Death Witnessed

by Beth Byers

  “Why don’t we bypass joking about the criminal being Georgette and focus on the other names,” Charles said. “What are they hiding?”

  Marian shook her head and Joseph groaned. “She never wrote the things down. In case her journal was discovered. There was a fair amount of musing what your secret was, Georgette.”

  Georgette shivered. Charles took in the sight and rose to get Eunice. “She’s got a chill, Eunice. Perhaps some tea?”

  Eunice had been sitting in a rocking chair in the kitchen, but she stood and started a tea tray while Charles returned to the parlor only to hear, “I feel bad for Ruth. I would like to help her somehow.”

  “Of course you do,” Marian said. “We’ll figure it out together.”

  Together was the plan. Charles and Joseph just needed these women to let them join the club. Or, Charles thought, the family.

  16

  GEORGETTE DOROTHY MARSH

  Georgette woke the next morning with a gasp and a certainty that her tea had been poisoned. Her back and legs were cramping, and it took her far too long to realize she’d just slept wrapped around her three dogs and pushed to the side. She slowly sat up and stretched her hands towards her feet. Her back ached with a sharp pain while she did, but she waited until her muscles relaxed and the pain started to fade.

  “Bea,” Georgette told the dog who was licking her cheek, “I blame you.”

  Bea huffed into Georgette’s face.

  She decided to make her way to her bath and take a long soak with some salts. Her head was hurting too, and Georgette hoped the reason was because she’d slept poorly and not because she was getting ill.

  Georgette started the bath water, turning the hot water on full blast. She dumped in the salts and then added lavender oil. With the bath near full, Georgette slipped into the water. She’d heard Joseph say he was going to try to track who bought the chocolates and when. If they could identify when the box had been purchased, perhaps they’d be able to identify who had been where at the time. Georgette wanted to know that Ruth would be safe.

  Perhaps Georgette wasn’t directly responsible for what had happened to Laurieann Schmitz or responsible at all, but she still wanted to know that she’d helped catch her killer. She soaked until the remnants of her dreams had faded and the feeling that she was dying was gone.

  Georgette left the bath and dressed in a comfortable wool skirt and jumper with her coziest stockings. She snuggled into her jumper as she went downstairs and found Eunice in the kitchen. The dogs were watching Eunice’s every move as she fried bacon and eggs, and Georgette’s stomach rolled at the sight of those eggs.

  “Hello, darling,” Georgette said, pressing her hand to her stomach.

  “Miss Georgie,” Eunice said as she glanced at her. “You need to add fixing your bed to the list of things to do. I heard you tossing all night long.”

  “It does squeak, doesn’t it?” Georgette took a piece of toast and poured herself a cup of tea before sitting down in the kitchen with Eunice.

  “Perhaps I’ll just sell it and then buy a new one when we move.”

  “When?” Eunice asked, surprised, turning from the stove.

  “Would you be terribly upset? When I was sitting with Ruth I was just thinking about Laurieann and how she came to Bard’s Crook and created for herself a new life. I could do that. We could do it.”

  “Better than she did, I hope,” Eunice said dryly. “I’m prepared to leave Bard’s Crook. Miss Georgie, I would like to see you appreciated for your many good qualities. That will never happen here, I fear. Even if you were to break out of how they view you, the moment they realize you wrote those books, you’ll be despised.”

  Georgette tucked her chin onto her palm and stirred her tea. It was the lavender Earl Grey and she adored it. With too much cream and too much sugar, it was a bit like a flowery dessert. She ignored the toast for a shortbread biscuit, dipping it in her tea and popping it into her mouth.

  “After all this is over,” Georgette said, “I think we should visit a few villages and see if we can find one we like.”

  Eunice paused, glancing at Georgette, but whatever thought had struck her was not revealed. Georgette finished her tea, thinking she needed to escape the house before Charles tracked her down. He was acting a bit too protective lately, and Georgette intended to do some interfering.

  She kissed Eunice on the cheek and left the dogs to their loud objections. She hurried down the back path through the wood to avoid a possible run-in with Charles. When she exited the wood near Mrs. Yancey’s teashop, she went around the back of the shop and knocked on the door.

