Murderous Mayhem at Honeychurch Hall

by Hannah Dennison

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” said a voice I recognized. “You’ll be okay in a minute. Really you will.”

  Exhausted, I leaned back on the chair. The bucket had gone. I heard the flush of a loo and running water.

  I was in my sitting room at Jane’s Cottage. As my eyes struggled to focus, a figure returned with the bucket.

  It was Jess.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  I looked to her in confusion. “What are you doing here? What happened? I was in the church.” I tried to remember, but my mind couldn’t form the thoughts. “Did I pass out?”

  Jess nodded. “Are you able to stand up?”

  I tried to, but the room began to spin, and again I felt excruciatingly nauseous, reached for the bucket and threw up again. “I feel terrible. Can I have some water? God. Is this what a migraine feels like?”

  “Wait there.” Jess disappeared into the galley kitchen and returned with a glass of water. “Drink this.”

  I felt marginally better, and slowly everything began to come back to me and I remembered seeing Jazzbo Jenkins in the Parish chest.

  “Was it you who took all those things, Jess?”

  She just looked at me with those large eyes in her elfin face and shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I was going to put them back. I was only borrowing them. Having a bit of fun.”

  I regarded her with growing dismay. “So it was you who stole the Jumeau and then put it back?”

  Jess’s eyes widened. She looked scared. “How do you know about that?”

  “Because your husband brought it to me for a valuation.”

  “Aubrey knows?” All the color drained from Jess’s face. “I don’t believe you! You’re lying!”

  “How else would I have known?”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That’s she’s very valuable,” I said. “You’d never be able to sell her. She’s one of a kind.”

  “Sell? Why would I sell? I told you. I just borrow stuff. I always put it back eventually.” Jess raked her fingers through her short hair. “What did Aubrey say when you told him?”

  “He told me it belonged to his first wife.”

  “His first wife?” I could see Jess trying to process this bombshell. She suddenly brightened. “That means he doesn’t mind,” she said firmly. “He knows and he doesn’t mind.”

  I thought it more a case of the local magistrate avoiding a scandal, but Jess’s erratic behavior was alarming. The odd assortment of treasure was peculiar as well.

  And then I remembered Muriel’s pink Croc. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Alfred had commented that she had been wearing only one shoe when he found her. Shawn believed Muriel had been attacked in the churchyard, and that was exactly where Harry and Max had seen her, too.

  “What happened in the churchyard, Jess?” I demanded. “Did Muriel find the Parish chest with all your treasures inside?”

  “Iris was right. Muriel was a snoop!” Jess said defiantly. “She was opening my letters, but she was the thief.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw her digging in her old man’s grave. She buried that biscuit tin and then pretended to get robbed.”

  “Did Muriel see you?”

  “It was an accident,” she whispered. “I swear.”

  “Look, Jess, I don’t know what on earth is going on here, but I think you should come clean with your husband. Tell him everything. It’s obvious he loves you.”

  My mobile rang on the kitchen counter. It rang and went to voicemail and then rang again … and again. Jess glanced over at the caller I.D.

  “Shawn? Why is he ringing you?” she exclaimed. “Did you tell him about me?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Believe me, there are more important things than you, Jess,” I said as suddenly I remembered the reason I had been in the church in the first place. “Harry and Max didn’t come home. They are missing—”

  “What do you mean, missing?” she said sharply.

  “Well, maybe they’ve been found by now,” I said. “But somehow I doubt it. Why else would Shawn be calling me?”

  “But it’s gone eleven o’clock!” said Jess. “Aren’t they with Lavinia or Pippa?”

  “Let me call him back. I must know what’s going on.”

  Jess hesitated. “But why do you think they’re missing?” she said.

  And then I remembered. “Harry’s white scarf was in the church.”

  “When?” she shrieked. “What time? Today?”

  “Yes. Why? What aren’t you telling me?” Jess’s anxiety was contagious. “Call Aubrey,” I said. “Please.”

