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- Herausgeber: Bastei Entertainment
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Serie: Countryside Mysteries: A Cosy Shorts Series
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Miss Marple meets Oscar Wilde in this new series of cosy mysteries set in the picturesque Cotswolds village of Bunburry.
It’s party time in Bunburry! The deluxe Magnolia Inn is hosting surprise birthday celebrations for Bunburry’s favourite senior citizens, Liz and Marge. But the party is not the only surprise. A glamorous widow, Francesca Fairfax Adams, is staying in the Magnolia Inn, and catches the eye of self-made man and amateur sleuth Alfie McAlister.
But Alfie’s best friend, Oscar de Linnet, down from London for the party, knows Francesca of old, and has some shocking news about her. Alfie is reluctant to believe him and decides to discover the truth for himself... Is this investigation putting himself and Oscar in terrible danger?
Helena Marchmont is a pseudonym of Olga Wojtas, who was born and brought up in Edinburgh. She was encouraged to write by an inspirational English teacher, Iona M. Cameron. Olga won a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award in 2015 and recently published her second book in the Miss Blaine mystery series.
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Contents
Bunburry – A Cosy Mystery Series
Miss Marple meets Oscar Wilde in this new series of cosy mysteries set in the picturesque Cotswolds village of Bunburry. In “Murderous Ride,” the second Bunburry book, Alfie discovers that he has not only inherited a cottage from his late Aunt Augusta but also a 1950s Jaguar. He is dismayed: for reasons of his own, he no longer drives. Aunt Augusta’s best friends, Liz and Marge, persuade him to get behind the wheel again – but that’s just the start of his troubles.
About the Book
It’s party time in Bunburry! The deluxe Magnolia Inn is hosting surprise birthday celebrations for Bunburry’s favourite senior citizens, Liz and Marge. But the party is not the only surprise. A glamorous widow, Francesca Fairfax Adams, is staying in the Magnolia Inn, and catches the eye of self-made man and amateur sleuth Alfie McAlister. But Alfie’s best friend, Oscar de Linnet, down from London for the party, knows Francesca of old, and has some shocking news about her. Alfie is reluctant to believe him and decides to discover the truth for himself … Is this investigation putting himself and Oscar in terrible danger?
The Author
Helena Marchmont is a pseudonym of Olga Wojtas, who was born and brought up in Edinburgh. She was encouraged to write by an inspirational English teacher, Iona M. Cameron. Olga won a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award in 2015, has had more than 30 short stories published in magazines and anthologies and recently published her first mystery Miss Blaine’s Prefect and the Golden Samovar.
Cast
Alfie McAlister flees the hustle and bustle of London for the peace and quiet of the Cotswolds. Unfortunately, the “heart of England” turns out to be deadlier than expected …
Margaret “Marge” Redwood and Clarissa “Liz” Hopkins have lived in Bunburry their entire lives, where they are famous for their exceptional fudge-making skills. Between Afternoon Tea and Gin o’clock they relish a bit of sleuthing …
Emma Hollis loves her job as policewoman, the only thing she is tired of are her aunt Liz’s constant attempts at matchmaking.
Betty Thorndike is a fighter. Mostly for animal rights. She’s the sole member of Bunburry’s Green Party.
Oscar de Linnet lives in London and is Alfie’s best friend. He tries luring Alfie back to the City because: “anybody can be good in the country. There are no temptations there.”
Augusta Lytton is Alfie’s aunt. She’s dead. But still full of surprises …
Harold Wilson loves a pint (or two) more than his job as local police sergeant.
BUNBURRY is a picturesque Cotswolds village, where sinister secrets lurk beneath the perfect façade …
HELENA MARCHMONT
Poison Ivy
“Men always want to be a woman’s first love – women like to be a man’s last romance.”
Oscar Wilde
Prologue
She opened the wardrobe door and reached behind a row of shoes to retrieve the box. She laid it on the dressing table, admiring the carved wood, the delicate brass clasps and hinges.
