by K E O'Connor
“There are no details about what the loan was for,” I said. “But everything is signed for, so it looks like it went through.”
“Dexter Sellers,” said Helen as she read from her screen. “He’s in the same business as Archie was. He’s a movie producer. But I can’t see a list of any successful movies he's produced.”
“Perhaps Archie was investing in a new production,” I said.
“This is interesting,” said Helen. “Dexter is something of a player. There are articles about him dating lots of women and spending time in Las Vegas. There’s even mention of a drugs charge in the papers.”
“Could Dexter have gotten into some kind of trouble and this loan was to help bail him out?”
“From the amount of time he spent in expensive looking clubs, the money could have been to pay any one of a number of bar bills,” said Helen. “There are loads of pictures of him with famous models and actresses. I bet he spent money on them.”
There was a knock at the cottage door, and I hopped up to answer it, thinking it was Zach back from his mission with Ben. I was surprised to see Meredith standing outside, with a large wicker hamper over one arm.
“I wanted to bring you something to welcome you to the household.” Meredith held the basket out to me. “I put it together myself. There are home-made treats in there for you.”
“That’s kind of you,” I said. “Why don’t you come in? I was just thinking of having some tea.”
“I don’t want to disturb you.” Meredith poked her head into the cottage. “And it looks like you’re about to go to bed.”
“It’s no trouble.” I pulled my pink dressing gown tightly around my waist. Perhaps Meredith had some useful information about Dexter and his relationship to Archie that she’d be willing to share with us.
“I won’t stay for long.” Meredith walked into the cottage. “I don’t like to leave Juliette on her own.”
“Isn’t Ben at home?” asked Helen with a smile.
“Yes, but he was busy chatting to the new gardener,” said Meredith as she eyed Helen’s bright red pajamas covered in penguins with obvious disgust. “Ben can get so excited about almost any subject. And when he does, he gets forgetful about Mrs. Musgrave’s needs. The poor love is still fragile after losing Mr. Musgrave.”
“You’ve not met before,” I said to Helen. “This is Meredith Green, the household’s cook.”
Helen smiled and nodded at Meredith. “I do all the cooking here. But I bet it’s not as good as yours.” Helen leaned forward and inspected the contents of the hamper I held.
“I’m sure it’s not. I’m known for my cakes in the village. I win the best sponge cake every year at the village show,” said Meredith.
Helen raised her eyebrows and smiled at me discreetly. “Sounds amazing. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
“That’s an ancient family secret I never share,” said Meredith curtly. “But I might make you a cake one day, when I’m not too busy looking after the family.”
“I look forward to it,” said Helen brightly. “I’ll make the tea.” She hopped up and left the lounge.
I sat back on the sofa and Meredith sat next to me. “How long have you worked with the family?”
“Mr. Musgrave hired me just after he married Juliette,” said Meredith, “so ten years.”
“You must have seen a few goings-on in that time,” I said.
“The household has its moments.” Meredith gave me a narrow-eyed glare. “What’s your experience with administration?”
“I’ve worked my whole career as a personal assistant,” I said. Maybe if I revealed some information about myself, Meredith might open up a little. So far, she was being too frosty for my liking. “I started out with small jobs, a few weeks here and there. But then I was hired for a year to work with Lord Hunter in Devon. After that, I discovered how much I love doing this sort of work, keeping everything organized and on top of the paperwork, that sort of thing.”
“Much like my work in the kitchen,” said Meredith. “I like having everything in its proper place and keeping things on schedule. Organization is the key to everything.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I extracted a bottle of sherry from the hamper. “Perhaps we could have a glass of this alongside our tea?”
Meredith sniffed. “I don’t normally drink.”
“Just a tiny drink to welcome us to the household.” I noticed how Meredith’s eyes were focused on the bottle in my hand.
“A small one won’t hurt,” said Meredith.
I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed three sherry glasses from the cupboard.
