The Appleton Case (A Markham Sisters Cozy Mystery Novella Book 1)
Read The Appleton Case (A Markham Sisters Cozy Mystery Novella Book 1) Online
Authors: Diana Xarissa
The Appleton Case
A Markham Sisters
Cozy
Mystery Novella
Diana
Xarissa
Copyright
©
2015 Diana
Xarissa
All Rights Reserved
For my sister.
Sisters are a wonderful blessing!
Acknowledgements
This novella, like my
other works, is the result of the hard work of many people.
Thanks to Denise, my editor, who managed
to fix most of my mistakes.
I know
a few will have snuck in, most likely because I keep making changes after she’s
done!
Thanks to my beta
readers, Charlene and Janice, who agreed to try out this first book in my new
series without really knowing what they were letting themselves in for.
And thanks to my
readers, those who found this book through Bessie (or something else I’ve already
published) and those who are trying me for the very first time.
I truly appreciate each and every one of
you and would love to hear from you.
My contact details are at the end of the book.
Table
of Contents
Author’s Note
Starting a new
book is always both exhilarating and terrifying in pretty much equal
measure.
Starting a new series
takes both of those emotions to a new level.
Let me start by thanking you for giving
this book a try.
The Markham
sisters made their first appearance in
Aunt
Bessie Decides,
book four in my Isle of Man Cozy Mysteries series.
There the sisters were having a lovely
holiday on the Isle of Man and met Bessie
Cubbon
on
Laxey
beach.
That book took place in June 1998, so that has rather determined the
start date of this series.
Janet, the
younger sister, has stayed in touch with Bessie, and each book will open and
close with parts of her letters to their new friend on the Isle of Man.
You don’t need to read the Isle of Man
Cozy Mystery Series to enjoy this series.
The letters to Bessie provide a short introduction and wrap-up to the
story here without giving any details from the Bessie series.
The Markham
sisters’ mysteries take place in a fictional Derbyshire village and they are
novella length, so somewhat shorter than the Bessie novels.
As with the
Bessie books, I’ve used English spellings and terms and have provided a glossary
and notes in the back of the book for readers outside of the United
Kingdom.
The longer I live in the
US, the greater the chances that Americanisms may slip into the text, and I do
apologise
for any that have snuck past me.
This is a work
of fiction and all characters are a creation of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance that they may share with
any real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As I said, the village in Derbyshire
where they live is also fictional.
Some of the shops and restaurants may bear a coincidental resemblance to
some real-life counterpart, but that is wholly unintentional.
I’d love to
hear from you.
My contact details
are in the back of the book.
I hope
you enjoy reading the story at least as much as I enjoyed writing it!
3 August 1998
Dearest Bessie,
It was such a great pleasure getting to know
you and your lovely island in June.
Joan and I often talk about what a wonderful holiday we had.
We are planning another visit, perhaps
next spring, and hope to get to spend even more time with you then.
I especially enjoyed hearing about your
involvement in figuring out what happened in the unfortunate death of that
young man off the
telly
, and about your other recent investigations.
Joan and I actually had a similar experience
lately, looking into a mysterious death here in Derbyshire.
It all started just after we returned
home from our holiday, when Joan, usually the sensible one of the two of us,
had a rather startling idea.
Chapter
One
“Where are we
exactly?” Joan asked in a calm voice.
“We’re right
here,” Janet answered, waving the map in the air.
“At least I think we are.”
Janet held her breath, knowing what was
coming.
“We’re lost,
aren’t we?” Joan asked, her tone somewhat less calm.
“Maybe just
the tiniest bit,” Janet admitted, glancing at her sister in the driving seat.
Joan sighed
deeply.
“I’ll just find a place to
pull over,” she muttered.
A few moments
later a large pub appeared on their left and Joan pulled into the car
park.
She turned towards her sister
in the passenger seat and smiled.
Janet wasn’t
fooled.
She knew the smile was
fake
and that Joan was cross with her.
“I did suggest that I drive and you read
the map,” she said quietly, handing the map to Joan.
“Yes, well,
it’s rather too late for that, isn’t it?”
Joan looked at the map for a moment.
“Where are the directions from the
estate agent?” she asked eventually.
Janet handed
her the step-by-step directions that she’d taken over the phone from the
man.
Joan read through them while
looking over the map and then shook her head.
“These
directions don’t make sense,” she said angrily.
“There isn’t any third turning after you
leave the motorway.”
“That’s what I
said,” Janet agreed, happy to have her sister angry
at
the estate agent rather than her.
“Didn’t you
look at the map when you were talking to the man?” Joan asked sharply.
Not out of the
woods yet, Janet thought.
