A Novel Murder Page 18

  Phil, Melody, and Meredith were definitely staying on the list.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “YOUR FATHER has arrived, sir,” Janet said in her quiet voice. “Shall I bring him here?”

  “Yes, please.” Jonathon gave the cozy living room a last glance, scanning it for anything they might have missed. He could still recall the look on Janet’s face when she retrieved a bottle of lube from between the seat cushions. Jonathon hadn’t known where to look. He wanted no such similar accidents while his father was around.

  Mike entered the room. “I saw his car. You ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Mike came over and kissed him. “Just remember, I’ve got your back.” When the door opened, he didn’t move, but remained at Jonathon’s side.

  His father walked into the room with a cautious air that was quite unlike him.

  Jonathon gestured to the couch. “Good evening. Please, sit. Would you like a drink before dinner? Mike is playing bartender for us.”

  Father smirked. “How apt. A Scotch and soda would be good.” He sat, his arm draped elegantly over the end of the couch. “I must admit, I’m curious to hear about this decision of yours. I half expected to see Ruth here.”

  “She left yesterday.”

  His father blinked. “Then she was here? This does involve her?”

  “Most definitely.” Jonathon noted his father’s satisfied expression. It was the look of a man used to getting his own way in all things.

  Not this time, Father.

  Mike brought over the glass of Scotch and a vodka and Diet Coke for Jonathon. “Pleased to see you again, sir.” He left them to pour himself a drink.

  Jonathon sat in the armchair next to the fireplace. “Dinner won’t be long. We thought we’d have a talk before eating.”

  Mike joined him, perching on the arm of the chair, his arm around Jonathon’s shoulders.

  His father settled back against the cushions. “Now, supposing you tell me your news. You do have news for me?”

  “Indeed I do. Father, allow me to introduce Mr. Mike Tattersall.” When his father’s brows knitted, Jonathon smiled. “My fiancé.”

  “Your—” That frown hadn’t budged. “I don’t understand.”

  Jonathon’s smiled widened. “You know, fiancé? I proposed, he accepted?”

  Mike held up his left hand, the ring glinting around his finger.

  “But Ruth… you and Ruth….”

  “Ah, yes. Ruth. Actually, I must thank you for your part in this.”

  His father’s eyes bulged. “My part?”

  Jonathon nodded. “When you suggested Ruth would be a good match, you were thinking about future children, weren’t you?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Mike and I decided you were right. So we approached Ruth to ascertain if she’d be willing to be our surrogate, and she agreed.” Jonathon beamed. “Hopefully it won’t be long before there’s the pitter patter of tiny feet, and you’ll be holding your first grandchild.”

  His father stared at them before taking a long drink from his glass. “I had assumed you and she would marry.”

  “Ah. Yes. Well. There’s a slight problem with that. She’s already in love with someone else. Fortunately, her future partner is more than happy for her to carry our child. Not to mention the tiny but extremely significant detail that I am gay, as you very well know, so marrying Ruth is out of the question, however much you may want that. Nor am I single.” He didn’t need to know the rest. Two shocks were more than enough for now.

  When his father gaped at them, speechless, Jonathon softened his voice.

  “Father, you’re getting everything you wanted, just without the wife part. The family line will continue. We’re hoping for a couple of children, but if things don’t work out the way we’ve planned, then we’ll adopt. Rest assured, a de Mountford will occupy this house for many years to come.”

  His father cleared his throat. “Can I ask… who else knows about this… engagement?”

  “Seeing as he got down on one knee in the middle of the pub, virtually the whole of Merrychurch,” Mike informed him cheerily.

  “You proposed… in the pub?” His father’s pained expression was almost comical.

  Mike nodded happily. “And I believe I have you to thank for that. He proposed immediately following his phone conversation with you.”

  “And how did the villagers react to this proposal?”

  “Why don’t you come to the wedding, and you’ll see for yourself?” Jonathon said with a smile.

  Father took another drink. “This is one battle I’m not going to win, isn’t it?”