She had been given it when she was a child by an elderly uncle, who said it had been made specially for the most beautiful girl in the world. And only that girl would be able to open it. She smiled as she remembered opening it without difficulty, giving a cry of delight: “It’s me! I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.”
She had resolved there and then that it would contain her most precious objects. And now it did. She took out a piece of tissue paper and unfolded it to reveal a lock of brown hair, tied with a scarlet thread. Toby, her first proper boyfriend. They had been teenagers, but even so, wasn’t it a bit cheesy to have a lock of his hair? She stroked it against her cheek. No, not cheesy. Romantic.
Wrapping it once again in the tissue paper, she replaced it in the box, and surveyed the other contents, smiling as she relived the memories, although she felt a little sad, considering how each one had ended.
She picked out a gold signet ring. Linus. Such a sweet man. She slipped the ring onto her wedding finger, stretching out her hand to study it. The ring didn’t suit her. It was too chunky, too masculine for her slender fingers. But it was still a memento; he didn’t need it now.
She removed the ring and took out the largest object in the box, a briarwood pipe. When she held it up to her face, she could still smell the tobacco. Clayton. Smoking a pipe was such an old-fashioned thing to do, but with him it seemed natural. So few people smoked at all nowadays, probably worried about the health risks. But everyone had to die of something.
She began to close the lid, then stopped, and carefully rearranged the cherished objects. The box was almost full, but there was still room for a few more keepsakes.
1. The Drunken Horse
“Well, well, well. Alfie McAlister.”
Alfie turned to see Edith, the elderly mother of the owner of The Drunken Horse Inn, approaching the secluded booth with a glint in her eye.
“Let me give that table a wipe,” she said, wielding her cloth quite unnecessarily, since Alfie had placed the four glasses on beer mats without spilling a drop.
Her gaze flitted from Alfie, with his pint of Bunburry Brew, to Emma with her half pint, then to Sumi with her glass of white wine, and Tara with her glass of red.
“This all looks very cosy,” she remarked. “I hope you girls aren’t falling for his chat-up lines.”
“Not a line to be heard,” said Alfie. “We’re just good friends.”
“Sometimes not even that,” said Emma, raising a cackle from Edith.
“And I thought he was having a last go at playing the field before his girlfriend got back,” she said.
Emma’s glass landed awkwardly on the table, slopping some beer over the rim. “Betty’s coming back?” she asked as Edith dabbed at the spillage.
The elderly woman put her hands on her hips. “He hasn’t told you, then? That’s a bit suspicious, isn’t it?”
Alfie was still trying to process what she had said. Was it good news or bad? He had been quite composed about the prospect of Betty’s return when it was hypothetical. Now it seemed to be happening, he could feel his mouth go dry.
“I didn’t know anything about it,” he said, aware that he was talking faster than usual. “When’s she arriving?”
Edith put on a pious expression. “It’s not my place to say. She’s a smart girl, that Betty, planning to catch you unawares and see what you’re up to behind her back.”
Cackling again, she headed for the bar.
“You didn’t know anything about it?” said Emma to Alfie. She wasn’t wearing her police uniform, but her tone was well suited to interviewing a suspect. Alfie might be fifteen years older than her, but she had never shown any respect for his age.
“Not a thing,” he insisted. “I haven’t heard from her since she left.”
That wasn’t strictly true. There had been one postcard, making it clear that whatever he might have imagined, they had no future together.
Sumi and Tara, one petite and black-haired, the other a rangy blonde, were watching him with undisguised interest.
“You never said you had a girlfriend,” said Tara.
“I don’t,” said Alfie. “It’s just Edith’s little joke.”
Sumi turned to Emma. “Is this what he does, pretends to be footloose and fancy free?”
“He certainly tells everyone that Betty isn’t his girlfriend, but I’m not sure whether he’s told her,” said Emma.
“Is he blushing?” asked Tara.
“I think so,” said Sumi. “We must be embarrassing him.”
“Fun, isn’t it?” said Emma.
Alfie cleared his throat. “Enjoy your drinks,” he said. “They could be the last I buy you for a while.” He tried to maintain a stern expression but failed, largely because he could see they weren’t even pretending to take him seriously.
