I didn’t know. “We’ll find out.”
“It doesn’t make much sense, for her to be losing it like this,” she replied. “Either she knows something, or she’s feeling guilty.”
“Well, keep an eye on her,” I said to Ruth, “I’m going to get my phone. And then I’ll call Paul.”
“And if she runs?”
I gave Ruth a once over glace. Ruth was a tall woman. “Maybe now’s a good time to think about taking self-defence classes.”
“I—I—I—I’m not leaving,” Amanda said. “My world is—it’s leaving me.”
“I’ll be back in five,” I said, holding a hand up.
I’d left my bag in the office of the flower shop, with all the commotion, I’d misplaced it when we were on the move again.
Crossing the road with Charlie, we approached Briarbury in Bloom, the sign had been turned to closed, but a simple push of the door opened it.
The store was empty of people but filled with flowers and the smells that came with them. I knew Jonathan was innocent, and Amanda was having a mental breakdown about it all. In my head, the connections were now being met and made, Jon and Amanda had a son, Ben, he was the reason Doreen had banished her daughter.
I walked towards the office, glancing around in search of Max, but he wasn’t close, he’d probably gone in a car after his father, hoping to intervene in some way.
Inside the office, I grabbed my bag and hooked it over my shoulder. I looked around for anything to bring what Paul had said out. Had Jonathan known about the contract Doreen had signed preemptively? According to Amanda, she’d just found it. Jon didn’t know anything, but it wasn’t a done deal. There were so many factors from what he’d told me that they hadn’t agreed on yet.
I sat in the office chair, and pulled open the file drawers, looking for anything to have been recently disturbed. There was nothing out of the ordinary, taxes, invoices, order forms. I’d seen enough paperwork in the past couple of the days to last me the remainder of my life. I was having paperwork blindness from it all.
Woof. Woof.
Charlie roused me from my perusing, reminding me about Amanda and Ruth outside. I grabbed my phone from my bag, and walked out of the office, scrolling through my contacts to find Paul.
Charlie barked again, this time sounding off in the distance.
I followed it, heading out behind the counter and into the delivery bay out the back of the shop.
“Stupid dog,” Max’s voice called out. “There’s strays everywhere.”
“Stray dogs?” a softer voice spoke back. “Mum never let me have one.”
Max chuckled. I could barely see him, standing between wooden pallets.
With my phone, I recorded what I could see of Max.
“Dad will be happy with everything you did for him.”
The soft voice scoffed. “After everything she did, she deserved it.”
Dad? “Ben?” my voice let out. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth and quickly turned, knocking a planter plant with my elbow.
Crunch. It smashed on the ground.
“Who’s that?”
Woof. Woof.
Charlie raced towards me.
A patter of feet followed. They were chasing him.
They were coming straight for me.
TWENTY-FOUR
It was the son. Both of them. They’d murdered Doreen Maidstone. And now they were both coming in my direction.
I turned and hurried back the way I’d come. I had to get to the door, I had to hurry. These were both spritely and young, and I couldn’t outrun both of them—or either of them.
“Eve?” Max said as I reached the glass door, directly behind me, standing at the counter. He grabbed shears from the surface. “Why did you come back?” he asked. “Of all the times, why?”
“I came back for my bag, and then Charlie ran, and I went to find him,” I said, clutching my phone still in my hands, unsure if it was even still recording.
“So, you weren’t spying or anything like that?” he asked.
I shook my head as my throat clenched.
Ben appeared behind Max. “What should we do about her?” he asked, his blank glare looking at me without blinking.
“Depends on what she heard,” Max said. “Because we just found out we’re related, and I don’t want her to tell anyone until I can tell my dad.”
I found out much more than that. “You killed Doreen,” I said, I was right at the door, I could escape before they could reach me, but then we’d both be outside, and I didn’t fancy my odds of trying to run faster or further than either of them at that point. Ruth would see me, I knew that, but even she wouldn’t be able to do much but shout.
“She deserved it,” Ben said.
“And my dad will go to prison for it,” Max admitted. “That wasn’t the plan, I thought you’d pick up on the man who sent the flowers.” He sighed and shrugged. “But this works out as well.”
The longer they spoke, the more I hedged my bets, wondering whether or not I could escape. I turned slightly, facing the door. There was a car outside, it hadn’t been there before.
“Stop!” a rough voice shouted from behind the boys. “You’re under arrest.”
A cold chill ran back against me. My knees week, I collapsed to the ground.
I heard my name called out a moment later. It was like a tinnitus ringing throughout my entire body. Charlie was pressed into my lap, and an officer stood over me. I looked up, I looked around, both the boys were being handcuffed.
“I got them on video,” I said, holding my phone in a shaky hand. “I got them.”
Barker, the tall officer from the crime scene. “You’re lucky,” he said with a smile. “And I didn’t think I’d keep seeing your face around as much.”
