A Killer Ball at Honeychurch Hall (29 page)

“On second thoughts, Officers. I'm very happy to accompany you to the station,” said Mum meekly. “Katherine, there is some homemade chicken soup on the Aga for Alfred.” She flashed a smile at Shawn. “It really helps with his migraines.”

“Do I need to remind you that perverting the course of justice is a criminal offense?” said Shawn sternly.

“You do not need to remind me,” Mum declared. “But surely, you should be out catching Bryan's killer instead of wasting your time over a robbery.”

“We think the two crimes are connected,” said Roxy.

“But—that's ridiculous!” Mum exclaimed.

“Yep. And Pandora Haslam-Grimley, too,” Roxy said. “And believe me, this time it's not going to get swept under the carpet.”

“You're talking to the wrong person,” said Mum, nervous. “Joan Stark—she's the culprit.”

“We know all about Joan, thank you,” said Shawn. “Gran told me everything.”

And with that, he looked at my mother and simply said, “Shall we go?”

As Shawn's panda drove away with Mum in the back, I had an unnerving sense of déjà vu.

Mum had been arrested again—but this time, I had a horrible feeling that she was protecting Alfred. Not just from the Luxton's warehouse break-in, but from Pandora's death, too. Perhaps Edith's thank you letter had contained incriminating clues, after all.

But where did that leave Bryan?

If the Valentine's card in the camper van and the necklace left by the culvert were Joan's—was that proof enough that she killed him?

And then there was Ginny. On a whim, I called Totnes Hospital but I was told she was unable to accept any phone calls and there were no visitors until Wednesday.

Ginny's abduction seemed so strange. Was it really an attempt to end her life or just a warning? Did Ginny really have inside information on decades of Honeychurch scandals? What could she possibly know that would drive someone to do such a thing?

Back in the kitchen I fixed myself a large gin and tonic.

Mum's story—
The American Heiress
—was on the top of the counter. I picked it up and took another look. Now that I knew that Mum had attempted the Derbyshire dialect from
Lady Chatterley's Lover,
it was easier to understand—especially if I read the words aloud.

It was very simply written and taken from the perspective of a young servant girl at the Hall. At first, I assumed that since Edith was Lady Honeychurch and she had had an affair with the gamekeeper, the story must be about her. After all, that had been the basis for
Forbidden,
the second in my mother's hugely successful Star-Crossed Lovers series. But when I looked more closely, it was obvious that this was about Pandora. It was written as part-diary, part-fantasy and mixed up with passages Mum had copied from
Lady Chatterley's Lover.

Then, I managed to decipher the most interesting bit. Pandora—who was called Pansy in this story, struck a young servant girl called Jean with her riding whip. To add insult to injury, Pansy had brazenly flirted with Jean's beau. In despair, Jean sought help from a traveling gypsy who predicted that Pansy would soon disappear. It didn't take a brain surgeon to realize that Jean had to be Joan.

The phone rang. Eagerly, I snatched it up hoping it was Mum but it was David. The minute he recognized my voice he said, “Don't hang up, Kat.”

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to let you know that the Hollar paintings are officially on the Art and Antiques Unit watch list. I didn't want this to happen. I was hoping you could have told me what was going on…”

“Honestly, David,” I said. “I have no idea what is going on. Just do what you have to do.”

“You're making a mistake—”

But I had already put the phone down. I made a silent plea to Alfred, to please get rid of those stupid paintings, but the phone rang again.

“Please don't call me anymore,” I said.

“Oh, Iris!”

“Mrs. Cropper?”

“It is you, isn't it?” she said urgently. “You must come quickly.”

“It's Kat, Mrs. Cropper,” I said. “Are you alright? Whatever is wrong?”

“It's her ladyship.” There was a pause as Mrs. Cropper struggled to compose her distress. “She's fallen.”

“Is she hurt?” I said.

“Cropper is calling for an ambulance,” said Mrs. Cropper. “His lordship and Lady Lavinia are with her now but she specifically asked for you.”

