Paying Back The Dead (A Millerfield Village Cozy Murder Mysteries Series 3)

by Carrie Marsh

  Janet went pink and her face softened. “You're just saying that,” she said, her voice gentle.

  “No,” Laura said, “I'm not. There's something about Imogen Weston I don't quite trust.”

  There was. Laura could not put her finger on what it was, but the woman was quiet, aloof and somehow mysterious. She wanted to find out more. But for now, she already had a suspect to investigate and she mentally revised her list. Brandon Hugh: Motive: Jealousy. Or money. Not sure which yet. Tomorrow, I will have to find out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THINGS GET DIFFICULT

  THINGS GET DIFFICULT

  “Oh, damn!”

  Laura did not usually swear, but driving home from work in the sudden rain-storm was enough to try even her mildness.

  She skidded on a puddle, swerving around the corner. Someone hooted. She swore.

  It was ten o' clock at night and dark. She had spent most of the day on her feet, helping Bethany. That evening she had worked a little late, trying to get as much done as possible before dropping in to visit Janet. As it was, she did not know if she would make it across town to see her anyhow: the rain was pouring down, sluicing the street and reducing visibility.

  “Watch it!” Laura screamed, as a car darted out on the main road, almost colliding with her. She just had time to slam on the brakes, staring in horror as the car glided past inches from her. She noticed a blond-haired man at the wheel, and a dark-haired woman with red lipstick, who looked across at Laura, shouting in alarm.

  Laura carried on across the street, then pulled over, shaking hard. She was desperately cold, and her nerves were paper-thin. She covered her face with her hands and started crying.

  As if a murder isn't bad enough! Now I'm almost in an accident, and I'm still feeling shaky after that man's rudeness yesterday...

  The bright spot of Howard's cheerful messaging which had carried on for most of the morning could not really cheer her up. She was shivering and cold and miserable.

  She sat a while, allowing herself to calm down and then headed cautiously onto the main road.

  When she reached home the rain was already slackening, though the report said that it would carry on and that the bridge across the hollow connecting the side of the village she lived to that where Janet was, was flooding.

  I'd do better to stay here tonight, she decided, and texted Janet. She'll manage to find an outfit for her outing with the actress without me.

  As she finished messaging her, she realised why the woman in the car had seemed familiar. It was Imogen Weston, wasn't it? It had certainly looked like her. Laura wondered idly what she had been doing in a car in the road in the middle of the night. Then she remembered she had not attended at lunch-time. Probably had some business in the village, she thought, shaking her head. She wondered who the man was – he looked vaguely familiar too, now that she thought of it – but she dismissed it from her mind. Monty was walking about in the bedroom, and she had to feed him.

  “Supper?” she called to Monty.

  Almost, he said, sounding quite enthused. At least by Monty standards, he was. Laura smiled.

  “There's still some tuna left,” she said, reaching for a tin that lurked on the edge of the cupboard. He shot through and sat down beside his bowl.

  When Laura had prepared something for him and for herself, she went briskly through to her bedroom. I need to get out of these wet shoes and into something dry. She couldn't find her shoes, and went through to her study, thinking she might have forgotten them in there.

  At the door, she stopped.

  The window was open. Laura never left the study window open. And that was not the only difference.

  The room was a mess. Files lay on the table, a box of books thrown onto the floor, stray bills and accounts scattered from her in-tray to lie in disarray on the floor.

  “Oh, my...” Laura whispered. Her whole body was rigid with terror. She wanted to run, but she couldn't. She wanted to shout, but she couldn't. Someone had clearly burgled her. What if they were still in the house?

  “Monty?” she managed, though it was a croak rather than a call.

  Yes? Monty asked, sounding quite content where he sat in the kitchen, finishing his tuna.

  “Was there someone in the house?”

  Was there? Monty sounded instantly alert. He came stalking through to see where she was. He stopped beside her in the doorway and stared at the scene before them. He looked up at her.

