As soon as Bea and Grace had left the room, Gemma went to Kit. “What happened?” she asked quietly, moving him away from the others.
“I don’t know. She seemed okay with what you said—I told her you’d invited her to lunch and that the kids would like to meet Bella. But we had to walk back through the center of the village and she saw something. Maybe it was the closed sign still out in front of the pub. Then she started yelling at me and ran straight across the road. I couldn’t stop her.”
“I know, love. Thank you for trying.” Gemma gave his shoulders a squeeze, then bent to stroke the dog’s silky head. “I’m sure Grace will calm down. But in the meantime, what are we going to do with this lovely girl?”
“I don’t want to give her back to Grace.”
Gemma looked up, surprised. “Why ever not?”
“Grace isn’t responsible. She’s a baby. She doesn’t understand that what’s good for the dog comes first, not what she wants.”
What exactly had Grace done? Gemma wondered. But before she could ask, her mobile vibrated in her pocket. When she saw that it was Melody, she realized she hadn’t even had a chance to ask Kincaid what on earth he’d done with the children. “Just hang on to Bella for a bit,” she told Kit. “We’ll work something out. I’ve got to get this.”
She stepped into the lounge bar and answered the call. “Melody, are the kids okay?”
“That depends on whether you call playing croquet with Doug ‘okay,’” said Melody. “But other than that, they’re fine.”
“I’m so sorry.” Gemma puffed out a breath of relief. “I didn’t mean for you to be landed as a babysitter. I left them with Duncan. He’s here at the pub now with DI Booth, but I haven’t had a chance to ask him what happened.”
“Doug says Booth got a heads-up from the pathologist and picked Duncan up on the way to the scene. I came back to find Doug and both kids glued to Frozen and made them go outside.”
“Where were you, anyway?” Gemma asked.
“Having an interesting visit with Joe.”
“The gardener?”
“One and the same. I’ll tell you about it later. Listen, boss, Dougie did actually make himself useful this morning, other than child minding—which was probably good for his constitution. He did some research on Fergus O’Reilly.”
As Melody started telling her what Doug had learned, Gemma said, “Hang on,” and looked round for something to write on. Yesterday’s newspapers were still on the reading shelf by the bar, but there was no pen. Ducking behind the bar, she seized on an order pad and a pencil and began making notes. “Colm Finlay?” she repeated, and double-checked the spelling. She took down the name of the deceased ex-wife, and the approximate dates of Fergus’s different restaurant ventures. “So Fergus was in bad shape financially?” she said, tapping the pencil on the pad.
“Certainly looks that way. What’s going on with the bartender?”
Gemma stepped into the empty dining room on the other side of the lounge. “All I know is that Booth and the pathologist don’t think the hit-and-run was an accident.” Frowning, she added, “Melody, can you and Doug manage the kids just a bit longer? And please apologize to your mum and dad if we don’t make lunch? I’ll ring you back in just a few.”
Ringing off, she crossed the lounge again and stood in the doorway of the smaller dining room. Kit, the dog at his side, had joined the chefs, who seemed to be arguing. Viv was shaking her head as Ibby spoke to her urgently. Kincaid was huddled with Booth, discussing something Booth had pulled up on his phone. Watching her husband, she noticed how drawn his face had become over the last two days. There were hollows under his eyes and the lines between his nose and mouth seemed etched more deeply. He was still cradling his right hand and wincing when he moved. Could she be certain that he’d see the doctor again tomorrow if she left this afternoon?
She was worried about Viv Holland, but it was concern for Kincaid that tipped the balance. Crossing the room, she touched him gently on the arm and whispered, “Need a word.” When he’d excused himself to Booth, she led him back into the empty lounge and urged him to sit down with her at the table by the cold hearth.
“I don’t think we can just leave this,” she said quietly. “Not that I don’t think DI Booth can do a good job, but there’s a lot going on here that he may not have access to. And I think Viv Holland needs some serious support. I want to stay on at least another day. We can all go back to London together, tomorrow or the next day.”
Kincaid frowned. “What about the kids? They have to be back in school tomorrow. And work? I’ve let my team know I’ll be held up, dealing with the car, but you’re due back at Brixton in the morning.”
“I’ll ring the kids’ schools first thing and get them excused. I don’t think the boys have anything they can’t make up. And you know I’ve got leave due—I worked straight through the last two weekends because other people were out.”
