A Novel Murder Page 19

  “If they didn’t know about it before the dinner, three of them certainly knew about it after. The subject came up during the meal, and Phil, Melody, and Fiona were all on Teresa’s table,” Jonathon confirmed.

  “Yes, but consider this. They would have needed to know before then to come prepared. Because where would they find peanut oil between the dinner and the pub? On a Friday evening in Merrychurch?” Melinda wiped her mouth with her napkin. “And now, I must finish my tea and be on my way. I’m meeting with the ladies who help me arrange the church flowers to decide on who is doing what during the next few weeks. This has been delightful, boys.”

  “Thank you for coming.” Mike leaned across and kissed her cheek. “Say hello to Lloyd for us.”

  Jonathon kissed her other cheek, and Melinda flushed. She collected her handbag, then after patting them both on the shoulder, she left the tea shop.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Mike rested his chin on steepled fingers. “You know when she was talking about Professor Harcourt?”

  Jonathon stilled. “I think we might have had the same thought. Did that remind you of anything?”

  “You mean, like the plot Teresa outlined for her true crime book?”

  He nodded. “Except for one thing. Teresa was asking about a shotgun, and Professor Harcourt’s brother-in-law used a pistol. That doesn’t sound like the same case.”

  “There’s one way to find out.” Mike gestured to the table. “Finish your coffee and cake. We’re going to pay Graham a visit.”

  “You think he’ll know anything about this? This happened before he was born.”

  “We’re going to see him because if anyone can find out what happened, he can.” Mike declared emphatically.

  “Yes, but can he do it without incurring Gorland’s wrath?” Jonathon said with a grin. “I agree, though. There’s a limit to what we can discover. Just try to ask him when Gorland isn’t around?”

  Mike huffed. “Yeah, right. I swear Gorland has a klaxon in his office that goes off whenever we’re in the vicinity. Because wherever we don’t want him to be, he shows up.”

  “I hate to state the obvious, but we’re going to the police station. It’s a foregone conclusion that he’ll be there.” Jonathon didn’t want to run into him either.

  One, Gorland was a nasty piece of work, and two, he clearly had it in for Mike.

  Jonathon avoided nasty people, especially those who were homophobic to boot.

  AS SOON as they entered the quaint village police station, Mike groaned inwardly. Gorland was standing behind the main desk, talking with Graham. He scowled as they approached.

  “You’d better be here to report a crime and not scrounging for information,” he said with his familiar sneer.

  “What about helping police with their inquiries?” Jonathon asked with an innocent air that had Mike fighting to stifle a snort.

  Gorland opened his mouth, clearly about to give them a piece of his mind, but then another uniformed officer came out of the rear office. “A call for you, sir,” he said quietly. “It’s the Met.”

  Gorland scowled. “You’d better not be here when I get back.” He left them in a hurry.

  Graham rolled his eyes. “Mate, your timing is way off. Quick, tell me what you want before he gets off the phone.”

  “Can you see what you can find out about the death of Professor Harcourt’s wife and then his brother-in-law’s suicide?” Mike asked quickly.

  Graham gaped at him. “You don’t suspect Professor Harcourt, surely.”

  “No, we don’t,” Jonathon replied, “but we need to check it out.” He reeled off the bare details of Teresa’s plot and the similarities between the two.

  Graham made some hasty notes on a nearby pad. “Gotcha. I still think it’s a wild goose chase, but you’re right, it needs investigating, if only to dismiss it. I’ll call into the pub tonight if I’ve heard anything.”

  “Call in even if you haven’t,” Mike told him. “There’ll be a pint with your name on it, as usual.” He coughed. “Not that I’m bribing a police officer with the offer of a pint, you understand.”

  Graham cackled. “Yeah, right. Like I’d do all this for a measly pint.” He grinned. “Three, at least.” He tapped his notepad. “I’ll get to work on it right away.” He cast a furtive glance in the direction of the office. “Well, as long as he leaves me alone for five minutes.” He shook his head. “I hate the way he talks to you two. It’s not like you haven’t helped us solve a couple of cases, right? Personally, I think you accomplish a lot, but he doesn’t see that.”

