Eleanor decided to run her ideas past Erika over coffee the next morning, before the bookshop opened for business.
“What do you think of my theory about the identity of the mysterious benefactor?” she asked, offering a plate of biscuits to Erika.
“Let me get this straight: the church contains an engraved panel and a stained-glass window of St Brendan the Navigator, but there’s no record of who commissioned and paid for them?” Erika jotted down the facts on a scrap of paper.
“Correct. And there’s no dedication either, which Phil tells me is unusual.”
“And the epigraph inscribed on the wall is the same as the poem written on the piece of paper you found in the tea caddy given to you by Joshua Pinkham?”
“Yes, in a hidden compartment underneath the silver pendant that just happens to have the same saint engraved on it as the chap in the church window. All of which leads me to conclude that the mystery donor must have been someone in Joshua’s family, wouldn’t you agree?”
Erika frowned. “The evidence does seem to be pointing in that direction, but you need to consider other options before coming to a conclusion.”
“What other options?”
“You’re doing the sleuthing, boss, so you tell me!”
As Eleanor thought about it now, it seemed quite obvious. “Well, I suppose whoever wrote down the verse on the piece of paper and put it in the tea caddy might have copied it from the church wall. There’s no reason to think they were the author of the poem or the donor.”
“Precisely.”
“Darn.”
“Which doesn’t mean that’s the answer, but it’s something to bear in mind.”
“You’re good at this,” said Eleanor. “I bet Eric was an ace copper.”
“He was.”
They sat in silence sipping their drinks, the subject of Erika’s past life hanging in the air. After a moment, Eleanor spoke again. “Of course, it might be that the donor was indeed a Pinkham but Joshua doesn’t know about it because the person was so modest he…”
“Or she – who’s to say the person who paid for the window wasn’t a woman?”
“Fair point.” Eleanor nodded. “That he or she didn’t even tell their nearest and dearest, so Joshua isn’t aware of the connection.”
Erika tapped the rim of her coffee cup thoughtfully. “On the other hand, if the benefactor was a Pinkham and Joshua does know about it, you’d think he’d be proud to tell everyone. And he’d want to hang on to the pendant and handwritten verse if they were linked to the donation in some way.”
“I agree.”
“I’d like to see the pendant sometime.”
“That can be arranged.” Eleanor went across to the counter to fetch her handbag and brought out the paisley silk bag. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to her colleague.
“That’s nice.” Erika took the pendant out of its bag and peered at it through her reading glasses. “Have you opened it yet?”
“Opened it? What do you mean?”
Erika raised an eyebrow. “There’s a hinge at the top so I’m guessing it’s a locket.”
“Is there? None of us noticed that!”
“Not much gets past me.” Erika handed it back. “You open it – I don’t want to tear a nail when I’ve just had them done.”
Eleanor slipped the tip of her thumbnail under the catch and carefully prised open the locket. She smiled at her colleague. “There’s a photograph.” In the oval frame was a studio photograph of a young woman. Her hair was waved and tied up at the back but wisps had escaped and were gathered around her brow. Her eyes appeared bright and thoughtful as they gazed out from under dark eyebrows in her heart-shaped face. “She was very pretty, whoever she was. And all without the magic of Photoshop.”
As Eleanor opened the locket fully, a curl of paper slipped out from beneath a second cover and wafted gently down to the floor. Erika bent to pick it up then went to hand it to her boss who nodded at her to uncurl and read it. “It says ‘I did you a great harm, for which I am truly sorry. Your melancholy friend, V.’.”
“Wow. This is fascinating – who was V?” Eleanor was walking up and down excitedly. “First I uncover a mysterious hidden cupboard at the back of one of the bookcases and a briefcase that Joshua is reluctant to open, then this. Things are becoming very interesting indeed.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the shop’s brass bell jingling as the door opened and one of their regular delivery drivers came in carrying two cartons of books.
“Right,” said Erika, “I’d better get on with some proper work.”
“Me too,” said Eleanor, drinking the last of her coffee. She then carefully smoothed out the slip of paper from “V.” and put it in an envelope next to the locket in a desk drawer.
“I’ve had a thought,” said Erika, some minutes later. “Didn’t you say Joshua sold you a Bible?”
“He did, yes, and told me to give the money to the vicar for his roof.”
“Have you had a good look at it? In days gone by, people often kept family records in Bibles – births, deaths, marriages, that kind of thing. If the gifts to St Cuthbert’s Church were made by one of Pinkham’s forebears, you might find a note about them in there.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” said Eleanor, who was kneeling on the floor restacking the children’s storybooks. “I haven’t spotted anything, but it might be worth taking another look. Thanks for the tip!”
* * *
Back at the cottage, Eleanor decided to follow up Erika’s suggestion and search the Bible for proof that it was a Pinkham who had paid for the church window. There was nothing like a family tree and no other records inside the front cover so she began laboriously leafing through every page.
When Daniel came in from his run, he paused to kiss his wife before heading upstairs for a shower. “Have you suddenly found religion?” he asked, his brow shiny from his exertions. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you read the Bible before.”
“It’s nothing quite as holy as that.” Smiling, Eleanor told Daniel the reason for her search. “I’ve been sitting here for hours and I’ve only checked through this much,” she said, indicating a small span with a finger and thumb. “I’ve still got about an inch and a half to go through yet.”
“Would a nice glass of cold white wine make it easier?”
“Definitely, darling,” said Eleanor, tipping back her head so Dan could kiss her lips.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll fetch us one.”