Kincaid nodded, and she thought he looked relieved not to be left on his own. “Won’t we be making a nuisance of ourselves with Ivan and Addie?”
“I’ll speak to Addie as soon as I get back up to the house. She said they were here until midweek and we were welcome to stay as long as we needed.” Leaning closer, Gemma said, “So tell me about the hit-and-run.”
“No visible skid marks. Which doesn’t rule out an accident, but the pathologist thinks someone hit him over the head once he was down.”
“Oh, bugger,” whispered Gemma. She considered this for a moment. “I don’t think it can possibly be coincidence, the deaths of Nell Greene and Fergus O’Reilly, then this. And it all starts with O’Reilly. What was he really doing here? Why was he here three weeks ago? If Viv spent years hiding from him, which is certainly what it looks like, why? Was he violent?” She relayed what Melody had told her about O’Reilly’s restaurants. “I’d start with the London address you and Booth got from the hotel here. And the name Doug found of his former partner in London.”
“Someone will have to follow up on those leads,” Kincaid agreed. “But Booth will have to liaise with the Met and that may take some time.”
“I have an idea,” Gemma said, and smiled for the first time since Viv had called Beck House.
Seeing that Doug and the kids were still occupied with their croquet game, which looked as though it was becoming a bit Alice-esque, Melody went back into the house.
She found Addie in the kitchen, arranging sliced ham and tomatoes on a platter. “I just spoke to Gemma,” Melody told her. “She and Duncan are still at the Lamb. She said to apologize if they didn’t make it back for lunch.”
“I’m not surprised,” Addie said. “I’m just putting out some ham for sandwiches. There will be plenty left for them whenever they get back. Your dad told me about the bartender.” She shook her head. “What a shame. Poor Viv.”
“It’s worse than that. Gemma says they don’t think it was an accident.”
Addie stopped, hands arrested over the ham. “Oh, no. That’s dreadful. Surely, they’re wrong.”
“I don’t get the impression that DI Booth makes a habit of being wrong.” Melody helped herself to a slice of tomato—delicious, and undoubtedly from their garden.
“No.” Addie went back to her task, adding farmhouse bread to the platter. “I’d agree with you on that. But I can’t imagine that anyone would want to hurt poor Jack Doyle. Such a nice man. This will be horrible for Viv and Bea. I must see what I can do for them.”
“It sounds like a zoo at the moment, with Gemma and Duncan at the pub as well as DI Booth. I’d go down myself except I promised Gemma I’d look after Toby and Charlotte.” Melody leaned back against the work top. “Mum, what do you know about Joe?”
Addie looked up, surprised. “Joe? Why do you want to know?”
“We were just chatting a bit ago. I was curious why a good-looking young guy would want to live like a monk.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that.” The corner of Addie’s mouth turned up. “He does go down to the pub as well as into town, regularly, and there have been quite a few times when I’ve seen him coming back early in the morning. Where he chooses to spend the night is certainly none of my business—although I do like having him here on the property when we’re in London.”
“He wanted to know what I knew about Viv and Fergus O’Reilly, but then he didn’t want me to tell Viv he’d asked. I just thought it was odd.”
“Oh.” Addie considered this. “Well, as far as I know, they’re just friends. Of course he would be concerned. Roz,” she called out, “has Joe spoken to you about Viv?”
“I didn’t realize Roz was here,” said Melody.
“She was just finishing up some correspondence that needed to be done by tomorrow. We got a bit behind, with the luncheon.”
A moment later, Roz Dunning came in from the hall. “Did you call me, Addie? I was just on my way out.” She added, “Oh, hi, Melody. I thought you were out in the garden with your friend. He seems to be getting on famously with the little ones.”
“It’s not important,” said Addie. “Don’t let us keep you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. Bye now.” Roz gave them a little wave and a moment later they heard the front door open and close.
“I do hope my luncheon idea wasn’t responsible for bringing O’Reilly here,” said Addie, looking down at her finished platter with an unexpected expression of regret. “If he hadn’t come, neither he nor Nell might have died. And now this, with Jack Doyle . . .”
“Mum.” Melody put her arm round her mother’s slender shoulders. The silk of Addie’s blouse felt cool under her fingers. “Whatever happened to Nell and Fergus O’Reilly, it was not your fault. Now, what about these sandwiches?”
