The Fenton Case
A Markham Sisters Cozy Mystery Novella
Diana Xarissa
Copyright © 2016 Diana Xarissa
All Rights Reserved
Author’s Note
Welcome to the sixth Markham Sisters novella. I always recommend reading my series books in order. These, like the Aunt Bessie series books, go in alphabetical order to help readers keep track of where they are in the series.
If you are new to the series, the Markham sisters first appeared as minor characters in Aunt Bessie Decides, the fourth book in my Isle of Man Cozy Mysteries series.
Since that time, Janet has kept in touch with Bessie, and these novellas always open and close with parts of the letters that Janet writes to Bessie. I use these excerpts as a way to start and finish each story; you absolutely do not have to read the Bessie books to enjoy this series.
As the stories are set in the UK, I use English spellings and terminology. A glossary and some notes designed to help readers outside the UK with terms that might be unfamiliar is included in the back of the book. The longer I live in the US, the greater the likelihood of Americanisms sneaking into the text, although I do try to eliminate them.
This is a work of fiction and all of the characters are fictional creations. Any resemblance that they may share with any real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The sisters live in a fictional village in Derbyshire. Although some shops or business may bear some resemblance to real-life businesses, that is also coincidental.
Please get in touch with any comments, questions, or concerns. I have a monthly newsletter that provides updates on new releases. All of the information about subscribing to the newsletter or getting in touch is available on the About the Author page at the end of the book.
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Letter to Bessie, part one
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Letter to Bessie, part two
Glossary of Terms
Other Notes
The Green Case
By the Same Author
About the Author
15 January 1999
Dearest Bessie,
Happy New Year to you, my friend. I was pleased to hear that “Christmas at the Castle” was so successful in raising funds for charity, but I was shocked to hear of the two deaths that occurred. As ever, you are welcome to come and stay with us in Derbyshire should you need to get away.
We took a nice break from having guests over Christmas, but I think both Joan and I were happy to get back to work as well. Being retired doesn’t really suit either of us, although I think I would enjoy it more if I could sit and read all day. Joan prefers to keep busy, though, and the bed and breakfast is turning out to be exactly what she needs.
What we didn’t need was a worrying spate of homes being broken into in Doveby Dale.
Chapter One
“How do you find anything in here?” Joan demanded from the doorway to the library.
“I know where everything is,” Janet answered. “What are you looking for?”
Joan shrugged. “I just wanted something to read,” she said. “Maybe some Jane Austen.”
Janet bit back a sigh. Her older sister refused to read anything other than what she considered “classics,” no matter how much Janet tried to persuade her to try other things. “There are a few of her titles on the far wall,” Janet said.
Joan nodded and then crossed the small room and began to study the shelves. Janet went back to work, sorting through the very last pile of books in the room.
One of the reasons the sisters had recently purchased Doveby House was the library, crammed with books. Both retired schoolteachers, the sisters had been planning for a quiet retirement with occasional travel and a great deal of leisure. Janet, usually the more adventurous of the sisters, had been shocked when Joan suggested that they buy a bed and breakfast. An unexpected inheritance had put them in a position where doing so was suddenly possible. Doveby House was the only property that they’d considered, and they’d made a fairly low offer, expecting it to be rejected.
Now, some months into owning the house and running the business, Janet still wasn’t sure how she felt about their uncharacteristic impulsiveness. Joan loved cooking and baking and she seemed to be enjoying feeding their guests, even if neither sister felt totally comfortable with strangers in the house. Janet had been devoting most of her energy to rearranging the library, which kept her away from the guests and allowed her to enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by books for hours at a time.
“We have a couple arriving tomorrow,” Joan told her sister as she pulled a book from the shelf in front of her. “They just rang this morning.”
“I thought we were taking a break for the holidays,” Janet complained.
“It’s the seventh of January,” Joan replied. “I think the holidays are over, don’t you?”
Janet made a face. “I suppose so,” she said. “If they must be.” Left to her own devices, Janet would have left the Christmas decorations up for at least another month, but Joan was far too sensible for that. Joan refused to bake mince pies or Christmas cake in June, as well, no matter how much Janet begged.
“Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer will be here tomorrow afternoon, just for the weekend. I’m hoping to have at least one couple for next weekend as well, but I do think that January and February will be fairly quiet. I don’t expect many people take holidays in the winter months.”
“At least not to Derbyshire,” Janet replied. “It’s cold and wet here. I understand the Canary Islands are lovely this time of year, though.”
“I’m quite content here,” Joan said. “I can’t imagine what I’d do with myself on a beach all day.”
“You could read,” Janet suggested.
“Yes, well, I’m happy enough doing that here, indoors.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Janet asked. She knew the small section of books by Jane Austen was right in front of her sister.