Sumi nudged Tara. “We’d better stop upsetting him. Heaven knows when we’ll be able to afford our own.”
Alfie laughed. “How are the bookings going?”
Tara nodded. “Good. Slow, but good. We decided not to open with a big fanfare, but we’re being strategic about where we advertise, and the first guests are about to arrive. We’ve even got a booking for the other suite.”
Alfie still hadn’t had a proper tour of the new hotel on the outskirts of Bunburry, a former mansion now transformed into the Magnolia Inn, celebrating its avenue of magnolia trees. But he knew that it included two suites: one available for bookings, and one reserved, apparently in perpetuity, for his best friend, Oscar de Linnet.
“Any word from Oscar?” he asked.
“Sorry to interrupt.” It was Emma, not sounding remotely sorry. “Do any of you remember that I actually asked you here?”
Tara and Sumi immediately switched their attention to her.
“I can’t believe we got distracted,” said Tara. “We practically ran, we were so excited. Is it a murder?”
“No,” said Emma heavily. “It’s not a murder. If it was, I would be contacting forensics, not you three.”
Alfie felt this was unfair, given that he, Tara and Sumi had managed to catch a murderer not so long ago. He felt doubly snubbed, since along with Liz Hopkins and Marge Redwood, he was a member of the Bunburry Triangle, which had solved a number of local murders.
“A stake-out, then?” asked Sumi. “We’re quite busy with the hotel opening, but I’m sure we can manage something.”
“It’s got absolutely nothing to do with crime or police work,” said Emma, and the other two women looked deflated.
“Oh,” said Sumi. “But you said you wanted our help.”
Alfie suspected that if he had made the remark, Emma would have rolled her eyes and said something sarcastic. But she gave Sumi and Tara a reassuring smile and said: “With the hotel.” Alfie decided not to ask where this left him.
“It’s for Aunt Liz and Aunt Marge,” Emma went on.
Liz was in fact Emma’s great-aunt, and Liz’s best friend Marge was no relative at all, but Emma always gave her the honorific.
“Aunt Liz has a significant birthday next Saturday. I can’t tell you how significant, or I’d have to kill you, since otherwise she’d kill me. Aunt Marge’s birthday is in a couple of weeks, and I wondered if we could do something at the Magnolia Inn.”
The two hoteliers exchanged delighted looks.
“Next Saturday?” said Tara. “Of course. What about a dinner? On the house, obviously. Our menu’s pretty exciting. The English-Korean fusion has really worked.”
“They could stay overnight if they wanted,” put in Sumi.
Alfie sensed a rare awkwardness in Emma.
“I was hoping for a bit more,” she said.
Sumi and Tara’s enthusiastic expressions didn’t falter for a second, and Alfie reflected that they were hospitality professionals.
“What were you thinking of?” asked Tara.
“I thought – with it being a significant birthday – maybe a party? You know, a sort of village event?”
It was only momentary, but Alfie saw a definite look of alarm in both women’s eyes.
Emma had seen it too. “I don’t mean for free,” she said hastily. “And I don’t mean the whole village. Obviously, you couldn’t cope with that. I thought of limiting it to close friends, say about a hundred people?”
“We’re just opening then – I’m afraid that would really be too tight,” said Tara. “What if we leave it until Marge’s birthday, in a couple of weeks?”
But Sumi, a sudden determined tilt to her chin, broke in: “We’ll do it. After all, Liz is the one with the significant birthday. It’s not fair to ask her to wait.”
“But with the first guests arriving, we really can’t-” protested Tara.
“Come on, girl, you love a challenge,” said Sumi. “We were always meaning to expand into a wedding venue at some point, and this will be good practice. And it’ll be great to showcase the place to people round here. If they like it, it might encourage them to come in for meals, and recommend us to other people. There’s nothing like word of mouth to build a business.”
Alfie knew all about building a business. His own start-up had been so successful that he had been able to sell it for a sum that meant he no longer had to work for a living. But he well remembered the initial cashflow challenges.
“How much do you think it would cost?” Emma asked. “My budget’s a bit limited, but I could always raid the station’s coffee fund.”
