Murder at Honeychurch Hall: A Mystery Page 18

I threw myself into his arms and kissed him full on the lips.

  “Steady on,” he exclaimed, turning pink. “Isn’t your mother here?”

  “I’ve missed you and I’ve had a horrible day.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” said David. “This is a quick stop to say hello.” He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “We can meet up later.”

  “How is your father-in-law feeling?”

  “Not good, I’m afraid. I left Trudy and the kids in Dartmouth. We’ll stay there tonight at the Dart Marina Hotel. The town is a zoo.”

  “You’re all staying in Dartmouth?” I said, unable to hide my jealousy and disappointment. “I thought they were going to stay near the hospice and you would try the local pub.”

  “Kat, please,” said David. “It’s just for one night. I’ll share with Sam.” He ruffled my hair. “Come on, don’t be silly. Trudy knows I’m seeing you this evening.”

  I wasn’t sure if this was supposed to make me feel better. The shock of discovering Vera dead coupled with Mum’s stupefying revelations and the mysterious business with Gayla had left me very wobbly. “I really need you, David.”

  “And Trudy needs me more. You must understand what she’s going through, after all.”

  Of course I understood but frankly, I found it hard to believe that Trudy had parents. I’d always felt she’d been beamed down from another planet.

  “Alright,” I said with a sigh. “Mum’s in the kitchen. Follow me.”

  I threw open the kitchen door and ushered him in.

  “Iris!” beamed David. “Good God. What happened to you?”

  “I am truly a miracle to behold,” said Mum.

  “Mum had a car accident, fell into a manhole, fractured her foot in the downstairs loo when the cistern fell off the wall, plunged through the floorboards, narrowly escaped electrocution—shall I go on?” I said.

  “And it’s all Eric Pugsley’s fault.”

  David raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “Eric is the man I told you about on Friday,” I told him.

  “Ah yes,” said David. “The bloke with the scrapyard.”

  “That’s right,” said Mum. “And he’s just murdered his wife.”

  “What?” David exclaimed.

  “We don’t know that, Mother,” I said.

  “But it’s true,” said Mum. “Kat found Vera’s body in the grotto this morning. Just before lunch.”

  David’s jaw dropped. “What?” he said again.

  “Yes, I did,” I said. “I found her. It was horrible.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now!”

  “She’s telling you now,” Mum echoed. “Would you like a cup of tea? We’re on gin.”

  David turned to me. “Is she joking?”

  “No, we’re definitely on gin.” Mum raised her glass. “Cheers!”

  “It’s true. It happened—actually, no one knows when it happened. Can we talk about something else please?” I marched over to the kettle, checked there was enough water inside, and flipped the switch. “And honestly, I’m fine.”

  The three of us waited in silence for the kettle to boil. I watched Mum, who kept on staring at David, who stared politely back.

  “Good grief, is that a Meissen?” David walked over to the dresser. He picked up the snuff box and examined it closely. “Very nice. The painting of the elephant is exceptionally fine. Is this yours, Iris?” Gesturing to the dresser shelves he added, “No, of course not, you collect coronation china.” David didn’t even try to mask his distaste. “Not that there’s anything wrong with collecting coronation china.”

  There was another awful silence.

  “The snuff box belongs to Lady Edith,” I said, desperate to fill the silence. “She has quite a valuable collection so I’m told.”

  “Really?” David cocked his head. “How interesting. Very interesting.” He put down the snuff box and picked up the mouse. “How is Jazzbo these days?”

  “That’s not Jazzbo Jenkins,” Mum and I chorused.

  David jumped. “Sorry,” he said and dropped the toy back onto the table.

  “Don’t do that,” we chorused again, shared a look, and laughed.

  “Ah, what an interesting photograph,” said David, peering at the picture of Mum and her stepbrothers. “Surely that isn’t you, is it, Iris?”

  “No.” Mum seized the photograph and put it back on the dresser.

