Consecrated Crime: A Rev Jessamy Ward Mystery (Isle Of Wesberrey Book 5)

by Penelope Cress

  “Perhaps this has nothing to do with her birth mother.” Dave suggested. “There’s another reason.”

  “And I’m sure the diary holds the key.”

  The rest of the group was getting ready to leave. Zuzu returned to claim her man. “Seriously, a girl could get jealous,” she joked. “Jess, if I can drag you away, we have a lot of work to do to get everything ready for tomorrow. You were moaning earlier about being out of the loop. Well, now’s your chance. Rosie has to get back to the shop. Seems she is expecting a delivery of steamy romances for the top shelf and doesn’t want Luke to open the boxes. I told her to put a couple by for me. Bedtime reading for when lover boy here is on duty.” She threw a seductive wink towards the inspector that he was clearly excited to cash in later.

  “Bedtime reading?” That’s it! “Rosie, I don’t suppose you have a copy of How To Win Friends and Influence People?” I shouted across the room.

  Dave snapped back from whatever fantasy Zuzu had inspired this time. “The book by her bed!”

  “And the markings that were in it. My money’s on that being the key to the code.”

  What would Poirot do?

  Ellen’s copy of the book was filed as evidence back at the Stourchester police headquarters. Dave put in a call for it and the diary to be dispatched as soon as possible.

  “Again, Jess, thank you for your help. But I can take it from here.”

  “We could pop to the shop and see if Rosie has a copy?” I was so close to unravelling it all. I wanted desperately to be there at the end. My poker face must have slipped - a little.

  “Don’t pull that look with me, Jess. Even if your sister has a copy gathering dust somewhere, it’s not Ellen’s copy. Come on, this was fun, but enough is enough. Leave it to the professionals, namely me, okay? Now, off you go.” Grrr, why don’t you just pat me on the head and say I’m a good girl? Woof, woof!

  I grabbed a box of fairy lights. Kicking my heels, I followed the other women through the main bar. Inside the pub, it was easy to forget that the sun blazed outside. The cobbled square quivered from the heat. I stopped to survey the scene. Lots of people, young and old, enjoying the gift of being alive on this beautiful day. A gift someone had denied my friend’s only daughter. Promise or no promise. I can’t step away now.

  I wandered away from the group and headed to Dungeons and Vegans.

  ✽✽✽

  I arrived at the bookshop just as Rosie was signing for her steamy delivery.

  “Jess? You’re supposed to be with the others?”

  I placed the fairy lights on one of the cafe tables. “I know, But I can’t. Not until I try one last thing. Please, little Sis, do you have a copy of that book stashed in the back somewhere?”

  Rosie agreed to look if I helped her with the boxes now piled on the pavement outside her store. They were heavy, but my reward was a dusty volume of How To Win Friends and Influence People. It was an early edition, with a black and white dust cover featuring a picture of Dale Carnegie himself on the jacket. And was nothing like the one Ellen owned.

  “Do you have any other copies? A paperback maybe?”

  “No, Jess, I looked. I don’t get why it’s important.”

  “Because we need to crack the code!” I spluttered, my frustration rising. I wanted to catch Ellen’s killer. I owed it to my friend. Then I would step away.

  “Well, maybe there’s more than one way to skin a cat?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you could go all Hercule Poirot on the suspects and see which one of them breaks?”

  “Or the answer might come to me as I talk!”

  “Yes, well, that too, I suppose.”

  “Rosie, you’re a genius.” I grabbed the box of fairy lights. “Oh, and by the way, the tables look great!”

  ✽✽✽

  I hailed one of Wesberrey’s finest horse-drawn hackney carriages “To Bridewell Manor, please!” He dropped me off at the gate. The gravel under my feet, as I slogged up to the main house, felt like quicksand in the heat. I wasn’t sure my heart would make it. Panting for breath, I rang the doorbell.

  “Ralph, is Lady Arabella in?” I gasped.

  “Yes, Reverend. She is holding court with all her guests in the lounge. Can I get you anything? A glass of water, perhaps? Or a fan?”

  “The heart of a twenty-two-year-old?”

