Two Birds with One Stone (A Marsden-Lacey Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Sigrid Vansandt

  The car park was a ten-minute walk and the summer sun hovered along the horizon. Looking around to make sure no one noticed her muttering to herself, she continued musing on what Piers and Louis had said.

  From the sound of it, both definitely disliked Sir Carstons. The firm she was working for was involved in a suit involving The Grange’s board and Sir Carstons. Could that be the suit Piers was referring to? If Sir Carstons was out of the picture, maybe the suit was void. From reading the other statements in the brief, she knew Sir Carstons had made life difficult for The Grange’s board and there were some sticky financial problems the museum had inherited because of Sir Carstons' poor fiscal management.

  Then there was Devry’s comment about Carstons being a bully. Louis Devry, from first appearances, seemed the reserved gentleman-type, but he obviously hated Carstons with a passion, too. The part about women and children being Carstons’ favorite prey was an interesting thing to say.

  After she collected her shoes and was making her way back to the house, Martha saw one of Marsden-Lacey’s police vehicles coming along the drive. DCI Johns pulled up and got out at the front gate. Sergeant Cross followed him and Mrs. Thyme let them into the house.

  Martha turned up her speed and slipped through the back gate. She called Helen on her cell phone.

  “Hello,” a sleepy Helen answered.

  “Helen, get downstairs. Johns is here and he’s in the house. I think something’s up. Meet me at the foot of the staircase. Pronto.”

  “You bet. I’ll be there.”

  Martha hustled into the hall and there was Chief Johns and his sergeant waiting to be shown into Piers’ study which was really Healy’s library. She scanned the staircase and saw Helen making her way down. Martha continued up the hall and walked by the door to Piers’ study again secreting herself into the alcove behind the door. Helen slipped over and squeezed in beside her.

  Martha peeked between the door and the jam into the study. What she saw almost made her gasp out loud. Piers had walked over to one of the bookshelves and pulled on a piece of the framing. A section of the book shelving swung free and revealed a hidden passage. The entire house must have secret passages, Martha thought. Excited by this, she filed the information away to tell Helen later.

  Mrs. Thyme walked right past Helen and Martha, never seeing them. She announced the chief and his sergeant to Piers. Johns walked into the room with Sergeant Cross in tow and flashed his badge.

  “Mr. Cousins, I need to know your whereabouts yesterday,” he said, getting right to the point of his visit.

  “I was here most of the day getting things settled for the tournament and fundraiser. Mrs. Thyme might have some input. I was at some point yesterday everywhere on the estate. So many details to finish up,” Cousins said.

  “Would you know of anyone who might have been angry with Sir Carstons?” Johns asked.

  “I thought you were treating this as an attempted burglary or something?”

  “Well, Sir, are you aware of anything being stolen? If not and since we have a dead man, we are treating it as the ‘something’ and in this case, that’s definitely murder,” Johns said with a hint of challenge in his voice.

  Piers studied the Chief briefly then replied with sincerity, “Well, to be honest Chief Inspector, you won’t find too many people who didn’t have a problem with Sir Carstons.”

  Louis Devry who had been standing quietly beside Cousins and as if on cue, stepped forward and offered his hand. “Chief Inspector, Louis Devry. I’m the curator at The Grange. I think you will probably want to talk with me about what happened yesterday.”

  Johns raised his eyebrows. “The missing curator. I’ll tell you what, gentlemen, let’s take both your statements. I promise to be quick. I wouldn’t want to hold up your dinner guests.”

  Piers motioned for the men to sit down. As Mrs. Thyme left the room, she closed the door, but not before Helen and Martha slipped out of their hiding place and made their way to the main hall.

  “What do you think of that?” Helen whispered. “I think it’s odd they’re questioning Piers, don’t you?”

  “Um, maybe not. I overheard him talking to Devry earlier and Piers hated Sir Carstons. He had a grudge against him. One thing’s for sure, the statement I’m supposed to get from Louis Devry is necessary in a suit The Grange’s board brought against Sir Carstons. So when you think about it, the problem is no longer a problem, if you get my drift?”