  “I know,” Laura said softly. She felt as worried as he did. As frightened. “I'm also scared.”

  Call someone? He asked.

  Laura nodded. Willing herself to walk out of the room, she reached the hallway and dug in her handbag for her phone. She searched for the number.

  “Howard?”

  “Yes?” Howard asked. He sounded very mellow, and happy to hear from her. That fact made her feel a little happier, a small light thawing the ice in her heart.

  “I need your help,” Laura said in a small voice.

  “Laura? What is it? What..?”

  “Someone has been in my house.”

  He was quiet for a second, but when he replied his voice was firm. “Stay right where you are. I'm on my way.”

  Laura leaned against the front door, sliding down to sit on the welcome mat. Monty joined her. Together they sat and waited for him to arrive.

  “Why did they look everywhere?” Laura asked herself aloud. If it was a normal housebreaker, they would have grabbed the obvious things – her laptop, her phone. The radio in the bedroom, maybe. Why had they not gone anywhere else in the house? If they had, surely they would have taken other things, ransacked other rooms? Why search just there?

  Laura stood and, shakily, lifted the shovel from behind the door. Holding it in case she needed it as a weapon, she walked slowly through the house, Monty beside her.

  There was no sign of anyone in the bedroom. Laura checked under the bed, in the cupboards, behind the long curtains. No-one. And the phone was there, the radio. Her jewellery-box. No-one had seemingly even looked in the cupboards. Nothing.

  She looked around the bathroom, the sitting-room, the kitchen. Nothing missing. Everything was just as she had left it. Only the study was in disarray.

  And even there, nothing was missing. That was the odd thing. Her laptop was exactly where she had left it, on her desk. There was nothing missing from the drawers or the cabinet. If someone had searched, they would have found an envelope of bills Laura saved up to pay for her monthly expenses. But even that was there.

  I don't understand this.

  She walked miserably through to the sitting-room, feeling cold and shocked. Just then she heard something.

  She stiffened. There was a noise coming from the kitchen. She turned and, leaning on her shovel, called out loudly.

  “Come out, bastard! I've called the police. You won't get away with this.”

  Her voice wavered into silence. A moment later, Howard appeared.

  “Laura?” He asked, incredulous. She had raised the shovel and was clearly ready to lash it across him.

  “Howard!” Laura said, and sat down heavily, feeling tears of relief run down her cheeks. “I am so glad you're here!”

  “I don't think you needed me, actually,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “In fact, I'm lucky the light was left on, or you might have killed me.”

  Laura chuckled, though it had a slightly-wild edge. “Howard! Of course I wouldn't have killed you.”

  “You might have,” he countered, teasingly. “If it was dark you'd have finished me off before you knew who it was!”

  Laura blinked, despite the terror earlier. What if it was an accident when Mr. Hugh was killed? It was a possibility she had never considered. If the bank was dark, and someone was there, waiting to kill...her mind abruptly stopped working.

  Howard had bent down and was holding her, kissing her brow.

  “Laura! My poor, brave woman. Where did these people break in? Show me.”

>   Laura sniffed and laughed a little shakily. “It's okay, Howard. I'm okay. They didn't do anything...” she trailed off.

  Standing together, they walked towards the study. Howard stood at the edge of it and looked in, surveying the chaos. He dropped to one knee, squinting at the mat. He didn't touch it.

  “I think you should maybe call the police,” he said after a moment. “I know you might not want to,” he smiled, “after all – Browne is not a particularly easy fellow to deal with – but you need to.”

  Laura swallowed. The thought of an intruder in her home was not much better than the thought of Browne. “I know I should,” she said evenly.

  “Yes, you should,” Howard said. “Whether or not you will, I don't know. But I do know you shouldn't be here alone.”

  Laura looked up at him, eyes wide. Despite the gravity of the situation, her heart pounded.

  “No,” she said frankly. “No, I shouldn't.”

  Together they walked into her bedroom.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

  A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

  “Laura!” Janet exclaimed.