  “I can’t. They’re out,” said Pippa. “There’s a banquet tonight for Cromwell’s New Model Army. Men only. They won’t be back until gone midnight.”

  I was confused. “But how did I get back here?”

  “In your car,” said Jess. “I drove.”

  “Then I’ll drive you home,” I said. “I’m feeling so much better now and I must find out what is happening.”

  “No! Please!” Jess put her hands on my shoulders and sat me back down. She seemed tormented, almost anguished. She kept glancing through the rain-spattered window and checking her watch. “Nothing will happen to Harry and Max. Nothing. I know it won’t. They’ll be fine.”

  “You’re scaring me, Jess,” I said. “You’re acting really strange. Give me my phone please and at least let me make a call and find out.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “If this is your idea of a practical joke it’s not funny!” I said. “Did Piers put you up to it?”

  And then I heard the sound of an engine in the distance. Even from my chair I could see headlights winding their way up the track to the cottage.

  Jess fell into a fever of agitation. She was actually trembling. “You were out for so long,” she said. “He gave you far too much.”

  “Who gave me too much?”

  “You have to believe me. This was not my idea.”

  I heard the throaty roar of a V8 engine. Headlights swept across the windows.

  “Stay where you are,” she said quickly. “Just stay still and let me do the talking. Understand?”

  “Jess—”

  “Do you understand?” She seemed hysterical. “Please do as I say and you won’t get hurt.”

  The engine stopped. I heard a car door slam. She jumped, momentarily distracted, but I saw my chance. I lunged for my mobile, but she was too fast and snatched it up and clasped it to her chest.

  “This is getting stupid!” I exclaimed.

  She darted to the front door and threw it open. Rupert’s Range Rover was parked outside.

  Thank God! But relief turned to confusion and then horror as I stared at the man in the doorway.

  I’d seen him somewhere before. His face was familiar and then, as he joined Jess in the light, I thought I was seeing double—elfin faced, short hair and the same height. They were identical twins with the only difference being that he bore all the signs of sleeping rough—dirty clothes, a tattered rucksack and a scraggly beard. I’d passed him hitchhiking along the main road from Totnes to Little Dipperton on Thursday. I distinctly remembered because the car in front of me had slowed down to give him a lift and he’d waved that car on and then climbed over a five-bar gate and into a field.

  “You go home now, Maureen,” he said quietly. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Maureen. He called Jess Maureen. The same name that Eric had called Jess on Friday morning. Was it really only two days ago? So much had happened. So much had changed.

  I found my voice. “I don’t know what the hell—”

  “Shut up!” the man shouted, and then began to cough so violently that I thought he would pass out.

  I was so surprised at his tone I shrank back. Then, to my dismay, I saw him pull out a small knife.

  I looked to Jess or Maureen, whatever she wanted to be called, and tried to keep my voice steady. “What
’s going on, Jess?”

  “She won’t betray you, Danny,” Jess pleaded. “I know she won’t.”

  “It’s too late for that,” he said, and started to cough again. “And no thanks to you.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid, please.” Jess’s voice had shot up an octave.

  “What do you care? Go home to your sugar daddy,” he said with a sneer.

  “I can’t,” Jess wailed. “Aubrey knows about … about … my hobby.”

  Danny’s eyes flashed with anger. “I knew you’d mess it up! I knew it! You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “If this is just a case of stealing—”

  “Shut up!” Danny yelled again, and again began to cough. I remembered Jess buying Lemsip in the post office. Had it been for this man?

  Jess started to cry.

  “That’s right. Turn on the tears. This is all your fault!”

  “No, it’s not all my fault,” Jess retorted. “Muriel saw you in the church. You were supposed to stay hidden. You gave her too much of that stuff. I told you not to. I told you she was too old.”

  “Yeah, well, it was a mistake.”

  “A big mistake,” Jess said. “You should never have come here! Why did you come here? Why?”