  “Sorry, we’re all out of them.” He held out his hands to relieve me of the fairy lights.

  “Thank you. Shall I just go through?”

  “Unless you want me to announce you?”

  “Ooh, yes, that would be fun. Quick question. Where are the police? I thought everyone was still on semi-house arrest?”

  “Two officers are hanging out with us in the pantry. It’s nice to have the company.”

  “Great.” I winked, “We might need them later.”

  Ralph placed the box on a side table and strode towards the sitting room doors. “Reverend Ward to see you, your ladyship.”

  I bowed my gratitude and, head held high, I walked towards the surprised looks of the assembled party.

  Arabella greeted me with outstretched arms. “Jess, how wonderful. I hope you haven’t come back for that swim. We’re having the pool drained right now.”

  “No, maybe another time. I actually wanted to speak to your guests, if I may?”

  “The floor is all yours, Reverend.”

  The first burst of bravado that carried me through the door was morphing into quiet panic. Act like you know more than you do! I paced the room as I talked, observed people’s reactions, and adjusted my narrative accordingly. My earlier training as an actress would be put fully to the test.

  “Thank you, Lady Somerstone-Wright. I am delighted that you are all here. It will make what I have to say so much easier.” If only I knew what that was...

  Steve Huntsford had been reading the Financial Times in a wingback chair in the corner. “Speak up then, Reverend. Ralph should be on his way soon with afternoon tea.”

  “I promise, I won’t keep you too long.” I took a calming breath. “It’s just. You see. My old school friend, Karen. Well, her daughter was, it turns out, Ellen Findlay. Which in itself is a remarkable coincidence. One way or another, I have been involved in this tragic case since early Monday morning. Or rather, I suppose what remained of Sunday night.”

  Jenny, sat beside Celeste on the sofa, also steadied herself with a deep, measured breath before speaking. “We all know that, Reverend Ward, but what exactly has brought you here today?”

  “Ellen’s killer. You see, I think I know who it is!”

  The gasp from the room was not as dramatic as I expected. In fact, it wasn’t so much a gasp as a gentile sip of air. The fact that I had absolutely no idea who the killer was would not stop me. There were two ways this would go, and I was determined that the final scenario would not leave me with the proverbial egg on my face. Have faith!

  “Let’s start with the facts, as I see them. Ellen Findlay was shot with a flare by someone in this room on Sunday evening during the firework display.” The word ‘flare’ got a response; it was clearly news to some of the group.

  “Then that person, or their associate, took a spare set of keys and sailed the Norma Jean out to the other side of the island in an attempt to get rid of her body. They probably hoped that would gain them some time. However, the current brought poor Ellen ashore before her murderer had a chance to sound the alarm later that morning. The discovery bringing Inspector Lovington on board, and trapping the murderer first on the Norma Jean and then here at Bridewell Manor.”

  Sweetpea, previously slouched across her armchair, straightened up to fiddle with her wig. “The heat today is playing havoc with my hairnet, you know. Sorry, Vicar, you were saying?”

  Jenny’s anxious eyes pleaded with the room. “I raised the alarm. But I didn’t kill Ellen. I didn’t. Maman?” She turned to Celeste. “You must believe me.”

  “Ah, yes, I assume everyone
here knows that Jenny is Celeste’s daughter?” Thank you, Jenny, you made that revelation very easy!

  “She’s what?” Sweetpea tugged more aggressively at her hair.

  “Oh, yes. Jenny Brown here was born Guenièvre Marron. Such a pretty name. Why did you change it?”

  Celeste reached over to take her daughter’s hand. “I can answer that. Because the orphanage moved her to England. There was the chance of a family here for her, but it fell through. Ma petite fille, je suis tellement désolé. Je n'avais aucune idée. Forgive me.”

  “How could you know?” Jenny cradled her weeping mother. “But, happily, fate brought us back together.”

  “Oui, and it was Ellen who uncovered the truth. How she worked out that this amazing, beautiful child is my Guenièvre? Mon Dieu, I owe her everything.” Celeste fought back the tears. “I would never have hurt her. Never.”