“Mum's not here—”

“Iris, come to the King's Parlor,” Mrs. Cropper urged. “Through the Tudor courtyard. You know the way.”

And with that, Mrs. Cropper disconnected the line.

I scribbled a quick note to Mum and left it on the kitchen table. I couldn't imagine her being stuck at Newton Abbot all night, but Newton Abbot was not the little satellite police station where everyone goes home at five.

It was only as I dragged on my coat and raced to the Hall that I realized in all Mrs. Cropper's panic, she had called me Iris.

 

Chapter Thirty-one

I took Mum's MINI and left it parked behind the servants' quarters. Grabbing an umbrella, I hurried around the side of the building.

I didn't think twice about the side door to the Tudor wing being open but when I reached the Great Hall and found it deserted, I felt a prickle of unease.

The door to the King's Parlor stood ajar but I couldn't hear any voices.

Don't be ridiculous, Kat, I told myself. Although the short trip from the Carriage House to the Great Hall couldn't have been more than five minutes, maybe they hadn't waited for an ambulance and just taken Edith straight to the hospital.

“Mrs. Cropper?” I called out. “Are you there?”

There was no reply. I took out my phone and was about to dial the Hall when my heart skipped a beat.

A figure in a yellow sou'wester cape stepped out of the shadows. She was holding a twelve-bore shotgun.

I was startled by how much Joan looked like her daughter Vera. The same pinched face; the same mean look.

Joan was just a few years older than my mother but the years had not been kind to her. She was rail thin and with her long white hair hanging loose to her shoulders and a wild look in her eyes, she looked insane. I knew I had to keep calm.

I threw my hands up in surrender. “Please don't hurt me!” It wasn't difficult to pretend to be terrified. I was.

“You're not Iris.” For a moment, Joan looked confused. “Who are you?”

“I'm Kat Stanford,” I said, desperately trying to steady my nerves. “I'm on TV.” I had no idea why that thought came into my head. “You've probably seen me there.”

“On the telly?”

“That's right,” I said. “I used to have an antiques show called
Fakes and Treasures.
Have you ever seen it?”

Joan thought for a moment. “You're Rapunzel.”

“That's right.” I gestured to my unruly hair. “You wouldn't think it, would you?”

Joan continued to stare at me. She didn't lower the shotgun. “Where is Iris?”

“Iris? I don't know an Iris.” I gave what I hoped was a friendly smile. “Actually, I was looking for Mrs. Cropper. Is she here?”

No answer.

“She's your friend, isn't she?” I said.

“Peggy's no friend of mine,” said Joan coldly. “She's been spreading lies.”

“I've not lived in Little Dipperton for very long so I wouldn't know.”

“Peggy liked to pretend she was on my side,” Joan went on. “She took my own daughter away from me, you know. Poisoned her against me by spreading lies.”

“That's terrible.”

“I never got a chance to say good-bye to my Vera!” Joan gripped the shotgun even tighter. “She died. My daughter died.”

“That's awful, I am so sorry.”

“Where's Iris?” Joan asked again.

“I don't know an Iris,” I said again.

“She was with the travelers,” said Joan. “Flaunting herself in front of my Bryan every summer. Poisoning him against me.”

Bryan. Joan had actually said his name.

“What did this Iris do?” I asked but I could tell that Joan was lost in her own world.

“Madame Z's Psychic Touch. What a load of rubbish.”

I had to find some common ground.

“I went to a fortune teller once.” Actually, I had never been to one. “I was in love with a man and she promised that we would be together forever but he went back to his wife. Was your man married?”

Joan nodded.

“How many times?”

“Five. He told me he didn't know why he married them and that I would always have a special place in his heart.”

I'd heard that tired old line myself from David.

“My old boyfriend even told me to keep hold of my earrings because they were a gift,” I said suddenly. “But I didn't want them! I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Do you know what I mean?”

Joan nodded vehemently. “Yes. Yes. I know. I didn't want anything from Bryan. And then he had the nerve to say,
‘Five times married. Five times a fool,'
but it was me who was the fool.”

