A Novel Murder Page 20

  “And I have things to tell you too.” Mike leaned closer. “We need to look at Meredith and Harold.”

  Jonathon stilled. “Did they know about her allergy?”

  The words stopped Mike cold. “You know what? I have no idea. I was so busy thinking about the fact that they were here and they both have motives, that I didn’t think about that part.”

  Jonathon nodded slowly. “Then that’s what we have to work on.”

  “When you two have finished gasbaggin’, I’ll have a pint.” Seth grinned. “A man could die of thirst in this pub.”

  Mike laughed and reached for a clean glass.

  Sleuthing would have to wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  JONATHON PAUSED as he got out of the car. “So… are you just dropping me at my door like a gentleman, or…?”

  Mike grinned. “Trust me. My thoughts of what I want to do with you tonight are not those of a gentleman.”

  “Thank God for that.” Jonathon opened the front door quietly. It was past midnight, and he didn’t want to make too much noise, for fear of disturbing Janet.

  Mike followed him into the house. “Anyone seeing your bathroom would be convinced I already live here.”

  Jonathon chuckled. “I could say the same about yours. I think that’s what I’m looking forward to the most after the wedding. Having you under the same roof, permanently.” Whether Mike sold the pub or not, they were both in agreement on that score—they’d had enough of spreading themselves between two homes. He paused in the entrance hall. “I was going to make some tea before bed. Do you want some?”

  Mike stilled. “Tea? Since when do you drink tea?” He peered closely at Jonathon. “Okay, where is the real Jonathon?”

  He laughed softly. “Idiot. Ivy was talking about this tea she’d found that was great for drinking before bed. It’s called CatNap, and its ingredients are supposed to calm you before sleep. I bought some, but I haven’t tried it yet.”

  Mike shrugged. “I’ll try anything once.”

  Jonathon led him down the stairs into the large kitchen. The air was filled with the scent of bread, and Jonathon sighed happily. “Ivy’s been baking.” He went over to the whistling kettle, filled it, and placed it on the range to heat before opening the cabinet to find the box of tea. He sniffed at the contents. “I smell something lemony.”

  “Never mind the tea.” Mike sat at the huge wooden table in the center of the kitchen. “How about you tell me what Graham said?”

  Jonathon placed a couple of heaped teaspoons of the mixed leaves into a china teapot. “That story the police officer told Teresa? It was about Professor Harcourt.” When he caught Mike’s sharp intake of breath, he turned around, the spoon still in his hand. “And before you get carried away, there was absolutely no evidence linked to his wife’s death to suggest foul play. Everything Melinda said was true. There had been other incidents of bad wiring in the house, which was why it was going to be sorted out. And the alcohol level in her blood was high enough to show she was very drunk.”

  “And what about the brother-in-law? Was that bit true too?”

  Jonathon nodded. “He went to the police about a year after she died, demanding they investigate.”

  Mike stared at him. “A year? He waited that long?”

  Jonathon leaned against the worktop. “I know. Surely if he was suspicious, he’d have gone earlier than that. He claimed Professor Harcourt had wanted to make a change from GP to pathologist for some time, but that his sister had refused both to move nearer to London and to provide him with the money to study for a further five years.”

  “I take it the wife had all the money. So the brother-in-law thought money was the motive.”

  Jonathon nodded. “Then, on what would have been his wife’s birthday, Professor Harcourt organized a dinner at a restaurant with a few of her closest friends and her brother. According to the guests, during the meal, the brother-in-law drank far too much and starting repeating his accusations.”

  “How did that go down?”

  The kettle started to whistle, and Jonathon quickly took it off the heat, then waited a moment before pouring the water into the teapot. “According to the witnesses, Professor Harcourt was really gracious and very understanding about the whole thing. He’d had a bit to drink too, they said, but he didn’t appear to bear his brother-in-law any malice, despite the drunken accusations he kept firing at the professor.” Jonathon sighed. “One woman said she felt really sorry for him. The brother-in-law kept asking why Professor Harcourt hadn’t managed to save her—him being a doctor, after all—and how it wasn’t over. He said one day he’d prove Harcourt did it.”