  “He doesn’t like us,” Jonathon said simply. “And I think we all know why that is.”

  “Yeah.” Graham’s face darkened. “Well, an attitude like that will not get him an invite to the wedding of the decade.”

  Mike had to laugh. “I take it you want one.”

  “Too right, mate!” Graham gave a grin, and his bad mood evaporated. “I can’t wait.” A noise from behind him had Graham twitching. “Okay, get out of here. I’ll see you later. And I’ll find out what else I can dig up on those other suspects too. Sod Gorland. I know which side my bread is buttered. I’ll stick with the guys who’ve helped me solve two cases.”

  They left him to it and headed back to the 4x4. “Let’s see what Graham can find out.”

  “He’s not a murderer,” Jonathon muttered as he fastened his seat belt.

  “Professor Harcourt? I’m with you,” Mike agreed, “but you know we have to check it out, right?” He pulled out of the police station car park and took the lane that led to the manor house.

  “What are we doing now?”

  “We are going back to your place, where we will read some more of Teresa’s notes. Maybe there are even more people out there who need investigating.”

  God, he hoped not. They had way too many suspects as it was.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  JANET WAS clearing away the coffee cups when Jonathon’s phone buzzed into life. He waited until she’d withdrawn from the room before answering. Jonathon smiled when he saw Ruth’s name. “Possible baby news,” he told Mike as he connected the call. “Good evening.”

  “I’m just calling to see if you two are around this weekend. We need to visit.”

  Jonathon didn’t miss the note of urgency in her voice. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not… wrong, exactly. I went to see my doctor yesterday, and it proved very informative.” Ruth paused. “Now, you’re not going to turn into a delicate little snowflake if I mention ovulation, are you?”

  He laughed. “Definitely not.”

  “Oh, thank God for that. Okay, the upshot is… we don’t need a doctor or a clinic. We do this ourselves. We work out when I’m at my most fertile, and then we do the deed. Well, not you and I, you understand. But it turns out this coming weekend is the best time. You do have a turkey baster in that enormous kitchen of yours?”

  For a moment Jonathon was stunned into silence. “Turkey baster? You don’t mean….”

  Across the room, Mike’s eyebrows shot up.

  Ruth giggled. “Well, not an actual baster, but the principle is the same. And I’m joking. We don’t need yours. There’s one in the kit.”

  “There’s a kit for this?”

  She laughed. “I know! We were amazed too. But it explains everything. All we need from you is the… er… donation. Clare will do the rest. Then I spend a day doing absolutely nothing but lying down, to give it the best chance of catching, as it were.” Her voice softened. “You do realize it might take a few tries, don’t you?”

  “I know.” That didn’t matter. The idea that they were going to do this thrilled him to the core.

  “That’s why we thought no time like the present. So… is this weekend okay?”

  “Of course. I’ll have your room ready. And Ruth? I told my father.”

  There was a pause. “I bet that conversation went down like a lead balloon. You can tell us all about it when we see you. Enjoy the
rest of your evening, and give my love to Mike.”

  Jonathon assured her he would, then disconnected the call. He gazed at his phone in silence, until Mike laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Jonathon looked up. “I didn’t even hear you move.”

  “That’s because I’m part ninja.” Mike smirked. “Turkey baster? I can’t wait to hear this.” Then he glanced at his watch. “But you’ll have to tell me on the way to the pub. It’s time to open up.” He grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch and held out a hand to Jonathon. “That’s if you’re coming with me?”

  Jonathon smiled as he took Mike’s hand and got to his feet. “Graham is going to stop by, isn’t he? You might be too busy to talk to him.”

  “Good point.”

  As they headed out to Mike’s car, Jonathon relayed Ruth’s news. Amusing though it had been, their conversation had lit a fire in him.

  We’re really going to do this.

  MIKE SCANNED the bar, his chest tight. The pub was reasonably busy, but his mind wasn’t on task. For the third night running, there was no sign of Paul Drake, and it pained him that they might have irrevocably broken a good friendship. In the far corner, Jonathon sat with Graham, their heads together as they talked, Jonathon scribbling notes.

