The Quinton Case
A Markham Sisters Cozy Mystery Novella
Diana Xarissa
Contents
Author’s Note
Letter to Bessie, part one
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Letter to Bessie, part two
Glossary of Terms
Other Notes
Acknowledgments
The Rhodes Case
Also by Diana Xarissa
About the Author
Text Copyright © 2019 DX Dunn, LLC
All Rights Reserved
Created with Vellum
Author’s Note
As I begin the seventeenth (!) book in this series, I’m surprised and thrilled that so many of you continue to come along on this journey with me. When I started the series, I wasn’t sure I could write more than a book or two without any murders, and now we’re seventeen books in and no one has died yet! The plan at the moment is to finish the alphabet, and I have some other ideas for what comes after that as well, but we’ll have to see how things progress as time goes on. As ever, I suggest reading my series books in (alphabetical) order, but you’re welcome to ignore me and read any book you’d like. The stories should be enjoyable even if you read only one.
I open and close these novellas with excerpts from Janet’s letters to Bessie Cubbon, her friend on the Isle of Man. The sisters first met Bessie in Aunt Bessie Decides, and they do occasionally cross paths with one another. You do not need to read that series in order to enjoy this one, though. The letters are simply there to introduce and conclude the novellas.
The novellas are set in Derbyshire and I do use UK English spellings and terms. In the back of the book I’ve included a very brief glossary of some of the terms that may be unfamiliar to readers outside the UK. I live in the US now and it’s increasingly likely that Americanisms are popping up in my stories. I try to avoid them and I do make corrections if they are pointed out to me.
This is a work of fiction and all of the characters are fictional creations. Any resemblance that they may share with any real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The sisters live in the fictional village of Doveby Dale. Although some shops or businesses may bear some resemblance to real-life businesses, that is also coincidental.
I welcome you to get in touch. Full details on how to contact me are available in the back of the book. I have a monthly newsletter with details on new releases. You can subscribe to that on my website. Again, details are in the back of the book. Thanks for visiting Doveby Dale.
Letter to Bessie, part one
2nd January, 2000
Dearest Bessie,
It’s a new millennium and after all of the excitement, life doesn’t feel terribly different. Having read the warnings in the newspapers about computers failing and airplanes falling from the sky, it was almost disappointing that nothing seems to have happened at all, aside from the usual New Year celebrations.
I shouldn’t complain, of course. Having airplanes fall from the sky or having bank computers crashing would have been awful. As it was, though, Joan and I were both quite happy sitting at home on our own, toasting the new year while watching television.
December was a rather unusual month for us, with an unexpected amount of uncertainty and worry. Joan and I are both hoping for a quieter January, although some of that will depend upon Edward.
I meant to write to you a dozen different times during the month but never had the chance. I really should start back at the beginning, though, with the first letter we received in early December.
Chapter 1
“Perhaps we’ll have a guest at Christmas after all,” Joan Markham told her sister over breakfast on the tenth of December.
“I thought you said you’d blocked it out and weren’t taking any bookings,” Janet objected.
Buying the bed and breakfast in the first place had been Joan’s idea. While there were things that Janet liked about having it, especially the large and wonderful Doveby House that was now their home, she always preferred it when the house was empty of guests.
“Yes, but that was before I received a letter from our cousin Roland.”
“We have a cousin Roland?” Janet asked.
“Apparently,” Joan told her. “His name is Roland Dickerson and he was Uncle Harry’s third daughter’s second son.”
Janet frowned. “I don’t remember an Uncle Harry, either.”
“He died before you were born.”
“Then you don’t remember him either.”
“Not really.”
Not at all, Janet thought. Joan was only two years older than her sister, so there was no way she remembered anyone who’d died before Janet was born, no matter how much Joan might like to pretend otherwise.
“Anyway, Cousin Roland has been researching his family history, which is how he found us. He wrote suggesting that perhaps he could come and visit the week of Christmas, as he will be on holiday from work at that time.”
“What does he do? How old is he? Are you sure he’s truly related?”
“It might be easier if you only shouted one question at me at a time,” Joan protested. “He works with computers, in some capacity or other. He’s been using them to do his research. He said he’s semi-retired, whatever that means.”
“Does that make him our age?”
“He was born in the year between our births,” Joan told her. “He sent a copy of the family genealogy with the letter. It included his date of birth.”
“I’d like to see that.”
Joan handed her a sheet of paper.
Janet studied it for a moment. “Why didn’t we know about any of these people?” she asked eventually.
Joan shrugged. “None of them are close relatives, really,” she said. “We didn’t even know about Great-Aunt Mildred, and she left us the money we used to buy Doveby House.”
“Yes, I see her on here,” Janet said. “It’s odd that there were six children originally and over time all of the lines seem to have died out. Aside from you and me and Roland, there isn’t anyone else left.”