  “I believe you. Ellen was good at discovering people’s secrets. She loved puzzles. And as the HR director, she had access to everyone’s personal files.”

  Pink wig now clenched between two fists on her lap, Sweetpea demanded more information from her boss. “So, you had no idea Jenny was your daughter when you hired her? I find that hard to believe!”

  “C'est un miracle, n'est-ce pas.” Celeste reinforced her grip on Jenny’s hand. “So, we had DNA tests. The results only came through last week. Steve and I are so happy. What could be better? All my girls are like family. Now, one of them actually is. Reverend, as you say, Dieu se déplace de manière mystérieuse. God, he moves in mysterious ways.”

  Sweetpea’s cheeks grew as crimson as her lipstick. “I can’t believe it! Family? So when were you going to tell me, eh? Seems like I was the only one who knew nought about it, you know.”

  “We were going to make an announcement later in the week.” Steve folded his paper purposefully, and placing it under his arm, walked over to join his wife on the settee. “Reverend, impressive. How did you work all this out?”

  “Ellen left behind a diary. The police have it. It’s written in code. Ellen obviously was a very secretive woman, but we have the key and they are working through it as we speak.”

  Jenny looked puzzled. “You have her diary? How? Archie…”

  “Archie, what? Jenny, did you ask Archie to steal her diary?”

  “No, well, not just me. I mean,” Jenny glowered at her hair-netted colleague. “You said it was a bit of fun!” Sweetpea stared angrily back. “That you were going to put it back!”

  Sweetpea! It all made sense now.

  “But you couldn’t put it back because you knew Ellen was dead. Isn’t that right, Sweetpea? You couldn’t take the risk that your DNA or fingerprints would end up in Ellen’s room. You shot Ellen Findlay with the flare during the fireworks on Sunday night, and you convinced poor Archie to take the boat out again. Did he know what you had done?”

  “You have no proof of anything! What would be my motive, eh? I’m not another of Celeste’s bastards, you know!”

  Captain Jack said, if it’s not sex, it’s money. Follow the money!

  “No, but…” Time for a leap of faith. “She found out you were embezzling funds from Aurora, didn’t she?”

  Her face confirmed I was right. The conversation in the toilet during the dinner party flooded back. Ellen was asking too many questions.

  “You told me yourself that she was the crazy bitch from HR, always... what were your exact words? Ah, yes, ‘sneaking around’ and ‘constantly up in everyone’s business’. The diary will prove, won’t it, that you were subcontracting work to freelancers that didn’t exist?”

  As I spoke, everything fell into place. I am on a roll! “Ellen probably ran background checks on all Aurora’s employees. That’s how she found out about you, Jenny. She read your birth certificate and her imagination filled in the blanks. Karen told me how much she loved a puzzle. She really was good at her job. She went over and above what we would normally expect in that role. That’s why you employed her, Celeste. Because she was the best. Her talent for unmasking corporate rogues and business traitors, got her killed.”

  Sweetpea readjusted her wig and smoothed down her dress. “You have nothing. No murder weapon. No evidence. So what if she was mouthing off sayingI was skimming a bit off the top? Doesn’t mean I silenced her permanently, you know. As you said, there’s no DNA evidence. I never went into her room.”

  “No, you were very clever. You trusted that job to Archie. He stole the diary and then later that evening you met up with Ellen and bang! The fireworks covered the shot. But where was Archie?”

  I turned to Jenny. She hung her head. “He was with me.”

  “And Celeste? Where were you during the fireworks?”

  “Steve and I were in bed. We told the Inspector this already.”

  Steve drew his wife and stepdaughter close. “Yes, the fireworks would have made Celeste’s headache worse. We’d knocked back a few whiskeys and were dead to the world by nine. Sorry.”

  “So, Sweetpea, no witnesses. You orchestrated everything brilliantly. You had been to the Regatta before. You knew Steve and Celeste would retire early. And, of course, this was her first time on the yacht. Ellen would want to watch the fireworks. Keeping Archie and Jenny busy gave you the perfect opportunity to get her on deck alone. You just needed to dispose of her body before everyone woke. How did you get Archie to sail back out? Did you offer him a share? Maybe his own boat? He couldn’t be the entertainment forever.”

