Two Birds with One Stone (A Marsden-Lacey Cozy Mystery Book 1) (19 page)

Meanwhile, Perigrine was using the GPS on his phone to find
his way back home. He had a pretty good walk ahead of him, but his step was
light with the pleasant knowledge that he had performed a great deed. His
thirst for adventure was satiated. Well, at least for the time being.

Chapter 32

MORNING DAWNED IN MARSDEN-LACEY and it was lovely and
crisp. The summer was getting on and some of the trees showed signs of turning.
Dew made the grass and hedges glisten. Birds sang their songs and did their
dances in appreciation of the plentitude of mother nature.

Humans emerged from their homes in different forms of
attire. Some were dressed more professionally than others. Milkman, publican,
solicitor, farmer, teacher, tradesman and so on. But it was Martha, in her
flannel valentine pajamas, matching fluffy red robe and Garfield house shoes,
tending to her overgrown garden with a cup of coffee in her hand that brought a
smile to the occasional passerby's face.

“You want some breakfast, Martha?”
Helen called out the kitchen window.

Martha called back happily. “I
’
m
starving. Look in the refrigerator. You
’
ll find all sorts
of bacon, sausages, potatoes and eggs. I
’
m coming in to
help.”

She watched a wide beam canal boat glide quietly along the
canal as the mist rose over the water creating a mystical feeling. The boat had
a little chimney stack puffing out clouds of smoke hinting at a warm, cozy
interior cabin. The man guiding it tipped his hat to Martha and smiled. She in
turn gave him a bright wave and thought about what he would see today and how
by tonight he would have his boat moored in a new village or maybe out in the
lovely English countryside. She let her heart fill with absolute pleasure as
she thought about how much she loved her home.

Amos barked at her from the doorstep which meant she should
come inside and give the pint-sized dog a bit of bacon. The aroma filled the
air with the best breakfast smell in the world and Amos was terribly insistent
to receive her fair share any time bacon was cooked in the house. Kate, Martha
’
s daughter, spoiled Amos rotten, treating her from Kate
’
s own plate with any goody she might savor.

“
Oh, hi handsome,
”
Martha said to
Piers as she came into the kitchen. “Hope you slept comfortably last night.”

Helen rolled her eyes at Martha’s impersonation of Mae West.

“Slept like a baby.”
Piers rubbed Amos between her ears. “Didn
’
t have a
nurse poking me or waking me up to take my vitals. Could have done without that
dog of yours jumping on me at three o
’
clock in the morning
though.”

Martha buttered the toast to put in the oven. “She wanted
you to take her outside. Should we put sugar and cinnamon on these?”
She dug in the
cabinet and found the cinnamon and handed it to Helen then picked up a piece of
bacon and chewed on it.

“I took her out and she sniffed at every bush while my bare
feet were freezing.”

Helen brought the cinnamon to the table and plunked it down
on the table indicating Martha could do the toast. “Yes. I haven
’
t
had cinnamon toast since I was a child in Arkansas. I’ll let you do the honors.”
She playfully poked
at Martha’s shoulder to get her to start working.

“Are you both Southerners?”
Piers asked.

The girls looked at each other and laughed.

“Why, Piers, darling, you should come over for my red beans
and rice some evening. It's a slice of home-made heaven,”
Martha said in a
long, drawn-out, southern accent.

He chuckled and asked Helen, “What about you Mrs. Ryes? Are
you going to offer me a truly southern meal sometime?”

Helen put a heaping plate of bacon, toast, eggs and grits in
front of him. The flirtatious grin he gave her made her toes wiggle. In return
she gave him a sweet smile and said in her best Scarlet O
’
Hara
voice, “Why Mr. Cousins, I just did. When was the last time you had real grits
like that?”

“Is that what they
’
re called?”
He took a bite. “Those
are incredible. I want Mrs. Thyme to learn to make these.”
He mixed the eggs
together with the grits.

Helen put a plate down in front of Martha who happily picked
up the toast and began pulling off the crust.

“That dog of yours, Martha, is the best dog ever,”
Helen said while
she turned more bacon in the skillet. “She barks at every person who even gets
within twenty feet of this house.”

To underscore her affection for the great protector of
hearth and home, she gave Amos an entire piece of bacon.

Amos looked as thunderstruck as a dog can at the enormity of
the woman
’
s recognition. But not taking any chances on the
whims of humans, she clamped down on the slice of bacon which was almost as
long as she was and hustled out of the room to parts unknown.

“Great, now she
’
ll wake one of us up in
the middle of the night to reheat it. Spoiled dog.”
Martha laughed.