“I know that feeling, too, Joan,” I said gently. “Are you talking about Bryan Laney?”

“You know I am.” Joan's expression was ugly. “I know you've been with him, I know you have! He could never resist a young girl.” I hardly thought at nearly forty that qualified me as “young,” but Joan wasn't listening. “You're one of Bryan's tarts. Admit it! You are! You were at Jane's Cottage with him—I saw you. Sneaking around.”

“Bryan was going to help me hang some mirrors,” I said calmly. “It turned out that he couldn't even lift a hammer.”

The fact that Joan truly believed me capable of having a tryst with a man who had to be thirty years my senior just confirmed that she was as mad as a hatter.

“Did he give
you
a necklace?” Joan said harshly. “Like he gave all the others? Did he ask
you
to wait for him, too?”

“No. He never asked me that. I think he came to Honeychurch to look for the Honeychurch mint.”

Joan sneered. “Of course he did. I knew he'd come back. The moment the double-hide was discovered. I just knew it.”

“You seem very confident.” I was slowly edging my way to the door. If no one was coming, I was going to make a run for it—gun or no gun. “How did you find out?”

“Facebook,” said Joan. “Plymouth Treasure Hunters page. His
wife
posted it.”

“Ah, Facebook,” I said.

“But the last laugh is on me,” said Joan triumphantly. “Him and his stupid treasure hunting. He only wanted me because I know where it is.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “You really do?”

“Of course I know where it is,” said Joan. “Bryan liked to say it was his ancestor who hid the stuff but it wasn't. It was mine!”

“But … but where is it?”

“Gone,” she declared. “And that's what I told him. It's gone.”

“Gone where? You mean someone got to it first? In the double-hide?”

Joan laughed. “It's down the warren well. That's where it is.”

Harry had told me all about the warren well. “At Jane's Cottage? I've never seen a well.”

“Because it's gone,” said Joan gleefully. “Vanished. Disappeared.”

“Is that what you told Bryan?”

“He didn't believe me. He was angry—said I'd led him on for years. Imagine! Me! Leading him on!”

“What about the double-hide?” I said. “The tools were found there. I saw them.”

“I knew there was a double-hide,” said Joan. “My granddad told me but it was Rupert who showed me how to open it.”

“The earl?” I said. “You mean Lady Edith's brother?”

“That's right.”

“I bet that made Bryan jealous!”

“It did,” she said proudly. “But then her ladyship got the wrong end of the stick. Got all upset and threw me out.”

“And what about Pandora?” I said.

All the color drained from Joan's face. “It was an accident,” she said. “I just wanted to scare her. It was Madame Z's idea. ‘You can make her disappear,' that's what she said.”

I felt sick. “What do you mean?”

Joan's expression hardened. “Pandora toyed with my Bryan. Thought she could have any man she wanted.”

“And that's when you went to see Madame Z?”

Joan nodded. “She told me to teach Pandora a lesson. Give her a fright. So I did.”

“What happened?”

“It was her ladyship's birthday ball,” said Joan. “There was already an upset because Pandora was wearing the Cleopatra outfit that was meant for Edith.” Joan grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “Iris made it. She was livid!”

“What did you do?”

“They were playing that game—Smee, you know, squashed sardines,” Joan went on.

“That's hide-and-seek in reverse, isn't it?” I said playing for time. “What are the rules?”

“One person hides and then everyone else searches for the hidden person,” she explained. “Whenever someone finds the hidden person, they hide with them in the same place and the hidden group gets bigger and bigger.”

“And very cozy,” I said. “You need a big house for a game like that. The Hall must have been perfect.”

“It was.” Joan seemed smug. “Pandora ordered me to show her somewhere really special. So I did.”

“Did you know that there was a second hide behind the first?” I asked.

“Yes. Pandora liked that. She liked it a lot.” Joan flashed a smile. “So I left her there.”

“Did you realize that she couldn't get out?”

Joan didn't answer. “And then Bryan and Iris had a fight and he said,
‘Let's get away for a dirty weekend,'
and so we did.”