“Not the easiest to find. Nicely tucked away and that suits. Still, here you are.”
The cherry wood table where they were seated was rather secluded near a back corner of the luxurious inn’s dining room which wasn’t officially open just yet. The dimmed wall sconce lights gave the lush setting a secretive edge.
Edward dug his fork into the egg dish smothered in hollandaise sauce and sprinkled with fresh green herbs. “So, let’s not go round the houses. How is it?”
“Let me ask you something first, Edward.” Berdie fingered the folded fabric napkin at her place setting. “Do you have any idea why your Pip would meet with Gus and Keith Wells?”
“Am I my nephew’s keeper?” he asked between bites.
“It was clandestine, arranged for after hours at the Watergate.”
“First of all, Gus and Keith Wells don’t get on. It will be a cold day in h…,” Edward paused, “in a very hot place before you’d catch those two with heads together.” He lifted his next forkful of food to his lips and stopped. “However, it has been known that Gus may have, occasionally, had a game of chance on the QT, at the pub after hours. Pip’s dropped in a time or two. And lost his shirt, I might add.” He shoved the food in his mouth and chewed. “Very good this, seasoned nicely.”
Edward’s response wasn’t any help to her except to learn that both Gus and Pip enjoyed gaming. But Keith?
“Now tell me what ground you’ve covered so far.” Edward continued eating.
“I’ve spoken with your sister, Wilhelmina, about coming upon Neville Oakes at St. Baldred’s and administering first aid.”
“We did it in such a way that she didn’t really know it was an interview,” Lillie added. “She was in the treehouse.”
Berdie stared at Lillie. We interviewed?
Edward nodded. “She always goes there when she wants to hide away from the world. Silly, but there it is.” He sipped his coffee. “Now Oake’s memorial is over, she’s off with a gaggle of friends to some gathering in Guernsey with my blessing. Meg is captain of the ship at the moment.”
“Is she indeed?” Berdie found that of interest.
“Yes, well your sister, Wilhelmina, didn’t tell us a great deal.” Lillie sounded quite confident as she chattered on.
The fact was, Wilhelmina had told Berdie a great deal, indeed. And, unless the old woman’s memory waned often, not all she explained sat well with Berdie. But she hesitated to tell Edward that. After all, she was his sister.
“Actually, I found Wilhelmina informative,” Berdie countered.
Lillie frowned at Berdie as if she had just stepped on a sensitive toe.
“But tell me, Edward, does Wilhelmina get things turned around, memory lapses, that kind of thing?”
“Wilhelmina? The only time she has a memory lapse is when Pip’s done something utterly stupid. No, she’s sharp. The bearer of a stiff upper lip, old school to the back of her teeth.”
Edward just confirmed what Berdie had thought about Wilhelmina.
“I also spent time with Kit, Neville Oake’s assistant.”
“And?”
“He swears the electrics were turned off before work commenced. Kit even watched Neville do it, the experienced electrician apparently rattling off instructions to Kit as he went. The young man sees no possible way a short in the wiring could have produced live electricity.”
“I was afraid of that.” Edward put his fork down. “Someone turned the electrics back on when Oakes was working?”
“It does seem so.”
“Any ideas yet about who may have done it?”
“At the moment, those who seem to have motive, didn’t have real opportunity as far as I can see. And those who have opportunity have no apparent motive.” Berdie was playing her cards close to her chest. How did she broach the subject, at this point, that Edward’s kin were not above suspicion?
“In other words, you’re not going to tell me specifically who’s on the list.”
“Softly, softly catches the monkey,” Berdie said. “I’m not ready to incriminate anyone, yet. But, mind you, Edward, I’ve several possibilities, and I have no doubt there’s something fishy.”
Edward raised his hand to signal the owner. He came instantly.
Edward pointed his fork at his food. “Please bring two more of the same for my guests, Graham.”
“Right away.”
“Tea, please,” Lillie added and Berdie nodded to the same.
The gentleman politely tipped his head and was off.