  David started opening and closing drawers, closely watched by my mother who mouthed the words “nosey parker.”

  He wandered over to the pantry and looked inside. “Lots of space here, Iris. Good heavens. All those long-life meals and gallons of water—are you preparing for an invasion?”

  “I’m being invaded right this second,” said Mum sweetly.

  David opened the back door and gave a start of alarm. “Cows!”

  “This is the country,” Mum declared. “They live here.”

  I joined him, whispering, “I am so sorry about my mother.”

  “She hates me.” David pointed to the partially submerged tractor in the field. “What happened there?”

  “It fell into an old tunnel.”

  William was circling the submerged tractor with a long stick. Every few moments he’d poke the chassis.

  David sniggered. “He’s not going to get that thing out in a hurry.”

  “You might be surprised,” I said. “Apparently he used to be the strongest man in the world.”

  “Is that the bloke who was supposed to have murdered his wife?”

  “No, that’s William,” I said. “He’s the stable manager here.”

  William spied us and strolled over. “Afternoon!”

  “Ask William in,” Mum called out. “Then we can have a party.”

  William poked his head in. “I can’t stay long. Rupert is on his way. He’s going to help me get Eric’s tractor out.”

  “Where is Eric?” Mum asked.

  “Helping police with enquiries.”

  “I bet he is,” she said.

  William stepped onto the back doormat and removed his muddy Wellington boots and padded inside. He wore clean, white socks. I thought of Vera’s lone polka-dot Wellington boot and her painted toenails.

  “They’ve actually arrested Eric?” I asked.

  “No. From what I’ve heard he’s denying everything,” said William. “Says he’s got a firm alibi at the Hare & Hounds.”

  “Of course he’d say that!” Mum said with scorn. “But who else would have done it?”

  William shrugged. “We’ll soon know. The police seem to think it could be connected with that poor girl—Gayla.”

  “Do you think there is a connection?” I asked, surprised.

  “Who’s Gayla?” said David.

  “She was the nanny,” I said. “Unfortunately, she’s gone missing.”

  “Goodness, it’s never dull around here.” David offered his hand. “I’m David.” The two men introduced themselves.

  “Grab yourself a mug—or a glass—from the dresser, William,” said Mum.

  “Just tea, please. Are you feeling better, Kat?” said William. “I was worried about you.”

  David threw a protective arm around my shoulders. “She’s fine.”

  “We’re all in shock,” said Mum.

  William padded over to the dresser. There was a crash as Mum’s photograph fell onto the flagstone floor.

  “Oh, what an idiot I am,” William cried. “Sorry. I think it’s broken.”

  “Be careful of the glass,” said David. “Dustpan and brush?”

  I retrieved both from under the kitchen sink and handed them to David who stooped down to clear it up.

  William removed the photograph from the broken frame. “Good heavens. Is that you, Iris?”

  “No,” said Mum, snatching it from his grasp.

  “Boxing, eh? Looks like one of those old emporiums at the fair,” said William with a nervous laugh. “Where
was it taken?”

  “I have no idea,” Mum lied. “It was here when I moved in.”

  “Did you know that a boxing emporium used come here every summer?” said William.

  “Really?” said Mum, feigning innocence. “Well, I’ll be blowed. Fancy that.”

  “Let me.” William went to take the dustpan and brush from David but David held on tightly.

  “I’ve got it.” David deftly swept up the pieces. “Could have been worse,” he went on. “Thank God it wasn’t one of your coronation specials, Iris.”

  William gave a cry of surprise. “Or this—thank God!” He picked up the snuff box. “It’s Lady Edith’s! She’s been looking for it for weeks. Who found it?”

  “Kat,” said Mum.

  “You found it?” said William, turning to me. “Where exactly—?”

  “How many snuff boxes does the countess have, William?” said David.

  “Quite a collection. About thirty or forty,” said William. “I’ve never really counted. Where did you say you found it, Kat?”

  “Are they all of this caliber?” David demanded.

  William looked confused. “This what?”