“Not me. I
’
m going home. I miss the old
heap and want to see what damage has been done since I
’
ve
been incapacitated,”
Piers said.
“What are you doing today?”

His question made Martha realize she hadn
’
t
been to work for two days. Her immediate reaction was panic and she blurted
out, “Helen, I probably don
’
t have a job anymore. I haven
’
t been to work in days. I haven
’
t even
called in today.”

She looked down at her plate and continued, “It
’
s funny, though, how I still have my appetite. Darn thing never
goes away.”

Helen and Piers watched Martha swirl her scrambled eggs
around on her plate.

Impulsively, Martha said, “What if I come to work for you,
Helen? I excel at research and I bet you could train me to be an excellent
assistant. Normally, I’m very conscientious.”

Helen laid down her spatula and gave her a penetrating look.
“Would you, Martha? I would love it if you would come to work with me. Don
’
t say that to be smart. We would make a great team.”

Martha flushed pink and for a moment was completely without
words. She had spoken without thinking. Helen
’
s warmth,
true joy at having her for a work mate, and the fact they shared a common
heritage, made Martha start to tear up.

“I
’
ll do it if you
’
ll
have me,”
Martha
said starting to cry. “Helen, if you are serious, I would love to try something
new. Thank you.”
She
got up and gave Helen a big hug.

They took stock of each other. One in a strange-looking red
robe and the other in pajamas with ice-cream cones all over them (an old pair
of Kate
’
s), they laughed through their happy tears.

“
Good.
”
Piers dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Now that you
are both settled, I have a job for you. I need my entire library gone over and
when you girls can fit me in, I would be glad to have your expert opinions on
my collection.”

Once Helen and Martha were done doing their happy hopping
and hugging each other, they gave Piers a big kiss on both his cheeks which
made the Englishman blush. He wasn
’
t exactly accustomed to
high emotional American female outbursts.

“May we come by this afternoon, Mr. Cousins, to do a small
assessment of your collection?”
Helen asked in a put-on professional tone.

“Delighted to have you. How about three, tea time?”
Piers said in his
best Etonian accent.

“We
’
ll be there,”
Martha and Helen
said in perfect unison.

Chapter 33

CHIEF JOHNS WAS ON HIS way to Oxton to visit with Devry
’
s stepmother. The events of the previous evening kept nagging
at him. He could not unravel why anyone living along last night
’
s
road would be remotely interested in an old manuscript. Most people living in
the area wouldn
’
t cross the road to visit the library let
alone crawl into the police station to steal a book.

The surveillance videos from the police station last night
showed a few prowlers around the place. Two teenagers on bikes using the back
lot to access the bike path, someone stumbling around in the bushes, probably a
drunk looking for a place to relieve himself, and Sam making a break for it
down the bike path. Nothing unexpected. So, it meant that someone must have
followed their police vehicle, waited until they were inside and put the
manuscript in the car.

He thought on it for a while but finally gave it up. No
harm, no foul. One thing he could check off his list. The trip to Oxton would
take at least an hour with traffic. He had plenty of time to focus on the
Carstons case in his mind.

The report had come back on Devry
’
s
death. Johns wouldn
’
t release the information to the
public yet. He would first talk with Devry
’
s stepmother
but it was obvious Devry had been killed and someone wanted it to look like a
suicide.

There were too many factors pointing to it being a murder.
His mobile phone calendar showed he had a vacation planned for Majorca in only
two weeks. Depressed people don
’
t usually kill themselves
before going to an exotic locale.

The alarm on Devry
’
s mobile had been
set for eleven a.m. which meant he intended to be at the station to meet Johns
regarding the manuscript. People who commit suicide don
’
t
set alarms for later in their day and then hit the booze and Klonopin.

But the best reason for Devry not killing himself came from the
hard evidence. Most of the medicine he had swallowed was in his stomach but two
pills were found still in his mouth. People who want to kill themselves swallow
all their pills.

The medicine Devry had swallowed would have taken time to
stop his respiration, plenty of time for him to swallow every pill. The autopsy
found Scotch in his mouth and his stomach. Someone had shoved those pills into
his mouth and followed it with Scotch. But, because Devry was asleep when it
was administered, he hadn
’
t swallowed everything.

No glass by his bed. No glass in the sink either. Someone
had washed the glass to get rid of their fingerprints. This meant the murderer
hadn
’
t visited expecting to kill Devry and maybe couldn
’
t pass up the golden opportunity when it was presented. Someone
wanted it to look like a suicide.

