by Carrie Marsh
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CLARITY
“Laura!”
“Howard...”
Laura opened her door, dreading the thought of the postman and his possibly threatening sheaf of letters. Instead, it was Howard she found on her doorstep, complete with a bunch of tulips and a frown.
“It's...lovely to see you,” Laura breathed. “Come inside!”
“Sorry if I am disturbing you,” Howard demurred, “but I had to share my news with you at once!”
“You are never a disturbance,” Laura said honestly. Howard smiled and she blushed.
“I'm rather exhausted,” Howard mentioned, rolling his shoulders as he loosened his tie and sat down.
“Look at these lovely tulips...” Laura enthused, carrying the bunch into the kitchen as he passed it to her. “I'm sure you're exhausted,” she added, placing the vase on the table and sitting down opposite him. “You want a drink? Coffee, maybe?”
“Coffee?” Howard breathed. “That's the best idea I've ever heard.”
Laura grinned.
“I have so much to tell you,” he began, as Laura said,
“Howard, guess what...”
They grinned at each other.
“Ladies first,” Howard invited, waving a hand encouragingly forward.
“Fine,” Laura smiled. “Okay, well...” She took out her notebook and leaned forward conspiratorially, “...Mr. Ramley worked as some kind of environmental consultant. He was with a place called...Greencentive,” she read, checking the name. “He also,” she added, grinning, “had some documents stolen from his room the day before he died. That means to me that there was a connection between his work and his death – between his work and the motive for killing him, that is.”
“Oh, my...” Howard had gone white.
“What is it, Howard?” Laura asked, holding out a hand with concern.
“Well,” Howard bit his lip. “The trouble is that I just talked to the secretary of Mr. Hogarth – Ken Hogarth, the cousin of our Mr. Hogarth, in London. Mr. Hogarth himself is not in London, at his company. Apparently, he is still in Millerfield, on business. They plan to extend their enterprise to here.”
“What...?” Laura began, brow creased with confusion. Then, “oh.” Because suddenly things looked very clear. Very clear and very sinister.
“Yes,” Howard said, “exactly.”
They sat quietly a moment.
“I found out another thing,” Howard said slowly. “I hadn't wanted to mention it, but now I think I have to...”
“Oh?”
“One of the main neurotoxic poisons is pesticide. Agricultural pesticide.”
“Oh.”
Laura and Howard stared at each other.
Because now they knew who the murderer was. Someone with a motive. Someone who would stand to gain millions from Mr. Ramley's death. And someone who had access to pesticides.
“Oh, crikey,” Laura said, eyes huge.
“Exactly.”
“But what will we do?”
“I have an idea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
TO CATCH A MURDERER
The trees whispered in the night breeze and the air smelled of dew. Laura walked up the path at Hogarth Place, feeling every nerve sparking with tension.
She walked to the front door and knocked.
She waited on the doorstep for about a minute, then knocked again. This time, the door was answered.
“Mrs. Hogarth?”
“There you are!” The sweet face of Noelle Hogarth lit up on seeing Laura, who swallowed hard.
“Sorry it took so long to get here,” Laura explained. “I had to work late, and then I got lost...”
“Oh, dear!” She said sympathetically. “Well, never mind. You're here now. Come inside. Grant is back from his trip, and I'm sure he'd like to talk as well...” she added, already walking to the kitchen to make coffee.
Ten minutes later, Laura was sitting on the settee opposite Farmer Hogarth, chatting mainly to Noelle, from whom she had extracted this opportunity to visit.
“...and I was really interested in your cousin's work! I was sorry to hear he had left for London...this plan for the farm sounds fascinating.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hogarth looked at each other. Mr. Hogarth blinked at her, trying to convey some meaning. Then he turned to Laura.
“It is a pity, yes...” he agreed. “But who told you about anything to do with Millerfield?”
“I...” Laura hesitated. Courage, she told herself. Trust. She swallowed again. “I found out,” she said candidly, “when I was reading through some documents of Nigel Ramley's. He talked to me a lot when he stayed at the hotel, you know...ever such a nice man...”
Mr. and Mrs. Hogarth looked at each other.
“Who's Nigel Ramley, Laura dear?” Noelle asked brightly. Mr. Hogarth tensed, but she did not seem to notice. Laura did.
“He's an environmental consultant,” Laura said honestly. “He was doing some interesting work here, before it was...curtailed.”
“What're you sayin', lass?” Mr. Hogarth asked bluntly.
“Nothing,” Laura said, and smiled genially. Just then her mobile rang. She picked it up, breathing out hard through her nose. It was the signal they had agreed on.
“Hello?”
