A Simple Country Tragedy Read online

  George then told me about all the car trouble he had been having while I was gone, and how grateful he was to be able to have a car that was functioning properly. He said it took him, Sidney Mason, and another man in the village nearly three days to distinguish the problem.

  “That Sidney, though. He’s a hard worker, isn’t he? Won’t take no for an answer, either. He said he was going to figure out what the problem was, and by Jove, he sure did.”

  “He is quite persistent, yes,” I said with a small laugh. “But very handy.”

  “Yes he certainly is,” George said. “I swear, that man knows something about everything, doesn’t he? Carpentry, electrical, plumbing, mechanical…it doesn’t matter what it is. If he can tinker with it, he can figure it out.”

  “A bit crazy, if you ask me,” I said, and George and I shared a laugh together.

  We arrived in Brookminster a short time later, and he dropped me off at home. “Glad you had a nice trip,” he said with a big smile. “But I’m sure it’s nice to be home again.”

  I looked up at the honey-colored cottage, the ivy curling up the northern walls, the shutters all thrown open to let the warm summer light in whenever it decided to make an appearance. It certainly was home.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling more relieved upon my return than when I’d left. “It is nice to be back.”

  I said goodbye to George, who got back into his car after depositing my suitcase in the house for me, and drove off back into town.

  I dragged my suitcase back up the stairs, and decided it was best to spend my time unpacking, as opposed to allowing my clothes to stay folded up inside, just waiting for me to get them nice and clean once again.

  Setting a kettle on the burner, I went about getting my home in order. I noticed Irene had left a small package of leftovers in my ice box, ready for me to enjoy for dinner that evening.

  I smiled. Irene, ever thoughtful.

  I was pouring some tea into a mug for myself when I heard a knock somewhere downstairs.

  Pausing, I turned my ear toward the door leading downstairs.

  The knock came again.

  I rolled my eyes, tension gripping the muscles in my back. I just returned home. If this is a customer, then I sincerely hope they have a very good reason for –

  But it wasn’t a customer. It was Sidney Mason’s smiling face in the window beside my back door. He was holding onto the straps of a bag, which hung over his shoulder.

  I unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Sidney, hello,” I said.

  He grinned. “I saw your lights on, figured you must’ve gotten home. I’m not interrupting, am I?”

  “Oh, no, it’s quite all right,” I said, stepping aside. “Would you care for some tea? I just made a fresh kettle.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” he said. “It’ll give me a chance to get out of this rain that’s coming.”

  We walked up to my flat, hearing the thunder roll outside, making the glass in the windows tremble.

  “My goodness, I think we are in for quite the storm,” Sidney said, smiling as we reached the landing in the kitchen.

  More thunder growled, like a hunting lion, up above.

  “I think you are right,” I said. I walked over to the kettle, retrieved a second cup from my cupboard, and began to pour some tea for him.

  “When did you arrive home?” he asked.

  “Oh, not even an hour ago,” I said, bringing our tea over to the table before turning to fetch the sugar. “I’m afraid I don’t have any cream.”

  “That’s quite all right,” he said. “I can drink it black. Not a problem.”

  I took the seat across from him, my heart caught in my throat.

  He really was a handsome man. His eyes were so clear, and the golden hues in his ginger hair revealed his recent days out in the sunshine. His beard had grown in somewhat since I’d left.

  I loved the way his freckles spread across his face when he smiled, which he was doing now. “I hope I am not bothering you, coming over as soon as you were home. I thought perhaps you had returned yesterday and I just hadn’t seen you.”

  “No, today,” I said.

  He smiled. “It’s good to see you, you know. A week seemed like a great deal of time.”

  My heart warmed at his words. “It’s good to see you, too, Sidney,” I said.

  “How was your trip?” he asked, bringing his tea to his lips. “Did you manage to find any of the answers you were looking for?”

  I opened my mouth to talk about the fascinating trip I’d had…when something at the back of my mind made me catch myself. I remembered Patrick’s words, urging me to keep the things I’d learned secret, reminding me that I was one of the very few people privy to the information I now knew.

  I liked Sidney. I really did. But that didn’t mean I needed to share every piece of information that I’d learned with him. He was not very forthcoming with information about his own life, after all. There was no reason to have to reveal anything that I’d discovered.

  I smiled, looking down into my teacup. “It was absolutely wonderful to see a friend of Roger’s, and to share some good memories about him. It was cathartic. There were some emotional moments, especially when we all talked about his death, and what our lives had been without him since…” I said. “To be honest, I feel much more at peace with everything. I think it’s precisely the trip I needed.”

  Sidney nodded, but his gaze was striking as he searched my face. He remained quiet, as if expecting me to carry on.

  I took a cautious sip of my tea, checking to make sure it wasn’t too hot, but also to avoid having to say any more.

  For a moment I could have sworn I saw his eyes narrowing. The expression passed quickly, though, and he smiled again. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Really. Oh, before I forget…”

  He reached down to the pack he’d set down at his feet, unzipped it, and procured a small package wrapped in brown paper.