  Mrs. Yancey herself opened it. They stared at each other for a moment before she spoke. “I suppose I should be grateful you came to the back.”

  Georgette stepped away as Mrs. Yancey came out and closed the door behind her. In silent agreement, they returned to the front of the building to walk down the lane.

  “You’re being blackmailed,” Georgette said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Yancey replied.

  “Miss Schmitz, the foolish woman, was not the blackmailer.”

  Mrs. Yancey jerked her gaze from the ground to Georgette’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Georgette replied, “that another person is the blackmailer, and the person who will ultimately be responsible for Miss Schmitz’s death is someone who was being blackmailed.”

  Mrs. Yancey gasped, holding her chest.

  Georgette took a deep breath. “Is your secret worth killing for?”

  “Why would I tell you, Georgette Marsh? I watched you on occasion when you were a baby. You have no right to my secrets.”

  Georgette paused as she searched for an answer. “We are, all of us, lonely women—Miss Schmitz. You’re a widow. I’m an old-maid. We are all struggling. If we don’t stand up for each other and protect one another, who will?”

  Mrs. Yancey shook her head, mouth pressed tightly together.

  “Come Mrs. Yancey, I have no interest in your secrets.”

  “She wasn’t poisoned in my shop. My girls wouldn’t have done it, and I certainly didn’t.” She stiffened, staring Georgette down. “My secret is mine. I won’t reveal it.”

  Georgette realized she’d get nowhere if Mrs. Yancey continued on as she was. “Your son is in jail, isn’t he?” Georgette said. “For stealing from Mr. Thornton, who gave you the money to start your teashop when he realized your son also stole your money.”

  Mrs. Yancey’s lip trembled and she glanced to the side. “My girls—”

  Georgette reached out and squeezed Mrs. Yancey’s hand. “It’s hard, I imagine, to be a mother and feel the need to protect your child at all costs. Not at that cost, though, I don’t think.”

  Mrs. Yancey shook her head. “I might have wanted to strangle Miss Schmitz, but I couldn’t risk it. My youngest is only nine, Georgette. No one will care for them if I don’t. I would have just tried to soldier through than kill her and risk no one taking care of my girls.”

  “I doubt that anyone will even seriously consider you. Did you leave your teashop at all yesterday?”

  Mrs. Yancey shook her head.

  “You have a girl who comes in the morning, don’t you?”

  “Heather Jones. She was with me in the kitchens.”

  “You’ll need her to just tell Detective Aaron the course of your day. Be very precise and answer his questions honestly. Don’t try to sidestep, Mrs. Yancey.”

  “Mrs. Hanover was being harassed by Miss Schmitz as well. I asked her if she was being blackmailed, and I would swear on my grave that she wasn’t, Georgette. Her secret isn’t something that you kill over. I can’t tell you what it is, but I promise it isn’t anything more than embarrassing.”

  Georgette nodded. “I happen to agree with you. I think I can guess what she’s been hiding as well.”

  Mrs. Yancey stopped, turning Georgette to face her. “How did you know?”

  “I suppose I just thought about it,” George
tte said. “You went from being rather easy off compared to the rest of us to opening a teashop. It’s clear that you’re brilliant at it and yet don’t love it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “And, of course, I’ve met your son and knew that Mr. Thornton had no interest in owning and helping with a teashop, but he paid so much attention to yours. I just—put the pieces together, I suppose.”

  Mrs. Yancey shook her head and then took Georgette’s hand. “How long have you known?”

  “Since the beginning.”

  “You’ve never said a word.”

  “I would never.”

  Mrs. Yancey sniffed and then her bottom lip trembled. “I—”

  Georgette saw the apology in Mrs. Yancey’s gaze, but Georgette waved it away. She wasn’t going to add to Mrs. Yancey’s burdens with apologies for things that Mrs. Yancey couldn’t have helped.

  Instead, Georgette kissed the woman’s cheek and left her to hurry to Mrs. Hanover’s. When, Mrs. Hanover opened the door she said without greeting, “Miss Schmitz told you, didn’t she? I knew she wouldn’t keep it quiet. After she had that fake fit the other day, I knew it was coming. I’ve been hiding out and here you are.”