Eleanor carried on leafing through the book, listening to the ancient plumbing clank above her head. It wasn’t long before Daniel reappeared in fresh clothes, his dark hair clean and damp. Eleanor wolf whistled as he walked past her to the fridge to fetch the wine. “D’you know, I really quite fancy you?”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, his lips forming the lazy smile that always made Eleanor’s heart flip. “Cheers Miss Marple.”
“Cheers.” Eleanor sipped her drink. “I’ll spend another few minutes on this then I’ll think about supper. Is pizza and salad okay?”
“Perfect,” said Dan, drawing up a chair on the opposite side of the table to his wife and stretching out his long legs. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding towards the book.
“What’s what?”
“It looks like there’s something going down into the spine.”
Eleanor tilted the heavy book up towards her so she could see what her husband was pointing at. “This? Oh, it’s a ribbon bookmark. It should be resting between the pages but it seems to have been folded back on itself and pushed down the spine instead. How odd.”
She tried and failed to pull it out with her fingers. “It seems to be well and truly stuck.”
“You need to reach underneath it with something. Hold on a second,” said Daniel, rummaging through the kitchen drawers. “Try this.”
“A chopstick? That’s not very reverential.”
“It was either this or a meat skewer, which might do more damage.”
“Okay. Hand it over.” Eleanor took the chopstick, spun the book around and carefully slid the end under the ribbon. “I think it’s coming.” Daniel watched as his wife gradually withdrew the length of black silk from the spine. After a moment it stopped. “It’s caught on something.”
“Hang on, I’ll fetch a torch so we can see what’s going on.” Dan picked up his car keys and shone the mini torch down the gap between the pages and the book’s spine. “There’s something tied to the end of the ribbon, El. Give it another pull.”
Eleanor put down the chopstick and gently tugged on the ribbon, jiggling it from side to side. “Got it,” she said, as the fabric came out. “Gosh, look at this.” Dangling from the length of silk was a gold ring.
Daniel whistled. “You’ve found hidden treasure.”
“Blimey. I wasn’t expecting that.”
* * *
After supper they curled up on the sofa, the Bible on the coffee table at their feet. Eleanor was looking at the ribbon she’d laid on the cover, still attached to the binding. “It’s an odd shape for a ring, don’t you think?”
“It looks pretty ring-like to me. What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s big and has a very rounded edge. I think it could be a curtain ring rather than a piece of jewellery you’d wear on a finger.”
Daniel laughed. “Why would anyone bother to keep one curtain ring? And why put it on the end of a ribbon and shove it inside a Bible?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same questions and have come to the conclusion that a ring on a piece of ribbon actually makes a jolly useful bookmark.” Eleanor picked up the ribbon from the book, watching the gold circle spin in the warm evening light that streamed in through the window. “I might make some to sell in the shop.”
Daniel frowned. “But why was it pushed down the spine where it couldn’t be used?”
“Who knows.” Eleanor sipped on her coffee thoughtfully. “If it’s not a curtain ring perhaps it’s an earring – you know, like the hooped ones gypsies and fortune-tellers always wore in Hollywood movies from the 1940s.”
“That’s possible, I suppose. But I still don’t see why someone would keep a single earring.”
“Perhaps they hoped they’d find the left-hand one down the back of the sofa one day.” Eleanor put the ribbon back on the book cover and curled up against her husband.
“You have left- and right-hand earrings?”
“Joke alert.”
“Very funny.” Daniel gave Eleanor a squeeze. “Or it could have come from the nose of a piglet.”
Eleanor prodded her husband in the ribs. “You may mock, but Erika says it’s important to consider all possibilities when assessing evidence to avoid leaping to false conclusions.”
“Your colleague is a wise old bird.” Daniel thought for a moment. “Perhaps you should call the auctioneer chappie who was at the festival. You never know, your curtain ring might turn out to be really valuable and pay off our attic conversion.”
“Sure, or it could raise some more dough for the vicar’s fund.”
Daniel laughed. “Or you could send it to one of those companies that advertise in the tabloids: ‘Send us your unwanted gold’. As if gold was ever unwanted.”
Eleanor sighed. “A, it’s probably worth tuppence and B, it isn’t mine to sell.”
“Which means you’ll have to face the wrath of Joshua and tell him you’ve found something else he ought to hold on to.” Daniel smiled. “Best of luck.”
“Thanks, I may need it.”
“Is he coming to Bill’s launch party, by the way?”
“I’ve invited him, but I think it’s unlikely he’ll come. I have the impression he’s not terribly comfortable with strangers, poor old bugger.” She yawned and stretched. “Speaking of parties, I need my beauty sleep. I have loads to do tomorrow.”
Daniel stood and took both of Eleanor’s hands in his, gently pulling her to her feet. “Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s get you to bed so you can dream of rock bands.”
“And treasure.” On the way, Eleanor picked up a book from a chair at the bottom of the staircase.
“What have you got there?”
“It’s another of the books I bought from Joshua.”
Daniel tipped his head to see the cover illustration, which showed three pink-cheeked, fair-haired youngsters on a sailing dinghy. “Seafaring Tales for Children – that looks like my kind of thing. Can I borrow it when you’ve finished?”
“Of course. The stories are fairly jolly, though the one I’m reading at the moment does seem to be rather ‘improving’.” Eleanor opened the book and stroked the heavy cream paper, running her fingers over the inky black type.
“Who’s the author? Anyone we’ve heard of?”
“The name’s VE Bennett. I’ve no idea who he was.” Eleanor yawned again. “And I’m not sure how much I’ll manage to read tonight. I’m bushed.”