  “It’s nothing much, just a bit of bread I made this afternoon,” he said. “I made too much, so I thought I’d bring some over and see if you were home.”

  I took the package. The bread was still warm within.

  I smiled at him. “Thank you, Sidney. It really is good to be home.”

  He smiled back at me. “It’s good to have you back, and I know I speak for everyone when I say that.”

  6

  The next morning was Monday, which I was grateful for, as I had planned on having the shop closed for one more day. I had everything all planned for a relaxing time for myself. I wanted to rearrange some of my clothes, and work on a new project I had been inspired to work on when I had seen one of Lily’s dresses.

  I wanted to enjoy a hot, luxurious bath, and read a book out in my back garden…as long as Sidney was out working that day and not at home, otherwise I knew I would spend all afternoon talking with him.

  It had been pleasant seeing him the night before. I thought it sweet, even, that he had noticed my lights on and decided to come and see me. Not to mention the bread he’d brought to me was absolutely delicious.

  He said that nothing exciting had happened to my house during the week, and he had kept a very close eye on it. I knew he certainly would have, and it was a relief to know that nothing else had happened in my absence. It wasn’t as if my mysterious burglar could have stolen much more. If they were after the letters, they had found what they wanted.

  Something told me that the thief wouldn’t be back to bother me anytime soon.

  I was just about to sit down in my back room with my sewing machine when the telephone rang.

  I made my way out to the kitchen, wondering who it could be. Did anyone even know I was home yet?

  “Hello?” I said, picking the phone up off the receiver.

  “Helen?” said the voice. “It’s Sam Graves calling.”

  My eyes widened. “Sam? Well, hello.”

  “Hello,” he repeated, then cleared his throat. A phone rang somewhere in the backgroun
d, and I heard someone yelling at someone else. “I, um…I wasn’t sure if you were home from your trip or not. I thought I remembered you saying that you came in on Sunday evening.”

  “I did,” I said. “Arrived home yesterday afternoon.”

  “Very good,” he said.

  There was a pause on the other end, and I would have thought the call had been cut off had it not been for the sound of someone typing on a typewriter, or the cackling laughter of some woman.

  “Well, I was calling to see if you were busy this afternoon,” he said. “Have you reopened your shop yet?”

  “No, not yet,” I said, my brow creasing. “I was giving myself a day to get settled back into life here.”

  He said, “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to bother you if you had other plans, but I was wondering if you might be available for lunch.”

  I blinked, my eyes unfocused on the room around me. Did he…ask me out to lunch? “For what?” I asked, suddenly nervous. “Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yes of course, everything is perfectly fine,” he said. “I was – well, I simply wanted to – I suppose I was just wondering how your trip back to London was, and if you were able to find out anything that you had been searching for.”

  “Oh,” I said. I glanced over at the clock. “Well, I suppose I could meet you for lunch. What time, and where should we meet?”

  Sam cleared his throat. “How about in an hour? At the inn?”

  “I can do that,” I said.

  “Wonderful,” Sam said. “I’ll see you there soon.”

  As I hung up, I felt confused. That was a rather formal invitation…wasn’t it? It certainly didn’t feel like how he would normally ask me to do things with him…

  I brushed my hair from my eyes, trying to collect my thoughts.

  As I made my way back toward my room, and more aptly, toward my closet, I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Was this…was this a romantic outing?

  Did I just agree to step out with Sam Graves?

  That was quite a revelation. And quite the turn of events.

  But that couldn’t be right…could it?

  I thought back to the night when we had been driving to go and speak with Evangeline, the daughter of Abigail Lowell who had been killed some weeks before. He had made some mention about how I wouldn’t have been a bad dinner companion, and had been rather sheepish about it.

  During our phone call, as well, he seemed nervous.

  Sam Graves? Nervous? It seemed like an oxymoron.

  Or was it possible that I was misunderstanding his intentions entirely?

  That was likely the truth. This couldn’t be a romantic engagement. It was probably something more business related, knowing Sam.

  I got ready as I usually would, but found I spent a little bit of extra time on my hair, trying a hairstyle that I had seen Lily wear that I rather liked. I used a new lipstick that I’d been saving for a special occasion. I wore a dress in an emerald green that brought out the blue in my eyes.

  There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to look nice, I thought as I held up earrings against my dress to find the pair that looked the best. This isn’t anything romantic. I wouldn’t have wanted it to be romantic in the first place.

  …Or would I?

  If I was honest, I wasn’t sure which I wanted it to be.

  I decided it was best not to agonize over it until I knew for sure. I needed to see how he would react to me.

  I headed out to the inn a short time later, more nervous than I had expected to be. I tried to gather my emotions as I walked down High Street, the Honey and Rose coming into view. It was as charming as ever, perhaps even more so given the sunlight glinting off the windows, and all the beautiful pink geraniums growing in the flower boxes beneath the windows of the upper story.

  I pushed the front door open, and stepped inside the inn.