“We went to Mr. Oakes’s memorial service.” Lillie sounded enthusiastic. “Some interesting group dynamics there.”
“Oh?” Edward dug back into his food.
Berdie wondered if Lillie were trying to impress Edward with her supposed snooping abilities. She remembered Lillie being more wrapped up in the discomfort of her crutches than any group dynamics.
“What can you tell us about Ruby Turner?” Berdie asked.
Edward’s brows crumpled. “Was she at Oakes’s funeral?”
“Plus Aggie, Gus, and Keith,” Lillie added with zest. “And your sister, Meg, of course.”
Edward’s eyebrows now rose. “And they all walked away from the place with all limbs intact?”
“What does that mean?” Berdie was attentive.
Edward sat back and took a sip of coffee. “As you must be aware, Ruby Turner is sister to our housekeeper.”
“Yes.”
“This doesn’t leave The Four Ducks?”
“Need you ask?”
“Straight out, then. Fitch Dennison, was the fellow who fell to his death whilst making repairs to St. Baldred’s several years back. I mentioned him before. Well, Ruby Turner had an affair with him.” He paused. “Fitch was Aggie’s husband at the time.”
Berdie felt her ire rise. “Meg said he was a womanizer.”
Lillie’s eyes grew wide.
“He put Ruby in the pudding club, as they say. Of course, Turner was furious, not so much at her sister as at Dennison. Distressing for all involved. She convinced Ruby not to tell Dennison that he was going to be a father, encouraged her sister to visit a distant relative before she started showing, to use your ladies’ vernacular, and have the child there, away from Criswell. It was some second cousin in the West Country, I believe.”
“Poor Ruby,” Lillie sympathized.
“Did she raise the baby herself?” Berdie asked.
“In a way. Two years after the birth, she returned to Criswell. Ruby gave the cock and bull story that she had married whilst away, had then gotten divorced, took back her maiden name, and was now a single mother. The village folks actually believed her except for those of us who knew better. Turner, despite her intent to keep it a secret, confided in us about the matter.” Edward ploughed into his breakfast again.
Berdie tapped a finger on the table. “Great deal of trust there for Turner to do that.”
“Jack and Carol Slade, are almost family. They’ve been with us for donkey’s years. We tried to help Ruby, financially,” he said between bites. “The Slades took Ruby and the baby in until she could manage on her own. Jack and Carol came to adore the youngster.”
“Remarkable common sense to keep the child.” Berdie considered the many ramifications of this interesting dynamic that intertwined the Slades, Wells, and Cavendish families. Explosive family dynamics, just as Meg had said.
“Keith and Ruby had a cozy conversation together at the funeral,” Lillie added.
“They would do,” Edward clucked. He put another fork full in his mouth, chewing quickly. “Keith’s fancied Ruby since they were teens. Still, her tastes ran elsewhere, or they did back then.”
“What a tangled web,” Berdie breathed.
Edward dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Oh that and more, I should imagine.”
“My next turn of the spade will be to explore more deeply into the first incident that happened at St. Baldred’s with Dennison’s untimely demise. That, and combing that
church tower with a fine tooth.”
“Yes, good. Be careful. Remember, all must be without arousing suspicion.”
Graham arrived with two cups and saucers, and a floral tea pot spewing steam. He deftly placed them on the table, almost unnoticed, as Lillie offered up more information.
“We talked with your Meg at the funeral.”
“Did you? Yes, she was our family representative for the sad occasion. Everything seemed a bit rushed, arrangements and all.” He released a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”
It sounded like Edward genuinely meant it.
Berdie poured milk into her cup. “The newspaper keeping you busy?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m catching myself coming as I’m going. My editor-in-chief’s in hospital.” Edward frowned. “Wretched situation.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Not half as sorry as I. And, it was a completely avoidable accident.”
“How’s that?” Steam rose from Berdie’s cup as she poured the hot tea.
“It was quiz night at the Black Horse….”
