Murder in the Valley: A Lady Margaret Turnbull Cozy Mystery (International Cozy Mysteries Series Book 4) (3 page)

BOOK: Murder in the Valley: A Lady Margaret Turnbull Cozy Mystery (International Cozy Mysteries Series Book 4)
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Chapter 7

Lucy sat down heavily in the nearest chair.  “Do you
think...do you think they did anything to Winston?”

“It's possible.”  Detective Sullivan didn't bother to sugar
coat the news.  “At the same time, it's possible he's hiding out in one of the
empty houses in the valley.”   He pointed out several possibilities on the
map.  “It's a long shot, but they should be searched. Once Winston decided to
freelance with the debt collection package, he put himself and everyone around
him in danger.”

“Which means, you ladies need to return to Bangalow and wait
for word from us,” Patterson said. 

Maggie set her lips into a firm, determined line.  “We're in
this together, remember, Detective?”

“We can’t have either of you put in more danger than you
already are,” Sullivan said.  “None of us know for sure where Winston is or what
he’d do if he’s found.  The land developer also seems like a vicious type who
will stop at almost nothing to get what he wants.  If he wants Winston’s
property that badly then it’s the lynchpin of the project, he’ll stop at
nothing.”

Sullivan led Maggie and Lucy back through the station to the
lobby.   “I'm sorry, but you’ll have to trust us, ladies. We'll let you know as
soon as we have anything solid to tell.”

~*~

At Patterson's prodding, the detectives ate lunch at the
golf course country club.  They weren't in it so much for the food, but for the
gossip.    Some guests were more than happy to talk about assorted details of
the land development scheme but learning about Winston's recent activities took
a little prying.

Once one person started talking, it was like a dominos
effect where others also began to spill their secrets.   The kicker was one
patron's insistence that Winston had been in hiding for three months.  How
could that be when Lucy claimed he came home every night?  The detectives
thanked the guest and climbed into Patterson's four wheel drive truck to
explore the abandoned houses in the valley.  Was Winston hiding in one of
them?  They were about to find out.

The first house they came to was an eyesore.  Everything was
boarded up tight.  A notice stuck on the window said it was set for demolition
next week.

“There’s no way anyone could live in there,” Detective
Patterson said.  “The doors and windows are boarded up tight.  If Winston
managed to get in, let alone stay, I’d be very impressed.”

“Let's mark it off and move on to the next one,” Sullivan
said.

The second house on the list was in a similar state of
disrepair with boarded up windows and doors and a demolition notice in the
window. 

“Next,” Patterson sighed.  “With our luck, there won't be
any sign of life until the very last abandoned house in the Valley.”

Fortunately, they didn't have to wait that long.  The third
house wasn't boarded up and showed some signs of life.  The detectives
exchanged glances.   Could this be the big break they were after?

“Let's check the back,” Sullivan said.

The detectives creeped around to the back of the house. To
their surprise, and good luck, the door was unlocked.  Both drew their guns and
pushed the door open to enter the house.

Sullivan instantly covered his nose when a wave of hot,
putrid scented air hit his face like a fan circulating stale air.  Patterson
held his sleeve to his nose as they explored the rag tag living room and
kitchen.   That's when they saw it or, more appropriately, him. 

Winston Broad laid dead on the floor, half in the walk in
pantry and half on the kitchen floor. 

Chapter 8

“Yes, thank you, Detective, I understand.”  Maggie hung up
the phone.  

Lucy fidgeted on the couch beside her.  Everything about her
was a ball of nervous energy.  “They've found him, haven't they?” she asked
quietly.  “He's not hiding out, but dead.”  Lucy blinked back tears.  “Don't
soften the blow for me, Maggie.  Just tell me out right – like tearing a band
aid from a wound.”

“The detectives believe Winston was in the way of that
developer so he had to die.”  Maggie sat down beside Lucy.  “It would be the
only way for the developer to get the house. That debt package was simply a way
to lure him into working for the developer.  If Winston had seen the benefits
he would get from the debt collection and working with such a powerful ally, I
imagine he would let go of his home and land.  What the developer didn’t expect
was Winston was honest and compassionate.  He must have been preparing to
forgive the debts instead of demanding payments.”

“The developers never approached us,” Lucy said.  “If they
had, we may have sold.”

“That $500,000 must be a drop in the bucket to them.  They
clearly wanted the property.  You said he owned it out right – that it had been
in his family for generations.  The only way to get it was to kill him.”

“The developer can’t get his hand on the land by killing
Winston,” Lucy blurted out. “It’s been mine from the beginning. I asked
Winston’s put it in my name as soon as he acquired it outright.  It was a way
to...safeguard...the property and not tie it directly to him. Now I can do
whatever I want with it.”

“That was certainly a convenient break.”  Maggie bit her lip
and tried not to let any suspicions shine through.  She always had her doubts
about Lucy but now this complete lack of compassion after finding out about her
husband's death, increased these doubts tenfold.   She could cry at the drop of
a hat for any other thing about the case but not shed one tear for Winston's
death?

Something was going on.

Lucy smiled, though it was far from a warm gesture.  The
best word Maggie could use to describe Lucy's smile was calculated.   “Isn't it
though?   Now I can sell property to the developer, move out of this horrible
village, and retire to the Cayman Islands. “

“So soon?”

“Why not?”  Lucy suddenly became defensive.  “Wouldn’t you
want to leave an unpleasant chapter of your life behind you? You moved here
from England, now I'm going to move far, far away too.”