  Jonathon had played nice long enough. “It shouldn’t be a battle. Not if you want me to be happy. Let me ask you something. How would you have felt if you’d been in love with Mother, but Grandfather demanded you marry someone else? And don’t tell me you’d have gone along with it for the sake of the family.” He sighed. “Father, I know. What irks you is not that I’m not marrying Ruth, but that I am going to marry a man. Isn’t it about time you accepted the fact that you have a gay son?”

  “You make it sound so simple,” his father said, his eyes wide. He gazed at Mike. “Can you honestly tell me your parents are happy that you’re gay?”

  “My parents have known I’m gay since I was a teenager. They’re happy I’ve found someone who completes me. And they can’t wait to have him as their son-in-law.” Mike tilted his head to one side. “Did you ever stop to think that publicly acknowledging you have a gay son might do wonders for your street cred?”

  Father blinked. “My… street cred?”

  Mike nodded slowly. “You’re a high court judge with an impressive record. I’m not suggesting for a moment that you hang a rainbow flag in your courtroom or walk in the Pride parade, but having a positive attitude toward the LGBTQ community would do you no harm.”

  His father gave Mike a look of frank amusement. “Why should anyone care about that?”

  “Because we’re living in the twenty-first century. Because LGBTQ rights are big news. Because LGBTQ rights are human rights. And because people are watching what you do. Who wants to be portrayed in the media as a homophobic asshole?”

  Jonathon listened with both amazement and pride. Mike couldn’t care less about his father’s status, and he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. And judging by his father’s contemplative expression, Mike had clearly given him something to consider.

  The door opened, and Janet came into the room. “Dinner is ready, sir.” She withdrew.

  “As I recall, you have a very good cook,” his father said as they made their way to the dining room.

  “Ivy is a treasure.” Jonathon glanced at Mike with a half smile. “When Mike’s living here, I’m going to have to work hard at watching his weight.” He waited for the explosion.

  “My weight? How many portions of Ivy’s lasagna did you eat last week?”

  “I’m thinking of turning one of the rooms into a home gym, just to keep him in check.” Teasing Mike was a joy Jonathon never tired of.

  To his surprise, Mike’s eyes widened. “Could we? Because right now the basement of the pub is where I store my weights and other stuff.”

  Jonathon came to a dead stop at the door of the dining room. “How come I didn’t know that?”

  Mike’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t exercise when you’re around, that’s why.” What was implicit in his glance, however, was the unspoken sentence: I get my exercise in other ways when you’re there.

  Thank God he kept his mouth shut. Jonathon didn’t think his father was ready for that much information.

  As they entered the room, his father shook his head. “You already sound like an old married couple. I suppose that bodes well for the future.”

  A few words grudgingly spoken, but to Jonathon’s ears, they were the beginning of a thaw, and inwardly he rejoiced.

  He might not dance at my wedding, but there’s every
chance he’ll be there.

  “THAT WAS a smart move of yours,” Mike murmured as he slipped between the cool sheets. The window was open, and the air that wafted through was redolent with the scent of night-blooming jasmine that grew in the garden below.

  “What was?” Jonathon lay beneath a thin covering that hid very little.

  “Putting your father in a room at the other end of the corridor. Although….” Mike grinned.

  Jonathon narrowed his gaze. “You already gave him enough of an education this evening. Trust me, the last thing he needs is to hear his son having sex.”

  Mike molded his body to Jonathon’s. “Then we are having sex?”

  Jonathon smirked. “Was there ever any doubt?” He enfolded Mike in his arms. “Can I be serious for a minute?”

  “Of course.”

  “I loved what you said to my father earlier. You spoke your mind, and you were honest.” Jonathon caressed his cheek. “I was so proud of you.”

  “I did it for his benefit. I intend on being around a long time, and he needs to know what to expect right from the outset. I see no point in sugarcoating things. He has to learn what he sees is what he gets where I’m concerned.” Mike hadn’t realized how strongly he felt until he saw Thomas’s reaction to their news. He couldn’t drag the man kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century, but he could point out a few truths.

