Murder Always Barks Twice

by Jennifer Hawkins

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  Emma opened the garage door and then stood back so Helen could pull into the bay. Behind her, Emma heard the familiar clamor of happy barking.

  * * *

  * * *

  Helen was coming out of the garage. Emma stood up and faced her, trying to force her face back into something like a neutral expression.

  Daphne and Pearl were both in the kitchen when Emma and Helen walked in. Daphne was at the sink, taking a long swig from a water bottle. Pearl was perched on a stool at the counter, with a notebook and a three-ring binder open in front of her. She was scrolling on her mobile with one hand and making notes with the other.

  Dash was there as well, curled up on his blanket. Oliver seemed to think this was an excellent idea and went over to nestle down with him. Dash flopped his feathered tail over the corgi’s back.

  “Hullo, Mum.” Daphne lowered the bottle. “Did you get it?”

  “Yeah, we did. Daphne, can we talk a second?”

  Pearl raised her eyebrows toward Emma. Emma shook her head.

  “Sure.” Daphne snapped the cap back onto her bottle. “Upstairs?”

  “Good idea.”

  They both exited up the back stairs. As soon as they were gone, Pearl laid her mobile down.

  “What happened at the solicitors?” asked Pearl.

  “Well, we found Marcie’s will. I expect that’s what Helen’s telling Daphne about right now. And we found this.” Emma put the ledger down on the counter and flipped open to the screenshots of the missing antiques.

  “Well, looks like Marcie had a method.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Pearl dug into her stack of binders and papers and pulled out two identical ledgers. “I found these. Last year’s inventory wasn’t the only place Marcie was hiding things.”

  Like all the other grange inventories, these ledgers were stamped with their respective years. One was for 1976, and the other for 2000.

  “Wait,” said Emma. “Didn’t Marcie’s parents die in 2000?”

  “And Stewart Cochrane died in that boating accident in 1976.” Pearl passed Emma the ledger. “Seems Marcie was taking an interest in the family accidents.”

  Emma flipped open the pages. Several news clippings had been pasted in, blurred copies of newspaper articles, tracking the grim progress of the boat going missing and eventually washing up on the shore, with Stewart found trapped belowdecks. There were charts of the currents and tides, as well as a weather report from the day.

  “Pretty dark for a scrapbook,” muttered Emma.

  “Not as dark as the other one.” Pearl opened the 2000 ledger.

  Emma was already sure what she’d see, and she was right. It was more clippings, this time coverage of the “tragic accident that claimed the lives of local Trevena residents Richard and Evelyn Cochrane.” Here there was more information. Not only had the news accounts been included but copies of the autopsy reports, the police reports and the inspection of the car showing no signs of mechanical failure. Someone had carefully underlined the concluding section: driver lost control of the vehicle. Alcohol determined to have been a factor in crash.

  Someone had also added a question mark.

  There was no accident. Emma remembered the underlining in the copy of Rebecca.

  “Where did you find these?” asked Emma.

  “Right on the shelves with the others. Hidden in plain sight.”

  Just like the message inside Rebecca.

  If it was a message.

  44

  Pearl pulled out her mobile.

  “I’m texting Daphne,” she said, her fingers already tapping the screen.

  “Good idea,” agreed Emma. “She should know about this.”

  “And maybe we should get upstairs?” Pearl typed as she talked. “At least find the rest of the board?”

  “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Pearl must have caught something in her expression, because she glanced up from her screen. “Are you all right, Emma?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I just . . . there’s a call I need to make,” she finished. As an excuse, it sounded pretty lame.

  Fortunately, Pearl didn’t seem to notice. “Right.” She finished her own text and tucked her mobile into her pocket. “Meet you in the sitting room.”

  The door closed and Emma rounded the counter. “Psst, Oliver!”

  Oliver was on his feet immediately. He must have jostled Dash, because the big mutt lifted his head and looked distinctly annoyed. Oliver just yipped and scampered over to Emma. She crouched down and let him put his paws up on her knees.