  “Piers, a murderer? A squabble among board members and a disgruntled owner doesn’t seem like a reason to kill someone,” Helen said.

  “Yeah, but, people have killed for less. There might be other motivations we aren’t aware of…yet,” Martha said with a twinge of drama in her voice.

  “What are you getting at?” A nervous Helen whispered.

  “Might be a good idea to keep our eyes and ears open. Maybe there’s a crazy person running around and who knows who’s next.” Martha said a little too enthusiastically.

  “I think the only crazy person running around here is you and I’m not getting involved. Let the police handle it. They’re the professionals.”

  Martha made a “pphht” sound.

  “Piers isn’t a killer,” Helen said. “He’s such a perfect gentleman.”

  “Perfect is right. He’s exactly that,” Martha said. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me if he’s the killer. I promise not to say I told you so.”

  “How generous of you.” Helen sniffed.

  They sat in wingback chairs covered with intricate, crewel-stitched fabric until DCI Johns and the others emerged from Cousins’ office.

  “I’ll need both of you to stay local until I say otherwise,” Johns was saying. “We’re treating this as a murder investigation now. I’ve got forensics looking at the murder weapon and we’ll be able to go through the security videos once Mr. Cousins delivers them to us Monday. Thank you, gentlemen, and I’ll talk with you soon.”

  Martha noticed both Cousins and Devry looked anxious and tired. Louis Devry’s face showed more strain than earlier. He excused himself and headed to his room upstairs. Piers came over to Helen and Martha and sat down.

  He wove a piece of card stock between his fingers.

  “Is everything alright, Piers?” Helen noticed his nervous behavior begin to slow down.

  He looked at the card in his hand and slumped. “They’ve found some incriminating evidence against me.” He took a deep breath and let it out fast. “The weapon used to kill Carstons was one of the door stops we keep at the reception area. It had been chucked over the wall of the front garden. A piece of one of my business cards was stuck to it.” Cousins winced then continued. "Sir Carstons’ blood was the glue holding it in place. It’s grizzly.”

  Then he added, “While we were in giving our statements, I remembered to tell Chief Johns that last week we had installed a few new security cameras at The Grange. I’m hoping they may have caught something. It may save my neck anyway. I seem to be their prime suspect.”

  “You and Helen,” Martha teased.

  Piers looked back and forth between the two women.

  Helen grimaced. “Martha and I were also asked not to change our location for a while. Chief Inspector Johns can be persuasive.”

  The main door opened and in came one of the tennis pros, Andy Todd. Seeing Piers he called out to him. Piers rose from his chair.

  “Let’s put this aside for the evening,” he said. “I’m sure it will work out. When you’re ready, please come down to the garden. We’ll be dining al fresco tonight. It’ll be a perfect night for it.”

  Cousins excused himself and Helen and Martha returned to their room. Soon, the lights on the tennis lawns went down. The girls were enjoying their pretty room. They took showers, worked on their hair and shared stories about their childhoods in Arkansas. When they heard people laughing and talking along the corridors, they checked the time and made their way down the stairs toward the dinner party.

  A slim cresce
nt moon appeared over the tops of the old oak trees along the river. The balmy, summer night air lightly ruffled Helen and Martha’s hair as they entered the fairy-land garden their host had imagined and prepared for his dinner guests. Strands of tiny white lights and hanging lanterns created a delicate canopy stretching across the entire stone wall enclosure.

  Every round dining table was laid with pure white china dinnerware, silver cutlery, white linens, crystal stemware, centerpieces of fresh flowers, and long, tapered candles flickering inside glass hurricanes. Roses and gardenia plants perfumed the evening air and soon laughing guests were sipping champagne and basking in the beauty of Healy House.

  Everyone, including Helen and Martha, filtering into the area marveled at the enchanted garden. As if on cue, a piano quintet began to play “Some Enchanted Evening.” It appeared to be the beginning of a night to remember.