  I felt as if they had forgotten I was there. I wondered if I could make a run for the door, but Danny turned on me. “Don’t even think about it!”

  “You could have been out in two more years,” Jess raced on. “I could have found you a job on the estate. You would have had your second chance, just like me.”

  “But you messed up your second chance, Jess.” Danny’s mood had turned ugly. “You really think your old man is going to stay with you now he knows you are a thief?”

  Jess’s shoulders slumped.

  Danny’s mood changed again. “Come with me, Mo,” he said gently. “It’s always been just the two of us. You know that. You know I’m the only one who will really take care of you.”

  Jess nodded. She seemed so different from the bright, confident young woman of just a few days ago. Danny was a manipulator and a bully and I felt a rush of compassion for her.

  “Jess? The boys?” I said. “Harry is still your stepgrandson.”

  She gave a moan of dismay and looked to her brother. “Danny? Did you? Have you … Tell me and I promise I’ll come with you.”

  “They’re in the crypt.”

  I felt a surge of relief. The crypt! Of course, St. Mary’s church had an underground crypt.

  “Having a great old time, judging by their excitement when they discovered it,” he said.

  “But they’re safe,” Jess said eagerly. “They’re safe, Kat. It’s going to be alright.”

  Danny turned back to his sister. “I’ll meet you at the ferry. Go now. Go straight there. Understand?”

  “Yes. Straight there.”

  “Give Jess the keys to your car, Ms. Katherine Stanford,” Danny said nastily.

  “I’ve got them already,” said Jess, who seemed to have bounced back. “But you promise you won’t hurt her? She’s been so kind to me.”

  “I’m not going to, you daft thing,” he said. “Just buying some time. That’s all.”

  “I’m sorry, Kat,” said Jess, and hurried out of the cottage.

  Danny said nothing until the sound of my car had gone and Jane’s Cottage was quiet once more.

  I forced a smile. “She’s right,” I said. “I won’t say anything.”

  Danny laughed. “Maureen was always the naive one,” he said. “You’ve got to love her for that. No, you won’t be able to say anything because you won’t be around to say it.”

  He dumped his rucksack on the floor and retrieved a roll of duct tape.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “I’m not going to scream, you know.” I tried to make light of it, but when Danny marched me into the kitchen and sat me down on a wooden chair I began to get seriously scared.

  Without saying a word he taped my wrists behind the chair and my legs to the chair legs. It hurt.

  “I won’t say anything; in fact, I think I can probably get you a fake I.D.” Alfred was famous for creating forged papers. I don’t know why I said it, but there was a determination to Danny’s actions that I didn’t like. “You promise that the boys are okay?”

  “Don’t you ever shut up?” he hissed.

  “The boys—”

  He grabbed my hair and duct-taped my mouth. I began to panic again. The feeling of suffocation I had in the church hit me afresh. I watched in confusion as Danny shut the small kitchen window and placed a towel on the floor next to the back door. He disappeared for a few minutes, but I could hear him upstairs, closing more windows.

  Danny returned with a church candle. I recognized it as one taken from the box in the vestry. Opening the drawer next to the gas stove, he pulled out some matches and lit it. Carefully, he waited until there was enough candle wax to pour off into a pool and leave in a saucer. He set the candle down.

  Then he turned on all four gas burners.

  “I’m not making the same mistake again,” he said. “This time I won’t get interrupted.”

  And then, with a sickening jolt, I knew. Danny must have tried to cover up Muriel’s death by faking a suicide.

  Alfred must have interrupted him. But who was going to save me?

  I began to struggle, but my bindings held me captive. My face felt hot; I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  The smell of gas began to fill the room. I tried to fight down my rising horror. The whole place would explode. It was as if my life slowed down with every second turning into minutes. Would this be painless? Would it hurt? Poor Mum. My eyes began to smart and I felt tears trickle down my cheeks.