  “Quick, Oliver. Tell me exactly what you saw this afternoon.”

  “I saw Gus!” Oliver barked. “That is, we saw Gus, because Dash was there too!” Dash huffed, and dug his nose into the folds of his blanket. “But he got distracted by a branch, but I didn’t and . . .”

  Emma suppressed a groan of frustration at this corgi digression. “Okay, you saw Gus,” she said quickly. “You said he was standing by the pond?”

  “Yes!” yipped Oliver. “He had a bundle, and a shovel. I think he dug up the bundle. I didn’t get a chance to look. Should I look?”

  “Maybe later. What kind of a bundle was it? Was it, like clothes?”

  Oliver hesitated. His ears drooped. “I don’t know. Sorry, Emma. He didn’t hold it for very long. He just threw it. All the way into the center of the pond. Dash tried to go after it, but Gus said leave it.” He paused. “It had a long handle.”

  A bundle with a handle? Emma bit her lip. What could . . . wait! “Was the handle, like, maybe a strap? Like on my handbag?”

  “Yes!” said Oliver excitedly. “Yes, like that!”

  That could make it Marcie’s missing handbag, maybe with her mobile and her planner. Emma felt her chest tighten. “Okay. Then what?”

  “Then Gus went to the shed, and he put the shovel inside, and I smelled something, but he wouldn’t let me stay, and then the Frank man came.”

  “Wait. Frank was there?”

  “He said he was looking for Gus, and he found him. He must be a smart human. Not a nice human, but smart. You have a hard time finding—”

  “What did they talk about?” asked Emma quickly.

  Oliver scratched his chin and then his ear. “I didn’t understand it all. He was worried about not finding a thing, even though he could find Gus. He said they needed to stick together because of the Bert man. And Gus was worried about Marcie being dead, and then Frank made him shoo me away and they walked away, and I couldn’t hear anything else. Sorry, Emma!”

  “No, that’s okay, Oliver.” She hugged him. “You did great.”

  “I can show you where the shed is!” He barked. He also licked her chin. “It’s close! Sort of. We can go now!” Oliver bounced over to the outside door. “Come on, Emma!”

  Dash barked and Oliver barked back. “She is not!”

  Emma was about to answer, but her mobile in her pocket vibrated. She swore under her breath and pulled it out. A new text lit up the screen. It was Pearl.

  Helen facing down uncles. Marcie’s room.

  “Oh, sugar!” Emma stuffed her mobile into her pocket. “We’d better get up there.”

  Both she and Oliver took the stairs at a run.

  The ground floor was bustling. They passed Tasha directing young men in work clothes where to put tables and chairs. Nobody even seemed to notice as Emma hoisted Oliver into her arms and ran up the main stairs. Well, she started out running. By the time she reached the first landing, it was more of a trot, and by the time she reached the top it was just short of a stumble. She put Oliver down and drew a ragged breath.

  “They should put water bowls at the top of these stairs.” Oliver shook himself. “You should tell them.”

 
“Will do. Shortly.” Emma gasped. “Right.” She hurried down the hall as best she could, with Oliver bouncing beside her.

  “What were you thinking!” The door to Marcie’s room was open, and there was nothing to muffle Bert’s shout.

  The Cochranes were ranged across the room. Bert was standing all but toe to toe with Helen. Bert’s calm had obviously deserted him. His face was flushed red and for a moment Emma was afraid he might raise his hand. Daphne was right beside her mother, and from the way Daphne was watching Bert, Emma guessed she thought so too. Pearl stood at her friend’s shoulder, one hand jammed in her back pocket, ready, Emma realized, to pull out her mobile if needed.

  Frank stood by the fireplace, watching the others with all the intensity of a football fan with a bet on the match.

  Gus, on the other hand, looked like he was about to burst out laughing.

  Oliver started to charge into the room, but Emma caught him by the collar, and pressed on him gently to sit. The last thing this family quarrel needed was a corgi invasion.

  “I can’t believe you did this without telling us!” shouted Bert.