“Meredith seems a bit straight-laced,” said Helen quietly as she poured boiling water into the teapot. “And I bet my sponge cake would beat hers, no matter how good she thinks hers is.”
“I bet it would.” I smiled at Helen. “But she's been here for years, and I bet she knows all sorts of interesting things about the people in this household. And she might know something about Dexter.” I held up one of the sherry glasses. “A few sherries might loosen her tongue.”
Helen grinned at me. “Great idea.” She followed me back into the living room and set the tea tray on the table as I poured out the sherry, making sure to give Meredith a big measure.
I held up my sherry glass. “To good health and new friendships.”
Meredith nodded as she raised her own glass. “Health and friends and family.”
“Cheers to all that,” said Helen.
I took a sip from my glass. The sherry was eye wateringly sweet, and I had to suppress the urge to spit it back. However, Meredith downed half her glass, so I refilled it before she could protest.
“Lorna was saying you’ve been in the household a long time,” said Helen as she poured out the tea and passed the cups round. “You must like it here to have stayed for such a long time.”
“I like the family,” said Meredith. “And I do enjoy cooking. It can be hard to find a place you can make your own. But the family is obliging and allows me to run the kitchen as I see fit. Therefore, I stay.”
“I’m the same,” said Helen. “I like to look after my own kitchen. But I can make a terrible mess when the creative cooking spirit takes over.”
“I always clean as I go,” said Meredith.
“I wish I was so organized,” said Helen. “If you ever get any stains on tablecloths or spill anything when cooking that you need assistance with, just ask me for help. I love the challenge of getting difficult stains out of things.”
“I don’t make a habit of spilling my cooking,” said Meredith.
“No, I imagine you don’t.” Helen raised her eyebrows at me. “But the offer is there.”
Meredith gave a nod. “Do you think you'll both like it here?”
“So far, it’s interesting work,” I said. “I’m getting to know about Juliette’s businesses and how the household is run.”
“Mrs. Musgrave didn’t have much to do with the business side of things until recently,” said Meredith. “Mr. Musgrave dealt with that. Now Ben is here, I’m not sure what’s happening. Let’s hope he’s not making a muddle of things.”
“Ben seems capable enough to me,” said Helen.
“Ben is a sweet boy.” Condescension dripped from Meredith’s words. “But he’s no Mr. Musgrave. He really knew how to manage things.”
I refilled Meredith’s glass again. “You must know many of Archie’s business associates.”
“Mr. Musgrave didn’t discuss business with me directly,” said Meredith. “That wouldn’t have been appropriate. But he was always generous with his associates. They often dined here, so I got to know their preferences and how they liked their meals.”
“Do you know Dexter Sellers?” I asked.
“What do you know of him?” asked Meredith sharply.
“He was mentioned in several of Archie’s business letters,” I said. “Seems as if he was tied up in a lot of things. I wondered if they were close.”
“Not
in a way I approved of.” Meredith took a gulp of sherry. “I don’t like to gossip, but he’s a bad lot. And I believe he wasn’t honest with Mr. Musgrave.”
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
“Mr. Sellers was here a lot and was always charming when anybody was around. But when he’d been drinking, he had a temper on him. And when Mr. Musgrave challenged him about a business matter on one occasion, they almost came to blows. I remember it well. I was passing the study door at the time and heard raised voices.”
I doubted Meredith had been accidentally passing; she was most likely listening through the keyhole. “They almost fought? Was it over money?”
“Most likely,” said Meredith. “Mr. Sellers wasn’t in the same social class as Mr. Musgrave, although he liked to pretend he was. He spent above his means regularly. I remember Mr. Musgrave giving gifts to his friend. I think he felt sorry for him because he didn’t have his assets. Mr. Musgrave was a successful man. If it had been me, I wouldn’t have given him a penny. I didn’t trust Mr. Sellers.”
“More sherry?” I asked Meredith, happy to see it was having the right effect on her.