“Unless Roland is married and has children,” Joan suggested. “He didn’t mention a wife in his letter, but maybe he’s a widower.”
Janet shrugged. “If he has children, you’d think he would have put them on here, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe, but whatever he did or didn’t do, he wants to come and visit. What should we do?”
“I don’t want him here, not at Christmas, but there isn’t any nice way to tell him that, is there?”
“Not really. He is family, after all,” Joan said slowly. “The letter came yesterday and I’ve been trying to think of a polite way to tell him not to come ever since.”
“Maybe you could tell him that we’re going away for Christmas,” Janet suggested.
“I’m not going to lie to him.”
“So let’s go away for Christmas. Maybe we could go and see Bessie on the Isle of Man.”
“I don’t want to go away for Christmas. I want to stay here and celebrate with our friends.”
Janet sighed. “You want to stay here and celebrate with Michael,” she suggested.
The sisters were both retired primary school teachers. Neither had ever married, and while Janet had had a few boyfriends in her younger days, Joan had never appeared interested in the opposite sex. Both sisters had been surprise
d, therefore, when their neighbour, Michael Donaldson, had asked Joan to have dinner with him not long after they’d purchased Doveby House. After a few awkward nights out, Janet thought that the pair had settled into a lovely, friendly relationship, but she was just occasionally annoyed that Joan sometimes seemed to prefer Michael’s company to her own.
Joan flushed. “Michael and I were talking about having Christmas Eve dinner with his sister-in-law and his nephew. Things were awkward when I first met them, but Michael has been telling them more about me, apparently, and they’ve expressed an interest in getting to know me better.”
Janet pressed her lips together and counted to ten before she spoke. Michael was a widower and she knew it was good for him to spend time with his former wife’s family, but they hadn’t been very welcoming towards Joan when he’d introduced her to them some months back and Janet still hadn’t forgiven them for that. “So we’ll have to have Roland for a visit, then, won’t we?” she sighed.
“It might be interesting,” Joan said. “He may know more about the family than we do. Our father was never very interested in his relatives, but maybe Roland actually knew some of them.”
“I suppose it might be nice to find out more about Great-Aunt Mildred, seeing as how we inherited her fortune. If Roland did know her, though, I wonder why he didn’t inherit anything from her.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t ask him that question.”
“It’s slightly worrying, though. Maybe she disinherited him because he’s not a very nice person.”
“Or maybe she preferred to leave her estate to us because we’re also childless, unmarried women,” Joan suggested. “Or maybe a dozen other possibilities. We welcome total strangers into our home all the time. This won’t be that different, really.”
Janet didn’t agree, but she didn’t argue any further.
Christmas was rapidly approaching and she still hadn’t finished her shopping. She knew Joan wanted a small writing desk for her bedroom. There was already a desk in the room, but Joan found it larger than she needed. The sisters had agreed to move it into the sitting room, as there was enough space there to accommodate it, but first they needed to find a replacement for Joan’s room. Joan kept putting off shopping, though, making excuses that Janet suspected were mostly to do with saving money.
While both sisters had always been frugal, Janet had a somewhat different view of Christmas than her sister did. Joan felt that simple and inexpensive gifts were most appropriate, while Janet always wanted to be extravagant. As she’d never really had the money to indulge that belief, she’d usually kept her gift giving as simple as her sister’s, but this year the pair had had an unexpected bonus and Janet was determined to spend some part of it on something wonderful for Joan.
“I’m going into Doveby Dale to see William,” she told her sister after the breakfast dishes had been washed and put away. “I have some Christmas shopping to do.”
“I don’t need anything this year,” Joan said.
Janet laughed. “You say that automatically every single year. I think this year you need something wonderful. We have extra money, after all.”
“If you’re talking about the money from Edward Bennett, that isn’t extra money at all. He’s paid to stay for the month of January, that’s all. If he turns up with another guest and they both do stay all month, we’ll probably spend every penny of it on feeding him and his guest breakfast every day.”
“He isn’t going to come for the whole month,” Janet told her, “and even if he does, he paid well over the odds for the rooms. We can afford a few little extras this year for Christmas.”
“Little extras are fine,” Joan conceded, “but only little ones.”
Janet grabbed her handbag and headed out the door. As she climbed into her little red coupe, she found herself thinking about Edward again. That was hardly surprising, as he had given her the car she now pointed towards the centre of Doveby Dale village.
Edward had been the first guest at Doveby House after she and Joan had purchased the seventeenth-century manor house. The previous owner, Margaret Appleton, had been running it as a bed and breakfast before her death and Edward claimed to have had an existing booking with the woman. Janet had initially disliked the sophisticated and handsome man, but he’d done his best to charm her during his stay, revealing at the end of it that he worked for the UK government in some secret capacity and had formerly used Doveby House as a safe house. Janet hadn’t known what to believe, and now, more than a year later, she still wasn’t sure what to think.
