The Remains in the Rectory

by Shéa MacLeod

  He fidgeted, pulling at a loose bit of yarn on his sweater vest. The mustard color clashed with his ruddy complexion. “Well, there used to be a local constable back in the day, but budget cuts, you know. The nearest station is in Chipping Camden and they are, alas, stuck on the other side of the flooded roads, just as we are.”

  “Then what are we supposed to do?” Lucas demanded. “Surely they don’t expect us to just leave the body sitting in the middle of the library. This is a murder scene.”

  “Er, no. Of course not. That’s where Colonel Frampton comes in.” Rupert waved over a man who’d been hovering in the shadows. He was tall and thin with a shock of unruly white hair, enough wrinkles to create a road map, and a pair of surprisingly shrewd blue eyes. “The colonel is retired army.”

  “I also served for a short time with the constabulary up in Yorkshire,” the colonel said in a plummy baritone. His accent was less London and more Northern, like Marilyn’s. “I have training in the collection of evidence and the preserving of a crime scene. The police have asked me to take over and preserve the body and crime scene as best I can.”

  Jez peered at him from her perch on the stairs. “And how do you propose to do that?”

  “First I will examine the body and take careful photographs of its position. Then I will wrap it in a clean sheet and store it in the hotel’s walk-in fridge.”

  “With the food?” Marilyn Toppenish looked horrified. Her ample bosom heaved beneath mauve polyester.

  “We have two of them,” Rupert explained calmly. “I’ll have Bill shift all the food into one of them and leave the other for the—er—body.”

  “Precisely,” Colonel Frampton agreed. “We shall also seal off the library until such a time as the proper police arrive.”

  “There goes any attempt at intelligent pursuits,” muttered the professor, her expression turning sour. Her husband gave her an irritated nudge. “What? It’s true.”

  “What I need is someone to assist me,” Colonel Frampton continued as if he’d never been interrupted. “Is there anyone here with any sort of police experience?”

  “I was with the Israeli Army,” Lucas offered. “I can certainly assist in moving the body.”

  “I’ve helped the police solve several murders,” I said. Everyone turned to stare at me. “Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t kill them. I just have a penchant for finding dead bodies.” I realized as I said it how bad that sounded. Oh, well. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.

  Colonel Frampton eyed me with what looked like concern. I gritted my teeth. I was used to those looks from the police back home. I did not need it from a complete stranger. Frampton cleared his throat. “Very well. Mr. Salvatore, if you will assist me, I’m sure we can have everything under wraps in no time at all. Once we’ve removed the body, Rupert can lock the library door until the police arrive.”

  Everyone stood around and watched as Lucas carefully used his cell phone to document the body’s position. As the flash on his phone went off I realized that Blodgett was wearing a forest green sweater. He’d been the one arguing with Carsley. Interesting.

  I took a step back, moving closer to Jez. “You know,” I kept my voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear. “Somebody should search Blodgett’s room.”

  She stared at me with wide eyes. “Won’t the police get pissed off?”

  I grinned. “Not if they don’t know. We’ll be careful. Put everything back where we find it. And we should wear gloves.”

  She looked eager. “Where will we find gloves?”

  “I’m betting housekeeping has plenty. They don’t clean those toilets bare handed, believe me.” In my early twenties I’d done a stint as a house cleaner. I wore gloves for everything. People are gross.

  “There’s a supply closet upstairs,” she said. “We can check in there. They don’t keep it locked. I know because I needed toilet paper, so I just went and got some. And some extra towels. They never give you enough.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  We slipped up the stairs as quietly as possible. We needn’t have bothered. Nobody noticed. They were all too busy fixating on the body removal. Like I said, people are gross.

  The supply closet was at the top of the stairs. Jez opened the door and popped inside. “Found ‘em.” She handed me a pair of pink, rubber gloves. They were thick and a little too big, but they would definitely keep us from leaving fingerprints all over Blodgett’s room.

  “Do you happen to know which room is his?” I asked.

  “Sure. He’s in the one next to mine. I don’t know how we’re going to get in, though.”