  Laura looked up from where she sat behind her desk in the foyer of the hotel. She ran a hand across her tired eyes and sighed. She had barely slept at all that night: not just because of Howard, but because of the tension and fear as well.

  “Janet! Hi.”

  “Thank Heaven you're safe!” Janet said dramatically. She patted her shoulder. “I was so worried. What with the flooding and everything – the news said that the lower half of the village was threatened...when you texted to say you couldn't make it, I thought you might have been affected...” her voice trailed off.

  Laura smiled. “I'm okay, Jay. The garden is a bit wet, but nothing bad. It wasn't the flooding that bothered me.”

  “What happened?” Janet asked, instantly concerned.

  “Nothing,” Laura said, biting her lip. She wasn't sure if she should mention to Janet what had happened. Until she knew who had broken in and why she was reluctant to let anyone know. “I just had a bad scare, is all,” she said uncertainly.

  “I can imagine!” Janet said quickly. “The thought of flooding is terrifying. And the roads are so dangerous when that happens...so many people had accidents!”

  “I'm sure,” said Laura quietly, remembering her own near-accident. “It's easy to slip in the damp.”

  “Yes!” Janet said dramatically. “So many hooligans on the road, driving fast despite the rain!”

  At that moment, Imogen Weston appeared in the dining-room. She gave them both a hooded stare.

  “Imogen!” Janet said cheerily. “Join us. I'm sure you know Laura?” she waved towards Laura, who smiled neutrally and held out a hand. “We were just talking about the terrible weather. People can drive so carelessly when it rains!” Janet said.

  “Yes, they can,” the woman said thinly. “I nearly had an accident myself yesterday.”

  Her accent was perfect – Cambridge English, as it should be spoken. Laura stared.

  “You did?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

  “Yes,” the woman continued coolly. “On the part where Gracewell street reaches the main road...I was driving, and someone almost leaped out at me from a side-street! It was terrifying!”

  Laura blinked. So the woman was Imogen Weston. “At about ten p.m.?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “Yes,” Imogen said coolly. “I think it was around then, now you mention it. Why, may I ask?”

  Laura swallowed. “No reason. It was just...it was raining hard then.”

  “Yes!” Janet said emphatically. “Just when I was leaving work. It must have been bad when you did, too, Laura.”

  “Yes, it was,” Laura said carefully. She looked up at Imogen but she was looking at her hands. If she knew Laura had nearly collided with her, she wasn't about to say anything.

  They chatted idly a while, then Imogen excused herself and went to sit down at the table that had been reserved for her. Janet ran back to reception a moment later, hearing the bell on the front desk chiming.

  It was only after they had gone that Laura realised something. The woman she had seen was sitting on the left-hand side of the car. The passenger side.

  Imogen had nearly been in an accident – that was true. But she had not been driving.

  “Oh,” Laura said in a small voice. There were two possible explanations – either the woman had meant “I was driving”, in a figurative way, or she had meant not to mention whoever was. The man Laura had seen.

  I wonder, she thought.

  At that moment, her phone made a message noise. She reached for her handbag, scrabbling through it to find the device, which invariably went missing the moment there were important calls. She pulled it out and was surprised by the author of the message.

  “I wonder what Judy wants to tell me?” she asked aloud. She probably wouldn't be able to make it that weekend.

  Laura opened the message and was surprised. It said: Police coming to search house. I'm scared. Come and sit with me? J.

  Laura swallowed. The thought of Judy being afraid was too much to take in – all her life the woman had seemed solid and fearless, a pillar of strength. She was scared of the police? And she was asking for Laura to help her?

  Laura sent back a message. At lunch-service. When are they coming? I'll be there.

  The reply was almost instant. At 2. Thank you. J.

  Laura breathed out. If she hurried, and she finished the clean up after lunch quickly, she could be there by two. She had to make it. Cousin Judy needed her to be there.

