A Novel Murder Page 13

  “Then that makes it simple,” Jonathon declared. “We go to see Meredith, telling her we’re helping the local police build up a picture of Teresa Malvain’s life in Merrychurch, and is there anything she can tell us. Then we can segue into the book and see what she says.”

  “She’s hardly going to admit it, is she?” Professor Harcourt exclaimed. “She’s not going to say, ‘Oh, fancy that, she wrote a book describing how I murdered my aunt so I could inherit everything. It’s a fair cop, Guv. I’ll come along quietly.’”

  Melinda stared at him, then burst into a peal of bright laughter. When she composed herself, she smiled. “With these two, one never knows. People tend to talk to them. A lot.”

  “It’s Jonathon,” Mike concluded. “They take one look at that face and instantly trust him.”

  Jonathon said nothing, but reached over and covered Mike’s hand with his.

  “Or, as in your case, fall in love with him.” Melinda smiled warmly.

  “Best decision I ever made, giving him a lift from the station.” Mike grinned.

  Professor Harcourt coughed. “I hate to break up this mutual appreciation party, but you have a murder to solve.” His eyes twinkled. “And I’d love for you two to solve it, rather than that sneering detective.”

  “We’d like that too.” Jonathon finished his last morsel of cake, then glanced at Mike. “And seeing as we have guests arriving tomorrow, maybe we should talk to people while we can.”

  He imagined there wouldn’t be much time for investigating, not if the discussion went as he hoped.

  As we hope, he amended. Mike was as excited by the prospect as he was.

  “What about you, Professor?” Mike asked. “Will you be going home now?”

  Harcourt shook his head. “I’m going to spend a few days longer. Besides, I haven’t been given official leave yet. It seems my presence is still required here. So I intend to discover some of Merrychurch’s beautiful gardens, seeing as I can’t work on my own.”

  “Do you like gardening?” Melinda’s eyes lit up. “Because you are more than welcome to join me in the vicarage garden. There is always so much to do at this time of year.”

  “That would be splendid.” Professor Harcourt beamed. “Now I am so glad I came to tea.”

  Jonathon smiled. Professor Harcourt would be happily occupied, while they got on with a little sleuthing. First stop would be Meredith Roberts.

  Paul Drake could wait a while longer.

  “I WAS at your Bonfire party last year,” Meredith announced as she poured coffee for them. “I wanted to come over and say hello, but you know how it is. Too many people around, feeling shy….”

  Mike had never been shy, but he could empathize. “Jonathon is hoping to do it again this year.”

  Her face lit up. “Oh, that would be wonderful.”

  Jonathon was gazing at their surroundings. Mike had to admit they were charming. The cottage had a cozy feel to it, with low-beamed ceilings, and parquet flooring covered in thick rugs.

  “This room is lovely,” Jonathon said suddenly. “And I like the fireplace. There’s nothing like a real fire in the wintertime, is there?” Logs were stored on either side of the chimney breast, piled up to waist height. A thick rug lay in front of it.

  Meredith nodded enthusiastically. “You can’t really see yourself reading by a radiator, can you? But there’s something magical about a log fire.” She gazed at the room. “And it is a lovely house. I was so lucky that Aunt Barbara left it to me. It’s nothing like the poky little house I was living in. That was just a box compared to this.” She got to her feet. “Come and see the kitchen.”

  Jonathon and Mike followed her across the wide hallway into the large square kitchen. A range dominated one wall, painted in dark olive green. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, and from the window came the scent of potted herbs. The floor was covered in deep terracotta tiles, and the overall impression was that of a typical country kitchen.

  “Did your aunt like cooking?” Mike asked, looking at the shiny pans hanging from hooks above the range. “This looks like a great kitchen for a good cook.”

  “I don’t really know.” Meredith gave a shrug. “Auntie and I weren’t that well-acquainted, to be honest.”

  “And yet she left you her house? She must have cared for you,” Jonathon reasoned. There was no response from Meredith, apart from a noncommittal noise. He met Mike’s gaze briefly, and there was the tiniest inclination of his head toward the cabinets. Mike followed his gaze and saw immediately what had caught Jonathon’s attention.