  Chapter 14

  THE PARTY WAS GOING WONDERFULLY. Dinner was delicious and people were dancing to music by Sinatra, Nat King Cole and Perry Como. Helen and Martha were talking with Andy Todd, the tennis pro. He had recently won his fifth tennis open and, out of friendship with Piers, flew all the way from Australia to play at Healy.

  They met his beautiful wife, Alex, who decided half-way through the evening to remove her shoes and dance barefoot. Beauty has its privileges Martha thought with a smile as she watched the young, handsome couple laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

  “Helen, may I have this dance?” Piers asked as the musicians began to play “Red Sails in the Sunset.”

  With a soft blush, Helen accepted and Martha gave her a “go have fun” wink as the couple moved onto the dance floor.

  Martha decided to find the ladies’ room. The windowed-hallway flanking the garden was softly lit by candles in sconces, and people half in shadow came and went along its length. Lightheaded from all the champagne, Martha came into the main hall and as she passed Piers’ study, she thought she saw a movement. Stopping abruptly, she strained to see if there was someone moving in the room’s darkness. With only candles lighting the hall, it was difficult to tell.

  Martha’s curiosity went on red alert. She peeked around the corner of the door to see a silhouetted form sitting in front of an illuminated computer screen. Could it be a man? From her position she couldn’t tell. The person was frantically typing something into a white box which kept coming up on the screen. Each time it reappeared, they would try again.

  As she watched, Martha leaned on the door and it creaked. The figure spun around and moved away from the desk. Quickly backing out of the doorway, Martha dashed for the stairs.

  She heard people coming. Two women in evening gowns moved languidly down the hall, laughing. They stopped directly in front of the office. Whoever was in there was blocked from leaving. Martha decided not to go up the stairs. Instead, she walked past the women, down the long glass corridor, and back to the garden. Her fuzzy headedness gone, she decided the ladies room would have to wait.

  When Martha returned to the garden, Helen and Piers were sitting at a table laughing cozily together. Martha went over and told them what she had seen. Piers got up and the two women followed him to his office.

  Switching on the light and they discovered the office in a terrible mess.

  “Who would have done this?” Piers asked, turning to Helen and Martha.

  “I couldn't tell,” Martha said. “Can you tell if anything is gone?”

  “What do you think they were looking for?” Helen asked.

  Piers searched through his desk then sat down in front of his computer. “Honestly, I can’t tell much from fiddling with this thing. Nothing of value is gone from my desk.” He swiveled to face them. “I keep everything important in my safe which hasn’t been touched. If our intruder wanted something, it must have been access to my computer and that could be devastating. I don’t want the police out here again tonight but I don’t think I have a choice.”

  “Piers, don’t touch anything. Fingerprints could be on things,” Martha warned.

  At that moment a tall, thin strawberry blonde woman with an extremely clingy, silver-beaded evening gown leaned into the room. Her cleavage was a better accessory than a diamond necklace. In fact if she had been wearing the Hope diamond, no one would have noticed it.

  She gave Piers a cute, pouty look and with her curled index finger she motioned for him to come. “Piers,” she cooed in a deep Louisiana drawl, “I think the last dance is about to start. You know how I love to…dance, darling.”

  Martha turned from the strawberry blonde to look at Piers. Then, like a man whose will was controlled by a power greater than his own, he excused himself politely, saying he had promised Lana the last dance.

  Taking his arm in hers, Lana laid her head gently on his shoulder and they left the room.

  Alone in the room, the girls were quiet for a few seconds until Martha said, “Whoa! I feel like I just witnessed the mating ritual of a Louisiana cougar.”

  Helen turned to Martha and said hotly, “Cougar is right. What’s the deal with so many Americans in England these days? Don’t they have better places to be?”

  Martha laughed. “Now simmer down. We’re Americans. Remember? You were outflanked by a Louisiana woman. Almost anyone would be caught by one of those molasses-dripping accents and those ta-tas. If I was mesmerized, you can damn well bet a man would be.”