  Fortunately the dining-room was much less crowded than usual, and the tidy-up was finished by one-thirty. Laura hastily brushed her hair and headed for the front desk.

  “Jay?” she called.

  “Yes?”

  “Family emergency. Will you keep an eye on things for me? I'll be back by dinner. Promise.”

  Janet blinked, clearly wondering what family Laura was talking about, but nodded in agreement. “Of course.”

  “Thank you!” Laura called gratefully over her shoulder and ran for the car. As she drove the short distance between the hotel and Judy's home, she wondered why the police were searching Judy's house. She knew that even she had considered her as a suspect – still did, in fact – but the thought of searching a widow's house two weeks after her husband's death was horrid. Poor woman! The last thing she needs is invasive police-personnel, running all over her house, ransacking her things. As if losing someone wasn't bad enough without constantly reminding people of the fact.

  “Here we are!” she drew up outside the house, noticing at once that it was a very pretty cottage. The garden was well-kept, the lawn trim and the pathways weeded. The walls were painted a shade of cream that must need a repaint every year to keep that whiteness, and trees overhung the place, well-trimmed and tidy.

  It's a lovely house, she thought to herself. Neat, tidy and quite extensive, one thing she could easily tell was that Mr. Hugh had money. If the village had “neighborhoods”, then this is the best. It was something attested to by the green tranquility, the large gardens and the elegant homes.

  Laura opened the white-painted wooden gate and walked lightly to the front door. She heard someone pulling back the bolts, turning a key.

  “Laura!” Judy said, looking up at her from her slightly-shorter height. Laura smiled and put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

  “Hello.”

  She looked down at the woman, thinking with a shock how gaunt she looked. She seemed to have shrunk on herself, her face pained and her eyes frightened. Even her red hair looked lackluster. Laura felt a stab of compassion for the older woman and was pleased she could be there to help. Whatever I think, I don't want her to come to any harm, she decided. She did not know what she would do if she were to find out Judy was in fact responsible for the death.

  “Laura. Thank you for coming...” Judy looked up at her, vo
ice trailing off. “They're not here yet,” she added decidedly. “If you'll come and join me in the sitting-room?”

  “Of course,” Laura said, allowing Judy to lead her through the elegant house with its white carpets and artworks to the sofa. She settled down on it and waited for Judy to sit down next to her.

  “I made some tea, and there's brownies to go with it,” Judy said hesitantly. Laura thanked her and took a delicate china cup of tea. She looked about the house, noticing that Judy's imposing presence looked somewhat out-of-place.

  “Are you okay?” Laura asked, then felt a little trite. “I mean, you're keeping well?” she asked. Judy was slightly grayish in pallor and she did not look well, wheezing as she sat down, out of breath.

  “I'm okay,” Judy said hesitantly. “Of course, I'm not, not really. But I'll survive it.” She grinned, though her eyes were still miserable.

  “Anytime you need anything,” Laura said gently, “just call me. Okay?”

  “Thank you, Laura.”

  “Not at all.”

  They sat and drank tea and talked and Laura felt herself suddenly nostalgic for her own family. Her mother looked nothing like Judy, but there was a similarity in how they acted, and Laura felt instantly protective of her.

  At two o' clock the doorbell rang. Judy and Laura stiffened.

  “Right,” Judy said, bravely. She stood up and marched resolutely to the door.

  Laura nodded. “I'm not letting you go anywhere alone,” she said kindly. Judy smiled back at her, her eyes damp.

  “Thank you.”

  Together they marched into the hallway and answered the door.

  When Laura saw who was there she wished she was at work. Inspector Browne stood there, with two officers with him. Neither man was anyone she knew. She saw him raise a brow and swallowed.

  “Miss Howcroft, is it?” he said with a superior look on his face that Laura wished she could wipe off, preferably with sandpaper.

  “Yes,” she said thinly.

  “I have a warrant to search this property,” he said firmly. “Though I suppose you were here doing just that, Ms. Inspector?”