  “I really think he’ll be at the wedding. He might attend with a lot of trepidation because, hey, it’s a gay wedding and he won’t know what to expect, but he’ll be there.”

  “Oh.” Mike chuckled. “I’ve just had a great idea. I know a few bars in London where they always have drag acts. What if we asked a load of drag queens to the wedding? We could fill up half the seats with them. Think of the look on his face!”

  Jonathon grabbed his jaw and held it firmly. “Wipe that idea from your brain. I mean it.”

  Mike laughed softly as Jonathon released him. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t do that. This wedding is going to attract a lot of media attention because of who your father is and who you are. I wouldn’t do anything to spoil our day. Even if the idea is really tempting.” He relished Jonathon’s arms around him. “What do you want to do tomorrow, once he’s left?”

  “I’d like to continue reading Teresa’s notes. Do you need to go back to the pub?”

  “Only to pick up some clothes and do some laundry.” Mike covered Jonathon’s hand with his. “We could have morning coffee at Rachel’s, if you’d like.”

  “Would you mind if I invited Melinda? She’s invited us to tea so many times, I’d like to return the favor.”

  Mike thought that was a lovely idea. “I’m sure she’d love to come. Call her first thing.” He paused. “Have you given any thought as to what you’d like for the wedding day? I know you mentioned the garden, but we need to start moving on this.”

  “Can we talk about this in the morning?”

  “Don’t you want to discuss our wedding?” Mike stilled as Jonathon shifted away from him, then smiled as he opened the drawer in the bedside cabinet. Mike knew what that meant. He caught his breath when Jonathon eased him firmly to lie facedown, and cool, slick fingers explored him. “I guess I’m not driving tonight.” He spread his legs wide, welcoming the intrusion.

  Jonathon’s breath tickled his ear, his warm chest pressed against Mike’s back. “Not initially. Your turn comes later.”

  Mike let out a happy sigh. “I’m all for equal opportunities.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “THIS IS very kind of you.” Melinda took a small bite of her scone, and her face lit up. “Oh my. Rachel has a very light touch. These are delicious.”

  Jonathon poured her another cup of Earl Grey. “It seemed only fair to invite you, after all those afternoon teas at the vicarage.” He bit his lip. “Did you ask Lloyd to come along?”

  Melinda rolled her eyes. “Lloyd has other things on his mind right now, such as a visit from the bishop. I left him to it. He probably won’t even notice I’m not there.” She added lemon to her tea, then sat back in her chair. “So… on to more important questions. Have you decided on a date yet?”

  Mike guffawed. “I wondered how long it would be before you mentioned the wedding. And the answer is, no, not yet. When we do, you’ll be one of the first to know about it.”

  She gave them a knowing smile. “Aha. Then it’s sleuthing business. Any closer to discovering Teresa’s murderer?”

  Jonathon sighed. “Well, we have some suspects.” He told her about Phil McCallister and Melody Richards. “They’re still on the list, although I’m not sure how we can find out more about them, seeing as neither of them are around.”

  “Rest assured, if the police feel there are grounds for investigating them, they’ll pursue them,” Melinda said sagely. “Now, what’s this I hear about you two harassing Meredith Roberts?” Her blue eyes twinkled, the skin crinkling around them.

  “Now she is definitely suspicious.” Mike relayed how she’d lied to them. “I want to know more about how her aunt died.”

  Melinda’s brow furrowed. “Meredith was never a frequent visitor, at least not until the last few months before Barbara Tremont died. But those final weeks, it seemed every time I walked through the village, she was on her way to or from Barbara’s cottage.”

  “Was her death expected?”

  Melinda’s frown deepened. “She was old, but her health had been reasonably good, I think. We were all a little surprised by the swiftness of her passing, if I’m being honest. It never crossed my mind that she may have had a little help.” Her face tightened. “And if that is the case, I hope the police—how does the phrase go?—throw the book at her.” She sipped her tea. “Any other suspects?”

