Clara was awoken by the sound of plates, pots, and pans being moved in the kitchen downstairs. A smile graced her lips as she remembered Vanessa’s utter inability to be quiet in the morning. At one point in her life, Clara had grown used to being woken up by what sounded like the entire kitchen being reorganised every single morning.
Her phone told her it was seven-thirty, not a bad time to be woken up. Vanessa had probably been awake for an hour.
She got out of bed and lifted the lid of one of her suitcases. Unpacking would be on her to-do list that day, she hadn’t been able to face the prospect the night before. She picked out some clothes, a casual light sweater and some skinny jeans.
Ten minutes later she entered the kitchen, dressed and relatively presentable.
“Morning,” she greeted.
“Eggs?” Vanessa asked, a frying pan in her hand.
“Morning,” Clara repeated.
“Yes, yes, good morning, Clara.” She rolled her eyes. “Would you like some eggs for breakfast?”
“No, thank you, I’ll just have some toast.” Clara opened the breadbin and pulled out the loaf of white bread, making a mental note to purchase some wholemeal later that day.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Vanessa asked.
Clara put two slices of bread into the toaster, smothering a yawn behind her hand. “Making toast, would you like some?”
“I’m making breakfast.”
“You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I’m not waiting on you. You’re a guest, I’m the host. I make the breakfast.” Vanessa put the frying pan down on the counter.
“I can make my own breakfast,” Clara replied, already looking in the fridge for the butter.
“Fine, but I’m making the tea.” Vanessa grabbed the kettle and took it over to the sink to fill it up. “Unless you prefer coffee?”
“Tea is fine.”
There was a sharp rap on the front door. Vanessa abandoned the kettle on the counter and grinned. “Here we go!” She practically skipped to the front door.
Clara rolled her eyes. She wasn’t awake enough to deal with a police investigation, or her aunt’s apparent joy that someone had probably been killed. She got a butter knife out and prodded the rock-solid brick of butter.
“Spread,” she muttered to herself. “Get some spread.”
“This is Detective Inspector Ellis,” Vanessa said as she returned to the kitchen. “Tea, Inspector?”
Clara turned to see the stocky man enter the room. He wore a mid-priced suit; his tie was slightly askew. He was in his mid-thirties but had a baby face that Clara assumed wasn’t an asset in his line of work.
“Thank you, Miss. That’s very kind. Pleasure to meet you.” He nodded at Clara and stood awkwardly in the doorway.
Clara held out her hand. He smiled and shook it.
“Clara Harrington,” she greeted.
“Will Ellis.”
Clara gestured to a chair at the round kitchen table. “Please, sit down. You’ll have to excuse me; I’m just eating my breakfast.” She turned her attention back to the toaster.
“I’m sorry for calling in so early. I noticed movement and assumed you were awake.”
“It’s quite all right, Inspector,” Vanessa replied as she put the kettle on. “I’m sure you have a very good reason.”
“Please, call me Will. I’m afraid I have some rather disturbing news.”
“There was a murder at Chadwick Manor last night,” Vanessa guessed as she pulled three cups and saucers from a shelf. “And you’ve yet to identify the murderer.”
Clara softly shook her head. Aunt Vee did so love to show off.
“May I ask how you knew that?” Will asked, clearly taken aback by the casual attitude Vanessa displayed at the terrible news.
“So, I’m right?” Vanessa asked.
“Sorry that she’s so morbid, Inspector,” Clara jumped in. “She writes about murder, so she thinks that everyone is as desensitised to it as she is.”
“Harrington,” Will whispered. His head snapped to look at Vanessa. “You’re not Vanessa Harrington, are you?”
“Guilty.” Aunt Vee grinned like the cat that got the cream. She did so love to be recognised. Clara had once joined her on a book signing in London; the queue of readers wanting a signed copy of her latest hardback had gone out of the door. Vanessa had been in her element.
Will leaned back in his chair and stared at her with awe. “I have read every single one of your books,” he stated. “Multiple times. In fact, your books are the whole reason I got into this line of work to start with.”
Clara rescued her nearly cremated bread from the toaster and focused on trying to get a small amount of butter from the still rocklike brick.
She loved her aunt dearly, but she didn’t look forward to the rest of the day. Aunt Vee’s ego was big enough as it was without the extra input Will Ellis was providing her.
“Oh, really?” Vanessa said. “Well, how marvellous. Which is your favourite book?”
“Now that’s a question! I think it would be impossible to say. Of course, I loved Ten to Midnight, but then I liked the twists and turns of The Squeaky Wheel. I thought you lived in London?”
“I did, I moved out here a couple of years ago,” Vanessa explained. “I wanted to try something new. And that old house was far too big for just me. You know, my publisher always told me that The Squeaky Wheel was too dark, I had to fight to get that one published.”