Ruth was the next face I noticed. She panicked over me, tapping my arm and reaching around to pull me back to my feet. I’d gone completely faint, with all the action swirling around in my mind, I hadn’t even considered anyone intervening in what was going on. “Amanda called Paul,” she said. “For herself, mainly, but then he came here, and he went around the back with a police officer, and thankfully he did as well, because—” she choked back. “I don’t know what they were going to do.”
I don’t think either of them knew as well. They weren’t going to kill me, I presumed, it would’ve been too suspicious, but they weren’t going to let me leave. I finally smiled. “But I told you,” I said. “I knew it wasn’t Jonathan.”
Ruth smiled. “And I told you, we’re gonna have to stick together,” she said.
“What about self-defence classes?”
From outside, I heard Amanda’s distinct wailing. “My baby.”
He was a killer. They both were. Even if only one of them had done it, it was planned by the two of them, and for what, the sake of family, the sake of feeling wanted. My throat seized again as had my jaw.
Was I doing the same? Going out of my way to feel important, like I was doing something with my life other than writing other fluff articles.
“Evelyn,” Paul growled beneath his breath. “See, I knew when I heard Amanda like a banshee, it must have had something to do with you.”
Or worse, was I doing this to prove a point to Paul? And how much was that point worth—my life?
“You did a good job,” he said. “And the officer over there has taken your phone as evidence. You recorded them admitting to the murder.”
I nodded. “Fine,” I said. “When can I have it back?”
He sighed. “Well, once it’s processed, it can be in the system for a year, maybe, depending on whether or not they admit to guilty charges or end up going to trial and it’s used as evidence.”
“But they—they are guilty,” I said. “And they have admitted to it.”
“Well, we need a statement from them, or a witness to the event,” he said. “But the recording will be used, either way, and it is pretty damning.”
Ruth waved a hand at me, as if t
o tell me which battles to pick. “And Jonathan?” she asked. “You can’t keep him locked up with what’s just happened.”
He nodded. “And once we find out he had nothing to do with this as well, we’ll release him.”
I sighed, but Ruth was right. I had to pick my battles, and I couldn’t well go about trying to fight everything and every decision Paul made. He was following the law, he was following some solid leads, and I was a hand helping in a way—even if unwanted, but definitely necessary.
“I’ll take you home,” Ruth said. “I think we’ve hit our quota of excitement for the afternoon.”
We most definitely had.
Charlie jumped at my ankles, begging to be lifted.
Once in my arm, he jumped further, reaching my face as he licked at my cheeks.
The floor of the flower shop was a mess of objects. It seemed like all the life had been pulled from me, just as the people who’d been inside the shop had also been pulled away and now, a sign, closed for business rolled over both my eyes and the windows of the shop.
TWENTY-FIVE
Two days later.
Monday, February 4th
Monday rolled around and I didn’t have it in me to get ready and go into work. Diane had called in excitement on the Saturday afternoon after everything had happened. She wanted the story, the full story, and she wanted it fast—Wednesday at the latest.
I met with Ruth at Briars for lunch. The flower shop still closed.
“I’m nervous,” I said across the table to Ruth.
“No need to be nervous,” she said back.
Eyes were on me, from all angles, in all directions. Their gazes were like little heated pricks poking at the surface of my skin. I knew I was being watched. “It’s not like I did anything special,” I grumbled.
“You saved a man from going to prison.”
I nodded. Right—but I didn’t save the life that mattered, Doreen. It plagued me, not visiting her sooner. “And for what, two younger lives probably sentenced for life.”
She chuckled. “Why do you try and torment yourself at every opportunity?”
Why did I?
We waited on our guests for a couple minutes longer before they arrived.
Amanda and Jonathan, appearing almost as a pair.
Ruth took a seat at my side as Charlie jumped on my lap to make room.
Both boys had pleaded guilty to the charges immediately, and yet I was still without my phone. Jonathan was released, but for what it was worth, the sadness in his eyes and the additional grey hairs appeared as if he wanted to take the fall for his two sons.
“How are you holding up?” I asked them both as they sat across from me and Ruth at a table.
It seemed they had chemistry together, enough so to create a child. It wasn’t something I figured they were going to address. So, I didn’t mention it, other than in my thoughts.
“I’m fine,” Amanda said.
Ben was under eighteen, and he hadn’t been sentenced yet for the murder. Max, on the other hand was an adult, but he didn’t commit the act, only in the planning.
“I don’t think I can even live around here anymore,” Jon said. “I mean—” he waved his arms high. “Everyone knows, everyone in this place knows what he did. I can’t live here, knowing he did that, for something so stupid.”
A teary-eyed Amanda shook her head. “And Ben,” she said, “we’ve spoken about him, and he knew, I was pregnant, but apparently my mum had told him I’d been sent away and the child adopted out.”
“No,” Ruth said, quickly butting her lips. “I’m—I’m sorry she said that.”
“But it’s okay,” Amanda sighed. “I met with Philip, my mum’s partner, we’re planning the funeral together, her solicitor called. Everything is left to her next of kin, me.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
She shrugged. “Sell it, give my father his land, maybe destroy everything she worked for.” She combed the loose hairs around her face behind her ears. “Apparently, she’d been doing that to me while I was gone. I heard I was a drug addict, a runaway, and a thief.”