  “We need to talk to Harold Tenby,” Jonathon informed her.

  Melinda sighed. “That poor man. It pains me to say this, but you might have something there. I have never seen a man so radically changed. And I know he blamed Teresa, with good reason.”

  “You think he’s capable of murder?” Mike asked.

  Melinda studied him closely. “Who knows what any of us are capable of when pushed to the extreme?”

  “We’ve made some headway with the missing notebook.” Jonathon told her about their discovery of the cloud. “And so far, it’s turned up one anomaly—how Teresa describes the meeting with Professor Harcourt, and how he described it. Though we can’t work out why he would lie about it.”

  “Professor Harcourt?” Melinda’s face fell. “That poor man.”

  Jonathon blinked in surprise. “Why such sympathy for him?”

  “Because tragedy has certainly dogged him.” Melinda leaned forward, her voice low. “His wife drank, you know. Oh, everyone knew about it, but it was one of those things you didn’t discuss in polite company. Well, one day she was in her bath, she’d drunk far too much, and she electrocuted herself with a hair drier.”

  “That always sounds like something from a film or a TV show,” Jonathon commented. “Does that really happen?”

  To his surprise, Mike nodded. “Not as often as it used to. I suppose wiring has improved in recent years.”

  Melinda’s eyes shone. “And there you have it. Theirs was an old house, with faulty wiring. It was due to be rewired later that year. And the hair drier was ancient too. An accident waiting to happen, the coroner ruled.”

  “Then it was an accidental death?” Jonathon inquired.

  “Oh yes, no doubt about that. Doctor Harcourt—as he was then—was distraught. None of us were particularly surprised when he sold the house and moved to London a little over a year later. He couldn’t stand living in the house where she died.” Melinda smiled. “As it turns out, that was the best thing for him. He went back to school to train to be a pathologist. And look at him now.”

  “That does sound tragic,” Mike agreed. “When was this?”

  “Let me see. It would have been the late eighties, maybe 1988. Professor Harcourt would have been in hi
s early thirties then.” Melinda gave a slow nod as she took another bite from her scone. After swallowing, she sighed. “Unfortunately, the tragedy didn’t end there. His brother-in-law committed suicide a year or so after her death. They were so very close, Professor Harcourt said. They had no parents alive, no other siblings. It was obvious his brother-in-law had never recovered from the loss of his sister. He shot himself with a pistol that had belonged to their father—a war souvenir, I believe—the night of his sister’s birthday.”

  Jonathon stared at her. “That’s awful. At least the professor found happiness again. He said he’s been happily married for twenty-seven years.” What Jonathon didn’t share was the wave of disquiet that washed over him. What the hell?

  Melinda’s face lit up. “Then I am happy for him. If ever a man deserved some good fortune, it’s Doctor—Professor—Harcourt.” She glanced at Mike with a half smile. “And what about Fiona McBride? What have you concluded about her motives for killing Teresa? Her husband died in 2003. Not that long to be harboring a grudge.”

  Mike took a bite of cake before responding. “There’s some evidence she might have been conducting a little campaign against Teresa. Whether that was as far as she took it, or whether she progressed to murder, we don’t know. What we do know is Phil, Melody, Meredith, and Fiona were all in the pub that night. Any one of them could have poured peanut oil into the coffee.”

  “Except how would they know which coffee was destined for Teresa?” Jonathon wanted to know.

  “Maybe they added it to both cups to be on the safe side,” Melinda said with a graceful shrug. “That’s what I would do.” When both Jonathon and Mike stared at her, she widened her gaze. “I was trying to put myself in the murderer’s shoes, that’s all.”

  Jonathon grinned. “Be thankful you weren’t there too, in that case. Except you have no motive for killing her.”

  “That you know of,” Melinda corrected, her eyes twinkling. “But here’s a question for you. How many of those suspects knew about her allergy?”