One hundred people at ten pounds a head would be a thousand pounds, and Alfie suspected that a venue like the Magnolia Inn would be a great deal more expensive.
As though a thought had just struck him, he said: “Emma, would you mind if I came in on this as well? I’m no good at choosing presents, and contributing to the party would be a great solution.”
He sensed an immediate relaxation in the atmosphere.
“Yes, sure,” said Emma, and he glimpsed a “thank you” in her eyes.
“And Oscar.” Alfie pressed on. “I know he’d want to mark the birthdays, and he’s getting free board and lodging, so he might as well stump up a couple of quid.” He turned to Tara and Sumi. “Could you email me some costings that I could run past him?”
“That depends on what you want,” said Sumi.
“A party,” said Emma. “With food and a bar.”
“You two are the experts,” Alfie intervened. “Why don’t you give us an idea of what you’d do for a wedding, and we’ll take it from there. Just miss out the harpist playing Wind Beneath My Wings.”
Sumi finished her glass of wine. “Come on,” she said to Tara. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“I still wish Emma had asked us here because of a murder,” said Tara.
Careful what you wish for, Alfie thought.
Emma was reaching for her jacket, preparing to follow the other women out of the pub. But he needed to talk to her.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked.
She smiled at him with such warmth that he was momentarily taken aback. She generally seemed to view him as a rather dim older brother.
“For you, at least two,” she said. “It’s wonderful that you’re going to help pay for the party.” And suddenly the smile was replaced by a look of dismay.
“That wasn’t why I invited you here,” she said quickly.
“Never crossed my mind,” he assured her.
“I just– I wanted you to be in on the plans. You’re like family.”
Yes, she definitely viewed him as a rather dim older brother.
“I’d been thinking of having a party in The Horse,” she said. “But there wouldn’t have been room for everyone, and then it came to me that the Magnolia Inn would be perfect. Thank goodness I hadn’t mentioned it to Edith. But sorry, what was it you wanted to talk about?”
What he wanted to talk about could wait. She had just given him a perfect topic.
“Some of Liz and Marge’s friends are a bit staid,” he said. “They might not appreciate the Magnolia Inn’s fusion cuisine. And if Tara and Sumi weren’t planning on having an event this big so soon, their kitchen staff might not be up to it. What do you think about joint catering, the hotel and The Horse?”
“You’re full of good ideas today,” she said. “That’s brilliant. The food will be fabulous, Edith and Carlotta competing with one another to produce the best vol-au-vents.”
Alfie grinned. Edith and her Italian daughter-in-law already competed ferociously in The Horse, particularly now that Carlotta had turned vegan and Edith’s repertoire was firmly carnivorous.
“Should we ask them now?” he said.
“Don’t drag me into it,” said Emma. “I’m not going to ask Edith to cater for a party that’s taking place in a rival establishment. But you can wind her round your little finger. Tell her she’s the only woman for you, the way you do when she says Betty’s your girlfriend.”
That gave Alfie the opening for what he really wanted to talk about. Yet again, he pretended to have a sudden thought.
“Speaking of Betty, did you have a lot of tidying up to do?” he asked.
“Tidying up?” repeated Emma, as though he was talking in a foreign language.
“After the break-in at her cottage,” Alfie elaborated.
“Her cottage,” said Emma thoughtfully. “I checked up on it just the other day. That’s a fine new front door you had installed for her. It almost made me wish somebody would break into my cottage, so you could buy me a front door as well.”
There was a smile on her face, but Alfie got the impression it was mocking rather than amused.
“She wasn’t here to sort things out. I thought a temporary repair would make her cottage more vulnerable, since it’s so isolated,” said Alfie.
“Good point. Thank goodness the note you’ve left on the door telling her to come to you for the keys doesn’t make it vulnerable at all.”
Alfie tried to ignore this. “The guy who broke in,” he said. “It sounded as though he had been living there, so I thought he might have damaged the place inside as well. And you dusted for fingerprints, didn’t you? You’ve said the powder leaves a residue.”