“I just
assumed, since he’s getting paid to show us the house, that he’d want to give
us proper directions,” Janet replied.
“Yes, well,
one of us shall have to go into the pub and ask for directions from here,” Joan
announced.
“I suggest you go.”
Janet opened
her mouth to argue and then shrugged.
She didn’t mind doing it and she’d probably do a better job than her
older sister anyway.
“I’ll just
turn the car around, ready to leave,” Joan told her as Janet opened her door.
Yes, I suppose
we must be ready for a quick getaway, Janet thought to herself, rolling her
eyes at her sister when she was sure Joan couldn’t possibly see her.
The
middle-aged man behind the bar in the empty pub was kind enough to trace the
correct route on Janet’s map for her and she was thrilled to find that they
weren’t all that far away from their destination.
“Come back for
some lunch later,” he suggested.
“We’ve cottage pie and chips on special today.”
Janet nodded.
She’d love to come back, but Joan didn’t
really enjoy pub food.
She
preferred to eat what she’d prepared herself.
As Joan was an excellent cook and an
even better baker, Janet never complained.
With the new
directions, the pair found their destination only a few minutes later.
“It looks
really large,” Janet said doubtfully, looking up at the guesthouse that they’d
come to see.
“Well, we
can’t very well run a bed and breakfast from a tiny flat, can we?” Joan
asked.
She climbed out of the car,
leaving Janet shaking her head.
“I never
wanted to run a bed and breakfast,” Janet muttered towards her sister, who was
walking rapidly towards the front of the home.
“This was your crazy idea, remember?”
Joan was
knocking on the front door when Janet caught up to her.
By the time she’d
climbed the two steps to join her sister on the small porch
,
the door was swinging open
.
“Ah, Ms. Markham?
I’m Henry Fitzsimmons.
We spoke on the phone.”
The man who
opened the door looked exactly the way Janet expected him to from their short
phone conversation.
He had to be
somewhere in his mid-twenties and he looked uncomfortable in his suit and tie.
His dark brown hair needed cutting and his
thick glasses magnified his brown eyes.
He was at least a few inches shorter than six feet tall, but that still
made him half a foot taller than the two women.
“I’m Joan
Markham,” Joan answered as she shook the man’s offered hand.
“But you spoke to Janet on the phone.”
Janet smiled
brightly as she took her turn shaking hands with the man.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said,
politely ignoring the fact that he’d given them the wrong directions.
“It’s nice to
meet you as well,” the man muttered as he took a step back into the house.
“Come on in and have a look then,” he
suggested.
Joan followed
him inside quickly while Janet took a moment to turn back to see what the view
from the porch was like.
There was
just enough room for a few chairs, and Janet smiled to herself as she looked
out across the Derbyshire dales.
Maybe this bed and breakfast wasn’t such a bad idea.
She turned
back and stepped into the house, pushing the door shut behind her.
“I think I’d
quite like to simply go around by myself,” Joan announced in the spacious
foyer.
“Yes, well,
that is, um, I don’t know, I mean, I suppose you can,” Henry sputtered
ineffectually.
Janet chuckled
silently.
If Joan wanted to look
around by herself, the young man would be smart to simply stay out of her
way.
Of course, Janet had
sixty-plus years of experience with her older sister; she was much better
equipped at dealing with her than the young man was.
“There’s
really no point in you following me around and saying things like ‘this is the
en-suite.’
If I can’t figure that
out for myself, I’ve no business buying a bed and breakfast, surely?” Joan
asked.
“Well, yes, I
mean, I suppose so,” the man’s eyes darted between the two women a bit
desperately.
“Why don’t you
tell us the basic specifications and then we’ll have a look,” Janet said in her
very kindest primary schoolteacher voice.
“Of course,”
Henry said.
“
Doveby
House was built in the late seventeenth century as a sort of manor house for
the wealthiest farmer in the area.
It sits on the outskirts of
Doveby
Dale, which
is a small village just up the road.
Doveby
House remained in the original owner’s
family for many generations before the family died out and the property was
sold.
In the last hundred years or
so it has had many owners.
The last
owner, a Mrs. Margaret Appleton, was the one who converted it into a bed and
breakfast.
She turned the
six-bedroom, one-bath home into a four-bedroom, four-bathroom property.”
“So every
bedroom has its own en-suite?” Joan asked.
“Yes, that’s
really necessary these days,” the man replied.
“Guests, especially guests from the US,
expect it.”
“Indeed,” Joan
nodded.
“Is there anything else we
should know before we have a look around?”
“The property
has been somewhat neglected in the last year or so and could probably do with a
fresh coat of paint and some
modernising
,” Henry
said.