  “No one knows,” Georgette said, taking Mrs. Hanover’s hand. “Well, I know. But no one else knows.”

  “What do you mean, you know?”

  “Mrs. Hanover,” Georgette said gently. “I don’t think anyone would care that you and Mr. Templeton are seeing each other. I know he’s younger than you, but you are a beautiful woman.”

  Mrs. Hanover’s face blushed brilliantly. “We’re not! How did you know? Don’t tell!”

  “I saw you walking with him. He looks at you as though the moon is shining from your eyes. Just marry the man, Mrs. Hanover.”

  “But, he’s ten years younger than I am and rather well off for our times.”

  “Who cares when he loves you like he does? Don’t torture him, Mrs. Hanover. It has been a very long time since you lost your husband. Surely you don’t want to be lonely for the rest of your life when a man like Mr. Templeton would make it his personal mission to love and adore you?”

  Mrs. Hanover’s gaze widened. She reached out to take Georgette’s hands. “Do you really think so?”

  “I think anyone who does more than lightly tease you about the difference in your ages isn’t your friend anyway. Prepare a response for those who would tease you and those who won’t let it go. They’re the ones you snub from now on.”

  Mrs. Hanover’s eyes lifted. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “If you love him, love him. If you don’t, set him free. The man wants to be loved in return, I think.”

  17

  GEORGETTE DOROTHY MARSH

  Georgette left Mrs. Hanover, thinking of the remaining names on her list. Miss Hallowton, whose secret Georgette didn’t know. Mrs. Baker, who Georgette would just as soon avoid, and Jasper Thornton. She didn’t think she had much of a shot with Jasper either. Georgette would have to leave the last two to Joseph Aaron, but Miss Hallowton she could handle.

  Georgette walked through the village, stopping at the library. When she entered the building, she saw Miss Hallowton, then she met Charles’s gaze. His mouth quirked at her and she wasn’t able to hold back her mischievous grin.

  “If you’re here about the writing group,” Mrs. Hallowton told her primly, “it is delayed until Miss Schmitz passes and an appropriate amount of time has elapsed. If you’re here about that bedamned book, The Further Adventures of Harper’s Bend, I regret to inform you that the waiting list remains full.”

  Charles chuckled, and Miss Hallowton frowned at him. “They might have more copies in your big city libraries, Mr. Aaron, but I can’t justify spending the full budget on a book that no one will wish to read once the fervour has passed.”

  “Oh, I think they’ll want it long after that.” Charles’s grin was too wide, but Georgette wasn’t foolish enough to send him the look he deserved.

  Instead she took a seat next to Miss Hallowton. “I need your advice on a few things.”

  “Is it regarding books?” Miss Hallowton demanded.

  “Well, I was hoping for a book about villages around London. Places like Bard’s Crook but not Bard’s Crook.”

  Miss Hallowton sniffed and then rose, walking to a shelf where she pulled out two books and returned with them. “And what else?”

  Georgette requested to borrow them and also to pick up her mail, and Miss Hallowton stepped away from counter.

  “Go away!” Georgette hissed to Charles.

  “But I wish to witness this,” he protested.

  “She won’t talk with you around. The only reason she hasn’t sent you on your way is that she’d rather have you here than muddying up her house.”

  Charles grinned, rising and leaning down to Georgette. “You aren’t getting away from me again.”

  Georgette lifted her brows at him as he left the library. She felt as though he’d challenged her.

  Miss Hallowton returned and placed a parcel in front of Georgette. “You’ve been buying a lot of tea.”

  “My distant uncle, who has been helping me lately, has been quite kind when he heard how fond I am of tea.”

  “That must be nice,” Miss Hallowton said in a tone that spoke the opposite.

  “It is indeed,” Georgette replied happily. She took the parcel and only just prevented herself from sniffing at the leaves through the wrapping. “Miss Hallowton,” Georgette said, glancing about and seeing Charles sitting on a bench across the lane. “Miss Schmitz confided some things to me as I helped her.”

