A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (4 page)

Tessa said, “I expect that will be Reggie, my gardener.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll get it,” Matt said.

He opened the door, and Gingersnap shot past the man in the doorway. He jumped back, and Molly heard him mutter under his breath, “Darn cat.”

“Good morning, Reggie,” Tessa said.

Reggie was in his mid-fifties with a stocky build and a hard ruddy face. His faded brown anorak looked well-worn, and his jeans were stuffed into muddy boots.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said.

Tessa made the introductions and Matt offered his hand. Molly remained at the sink but gave him a little wave with a soapy hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

Reggie nodded silently and turned back to Tessa. “I need to borrow some tools from the shed,” he said. “Brenda wants me to plant some flowers she got from Mrs. Reedy. You know how she is. Her Royal Highness wants it done today.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Tessa’s mouth. “Now, now, Reggie, be kind. By all means, plant her flowers. We want her to tell everyone what a wonderful gardener you are. Don’t give her a reason not to be generous with her praise.”

Reggie frowned. “You don’t need to remind me I’m beholden to her.”

“Oh, no! I didn’t mean to imply you’re beholden to her,” Tessa said quickly, but Reggie scowled and didn’t look convinced. “Would you like a coffee?” she asked.

“No, thank you,” he said.

“What about breakfast?” she persisted. “I can make a plate for you.”

“No time, but thanks all the same. I just wanted to let you know about the tools and where I’d be going,” he said. He nodded to Matt and Molly and closed the door behind him.

“Well, he’s no chatterbox,” Molly said.

Tessa sighed. “Reggie’s a bit rough around the edges.”

“Sounds like he’s not a big fan of Brenda’s,” Molly said.

“I don’t know why, but he’s developed a bad attitude about her,” Tessa said. “She has a legion of gardeners at her beck and call, an entire lawn company out of Keensburg, but she’s been good to him, hiring him for small jobs. A good word from her in the village would help his business tremendously.”

“Why does he need her help, and why is he borrowing your tools?”

“He’s had a tough go of it,” Tessa said.

“Why?” Molly asked.

Tessa hesitated, but finally said, “Because he’s served time in prison.” Molly exchanged a worried look with Matt. “I can see the way you’re looking at each other,” Tessa said. “He paid a price to society for what he did. You shouldn’t judge.”

Matt said, “May we ask why he went to prison?”

“It was an accident,” Tessa said. “He murdered a man.” Molly felt her jaw drop. Matt looked shocked. “It was a pub brawl,” she went on. “Reggie didn’t even know the man. There was a soccer match on the TV and a fight broke out over the outcome of the game. The other man pulled a knife and Reggie fought back. Somehow during the struggle, he managed to get hold of his knife and accidentally stabbed him.”

“How long was he in prison?” Matt asked.

“Fifteen years,” Tessa said.

Molly whistled low. “Whoever sentenced him obviously didn’t think it was an accident,” she said. “Did you know him before the murder?”

Tessa shook her head. “Reggie’s originally from Liverpool, but he didn’t want to go there when he got out. He started his own business at the urging of our vicar, Reverend Jenkins. I decided to give him a second chance. The truth is, I needed the help. After Jack died, I tried to do the gardening myself, but it’s no good, I haven’t the knack for it. Jack used to say I could kill a cactus.”

Molly said, “Despite the fact that your garden is beautiful, I’m not wild about an ex-convict working for you.”

“I understand your concern, but it’s unwarranted,” Tessa said. “I wouldn’t have hired Reggie if I didn’t believe he was truly reformed.”

Molly glanced at Matt. He was frowning, and she could see it in his eyes, he didn’t trust Reggie. Neither did she.

Chapter 2

The road to Channing Hall was once a carriage road, surrounded for centuries by tall oaks on either side. The house was situated on ten acres, with meadows and rolling hills and a forest at the edge of the property. Molly glimpsed it through the trees, and as Matt turned the rental car onto the long circular drive, she felt her excitement grow.

Channing Hall loomed in front of them, a magnificent and perfectly proportioned mansion of weathered brick with a high slate roof, four chimneys, and dozens of gleaming windows. Matt parked the car behind a shiny new silver Jaguar. No one got out, but for a long moment stared at the house. Finally, he said, “I have to admit, Channing Hall is impressive.” He turned around in his seat to face Tessa in the back. “What do you know about its history?”