  “Had the police already investigated by this time?”

  Jonathon gave another nod. “But it seems the brother-in-law wasn’t going to accept their findings. Anyway, when the meal ended, Professor Harcourt apologized profusely before calling a taxi. The police questioned the taxi driver when the brother-in-law was found dead. He confirmed they were both drunk. He’d dropped off the brother-in-law first. In fact, he helped Professor Harcourt get him into the house. Then he dropped off the professor. They discovered the body two days later when Professor Harcourt grew concerned after repeated calls with no response.”

  “The brother-in-law did shoot himself?” Mike asked.

  “With their father’s pistol, just like Melinda said. He was found on the couch, with photo albums on his lap and beside him. Photos of him and his sister as children. There was also a copy of the eulogy he’d given at her funeral in his hand. The inquest ruled it as suicide. Everyone said how close he and his sister had been, and with it being her birthday…. His doctor testified that he suffered from depression and had never really gotten over her death.” Jonathon took two cups from the cabinet and placed them beside the teapot.

  Mike rested his chin on his laced fingers. “Then what on earth was Teresa talking about? This can’t be the true-life murder case she was going to write about. There’s nothing to suggest it was murder.”

  “I agree.” Jonathon stirred the leaves in the pot.

  “Did anyone hear the gunshot?”

  “No one around to hear. He lived in a remote area, with woodland behind the property and no other houses nearby. The coroner estimated the time of death as having taken place early in the morning, maybe three or four o’clock.”

  “So why would Teresa think this was anything other than a suicide? She must have had some reason to pursue this.”

  Jonathon poured the tea through a strainer into the cups. “You know what I think? This is a wild goose chase, just like Graham said. There’s no evidence to suggest either of those deaths was murder. And why a police officer would put her onto this, suggesting there was, is….” He shook his head as he put down the teapot. “I don’t understand any of it.”

  Mike got up from the table, walked over to him, and enfolded Jonathon in his arms. “Then let’s not think about it anymore tonight, okay? Let’s drink this… interesting-smelling tea, and get some sleep.”

  Jonathon bit his lip. “I thought you had designs on my body.”

  Mike grinned. “That part comes after the tea. Don’t worry. You always sleep well after a good… finish.”

  Jonathon smirked. “My, how delicately put.”

  “I’m practicing for when we’re parents.” Mike’s eyes sparkled. “Things not to say in front of the children.”

  Jonathon chuckled. “I can see it now. ‘Daddy, you and Papa must be very good dancers, because you do a lot of dancing.’”

  To his surprise, Mike’s face lit up. “Until just now, I hadn’t given a thought to what our kids will call us. But Daddy and Papa… I like that.” He cocked his head to one side. “Which one am I?”

  “That’s easy.” Jonathon stroked Mike’s face with a gentle hand. “With that beard? You’re Papa Bear.” Then his breathing caught as Mike lifted him into his arms. “Papa Bear is strong. I like that.”

  Mike kissed him languidly, his
hands easily supporting Jonathon’s weight, and suddenly Jonathon didn’t want to be in the kitchen. He wanted softness beneath him, and a hard, lean body curled around him.

  Sleep could wait.

  MIKE ROLLED over to find Jonathon sitting up in bed, his laptop already open in his lap. “Phone not enough for you?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  “Listen, I’ve found something.” Jonathon scrolled down the page. “Remember at the meal, Teresa said her investigations were more thorough than those of the police?”

  Mike huffed. “I’m hardly likely to forget that remark.”

  “Well, she was investigating the brother-in-law’s suicide, and I don’t know how she did it, but she found something they missed.”

  “Like what?” Mike sat up in bed, running his fingers through his hair.

  “A witness.”

  Mike frowned. “A witness to what?”

  Jonathon peered at the screen. “Apparently there was a tramp in the woodland. He’d made himself a den out there, catching rabbits, birds, squirrels—whatever he could get his hands on.”