  Helen laughed, too. “You know what? You’re a goofball.”

  “Come on, let’s go see what she’s up to out on the dance floor with Piers. You’ve got as good a chance with posh boy as she does.”

  “Thanks. I think,” Helen said.

  “He’s a nice person, Helen. At first I wasn’t sure about him but if he’s our killer, he’s a charming one. Seems almost as nice as my husband, Martin.”

  “Did you suspect your husband of being a killer, too?” Helen asked with a smile.

  “No, but he was a charmer though.”

  “Was? Are you not together anymore?”

  “Not anymore. Martin died five years ago. He had cancer. I don’t want to talk about that.” Martha shook her head. “Instead, let me tell you how we met. Being just out of college, I had come over to England to backpack with a friend over Christmas break. My friend, Holly, and I were sitting in Trafalgar Square one night feeling homesick and wondering why we had ever wanted to come to England for Christmas, when I saw the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was wearing a long grey overcoat, had a tie and a vest, and he was dark-haired. I love dark-haired men.”

  Martha, on a roll, continued. “Unfortunately, Holly had seen him at the same time. She was the better looking of the two of us. I don’t know what got into me, but I decided within ten seconds that I wanted to meet him. I hopped down off the huge, stone lion I was sitting on top of and walked up to him. He looked so surprised. Probably thought I was a prostitute, but I gave him a big smile and asked him in my sweetest voice if he could direct us to the perfect English pub. I told him my friend and I wanted to have dinner but didn’t know where to go.”

  “Brazen hussy.” Helen laughed.

  “It worked, though, because once he smiled, I knew he was the one. It was the best Christmas present I ever received. I know it sounds corny but it happened that way. Something clicked between us and it took cancer to separate us. Well, for the time being anyway.” Martha smiled. “I’m saying if you like Piers, and I think you do, don’t be afraid to throw your hat into the ring.”

  “Thanks, pal.” Helen gave Martha a big hug. “Let’s go check out the competition.”

  Helen and Martha started towards the garden when they heard a loud explosion. They stopped dead in their tracks.

  Women screamed and men were yelling. People came running down the hall with terrified expressions and someone called loudly for a doctor. The girls were unable to move while the tide of frightened people streamed down the long corridor around them.

  Up ahead they saw the lovely Lana hurrying towards them. She
grabbed Martha like she had found a boulder in the stream to cling to. Wild-eyed and with blood splashed across her lovely dress, she held tightly to Martha.

  Helen pulled the two women out of the current of humanity and over along the corridor’s edge. She took Lana by the shoulders and, looking into her eyes, she gently asked her, “What is it, Lana? What’s happened?”

  “He’s been shot,” Lana cried in a strained voice. “Piers has been shot and the bullet grazed my arm. I think he’s dead.”

  Chapter 15

  AFTER GETTING LANA SETTLED ON a sofa beside another woman who said she would keep an eye on her, Martha and Helen rushed back to the garden. Most of the guests had fled the area but for a few people and one man in his early thirties was bent over Piers.

  Martha and Helen pushed their way into the small circle of people surrounding Piers.

  “Are you a doctor?” Helen asked in a fearful but hopeful voice.

  “Yes. I am,” he said.

  “Will he be okay?”

  “He’s been shot in the upper shoulder. We’ve called and the ambulance is on its way. He’s losing a lot of blood.”

  They watched as he continued his ministrations. Martha felt she must do something.

  “Did anyone see who shot him?” She looked around at the guests still in the garden.

  A man stepped forward and, in a German accent, said, “The shot came from over there.” He pointed toward a section of the garden’s rock wall.

  Looking at the wall, cast in shadows, Martha realized there was something unusual about its formation. She crossed over to get a better look.

  Built into the wall was a perfectly round circle which opened upon the extensive lawn beyond. During the day it would be a lovely framed vista for garden visitors to look through but if you were intent on killing someone, it made a perfect place to shoot someone without being seen.