  “Caliber. Quality?”

  “I don’t know,” said William, turning to me again. “Lady Edith will want to know where—?”

  “About twenty years ago, there was a robbery here,” David broke in. “I’m sure you remember it well.”

  Mum and I exchanged looks of surprise as David seemed to give William the third degree.

  “Actually, no,” said William. “I am probably the only person who did not grow up on the estate—wait—can you hear that noise?” He strode to the back door and flung it open. I could make out the sound of a diesel engine.

  “Rupert has brought the old Land Rover,” said William, exasperated. “We’ll never pull the tractor out with that.”

  “Perhaps David can help?” Mum suggested.

  William regarded David and his Florsheim shoes keenly. “We could do with an extra pair of hands—someone who can stand in the tunnel. The water’s not deep. We’ll kit you up in a pair of Wellies. What’s your size?”

  David blanched. “I’m not sure—”

  “David would love to, wouldn’t you, David,” said Mum.

  “Don’t make him, Iris,” William teased. “He’s a city boy. Doesn’t want to get his hands dirty.”

  “I’m afraid I’m due back in Totnes,” said David with a sniff.

  “I thought you were staying in Dartmouth?” I said,

  “I’ll be off, thanks for the tea.” William pulled on his boots and slipped the snuff box into his pocket. “I’ll return this. Her ladyship is going to be happy.”

  The moment William had gone, Mum said, “What’s happening in Totnes, David?”

  “My father-in-law is in a hospice.”

  “Oh, your father-in-law,” said Mum pointedly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  David gave an apologetic smile. “My wife and I are separated but I was always close to Hugh. It’s been a very difficult time.”

  “Separated, you say.” Mum poured herself another large gin and tonic. “I suspect you’re waiting until he dies before you can move forward with the divorce.”

  “Mother!” I said, appalled.

  I knew it was a wicked thing to think but at this precise moment I completely understood what drove people to commit murder.

  “Don’t worry, Kat.” David gave Mum a dazzling smile. “Your mother is only concerned for your welfare. She thinks I’m leading you up the garden path.”

  “And are you?” Mum asked.

  “What a question, Iris.”

  I grabbed the biscuit tin off the counter and removed the lid. “Chocolate digestive, anyone?”

  “Lovely.” David took a biscuit. “Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself, sweetheart?”

  “The usual,” I said with forced gaiety. “Cleaning, washing, cooking, typing—”

  “Helping look after the little boy at the house,” Mum chipped in.

  “His name is Harry,” I said. “He wears these goggles and is obsessed with Biggles.”

  “My son Sam loves Biggles adventure stories, too.”

  “Harry has a collection of model airplanes in his bedroom that used to belong to his grandfather and great-uncle. They were fighter pilots in both World Wars. Actually—” I paused, “Harry says he’s seen his Great-Uncle Rupert’s ghost and last night, I had this really weird feeling he was there, too.”

  David patted my hand indulgently. “You are funny, Kat.”

  “No, I really did. You believe in ghosts, Mum, don’t you?”

  But my mother seemed lost in thought. “How old are your children, David?”

  “Sam is fifteen and Chloe is seventeen,” said David.

  “Oh, you have two. How lovely.”

  I already knew what was coming and tried to kick Mum under the table but missed. “More tea, David?” I said desperately.

  “Well, that’ll be quite a big gap then, won’t it,” Mum said.

  “Gap?” said David.

  “When you have more little bundles of joy.”

  I jumped up and grabbed David’s arm. “Don’t you think you should be going?”

  “Yes,” said David gratefully and got to his feet. “Thanks for the—” but I’d already hurried him out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

  “I am so sorry about my mother,” I said. “She’s not herself today. She’s very upset about Vera. We both are.”

  “No. Iris is always like that with me,” said David. “But I really do try.”

  “I know.”

  “Nothing can be as bad as the first time I met your father.”

  “God, that was awful, wasn’t it?” I said. “All those questions about your honorable intentions. But you soon won him over with your charm.”