“Quiz night at the Black Horse?” Berdie interrupted with a smile. “Is that still going on? It’s been yonks.”
“Jolly well has.” Edward laughed. “That’s right. You were on the paper’s quiz team a time or two.”
“Only as an alternate. Not like some of the staff. There were a few hard core competitors, like George Molton.”
“George Molton is my editor-in-chief now.”
“No.” Berdie found herself being drawn back into the newspaper world. “We called him Old Mole because he always held his eyes in a squint, no matter what he was doing. I often wondered if his contact lenses bothered him.”
“Still do, apparently.” Edward drew his eyes into a squint.
Berdie laughed.
Lillie cleared her throat.
Berdie was sure it was a reminder that this jaunt down memory lane left Lillie off alone on the grass verge.
“Well, George Molton is your editor. How about that? It’s no surprise that he was at the quiz night. So, you say he’s in hospital?”
Edward nodded. “He just regained consciousness, can’t remember any details.”
“Do you have any idea what happened?”
Edward put his fork down by his now empty plate and sat back in his chair. “Hit and run.”
“What?”
“He stayed at the Black Horse much later than usual, only had a half pint, mind you.”
“He was never a big drinker, apart from rounds of coffee.”
“Crossed the road to get to his vehicle, and boom. Apparently, he stepped right out in front of an oncoming car. No real witnesses. The driver didn’t stop. Police are looking for the vehicle, but frankly they’ve no idea what they’re looking for.”
“But, George was always so careful about being aware of his surroundings,” Berdie remembered out loud. “The old investigative instinct was always at the fore. Surely he’d see the headlights, hear the motor.”
“I agree. It’s not like him.”
“Was it foggy, raining?”
Edward shook his head. “Clear as a bell. That’s what makes it so annoying.”
Lillie crossed her arms as if signaling she was still at the table. “Well, this Mole person, that I obviously don’t actually know, was an alert sort, so….” Lillie took a deep breath.
“Yes.” Berdie looked at Lillie expectantly.
“So maybe he wouldn’t have seen the car if,” she paused as if searching for something remarkable to say, “the headlights weren’t on.”
Berdie leaned forward. By chance, Lillie had stumbled upon a light switch.
“Headlights off.” Edward tipped his head to the side.
His knitted brow made Berdie think that Edward had the same thought as she.
His eyes steeled. “You’re saying the hit and run could have been intentional? George was a target?”
Lillie glanced at Berdie.
“Yes, that’s what you mean, Lillie. Isn’t it?”
Lillie uncrossed her arms and raised her chin. “Certainly.”
Edward was silent. He studied the now empty plate. “I hadn’t even considered that possibility. Who would want to do George in?”
“He’s in the newspaper business,” Berdie reminded. “He’s bound to have enemies.”
“True. But still. Is that enough to go after him?” He looked as if he just discovered that Father Christmas didn’t really give him his first bicycle. “Intentional?”
“Here you are.” The suddenly present Graham placed two brimming plates of food before Berdie and Lillie. “Can I get you anything else?”
“This looks grand,” Lillie piped.
“Thank you. We’re fine.” The aroma rose to Berdie’s nose and teased her taste buds, but she was thinking about George.
Edward stood. His usually playful brown eyes had become anxious. “I must get on. Work awaits. Please do excuse me.” He turned to his friend. “On the slate, please, Graham.” Edward gave him a twenty pound note. “And thank you for your discretion.”
“Anytime, Edward.”
“You’ve asked me more questions than I’ve asked you, Berdie. Still it sounds like things are moving forward.” Edward was clearly preoccupied. He pulled his mobile from his trouser pocket and glanced at the time. “Good. Keep working. And thank you, Lillie, for your assistance.”
Lillie almost gurgled.
“Thank you for breakfast, Edward.” Berdie could see he wasn’t really himself. “Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of the situation here. You go on about your business in London and tell the Old Mole I’ll pray for his recovery.”
Edward nodded and took an uneasy breath. “Let me know of any serious developments here.”
“God go with you, Edward.”
