by Shéa MacLeod
“She really should be more careful,” Jez muttered as she strolled up to me, half-empty sherry glass in hand. She shoved her glasses a bit farther up on her nose. “She’s got diabetes, you know.”
“Really? How do you know?”
“She told me. She’s a bit of a talker,” Jez said dryly.
She wasn’t kidding. I’d experienced Marilyn’s garrulousness myself. “Isn’t it dangerous for her to drink alcohol and eat chocolates?”
Jez shrugged. “Depends on how well under control it is. With insulin and a careful diet, she could eat or drink a small amount. Unfortunately, from what I’ve seen, Marilyn has a terrible diet and she’s constantly eating those chocolates. She’s gone through three boxes in the last two days.”
“Maybe she’s just going a little crazy because she’s on vacation.” I’d been known to overindulge a time or two myself. Visions of sticky toffee pudding danced in my head.
“Maybe,” Jez admitted. “But it’s super dangerous. And an ambulance wouldn’t be able to get through if something went wrong.”
Scary thought. I hadn’t really considered that aspect of being trapped. I was more concerned with the police and the dead body in Rupert’s refrigerator. Not to mention the remains of Robbie Carsley still half plastered behind the rectory wall.
“How’d the ghost hunting go?” I asked, forcing my overactive imagination away from the crime scene.
“Nothing yet,” she said cheerfully, “but it’s early.” She polished off the rest of her sherry. “I’m going to take a quick cat nap and then do another pass around midnight. Join me? It could be fun.”
The thought of that creepy attic at night made me shiver. “No thanks. I like my beauty sleep.”
“Suit yourself. ‘Night.” Jez wandered out of the room. No one bid her goodnight.
James and Monica Carsley were once again in their places on the sofa under the window. They sat as far apart as they could without looking like they were avoiding each other. James had eschewed sherry in favor of beer, which he was drinking straight out of the bottle, much to Rupert’s disgust. Monica had barely touched her sherry. She looked wan and had dark circles under her eyes. I wondered if she’d been sleeping and how the news of Robbie’s death had affected her. Had she even known him? I made a mental note to get Monica alone and ask about her marriage and her brother-in-law.
Lucas was having a chat with the Colonel in the far corner. Their voices were a low rumble and every now and then the Colonel would glance at somebody or other, his thick eyebrows beetled with suspicion.
Bill had set aside the canapés and was fiddling with the lights using his cell phone. Personally, I thought it was kind of cool that he could control the dimmer switch with an app, but Marilyn wasn’t having it. Every time he’d change the settings, she’d snarl at him, “Do you mind? I’m trying to knit.” With the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, I was surprised she could hold the needles.
Lavender Wu was dressed in the same clothes she’d arrived in. They were a little more crumpled than before, but her hair and makeup were flawless. Between pages of her book, she cast hungry glances at Lucas. I was torn between laughing at her and punching her in the face.
I noticed Professor Huxton-Barrington and her husband were at the gaming table again. This time playing cribbage. I decided it was as good a time as any to ask the professor about the letter opener.
“Professor,” I said cheerfully, pulling up a chair to the gaming table. “Mr. Huxston-Barrington.”
“Oh, call me Martin,” he said with a charming smile.
“Martin, then. I’m Viola.” I turned to the professor. “May I call you Abigail?”
“No.”
All righty then. I gave her a tight smile. “Professor, I have a question for you. About the letter opener.”
Her expression was cold, disinterested. Her slightly protuberant eyes remained fixed on her cards. “You mean the murder weapon.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “You see, I noticed it when I was in the library earlier. Rupert says it was always kept out on the desk. Easily available to anyone passing by. I wondered, when you were in the room, did you notice if the letter opener was on the desk?”
“Actually, I know it wasn’t.” She counted her hand and moved her peg along the board. “I needed it to take a staple out of some paperwork for a class I’m teaching next month, and I couldn’t find it. It wasn’t on the desk or in the drawer. I even looked underneath the desk just in case someone might have knocked it off. It wasn’t there.”
“So the killer must have taken it before you entered the room,” I said.
She seemed to visibly relax, as if realizing the letter opener going missing before she got there spoke to her innocence. “I would say so, yes.”
“You see, dear,” Martin said, patting her pale hand. “You can’t possibly be a suspect.”
I didn’t bother to point out that she wasn’t exactly cleared. After all, it was easy enough to lie, but she seemed to be telling the truth. And I couldn’t see how or why she would kill Blodgett.
“Is there anything else?” she asked in her carefully enunciated tones.
“No. Thanks. You’ve helped a lot.” I stood up. “Did you ever get the staple out?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“Just curious if you managed to get the staple out. Since you couldn’t find the letter opener.” I gave her a vacant smile. Nobody home here. Just asking stupid questions.
“I did, actually,” she admitted. “I used my nail file.”
“How clever.”
“Indeed.” She narrowed her eyes. Apparently my guileless act wasn’t fooling her.
I strolled over to the window. Outside it was already dark. Rain pattered against the windows, lighter now as if the early downpour had worn itself out.
