“Joan,” she called as she watched the scene in the garden. “You might want to see this.”
Joan had been working on her Christmas puddings, but she quickly joined Janet. “What on earth...” she exclaimed.
Stuart was pushing a wheelbarrow laden down with boxes and bags. Every time he moved forward a few feet, something fell off and he had to stop, and every time he stopped, the entire wheelbarrow looked as if it might topple over.
“I think I might give him a hand,” Janet said, heading for the door.
“Do let me help,” she said as she reached Stuart. He was picking up a bag and struggling to balance everything else at the same time.
“Maybe you could just follow me and pick up the things that fall off,” he suggested.
Janet smiled and fell into step behind him. By the time they reached the carriage house, her arms were full with several bags that she’d collected on the short journey. “But what’s in these?” she asked. “They’re big and awkward, but not very heavy.”
Stuart shrugged. “My wife, that is, my first wife did lots of crafts and sewing and things. There are bags and bags of fabric and knitting wool and the like. I think my daughter might want it all one day, once she’s ready to settle down.”
Janet watched as Stuart carefully stacked several boxes against one wall of the building. Then he piled the bags on top of the stacks. “Just the screen printer to go and I’m done,” he told Janet cheerfully.
She stood and watched him push the wheelbarrow back out of the room. He was back a few minutes later with a large box. “I’m sorry, but what did you say that was?” she asked.
“It’s some sort of silkscreen printing machine,” he told her. “I don’t really know what it does or how it works, but my wife used to print shirts for herself and others.”
“I see,” Janet said slowly.
“Thanks again,” Stuart told her as he locked up the carriage house behind them. “The next time my daughter visits, I’ll try to persuade her to take a few things home with her.”
“You don’t think you could use a silkscreen machine to print money?” Janet asked Joan when she returned to the house.
“No, I don’t think you could,” Joan told her. “They wouldn’t sell them to the public if just anyone could print money on them, would they?”
Janet shrugged. “Maybe not,” she said after a moment. “But I still think it’s interesting that Stuart is suddenly hiding that machine in our carriage house.”
“I do hope you aren’t suggesting that he’s the counterfeiter and now he’s hiding the evidence in our carriage house,” Joan said sharply. “We could get into a lot of trouble with the police if that’s the case.”
“I’m sure it isn’t,” Janet said. “It’s just odd.”
“I thought you were going to work in the library,” Joan said pointedly.
“I was, but now I think I’d like to pop into town and visit with William,” Janet said. “I’d really like to have a word with him about his art.”
“Would you now?” Joan asked in a suspicious voice.
“Yes, I would,” Janet said. “I’m hoping that Karen won’t be around. She can’t be there all the time.”
“I suppose I’ll come as well,” Joan said. “If he is ready to talk about selling us some paintings, we’ll have to agree on a fair price. And maybe, if Karen is there, you can distract her while I chat with William.”
The sisters made the short trip into town. Janet couldn’t help but look around the small car park as Joan parked their car. “I don’t see the Walters’s car here anywhere,” she remarked.
“Maybe they got it towed,” Joan replied. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”
The antique shop looked empty as the women entered. For once, the loud buzzer didn’t sound as the pushed the door open.
“Maybe William is in the back,” Janet suggested. She crossed towards the doorway to the back, but stopped when she heard voices.
“You’d better do exactly what I say,” a woman shouted. “Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Don’t be angry, pet.” Janet recognised William’s voice as he tried to placate the woman.
“But you aren’t listening to me,” the woman shot back. Janet was sure now that it was Karen Holmes who was shouting at William.
“I am listening, but I’m not prepared to...”
Janet wasn’t sure what he wasn’t prepared to do, as just then Karen began to shout over him. Janet found herself blushing brightly as some very colourful language met her ears. After glancing over at Joan, who was still standing near the door and either couldn’t hear or was pretending not to, Janet sighed deeply.
“Knock, knock,” she shouted as loudly as she could. “William? Are you in the back, then?” While she was shouting, she shuffled as quietly as she could back towards the front door. She heard a shocked exclamation from the back, and then William and Karen appeared it the doorway.
“Ah, Janet and Joan, what a lovely surprise,” William said smoothly, glancing nervously at Karen.
“Hello,” Karen said. “How nice of you to drop in.” Her tone was bright with artificial cheer, but Janet fancied that she looked angry.
“It’s so lovely to see you again,” Janet gushed. She walked over to Karen. “I wasn’t sure if you were still in the area or not,” she said.
“I am, although I really need a new place to stay,” Karen told her. “I don’t suppose you have any room available at your place?”
Janet tried to look suitably disappointed as she replied. “I’m so sorry, but we’re full up at the moment,” she said. “We don’t have any openings until the new year.”
“Yes, you and everyone else, it seems,” Karen told her. “I suppose it’s my fault for changing my plans at the last minute. I didn’t expect to meet someone special, you see, and that’s changed everything.” Karen looked over at William, who was now chatting with Joan, and winked at him. Janet might have been more impressed with Karen’s words if she hadn’t heard them arguing just a few minutes earlier.