  “That I did it, or that Marcie did?” inquired Helen. “Because I didn’t do anything except find the papers she had drafted.”

  “Well, I think it’s bloody marvelous.” Gus slid between her and Bert and shook Helen’s hand. “Congratulations, and I’m sorry. For both of you.” He touched Daphne’s shoulder. “Bit of a white elephant you’ve won here, but—”

  “Thanks, Gus,” Helen said, uncertainly.

  “Couldn’t wait five minutes to start sucking up again, could you?” muttered Frank.

  Now Gus did laugh, once, sharply. “Jealous?” With apologies to Ned, Emma thought he sounded positively giddy. “You should be. She did it, our big sister, didn’t she? Pulled the rug right out from under all of us, and good for her! You hear that, Marcie?” he shouted toward the ceiling. “Good for you!”

  Pearl and Emma looked at each other. Pearl tipped her hand toward her mouth in the universal sign for “Has he had one too many?” Pearl shrugged.

  “I’m surprised to hear you so happy about it all,” Bert said coldly. “After you went through all that trouble to make sure you’d inherit sooner rather than later.”

  The overflowing humor drained straight out of Gus’s manner. “What?” he croaked.

  “I think I was quite clear.”

  “No, you were not.” Gus walked up to him. “You say that again.”

  “Will you all just stop it!” shouted Daphne.

  What they all did then was stare at her, including Helen.

  Daphne planted herself in front of her mother, clearly ready to block whatever might be coming in. “You want to know why Aunt Marcie left this place to me and Mum? This is why.” She spread her arms to indicate all three of the brothers. “This, right here. This mess is your fault for being such a bunch of gits! Not Mum’s, not Marcie’s and not mine! Yours!”

  “Daphne, I really don’t think . . .” began Bert.

  “And I really don’t care!” she roared. “Come on, Mum. Pack up. We’re getting out of here.”

  “You can’t!” sputtered Bert. “Frank, will you explain to your daughter that we have to settle this?”

  Frank raised both eyebrows and mouthed, “Me?”

  “Unfortunately, Bert, Marcie already settled it,” said Helen. She turned around. “Pearl, do you think there’s room for Daphne and me at the King’s Rest tonight?”

  “I happen to know there is,” said Pearl cheerfully. “Come on, Daph. I’ll help you pack.”

  Helen nodded to the three brothers and followed the girls out. Emma did the same, only more awkwardly, and with Oliver trotting alongside.

  “You want some help too?” she asked Helen when she caught up.

  “Yes, thanks,” she said.

  Pearl and Daphne disappeared into one of the left-hand rooms. Helen opened a door directly across the hall. On the other side was a comfortable bedroom. The Victorian-era furniture made it feel a little overfull, but it still had a kind of bed-and-breakfast charm to it.

  Helen hauled her suitcase out of the big standing wardrobe and dropped it on the four-poster. Emma unzipped it for her, and Helen pulled open the dresser drawers and started loading her clothes into the case.

  Oliver nosed around the new room. “Ooo, what’s that?” he muttered and went down on his belly so he could slide under the bed.

  “Should you let him do that?” asked Helen.

  “Probably not,” sighed Emma. “But he needed a bath anyway.”

  Somebody knocked on the door. Emma glanced at Helen, and then went to open it.

  It was Ned Giddy. He stepped tentatively into the room.

  “We heard, that is, I’ve been sort of . . .” He gestured helplessly. “I got the short straw actually. I’m here to find out what’s going on.”

  “Family squabble,” said Helen tersely. “Nothing you need to worry about, just yet anyway.”

  “Right, right, of course.” Ned rubbed his scalp. “Well, then. I’ve done my bit. But really, Helen, we just want to make sure you’re all right.”

  Helen mustered a smile. It wasn’t very enthusiastic, but it was genuine. “Thanks, Ned. Tell Tasha and John I appreciate it, and I’m sorry about all the fuss.”

  “Will do,” he said briskly. “Right, then. Just show myself out.” This he did by stepping backward and closing the door.