“Learn anything interesting?” I asked Lucas as he joined me. He wrapped a warm arm around my shoulders and bent his head closer to mine.
“Unfortunately, no. The colonel was more interested in reminiscing about his time in Africa than about the matter at hand. You?”
“The professor claims that when she arrived in the library, the letter opener wasn’t there. It was very definitely there earlier, so someone must have taken it sometime between when I observed the argument between Blodgett and Carsley, and nine-twenty when the professor arrived in the library.”
“Interesting,” Lucas said thoughtfully. “Which means whoever killed Blodgett had to have already planned to kill him with the letter opener.”
“Exactly. And there’s just one person it could have been.”
Lucas lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I gave him a wolfish smile. “James Carsley.”
Chapter 11
The Body At Breakfast
TRACKING DOWN JAMES Carsley was easier said than done. By the time I realized he had to have taken the letter opener, he and Monica had already left the drawing room.
“I believe they went upstairs,” Rupert said apologetically. “You may have to wait until the morning.”
“This can’t wait,” I snapped. We were about to solve a murder, for crying out loud!
Lucas collected the colonel and explained the situation. Colonel Frampton was surprised to say the least. “Are you certain? He has an alibi.”
“His alibi is that he was in the shower. Not exactly iron clad,” I said sarcastically.
The colonel let out a harrumph. “Very well. Let us see what he has to say for himself.”
The three of us tromped upstairs. I could hear the murmurings of the rest of the group as they gathered at the bottom of the stairs, unwilling to be left out entirely. Lucas hammered on the door to the Carsley’s room. The door swung open immediately revealing Monica already in her robe. It was terry cloth, like mine at home, well-worn and graying. Hers had a faded pink heart on one pocket. It added twenty pounds to her slender frame. Maybe it was time to throw mine away.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a ti
mid voice. Her wide eyes were a surprisingly lovely shade of whisky-gold, rimmed by naturally dark lashes. It struck me that she must have been quite pretty five or so years ago.
“Is your husband in?” Colonel Frampton asked in a booming voice, causing Monica to flinch. I suspected he was hard of hearing. He always seemed to talk so loud.
“No. I’m sorry. He isn’t.” She fiddled with the collar of her robe, her fingers nervously twitching the fabric.
“Dear lady, I must speak with your husband immediately. Have you any idea where he is?” Frampton asked.
“He didn’t say. He just...stormed out. We had a little argument.” Her cheeks flushed and she cast her gaze to the floor.
“About what?” Lucas asked gently.
“I think he’s having an affair,” she admitted in a tear-choked voice. “He’s been behaving oddly lately. I finally had enough and asked him. He got angry with me, said I was an idiot, and stormed out.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said soothingly. “That’s awful. But do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
She shrugged. “Bar, probably. Or the pub in the village. He does like his drink.”
“Monica, did you ever meet your brother-in-law, Robbie?” I asked.
She shook her head. “James and I only met eight years ago.”
We thanked her and headed downstairs to the bar. At the foot of the stairs everyone else scattered, pretending they hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time. Jez—who had returned from wherever she’d wandered off—gave me a thumbs up. Marilyn gave me a knowing look. Only Lavender seemed completely bored by the whole thing.
Sure enough, James was perched on a bar stool. He’d helped himself to a bottle of scotch and was doing it justice. He was definitely tipsy already.
“We need to have a word with you, young man,” the colonel boomed.
Carsley didn’t even look up. He tossed back a finger of scotch and poured himself another.
“You killed Blodgett, didn’t you?” I blurted.
He flinched. “Don’t know where you got that idea.”
“When I was in the library during your argument with Blodgett shortly before nine o’clock, the letter opener was on the desk. However, when Professor Huxton-Barrington arrived at twenty minutes past nine, it was gone. The next time anyone saw it was when I found it lodged in Blodgett’s back.” I eyed him closely, waiting for his reaction.
“So?” But he didn’t look at me.
“So, you’re the only one who could have taken it,” I said. “Here’s what I think. You never believed Robbie ran off with the stolen goods from St. Oswins, did you?”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “Robbie was a good person. The best. He would never do that. Sure, he got into some trouble as a kid, but he grew out of that.”
“If Robbie didn’t steal anything, he’d have no reason to run,” I reasoned. “And if he didn’t run, then he must still be in Chipping Poggs. You suspected all along he was dead. Didn’t you?”
“I know it,” he slurred. “Knew it from the very first.”
“And when they arrested Blodgett nine years ago, you knew he was the one who killed Robbie. Maybe you visited him in prison. Maybe he wouldn’t see you. Maybe you just tried to get on with your life. But then you got the news Blodgett had been let out early on good behavior.” I was on a roll. The colonel appeared baffled. Lucas just watched in amusement.
James snorted. “As if. That bastard should have been locked away for good.”
“Except he wasn’t. He was free and your brother was lying dead somewhere only Blodgett knew about. So you tracked him down. How did you discover he was here?”
James laughed. “Idiot posted it on social media.”