  Heavenly scents of rosemary and sage reached me as soon as I walked over the threshold. I wasn’t sure if it was bread, or some sort of roasted meat, or perhaps even some sort of vegetable, but regardless, it smelled so good that it made my mouth water.

  “Helen Lightholder.”

  I turned and saw Sam rising from a chair beside the door. He adjusted his jacket, which was not at all the one I usually saw him wearing at the police station.

  “Good afternoon, Inspector Graves,” I said.

  He walked up to me, his piercing blue eyes gluing me to the spot, as if freezing me in place. “I trust you are well?”

  “I am, yes,” I said, surprised once again by his formality. “And yourself?”

  “I am well,” he said. “Shall we go to our table?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  He turned rather rigidly, and headed toward the dining room.

  My stomach twisted in knots, but I followed after.

  Mrs. Diggory was there, clearing some empty tankards from a table near the bar. She looked up as we entered. “Oh, Inspector Graves. Did you still wish to have the table nearest the fireplace?”

  He looked over at me for clarification.

  “Oh,” I said, my face turning pink. “That’s perfectly fine.”

  “Then yes,” he said. “That sounds fine to me, as well.”

  “Wonderful,” Mrs. Diggory said. “Come over here, then.”

  She set us down, and brought us cool glasses of water to drink. “The meal for the day is a roasted turkey with potatoes, brussels sprouts, and minced meat pie. Does that sound all right with you both?”

  “Yes, that sounds good,” Sam said.

  I nodded as well. “Yes, it sounds delicious.”

  Mrs. Diggory smiled, and turned, heading toward the door down to the kitchens.

  Sam’s gaze was fixed on the far wall, his fingers drumming on the table.

  I watched him, seeing the stiffness in his shoulders, the clenching of his jaw…

  “Is everything all right, Sam?” I asked.

  He flinched, as if surprised. He looked over at me, and a rather stern expression appeared on his face. “Yes,” he said, trying to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace. “How was your trip? Did you find what you were looking for about your late husband?”

  I had a familiar feeling, blinking up at him. Hadn’t Sidney asked me very nearly the same question?

  “Oh, it was a very nice trip,” I said. “Getting a chance to spend time with people who really knew and loved Roger was comforting. It gave me a chance to grieve a bit with those who understood where my pain was coming from. We shared a lot of happy memories, though, and I came home feeling more at peace.”

  Sam studied my face for a moment, but I watched as his shoulders began to relax finally. A smile, a very small smile, appeared, and he nodded. “I’m glad you were able to find some peace,” he said. “Having closure after the death of a loved one is important, and can bring great healing.”

  “That’s very true,” I said. “That’s how I am choosing to look at it.”

  He gave me a sidelong look. “What about…well, you know.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “The questions you were going to ask,” he said. “The whole reason for the trip.”

  “Oh…” I said. “Yes, well…I think I was looking for answers in the wrong place. Or thinking there were questions that never really existed in the first place.”

  I waited, not wanting to say anything further. If I did, I would be lying, and I knew he would be able to see straight through me. Not that I was obligated to tell him anything, but it was easier if he just dropped it and allowed me to keep my own secrets.

  He searched my face, and seemed to understand that was precisely what I was trying to do.

  “Well, I suppose that must also be a comfort to you,” Sam said as the footsteps of Mrs. Diggory returned from the doorway down to the kitchen, a tray in her hands. “You can finally put all of that to rest.”

  “I certainly hope so,” I said, smiling up at Mrs. Diggory as she delivered some bread and t
ea to our table.

  After enjoying some of the freshly baked bread, and accepting the proffered tea, Sam sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck with his large hand.

  “Everything all right?” I asked, stirring another cube of sugar into my cup.

  “Well…there were some interesting things that happened this week while you were gone,” he said.

  “Oh dear,” I said, my eyes widening. “Something tells me that when you say interesting, you really mean something very different.”

  He gave me an amused look. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”

  “So…what happened?” I asked.

  He sighed, leaning forward on the table. “You aren’t going to believe this,” he said, looking over at me. “But there was another death in the village.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. I’d been home for an entire day, and hadn’t heard a peep. But more than that…

  “I was only gone for six days,” I said. “How is it something like that could have happened in the short time I was gone?”

  Sam scratched his chin. “I imagine it still would have happened had you stayed. You just would have learned about it sooner.”

  “I’m surprised Irene didn’t call me and tell me…” I said. “When was it?”

  “About four nights ago now,” Sam said. There was a heaviness in his words that troubled me.

  “What exactly happened?” I asked.

  “Well…it seems the victim was coming home late from the pub. We heard from several witnesses that he had been there well after midnight. When we found his body, it was… Well, there is no doubt in any of our minds that he was killed violently.”

  I swallowed hard, my throat growing tight.

  “If you don’t want me to tell you, especially over a meal…” he said.

  “No, it’s all right,” I said. “Unless you don’t want to tell me.”

  “That’s not it,” he said. “The victim appears to have been strangled, with something akin to a chain, or a cable wire. Not only that, but there were bruises all over his abdomen, suggesting that some of his ribs had been broken, likely from a fight before his death.”