Authors: Marni Graff
Simon checked the herb patch near the door. “Agnes won’t be happy if her favorite rosemary bush bites the dust.” Mud strangled the lower branches of the large plant.
“Those things are stronger than you’d think. We can flush the mud off.” Burt drained his can. “Thanks for that.”
Simon had his head down, inspecting the bush, when Burt’s change in tone alerted him.
“Simon, look—”
Simon thought Burt saw the police van making its way up the road. Instead, Burt pointed up the fell, where light gleamed in a few houses. There was a sharp
thunk
, and then the microwave started beeping as lights came on all over Ramsey Lodge.
*
4:10 PM
Nora’s eyes popped open when the lights came on. She jumped up to check on Sean and was surprised to see Declan rise from the other side of the bed. Once the interviews were over, she’d felt exhausted and crept into bed. Declan must have lain down after she’d fallen asleep.
Sean slept on. She turned out the light in his alcove. The heat would build up soon, and she could bathe him tonight. But how should she act with Declan? She knew she’d disappointed him, but she had her reasons, although she had to admit that sometimes she didn’t stop to think things through.
Declan yawned and slapped his leg. “Lights, finally.”
“And all that brings—heat, hot showers and clean hair.” She didn’t say “and shaved legs” aloud. Normalcy then. After all, couples disagreed at times.
“I’m going to brush my teeth.”
“I’m right behind you. And then I know what I’m going to do before Sean wakes.”
Declan drew her into an embrace as he passed her. He bent down and nuzzled her neck. “What’s that?”
“Start to transcribe those interviews.”
“Good idea.” Declan made as if to slap her rump, but she scooted out of the way, and he shut the bathroom door.
Nora turned on her laptop. The reassuring whirling soon led to Pages opening on her Mac. She clicked open her inbox; nothing that couldn’t wait, although she was surprised there wasn’t one from Val. She dashed off a quick note to her:
Lights back on at RL. Will be in touch tomorrow. Xoxo Nora
Opening her notebook, she started to transcribe the notes into her word processor. She realized she could whip right through since they were mostly negatives. Only Helen Mochrie had given them those unexplained footsteps.
“Your turn.” Declan left the bathroom door open.
Nora didn’t look up from her laptop. “Want to jump in the shower?”
“Is that an invitation?”
She turned around. Declan’s hair was mussed and his eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. She felt weak in her middle. Forgiven, then.
There was a soft knock on the door, followed by Simon’s voice. “Declan, pathologist’s here with the crime scene investigation team.”
Nora laughed. “I’ll take a rain check.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“At the first sign or trouble they run out on you—like rats leaving a sinking ship.”
Mrs. Bradman: Act
II
, Scene 3
4:45 PM
Declan stood in the doorway of the Shakespeare Suite, watching the pathologist conduct his examination. The duty police surgeon’s road remained flooded. Dr. Milo Foreman lived closer and had agreed to come in.
Simon had told Declan that Milo enjoyed cooking, and it didn’t take a detective to see he also liked eating his efforts. The man’s general demeanor was cheerful, even at a murder scene, and he’d insisted Declan call him by his first name. Declan studied him with interest. The pathologist whistled as he probed Gemma’s grey, mottled body, took her liver temperature and put plastic bags over each hand. He had an appalling but necessary job. Declan didn’t know if he could do it. He preferred to speak for the dead ones. His goal was to find out who had committed this unspeakable act against Gemma Hartwell.
Milo stood up from Gemma’s bedside, turned off his voice recorder and stripped the gloves from his meaty hands. The rotund man paused to jot notes into a tiny leather notebook and motioned to the crime scene investigator standing just inside the door.
“Your turn.” The tech had already videotaped the scene from the door and now moved into the room in his white suit to take a panorama of pictures of the body in the bed before settling down to gather evidence. “And don’t forget that pillow,” Milo added, taking off his paper suit and crumpling it with his gloves into the bag the CSI had set up at the door. “They want to be called a ‘CSI’ now, you know, not a SOCO. American television influence.”
Declan cleared his throat. “What can you tell me?”
“Based on the rigor and what you’ve told me about the time she was last seen, I’d say she died between midnight and
6 AM
.”
The timeframe was exactly what Declan already knew. “Anything else?” He knew medical examiners were notoriously slow about deciding on time of death and tried not to let his impatience show.