She held out her empty glass. “And I think Mr. Sellers stole from Mr. Musgrave.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Helen.
“Mr. Musgrave lost a wristwatch. It was one of his favorites. He had us all searching for it for hours, trying to find this watch,” said Meredith. “But none of us had any luck. A few weeks later, I spotted an identical watch on Mr. Sellers’ wrist. I didn’t like to ask him about it, but I am sure it was the missing watch.”
“Maybe Archie gave it to Dexter?” suggested Helen.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Meredith shook her head. “If he’d given it to Mr. Sellers, he would have remembered, and he wouldn’t have had us looking for it. It was an expensive watch too. It must have cost well over five thousand pounds.”
“That’s a lot of money to spend on one watch.” I could buy a whole wardrobe of clothes, and a new wardrobe, with that amount of money.
“Mr. Musgrave liked the finer things in life.” Meredith eyed my pink dressing gown again.
“But they were friends?” I asked Meredith. “They hadn’t had a falling out recently?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” said Meredith. “Why are you so interested in Mr. Sellers anyway? What is he to you?”
“Oh, nothing, just curious about him,” I said. “He appears in so much correspondence relating to Archie’s business that I wanted to make sure I knew about their relationship properly.”
“You won’t be having anything to do with Mr. Sellers.” Meredith gave an enormous hiccup and patted her stomach. “Now Mr. Musgrave has passed, there’s no reason for Mr. Sellers to be around.”
“I may need to contact him to finalize Archie’s business affairs,” I said.
“Then my advice to you is make your interactions with him short,” said Meredith. “He's not a pleasant person. It’s a good thing he’s out of this family’s life.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I said.
Meredith finished her third glass of sherry and stifled a burp behind one hand. “I must be going. I need to write out the meal plans for next week.” As she stood, she staggered to one side and grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself. Maybe I shouldn’t have given her quite so much sherry.
“Thanks again for the hamper,” I said as I showed Meredith to the door. “It was lovely of you.”
“My pleasure.” Meredith gave another hiccup.
I said goodbye to her and shut the door before turning to Helen. “Sounds like we need to check out this Dexter guy. He was up to no good when he was involved with Archie.”
“Yes, time to add him to the list of suspects,” said Helen.
I looked round the cottage, half expecting to see Archie’s ghost lurking in one corner, but he was absent. “He's as good a suspect as any. And the more I discover about our ghost, the more I realize that Archie Musgrave was not a popular man.”
Chapter 8
I was working alone in the orangery, with only Flipper for company. Juliette had gone for a lie down after a nasty headache had come on. I’d already gone through all of the unopened letters and was finally getting my head around Archie’s strange filing system.
I also had several files to look through and remove any out of date paperwork, and a list of replies to send to party invitations on Juliette’s behalf. She was not going to any of them.
It was pleasant working in the orangery. I sat in one light-filled corner. A desk had been set up that looked out over the gardens, giving me a wonderful view of the grounds. A shy thrush hopped backwards and forwards between the potted plants, seeking tasty treats, and a plump robin shot out from under the bushes and grabbed something from the lawn.
“Settling in okay?”
I turned to see Fleur leaning against the doorway, dressed in fitted black trousers and a red shirt.
“Yes, thanks,” I said.
“This isn’t such a terrible place to live, if you ignore Juliette.” Fleur sauntered into the room and sat in a chair by the table. “Although I expect you can’t do that, given she pays your wages.”
“Juliette seems nice enough to me,” I said.
“On the surface, she seems nice.” Fleur tipped the chair back and rested her heels on the table. “But if she doesn’t get her way, she can turn into a right spiteful cow. Archie was thoroughly sick of her.”
I set down the paperwork in my hand and gave Fleur my full attention. “They didn’t get along?”
“Not for a second. She was always bitching about how he spent his money,” said Fleur. “But that was the thing; it was his money to spend. He worked long hours to earn it. That gave my brother the right to do what he liked with it.”
