Two Birds with One Stone (A Marsden-Lacey Cozy Mystery Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter 9

Marsden-Lacey, England

Present Day

MARY REVIVED FAST. YOUTH ALWAYS does Martha thought. They
called Constable Cross to the door and asked if he could please take their
statements soon. He was a nice-looking, dark-haired young man and with one look
at Mary
’
s pretty but ashen face, he agreed to start.

After all three women finished their statements and Mary had
permission from Piers Cousins, The Grange
’
s Board
President, to lock up early, Helen and Martha offered to walk Mary back to her
flat but Constable Cross had already offered to drive the doe-eyed girl home.

Both women smiled understandingly at the two young people.
The car pulled out of the car park leaving them standing alone together in the
small entrance garden. The sun was setting over the Yorkshire countryside
bringing that exquisite mixture of drowsiness and peacefulness to the summer
landscape.

“How bout that drink?”
Martha offered.

“Let
’
s go. I know a great place,”
Helen said.

“Um, let
’
s not go to The Kings Way, the
place you
’
re staying. I
’
m sorry, but
that place is a dive. It doesn
’
t really fit your style, if
you don
’
t mind me saying so,”
Martha said.

“You can say so. It is a dive but there were so many
tourists this time of year, I couldn
’
t find anywhere else.
I
’
ve got to be here for at least three more days, so it
has to be The Kings Way or nothing.”

The two tired women made their way down the hill into the
charming village of Marsden-Lacey. At the peak of the tourist season,
Marsden-Lacey attracted a variety of holiday-makers. Families, hikers, and
motorcyclists all came to enjoy the Yorkshire Dales National Park while others
such as the boaters meandered in their motor crafts of choice through the
canal.

It was a village of 12,000 souls during the off-season but
in the later part of July, it swelled to over 15,000 on the weekends. The girls
found their way down to one of the village’s favorite watering holes, The
Traveller’s Inn.

“Let
’
s go in here,”
Helen said.

They pushed though the door into the old fashioned but
highly-sought-out local pub. Dark beams, small windows with chintz curtains,
cozy booths and two working fireplaces made The Traveller
’
s
Inn the quintessential English hostelry. Tonight there was a dart tournament
going on so every so often there was an explosion of merry making and shouting
from the back of the pub where the dart boards hung in a row.

Martha picked out a cushioned bench with a table near an
open window overlooking the back garden. The air coming in smelled fresh with
the scent from the
lavender
bushes planted below the
window. They sat down with sighs and ordered two glasses of the house wine from
the waitress.

“What a day,”
Martha said more to herself than to Helen.

“I guess so. You
’
ve been through it.
Mugged in the market and a witness to a possible murder at The Grange.”

Martha chuckled. “I must have brought some kind of weird
mojo along with me when I entered The Grange. What do you suppose the whole
thing was about?”

“Well, if you want my guess, I
’
d say it
has something to do with what Mary said about the board and Sir Carstons being
into it.”

Martha looked thoughtful. “Had you ever met Sir Carstons or
heard about him when they asked you to assess the collection?”

“No. I
’
ve only talked with Louis Devry,
the curator, who seems stuffy but nice. Why does your firm need a statement
from him?”
Helen
asked.

“I think it
’
s going to make the news
tomorrow anyway, so I might as well tell you. Sir Carstons is in the process of
suing The Grange
’
s governing board. The board basically
was a group of private individuals who entered into a financial arrangement
with Sir Carstons to purchase The Grange based on a valuation that was compiled
by an outside company. Sir Carstons is claiming the valuation was mismanaged
because the firm that produced it turned out to be owned by a board member
’
s nephew.”

“Oh, boy. Messy, and I
’
m beginning to
see why Louis Devry has been so insistent about the collection being assessed
quickly,”
Helen
said.

They sat quietly for a few seconds. An attractive man
threaded his way through the customers and approached their table.