“It does,” said Emma. “It gets everywhere. Makes a terrible mess.”
“That’s why I wondered whether you’d had to do a lot of tidying up.”
Emma looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, without speaking. Then she said: “You know there are people who dial 999 because their pizza hasn’t been delivered on time? Don’t be like those people.”
“I won’t,” Alfie promised. “But I don’t quite see-”
“Alfie, our job as police officers is to enforce the law, prevent crime, respond to emergencies, and protect and help the community. Helping the community doesn’t include tidying up. That’s the responsibility of the occupier.” She paused. “Or the occupier’s boyfriend.”
“I’m not Betty’s-” he began, and stopped abruptly when he saw her smile broaden. “Right, okay. Understood.”
She reached for her jacket and this time put it on. “I’m off to sort out the invitation list. Good luck with Edith.”
Edith was taking a break in the small back room of The Horse, which she used as her personal refuge. She was occupying the sole armchair, and Alfie took the straight-backed wooden chair by the desk.
She looked at him keenly. “Not often I get a visit from a handsome young man. What are you after?”
“Liz has a significant birthday coming up,” he began.
“Does she? Oh yes, it’s this year, isn’t it? We’re none of us getting any younger. I’m fit for nothing but the knacker’s yard.”
“What is this?” Carlotta paused in the open doorway. “You are more fit than any of us, mammina mia. Ah, Alfie, how are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks-”
“Alfie’s here because it’s going to be Liz’s birthday soon,” interrupted Edith. “Goodness, it must be next Saturday. He wants a bit of a do for her, don’t you, Alfie? And that you shall have, despite the short notice. Leave it to us. What time do you want to come in?”
Alfie quailed. “We’re not – that is, we are, but – what I mean is, the party itself is going to be in the Magnolia Inn.”
Carlotta’s dark eyes flashed. Oscar had dubbed her “the tempestuous Carlotta,” and right now, it seemed an accurate description. She stormed into the room to stand protectively at her mother-in-law’s side.
“You come to say you no want a party here?” Carlotta’s English tended to disintegrate at moments of high emotion. “You think we no good?”
Edith grasped her hand and stroked it soothingly. “Now then, I’m sure Alfie has more to say.”
“I no want to hear more. I tell my William to bar him.”
Carlotta made as though to leave, presumably to get William to impose the sanction immediately, but Edith tightened her grip.
“Don’t talk daft. Alfie’s one of our best customers.” She nodded to him, indicating that he should speak.
“It’s because it’s a Saturday,” he improvised. “We couldn’t ask you to close the place for a party and disappoint all your regulars.”
Carlotta’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing, which Alfie hoped meant she conceded that it was a valid point.
“And The Horse is an institution,” he went on. “Those two young women are just starting out, and they can only dream of becoming as successful as you. We thought we should put a bit of business their way. And of course, if they attract more guests, those guests will want to enjoy a pint in a traditional English pub.”
“Not just a pint,” sniffed Edith. “They’ll want to come here for a decent meal, not that fusion nonsense.”
“That’s exactly it,” said Alfie, lowering his voice confidentially. “Everyone here loves your food.” He made sure he included both Edith and Carlotta in his look of approbation. “We would be incredibly grateful if you could help with the buffet, so the guests will have things they’ll enjoy.”
“Perfetto!” exclaimed Carlotta, as enthusiastic now as she had been enraged. “I make rainbow spring rolls, corn fritters, aubergine pâté-”
“They don’t want your vegan muck,” scoffed Edith. “Things they’ll enjoy, he said. That means sausage rolls, prawn vol-au-vents, bacon wraps-”
“It all sounds wonderful,” said Alfie. “Thank you – Liz and Marge will be delighted. I’ll get Emma to confirm numbers with you as soon as possible.” He paused. “Edith, were you serious when you said Betty was coming back?”
The elderly woman chuckled. “She really was hoping to take you by surprise, then? I got it from Philip, so it must be true – vicars don’t fib. She told him she’d be home this week. He’s all excited about her starting up the Green Party meetings again. He’s going to bring Haridasa along.”