  “I imagine she had quite a burdened conscience,” Miss Hallowton snapped. “I understand she is not expected to survive. I suppose it is not true that only the good die too young. Though, Miss Schmitz is, of course, a bit long in the tooth.”

  “She is not expected to live.” Georgette leaned back and waited, hoping that Miss Hallowton would be compelled to fill the silence. It was a battle of wills, with Miss Hallowton fixing her hard-eyed stare to intimidate Georgette into leaving while Georgette refused to meet Miss Hallowton’s gaze, instead drawing on the long history of being nearly always silent to wait for the woman to speak. Georgette won.

  “If this is about the secret that I have, it was all a misunderstanding.”

  “Was it?” Georgette said quietly, still refusing to meet Miss Hallowton’s gaze and letting the silence become weighty again.

  “There is nothing wrong with doing research about traveling. That doesn’t mean that I am not fully reliable in my work or expect to take more than my allotted days.”

  Georgette bit down on the inside of her mouth to prevent a reply.

  “My position is not available. I am a librarian. It is our business to know a little about a variety of things. There was no need for Miss Schmitz to try to take my position.”

  “Of course there wasn’t,” Georgette replied. “I understand that some people Miss Schmitz was bothering were being blackmailed.”

  Miss Hallowton’s jaw snapped shut and then she muttered, “As if I could afford to pay blackmail or would. Why would I? To hide that I was doing my job?”

  “Of course not,” Georgette said. “It was only idle chatter, Miss Hallowton. I’m sure that Bard’s Crook will never have a more responsible librarian than you. We are lucky to have such a…conscientious woman in this position.”

  Miss Hallowton sniffed sharply. “Too true.”

  Georgette couldn’t help the next bit that slid out. “I am surprised really that Mr. Hadley hasn’t been able to convince you to turn your attention from this library to him. I have never seen a man more in love than he is with you.”

  “Poppycock,” Miss Hallowton said, with burning cheeks.

  “Oh,” Georgette replied. “I am certain it is true. But perhaps, if you do not feel the same, it is easier to not see it?” She rose then, leaving the idea in Miss Hallowton’s head.

  Georgette was, of course, utterly cert
ain that Miss Hallowton had no idea of Mr. Hadley’s affections. She thought, however, that Miss Hallowton might be inclined to recognize Mr. Hadley’s brilliance to see all that was lovable about the librarian. Georgette grinned at herself in using the same thought process as the great Jane Austen and hoped to see an equally happy ending for Miss Hallowton and Mr. Hadley.

  Georgette left out the side door of the library, much to Miss Hallowton’s displeasure, but she didn’t let it bother her. There was one more errand that occurred to her on which she could not allow Charles to accompany her. She supposed she would have to apologize rather fiercely to him for it, but it must be done.

  If, she thought, she were writing what was happening as a story—then, of course, the less interesting Miss Hallowton, Mrs. Yancey, and Mrs. Hanover must be overlooked for the characters who were truly villainous. Jasper Thornton and Virginia Baker certainly seemed to qualify for those roles. Of the two, Georgette preferred that Virginia Baker was the killer. Was it wrong to wish the woman ill because Georgette simply didn’t like her?

  She hurried down the street, thinking that Mrs. Baker was not going to tell Georgette a thing. Perhaps if Georgette were to try the same thing as she’d tried with Miss Hallowton and pretend that all had already been revealed?

  It was worth an attempt. She turned onto the lane where Mrs. Baker lived and found Joseph Aaron leaving the garden.

  “It isn’t her,” he said as Georgette approached.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You won’t reveal what I am about to tell you?”

  Georgette shook her head. “Of course I won’t.”

  “We were able to confirm that Mrs. Baker neither left her house in time to deliver the poisoned chocolates nor could she have bought them. She has rather strained finances. Made worse, mind you, by blackmail. I fear I left her weeping. We were able to track the supplier of the chocolates, and they confirmed that a box was purchased recently. However, they know Mrs. Baker. She buys—bought—from them regularly. They cut her off after she stopped paying the bill.”