“Opening the windows to lower the room temperature was helpful, in terms of slowing the body’s disintegration. Can’t tell about drugs yet, of course. That takes longer than the bloody shows on television would have you believe, but I expect even in Oxford you’ve learned that.” The man raised bushy eyebrows and guided Declan away from the doorway. “Saw the petechiae you mentioned. We’ll give that pillow a thorough going over. Have to check the hyoid bone on postmortem for strangulation, but at first glance I’d agree it appears she was smothered while deeply asleep. No signs of fighting but bagged her hands just the same.”
“What about the other rooms? These people need somewhere to sleep tonight. I’ve kept them out of their rooms all day.”
“Higgins has more of the team arriving shortly with the mortuary van. We’ll get it sorted for them to sleep tucked up tidily in their beds tonight.” They halted at the head of the stairs. “Though I wonder how many of them will close their eyes knowing one of them is a murderer.”
Declan’s throat tightened. He might need to provoke a confrontation to bring this case to its resolution. But to do that he needed more information than he had right now. Where and how was he going to find that within this closed cast?
*
5:30 PM
Nora had finished the transcription when Sean woke for his dinner. She moved his high chair into the kitchen to avoid seeing the crime scene techs but heard them moving steadily throughout the rooms upstairs. She spooned up baby rice that Sean ate greedily.
Maeve and Simon bustled between stove and sink, rubbing the chickens with herbs and lavender, stuffing them with cut lemons. Simon put the chickens, carrots and potatoes in the oven to roast. Their wet hair showed they had both had showers, and Nora felt envious and incredibly dirty. Cold-water sponge bathing didn’t do the job.
“Never thought a simple shower could improve my mood so easily.” Maeve set a timer.
Nora cleaned off the baby’s mouth and wiped his hands and tray.
Simon looked up from putting biscuit mix into a bowl. “Plenty of time to bathe the baby before dinner, Nora. We’ll eat as usual after
7
.”
She didn’t need to be told twice and grabbed Sean from his high chair. Declan could bring it into the dining room later for her. Nora ran warm water in the tub and undressed the baby in a room that had warmed up. She tested the water temp before lowering Sean into it. He giggled and splashed while she washed him and his hair. She let him play for a few minutes in his bath seat, using a cup to pour warm water over his back to avoid a chill.
Declan tapped on the door and sat on the closed toilet. “Enjoys his bath, doesn’t he?”
Nora opened the drain and the baby watched the water swirl away, pointing and making gibberish noises.
“Give him to me.” Declan picked up the bath towel. Nora lifted the squiggling, wet baby out of his bath seat and into Declan’s firm grasp, wrapping him in the large towel. She played peek-a-boo a few times with the edge of the towel until Sean’s chuckles had them all laughing.
Nora sat back on her haunches, watching the large man swipe at the baby’s hair and rub him briskly. Who knew the sight of a large man and a little child—her child—could be so stirring? Nora’s heart lurched with emotion, and she stood up and enclosed the two of them in a quick hug.
“That is a very sexy picture, DI Barnes.” Nora drew back to search his eyes.
“Hold that thought.” He addressed the baby. “Let’s put your pyjamas on, young man, and let your mum take a quick shower.” Without waiting for a reply, Declan walked out with the baby, leaving Nora to shower on her own. She wondered if he’d ever put on a nappy. He’d figure it out.
The hot water felt luxurious to her, and she washed her lank hair twice. She shaved her legs, too, and sighed with delight when she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She rubbed her wet hair and dried off, then slipped into the bedroom to dress, the air cool on her damp skin.
“And this little piggy stayed home,” she heard from the alcove, with Sean’s responding giggle. Oh, to be a fly on the wall with a camera right now. Nora slid into clean jeans and a silky shirt and was looking for her favorite opal earrings when the two most important men in her life rounded the corner.
Declan held Sean out for inspection. “How did we do, Mum?” The baby’s hair was combed all wrong but he had a warm sleeper on and clutched his keys, reaching his flannel-clad arms out to her. Her throat constricted in a moment of pure joy: no sex, no promises of a future, just the man she was falling in love with
holding her perfect child in his arms, a happy smile on both their faces.
*
8:40 PM
Nora decided she couldn’t eat another bite and put her fork down. Nervous energy; she was surprised she’d had any appetite with her plan. Simon had closed the dining room doors at the start of dinner to avoid everyone seeing Gemma’s body carried out in a black bag. They slid open, and Declan rose to meet the sergeant from Kendal.
