by Fiona Grace
“No!” Emma protested. “That’s not what happened at all!”
“And it just wasn’t working,” Lacey continued, ignoring her pleas. “Despite all your charm, despite all your attempts to convince Hugh his life wasn’t lasting forever, he just wouldn’t back down on the prenup. Then you realized there was one way you could profit from him after all, even if he didn’t make you his wife. You’d seen it before—Hugh buying things from auctions, then the lawyers coming in to add them to his will, a will you were blocked out of, of course. When he told you about my upcoming auction and the Isidore Bonheur statue, you knew the timing was of the essence. You had to make sure he died before he had a chance to get the statue added to his will. Then if you hid it well enough, you could collect it later, once the police had stopped their investigation.”
Emma’s shoulders shook as she sobbed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she wailed.
“Only problem was,” Lacey continued, “Hugh didn’t win. Oxana did. But even that didn’t faze you. You just had to wait until she passed out drunk, then sneak into her room and steal it. Then you hid it in a place you thought no one would look for it—Hugh’s house. But the police found it after all, and your entire plan went belly-up. When you heard me proclaim to Suzy that I had the statue, your greed got the better of you. And you turned up here. With this poisoned vase.”
Just like that, Emma’s tears ceased immediately. Her act as the grieving partner stopped like someone had pressed a switch. In its place came a look of cold fury.
In a flurry of pink sparkles, Emma snatched up the vase and raised it above her head to throw at Lacey.
But Chester was lying in wait. He came bounding out and leapt up at her, knocking the vase from her hands. The pristinely presented woman went flying to the floor. The gorgeous Shelley vase landed with a crash, cracking clean in half.
“Police!” Beth Lewis cried, emerging from the back auction room where she’d been lying in wait. “You’re under arrest!”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Lacey sat in the waiting room of the Wilfordshire police station, nervously drumming her fingers on her knees. At the sound of the internal door opening, her head darted up.
Oxana waltzed out, her Louboutins thudding on the sparkly linoleum. She took one look at Lacey and grimaced. “Why are you here?”
Lacey stood from the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Did you get the statue back?”
“Yes,” Oxana replied, lazily. “I’m the legal owner. I can’t wait to get it back to the Ukraine. It will look wonderful in the guest bathroom. Right on the toilet cistern.” She flashed Lacey a sly smile, then marched past her and out the door.
Lacey watched her go and sighed. After all that, the gorgeous piece of art was going to be hidden away in the guest bathroom of a Ukrainian tycoon. On the toilet no less!
The internal door squeaked again, and Lacey turned to see Colin striding out into the waiting room.
“Lacey?” he said. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it the last day of the festival? I thought you’d be busy at the store.”
She gave a little shrug. “I guess I wanted to say goodbye. And apologize. You know. For everything.”
“It’s been quite the journey, hasn’t it?” he said with a rueful chuckle. “Looks like I almost met my match in Emma.”
“The player almost got played,” Lacey quipped.
“Quite,” Colin replied. Then he held out a hand to her. “No hard feelings?”
Lacey shook his hand. “No hard feelings,” she confirmed.
Colin gave her a parting nod, then walked past her to the doors. Before he stepped through them, he looked over his shoulder.
“Your partner,” he said. “He’s a lucky guy.”
“Thanks,” Lacey replied. “Goodbye, Colin.”
He flashed her a grin. “I don’t do goodbyes, Lacey. See you later.”
She watched him leave, wondering if that really was the last of Colin she’d see, or whether he might just show his face in Wilfordshire again one day.
*
Lacey returned to the store. It was the last day of the festival. Soon the rich folk would be packing up and heading home and with them the chance of Lacey making back all the money she’d sunk into the auction stock. At least Oxana’s payment had cleared for the Isidore Bonheur, but Lacey had still invested a lot in the horse stock she wouldn’t get back for at least another year.
The bell went and a short, bald man entered.
“Dustin Powell,” he said.
Lacey recognized him immediately. “Lucky bidder number one,” she said.
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “I bought the military riding boots, but then cancelled my order because of… well, you know… all that murder stuff.”
“I remember,” Lacey replied. “How can I help you?”
“I wanted to know if they’re still available,” Dustin Powell said.
“The boots?” Lacey said. “Yes, they’re still available.”
“Great. I’ll take them.”
Lacey stopped herself from acting too happy, though she was ecstatic on the inside.
Amazingly, her store was filled with customers, all looking to buy.
“We heard what you did,” one of them said. “You found the killer.”
Before the end of the day, Lacey was able to sell all of her horse stock.
She was on a high. With all the extra income, she’d finally be able to hire a new staff member to ease the burden on Gina. Maybe she’d even be able to start holding auction viewing events, like the ones she’d seen at Sawyer & Sons.
Thinking of Sawyer & Sons made Lacey suddenly remember her resolve. She’d promised she would call them about her dad once the festival was over. Well, today was the last day. Everything was drawing to a close. Xavier hadn’t been back in touch with any new leads. It was time to bite the bullet.
The pamphlet was still at home in her dresser drawer, but it didn’t take long for Lacey to find the Sawyer & Sons website. It was a clunky old one, the sort that needed Gabe’s magic programming fingers. She found the number and grabbed the phone.