“No, or rather, not exactly,” Joan said, flushing. She went back to looking at the shelf, leaving Janet frowning at her.
“I know I haven’t unpacked your copies of her books, but the ones that came with the library should be right in front of you,” Janet said.
“Yes, well, I thought I might try something a bit different,” Joan said, looking intently at the shelf. “I can’t imagine how you’ve arranged the books, though. I can’t seem to find anything.”
“They’re arranged by genre and then alphabetically by author,” Janet explained. “What were you looking for, exactly?”
Joan shrugged. “Never mind. I’ll have a good look around once you’ve finished in here.” She turned and headed towards the door.
“What did you think of the Agatha Christie book I lent you?” Janet asked, suddenly suspicious.
“Oh, that? It was, well, it wasn’t bad. As you said, her books are nearly classics, aren’t they?”
Janet swallowed a smile. “They are,” she agreed. “And between the titles I brought with me when we moved and the ones that were already in the house, I think we have a copy of nearly everything she wrote.”
“Do we?” Joan said.
Janet could tell that her sister was trying to act as if she weren’t inter
ested. “I’ve put them all here, in the mystery section,” she told Joan. “Maybe you’d like to try one or two more, just to see what you think.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Joan replied. “I’ve never been much of a fan of murder mysteries.”
“Oh, do give another one a try,” Janet said. “Here, try one of these.” She pulled a pair of books off the shelf and handed them to Joan. “They both feature Hercule Poirot, my favourite detective.”
“Yes, well, I’ll take them, but I won’t promise to read them,” Joan said. “I do have to get the house ready for our guests.”
Janet chuckled to herself as Joan left the room. She’d have to watch the shelf of Christie’s books and see what Joan borrowed next. And once her sister had read them all, Janet would have to think of someone to recommend next.
She sorted through the large stack of books on the desk in front of her, sighing as she spotted another non-fiction book about accountancy. She already had two shelves full of books about the subject she considered tedious at best. Now she’d have to move everything around to accommodate the additional titles.
“Maybe we should give these two away to a good home,” she muttered as she tried and failed to squeeze them in with the similar books. She gave up and put them down on the corner of the desk. The rest of the books in the pile were more easily dealt with, sliding into small gaps that she’d left scattered around the room. Now she stood in the centre of the space and turned in a slow circle.
“It’s just about perfect,” she said, gazing at row upon row of lovely books. The sorting had taken a long time, but she was really happy with the final results. The very best thing about the way she’d arranged the room was that she’d ended up with her very favourite mysteries in the section right next to the large, overstuffed leather chair that she loved.
Now she sank into the chair and pulled out a book at random. Like so many books in their library, the author was completely unknown to Janet. She read the back of the book and shrugged. It sounded more like a thriller than a mystery, but she’d give it a try.
“If you aren’t too busy, maybe you could give me a hand with the cleaning,” Joan said sharply from the doorway.
Janet blinked and pulled herself out of the fictional world she’d been completely immersed in. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she said.
“Clearly you didn’t hear the vacuum, either,” Joan replied. “I’ve been dusting and vacuuming all afternoon while you’ve been sitting with your feet up.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” Janet replied, not entirely truthfully. “I was just going to read the first chapter, and I found myself rather caught up in the story. But doesn’t the library look wonderful? I’ve finished it, finally.”
“It looks very nice,” Joan conceded. “Aside from the boxes of books in the corner and the two on the desk.”
Janet frowned. “The boxes are full of the books we brought with us,” she replied. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to get rid of some of the books already on the shelves in order to find room for those.”
“There must be some books in here that even you can bear to part with,” Joan said.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Janet said, reluctantly. She hated the thought of getting rid of any books, ever, even ones that she knew she’d never read.
“You should have made a pile of books that you know we don’t want,” Joan told her. “There wasn’t really any point in finding shelf space for everything, was there?”
“I suppose not,” Janet sighed. “We can start by getting rid of the entire section on bookkeeping and accountancy,” she suggested.
“Perhaps we should keep one or two books on the subject to help us with running the business,” Joan countered.
“I might agree, except all of the books are so very old, I’m not sure anything in them is still relevant.”
Janet pulled out a book and showed it to her sister. “This one was published in 1923. It’s more of a history text than a useful guide.”
“I wonder if any of these have any value,” Joan said thoughtfully. “Some old books can be worth a small fortune.”
“I can’t imagine any of these are worth anything at all,” Janet said. “But we can take them to William Chalmers, if you want. Maybe he’ll buy them by the inch for displaying in his shop, at least.”
The man in question had recently opened a small antiques and collectibles shop in the centre of the tiny village of Doveby Dale. Before he’d opened for business, he’d offered to buy a row or two of books from the sisters to use for display purposes. Janet and Joan hadn’t liked the man or the aggressive way he’d approached them and had refused to consider the request.