Tessa said, “I know it was built by the first Earl of Rangely in 1761, and that he was a gentleman farmer. Over the years, the estate employed many villagers, and remained in the family until the last Earl of Rangely had to give it up twenty-five years ago. The taxes and maintenance became too much to handle, and his children weren’t interested in taking it on. It was a shame. They were nice people.”

“How did Donnie and Brenda manage to afford it?”

“Donnie made his fortune with a string of car dealerships across the U.K.,” Tessa said. “I’m afraid I don’t know much more about the history of the estate. I believe it’s been a peaceful house, with little intrigue or drama. Shall we go in?”

Matt helped Tessa from the car, hovering over her as she made her way with her cane to the ten-foot-high front door. Before Molly could press the bell, it was opened by a plump, dour woman wearing a crisp black skirt and a frilly white blouse. Tessa smiled and said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Jackson. How are you today?”

Mrs. Jackson said stiffly, “Very well, thank you, madam. Please come in.”

Feeling like a child about to open her Christmas presents, Molly stepped into the foyer. The interior immediately lived up to all of her expectations. The ceilings were low in the entryway, giving the house a cozy, intimate feel, despite its enormity. The walls, floors, and ceiling were made of maple and rosewood, and as they followed Mrs. Jackson down a long hallway, Molly noted the elaborate scrollwork on the grand staircase and the ornately carved crown moldings. Even the window frames and massive doors were decorative. Channing Hall was a creative work of art.

Mrs. Jackson escorted them to the drawing room, and in contrast to the dark hallway, it was bright and cheery. A middle-aged woman with sharp cheekbones and a long straight nose strode toward them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Jackson,” she said. “You may bring the tea.” Mrs. Jackson nodded and left. The woman turned to Tessa. “So good of you to come.”

Tessa introduced Molly and Matt to Brenda Adair. She appeared to be an elegant woman in a blue silk dress with her hair draped in a loop at her neck, but as she shook Molly’s hand with a surprisingly strong handshake, her eyes were distant and cold. She quickly scanned Molly from head to toe, which made Molly feel extremely uncomfortable.

“Tessa’s told me so much about you,” Brenda said. From the sour look on her face, Molly thought she either didn’t like her outfit or wasn’t at all pleased to meet her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Molly said, ever polite. Her mother had raised her right. “Thank you for having us to tea.”

“You’re very welcome to Channing Hall,” Brenda said flatly. She looked past her and finally smiled. “Here is my son, Giles.”

A young man came into the room behind them. He had white-blond hair and the same chiseled features as his mother. His clothes were casual but looked expensive. He was much shorter than Molly, and he didn’t seem happy about having to look up at her. Or maybe, Molly thought, he’s as grumpy as his mother.

Introductions were made, and Tessa said, “Congratulations are in order, young man. How does it feel to be engaged?”

“Quite nice, actually,” Giles said.

“Is Penelope here?”

“She’s been delayed, but should be along shortly,” he said.

Molly said, “We were in the village this morning. Tessa showed us around, and we stopped by Bits & Pieces. Unfortunately, the door was locked. I would have loved to see the shop.”

Giles glanced at his mother. “You must be mistaken,” he said. “Penelope’s been there all day.”

“I’m pretty sure the door was locked,” Molly said.

Brenda waved a bejeweled hand. “The door sticks. Honestly, Giles, it must be repaired. We can’t be locking customers out.”

“Of course, Mother, I’ll take care of it,” he said.

Molly didn’t think the door was stuck. Even Matt couldn’t get it open. But it wasn’t worth arguing about and she let it go.

She turned to Brenda. “Matt and I were sorry to hear about your husband’s recent death.”

“How kind of you to say,” Brenda said. “What do you think of Channing Hall?”

Molly was surprised by the quick change of subject. She hoped she hadn’t made her feel bad talking about her deceased husband. Although she had the suspicion that Brenda was a strong woman who could handle just about any event without flinching.

“The house and grounds are magnificent,” Molly said. “You and your husband were brave to take on such a vast estate. The upkeep must be daunting.”

“Yes, it can be a challenge, but it’s also a labor of love,” Brenda said. “I wouldn’t care to live anywhere else.” She tilted her head as she looked at Molly with her piercing eyes. “Tessa told me you write for
Collector’s Weekly
. I went online and read some of your articles. You’re quite the investigative reporter.”