  And then Danny gave a cry of sheer terror. He turned ashen and began to back against the wall from something unseen. His hands raised in horror, eyes bulging out. He seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move, and began to shake his head vigorously in disbelief.

  And suddenly the smell of gas was overpowered by the fragrance of sweet honey mixed with the salt of the ocean.

  The lights began to flicker.

  The room grew icy cold and all the hairs on my neck rose up in unison.

  Eleanor was here.

  Together we saw a swirl of black dots materialize in front of our eyes. Eleanor hovered under the arch just feet from my chair and where Danny stood.

  He seemed paralyzed with fear and backed to the wall. She advanced, growing larger, taller, broader—towering over him in a menacing swirl of ectoplasm.

  With another cry he darted to the left, but again she blocked his way.

  Suddenly he thrust my chair sideways, sending me crashing to the floor.

  Screaming at the top of his lungs, Danny bunched his fists and ran straight through the spectral shape and on out of the front door, slamming it behind him.

  I heard the car engine burst into life, followed by a rush of gravel that spat at the wheels as he tore away.

  The chair had fallen sideways, but my bindings still remained. I couldn’t move.

  And then … a deafening crash as the kitchen window blew open, sending a shelf of long-stemmed wineglasses tumbling to the floor, where they shattered into tiny pieces. The wind swirled around the room, picking up stray papers and anything in its path; books catapulted off shelves and crashed into the wall and anything not nailed down was swept up into the vortex.

  Then suddenly it was over. The wind left and all was quiet once more.

  The candle had been extinguished.

  The gas burners had blown out.

  I was safe.

  I just lay there in shock until I heard the sound of a car outside and two doors banging shut; a fierce hammering on my front door followed by a jangle of keys.

  Mum burst in and found me in the galley kitchen.

  “Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “Are you having a party?” Then she promptly burst into tears. />
  Alfred removed the duct tape and freed my bindings. “You alright, luv?”

  “I think so.”

  “I just had the most extraordinary phone call from Jess Carew,” said Mum. “She called from your mobile. She told me to get here as quickly as I could but wouldn’t say why. Then she said the boys were safe and playing in the crypt and hung up. Why is there glass everywhere?”

  Quickly I told them both about my ordeal and how I was convinced that I would have met the same fate that had been planned for Muriel.

  During our conversation, Alfred didn’t utter a word but stood quietly in the corner of the sitting room.

  “Alfred?” said Mum.

  He turned to me and smiled. “Eleanor knows you will help her be reunited with her husband, but she stayed to save you.”

  “Thank you, Alfred,” I said. I had got the proof I had been asking for. I had seen Eleanor with my own eyes and she had saved my life. It didn’t matter if no one else believed in the spirit world. I knew that I now did.

  And so did Danny Coverdale.

  “We’ll never stop them,” I said. “They could be anywhere.”

  “I thought I passed Rupert’s Range Rover,” said Mum. “Wait! Alfred! Didn’t you put a tracking device on to that car?”

  For the first time ever, Alfred reddened.

  “You didn’t do it?” Mum demanded.

  Alfred shrugged. “I did, but I don’t know how to activate it.”

  “But the police do,” I said. “Call Shawn’s mobile, Mum.”

  “I suppose I could light a fire and send smoke signals.”

  “Maybe when you move into the twenty-first century you’ll get a mobile as well as a computer,” I said. “There’s a payphone in the village. Let’s get those boys.”

  We piled into Mum’s MINI. With Alfred driving we screeched to a halt outside the churchyard in eight minutes flat.

  Fortunately, Mum had bits of change in her glove box. We left Alfred making the call and hurried into the church. It was deathly quiet inside and black as pitch, but I knew exactly where to find a box of candles.

  “Harry! Max!” I shouted, but there was no answering call.

  “They’ll never hear you underground, dear.”

  I felt a stab of fear. Mum and I had gone over the church and had never seen the crypt. What if there was no air inside? How long had they been down there? What if we were too late?