“Too dark?” Will barked a laugh. “It’s no darker than, say, Pennies in the Lake.”
“That is precisely what I said, wasn’t it, Clara?”
“You did, Aunt Vee,” Clara agreed. She turned around and looked at Will Ellis. “So, has there been a murder?”
Will’s face turned sombre as if he suddenly remembered the reason for his visit. Clara snatched up her toast and took a seat at the kitchen table.
“Ah, yes. I’m sorry to report that Angus Chadwick was murdered last night.”
“Angus?” Vanessa asked. She didn’t sound upset or surprised.
“Yes. Did you know the deceased well?”
“Personally? No,” Vanessa said. “I knew of him, and we spoke once or twice. I’ve seen more of his wife and daughter than I have of him.”
“You’re sure it was murder?” Clara asked.
“We’re sure,” Will confirmed. “He was poisoned. Fell face down into his dessert.”
“The dessert was poisoned?” Clara gasped.
“No, he didn’t actually get to eat any of the dessert, he was poisoned beforehand. Our team is working on what type of poison was used and when it was delivered to the victim.” Will turned his attention back to Vanessa. “Were you aware of any visitors to the property last night?”
“Of course, the only driveway runs past my house. We deduced early on in the evening that they were having a gathering of some kind.” Vanessa filled the teapot with steaming hot water from the kettle. “Of course, every one of them has a reason to want Angus dead.”
“Could you elaborate on that?” Will asked.
“Isn’t that your job, Inspector?” Vanessa asked. “Unless you need my help?”
Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Not at all, just asking for any information you might like to share with me as part of an ongoing investigation.”
Vanessa brought the tea tray over to the table. She placed cups and saucers out for the three of them. “I’d love to collaborate with you, Inspector, but all I have to offer is hearsay and rumour, nothing that an official investigation would want to hear about.”
Clara focused intently on her toast. She didn’t want to get involved in the power play that was happening before her eyes. Vanessa clearly wanted to be involved in the investigation, and, if Clara knew her aunt, she would be involved one way or another.
If Will sought her help, then she’d have all the access she needed. If he didn’t, well, Vanessa would do as she wanted regardless.
“Are you aware of any threats to Mr Chadwick’s life? Has there been any hearsay or rumour recently?” he asked.
Vanessa poured tea into his cup. She shook her head. “It’s not my experience that people announce their intention to murder someone. Especially with poison, which I would think is a premeditated action.”
“Can you think of anyone who would personally gain from Mr Chadwick’s death?” Will tried again. He took the proffered milk jug from Vanessa’s hand and poured a little into his cup.
“Almost everyone in Picklemarsh,” Vanessa said. “He was the head of the council. Who doesn’t have a quarrel with the head of their local government? And he wasn’t exactly well liked by his family or neighbours. I’m sorry, Inspector, it would be difficult to give you any accurate information without having some kind of access to the case.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss Harrington,” Will told her.
“Oh, that’s a shame. I was often brought in as an advisor to Chief Inspector Ludlow. In the Met. In London.”
Clara couldn’t believe the boldfaced lies slipping from her aunt’s lips. She stared at her over the top of her toast but was completely ignored.
Will looked flustered. “Um… well…”
“I thought you were in charge of the investigation?” Vanessa asked.
“I am,” he replied quickly.
“So, it would be your decision. But I understand if you feel your masculinity would be called into question if you had us two at your side.” Vanessa picked up a cube of sugar and dropped it into her cup with a splash.
“Us two?” Clara asked. How had she suddenly gotten involved in this?
“You know I need help, dear,” Vanessa told Clara. She turned to Will. “I’m rather old, you see, Inspector. I like to have my niece with me, but my mind is still there. We wouldn’t get in your way.”
Clara just shook her head. The show her aunt was putting on was worthy of a BAFTA.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Miss Harrington. But thank you for offering your time, I know you must be busy,” Will said, politely but firmly.
“Indeed, I am,” Vanessa agreed. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to say about Angus. He was disliked, as you’ll find throughout the course of your investigation. Beyond that… as I say, hearsay.”
Clara kept silent. She knew exactly what her aunt was doing and suspected that Will wasn’t foolish enough to fall for it either. He looked at her for a few seconds before quickly downing his tea.
He stood up and reached into his jacket pocket, then put a business card on the table.
“If you hear of anything that you think I ought to know about, please give the station a call,” he said.
“Of course,” Vanessa agreed. “Let me see you out, Inspector.”
Clara smiled to herself. Vanessa had clearly lost this battle, but if Clara knew her aunt, then she was also pretty sure that the war was not over.