  A couple of large bottles of oil, the picture of a peanut on both labels.

  Meredith turned to face him at that moment, and Mike looked away from the bottles. “I do like your hallway,” he said, exiting the kitchen and stepping into the dark entrance hall. Paintings covered the white walls, and below one was a low bookshelf in dark oak. Mike peered at the books, recognizing some of the titles instantly.

  Well, well, well. Meredith is a Teresa Malvain fan. She appeared to have every book in the Summersfield series.

  Meredith gestured to the living room. “Let’s go back to our coffee, shall we?” They followed her there, and Meredith sat in the wide armchair beside the fireplace. “So, you’re here because you want to know about Teresa Malvain, from villagers who knew her from way back? I remember her, of course.” Her thin face tightened even more. “Can’t say I really liked her. She was a terrible gossip. You daren’t tell her anything, for fear she’d tell the whole village. Because that’s what she did.”

  “Well, we know now she wasn’t above taking true incidents from the village and putting them in her books,” Jonathon said in a conspiratorial tone.

  “She never did.” Meredith’s eyes opened wide in surprise, but her tone was flat and unconvincing to Mike’s experienced ears.

  “Really,” Jonathon continued. “Why, only yesterday we were discussing one of her books, and someone said it reminded them of someone in the village.” He was staring at her, his brow slightly furrowed.

  “Get away.” That same look of surprise was there, only this time, something flickered in Meredith’s eyes.

  Mike had a good idea why Meredith wasn’t asking about the book, but he wasn’t about to let her off the hook. “It was a story about an old lady who died in suspicious circumstances, only to have all her money and property go to a relative who no one had expected to inherit. A relative who hadn’t spent a great deal of time around her aunt.” Mike widened his eyes dramatically. “Of course. Now I know why your name is familiar. They were talking about you.”

  Meredith froze. “Me? But what has that got to do with me?”

  “Well, you just told us your aunt left you this house and that you didn’t really know her all that well. Maybe someone thought that sounded similar to the case in Teresa’s book,” Jonathon suggested with a helpful air.

  “But Auntie’s death wasn’t suspicious,” Meredith declared loudly, her eyes flashing. “Why would someone say that?” She narrowed her gaze. “Who said that, more to the point? They can’t go around spreading malicious rumors like that.”

  “Did you know your aunt was going to leave you everything?” Mike asked.

  “I had no idea. It was a complete surprise. I was as flabbergasted as everyone else when I found out.”

  “Did you know she’d made a will?” Jonathon asked. His furrowed brow hadn’t altered.

  “No,” Meredith responded immediately, although she nodded.

  Mike knew what that meant. He pushed on. “Surely that’s not the first time you’ve heard about the similarities between your circumstances and Teresa’s book. I mean, you must have thought that yourself when you read it.”

  Meredith blinked. “I haven’t read it,” she said, her hand coming up to her mouth.

  Mike mimicked her blink. “Really? Oh. I was sure you must have, after I saw it on your bookcase out there.” He pointed toward the hallway.

  “Oh. Those wer
e Auntie’s books. I’m not even sure what’s on those shelves.” She let out a light laugh. “I’m not much of a reader.”

  “Your aunt obviously was. She has the entire collection of Teresa’s books.”

  “Now I know where I’ve seen you before.” Jonathon gave a wide triumphant smile. “You were in the pub on Friday night.”

  “Me?” The word came out as a squeak. “I’m not really one for going to the pub.”

  Jonathon shook his head. “No, I remember you. I brought a gin and tonic to your table, and the lady you were with had a glass of sherry.”

  “You’re mistaken.” Then she stilled. “Oh. Wait. Yes, I did pop into the pub that night. I was meeting my friend, Emma. I didn’t stay long, though. There were too many people in there.” Meredith glanced at her watch. “Oh, look at the time. I must get on. So much to do.” She stood. “Well, it was nice to finally meet you, and I hope I helped, but I really must get on.”