  Mike grimaced. “Lovely.”

  “Yes, but the important part is… that night, he saw something near the brother-in-law’s house.”

  Mike had heard enough. “Okay, I’m not buying any of this. The police would have found him and questioned him.”

  “Teresa’s notes say they did, but they dismissed what he had to say because he’d been off his head on cheap cider or whatever he’d managed to buy. And it did sound a little… strange.”

  “What did he see?”

  Jonathon clasped his hands in his lap. “A blue angel.”

  Mike stared. “A blue… angel. Did he specify what shade of blue?”

  “Actually? Yes. Pale blue. It was walking through the woods.”

  Mike threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, well, now I see why they dismissed it. What makes you mention it?”

  “The fact that Teresa thought it worth noting. It must have meant something to her.”

  “She doesn’t say what in her notes?”

  Jonathon shook his head. He closed the laptop carefully. “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Should I be worried?” Mike teased. But when Jonathon’s thoughtful expression didn’t alter, he shifted across the bed and took Jonathon’s hand in his. “What is it?”

  “Do you want to know what bothers me? The missing notebook. That points to the murderer not wanting anyone to know what was in there. So where is it? We know it was in her bag down in the pub, because Professor Harcourt saw it. And she took her bag upstairs. No notebook. But it has to be there. No one went up there and removed it, because we’d have seen. It wasn’t exactly small, right?”

  Mike had to agree. “But we’ve been over that room several times. There’s nowhere it could be.” He sighed. “You want to take another look, don’t you?”

  Jonathon leaned back against the pillows. “For a while now, I’ve had the feeling I’ve missed something, and I think it’s connected to that notebook. Something I’ve seen, something I’ve heard, or something someone said to me…. And it eludes me.”

  “You think it’s back at the pub?”

  “I don’t know!” Jonathon scowled. “All I do know is, it’s driving me crazy.”

  “Then let’s have some breakfast and go over there. Two pairs of eyes and all that.” Privately, Mike didn’t think there was anything to find, but at least he could help alleviate Jonathon’s nagging doubts.

  “Thanks, Mike.” Jonathon leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Then he pulled back a little, as if seeing Mike for the first time. “Good morning,” he said softly.

  Mike laughed. “I know that look, and I’m not going to let you get sidetracked. Shower. Breakfast. No sex.”

  Jonathon snickered. “Spoilsport.” He moved the laptop out of the way, climbed out of bed, and sauntered across the room toward the bathroom, giving a little arse wiggle as he went.

  “And you can cut that out too. I’m not falling for it,” Mike called after him. He lay back against the pillows, his mind on Jonathon’s words.

  What on earth could he have missed?

  AS MIKE approached the pub, Jonathon caught sight of a car pulling up in front of it. “Oh dear. You have an unwelcome visitor.”

  Gorland leaned out of the window, his perpetual scowl in place.

  Mike drew alongside him. “Good morning. In need of a drink already? I’m afraid we don’t open until midday.”

  “I suppose you’re feeling pleased with yourselves,” Gorland said with a sneer. “Not that you had much of a hand in it.”

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” Mike said pleasantly.

  “Well, she might have been in your pub when she gave herself away, but it’s police procedures that will nail her. If she’s guilty.”

  Jonathon caught his breath. “Fiona McBride?”

  Gorland opened his eyes wide. “Don’t act like you’re surprised. Although, I’ll admit, your instincts were spot-on when it came to Meredith Roberts. Turns out the aunt’s new will was posted to her solicitor, with an accompanying letter. The two witnesses who signed it… no one’s ever heard of them. So it looks like we have at least two people who could have done this. There’s going to be an exhumation of the aunt’s body, of course. They must have missed something the first time. But we’ll get our man—or woman, in this case.” He smiled, his eyes glinting. “I guess this means I won’t be seeing you hanging around the police station anymore. Oh dear, how sad.”