The pills found in Devry
’
s stomach and
mouth were for anxiety. Devry
’
s doctor had weighed in on
the death as well. According to the doctor, Devry had been suffering from
severe anxiety attacks in the last three months. New job, new country, but
mostly because of something weighing on his mind that he wouldn
’
t
discuss with the doctor.

Whoever killed Devry had found an opportune moment and made
the most of it. There hadn
’
t been a struggle and no prints
were found anywhere. Devry looked as peaceful as a baby when he saw him. No
suffering, no pain, either mental or physical. Only peace.

Were the two murders connected? Why would Carstons’
killer want Devry
dead, too? And Johns couldn
’
t forget the attempt on
Cousins life. The three men had two things in common. One was The Grange and
the other was a woman. Money, jealousy, and power: three reasons to kill.

Cousins definitely wanted Sir Carstons out of the way
because of the trouble he was causing at The Grange. However, he also wanted custody
of his love child with Carstons
’
wife.

Piers Cousins was still alive. He might have had them both
killed. He had rock solid alibis for both murders. He could have had someone
make a fake attempt on his life to throw the police off his trail.

Carstons, Cousins and Devry shared the love of a woman or
maybe they loved her but she didn
’
t return the feeling.
What about this Emilia? Did she have many lovers?

Also, there was the card with Cousins
’
name that
was found on the rock door stop used to kill Carstons. If Cousins had Sir
Carstons killed, he wouldn
’
t have let his name be
literally on the murder weapon.

Johns
’
musings came to an abrupt end as he
entered the outskirts of Oxton. He easily found the address of Devry
’
s stepmother. She lived in a small retirement housing village.

The name on her house read “
Rose Bungalow
”
and with a look
around to the other small domiciles, he realized each was named after an
English flower. He rang the doorbell.

It took some time but finally a small white-haired woman came
to the door and without taking the chain from the latch asked feebly, “Yes?”

“Mrs. Devry, I am Chief Inspector Johns from the
Marsden-Lacey Police Department.”
He showed her his badge. “May I have a moment of your time?”

The diminutive woman gave him a hard look. “One moment,
please. I will go get my daughter.”

She shut the door completely. He grimaced. You never knew at
this point if you would have to ring again.

Soon a middle-aged, pleasant-looking woman with light brown
hair opened the door. “How may we help you?”

Again, Johns showed his badge and she gave it a cursory
glance.

“I am Chief Inspector Johns with the Marsden-Lacey CID. May
I come in and talk with you and your mother? It
’
s
regarding her stepson, Louis Devry.”

“Yes, of course. Please come in. My name is Isabelle Benton.
Mum will be in the back of the house. It has a nice sunny room she likes to sit
in during the day.”

Isabelle Benton showed Johns to where her mother was
sitting. The elderly lady motioned for him to join her and said, “Dear, would
you please bring us some coffee? You would like something warm to drink,
Inspector? I think fall is in the air. A bit chilly.”

“Yes, Ma
’
am. That would be nice.”

“I
’
ll be right back, Mum.”

Once the younger woman left the room, Mrs. Devry, wrapped in
a fuzzy shawl, looked up and gave Johns a shy smile. “
I don
’
t have many visitors from where my son lives. Why have you come
such a long way today, Inspector?”

There, briefly, a tiny muscle spasm at the corner of her eye
told him she sensed something was wrong with his visit. She pulled the shawl
tighter around her shoulders trying to ward off the creeping coldness he
brought into the room.

Isabelle returned and sat down by her mother. She gave Johns
a concerned look. “Why have you come here, Chief Inspector?”

There wasn
’
t an easy way to say it.
With a grimace, he jumped in. “I am sorry to be the one to bring this news to
you…”

Mrs. Devry held up her small, white hand to stop him. She
turned her head to the window and Johns could see the tremors begin in her
frail, bird-like body.

“Oh, Mother,”
the younger woman said reaching out to take the still upheld hand into
her own. She gave Johns a pleading, unsure look. “It
’
s
okay, Mum,”
she
said, trying to reassure them both.

This was the absolute worst part of Johns
’
job. He
told them of Louis
’
death and then he sat with them for at least thirty minutes with his
elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped waiting for them to be ready
for the rest of his story.

At one point the water began to boil so he went into the
kitchen, made tea and brought it out to them. Johns poured them each a cup and
handed tissues as needed.

“How did he die?”
Isabelle asked finally.