  “Glad to see you haven’t given my stool to anyone else.”

  Mike blinked. Paul stood by the bar, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Mike pulled himself together. “As if.”

  Paul bit his lip. “I’m here ’cos Graham called. Said I might learn something useful if I came along.” He nodded toward the pumps. “Well, get a move on. Beer won’t pour itself, y’know.”

  Mike reached up for a pint glass and slowly filled it. “You do know we never thought that—”

  “Not gonna talk about that, all right?” Paul’s face darkened slightly, but then he sighed. “I get it. I know how it looked. And then I got to thinkin’. Me staying away… how did that look? Like I had something to hide? Screw that.” He sat on the stool, one arm resting on the bar while he reached for the peanuts with the other. “You wanna be careful. Some folks are allergic to these, y’know.”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “You don’t say.” A thought occurred to him. “Paul, you remember the coffees I poured for Teresa and Professor Harcourt that night?”

  Paul nodded.

  “Well, you were in the perfect spot to see anyone who was nearby. To see anyone who might have had the opportunity to put something in the cups.”

  Paul’s lips twitched. “I wondered when you’d get around to askin’ me. Some ex-copper you are.”

  Mike stilled. “Then you do remember who you saw?”

  “Sure. Not that I saw anyone do it, you understand. I’d have said if that were the case. But I remember who was here.” Paul counted off on his fingers, his forehead creased into a frown. “Them writers, for one. Him with the glasses, and her, a tiny little thing. Then there was that Fiona.” He grimaced. “Lord, her perfume was so strong, it reached you before she did. Then there was Harold, and—”

  “Harold Tenby? He was here that night?”

  Paul nodded. “Not for long, mind you. In fact, I was surprised to see him. Not a social drinker, our Harold. Not surprisin’, when you think about it. But yeah, he was around. Barbara Tremont’s niece was here too, with her pal.” Paul scowled. “That was a rum business, and no mistake.”

  “You’re talking about her inheriting the house?”

  “And the rest. Heart attack?” Paul huffed. “She was a walker, was Barbara. Used to go for long rambles with that walking group from Lower Pinton. You’ve seen ’em, those folks that walk with them ruddy long staffs, like ski poles?”

  “The power walkers, you mean?” Mike saw them in the village sometimes.

  Paul’s face lit up. “That’s them. Now tell me this. How does someone who goes on power walks drop dead from a heart attack? But no one said a word when she died.” His eyes darkened. “You mark my words, that niece of hers had a hand in it.”

  The irony of the situation struck Mike. “And that was also the plot of a Teresa Malvain book.”

  Paul widened his eyes. “No kidding. Did she write anything original?” He took a long drink from his pint.

  “You still like your ale, I see.” The voice came from behind Paul. A short woman with long red hair stepped into view, her gaze focused on Paul.

  Paul froze before spluttering beer onto the deep red carpet. “Bloody ’ell!” He almost fell off his stool, whirling around to stare at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the…?”

  She smiled before addressing Mike. “A gin and tonic, please.” Then she sat on the stool next to Paul’s. “And get him another. He seems to have spilled most of his.”

  Paul put down his glass on the beer mat before looking her in the eye. “Did you get lost? ’Cos it’s only taken you thirteen years to find your way back.”

  With a start, Mike realized who she was. “You’re April.”

  She smiled. “So he does still mention me.”

  “Mention you?” Paul’s eyes bulged. “Half the village thinks I chopped you up into little bits and fed you to the pigs.”

  April burst into raucous laughter. “So it’s true, what that copper told me on the phone. I thought he was joking.”

  “Copper?” Paul squinted at Mike. “You?”

  Mike shook his head and pointed to Graham, who was walking over to them. “Him.”

  Graham held out his hand. “Mrs. Drake. Good of you to come.”

  She shook it. “Well, it all sounded so intriguing.”

  Paul gaped at her. “That’s all you have to say after thirteen years?”

