A Forgotten Murder (Medlar Mystery 3)
“Perfect idea. Give me a couple of hours.”
As Sara left the room, she texted a single word to Kate. Bella.
Twenty-Nine
Jack and Kate stopped for lunch at a pub in a pretty village. They sat in a little walled garden that was heavy with the scent of roses.
“Puck would like this,” Jack said.
“She would. I wonder how she’s getting along in London.”
“I think that without her mother, she may blossom like one of these roses.”
“I hope she stops hiding in trees.” Kate was looking down at her plate. “Think Aunt Sara is okay without us?”
“I think she’s probably doing exceptionally well.”
She looked up at him. “It was like she couldn’t wait for us to leave. Not like she wanted peace, but like she wanted to do something.”
Jack frowned. “Something she doesn’t want us to know about? Something dangerous that she wants to protect us from?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Kate said.
Jack lowered his voice. “The inspector said Mrs. Aiken was screaming that she had nothing to do with Mr. Howland’s death. She said he was a nice man. He used to compliment her cooking and gave her a silk jacket from Japan. She said he didn’t deserve to die.”
“Unlike Sean, who did?”
“Welcome to the evil logic of Mrs. Aiken.”
Kate didn’t say anything for a moment. “What do you think Aunt Sara is investigating all by herself?” When Jack didn’t answer, she looked at him. “Mr. Howland,” she said softly.
“Someone was trying to get rid of us.”
“You don’t think Mrs. Aiken was the one who made Clive think a billionaire client wanted him back in London? And the party for Nadine?”
“Mrs. Aiken thinks Cambridge is a big city. I can’t see her dealing with a bank in London or lord somebody.” Jack looked at her. “Remember when we first met Mr. Howland?”
“Very well,” Kate said.
“He mentioned a woman named Thelma Thompson.”
“Who used to work at Oxley,” Kate said.
“I was curious about her so I did a search of the name. It’s too common to come up with anything, but then Puck helped me. She knew where there was a tax list of employees—with their addresses.”
“How very interesting,” Kate said. “You wouldn’t happen to know where she lives now, would you?”
“As a matter of fact, I believe she lives with her mother in a cottage about eight miles from here.”
“What a coincidence. I wondered why you were so set on a scenic route.”
Jack gave a bit of a smile. “It is remarkable, isn’t it? You—” He broke off because Kate stood up.
“We are losing daylight. Let’s go.” She signaled the waitress. “Could we have a dozen of these lovely scones to go? We’re going to visit someone.”
* * *
It was raining hard by the time they found the cottage. The building was what the English called “chocolate box” meaning it was cute enough to be on a box of candy. It had a stone path through a garden that was a mix of fruit trees and tall flowers that stood upright in the rain.