Behind two royal blue front doors, one originally the entrance to a single row cottage on Pond Street, the other to the cottage next door, the Burke sisters’ Leaves of Comfort waited, warm, fragrant and ready to serve the best afternoon teas for miles around. Or it would be in a couple of hours.
Tony opened the car door for Alex and she hopped out. They’d dropped the two dogs at Corner Cottage with Lily. Prepared for questions, Alex had been grateful when her mum took the animals in with nothing more than a smile and a ‘See you later. We’ll probably be across the road.’ She meant she would take the dogs to the pub when she went to work.
What could possibly make a woman feel more tightly strung than she already did, Alex wondered. The past couple of days came and went from her mind in vivid bursts. And mixed up feelings followed in their wake.
‘Alex?’
She started and said, ‘Yes?’ He must have said something she didn’t hear. ‘I was miles away.’
‘I saw that. We’re being watched. Which means they’re waiting for us. Are you certain we’re not in for a grilling ourselves?’
‘That’s the routine,’ Alex said, waving at Harriet in the window of their upstairs sitting room. ‘But no, I’m not sure they aren’t just popping to find out something about us. We’re old enough to manage that without having nervous breakdowns.’
The window opened a crack. ‘Door’s open. Come on up. Tea ready when you are. Battenberg and Eccles freshly delivered. And some of your Bourbon biscuits, Tony.’
‘Thank you,’ Alex and Tony called back together.
‘Bag of books at the bottom of the stairs. Take them or leave them. Up to you.’ Harriet snickered as she shut the window again.
‘That had better be as snide as it gets,’ Tony said, although he couldn’t suppress a grin.
Inside, the two cottages had been knocked into one. The small kitchen was only intended for making hot tea and coffee and heating pies or occasionally soup. A great array of cakes and pastries was delivered fresh from George’s Bakery each day.
Decorated with a crocheted antimacassar that dipped to many points, a shelf ran around the walls to hold books, mostly used, hand-knitted items, teapots complete with cozies used as occasional bookends, knitted animals and dolls, and myriad small china or glass ornaments. Every table was different, antique and for sale, as were the tablecloths made by local needle workers. The place did a brisk business every day from three to six although appointments could be made to view items on sale at other times.
‘What’s keeping you,’ Mary called down. ‘Oliver’s getting impatient.’
Their rangy tabby cat didn’t give a fig for anyone but the sisters. ‘Coming,’ Alex said and picked up the promised bag of books before climbing the stairs with Tony behind her.
As usual, Mary sat in an armchair facing the window. All of the overstuffed furniture, mostly in shades of deep pink or red, was covered with slightly faded velvet. The couch sagged in each of its three possible seats. A fire brightened the room.
‘Sit down,’ Mary said. ‘Tea’s on its way.’ She was looking the wrong way to see her younger sister roll her eyes while carrying a teapot in one hand and dangling a tiered cake plate by its top ring with the other.
Harriet set her burdens on a much polished tea trolley and started pouring milk into the bottoms of cups. ‘This is as pleasant as our meeting is likely to get,’ she said, ignoring the cat, Oliver, who had appeared from deep in the fireplace nook when he heard the approach of potential nibbles.
Alex looked at Tony who shook his head, she presumed because he thought it best to let Harriet continue without prompting.
Tea was passed around, cakes and biscuits selected for tiny plates to balance precariously on the knee.
‘Now,’ Mary said. ‘How much do you know?’
‘About what?’ Tony was quick to respond.
Let him think he was in charge. She knew how to pick her battles.
‘We’ve got a murderer on the loose again.’
‘We certainly do.’ Oliver had arrived to swish around Tony’s legs. Despite much tutting, he gave the cat a crumb.
‘Now Vivian Seabrook’s gone.’ Harriet lined up tiny morsels of Eccles cake along the side of her plate. No mystery about who those were intended for.
‘Who came up with this brilliant deduction?’ Alex said. Her stomach had already knotted despite skepticism at the announcement.
Mary took off her thick glasses and polished them with a lace-edged handkerchief. ‘We think it’s starting all over again. We even wonder if there’s some connection to the other murders.’
‘Not possible.’ Tony finished his cake and picked up a biscuit. He faced them all. ‘If anyone goes off in that direction it’ll only muddy the waters.’
‘That’s what I said.’ Harriet didn’t look at her sister. ‘I said the only disturbing thing – apart from the obvious – is that here we are again with people dropping like flies around Folly.’
‘One person.’ Alex put her teacup and uneaten cake aside. ‘So why do you think Vivian’s missing?’
‘She isn’t around here, that’s all.’ Mary raised her shoulders in a decidedly huffy way.
‘What’s being done to find her?’
‘Well,’ Mary said. ‘That’s the other thing. Winifred … someone said the police won’t take any interest at all. They’re ignoring the whole thing.’
Sighing hugely, Harriet went to the window and looked toward St Aldwyn’s Church. ‘They aren’t ignoring it. They’re trying to keep their movements a secret.
They probably have Vivian themselves. There’s a rumor she was seen in the back of one of those horrid police cars being driven out of Folly.’
‘She could have been arrested,’ Mary added with gusto.
‘Why didn’t you say that first?’ Tony’s words hung for a long time.