She listened while Howard told her some rambling story about work starting early tomorrow. Into this he slipped the one piece of crucial information. “Maybe you should leave now?”
“Oh. Yes. Yes. Sure.” Laura agreed effusively.
“Something bad?” Noelle asked, looking concerned.
“Oh, no!” Laura smiled. “...that was a colleague from the hotel. He says we are starting work really early tomorrow – they have a coach party coming in tomorrow morning. Which means,” she said, stifling a yawn, “that I had better leave now. I have some things that need doing before I sleep. Sorry,” she added apologetically.
“Oh, no! Not at all. Not your fault, dear,” Mrs. Hogarth sympathized. “Come on, then. Let me show you out...”
She helped Laura, doing a credible exhausted-act, to the door, and opened it for her.
“Perhaps you could come back later in the week? I wanted to make you my famous apple-pies...”
“Oh!” Laura effused. “That would be lovely. I hope I can,” she added, and then took her leave.
“Right...” she ran briskly down the path. This was the scary bit.
Go to the woods, she thought, following Howard's careful instructions. Make plenty of noise and take a flashlight. Make sure your trail is obvious. Trust me.
It was the last two words that stayed with her as she walked into the woods, waving the flashlight, and making as much noise as possible. Trust me.
“I do trust you,” she said aloud. She prayed her trust was not misplaced.
The woods were alive with sound. Laura, walking along the path, eyes wide open, flashlight waving in bright, distracting arcs, relied on her ears. They fed her information. An owl, hunting in the fields. A car, driving along the main street at the bottom of the hill. The direction of the wind, as it sighed through the leaves above her and chilled her face, ruffling her hair.
Footsteps. Behind her. Walking slowly, but resolutely.
Oh, my...Laura almost stopped. Half of her wanted to curl into a small ball and not move from that spot. The other half wanted to run. She hesitated, blinking in the arc of her own flashlight-beam. Her body ached with the need to run but she held back.
Help, she thought. The footsteps were getting closer.
Walk, she thought. Trust me.
She walked.
Footsteps stopped, then started again. She walked faster, desperate to escape. There was someone in these woods who was a murderer. And they were following her.
She walked forward on legs turned leaden with terror, walked through grass that whispered with the voices of her nightmare. Walked forward with trust. Away from the fast-approaching footsteps.
“Where are you
going, do you think...?” A rough voice said behind her.
A hand descended over her mouth, cutting off her scream. A cold, metallic object pressed against her back. Laura screamed and threw herself forward, trying to get away. She thrashed against the arms that held her, but they were strong. So strong. She tried to bite the hand that slowly choked her, but the man behind her only laughed, grimly, and held on tighter.
“Did you really think I would let you stop me...?” The voice said in her ear. “I've killed someone. Why not you?”
Laura screamed, but no sound came out. She threw herself to the ground, taking him with her. The man behind her rolled over and sat up, still holding her. He turned the blade, so it pressed into her back harder, drawing blood that ran in a warm tide down her shoulder. Laura screamed again.
I am going to die, she thought, terrified. I am going to die. I trusted, and I shouldn't have. And now I am dead.
Suddenly, the bushes were alive with motion. Something launched itself out of the trees and fell on the man, screaming hoarsely in no language Laura had ever heard.
A few well-aimed kicks and thumps freed Laura, and somehow, at some point, the knife changed hands.
“If you will stand very still? Ah, good...” the calm, rational voice of Dr. Lucas spoke into the whispering evening.
Laura felt her heart soar with happiness. Then she fainted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
COMING RIGHT
Laura sat on the sofa in her cottage, wrapped in a blanket, coffee between her hands. She felt weak all over, but she was relieved.
“Monty,” she murmured.
Yes? Monty jumped up to sit on her knee, and walked in a circle, making himself comfortable.
“We solved the case. And,” she smiled, stroking his head, “I couldn't have done it without you.”
Really? She could hear the surprise in his thoughts.
“Yes,” she smiled. “You and Keillor gave me the news I needed.”
At that, she felt the cat actually smile. Good, he thought back to her.
At that moment, Laura heard a knock on the door.
Keillor might be living with me, Monty confided smugly. And it seems like that is your new friend outside the door...
“It is?”
Yes. Only he taps that rhythm on the door. Monty walked off and she heard him jump onto the bed. Laura opened the door, and sighed heavily, relieved to see Howard there.
“Hi,” he said shyly.
“Hi.”
Laura and he looked at each other, and then she embraced him. He embraced her.
They made coffee and sat together on the sofa drinking it.
“...and so the police have him now.” Howard concluded his side of events.
“Good.” Laura said, shuddering. “Will they hold him?”
“Well, I told them they should, and that they might want to look into his business dealings in connection with the murder. They were interested. Very interested, I can tell you...”