  Mike rose to his feet, and Jonathon did too. “Thank you for the coffee, and your time.” He shook her hand, and she showed them to the door. As they reached it, Mike paused. “You know, something’s been bothering me, and I just figured out what it is. Those books of your aunt’s? They couldn’t possibly have belonged to her.”

  Meredith froze. “Why on earth not?”

  “Because your aunt died in 2001, right?”

  Meredith gave a cautious nod.

  “Well, the first Summersfield book only came out in 2012, so for your aunt to have bought it would be sort of impossible.” Mike flashed her a wide smile. “Thanks again for the coffee.” Without waiting for her reply, he walked out the door, with Jonathon behind him.

  Once they were outside, Mike strode purposefully to the car. They got in, and Jonathon chuckled. “Nice catch. It didn’t occur to me about the books until you pointed it out. And she certainly didn’t look happy that you’d noticed.” He shook his head. “That was stupid.”

  “People do stupid things when they’re flustered, and Meredith was definitely flustered.” Mike glanced back at the house. “She’s going on the list. She lied to me—twice.”

  Jonathon laughed. “How could you tell which statements were lies? None of it rang true to me.”

  “Two things gave her away. She covered her mouth when she was speaking. That is classic. We all have a natural tendency to want to cover up a lie. And she said no, but nodded. We used to call that a verbal-nonverbal disconnect. Our brains are wired to make those match up, so when there’s a disconnect, it’s noticeable.”

  “Remind me never to try lying to you,” Jonathon muttered. “So now what do we do?”

  Mike had already considered that part. “We see if we can find out Aunt Barbara’s cause of death and whether or not it was suspicious. But well done for remembering that Meredith was in the pub.”

  “I didn’t.” Jonathon’s eyes sparkled.

  “What?”

  “I made it up.” He rolled his eyes. “Come on. You saw how many people were in the pub. Even with my memory, I couldn’t recall her.”

  “But… you mentioned her order. The gin and tonic and the sherry.”

  Jonathon nodded cheerfully. “And I did deliver an order like that. I only suggested it was to her after seeing a bottle of gin in her living room.” He shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

  Mike chuckled. “And it paid off. We now know she was there. And if her aunt’s death was suspicious, then next we look at the will. When it was written, more importantly, and whether the aunt changed it suddenly.” He reached across and cupped Jonathon’s cheek. “You are amazing.”

  “That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.” Jonathon took Mike’s hand in his and kissed his fingers. “Okay. Back to work. Where next?”

  Mike snickered. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s almost time for dinner. Paul will have to wait until tomorrow morning.”

  “Only if we can get to see him before Ruth and Clare arrive.”

  “We’ll fit him in. Even if it’s only to rule him out.”

  There was no way Paul Drake could be their killer. But then, Mike reasoned, he’d had the same thought about the last murder.

  We can’t rule anyone out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “IS IVY ready for the invasion?” Jonathon asked as he buttered a slice of toast.

  Janet laughed. “She said last time your guests were here, she couldn’t believe how much food you all got through.”

  “I blame Ruth,” Jonathon said promptly, with a grin. He wasn’t surprised when Mike guffawed.

  “Ohh, I am definitely sharing that when they get here. I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes. Ruth looks like she can pack a mean wallop.”

  “She does! She used to beat me up when we were children.”

  Janet’s lips were twitching as she left the dining room.

  Mike gave him a hard stare. “I am storing up every word you say, you know. I want to stay on their good side.” He paused, his cup of coffee in his hand. “I hope they go for this. I’ve thought of little else all week.”

  Jonathon thought it adorable how badly Mike wanted to be a father. “We’ll have to wait and see. We can only hope they like the idea as much as we do.”

  “What time are they arriving?”

  Jonathon consulted his phone. “Ruth’s last text said they’d been on the road for an hour, which means they set off very early.” He laughed as his phone warbled. “Well, that answers your question.”

  “What does it say?”

  He grinned. “Put the kettle on. We’re gasping.” He sent Ivy a text. “I’ve let Ivy know we’ll need more coffee and two more cups.” He quickly composed another. “And more toast. They’ll be hungry.”