  Emma opened her mouth.

  “Emma, please don’t ask me what we’re going to do about the festival.”

  “I wasn’t going to. I was just—”

  Somebody knocked on the door again. Helen threw up her hands. The door opened, and Frank leaned in.

  “Well, Frank,” sighed Helen. “I assume you want to weigh in on all this?”

  “Not really,” he said. “I think it’s a good idea you get out for a bit.”

  Helen pulled back, surprised. “You do?”

  “Yes, I really do. With this news about the will and all, and all the uncertainty around what happened to Marcie, things are not going to be exactly peaceful around here for the next few days. You and Daphne are better off out of it.”

  “Thanks,” said Helen softly.

  “And who knows? Maybe I’ll get myself out of bed and meet you down there for one of Angelique’s famous breakfasts. If that’d be okay?” he added.

  “Yes, sure. If you want.”

  “Thanks.” He paused, and held out his hand. “Friends?”

  Helen hesitated. “All right. We can try anyway.” She shook his hand. The smile she returned was small, but it was genuine.

  * * *

  * * *

  After Frank left, Helen finished packing in a hurry. Emma got the distinct feeling she wanted to make her escape before another interruption arrived.

  Oliver crawled out from under the bed, sneezing mightily and looking sheepish. His normally white patches were now a mottled gray.

  “Oh, it is so bath time for you, corgi me lad.”

  Oliver shivered and tried to look pitiful. Emma just shook her head.

  “Ready in there?” called Daphne. Emma opened the door. Helen heaved her suitcase off the bed and all of them, including the very dusty Oliver, started down the hallway toward the front door.

  “Can we stop for some takeaway?” Daphne hitched her bulky rucksack up on her shoulders. “Only I forgot to get any lunch.”

  “No worries,” said Pearl as they started down the stairs. “I texted Ma. We’re covered.”

  Down in the foyer, Gus was standing with Caite. They were whispering frantically at each other. Then, all at once, Caite looked up. Emma thought she was looking at them, but she wasn’t. She was looking past them, above them in fact.

  Emma twisted around to see Bert looking down from the second floor. Caite
drew herself up like she was coming to attention. She put her hand on Gus’s shoulder.

  Gus turned, and he looked up as well, meeting Bert’s gaze and not flinching at all. Frank came out of the shadowy hallway too, and stood next to Bert.

  Choosing sides? wondered Emma.

  Caite whispered something in Gus’s ear. He nodded, and touched her hand. He straightened his shoulders and made a mocking bow toward his older brothers, complete with a sharp click of his heels. Then, Gus turned and followed Caite out the door.

  Bert made a move like he was going to charge down the stairs, but Frank caught his arm.

  “Don’t,” he said. “You’ll only be making things worse.

  Bert shook Frank off. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll be back; he just doesn’t know it yet.”

  But Emma remembered Gus’s expression just before he turned to follow Caite and found she wasn’t so sure. Because that was the look of a man who finally realized there really might be such a thing as freedom.

  45

  Pearl said that Angelique had them covered as far as dinner was concerned. To Emma, “covered” did not begin to describe it. What waited for them in the B&B’s garden was a feast.

  Angelique and Daniel had put up the Private Party sign at one of the big picnic tables in the garden. There was fresh plaice poached in tomato broth and chilies, coconut rice and beans, a dish of cabbage and carrots cooked with yet more chilies, and a pile of fried dumplings.

  Genny was there too. “It’s father-sons night at our house,” she said. “Otherwise known as Martin and the boys get pizza and watch some movie with a lot of explosions while Mum gets the night off.”

  She brought a huge beetroot and fennel salad. “Since this time somebody else cooked the fish.”

  “I feel bad,” said Emma as she pulled up a chair. “I didn’t bring anything.”

  “You brought all the news,” said Genny as she settled down at the table. “So spill.”

  “Oh, no,” said Angelique firmly. “Not until after. Look at these girls.” She gestured toward Pearl and Daphne. “They’re practically fainting.”