  “Does this mean you can prove either of them put peanut oil into Teresa’s cup?” Jonathon demanded. “Especially as no one saw them do it.”

  Gorland frowned. “According to your pathetic, amateurish investigations, maybe. I think you’ll find a witness will turn up. They always do. Someone saw something, and it will come to light.” Jonathon had to admire his confidence. “And now that I’ve delivered my good news, I’ll go back to work. Sorry you didn’t catch the perpetrator this time, boys, but you can’t win every time.” With a wave of his hand, Gorland drove away.

  “I have never wanted to hit someone so hard in all my life,” Jonathon ground out as they entered the pub.

  “You think he’s right?” Mike bolted the door behind them.

  Jonathon’s mind worked furiously. “I think he’s forgetting something very important. The missing notebook. The EpiPens. Her phone. When did either of them manage to remove them from Teresa’s bag without being seen? Because they are integral to this case.” And with that, he dashed over to the door that led upstairs, with Mike behind him.

  Inside the room, Jonathon scanned its contents. Mike was right about one thing—they’d been over that room with a fine-toothed comb. He took a deep breath and looked again. “There is one place we didn’t look, you know.” Jonathon pointed to the old oak wardrobe in the corner.

  “Wait a minute. We looked in there. And we used a mirror to check the top. Nothing up there either.” Mike went over to it. The wardrobe stood away from the two walls. “Plus, we checked behind it and at the side. Nothing.”

  “Then what about underneath?”

  Mike blinked. “You can’t get underneath. That plinth goes all the way around the base. There’s no room to slip a cigarette paper under it, let alone a notebook.”

  Jonathon gazed at the wardrobe for a moment. Then he went over to it, placed his hand on the side, and pushed it toward the wall, tilting it. “Look under while I hold it. But be quick. This thing is heavy.”

  Mike got down on the floor and peered underneath.

  His gasp told Jonathon all he needed to know.

  “It’s here. The notebook is here. And so are two EpiPens. And Teresa’s phone.” He paused. “And a tiny glass vial.”

  Carefully, Jonathon let go and eased the wardrobe back down to the floor, where it landed with a thud.

  “What are you doing? That’s evidence. We need to remove everything.” Mike sat back o
n his haunches, staring up at Jonathon.

  He nodded. “And the only people who know what’s under there are you, me and the murderer. They’re going to want to retrieve them. And soon too. They can’t risk leaving them. Because who knows when you’ll decide to repaint the room, update the furniture…?” Jonathon smiled. “Trust me. They’ll be back.”

  “So what are we going to do? Hide in the wardrobe in the hopes of someone turning up? Set up cameras?”

  Jonathon laughed. “Nothing so hi-tech. But we’ll need backup.”

  And he knew exactly whom to ask.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  JONATHON WAS helping Mike by collecting empty glasses when Professor Harcourt strolled into the pub. “Professor!” Jonathon laughed. “You’re still here? I’m surprised your wife hasn’t started divorce proceedings for desertion by now.”

  Harcourt chuckled. “Far from it. She said on the phone last night that I must go away more often. Something about having complete control of the TV remote….”

  Mike snickered. “A brandy for you?”

  Professor Harcourt tut-tutted as he sat on the nearest barstool. “It’s bad when the bartender knows your usual tipple. But yes, please. One last brandy before I have to leave.” He glanced around the pub. “Despite the murder, this has been a most pleasant stay. I’d forgotten how peaceful it is in Merrychurch. A couple of weeks here was just the tonic I needed. Unfortunately, real life rears its ugly head.” He gave a heartfelt sigh.

  “You don’t sound like you want to leave us,” Mike commented.

  “I don’t, and that’s the honest truth. Unfortunately, the B and B where I’m staying needs my room for a prior booking, so I have to go home.” Professor Harcourt smiled. “And in spite of my jokes, it will be good to see my wife. Our son should be home by now for the summer too.”

  “Why not stay one more night?” Jonathon suggested. “There’s a room here. Unless you’d feel awkward about staying in the room where Teresa….”