“So Agrimark won't get the land after all?”
“Well,” he sighed, and blew steam off the surface of the teacup he held, “with Ken Hogarth in prison, possibly facing a murder charge, I think the plan is likely to be halted. Don't you?” He smiled at her.
“I guess...” Laura agreed slowly. She drank some more coffee. It did not do much to alleviate the pain in her head, but the warmth was welcome.
She looked across at Howard, where he sat, silhouetted against the first rays of light. He looked so handsome, she thought, and felt her stomach clench with a kind of delight. She grinned and looked down, uncertainly.
“So, we did help complete Mr. Ramley's work,” Laura added.
“To save the forested lands on Hogarth's farm? Yes.” Howard agreed.
That was, they had discovered, the deal Ken Hogarth had been trying to broker, and had killed to protect. Part of Hogarth Place, his cousin's farm, joined a large woodland area. Ken Hogarth's plan had been to buy the land from his cousin, and to take out the entire woodland, to make a huge orchard, part of Agrimark's apple-growing projects in the region.
Nigel Ramley had made a study showing that the removal of the woodland would have devastating impact on the local ecosystem. The study had been what was stolen from his briefcase the morning before he died.
“There's still one piece I don't know,” Laura mused. “How did he do it?”
Howard smiled. “I was saving that as a surprise.”
“Oh?”
“Remember the neurotoxin I told you about?”
“Yes...?”
“The insecticide Triclorfon is powerfully neurotoxic. And guess what I found in the shed on the farm?”
“Oh, no...” Laura clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Yes. I can bet that the ghost was somewhere in those sheds...”
“It was!” Laura said, horrified. She set her coffee down carefully, and gazed at him with round eyes.
“And,” Howard continued, “the ghost turned up in the kitchens, didn't it...?”
“Oh, my...” Laura felt sick. “It did.”
“So. Ken Hogarth didn't even have to think about it. All he had to do was steal insecticide from his cousin, and introduce it to the guest's food. Not all in one go, of course...the problem is it's cumulative. If they could have gotten it in at breakfast, lunch, and supper, he would have had enough on board to wipe him out that evening, and probably wouldn't have tasted it.”
“Oh...” Laura said, feeling ill with shock.
“Exactly.” Howard agreed.
They sat silently for a while. Laura felt a lump forming in her throat.
“I wanted to thank you...” she said slowly.
“Mm?”
“You saved my life out there, and I...”
“Of course I did!” Howard looked shocked. “How could I not, Laura?”
He looked into her eyes and she did not look away. Slowly, he set his teacup down and came to sit opposite her, seating himself on the coffee table. He took her hands in his.
“Laura,” he said softly. “I have to tell you something. I love you.”
Laura stared at him.
“Oh...” she murmured. She could feel tears pricking in her eyes, threatening to flood forward at any minute. “Oh, Howard...I love you, too!” She said in a small voice. She leaned forward then and placed her arms around his neck.
“I love you so very much,” she said, voice muffled against his chest.
“I love you too,” he said into her hair.
They pulled apart, breath strained.
“You know,” Howard said after a long moment, “I think I would enjoy working with you on this sort of thing in future.”
Laura felt her heart light up, and smiled. “I would love that, too!” She breathed.
“But,” Howard said seriously, “I don't think we should tell anyone.”
“No,” Laura agreed.
“Now, we are anonymous. And that is a huge advantage. As it is, that man knowing you were investigating him caused you grave danger. No,” he reinforced, “anonymity is a great strength.”
Laura nodded. “I agree.” Then she laughed. “Dr. H. Lucas and L. Howcroft – Cottage Detectives.”
Howard put his head back and laughed. “I like it.”
She grinned.
“But,” he added, more serious, “I think it would be better if we stayed concealed, at least for a while. Safer that way.”
“I agree,” Laura said, still smiling.
Together they sat in the sitting room of her cottage and watched the sun rise. Any mysteries in Millerfield, Laura thought dreamily, bring them on.
They were together. They loved each other. They were ready for anything.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carrie Marsh writes cozy mysteries and suspense novels, along with occasional blog post on her website. Her objective is to entertain, and amuse people that reads her books. Her approach is to combine witty ideas with excellent writing skills.
&
nbsp; She is lives in Florida, USA. When she's not writing, she likes to take long walks with her dog observing the world around her. Her inspirations of her stories come from these long walks.
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ALSO BY CARRIE MARSH
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Acknowledgement
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Publisher’s Notes
This book is copyright © 2017 by CARRIE MARSH & SMILING HOUSE PUBLISHING CO.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real or dead people, places, or events are not intentional and are the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. 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, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author/publisher. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