“Yes, I guess it did,” I said. “So their marriage wasn’t a happy one?”
“Juliette preferred to stay at home, and Archie was always one for going out to all the fun parties,” said Fleur. “I didn’t mind that. When Juliette refused to go with him, Archie would take me along instead. We’d go to movie premieres, opening night parties, things like that. It was such fun. I don’t get much of that now he’s gone.”
“It is so sad the way he died,” I said.
“It’s sad and not right,” said Fleur. “Archie was an amazing horse rider. We had ponies since we were five years old. And as soon as Archie could, he got a real horse. He would always gallop off and leave me behind.”
“But horses do get spooked,” I said. “And if the rider is unprepared, they can fall off. Even an experienced rider.”
“Not Archie.” Fleur shook her head. “He was brilliant on a horse. He had a way with them. He could calm any frightened animal.” She looked over to where Flipper snored quietly in the corner of the room.
“You sound as if you don’t think his fall was an accident?” It was a risky question to ask, but I wanted to see whether Fleur was just sounding off because she was angry with Juliette or knew something more about how Archie died.
“I don’t think it was an accident,” said Fleur quietly.
“What makes you say that?” I leaned towards Fleur.
She dropped the chair back onto four legs and stood. “Come with me. I’ve got something to show you. It will make you question things just like I am. After what I tell you, you might decide not to stay here anymore. I know I’d leave if I could.”
I shuffled the papers in front of me into some sort of order, eager to find out what Fleur was talking about. Flipper woke up and stretched, as if he sensed the possibility of a walk. We followed Fleur out of the orangery, and she led us along the hallway into the billiards room. It was a large open plan space, with several gaming tables, a number of comfortable looking leather armchairs, and a drinks cabinet stocked with every alcoholic drink you could desire.
“What do you want to show me?” I asked her.
“These trophies.” Fleur pointed to a wall covered in ce
rtificates, medals, and trophies of various sizes. “Archie was a great sportsman and so competitive. Whatever he did, he needed to be the best at it, horse riding included.”
I inspected some of the trophies and medals. There were medals for shooting, rowing, skiing, and horse riding. “That’s a lot of trophies.”
“You see, Archie was good at everything he did. He wouldn’t have fallen off his horse,” said Fleur.
“But horrible accidents do happen,” I said softly.
“Archie knew how to fall and not be hurt,” said Fleur. “We had a great riding instructor when we were growing up, who taught us what to do if we were ever thrown off our horse. It’s impossible for him to have simply fallen and broken his neck in the way he did.”
“So what do you think happened to him?”
Fleur shook her head. “Follow me.”
“Where are we going now?”
“I’m taking you outside.”
I was torn between finding out what Fleur had to show me and not abandoning my work. “Maybe when I've finished my tasks for the day.”
“Juliette’s boring letters can wait,” said Fleur. “This is much more important.”
I had to agree, so I followed Fleur. She was so convinced Archie's death was not an accident. Maybe she knew something about Dexter’s involvement with Archie. We walked round to the side of the house and over towards the stables.
“You’re showing me your horse?” I asked Fleur.
“Not my horse,” said Fleur. “Although I have three stabled here. But the horse that threw Archie is still here. He’s a big old beast of a thing.”
“I’m surprised you kept him.” I imagined seeing the animal that had a part in her brother’s death must be difficult.
“Juliette wanted to have him shot, but I refused,” said Fleur. “It wasn’t the horse’s fault. I’m the only one who rides him now.” We stopped by a stable door, and an enormous black head poked through the opening.
“He’s a handsome boy.” I held my hand out for the horse to snuffle against. His soft nose nudged my fingers for a few seconds before turning to do the same to Fleur.
“He’s magnificent,” said Fleur. “I adore horses. His name is Brutus. When we first got him, he was a bit of a brute. He didn’t like to be ridden, other than by Archie. But over time, he’s mellowed. Now, I can easily handle him.”