“Mrs. Littleword and Mrs. Ryes?”
he asked once he reached their table. “I
’
m Piers Cousins, The Grange
’
s board
president. May I sit down with you for a moment?”

Helen and Martha exchanged glances.

“Of course, Mr. Cousins, have a seat.”
Martha motioned for
him to sit.

Piers Cousins stood close to six feet tall with a slim,
athletic build. He was near fifty years old but his dark hair was only slightly
greying at the temples. He had deep blue eyes.

With a quick glance to his left hand, Helen noted he wasn
’
t wearing a wedding ring. There were other signs of his single
state such as he wasn
’
t wearing clothes wives typically
picked for their husbands. The lack of tassels on his shoes was a clear
indicator of no wife. He pulled up a chair from another table and sat down
between the two women.

“I
’
m so sorry about what you both have
been through today. It must have been a terrible shock,”
Cousins said in his lovely,
aristocratic accent. “I
’
ve been over to check on The
Grange and something is troubling me.”

“Assaults are often troubling,”
Martha said impertinently.

Cousins, checked for an instant by Martha’s sarcasm, gave
her an amused look.

Helen took up the thread of the momentarily derailed
conversation and asked with a touch more concern than sounded natural, “What is
troubling you?”

The girls exchanged somewhat annoyed looks.

“I walked through the entire building because I wanted to
make certain nothing was amiss but also to be certain no one had hidden
themselves inside. We do this every night because it
’
s a
public building and we worry about theft and vandalism,”
Cousins said.

While he was talking, Helen saw how well his hands were
formed. Long fingers, bony but strong with nice nails told her he wasn
’
t a fussy type but probably liked to work outside. The rest of
his clothes said money but weren
’
t pretentious in any way.
As she studied him surreptitiously, she realized how nervous he was.

“Mr. Cousins, I can assure you the police and Mary did an
excellent job of going over the entire property before we left,”
she said.

“I
’
m sure they did, but I thought that
whilst you were going through the rooms you might have noticed something?”

“Like what?”

He hesitated then said, “The upstairs rooms look like a
scuffle must have taken place. Fragile books displayed on top of counters
inside glass cases were askew. I wondered if you might have heard anything or
seen anyone?”

“No. Just a man bashed over the head lying in a pool of blood,”
Martha said with an
impish smile.

Cousins, this time, gave her a slightly confused look.
Martha shrugged.

“
Oh. Mrs. Littleword, I
’
m
being completely thoughtless,”
he said with a slight blush. “It
’
s that I
’
m confused by this whole affair and wondered if you might have
seen something. Especially you, Mrs. Ryes, with your detailed eye, might have
noted an oddity or something misplaced.”
He turned towards the more empathetic one, Helen.

“Mr. Cousins, we understand this has been an upsetting
experience for everyone,”
Helen said soothingly. She patted his hand lightly and shot a stern look
towards Martha who rolled her eyes in response. “We
’
ve
been through so much excitement today. Everyone
’
s nerves
are on edge.”

“I apologize again, ladies. Let me make this up to you,”
he said penitently
while casting an unsure look at Martha. “Tomorrow, The Grange Society will be
having their annual fundraiser at my home, Healy House. It
’
s
a tennis tournament which we
’
re proud to say is in its
twelfth year. The matches start at nine a.m. and you are welcome to come as my
guests. Please stay on afterward and have dinner, too, around seven. It
’
s a casual affair and if you enjoy tennis, you will see some of
the best players we English can boast of.”
The last bit was said with the true tennis enthusiast
’
s excitement.

Helen and Martha said they would like to attend and
exchanged phone numbers with Piers. As he left The Traveller
’
s
Inn, both women watched his retreating figure until it was lost among the
throng of happy patrons.

“Why were you being so snippy with him?”
Helen, slightly
annoyed, turned to Martha.

“I just wanted to see what he would do. He might be the
killer, Helen.”

Helen stiffened.

Martha continued in a mock high-society voice. “Besides, we’ve
been invited to the castle, my dear. Count your blessings. Sounds like we are
going to have a lovely time.”