That was about the dumbest criminal move I’d ever heard of. “You decided to come down here. Confront Blodgett. Maybe even get him to admit to killing Robbie and telling you where the body was buried. But Blodgett was too smart. He had no intention of going to prison for murder. And besides, he was kind of a jerk, so he probably didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.”
“Kind of a jerk?” James scoffed. “The man was a world class wanker.”
“Ladies present,” barked the colonel.
I’d heard worse. I waved him off and continued. “You confronted Blodgett in the study. The two of you argued and he left. You saw the letter opener and decided if you couldn’t have justice, you could have revenge. So, you stabbed him in the back. Job done.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he snapped.
“Then what was it like?” I asked.
“I was just...so angry. It was like a red haze came over me. I didn’t know what I was doing until it was all over.”
I wasn’t sure I bought that. On the one hand it was believable. If I knew someone had offed my sister and then taunted me about it, I’d probably do something stupid, too. But stabbing someone in the back hours after an argument? “He deserved it. Don’t tell me he didn’t.” James was sputtering in anger now.
“I won’t,” I agreed. “But it’s still wrong. You should have let the police handle it.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I had no idea Robbie’s body was going to turn up, did I? I figured no one would ever know what happened unless I did something.”
“James Carsley, you’re under citizen’s arrest for murder.” The colonel stood up straight and tall like he was addressing his troops. “The police will be here in the morning. I shall turn you over to them along with all evidence gleaned from this investigation.”
“Fine,” James said. He didn’t look up, just poured another scotch. “I know the truth. That’s all that matters.”
“We’ll need to lock him up,” Lucas pointed out. “We can’t let him roam around freely like nothing happened.”
“There are some storage rooms in the attic,” I said. “Some of them have only tiny windows. We could put a cot in one of them and lock him in.”
“Good plan,” Lucas agreed.
The colonel was also in agreement. So, Bill and Rupert set up a temporary holding cell in the attic and the colonel locked James Carsley in for the night. Carsley didn’t even protest, though Monica started crying so hard that Lavender Wu ended up giving her a lorazepam.
The rest of the night passed quietly. I was kind of looking forward to turning this whole thing over to the police and getting on with our vacation. Frankly, I’d had enough of death.
Still, something niggled at the back of my brain. Something made me just a little uneasy.
THE NEXT MORNING DAWNED to more torrential rain, which only increased the flooding. Added to that was the news that the police were still unable to get through.
“You’d think they’d send somebody in a boat or something,” I muttered to Lucas. “Not only do we have two dead bodies, but we’ve got a killer locked up, as well.”
“They’ll come when they can. No doubt there are a lot of people in dire straits out there who need their help. We’re fine here for now. The murderer is locked up tight.” Lucas handed me a cup of coffee heavily doctored with milk and sugar. I wrinkled my nose. What I wouldn’t give for proper cream.
I gazed around the room. The professor was sitting at a table near the window sipping a cup of tea and tapping away on a tablet. Martin was up at the sideboard slapping strawberry jam on a buttered crumpet. Otherwise the room was empty.
Lavender Wu appeared in the doorway, posed dramatically, and glared at everyone. She was still wearing the pants from her suit, but had left off the jacket. She strode toward the coffee urn perched on the buffet. She reached it just as Martin turned around, plate in hand, and ran straight into her. His freshly made crumpet went jam-first right into her white blouse. Lavender leapt backward with a cry.
“You idiot! You’ve ruined my blouse. Do you have any idea how much this cost?”
While Martin babbled apologies and offered to have her blouse cleaned, I sat staring at the large, red stain across her chest. The niggle in my brain from the nigh
t before turned into a full alarm bell clanging away wildly.
Lavender caught me staring and whipped around with a glare that would have made the queen herself quail. “What are you staring at?”
I gave her a slow smile that, if she’d have known me, would have made her just a little afraid. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Then I grabbed Lucas by the arm and hissed, “Follow me.”
He followed me dutifully out into the hall, leaving his half eaten breakfast on the table. “This better be good,” he muttered. “I didn’t eat my bacon yet.”
“Forget your bacon. This is better. Where’s that fridge where you stuck Blodgett’s body?”
“Why?”
I tapped my foot impatiently.
He sighed. “Fine. This way.”
He led the way into the kitchen where Bill was frying up eggs. “Something wrong with brekkie, mate?” he asked, a frown line marring his smooth forehead.
“It was delicious,” Lucas assured him. “Viola just wanted me to look at something. Then I plan to finish it.” He shot me a stern look.
“Whatever. Show me the body.”
“Don’t think you’re supposed to be in there,” Bill said. “The colonel was quite insistent.”
“It’s important,” I said, swinging the heavy door open. I stepped inside only to be assaulted by a gust of cold air that chilled me straight to my bones. I was going to need a lot more hot coffee after this.
Blodgett’s body was wrapped in a white sheet and lying on the floor of the walk-in refrigerator. I hunched down beside him and lifted the sheet, using the flashlight on my phone to light up the side of Blodgett’s throat. “Bingo.”
“What is it?” Lucas stepped up beside me and stared down at the body. “That’s interesting.”
