Murder on the Village Green: A Diane Dimbleby Cozy Mystery
Page 8
Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of a dog squealing, heard even above the sound of all the first responders on the scene and the onlookers starting to convene across the street. Diane and Darrell look over to see Rufus, Carys’ dog, squirming in Richard’s arms. He sees Diane and the inspector staring at him, sets the dog down and approaches them slowly.
“I was just trying to comfort poor Rufus,” says Richard meekly.
“I’m Inspector Darrell Crothers. May I ask who you are?”
“He’s—” Diane starts to be say, but is stopped by a stern glance from the inspector.
“Richard, Richard Butler. I’m one of Mrs. Jones’ caregivers.”
“And you are the one that discovered the body… er… discovered Mrs. Jones?”
Richard nods his head forlornly.
“When did you find her?” asks Darrell.
“I arrived for my shift at four o’clock this afternoon…” says Richard.
“You found Mrs. Jones when you arrived here then?”
“Yes.”
“But Richard, you told me you were in the kitchen when Carys fell!” Diane pipes in.
“Is that true, Richard?” Darrell inquires.
“Yes… yes… sorry, I’m just a little agitated. She was my employer for the last two years after all,” says Richard, wiping sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief.
“Just take a breath Richard, and when you’re ready, tell me the series of events from the time you arrived here.”
Richard heeds the inspector’s advice and continues: “I arrived here a few minutes before four o’clock. I like to come a few minutes early to have a chat with Mrs. Jones before commencing my work. So I did that today, like any other day. We talked about her cruise – she is so enthused… she was so enthused about it – and we talked about what I should cook for dinner. She decided on lamb casserole. As I went into the kitchen, she said she was going upstairs to take a short nap. Not long after, Mrs. Jones fell.”
“And what happened in between you arriving in the kitchen and Mrs. Jones falling?” asks Darrell.
Richard hesitated for at least half a minute before answering, “I started making the casserole of course.”
“But you didn’t, Richard,” says Diane, trying to minimize any sign that she suspected he was lying. “The kitchen was immaculate when I went in there.”
Darrell again darts his eyes disapprovingly at Diane. Whether he is disappointed that she has interrupted his line of questioning or that she walked around Carys’ home, Diane is not sure.
“One last question, Richard,” says the inspector. “You mentioned you are just one of the caregivers Mrs. Jones employed?”
“Yes, myself and Brian serve… served… as Mrs. Jones’ caregivers. Brian started working here perhaps six months ago. At the moment he’s away on holiday with his mother. Mrs. Jones is still quite independent, so she did not mind him taking some time away. She’s so kind to everyone she meets…”
“And I’m assuming you and he both have a key to the house?”
Richard nods his head, yes.
“Thank you for your time, Richard,” says the inspector. “I think you should go home and try to relax. Situations like this are quite traumatic for anybody who encounters them.”
Before Richard takes his leave, Diane nudges the inspector and whispers under her breath for him to take down the man’s contact information. Darrell bites his tongue to keep himself from losing his temper, but agrees with Diane’s recommendation and asks Richard for his phone number and address.
When Richard leaves, Diane walks away from the traffic of all the police personnel and the curious bystanders. She finds a bench in a secluded section of Carys’ garden – the same bench where she and Carys had spent several sunny afternoons chatting away.
Diane concludes that Richard Butler is hiding something. Exactly what though, she is not sure. She did not like to ‘jump to conclusions’, as Inspector Darrell Crothers had nearly accused her of. She liked to keep a clear head and focus on the facts like any respectable investigator would.
But Richard’s inconsistent stories of what happened are certainly worth looking into, aren’t they? First, he said he was cooking when Carys fell. Then he retracted that and said he had not quite started cooking. Then he told Darrell that he found Carys when he arrived for his shift at four o’clock. Then he reverted back to the cooking story.
Diane tries to recall her impressions of Richard from before today. She had not really given him much thought until now, even though she had met him numerous times. He always seemed very polite and willing to do anything to help Carys.
But what did Diane really know about him? With her, at least, Richard rarely if ever shared anything about himself.
Had he shared any personal information with Carys?
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Other Books By This Author
Murder in Bermuda
Murder in the Bahamas
Murder in Jamaica
Murder in Barbados
Murder in Aruba
About The Author
For many, the thought of childhood conjures images of hopscotch games in quiet neighbourhoods, and sticky visits to the local sweet shop. For Penelope Sotheby, childhood meant bathing in Bermuda, jiving in Jamaica and exploring a string of strange and exotic British territories with her nomadic family. New friends would come and go, but her constant companion was an old, battered collection of Agatha Christie novels that filled her hours with intrigue and wonder.
Penelope would go on to read every single one of Christie’s sixty-six novels—multiple times—and so was born a love of suspense than can be found in Sotheby’s own works today.
In 2011 the author debuted with “Murder at the Inn”, a whodunit novella set on Graham Island off the West Coast of Canada. After receiving positive acclaim, Sotheby went on to write the series “Murder in Paradise”; five novels following the antics of a wedding planner navigating nuptials (and crime scenes) in the tropical locations of Sotheby’s formative years.
An avid gardener, proud mother, and passionate host of Murder Mystery weekends, Sotheby can often be found at her large oak table, gleefully plotting the demise of her friends, tricky twists and grand reveals.
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