  “Aren’t you excited too? You seem so calm.”

  Jonathon put down his phone. “I am so excited, I feel like I’m about to explode. But I’m tempering it with practicality.” There was always the chance that this might not come off.

  Janet poked her head around the door. “Your visitors have arrived,” she said with a smile.

  Jonathon hastily wiped his lips with his napkin and got up from the table. Mike followed him out of the room, through the house, and to the imposing entrance hall. Outside, Ruth was in the process of locking the car, while Clare carried the bags toward the house. She dropped them when she saw him and held her arms wide.

  “Hey. It’s so good to see you.”

  Jonathon gave her a tight hug, before being seized by Ruth. “I like my ribs the way they are,” he grumbled. “Intact.” He glanced over his shoulder at Mike. See? He mouthed.

  Laughing, Ruth released him. “I echo what Clare said. It’s good to see you, even if it does feel like you’re up to something.”

  “I never could hide anything from you.” Jonathon took her arm and led her into the hall. Clare and Mike followed, with Mike carrying the bags. “We have fresh coffee and toast waiting for you.”

  “Then do we get to hear what this is all about?” Ruth demanded. “Have you finally come up with the plan?”

  “A plan,” Mike said with a smile. “But I guarantee it’s like nothing you’ve considered.”

  “Now you have intrigued me. But lead me to the coffee.”

  “You speak for yourself,” Clare added. “I want toast.”

  “The wonderful Ivy does know we’re coming, doesn’t she?” Ruth’s dark eyes sparkled with humor. “Especially after last time.”

  Jonathon squeezed her arm. “I really am glad you’re here.” The excitement he’d pushed down hard the last few days refused to stay down a moment longer.

  Please let them go for this.

  RUTH LET out a low cry. “That’s wonderful news! Congratulations!” She hugged Mike first, then wrapped her arms around Jonathon. “I see you finally found the right moment,” she whispered.

  “Not exactly.”

  Clare hugged them both. “So when did this happen?”

  “Six days ago.” Jonathon stilled. “Was it only s
ix days? It feels like so much has happened since.”

  “That wouldn’t be the small matter of the death of a famous author, would it?” Clare sighed. “Tell me you’re not looking into it.”

  “We could tell you that,” Mike admitted, “but we’d be lying.”

  “You’re not here to talk about the murder,” Jonathon said quickly. When both women gaped at him, he held up his hands. “Yes, it was murder. Now let’s get onto the real reason why we invited you.”

  Ruth frowned. “It wasn’t to tell us you’re engaged, then?”

  Jonathon shook his head. “We’re thinking about September for the wedding, but there’s something we need to discuss with you before that.”

  Mike joined him on the couch, laying his hand on Jonathon’s knee.

  Ruth listened intently as Jonathon told them about what had led to his proposing to Mike, including the conversation with his father, before going through their idea, mentioning only the part that Ruth would play, as they’d agreed earlier. At one point she gave Clare a startled glance, and Jonathon’s heartbeat sped up. When he’d finished, Jonathon took a deep breath, anxiously awaiting their reaction.

  “I don’t believe this,” Ruth murmured.

  “I know. This is incredible,” Clare said from beside her.

  Jonathon’s heart sank. “Then you don’t like the idea.”

  Mike sagged back against the seat cushions.

  Ruth widened her eyes. “Oh God, that’s not what I mean at all.” She gave a chuckle. “It’s just that… we were really happy that you invited us for the weekend, because we were about to invite ourselves to ask if… Mike would consider donating his sperm so that Clare can have a baby.” Her eyes twinkled. “Great minds, eh?”

  Mike burst out laughing. “We had the same idea.”

  Jonathon couldn’t believe how things were proceeding. This is actually going to work.

  “We do have one stipulation, however.” Ruth grinned. “We do not want to be pregnant at the same time.”

  Claire laughed. “Two pregnant women in the same house? Hell no.”

  “Wait a minute.” Jonathon looked from Clare to Ruth. “The same house? Is there something you want to tell us?”