  I held up my key. “These old locks aren’t as secure as you might think. The key may not fit, but a little finagling and you can make it work.”

  She looked doubtful. “If you say so.”

  Sure enough, a little wiggling around in the lock and the door opened. The drapes were drawn so the room was almost black. We stepped inside and closed the door. I pulled on my pink gloves and flipped on the light switch. The room was similar to the one Lucas and I were staying in, except smaller and lacking a fireplace and seating area. There was a small desk up under the one window and an antique wardrobe next to it. The bed was a sleigh bed instead of a four poster and the color scheme was sage green and a sort of mushroom brown. The tiny bathroom contained a shower and no bathtub.

  “I’ll search the desk. You look in the wardrobe.”

  “What are we looking for?” Jez asked.

  “Any clue as to what he’s doing here or why he was murdered. Somebody at this hotel must have killed him.”

  “But no one knew him,” she said. “Not until he arrived, anyway. He wasn’t a pleasant man, but I can’t see anyone here killing him.”

  I gave her a look. “Sure, that’s what they say, but I saw him arguing with James Carsley right before I went ghost hunting with you.”

  “Doesn’t mean they knew each other.”

  “True,” I admitted. “But you don’t usually go around stabbing people you don’t know. I mean unless you’re a mugger or something.”

  The wardrobe doors creaked as Jez opened them. I turned my attention to the desk. The top held a pad of paper with the hotel’s logo on it along with matching pens in a ceramic holder painted with apple blossoms. The drawer contained extra pens and paper. Nothing else. I held the notebook up to the light, but it was blank. Didn’t look like Blodgett had used it.

  “I found something.” Jez’s voice was tinged with excitement.

  That got my attention. “What?”

  “His computer.” She held up a slim, silver laptop.

  “Let me see. Maybe there’s a clue in it.” She handed it over and I quickly powered it up. “Curses. It’s password protected.”

  “Oh, I’ve read about this. Try ‘god.’”

  I gave her a look. “God?”

  “Yes. Apparently, it’s one of the most used passwords.”

  Figured. I typed in the letters and got the flashing notice of doom. “Didn’t work. How about ‘password?’”

  “Oh, good one!”

  That didn’t work either. “Any other thoughts?”

  She tapped her chin, gaze lifted to the ceiling as if for inspiration. “123456.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Try it.”

  I did. Still nothing. Irked, I stabbed the “1” key several times and hit “enter.” To my surprise, it worked. “Look. He’s got several files on his desktop. This one’s marked ‘story.’ Wonder what that’s about?” I opened it. Inside were several documents marked with chapter numbers. “Looks like Jeffrey Blodgett was working on a novel.”

  “I wonder if he was any good,” Jez mused. “Read it.”

  I selected a chapter at random and began reading aloud. The story revolved around a character named “Geoffrey Padgett” who was locked up in prison for a ‘minor’ crime of which he was ‘mostly’ innocent. The chapter involved a confrontation between some prisoners. “Jeffrey
and Juan straightened them out. There would be no more jumping the queue at breakfast. Not with their digits missing.”

  “Ew. He chopped off their fingers? Because they cut in line? What a nut job.”

  “Clearly some wacky prison revenge fantasy,” I agreed. “Probably trying to get back at people who beat him up.” I shook my head and kept reading. “Jeffrey and Juan decided to celebrate their victory over the gang. They went back to their cell. Juan’s hands drifted to his jeans button... Oh, my.” I slammed the laptop shut, my cheeks turning pink.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Apparently Jeffrey Blodgett was into more than just revenge fantasy.”

  Jezz’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it...oh!” Her eyes widened. “He was writing prison porn?” She hissed.

  “Yep. And I think it was based on reality.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Geoffrey Padgett? Come on. If that isn’t about as close to Jeffrey Blodgett as you can get, I don’t know what is.”

  “Could be just a fantasy,” Jezz pointed out. “Not something that really happened.”

  “True,” I admitted. “But I have a feeling there’s more to it. I need to do some research.” I handed her the laptop. “Put this back where you found it and let’s get out of here.”

