Murder at Honeychurch Hall: A Mystery (32 page)

“I would have thought a story like this would have been in all the local newspapers,” said David. “But it was hardly mentioned at all.”

“The family wants to keep it quiet.”

“Like they kept the robbery quiet?” David said mildly. “Have you been keeping an eye open for me? Seen anything on that list?”

“Of course I’ll keep an eye open,” I said but I hadn’t and I didn’t intend to, either.

David stepped forward and gave me a hug. “So we’re okay? You and me?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Dinner. Saturday night. You pick the restaurant?”

“Can’t,” I said. “You’re right, I should stay down here a while until Mum gets her pins out.”

David gave me a peck on my forehead. “Do you want me to call you later?”

“Not really.”

David laughed, unaware that I was serious. With a wave, he sauntered back to his Porsche and in that moment, I knew it was over between us.

I went back to the Carriage House feeling liberated. Mum was staying and for now, so was I. It was time to unpack all those boxes and help Mum make this her real home. I opened the sitting room door and surveyed the chaos.

Taking the box marked
FRANK—DOCUMENTS
, I said, “Let’s start with you, Dad.” I knew this was the one chore Mum dreaded doing.

Removing the lid I saw a sealed letter marked
IRIS—PLEASE READ.
Dad had written the date on the outside of the envelope. It was the week before he died.

“Oh, Dad,” I whispered as tears filled my eyes. “We miss you so.”

I put it down and knew I couldn’t tackle that box, either, so focused on sorting towels.

Mum was gone a long time.

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

“Helping you unpack. How did it go? I was thinking about you
all
the time.”

“Look.” Mum handed me a blue velvet case.

“The pearls!” I gasped. “You’re kidding.”

“She said she hoped they would make up for what happened between us,” said Mum. “She insisted I wasn’t to blame and that she had made a terrible mistake in sending us away.”

I opened the box. “They’re beautiful—and wait … one day they will be mine!” I gave her a hug. “What about the rest of the spoils from the robbery?”

“I’m sure I don’t know
what
you mean,” said Mum with a wink. “Her ladyship—Edith—told me that you are welcome to look through the attics. Apparently there are a lot of Victorian toys up there for your shop—that is if you are still planning on having one. She’ll even loan you the Steiff mourning bear.”

Gesturing to the pair of mice on the mantelpiece, I said, “Well, you’ll be happy to know that Jazzbo Jenkins is enjoying his reunion with Ella Fitzgerald.”

“Where was he?”

“Recovering from his ordeal behind the back of William’s—or should I say, Ralph’s sofa,” I said.

I went to give Mum a hug but she yelped, “Pins!”

“So all’s well that ends well,” I said.

“Not really.”

“Oh Mum,” I exclaimed. “You’re never satisfied.”

“The government is building a high-speed train line through the estate.”

“But that’s terrible!” I said. “We have to fight it.”

“Oh we will, don’t worry,” said Mum. “Rupert is distraught. He’s sworn to help fight it, too, though I’m not sure if I trust his motives. Do leopards ever change their spots?”

“Mum, there is something you must see.” I opened Dad’s letter. Her hand shook as she took it. “No, I can’t. Read it to me,” she said. “I … I just can’t.”

My fingers trembled, too, as I held the paper and recognized his quirky spidery handwriting. “‘
Iris, I know you were never happy living in the city. I know you gave up so much for me but I want you to know that never a day has passed by without me thanking God that we met. I will love you for all eternity.
’”

“Dad loved you so much,” I said, trying hard not to cry.

“Do you think that’s why Frank gave me the newspaper clipping about Lady Edith?” Mum asked. “Perhaps it was his way of giving me his blessing—to return to a place I loved?”

“Yes, I think it was.” I put my arms around Mum’s shoulders and held her tightly. “But I have one more question for you,” I went on. “If Vera had answered the door on Saturday night, would you have given her the money?”

“Of course. I’d do anything to protect you from that awful Trudy Wynne,” said Mum. “Oh Kat, I was terrified you’d become the next victim on
Walk of Shame! Celebrity Family Secrets Revealed.
”

David’s questions as to William’s true identity suddenly hit me. Had Trudy put him up to it? What if she discovered the connection between Lady Edith, the real Billy, and my mother? She’d have a field day. I went cold at the thought.

“Did I mention that nice policeman wants to pop in later?” Mum went on.

“No, you didn’t,” I said. “Please don’t play matchmaker, Mum.”

“Just be open,” Mum said. “He has a ready-made family and you’re not getting any younger.”

I bit back a stinging retort. “Are you ready now?”

We stood on the banks of the River Dart watching the setting sun. Silhouetted above was Eric on his tractor, hauling away the white marble angel.

“They’re moving Kelly to the family plot,” said Mum. “Apparently Rupert didn’t realize that Lavinia was besotted with him. He thought she was just doing her duty. The gentry have such strange views on love.”

I handed Mum the orange Tupperware box containing Dad’s ashes and helped her into the rowing boat. Picking up the oars, I pushed off from the riverbank and we glided out onto the glassy water.

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About the Author

HANNAH DENNISON began her writing career in 1977 as a trainee reporter for a small West Country newspaper in Devon, England. Hannah is a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, the Willamette Writers, Crime Writers’ Association, and Toastmasters International. Hannah is also the author of the Vicky Hill mysteries. This is her first novel in the Honeychurch Hall series.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.

MURDER AT HONEYCHURCH HALL.
Copyright © 2014 by Hannah Dennison. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.minotaurbooks.com

Cover design by James Iacobelli

Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher

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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request

ISBN 978-1-250-00779-7 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-250-03686-5 (e-book)

e-ISBN 9781250036865

First Edition: May 2014