Johns
’
eyes flitted from one woman
’
s face to the other. Not sure how much he should attempt
considering the elderly lady
’
s health, he said, “To be
fair to you both, it
’
s still a matter of investigation. He
passed away yesterday around midday.”

“Isabelle. I had just been there.”
Mrs. Devry said. “Oh, my God, Isa, I
had just been there. Oh, dear, dear Louis.”

The tiny woman began to cry again and tried to lift herself
from her chair. Her daughter, with a look of concern quickly escalating to fear
due to her mother
’
s reaction, helped Mrs. Devry out of her
chair. She looked at Johns like he was a murderer.

“Help me get her to her room, please. She should lie down.”

Johns practically carried Mrs. Devry to her bedroom and
while her daughter was quieting her down, he sat in the cheery sunroom and
drank his tea. Soon Isabelle returned and sat on the sofa looking pale and
tired.

She stared out the window. “Louis was fine when mum left
yesterday. He was looking forward to his upcoming trip to Majorca. How did he
die so suddenly? Was it a heart attack?”

“
Ms. Benton, it
’
s
too premature for us to know exactly how your brother died. I wanted to come
today to tell your mother and to ask her a few questions.”

He hurried on before she could state the obvious. “Was your
mother
’
s visit purely for pleasure? He had mentioned that
she had been ill and he came to stay with her last week.”

“Well, yes, and no. A friend of my mother
’
s
from church was going to Marsden-Lacey and invited mother. Mother was feeling
stronger and wanted to surprise Louis.”

“
Ms. Benton,
”
he began.

“It
’
s Mrs. Benton. So you know.”
She smiled weakly.

“Mrs. Benton, had your brother been depressed or anxious
about anything in the last couple of months?”

She hesitated. Johns waited.

“
Louis
was distracted but we knew he
was under a great deal of pressure to succeed at this new post. You see, Louis
lost his last job at Harvard for some type of indiscretion. He wouldn
’
t talk about it. Piers wanted him for the position at The
Grange in Marsden-Lacey and mother was so happy to have him back here.”

“Do you know anything at all about the indiscretion?”

“We hoped it was to do with a woman.”
Another weak smile. “He was so
close-mouthed about it. Wouldn
’
t tell us a thing.”

“Why did you hope it was to do with a woman?”

“Louis was the sweetest man alive. He never got over that
silly woman, Emilia. You know they had this great love affair when they were
younger but she up and ran off to Switzerland. He only saw her one other time
about six or seven years ago. She married a rich man so Louis gave up on it.
Went back to his job in America.”

“Went back to his job? What do you mean?”

Again, she held something back and told him the glossy
version. “Yes, he went back to his job at Harvard. He came here for a visit and
saw Emilia. She was living here then and it must have been at that time she
told him she was married. He never got over her.”

“Did you know she died?”

“Yes, mother told me. We were both relieved he was coming
home finally and wouldn
’
t have that constant heartache so
close by.”

Johns stood up to go. “When was the last time you saw your
brother?”

“He was here last week. Friday it was. Louis had received a
telephone call asking him to come see mother. When he got here, mother and I
were both surprised to see him. No one here had called him.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Benton. I may have other questions later.
You
’
ll be contacted today about the arrangements. Please
accept my sympathy.”

“Before you go, Chief Inspector, was Louis
’
death unnatural?”
she
asked him point blank.

“Yes, Mrs. Benton, I believe it was. We
’
re
treating it as a homicide and would appreciate your discretion until we have
more information.”

She bit her upper lip and stood up. “I
’
ll
be right back.”
She
motioned for him to wait.

A few minutes passed and she returned handing him a letter.
He saw it was from an attorney in Hartford, Connecticut. It stated that Emilia
Carstons had requested that, upon her death, Louis Devry should be informed
that they shared a child.

Johns looked dumbstruck. He said, “This is dated two weeks
ago. Emilia Carstons has been dead for years. Why all of a sudden did he
receive this letter?”

“Her will has been tied up for years and her family is all
dead. I know her husband had fought to regain rights to her inheritance but the
family in Connecticut hated him. They never wanted him to be able to touch her
money so the father cut her off when she married him. This would have made
Louis rich and a father.”

“What did your brother think about being a father?”

“Terrified. To be honest, I think he was numb to the idea.
He didn’t even respond to the attorney’s letter. He couldn
’
t
get his bearings because he was obsessed with Emilia. The boy would have to be
about six or seven years old now. The child would have been a sad reminder of
her.”

Johns tried to keep his face unemotional. He never allowed
himself to judge other people
’
s motives or actions. That
was for the courts. “May I keep this for a while, Mrs. Benton?”