  WE WERE ABLE TO ESCAPE Blodgett’s hotel room and return the rubber gloves with none the wiser. Then we headed to Jez’s room to use her computer.

  “You’re frowning,” she said as she ushered me into the room. Hers was identical to Blodgett’s except the drapes were drawn allowing the weak sunshine to illuminate the place. Her soft furnishings were cream and butter yellow and someone had left a vase of fresh yellow roses on her desk.

  “There wasn’t any blood at the crime scene,” I said.

  “You’re thinking the body was moved?”

  I gave her a surprised look.

  “What? I watch the Investigation Discovery Channel.”

  I laughed. “Okay, you got me. Yeah, I’m thinking he may have been killed elsewhere and dragged into the library. It would explain the lack of blood. Still...” I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense. The killer would have had to drag him right through the front hall. Anyone could have seen it. I mean, he wasn’t a small man. I’m not sure one person could have moved him. Look at Lucas and the colonel. It took both of them to lift him.”

  “Yeah. It doesn’t make a lot of sense,” she agreed. “But what other explanation is there?”

  “Who knows? First let’s figure out who this guy is.”

  She sat down at the desk and flipped open her laptop. With a few key strokes she brought up a search on Jeffrey Blodgett. “There’s a whole lot of Jeffrey Blodgetts. This one’s a doctor.”

  I squinted at the tiny photo. “Definitely not him. Besides, this one’s in New Hampshire.”

  “I’m getting pages and pages of Blodgetts in the US. Let me add ‘UK’ to the search.” She tapped a couple of keys. “Still tons of the wrong ones. Wait...look at this.” She clicked on a link and up came a news article on a trial from nine years ago. “Holy cow,” she said. “Would you look at that?”

  I squinted at the article. “According to this, he was arrested for possession of stolen property. Eventually they convicted him of burglary as well. I was right about that story! He’s been in prison for the last nine years. Only got out a week ago.” The article contained a picture of Blodgett from ten years ago along with an image of the officer who’d arrested him.

  “And he came here,” Jez said. “I wonder why?”

  I continued reading. “He stole from a church?”

  “Yep. St. Oswin’s. It’s right here in the village.”

  I glanced at her. “The haunted church?”

  “That’s the one. We should go talk to Father Thomas. He can tell us more, I’m sure. He’s been here for fifteen years.”

  “Catholic priest?”

  “Nope. Church of England. Technically, I guess he’s a reverend, but around here they still call them Father. I like it. It’s old fashioned.”

  “Then I think it’s time you and I go to church.”

  She grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

  We found Lucas standing in the entry hall with Colonel Frampton supervising as Rupert locked up the library. Pity. It had been such a cozy, relaxing room. Now the only place to chill was the drawing room with all the other crazies. The colonel pocketed the key. “I’ll keep this safe. Chain of custody and all.”

  “Hey, Lucas,” I said, “we’re going into the village to explore the haunted church.”

  “Oh no, dear girl, you are not,” Colonel Frampton snapped as if I were one of his troops.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need alibis for the time of death. Come along. I’ve got everyone in the drawing room.”

  With an eye roll, I followed him into the drawing room, Lucas and Jez hot on my heels. Of course, I knew alibis needed established and I’d hoped to be in on the questioning. I just didn’t like that Frampton had got to it before me.

  Jez sat down near Marilyn Toppenish who was knitting away as if nothing unusual was going on, a new box of chocolates on the table next to her. Lucas leaned against the mantle looking swoony and brooding. The professor and her husband were sitting at the gaming table and the Carsleys huddled on the couch. Lavender Wu was in the armchair on the other side of Marilyn. She kept throwing Lucas smoldering glances for which I wanted to punch her. I joined the group at the gaming table. Rupert hovered in the background looking ashen and ruffled. Next to him was Bill, calm and collected as ever in a plum colored cashmere sweater. Anka was armed with a feather duster and her usual sullen expression.