  Quite unexpectedly, I was hit by a wave of sadness.

  David put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a hug. “I know you miss him. And your mother must miss him, too, but she does seem happy here.”

  “Mum has been acting as if she’s been let out of jail.”

  “Well, Frank was pretty oppressive.”

  “No he wasn’t.” It was perfectly alright for me to criticize my father but I couldn’t bear anyone else to. “Dad was just old fashioned and believed that a woman’s place should be in the kitchen.”

  “So, allow Iris to do what she wants now,” said David. “She obviously wants to stay here.”

  “I’m not having this conversation again.”

  “Rick really wants you to come back to Fakes & Treasures. He’s begging you. He said to name your price.”

  “I told you I’m finished with the show. I’ve got too much on my mind right now.” I felt my temper growing. “I found a dead woman today for heaven’s sake.”

  “I know, I know,” said David soothingly. “Let’s talk about it another time, okay?”

  We stepped into the courtyard where a silver-gray Porsche SUV was parked next to the barn. It had a personalized number plate—WYN 1—and looked brand new.

  I was taken aback. “Oh! You’ve bought a new car. I thought we couldn’t afford it.”

  “It’s just a car,” said David. “Please let’s not argue, Kat. I have enough of that with Trudy.” David hugged me again. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Thoroughly irritated, I tramped back to the Carriage House. Mum was waiting by the front door. “It looks like David’s bought himself a new car.”

  “Were you eavesdropping?”

  Mum looked hurt but didn’t deny it. “I came to tell you that nice policeman Shawn just called,” she said. “He wants you to go to Vera’s cottage right now to answer some questions. Shall I come with you?”

  “No, thanks,” I said stiffly. “I think you’ve done enough damage for one day.”

  “Me?” Mum exclaimed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “It’s obvious you can’t stand David,�
� I said. “And what was all that about the photograph? Why did you lie?”

  Mum bristled. “It’s none of anyone’s business,” she snapped. “I’m sick of people judging me.”

  “You mean me,” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, you!” Mum shot back. “I told you not to come.”

  “You asked for my help!”

  “I don’t need it and I don’t need you.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but realized there was little point. Instead, I turned away.

  “Where are you going?” Mum demanded.

  “To see that ridiculous policeman,” I said wearily. “And perhaps by the time I come back you might be ready to apologize.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  An old black Fiat 500 was parked behind Shawn’s police car outside Honeychurch Cottages.

  Vera’s front door was ajar. I stepped into the front room to find a balding man in white overalls and latex gloves dusting for fingerprints.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m looking for Detective Inspector Cropper.”

  “Stay there. This is a crime scene,” he replied without bothering to look up.

  “And my fingerprints will be on those boxes,” I said. “I was here yesterday. I’m Kat Stanford.”

  “Rapunzel!” he exclaimed. “Well, well, well. Shawn said we had a celebrity in our midst. I’m Dick, by the way.”

  As always I gave a polite smile. “Shawn wanted to see me.”

  “Upstairs.” Dick nodded over to the open latch door in the corner. “Don’t touch anything!”

  Shawn and Roxy were in the first room on the right that appeared to be a storage area. Three of the walls had been lined with custom-made honeycombed squares, each containing a shoebox. Stuck to the outside of each one was a photograph of the shoes inside. Vera had been very organized.

  “How many pairs of shoes do you reckon, Roxy?” said Shawn.

  “One hundred ninety five. Do you want to bet?”

  “I say two-fifty. Winner buys the first round at the Hare & Hounds.”

  Roxy examined the sole of a Jimmy Choo peep-toe pump. “We’re the same size.” She slipped off her brogues and stepped up into the shoes, holding onto Shawn for balance. “Blimey. How can anyone walk in these things? I’ve gained five inches! Here, you try.”

  “Don’t be daft.”

  I tapped on the door and in a loud voice said, “Sorry to interrupt. Dick sent me up here.”