“Are you sure you've been telling us the whole story, Lucy?”

Her nervous fidgeting returned in force.  “I don't know what
you're talking about.”

“I think you haven’t been telling us the whole story,”
Maggie said.  “I think you lured your husband into the scheme yourself and
might have even killed him during one of the latest visits at the abandoned
house.  

You knew where he was all along, didn't you, Lucy?  It was
all part of the plan. Except Winston got cold feet. You couldn't have that. 
Not with all your dreams of getting away from the village hanging in the
balance.”

Lucy opened her mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn't
come out.  She opened and closed her mouth like a fish gasping for air before
finally spitting out:   “What do you think you know?”

“Plenty.” 

Maggie felt in her pocket to make sure her cell phone was
handy.   If Lucy was a killer, she didn't need to be the latest victim.  
“You're not as good as covering your tracks as you think you are.   I knew you
already owned the house instead of Winston.  All that took was some public
records searching. On top of that, your reaction to hearing news of Winston's
death was not one of grief.  You knew. You knew before any of us did.”   Maggie
stood and moved across the room.

Even with one hand on her cell phone, putting more distance
between her and Lucy wouldn't hurt any.   She hit the re-dial button while
keeping the phone hidden.  The last person she called was Detective Sullivan. 
He picked up on the second ring.  Maggie made sure to speak loud and distinct
so Sullivan could hear.  She needed witnesses or it would just be her word
against Lucy's.

“I admit, you had even me fooled early on, Lucy.  You were
quite good with the waterworks,” Maggie said.  “But the waterworks can't hide
the truth.   Winston wasn't your first husband, was he?”

Lucy denied it, though denial was getting her nowhere fast –
and it certainly wasn't throwing suspicion off of her.  “I don't know what
you're talking about.  I loved Winston.”

“But not as much as you loved Quentin.”

Lucy's face drained of all color.  “How did you...How did
you find out about Quentin?”

“You mean your first husband?”  Maggie knew she had Lucy on
the run now.  Just a few more well placed reveals and they'd have the case
solved.

“You'd be surprised at how much information you can gather
from talking to the right people.  Quinton worked with Winston at Barclays UK. 
He even went so far as to introduce you to Winston.   He even came up with the
plan to divorce him in favor of marrying Winston, didn't he?”

“But the land was worth so much money,” Lucy finally confessed. 
“Quintin and I struggled.  I know a lot of people struggle, but Winston – or
more like his land – was our ticket out of struggles. Winston would have done
anything for me.   He proved it when he signed over the property to me.  Once
it was mine, Quintin put the bug in the land developer's ear that now was the
time to build. In order for me to have full control over the profit of the sale
of the land, Winston had to die.”

“And you were just the one to do it, weren’t you?”  Maggie
asked.  “He trusted you and you led him to disaster.”

“I didn't do it.”  Lucy shook her head emphatically. “It was
Quintin. I got cold feet.  I wanted the money, but I wanted it on my terms. 
I've spent my whole life beholden to a husband and hoping he can provide for
me.  Not anymore.  I wanted to make my own decisions and control my own money. Quintin
couldn't accept this.   He --”

“He vandalized your house in the hopes you'd come running
scared back to him.”

Detectives Sullivan stood in the living room doorway with Patterson
directly behind him.   “He underestimated your determination, though, Mrs.
Broad. You weren't going to share the money from the sale of the house any more
than Quintin was going to share you with Winston.   But you see, Quintin has
the last laugh after all.”

“What do you mean?”  Lucy's hands trembled. 

“When Quintin realized you were going to cut him out of the
scheme, he came down to the police station and wrote out a confession.  He
signed it in front of witnesses.”

“What does that have to do with me?”  Lucy was still
grasping at straws to stop her boat from sinking.

“He named names, Lucy,” Patterson said.  “You're at the top
of the list. Lucy Broad, you are under arrest for conspiracy to murder Winston
Broad....”

About The Author

C T Mitchell was born in Cairns but now lives in Brisbane
Australia. He trained as an accountant and put his knowledge firstly into being
a share broker during the mining boom of the roaring 1980’s before venturing
off to the grey side of real estate sales. For a brief four year stretch he
slipped into the dark side of car sales before seeing the light and returning
to real estate and finance.

He writes the Cabarita Crimes series books featuring
Australian Detective Jack Creed – a detective from the school of hard knocks
where protocol is not a priority in his ‘get the crime solved at any cost’
demeanor. The first short story in the series, REJECTION, sees Jack Creed up
against a sick, demented Nicholas Weatherby who plans to carry out Australia’s
first mass University shooting. Rejection, like other novellas in the series,
have been best sellers in their categories on Amazon, particularly in the US,
UK and Australia. “Murder on the Beach” – #1 Amazon UK #1 Amazon US.

The Lady Margaret Turnbull Cozy Mysteries is another series
featuring the amateur sleuth Lady Margaret Turnbull whose uncanny knack of
solving crimes is the envy of the local police Detective Tom Sullivan.

C T lives with his wife and four nearby adult children;
splitting their time between Brisbane and Cabarita Beach, NSW, Australia.

Find out about C T’s latest books and how you can get them
at
low prices
by joining his newsletter at:

http://www.CTMitchell.com

 

And don’t forget
to connect on:

 

http://www.twitter.com/ctmitchellbooks

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nerve wrecking thriller that centers around a disturbed young man”

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enough that it seems like it could be pulled from today's headline”

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onto your seats! This short read packs a punch”

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