“But it was originally done
up to a very high standard and you certainly won’t need to replace any bathrooms
or the kitchen.”
“Good to
know,” Joan said.
“Anything else?”
“The property is
being sold fully furnished, from the beds, tables and chairs to the dishes and
glasses in the kitchen cupboards.
It also includes a small coach house at the back,” Henry said, speaking
quickly.
“It’s just being used for
storage at the moment, but it could be converted and used as additional guest
space.”
“I don’t
imagine we’ll need additional space for guests,” Joan said.
“Two bedrooms for letting should be more
than enough.”
“There are
three guest bedrooms,” Henry said.
“And a large owner’s suite with a bedroom and a private sitting room.”
“Yes, but
Janet will need a room,” Joan pointed out.
“Oh, you’ll be
buying the house together, then?” he asked.
Janet and Joan
both laughed.
“We’ve lived
together pretty much our entire lives,” Joan told him.
“I can’t imagine that changing any time
soon.”
Henry
smiled.
“I couldn’t live with my
sister,” he said.
“But we never got
along, not even as children.
Anyway, how about having that look around?”
Joan headed
out of the foyer with Janet on her heels.
She glanced back at Henry and saw that he’d sat down on the small bench
by the front door and already had his mobile in his hand.
The foyer
opened into a large and comfortably furnished sitting room.
Henry was correct that the space could
use a coat of paint and some of the furniture was getting a bit shabby, but it
still looked comfortable.
Perhaps
it could simply be reupholstered rather than replaced, Janet thought.
“I don’t recall
telling him that we’re sisters,” Joan remarked.
“Everyone
always says we look so much alike that it’s obvious we’re sisters,” Janet
replied.
Janet could
feel Joan looking at her hard.
“I
don’t see the resemblance,” she said eventually, before heading off through the
door at the back of the room.
Janet shrugged
and then wandered over to inspect the two doors in the one wall.
A small closet was behind the first
door, and Janet wondered what they might keep in it.
It was empty, so she had no idea what
the previous owner had used it for.
The second
door opened into a small cloakroom and Janet took advantage of the mirror over
the sink to finger comb her hair.
Then
she studied her face, wondering just how much she really did resemble her
sister.
They were both
grey-haired, with the same bright blue eyes that they’d inherited from their
father.
Where Janet was plump and
always smiling, Joan was slender and more serious, but they were almost the
exact same height.
Neither had ever
married, although Janet had considered it on more than one occasion.
They’d both been schoolteachers in their
local village school for their entire working lives, and now they’d both
retired.
Janet pulled
her jumper down, smoothing it over her hips.
It didn’t seem fair that Joan was the
one who cooked and baked while she was the one who gained weight, she thought.
At least now she could dress for
comfort, rather than in the more formal outfits she’d worn for teaching.
Of course, Joan didn’t feel the same
way, still dressing in skirts or smart trousers every day as if she were just
about to have a classroom visit from the head teacher and the school governors.
“Janet, where
have you wandered off to?” Joan’s voice carried through the rooms.
“I’m just
looking at the cloakroom,” Janet called back, emerging back into the sitting
room.
“Well, come
and see what I’ve found,” Joan said.
The excitement
in her sister’s voice surprised Janet and she quickly followed Joan into the
next room.
This room was
also spacious and was set up as a television lounge, with a small television sitting
on a stand against the back wall.
Again, the furniture wasn’t new, but it looked comfortable.
“What’s so
exciting?” Janet asked, looking around, trying to spot what had excited Joan.
“Not this
room, that’s for sure,” Joan told her.
“Come see what’s back here.”
Janet followed
her sister through a small door and sighed with delight.
“It’s a tiny library,” she said softly.
It seemed as
if every inch of wall space was covered with shelves and every shelf was full
of books.
Janet stepped forward and
pulled a random title from the closest shelf.
“Agatha Christie,” she told her sister.
“There doesn’t
seem to be any order to the collection, but there are some very good books here,”
Joan told her.
“I’ve found several
old
favourites
.”
Janet knew
that that meant the classics.
They
were just about all that Joan read.
“But surely
they won’t be including the books in the sale of the property,” Janet said with
a sigh.
“Actually, the
current owner is willing to include them in the sale price,” Henry told them
from the doorway.
“They’re
including all of these books?” Joan asked.
“But some of them may be valuable.”
Henry
shrugged.
“The current owner is a
trust that isn’t interested in taking the time to go through the whole house in
case there might be something with a bit of extra value hidden away,” he
said.
“I guess the books came with
the house when Mrs. Appleton bought it anyway, and she left it just the way she
found it.”