Before Molly could reply, Mrs. Jackson came into the room carrying a heavy silver tea tray. It teetered in her arms, but Giles made no move to assist her. Matt stepped forward and took the tray, and Mrs. Jackson’s features softened as she thanked him. At her direction, he placed the tray on a table by a window. Mrs. Jackson took it from there, arranging sandwiches and cakes on a three-tiered platter. When she was done, Brenda said, “Please, everyone, help yourself.”

Molly picked up a flowery teacup and turned it over. Minton bone china. It looked old enough to be original to the house. The sandwiches were thin-cut chicken salad and roast beef, and there was an assortment of tiny frosted cakes. Molly filled her plate with sandwiches and chose to sit on a gold settee. Matt and Giles stood by the fireplace, and Tessa and Brenda sat on a pair of Louis XV chairs. Molly ate her sandwiches and listened to Matt and Giles discuss American versus British football, and her aunt and Brenda talk about the autumn fete to be held at St. John’s Church. When she was finished eating her sandwiches, she got up and walked back to the table for cake, but before she could make her selection, she heard a woman’s voice call out, “Sorry I’m late.”

Molly turned to see a stylish young woman enter the room. She wore black stretch pants and a tight green sweater that matched her eyes. Her hair was shiny blond, and cut in a straight line to her shoulders. Brenda introduced her as Penelope Cassidy.

Penelope smiled at Molly, but she thought it seemed forced. She gave off a frosty vibe, but she supposed that kind of personality suited Giles’s cool demeanor, as well as met with his mother’s approval. Molly chose her cakes and returned to the settee. Penelope poured herself a cup of tea and sat beside her.

Brenda said, “Penelope, dear, Molly told us she couldn’t open the door of the shop earlier this morning. It must have been stuck again. Giles will have it repaired.”

Penelope held very still, her teacup lifted in the air. Then she turned to Molly. “I’m dreadfully sorry,” she said. “I had no idea you were having difficulty with the door.”

Before Molly could reply, Brenda said, “Molly writes for an antiques and collectibles magazine. She’s even assisted the police. They’re fascinating articles.”

Penelope sipped her tea and looked at Molly over the rim of her cup. “How interesting,” she said. “Have you always been a writer?”

“No, actually, I taught English at a private school for eight years, but I’ve always loved antiques and writing.”

Tessa said, “Her mother is a dealer in Southern folk art pottery. She had her own store for a while.”

Molly said, “Whenever I had the time, I’d go with her to auctions and antique stores. When my teaching job started to wear on me, I submitted some articles to
Collector’s Weekly
and they published them. When a full-time staff position came open, I applied and got the job. Now I get paid to do something I really love.”

Brenda said, “How wise of you to make a career change. I believe it’s important to do something you love. Giles grew weary of his job in London and quit it last spring. He managed a men’s upscale clothing store on Jermyn Street.”

Molly turned to Giles. When Penelope had arrived, he’d come over to stand beside her. One hand rested possessively on her shoulder.

“How are you enjoying your work at Bits & Pieces?” Molly asked.

Before he could reply, Brenda answered for him. Her habit of interrupting irritated Molly.

“Giles manages the shop with Penelope,” Brenda said. “Since my husband died, I prefer to spend my time attending auctions and estate sales. I’m sure you can appreciate why, Molly.”

“Sure, it’s the fun part,” she said and turned to Penelope. “Congratulations on getting engaged. When’s the wedding?”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Penelope said.

“Nonsense,” Brenda said. “You’ll be married in the spring.”

Molly saw Penelope’s jaw tighten. She was probably tired of Brenda speaking for her and Giles. Giles seemed to sense her unease and squeezed her shoulder. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the hall and Molly heard Mrs. Jackson shouting. “Stop right there! I’ll call the police if you don’t leave immediately!” A moment later, she was in the doorway waving her hands frantically. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Adair, I couldn’t stop her,” she said.

A woman pushed her way past her. “Well, well, well,” she said. “What’ve we got here? Are you having a party and didn’t invite me?”

Brenda stood slowly and said in a calm voice, “It’s fine, Mrs. Jackson. You may go.”

Mrs. Jackson scowled at the woman, who smirked at her as she went out. She had long wavy red hair and porcelain skin spattered with freckles. Her jeans were skin-tight, and her blouse was unbuttoned low enough to show off an ample bosom.