Ruth sighed into her seat beside me. “You met with Philip?”
She nodded.
“Philip told us you were blackmailing your mother,” I said.
Her jaw loosened and fell slack. “I—I—I had no money, and Ben would steal from me, use my bank cards, so—so—so I told her, I needed it, or I’d tell everyone why she sent me away. Well, kicked me out.”
“And did she tell you Jonathan had paid her to keep your pregnancy a secret?” I asked, continued from what went unanswered.
They glared into each other’s eyes. Neither of them knew this. It was a narrative none of them seemed to have heard before, but it was something out there now.
“I don’t want to talk about her,” Amanda said. “She’s done more harm than good for me, and for people to think I did anything to hurt her, it hurts me.”
My gut rippled.
“I’m giving away all those roses she loved so much,” Amanda continued. “Overpriced, if you ask me.”
“Well, I’ve offered to take what she had grown,” Jonathan said. “And fulfil the orders and stuff, so if you want to tell the people at the magazine, they’ll get their roses, that’s fine.”
I knew there would be many happy people at the office when I went back to them with this information, but I wasn’t even sure I’d be happy going back there myself.
After having spent so long writing fluff pieces, writing articles about the best chocolates, or the nicest retreats and spa days. I had a bug in me, not the type you needed to water detox for twenty-four hours, but a bug that craved heart-pumping journalism.
“Are you—are you writing another article about Doreen’s murder?” Jonathan quietly asked.
I wasn’t going to lie. I nodded back at him. “It’s my job now.” I knew they were so used to me writing fluff pieces where happiness crawled through the prose like grapes on vines, I wanted to tie their story up an equal dusting of happiness, but I couldn’t.
Real news didn’t always end with happiness.
But for me, it ended with another murder solved.
MURDER AT MAPLE HOUSE
A Silver Lake Cozy Mystery Novel
HUGO JAMES KING
JESSICA LANCASTER
MURDER AT MAPLE HOUSE
A prestigious event hosting wealthy businesspeople,
And fuelled by free-flowing champagne arrives in Briarbury.
But when a dead man becomes the centrepiece,
The fun festivities go south, and the champagne turns sour.
With the identity of the body revealed,
People speculate it could’ve been anyone.
The race is on to prove your innocence,
Or let people think you committed murder.
A cozy murder mystery novel set a fictional Cotswolds village, following female amateur sleuth, her rescue dog, and an entire ensemble of quirky small-town characters. Written in British English.
ONE
Saturday 2nd March 2019
How badly could an event which had taken a month to plan go? If I’d been asked the question during the morning, I would’ve laughed. Giddy with excitement about staying the night in such a fancy manor house with the promise of pedicures and massages in the morning.
But the answer, very bad.
Celebrating ‘Inside the Cotswolds’ fortieth anniversary, a magazine with over five-hundred editions and a readership eclipsing many publications from the parent company; Hastings Powell Publishing. It was a landmark of success, and still, I was leaving.
There was another reason why they were holding the party at such a prestigious manor, and it was because the editor-in-chief, Diane Von Rose, was turning sixty-five. Little was known about how old Diane was to anyone else, but I knew, and she knew I knew.
Perhaps she figured we were similar ages, but quite far from the truth, she was considered eligible for retirement, and
I was considered eligible to work for at least another thirteen years.
Maple House was a large manor outside Briarbury, and from the records I’d looked over while helping Diane prepare, I knew it was an expensive place to hire. She’d invited seventy-eight people, a joint celebration between her birthday and the company, while in conversation she had stressed to me the importance of it being her birthday.
The event was scheduled as an overnight affair, but only for a handful of people, mainly the magazine staff and close friends, but definitely not her husband’s business contacts.
Inside the ballroom of the manor, a stage with a jazz band, over ten tables, and deep orange hue lights hanging low. It amazed me how well it all came together.
“I think they’re serving starters!” Ruth said, slapping my knee.
I’d brought Ruth along as my guest.
We were seated on table two, close to the stage by soft jazz.
I wore a peach dress and a faux fur shawl draped over my shoulders. My hair was lightly curled and decorated with a white floral hair comb clip pushed toward the back of my head. I had Charlie dressed in a miniature dog bowtie; it was all he’d wear without attempting to chew it off.
Ruth wore a green pantsuit, her favourite colour. It went well with her white complexion and symmetrical black bob. Unfortunately, there wasn’t an additional invite for her husband, Frank.
There were six people to a table, and thirteen tables laid out in the large ballroom turned dining area of the manor house. I was seated alongside the other feature’s writer, Howard Sterling, and his wife, Monica, as well as Yvonne Kelly and her husband, the other editor at the magazine, Earl.
On the first table, there was Diane and Patrick, a seat reserved, and three more seats filled with either close friends or investors, possibly both; I hadn’t seen any of them before. They were dressed in three-piece suits, ties, and polished black shoes. Maybe they’d gotten lost looking for something fancier.
Silver Lake Cozy Mystery Bundle Page 25