Over the past few months, however, relations had thawed between them. Recently William had given the sisters one of his paintings, and they were hoping to purchase more from him as he completed them. The last time they’d seen him, he’d hinted that he might be interested in getting to know Janet better, which was an unexpected complication. The sisters hadn’t seen him since before Christmas, and Janet knew that was at least in part due to her reluctance to deal with that particular issue.
“I’ll get a box,” Joan said. “Once you’ve cleared out some of the books we don’t want, you can find room for the ones we brought with us.”
Janet made a face at her sister as soon as Joan’s back was turned. The boxes of books that they’d moved with them was full of Joan’s classics. Once those boxes were unpacked, Janet might struggle to get Joan to try new authors.
Joan brought two empty boxes back with her and it didn’t take them long to fill them both. A few books on animal husbandry joined most of the books from the two shelves of accounting titles. Janet also threw in three field guides to the native birds of Wisconsin, Idaho, and New Mexico.
“I can’t imagine we’ll ever travel to the US,” she told Joan. “And if we do, I don’t know that we’ll want to bird watch in any of those places.”
“What about the books on the desk?” Joan asked as each sister lifted a heavy box.
“Oh, I’ll get them,” Janet said, piling the extra books on top of her closed box. “The leather one is pretty, I will say. Too bad it’s about such a boring subject.”
The pair walked from the library to the sitting room at the front of the house.
“When can we take them to William?” Joan asked as she put her box down on a small side table.
“Oh, goodness, I don’t know,” Janet replied, flustered by the thought of seeing the man.
“Why don’t we take them tomorrow morning?” Joan asked. “We’ll want to do some grocery shopping for our guests. We can stop in Doveby Dale on our way out to the shops.”
“I suppose,” Janet agreed without enthusiasm.
“If you aren’t interested in the man, just tell him so,” Joan said.
“I just don’t know, I mean, there’s Edward, you see.”
“I don’t see at all,” Joan countered. “Edward was here for a few days, fed you some outlandish story and hasn’t been seen since. You should be well over him by now.”
Janet flushed and looked down at her feet, unable to explain how she felt about the handsome and sophisticated man who’d stayed with the sisters for a few days right after they’d purchased Doveby House.
“So we’ll have an early start and be at the antique store when it opens at nine,” Joan said in her “don’t argue with me” voice.
“Okay.” Janet didn’t bother to argue. She put her box on top of the one Joan had just put down, her arms tired from the heavy weight of so many books. As she turned to walk away, she suddenly realised that she’d put the box on top of the corner of her cardigan. She pulled it loose, causing the box to tip forward. With a gasp, she managed to catch the box before it slipped completely off the table, but the two books she’d piled on top of the box slid sideways and then crashed to the floor.
“I hope those weren’t valuable books,” Joan tutted as Janet bent over to pick them up.
One book h
ad fallen open and Janet couldn’t close it fast enough as she spotted the chapter heading “Tax Reporting for Small Farmholdings.” The other book had landed on its side, its cover now ajar. Janet picked it up and frowned.
“This isn’t a proper book,” she exclaimed. “It’s been hollowed out inside.”
Joan watched as Janet slowly lifted the cover. Inside, where the pages should have been, was a white box.
“What have you found now?” Joan demanded as Janet slowly opened the box.
“It’s a necklace,” Janet said. “A gorgeous filigree necklace.” She held it out to Joan, who took it from her.
“It’s very delicate,” Joan said, studying the tiny squares that were joined together at their tops. “And very tarnished.”
“Do you think it’s silver?” Janet asked.
Joan turned it over in her hands. “I can’t see any hallmarks, but I don’t have my glasses.”
Janet took the necklace back and studied the clasp. “I think there’s a hallmark of some sort,” she said. “But I can’t read it. I don’t really care, though, I think it’s beautiful.”
“It will be, once it’s cleaned up,” Joan agreed. “I think I have some silver polish in my room. Maybe we should take this to William tomorrow as well.”
“Or not,” Janet said. “Maybe we should just keep it and not worry about what it’s worth.”
Chapter Two
“Before we do anything else, we should check all the other books,” Joan said.
“I should have thought of that,” Janet exclaimed. She quickly opened the top box and checked each book. Disappointingly, they were all just books. Joan took the other box and went though it.
“Just regular books,” she told Janet as she repacked the box. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice that when you were cleaning and sorting the books.”
“I would have been more likely to notice if it had been fiction,” Janet said with a laugh. “The nonfiction I simply moved from one shelf to another. I didn’t have any interest in,” she glanced at the title on the fake book, “business analytics, whatever they are.”
The Fenton Case (A Markham Sisters Cozy Mystery Novella Book 6) Page 1