Edward departed and Lillie plunged her fork into the gourmet dish sitting before her shoveling it into her mouth. “Divine,” she murmured.
“Divine intervention more like, that’s what we need to get this tangle sorted. We’ve got three families entwined by unwelcome events. That adds to the complexity of motives. Everyone’s potentially in the frame. And now this. Edward was called to London because George was in a hit and run. And that very day Edward’s gone, Neville Oakes dies at the church. Could the London hit and run be another so called accident? A little Divine intervention certainly wouldn’t go amiss.”
Lillie swallowed, eyes closed. “There’s this hint of sage that gives it a touch of wild flavor.”
Berdie was wasting her breath talking about the investigation right now. Lillie had definitely moved on. Berdie lifted her eyes upward. “At least I know You always listen,” she whispered.
****
“I thought the bus stopped here,” Lillie protested amongst the noise of passing road traffic.
“Lillie, look.” Berdie, though several strides ahead of her friend on the verge, pointed down the thoroughfare. “It’s at the bottom of the road,” she yelled above the din. “See the bus stop? It’s where that woman in the white cardigan is standing.”
Berdie worked at not letting her impatience get the best of her, but she wasn’t doing very well. “We’ve been moving at a snail’s pace since we left the Four Ducks. We’ve missed one bus already, and we’re on course to just miss another.”
“You’ll hold the bus for me.” Lillie stopped and worked to catch her breath.
“What do you want me to do? Stand with open arms in front of it and yell halt like a policeman?”
“You’re not being very helpful.”
“I’m trying to move us along, Lillie.”
A man heading the opposite way on the verge frowned at Berdie and Lillie as he passed them, apparently annoyed at their boisterous conversation.
“Slow down,” Lillie yelled.
Berdie only increased her speed.
“Let me remind you,” Lillie’s words were salted with pants, “despite your recent reach
into the past, you’re not working for that newspaper anymore. So you can cool your going-to-a-fire pace. You….”
A roaring motorbike zoomed by as several horns honked, and Berdie missed the latter half of Lillie’s words.
“Did you hear me, Berdie?”
“No.”
“I said you now work for the—SBI.”
Berdie abruptly stopped and turned. She hadn’t realized how big the gap had grown between them.
“I don’t work for the FBI,” she trumpeted.
“Not the FBI,” Lillie called out, “I said the SBI, the Spiritual Bureau of Investigation.”
“Very droll.” Berdie returned to her swift pace. “Ninety-eight percent of the time it’s simply down to leg work, Lillie.” Berdie listed her to-do list at the top of her voice. “I’ve got to find Dennison’s assistant from years back, follow up on the Gus, Keith, and Pip thing, get back into that church tower for an unobstructed look-see, and do it all in such a way that there’s not even a hint that I’m doing an investigation. And now I need to look into Old Mole’s being run down.”
“Berdie,” Lillie screamed. “What on earth is happening to that woman?”
Berdie swung her head round to see Lillie looking completely past her toward the bus stop beyond. Berdie turned and set her own gaze in that direction to see the woman in the white cardigan, several carrier bags in hand, go down on her knees.
“Somehow I don’t think she’s praying.” Berdie raced to get to the female who was now bent over and appeared to be in great distress.
“Are you all right?” Berdie asked, breathless, on arrival.
The lady didn’t even look up, but stared into the grate that covered a street water drain on which she knelt. “My money,” she moaned.
Berdie let go a sigh. Not a heart attack, then. Really! Still, she felt a certain compulsion to help the poor thing. She bent down and eyed the situation. It was a barred grate with gaps in between that went to some unknown, deep, dark place. “I’d say that’s dreadful luck. It’s gone with no chance to retrieve it now.”
“But I have to.” Her voice quivered, as if she’d cry at any moment. “It’s all I had left after buying my food. Just enough for bus fare.”
Berdie stood and adjusted her shoulder bag. “How far do you have to go?”
All Hallows Dead (Berdie Elliott Mysteries) Page 12