Her heart was pounding as she dialed the number and listened to the ring tone.
“Sawyer & Sons, this is Jonty speaking, how may I help you today?”
Jonty. The man who had run the auction the day Lacey visited the manor house. The man she was certain was one of the sons.
She cleared her throat. “This might be a very strange question,” she explained, “but I’m looking for someone who I believe used to visit your auction house on a regular basis. His name was Frank. And he was…”
“….American,” Jonty finished for her.
“Yes!” Lacey said, her heart leaping.
“I knew him. You’re Lacey, aren’t you?”
Hearing her own name shocked her. Her excitement gave way to trepidation. “I am. How did you know that?”
“Because Frank always said you’d find him one day. That one day we’d get a call out of the blue from you asking after him. And that when we did, we were allowed to pass on his message.”
Lacey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was true. Her dad really had been to Sawyer’s.
“What message?” she asked, fearing the worst.
“Less a message. More a request. He asked for you to write to him.”
“Write to him?” Lacey stammered. “How? I don’t know where he is.”
“That’s why he left his address,” Jonty replied.
Lacey’s mind began to swirl. Address? Her long-lost father, the man who’d become a ghost to her, had a solid, physical address?
“Can you give it to me?”
“I can,” Jonty said. “But I need to remind you he asked for you to write. Not turn up out of the blue.”
“I’d send a carrier pigeon if he asked me to,” Lacey said. “You have my word.”
“One moment. Let me fetch it.”
Lacey waited, feeling her hands trembling. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening. After all these years, she’d followed all the clues and leads and had finally actually found where her father was.
She heard the phone being picked up again. “Do you have a pen?” Jonty asked.
“Yup,” Lacey said, though she was hardly able to hold it in her suddenly sweaty fingers.
“Your father has set up home in Eastwater Bridge, in the Lake District,” Jonty explained, as he told her the house number, street name, and postcode.
“The Lake District?” Lace exclaimed. “But that’s in the north! I thought my father was in Canterbury.”
“He left Canterbury,” Jonty told her. “Not that long ago either.”
Lacey was stunned as she ended the call.
Her mind was spinning.
Taryn marched in. “Lacey, can you sign my petition? I’ve decided we need a new Wi-Fi provider for the high street,” she said. “The system went down AGAIN and I had to reboot it.”
Lacey frowned. “What?” She could hardly comprehend that she was now in possession of her father’s address, let alone devote any mental attention to Taryn’s Wi-Fi problems.
“The Wi-Fi. You know, the thing that makes the internet happen.”
“I know what Wi-Fi is,” Lacey replied. “But what do you mean there’s a provider for the high street?”
Taryn gave her a look like she was dumb. “Check your options. It’s called Wilf_High_Free. All the store owners get it. Don’t tell me you’ve been paying for a separate connection all this time.”
Lacey had. But that wasn’t important. She checked her settings and saw, indeed, that the Wi-Fi existed. Gabe must have used the local free one to run the auction, rather than her personal one. Then during the auction, the high street Wi-Fi went down, switching them automatically onto Lacey’s personal network. All Gabe would’ve seen at the time was that there was still connectivity—albeit on a different network. But from Lacey’s end, the switch occurred during those precious few moments when Hugh was trying to put in a new bid. The internet dropping out right then had been a fluke of timing, and its interruption to her auction hadn’t been anything nefarious at all.
The final mystery had been solved.
Lacey felt an overwhelming sense of content that the last piece of the puzzle had finally been put into place. She looked up at Taryn and smiled, gesturing for her to hand over her clipboard and pen.
“Sure,” she said, relieved that everything was back to normal. “I’ll sign your petition.”
EPILOGUE
After a long and busy day at the store, Lacey locked up and headed into the high street to discover the whole place had been transformed for the end of season party. Gone were all the signs for the tourists, and the window displays of horsey things. Gone, too, were all the summer decorations and bunting. Instead, orange bunting had been hung up, giving the place a distinctly autumnal feel. There were tables lined up on the sidewalks, and children ran around laughing and playing. Lacey smelled barbeque. There was a cotton candy machine. All kinds of fun things.
She’d like to have gone home to get changed, but there was no time. Because at that moment, a flash of pink caught Lacey’s eye, and she noticed Gina and her Kiss-Me-Quicks arranged in a lovely display of pink. Curious, Lacey headed in that direction.
As she got closer, she was surprised to see a huge balloon archway, and a banner hung between the telephone poles that read: HAPPY 40TH BIRTHDAY, LACEY.
Lacey gasped. “It’s my birthday!” she exclaimed to Chester.
She’d been so caught up in the festival and Hugh’s murder, she’d completely forgotten her birthday.
Suddenly, it all made sense. Gina had been shifty because Lacey had caught her growing the Kiss-Me-Quicks which were meant to be a surprise. And there, under the banner and balloon archway, stood all her friends and acquaintances. Nigel. Suzy and Lucia. Ivan. Stephen and Martha. Carol. Jane. Taryn. Beth Lewis. Even Karl Turner!