Martha started laughing at her own silliness which infected
Helen, too. Holding up her glass for Helen to toast along with her, Martha
said, “To Healy House we go!”

As they clanked the glasses together, they couldn’t help a
giggle or two.

Chapter 10

THE NEXT DAY WAS SATURDAY and Helen woke up to yelling and
pots banging in the kitchen below her room. She winced and pulled the blankets
over her head, wishing she could find anywhere, absolutely anywhere else to
stay. She couldn
’
t wait to be done with the job at The
Grange. The hotel was a mess, her life was even messier, and now she was a
witness (maybe even a suspect) in an attempted murder investigation.

There had been one highlight to the whole affair. Well,
maybe two, once she thought about it. She had enjoyed meeting Martha. Martha
was definitely a quirky person but fun and not a push-over. And the other nice
highlight was Piers Cousins.

Since rotten old George, her ex-husband, had chosen to
regain his youth by running off with her assistant, Fiona, her only focus had
been on work. The last year had been about holding on to her half of the
business and trying to not spend every waking moment wondering how life could
go from wonderful one minute and then into the toilet in less than two months,
which was how long Fiona had been working for their business before George went
feral.

It was all in the past, but she had to make a decision about
his wedding. Why in the world had Fiona and George invited her to the wedding?
It wasn
’
t like George to rub salt in someone
’
s
wounds, but then if someone had asked her a year and a half ago if she thought
her loving George would pop off with a girl younger than their daughter, Helen
would have laughed. She and George were best friends or so she had thought.

With a heave and a flip of the blankets, Helen moved towards
the shower. Today was a fresh start. With a quick choice of a white cardigan,
pearls and a lavender, pleated, mid-length skirt, Helen breezed into the bath.
Feeling a lightness to her spirit she hadn’t felt in ages, she decided to look
her best for her visit to Healy House.

FLOWER POT COTTAGE WAS NICELY situated along Canal Street.
It had a happy location across from the Huddleston Narrow Canal with a nice
rock wall embankment and perfectly-manicured hedges protecting it from any
gawking hikers. There was no doubt in Martha
’
s mind that
it was worth every pound she had paid for it.

After Kate, her only child, moved out, the cottage felt
lonely. She and Gus, the cat, and Amos, the dog, wandered around the cottage
for at least a month searching for something that wasn
’
t
coming back.

In time, they took themselves in hand and started fresh
activities. Amos began a new project of watching “Dogs Who Work”
episodes and
barking at dogs on canal boats floating past the cottage. Meanwhile, Gus had
her neighbor’s pigeon coop under tight surveillance and Martha took
self-defense and karate classes at the Village Community Centre.

A clanking sound told Martha that a fresh group of narrow
boats were readying themselves to lower the water in the section of the canal
outside her cottage. She had lain in bed long enough this morning and she
gently lifted herself from between the cat and dog so she didn
’
t
disturb their comfort. Tugging furiously on her nightgown which had somehow
entangled itself in the sheets, she finally extricated herself from her pack
’
s nest.

Sleep had come late and had not been extremely beneficial.
If anything, her sleep had been downright fitful and agitated. Mr. Cuthbirt,
her boss, would be a sourpuss over Devry’s statement not being taken and her
work load had become so intense in the last six months that she already wasn
’
t sleeping well lately.

The bright spot in the day would be the fundraiser at Healy
House. What a treat. Tennis and food and of course mixing with the posh tennis
people would be so much fun. Whatever she wore today, it had to be light and
pretty. As she dug through the closet, she found a summery dress with a crimson
floral pattern throughout.

Gus and Amos blinked sleepily from the bed while watching
Martha fling things and rifle through drawers. Finally, she laid the chosen
outfit on the bed and hurried into the bath.

Amos watched the bathroom door close and got up and
stretched her gimpy hind legs and yawned. She then ceremoniously circled three
times and plopped back down on top of Martha
’
s lovely
white and crimson dress, falling happily asleep.