Over the months since they’d met, Edward had stayed in touch with infrequent phone calls and occasional gifts. She had him to thank for the beautiful painting that was hanging in her bedroom, for her much loved kitten, Aggie, and for the wonderful little car that was the first car she’d owned that she didn’t have to share with Joan. Edward had even come for another short visit, during which they’d investigated a fire at the local grocery shop. While that might not sound romantic to most women, Janet had thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
A short while ago, Edward had rung to request that the sisters leave the bed and breakfast available to him for the entire month of January. He’d told Janet that he was hoping to come for a visit and would probably be bringing a guest with him, so that he’d need both guest rooms. A short while later, they’d received a cheque to cover the cost of hiring both rooms for the entire month. In truth, the cheque had been for considerably more than twice what Janet and Joan charged for their guest rooms. Now the sisters were both waiting anxiously to find out if and when he was actually coming.
As Janet slid her car into a parking space in the car park for the shops in Doveby Dale, she sighed and then pushed Edward out of her head. William Chalmers was another problem, and a more pressing one, at least for today. The man owned the small antiques and collectables shop in the village. When he’d first arrived in Doveby Dale he’d seemed arrogant and unlikeable, but Janet soon discovered that he was acting unfriendly in an attempt to hide his criminal record from the people of Doveby Dale. Once his secret had been revealed to general disinterest, he’d softened considerably.
Over time, he’d begun to hint that he had romantic intentions where Janet was concerned. The pair had gone out to lunch or dinner a few times, but things seemed to stop and start rather than progressing in any way. Janet had recently helped him interview several people for a part-time sales assistant position in the shop. In the end William had hired a woman in her early sixties who had recently relocated to the village.
Amanda Hockensmith seemed nice enough, but Janet had her suspicions about the woman. Amanda had been married twice, and from what Janet could determine, the woman had done very well out of both of her divorces. While Janet wasn’t exactly sure that she wanted a romantic relationship with William, she definitely didn’t want to see him get hurt. Keeping a close eye on Amanda was, therefore, necessary.
That was what she told herself, anyway, as she climbed out of the car and headed for the chemist’s shop that was next to William’s. Owen Carter, the shop’s manager, had agreed to keep watch over William on Janet’s behalf. Amanda had only started her new job a few days earlier, and Janet was eager to learn what Owen thought of the woman.
Chapter 2
“She’s charming,” Owen told her. “She stuck her head in here both times when she was heading to work, just to say hello to me. Yesterday she baked chocolate chip cookies and gave me a dozen. She gave some to Donald next door, too.”
“I’m glad she’s working out so well,” Janet lied.
“William seems happy with her, too,” Owen continued. “We closed up at the same time last night and he was telling me how helpful she’s already been, even after only two mornings in the shop.”
“Great,” Janet said unenthusiastically.
She bought a box of tissues as an excuse for her visit before heading to the newsagent’s shop next. Donald was behind the counter as usual, reading a magazine. He jumped up whe
n the door opened and then sat back down, looking disappointed, when Janet walked into the shop.
“Were you expecting someone else?” she asked.
“Amanda, William’s new assistant. She brought me cookies yesterday,” he told her, rubbing his rounded tummy. “She’s really sweet.”
“Owen said something similar.”
Donald frowned. “He’s too young for her, isn’t he?”
Janet was surprised by the question. Was it possible that Donald was interested in Amanda? “I hadn’t really thought about it,” she said slowly. “I believe Owen is in his late forties, though. I believe Amanda is closer to sixty.”
“Exactly, so Owen is far too young for her,” Donald said happily.
“Whereas you’re exactly the right age,” Janet suggested.
“I’m sixty-two,” Donald told her. “I’ve been divorced for thirty years, and I’ve spent a lot of time with a lot of different women since then. Amanda seems to be my type.”
Janet thought about asking what type of woman he usually liked, but then decided she really didn’t want to know. She bought a few magazines and a bar of chocolate before heading back outside. It only took a moment for her to drop her shopping bags into her boot before making her way to the antique shop.
“Janet, how lovely to see you,” Amanda said in her slow drawl.
Janet frowned. She’d forgotten about the other woman’s odd accent. They’d discussed it in her interview. Amanda had been born in Birmingham, but when she’d gone to university, she’d met an American and run off with him once he’d finished his semester of study in the UK. He was from Texas, and she’d lived there with him until he’d decided that he fancied a much younger woman. From what Amanda had hinted at, he’d paid her a fortune to agree to a quick divorce. She’d taken the money and moved herself to Florida for another ten years or so. Her second marriage had taken her to Louisiana, where she’d spent seven years before again being left for a younger woman.
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