“Do you know anything about armoires?” Janet asked, steering Karen towards the large piece at the back that her sister had admired previously.
“Only a little bit,” Karen replied. “But I’m happy to share what I know.”
While Janet and Karen opened and closed drawers and cupboards, Joan and William disappeared into the back room. After only a few minutes, Karen began to look nervous.
“I should get William for you,” she told Janet. “He’s the expert.”
“Oh, don’t bother him,” Janet said airily. “I’m not ready to buy anything today, anyway. I just wanted a better look. How much is that wardrobe?” She pointed to a huge wardrobe in the far corner of the room.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Karen replied. “Let me get William for you.”
“Oh, come on,” Janet said, linking arms with the woman. “Let’s go and check it out. I’m sure you’ll be a big help to William if you learn all about the various pieces that are for sale.”
“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Karen replied. She glanced over at the door to the back, but then allowed Janet to pull her across the room.
Janet had just about run out of things to say about the wardrobe when Joan and William reappeared. She sighed with relief. A moment later the sisters were heading for their car.
“I’m sure Karen thinks I’m quite daft,” Janet said as they walked. “I admired every little thing about that wardrobe, from the size to the craftsmanship to the wood, at least twice.”
“And I didn’t even get anywhere with William,” Joan told her. “He refused outright to discuss his art with me.”
“Did he give you any reason why?”
“He just said he wasn’t ready to tell Karen about it,” Joan replied. “And he wouldn’t talk about her, either.”
“They seemed to be having quite a large fight when we got there,” Janet said.
“Karen has a very extensive vocabulary,
” Joan said dryly.
Janet laughed. “I’ve never even heard some of those words before,” she told her sister.
“Yes, well, they certainly weren’t nice words. I wonder what they were fighting about.”
“I couldn’t hear enough to figure that out,” Janet told her. “You couldn’t get William to tell you anything?”
“Oh, he’d have talked all day about the pictures in the back,” Joan told her. “I couldn’t shut him up. He just kept babbling about the different artists and whatever. I’m sure he was just trying to keep me from asking difficult questions.”
“But you did anyway,” Janet said with a grin.
“I tried,” Joan agreed. “But I didn’t get any answers.”
“I don’t suppose he had any news on the tantalus?” Janet asked.
“He said he’s sent requests to a few friends to see if he can find out more, but it will probably be some time before he hears back, especially as it is so close to Christmas.”
“Karen asked if we had a room available,” Janet told Joan.
“Oh, goodness, I hope you told her no,” Joan exclaimed.
“I did,” Janet said. “I told her we were booked up until some time in January.”
“Good. I know we shouldn’t be choosy about our guests, but I didn’t like that woman when I first met her and I really don’t like her after today. I don’t think she’s good for William.”
Janet laughed. “Remember how much we disliked William when we met him?” she asked. “I can’t believe we’re so worried about his happiness now. A few months ago I would have said that he and Karen deserve one another.”
“But William has really been trying to be nicer, and his art work is really lovely. It bothers me that she’s getting in the way of his working on his art.”
“I know,” Janet said. “He’s much nicer than he first appeared. Maybe Karen is as well.”
“Or maybe she’s just horrible,” Joan said.
“Maybe,” Janet said.
Joan parked in their small car park and the pair made their way into the house. They were halfway up the steps to the front door when Janet heard a car turning down the street. She stopped and watched as a newer sedan car stopped and then signaled and pulled into Doveby House’s car park. Joan had opened the door to the house and now both sisters watched as the car door swung open.
Chapter Nine
The woman who climbed out of the car looked like every other woman in her sixties in Britain. Her clothes weren’t new, but they were clean and neatly pressed. Her shoes were sensible and her grey hair was cut in an efficient bob. She might have been carrying a few more pounds than she had in her youth, but it suited her. Janet was immediately reminded of her mother, who had been dead for many years. This woman looked like someone’s mother.
“Good afternoon,” Janet greeted the woman as she made her way from the car towards the house. “Can we help you?”
The woman looked at her and then sighed deeply. “I suppose I must go on, mustn’t I? I wasn’t sure I was even going to stop, but then there you were and I didn’t feel as if I could just drive away.”
“Would you like to come in?” Joan asked from the doorway. “I could make some tea.”
“I think I could use some,” the woman replied.
Joan led the others into the kitchen. While Janet put the kettle on, Joan fixed a plate of sandwiches.
“It’s just about time for some lunch,” she said brightly. “We can have sandwiches and then biscuits. I’ve even got some Victoria sponge left from yesterday, if you prefer.”
The woman sitting at the kitchen table shook her head. “Oh, but I didn’t, that is, I wasn’t expecting, oh...” She stopped speaking and burst into tears.
Janet exchanged glances with her sister and then moved over to the woman. She handed her a tissue and then began to pat her back. “There now, it isn’t that bad, is it?” she muttered. “Whatever is wrong, we can help, or at least we can try to help.”
The woman sobbed even more. The kettle boiled and Joan fixed the tea. “Here now, tea,” Joan said loudly.