“Happy birthday, Lacey,” they said.
“This is from all of us,” Gina said, handing her a certificate.
Still spinning from the shock of the surprise party, Lacey glanced down to see she was holding an official sponsorship pack for a donkey named Alice from the rescue center Gina had mistakenly used the image of for their auction ad. Lacey could tell from the white smudge on Alice’s nose that she was, indeed, the exact same donkey.
“Ooh, Gina!” Lacey cried, touched and amused in equal measure. “It’s our poster girl!”
“That’s the deluxe package, which means you can visit Alice as often as you want,” Gina said.
“I love it!” Lacey cried.
Just then, she noticed Emmanuel, Tom’s new assistant, standing beside a huge, three-tiered cake. He gave her a cheeky wink. Suddenly, Lacey understood his strange comment when he’d said she looked too young. He must’ve known Tom was planning this surprise party for her, and was shocked she was turning forty! And the balloon arch! That was why Tom had been on the quiet side road when she’d been in Rosie’s cafe with Colin; he’d been going to the balloon store!
Tom stepped toward her with a grin on his face.
“You did all this for me?” Lacey gasped.
All his absences suddenly made perfect sense. He wasn’t just busy with the festival—he’d been arranging all of this for her birthday, one she herself had barely thought about.
“Do you like it?” he asked, kissing her.
“I love it!” Lacey exclaimed. “This was what you were doing all that time?”
Tom nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve not been around enough. I promise to do better.”
Lacey shook her head. It felt wrong for Tom to be apologizing after having gone to so much effort to make her fortieth birthday special. And besides, wasn’t she the one who really ought to apologize, considering everything that had happened with Colin?
“I need to explain about the other day,” Lacey said. “When you saw me in the coffee shop.”
Tom’s eyebrows drew together.
“It wasn’t what it looked like,” Lacey said hurriedly. “But I shouldn’t have done it. Because of how it looked to others. It’s not fair to you.”
Tom shook his head and started to chuckle. “Lacey, I hardly even remember what you’re talking about. And don’t be silly. You can have coffee with whoever you want. I trust you. It wouldn’t exactly be fair of me to expect you to sit around twiddling your thumbs on your own while I’m too busy to see you! If people want to gossip about a woman having coffee with a man then that’s their problem, not yours. Not ours. I never thought anything untoward was happening.”
Lacey felt her shoulders relax. It was a typically Tom response. She’d had no reason to worry at all. Of course her wonderful boyfriend would shrug it off as the insignificance it was.
She flashed him an adoring gaze. “Thank you so much for arranging all of this. It’s so sweet. I kind of pushed the whole turning forty thing to the back of my mind. I guess I can’t avoid it now though!” She laughed and gestured to the huge banner.
“Actually,” Tom said, “you can ignore it a little bit longer, since this party isn’t just for your birthday.”
“It’s not?” she asked, bemused.
Tom shook his head. “Nope.”
And to Lacey’s astonishment, he bent down on one knee and brought a small black box out of his pocket.
Lacey gasped, her hands going to her mouth. In her peripheral vision she could see her friends gathering around, watching with rapt attention. But her attention was focused like a laser on Tom and the black box as he snapped open the lid to reveal a ring inside. It was an Edwardian-style diamond engagement ring in rose gold.
“Is it…”
“Antique? Yes, of course,” Tom said, laughing.
“Sorry!” Lacey squealed. She was supposed to be quiet right about now, not asking questions about the authenticity of her engagement ring! But you can’t take the antique out of the
girl. She pressed a finger to her lips. “I’ll be quiet now.”
Tom flashed her a loving smile. “Lacey,” he said, “will you marry me?”
NOW AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER!
PERISHED BY A PAINTING
(A Lacey Doyle Cozy Mystery—Book 6)
"Very entertaining. I highly recommend this book to the permanent library of any reader that appreciates a very well written mystery, with some twists and an intelligent plot. You will not be disappointed. Excellent way to spend a cold weekend!"
--Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (regarding Murder in the Manor)
PERISHED BY A PAINTING (A LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY—BOOK 6) is book six in a charming new cozy mystery series which begins with MURDER IN THE MANOR (Book #1), a #1 Bestseller with over 100 five-star reviews—and a free download!
Lacey Doyle, 39 years old and freshly divorced, has made a drastic change: she has walked away from the fast life of New York City and settled down in the quaint English seaside town of Wilfordshire.
Fall has arrived in Wilfordshire, bringing with it Fall festivals of food, charming holidays and refreshing return to simple normalcy. To celebrate their new proposal, Lacey and Tom finally get a romantic countryside trip together, and Lacey is thrilled to stumble upon a rare painting in the most unexpected place—a shack on the side of the road.
But Lacey has no idea how rare and valuable his painting actually is. When she finds out the shocking news, she grapples with whether she should return it—when a shocking twist and a dead body put her right in the middle of a crime that she must, with her beloved dog at her side, solve—or else lose all that she has worked for.
SILENCED BY A SPELL (Book #7), FRAMED BY A FORGERY (Book #8), and CATASTROPHE IN A CLOISTER (Book #9) are also available for pre-order!
