it was almost five in the evening.

  “Mm,” Laura agreed.

  Neither of them moved. The wine and the peaceful company had mellowed everything, and they were both reluctant to change mode.

  “Howard,” Laura said simply. He was still staring at her.

  “Laura.” His hand moved across the table and caressed hers. He looked into her eyes. Laura felt her whole body catch fire.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “Post!”

  Laura groaned. Howard pulled a face, and she grinned, wry.

  “I'll just go and fetch it...” she said, and he sat back, waiting for her.

  A few seconds later, Laura returned to the table carrying a parcel and a sheaf of letters and advertisements.

  “Shoes,” she said, seeing him eye the box. “From Green Cross,” she added. “For the backaches.”

  “Oh”, he said. “I didn't know you got backaches...” He looked concerned, and Laura, feeling shy even though he was a doctor, changed the subject.

  “More advertisements...” she sighed. “Here's one for health insurance, look...”

  Howard chuckled. “I don't think I'm allowed to advise you about that!”

  Laura smiled. “Oh, and here's a party invitation from my friend Bea! That's nice...”

  “Where?”

  “Birmingham,” Laura said succinctly. Then she stopped.

  She had come to the bottom of the pile, where there was just one envelope.

  An unmarked envelope.

  “Howard...” she said in a very small voice.

  “It's another letter, isn't it?” He said quietly.

  “Oh!” Laura said wretchedly, and burst into tears. “I thought we'd got to the end of those letters. I thought I knew who sent them...”

  “Let me,” Howard said quietly. He reached over and opened it.

  “Thank you,” Laura breathed, and leaned back gratefully in her chair.

  He looked over the note and then looked up, face grave. “Remember you wanted to go to London?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think it might be dangerous. Please, let me go instead. I have to go to see Dr. Singh.”

  “Howard...What does it say?” Laura asked, scared.

  “I don't want to tell you.” Howard demurred. “I just think it would be better if I went instead – you know I have to go anyway.”

  Feeling miserable, Laura nodded. She would let him go. She had to.

  She just didn't like it one little bit.

  He crumpled up the note and stood to leave. As he did so, he bent over the table and lightly kissed her hair.

  Laura did not move from the table until after he had left. She was surprised to discover her eyes were damp. She could not risk him now. Not when she had just discovered that she was in love with him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  IN THE BLOOD

  “Laura!” Janet burst in, looking excited.

  “Yes?” Laura looked up tranquilly. Since Janet's strange reaction about her “nosiness”, she had been reluctant to trust her, but Laura felt herself softening towards the woman.

  “Mm?”

  “You were looking for Chelsea earlier?”

  “Yes,” Laura agreed. “Why?”

  “Well, I found her, and said that you wanted to ask about that day when something was stolen, but she doesn't want to talk about it! Isn't that odd?”

  “She didn't say why?”

  “No!” Janet said. “But she seems scared. You don't think she had something to do with...it...do you?” Janet inclined her head towards the corner of the restaurant where half of it was still cordoned off for police inspection.

  “No,” Laura said flatly. She didn't.

  “Well, okay,” Janet blinked. “No need to shout at me about it...”

  “Sorry,” Laura mumbled. “Just distracted. A friend of mine isn't well.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  Laura smiled and went around the counter, heading off to the main office.

  Chelsea was adamant that she had stolen nothing

  When Laura got past the initial denial, she discovered that what had gone missing had been some papers. Something, apparently, to do with Mr. Ramley's work. Neither Chelsea nor Janet knew what they might have been.

  “He was with some farming business, I think...” Janet wrinkled her brow, answering the question Laura had asked over a week ago. “It was called Green...something. Damn! I can't remember Green what, exactly.”

  Laura decided to look through everything about Nigel Ramley available.

  It's possible his profile is still on their company's website, she thought, and shuddered. It's a bit cruel to his family to leave it there, but still...She hoped they had.

  “Nigel Ramley, London,” she typed into the search engine. “There we are...”

  The third Nigel Ramley was him – Laura recognized him from the photograph. The link was to the company he had worked at for the last fifteen years as a top consultant: Greencentive.

  “Greencentive is all about driving green ideals in business,” she read off the “About us” page. “Our independent team of consultants assess the environmental impact of your development, no matter how big or small.”