  Colonel Frampton whipped a pen and notebook out of his breast pocket and cleared his throat. “Now then,” he said, his thick, white mustache bobbing up and down like a caterpillar. “As you all know, Jeffrey Blodgett has been killed and the police have put me temporarily in charge. I need to know where everyone was at the time of the murder.”

  “What time was the murder?” Marilyn asked, popping a chocolate into her mouth.

  “I saw Blodgett arguing with James Carsley just after breakfast,” I piped up. “Then I found him dead two hours later. That would put the death between nine and eleven this morning.”

  “Yes, thank you, Ms. Roberts. Very precise.” The colonel straightened his navy sports jacket and turned a beady eye on James. “I suppose I should start with you, Mr. Carsley. What were the two of you arguing about?”

  “Nothing,” James snarled, his face turning a mottled red. He looked out of place in the elegant room with his track suit and scuffed sneakers. His sandy hair was a bit too long and hung in his eyes giving the impression he was hiding. “It was stupid. He’d said something offensive to my wife and I wanted to let him know it wasn’t appreciated. He was alive when I left the library.”

  Monica Carsley kept her gaze on her hands, twisting the hem of her ugly mustard sweatshirt. She never once looked up while James talked. There was no doubt in my mind that he was lying about the argument.

  “What time was that?” Colonel Frampton asked.

  “Not sure.” Carsley shrugged. “Maybe a quarter past nine.”

  “Where did you go after that?”

  “To my room. I needed a shower. I didn’t come back down until after Ms. Roberts found the body.” James crossed his arms and set his jaw, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

  “Anyone who can collaborate?” the colonel asked.

  “No,” James bit out. He slid a look toward Anka. “Well, she saw me go in the room, but she was gone when I came out.”

  “Anka?” The colonel turned toward the maid.

  “Yes,” she said in a thick accent, her tone as sullen as her face. “I woss dere. He vent in room ven he say he did.”

  “And where were you between nine and eleven?” the colonel asked.

  She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. It reminded me of an exasperated teenager. “Cleaning.
Like I supposed to.”

  “Anyone see you?”

  “I was in the kitchen getting ready for lunch the entire time,” Bill offered. “Anka came in shortly after ten to help me.”

  “I saw her earlier,” Rupert said. “I took up a load of clean towels. That was just before ten.”

  “I saw her, too.” The professor spoke up. She was a tall, spare woman overly fond of tweeds. “Professor Abigail Huxton-Bennington. I exited my room at nine-twenty and saw the maid cleaning.” Which meant that at least from nine to ten, Anka was pretty safe. “I passed her as I went downstairs to the library. I was interested in one of the volumes, so took the opportunity to do a bit of research. I arrived approximately twenty-two minutes past nine and left at ten thirty. It was empty the entire time, save myself. From ten thirty until Ms. Roberts found the body, I was taking tea in the bar.”

  “True,” Colonel Frampton said. “I saw her.” I shot him a look. His cheeks turned a bit red. “I saw her enter the library and popped my head in to say hello. Then I went to the bar for, ahem, my own tea. I was there until she came in.”

  Which was only sort of an alibi. “If it’s true that Blodgett wasn’t in the library that whole time, he must have left and come back later when he was killed. Where was he?” I asked.

  No one seemed to know. There was a lot of shrugging and head shaking.

  The colonel cleared his throat again. “Back to the matter at hand. Mrs. Carsley, where were you.”

  “In here,” she said, her voice so soft I almost couldn’t hear it. “I was reading a novel.”

  “It’s true,” Marilyn Toppenish boomed. “I was here knitting. Your handsome boyfriend was in here, too.” Marilyn winked at me. “Working away on that laptop of his.”

  “I was in bed,” Lavender Wu said with an air of disdain. “After last night, I felt I needed a lie down.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  She gave the colonel a dirty look. “Hardly.”

  “I was ghost hunting,” Jez said. “Viola was with me. We never saw Blodgett.”

  “And I was taking a stroll in the garden,” Martin Huxton-Bennington piped up. “I felt the need of fresh air.”