“If I could bother you for a moment.” Detective Sergeant Higgins introduced himself.
Nora watched all heads swivel to the detective.
“My team has finished with your rooms, and they are released for your use.” A murmur ran like a ripple around the long table. “I need to review your statements, kindly taken by DI Barnes.”
Nora walked across the room and handed Higgins a thumb drive. Nora knew him from the previous autumn and the Clarendon murders. She stood next to Grayson, out of the way.
“Thank you, Miss Tierney. These will be typed up officially, and you’ll be asked to sign them, probably tomorrow afternoon.” Declan whispered in Higgins’ ear. “Mr. Marsh? You’re allowed to return to your own home if you can safely navigate the road. But no one else is allowed to check out of Ramsey Lodge for the time being.”
Nora watched Grayson stir at this pronouncement. “No one would think of checking out, Sergeant. We have a play to put on.”
Stunned silence met the director’s statement.
“That’s up to you, sir. Goodnight.” Higgins left, and a buzz of talk rose in the room as soon as he disappeared.
“Grayson, this is carrying things too far.” Rupert’s indignation matched his high color. “We should cancel the play immediately.” His wife nodded her agreement.
Helen took on a lecturing tone. “Grayson, your behaviour is reprehensible. I did not rai—expect this level of apathy.” Tonight she’d left off a turban, and the short white curls hugging her head bobbled. “A cast member has been
murdered,
under your watch.”
Fiona shook her head. “You’re buggered, Gray, face it.”
“Grayson, really—where are your feelings for Gemma?” Lydia shook her head.
Fiona’s was the dry voice of reason. “I think you’re missing a cast member, Gray.”
Nora spoke up. “I’ll do it. I played Elvira in college. I know the part by heart.” Declan would not be happy with her; she couldn’t look at him.
Grayson roared with laughter. “See, we have our new Elvira right here!” He stood and threw his good arm around Nora’s shoulder. “Good girl, Nora, rescuing us all.”
Nora watched the others’ reactions. Trust them to go over the top. Some of their points were valid, but she had her own reasons for insinuating herself into their midst.
She met Declan’s blazing eyes and had the grace to blush. She knew he wouldn’t be happy with her impulsive offer, but being actively involved in the play would not only help Simon, it would let her go undercover to find the murderer.
Poppy looked ready to explode. “I would think you’d cast a known entity with real acting experience as your star, not some pathetic wannabe.”
Maeve found a sudden interest in the pattern of the tablecloth. Only Burt seemed amused by the situation.
“Really, Nora? You feel qualified to step into a professional production with all of your … ” Fiona gestured towards the baby’s high chair, “
other
responsibilities?”
“Absolutely not.” Declan’s voice rang out. Simon looked helplessly between him and Nora.
“This is my decision, for lots of reasons.” Nora’s emphatic statement implored Declan to understand. Instead he looked seriously angry.
“It’s revolting.” Rupert stood and threw his napkin down. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides.
Lydia stood up and put a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. “Find yourself another Dr. and Mrs. Bradman while you’re at it.”
The couple stood and stalked to the doorway.
Grayson stood, too. “Now, everyone, simmer down and take your seats. Lydia, Rupert, come back here. I
am
thinking of Gemma. She was the consummate professional.”
Fiona coughed and took a sip of water.
Nora watched Grayson ratchet up his charm as everyone sat back down. She retook her seat at the table, avoiding Declan’s glare while the director worked his magic.
“That old saying ‘the show must go on’ has a long history behind it. Why, it was Noel Coward himself who coined that very phrase, and here we are putting on one of his best-loved plays. We must continue that tradition and keep the faith that Gemma would want us to continue—and dedicate the show to her memory.”
“I suppose we shouldn’t disappoint our fans,” Helen allowed. “We could make an announcement at the opening that the play is dedicated to Gemma.”
Beside Nora, Simon groaned. Lydia and Rupert shook their heads in disgust.
Grayson continued. “There have been tickets sold and props rented. Think of Simon and his business. Who wants to be responsible for canceling on our gracious host who’s gone out of his way during these most trying times?”
Nora saw the Dentons’ discomfort; they looked down at their plates.
Grayson’s tone toughened. “And may I just remind you all? Each of you has signed contracts.”
“That seals it.” Fiona turned to look at Simon. “Is there any pudding?”