  Laura leaned back in her chair.

  “Interesting,” she said.

  She took out her notebook and wrote two words: “Greencentive”, and “consulting”.

  The telephone rang, disrupting her reverie. She dealt with the booking, and then thought some more. He might just have been here for a leisure-time visit, Laura conceded. Maybe it had nothing to do with his work.

  Business documents had been stolen from his room.

  “Oh.” Laura said. “Crikey.”

  Because that could tell her a motive for murder. Surely the murderer had stolen the documents as well?

  The morning passed uneventfully, and soon it was lunch-time.

  Howard came in at one o' clock and Laura nodded to Bethany, an implied suggestion to take over lunch service. Then she went to join Howard at his table by the window. She had to hear his news.

  Howard looked troubled.

  “Firstly, I have to tell you. I got the bloods back, and had a look at them. The lab in London had a good go over them, and here is the report.” He flipped a long, typed document across to Laura, filled with numbers and tables of percentages she did not understand.

  “What is it saying?” Laura asked, pointing at a number that stood out to her. It was not a big number, but it was much bigger than the number in the “normal plasma level” column next door.

  “That's acetylcholine,” He said flatly. “That's exactly what I saw.”

  “Mm?” Laura frowned at him, and popped some lettuce into her mouth. The word didn't mean anything to her.

  “It's a neurotransmitter.” Howard said. His expression was dark.

  Laura looked blank, and he explained further. “It carries messages from the brain to the nerves. This particular one is in charge of muscle contraction. If you squeeze your hand, like this...” he squeezed her fingers, “the stuff telling your muscles how to do that is acetylcholine.”

  Bethany came up to collect the plates, and neither of them remembered Howard was still squeezing Laura's hand. She stared at Laura, who looked down.

  “Oh...” Laura took her hand away, blushing deeply.

  “Acetylcholine function...” the doctor said meaningfully.

  “Oh,” Bethany said bemused. She carried their plates away.

  Laura and Howard sat quietly for a while.

  “So...?” Laura asked after a minute. Howard looked concerned, and she wished she could alleviate the frown that crossed his face.

  “So,” Howard said, “I have to ask something. Was there any sign of a seizure? Can you remember?”

  “Seizure?”

  “Had the patient...um, the victim, knocked anything over at the time just before his death? Displaced anything from the table?”

  “I don't think so...” Laura
said blankly. “It all looked like it was in the right place to me.”

  “Thanks,” Howard replied. “This looks bad...” he said under his breath.

  He was standing, packing his things into his case. He seemed in a hurry. “I need to get down to the lab,” he explained, apologetically, still busily putting on his jacket. “I want to ask Mr. Murray, the pathologist, a few things. Stuff is looking nasty. I have a thought...” He sighed. “I'm sorry I'm so distracted, Laura,” he added. He took her hand again, briefly. Laura heard someone across the room cough, loudly, but she did not care.

  “That's okay,” she said, voice wobbling.

  “See you?” Howard said, and walked quickly to the door.

  After he left and Laura returned to work.

  “I don't know what to do,” she whispered.

  The whole world was hostile, filled with potential killers.

  And she was all alone.

  Later, sitting in her car as she drove back from work, Laura felt calm slowly descend. Something about the scenery, the sunset, the wheat nodding in the evening's wind, made her feel centered again.

  “I can do this,” she said resolutely.

  She wound down the window, singing, and inhaling the cool night air.

  She stopped off at the small corner-shop and bought her favorite vegetable pies for dinner.

  “Nothing like a good meal for courage, as my granny used to say!”

  Monty welcomed her, and she fed him and then made her own supper. A hearty supper and two cups of coffee later, she discovered that her grandmother was right. A hearty meal did give you courage. And something had given her a plan.

  “Monty,” she addressed the cat, who sat on the floor beside the chair, “I think I have an idea.”

  About what?

  “About how to catch a murderer.”

  Be careful, please, Monty thought back. A murderer sounds dangerous.

  “It is,” Laura swallowed hard.

  Well, Monty thought back, if there's anything I can do...

  Laura swallowed hard, and felt a tear run down her face. “Oh, Monty,” she said.

  She felt scared, but she would not let it stop her. Howard would help. And they had to stop the killer before the killer stopped them.