  Graham coughed. “I think this is a conversation best taken elsewhere, don’t you? I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.”

  “Just as long as he knows I’m not coming back,” April flung out.

  “And as long as she knows I wouldn’t have her,” Paul fired back. “She’d only upset the pigs.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Come on. We can talk at the house.” He raised his voice. “Now that this lot have seen you’re alive and in one piece, of course.” And with that, he marched her out, his hand at her back.

  Mike stared after them, stunned.

  Jonathon came over to the bar. “Never a dull moment around here, is there?”

  “Was that April Drake I saw outside?” Fiona McBride leaned on the bar. “A G and T, please, Mike.” When he placed a glass in front of her, she chuckled. “Wow. Fast service around here.”

  Graham cleared his throat. “Another pint, when you’ve a minute, Mike.” He peered at Fiona. “Mrs. McBride. Glad I ran into you. Saves me the trouble of paying you a visit tomorrow.”

  “Me?” The word came out as a squeak. “Why would you want to see me?” Fiona stared at him in undisguised panic.

  “It’s the little matter of a parcel you sent to Teresa Malvain. Not to mention some letters. You know, the ones you didn’t sign?” Graham’s eyes gleamed.

  Mike was impressed. So far it was only supposition that she’d been the one who sent the anonymous letters, but he had to admit, Graham was a superb bluffer.

  “L-letters?” Fiona took a drink from her glass. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Teresa did, though. She knew it was you.” Jonathon kept his face straight. “We know this from her notes.”

  “And then there’s the small matter of your fingerprints,” Graham added, his gaze flickering briefly in Mike’s direction.

  Fiona’s mouth fell open. “And how would you know they’re mine? You haven’t got mine on file, have you? Plus, I wiped the book clean before I packed—” Her eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

  Graham beamed. “I love dealing with amateurs. They always get flustered.” He sighed happily as Mike handed him a pint glass. “Cheers.”

  Fiona glared at him. “You tricked me.”

  Graham peered at her over the rim of his glass. “Er, excuse me? You sent anonymous
letters. You sent a book containing a highlighted phrase designed to intimidate her. And you knew all about her allergy, didn’t you? In fact, of all the people at that dinner table, you knew her best.”

  “And you were here the night she died,” Jonathon remarked.

  “Close enough to drop peanut oil into her coffee, in fact,” Mike said quietly. “And unlike the others, you knew about the allergy prior to the dinner, so you could have come prepared.”

  “You… you think I killed her?” Fiona paled. “But… I ran her fan club.”

  Mike nodded. “Perfect cover.” He tilted his head. “After all, you’ve had fifteen years to plan this, haven’t you? It was 2003 when your husband died, wasn’t it?”

  It was as if his words took all the fight out of her. Fiona crumpled visibly. “Yes,” she said simply. “But I was only going to humiliate her. I wanted her to suffer, the way she’d made me suffer all those months, while he….” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t kill her.”

  Graham placed his hand on her shoulder. “You can tell me all about it. Down at the police station.”

  “Am I… am I under arrest?”

  “Right now, you’re helping the police with their inquiries,” Graham said in a low voice. He gave a nod in Mike’s direction. “We can talk another time.”

  “Sure.” Mike watched as Graham guided Fiona toward the door. He leaned on the bar and shuddered out a long breath.

  “Are you okay?” Jonathon covered Mike’s hand with his.

  “Yeah. I didn’t expect that. Not to mention Paul’s wife showing up.” He imagined she and Paul had a lot to discuss.

  Jonathon’s lips twitched. “When he said she’d upset the pigs….” He gazed thoughtfully at the door. “Do you think Fiona did it?”

  “I think she had the motivation and the opportunity. Just because she says she didn’t kill Teresa doesn’t mean she’s telling the truth.” Mike inclined his head to the corner where Jonathon and Graham had been sitting. “So what did Graham have to say before April showed up? It looked like a riveting conversation.”

  Jonathon nodded. “It was. And I have a lot to tell you. But not here. Later.” He smiled. “You have pints to pull.”