  “So you are saying I killed him as well? Anyone else? I didn’t, you know.”

  “No, I believe you. People heard you messing around at the pool earlier that night. You were there with Jenny. Just three young people having fun. I think you expected Archie to bring the diary with him that night to the pool. But he’d realised by then how important it was. Ingenious bringing Jenny in on this. You got her to check on Ellen in the morning as well, didn’t you?”

  Jenny went to speak, but I raised my hand. “I know you were there. You made the bed. You couldn’t help but tidy up, could you?”

  Jenny sunk back into her mother’s embrace. I returned to Sweetpea. “Then you met up again with Archie later to renegotiate your deal. But he wanted more money, or something else you’d promised and you, you betrayed him. Didn’t you? Rather than retaliate, he turned to walk away and fell. Hitting his head.” Sweetpea puffed herself up and slow clapped me as I talked, but I had more to say. “And the worse bit is, that you could have saved him. He drowned because you let him die.”

  “You really have quite the imagination there, Vicar!” Sweetpea remained peacock proud in her seat.

  “But it’s true. You asked Archie to steal the diary. You made a point of getting him to sleep with Ellen that night, when it was your turn. Then you encouraged me to keep him occupied later. You said how much fun it would be to… you know, with the fireworks going off... You made me a part of it.” Jenny shuddered. “I made her bed. And she was dead!” Jenny’s breathing grew faster and more laboured with every word. “And Archie! When you told me to close my eyes and run into the pool. You knew he was in there!”

  Arabella rang the bell to summon Ralph. “I think we have heard more than enough. Tea can wait. It’s time to call in the police.”

  Marry when June roses grow

  Saturday morning brought a flurry of activity to the main church and the church hall. After the drama of Friday afternoon, it was all hands on deck to prepare the hall for the wedding reception. Inspector Lovington had arrested Sweetpea Smythe and charged her with the murder of Ellen Findlay and the manslaughter of Archie Baldwin. The boffins back at the lab at Stourchester police station eventually deciphered the Carnegie Code later that evening. Ellen’s diary contained details of offshore bank accounts and falsified records under Sweetpea’s watch going back over two years. She had successfully embezzled over three-quarters of a million pounds.

  “Imagine not knowing you were short by a million quid?” Rosie handed me some green foliage to w
ind around a glass lantern on the table setting I was working on. “But then, that wouldn’t buy you much these days. A small flat in London, perhaps.”

  “I think that’s why Celeste recruited her. Though you could get a castle in Scotland with that money.” I wrapped the stem around the neck of an empty jar destined to be a candle holder.

  “True. I know which I would prefer.” Rosie wiped some loose orange blossom buds from the tablecloth and stood back to admire all our hard work. “I think it looks beautiful, Jess. I meant to ask, what is Karen planning to do today? I am sure Barbara would be fine with her coming to the reception. There’s plenty of food and I can squeeze in an extra chair.”

  “Way ahead of you, little Sis, but she is heading over to the funeral home to talk to Leo about arrangements. I think she wants some time alone.”

  We gathered up the rest of the decorations. “I’ll whizz over after the ceremony to light the candles. The chef needs access to the kitchen from about one. So, if you leave me with the keys I can let them in.”

  “My pleasure. Rosie. Just a thought, what if they don’t like French food? Unchartered territory all this posh nosh.”

  “I’ve got it covered. They are making some English grub as well.”

  “You have thought of everything.”

  “Naturally. Just one more thing. Can you help me with the seating plan?”

  I nodded, and we walked together to the store room. “That is so pretty. Where am I sitting?”

  “On the top table, Barbara insisted.” Gratitude and pride sought release through the water droplets that pricked the corners of my eyes. This was not a day for non-waterproof mascara.

  I scanned the board. “And there you are. And Luke, Tilly. Oh, and Buck is next to you. Is he your ‘plus one’?”

  “Maybe,” she smiled.

  ✽✽✽

  Clouds threatened, distant thunder roared, but nothing could darken the radiant vision in white that walked down the centre aisle of St. Bridget’s as the church bells tolled three o’clock.