The woman drew a deep breath and then swallowed hard. After a moment, she raised her head and reached for her teacup. After a couple of sips, she blew out a sigh. “I am sorry,” she said. “I’m not usually, that is, I never cry.”
“Sometimes you need a good cry,” Janet said. “It clears your head, or so I’m told.”
The woman nodded. “I suppose it did, rather. I simply wasn’t expecting you to be so nice, you see. It’s all been so difficult.”
“Perhaps you should start from the beginning,” Joan suggested.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she replied. “I ought to introduce myself, I guess. I’m Harriet Walters.”
Janet looked sharply at Joan, but Joan kept her eyes on their guest. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Joan Markham and this is my sister, Janet.”
“I always wanted a sister,” Harriet said distractedly. “I only had a brother and he was ten years older than me. It wasn’t, that is, we were never close.”
“I can’t imagine what a brother would be like,” Janet said.
“I suppose it depends on the brother,” Joan interjected.
Harriet chuckled. “I suppose it does,” she agreed. “Mine wasn’t very happy to get lumbered with a baby sister and he never bothered to hide that from me.”
“There’s only a few years between us,” Janet told her. “Joan didn’t have time to get used to being an only child before I came along.”
Harriet nodded. “I felt that was best when I came to have my children. Jack wasn’t quite two when Margaret came along and she was only just two when Charlotte arrived. Charlotte was nearly three by the time we had George, but I lost one in between my last two.”
“And are your children closer than you and your brother were?” Janet had to ask.
Harriet shrugged. “The girls fought constantly when they were younger and the boys were too far apart in age to really get along. Now that they’re all adults I suspect they only stay in touch with one another to please me.”
While they talked, all three women sipped their tea. Janet was pleased to see Harriet’s colour improve as she nibbled her way through several sandwiches. After Joan cleared the sandwich platter, she replaced it with a plate of biscuits.
“I’ll just slice up the Victoria sponge,” she said while Janet and Harriet helped themselves to biscuits.
“Just a small piece for me,” Harriet said. “I have to watch what I eat.”
“A treat now and then is good for you,” Janet said, conscious that she, too, probably carried a few pounds more than was healthy for her.
“Yes, but, well, I guess you’re right,” Harriet agreed eventually.
As their guest finished the last of her slice of cake, Janet couldn’t wait any longer.
“So, what brings you to Doveby House?” she asked as casually as she could.
The woman looked up from her plate and smiled sadly. “Thank you both so much for your kindness,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting that and I’m ever so grateful.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Joan said soothingly.
“I don’t even know what name he’s using,” Harriet continued. “I just assumed he was using his own. He isn’t very good at lying. He never has been.”
Even though she was sure she knew the answer, Janet felt she had to ask. “Who isn’t very good at lying?”
“My husband,” Harriet replied, looking back down at the table. “Charles Walters is his name. I don’t know what name he’s using here, but I’m pretty sure he’s staying with you now. He’ll be staying with a woman called Lynne, although she might have used a different name, too.”
“Perhaps you should describe the man,” Joan suggested. “Before we say anything further.”
Harriet nodded. “You have to protect your guests, I understand. I can do better than describe him, though. I can show you a picture.” She
dug through her handbag and pulled out a photo. Janet immediately recognised the couple in the photo as Charles and Lynne Walters.
“Believe it or not, she’s his secretary,” Harriet said now. “The photo was taken at a company event. They really do look like a couple together, don’t they?”
She sighed sadly. “He looked at me like that before we had the children,” she said after a moment. She went back into her handbag and pulled out another photo. This one was older, and it showed a much younger Charles and Harriet on their wedding day.
“You looked so beautiful,” Janet said.
“And now I look so old that my husband is having an affair with a woman who is actually older than me,” Harriet replied bitterly.
“I don’t want to ask any nosy questions,” Janet said, even though she was dying to ask a whole bunch of very nosy questions. “But we’re happy to listen if you want to talk about it.”
Harriet shrugged. “I’ve suspected him of cheating for a long time, but I was busy with the kids and then the grandchildren, and I ignored it and just got on with life. One day Charlotte rang and told me she’d seen her father in London with his secretary and that they looked rather friendlier than she felt was proper. I tried asking Charles about it, but he, well, we just don’t really talk anymore. When this trip came up, well, I decided it was time to find out what was really going on.”
“I’m sorry,” Joan said. “You deserve better.”
“Thank you,” Harriet said quietly. “I’m actually weirdly proud of myself. I drove down to Leeds, where Charles said he was going, but of course, he wasn’t there. Then I started driving around the area, looking for his car. I figured he wouldn’t go too far away. He really hates driving.”
“And you found him yesterday, didn’t you?” Janet asked as things suddenly fell into place.
“I found his car yesterday,” Harriet confirmed. “I parked next to it and waited for them to come back, but they never did.”
“They walked back from town to here,” Joan told her.
Harriet laughed. “I’m so glad they had to suffer a bit,” she exclaimed.
The Ellsworth Case (A Markham Sisters Cozy Mystery Novella Book 5) Page 7