“Right.” Addie smiled, but Melody wasn’t entirely convinced. “If you’ll fetch Doug and the children,” Addie said, “I’ll just tell your father. He’s been on the phone all morning trying to find a good car for Duncan.” She looked at Melody. “If Duncan had been hurt very badly—or died—I don’t know how I would—”
“Mum!” Melody cut her off, shocked. “Don’t be silly. That’s not like you at all. I might as well hold myself responsible because I invited them.”
“I suppose you’re right, darling.” Addie sighed. “I just feel a bit like the thing that started the dominoes falling.”
“You have certainly never been described by anyone as a thing,” Melody said, laughing, and earned a rueful smile in return. “Come on, then—”
The doorbell rang, startling them both.
“Who the hell?” grumbled Melody. Neither Gemma nor Duncan had keys, but the front door had been purposely left off the latch for them. Perhaps Roz had forgotten. “I’ll get it,” she said, starting for the hall, but Addie followed her nevertheless.
“I’m so sorry,” Melody said as she opened the door. “Did you get locked—”
The words dried up. Neither Gemma nor Duncan stood on the porch. Gaping, she looked into Andy Monahan’s very blue eyes.
As Gemma and Kincaid walked back into the small dining room, she could tell that the discussion among the chefs was getting more heated. Kincaid went to speak to Booth, while Gemma saw that Kit had apparently fetched a bowl of water for Bella from the kitchen, and now knelt beside the dog as she drank, listening intently to the conversation.
“We can’t,” Viv was saying. “We just can’t. It’s disrespectful. What would people think?”
“What are people going to think when they start turning up at noon for the Sunday lunches they’ve booked, and they haven’t even had a phone call telling them their reservation is canceled?” argued Ibby.
“That doesn’t matter.” Viv sounded near to tears again.
“It does, actually,” Angelica put in, quietly. “The locals will have to be told about Jack, whether it’s today or tomorrow. But we have tourists and people from outside that are only going to know that their day is ruined. And what are we going to do, otherwise? Sit in the kitchen while the food spoils? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be working.”
Gemma jumped as Bea spoke from behind her shoulder. “Angelica’s right. We’ve got people already pulling into the car park. We can’t just turn them away,” Bea continued as she joined the group. “Sarah and the rest of the servers are here. Sarah is manning the car park until we can get ourselves sorted out in here. Viv?”
“But we can’t just—” Viv shook her head. “What about Grace?”
“I’ve got her settled on the sofa with a duvet and a video. I’ll check on her in a few minutes.”
Bea, Gemma decided, was the sort of person who met a crisis with action.
“But what about the bar?” said Viv. “We can’t pull anyone out of the dining rooms—”
“I can mind the bar,” put in Ibby. “Angie’s right. We can’t just sit here all day. We’d go spare. But you’ll be shorthanded in the kitchen.”
Kit had stood up. “I can help.”
“Would you?” Viv gave him a grateful look, then glanced at Gemma. “If it’s all right with your mum, we might be able to manage with an extra hand.”
“Of course, that’s fine, if Kit wants to help. And I’m glad to do whatever I can, as well.”
“But you’ll have to take Bella if I help out,” he said. “I can’t have her in the kitchen. You will watch out for her, won’t you?” he added, with a return of the worried frown he’d worn earlier.
“Of course I will,” Gemma assured him, but before she could ask what was bothering him, the chefs, having made a decision, whisked him off to the kitchen, and Gemma was left, quite literally, holding the dog.
When Bella whined after Kit, Gemma reassured her, then took her over to Kincaid and Booth. “They’re going to open,” she told them. “And we need to find a place to talk.”
Roz escaped into the forecourt at Beck House and walked fast up the drive until she reached the road. There, she stopped and drew a shaky breath.
She’d been about to walk into the kitchen when she’d heard Melody mention Joe’s name. Hardly daring to breathe, she’d listened until Addie had called out for her, then waited a moment to enter, a smile pasted on her face. Dear God, she’d never dreamed that Joe would be stupid enough to ask questions about Fergus of Melody, of all people. What else had he told her? She considered going back to confront him now, but someone might see her and she didn’t want to chat.
Hunching her shoulders, she started up the road towards her cottage. The sound of a car coming up the lane made her look back, but all she saw was the flash of tail lamps as a car turned into the Beck House drive. Roz shrugged and continued up the hill. Not her problem, whomever it was.
As she reached the high point of the village, a flock of black birds rose from the churchyard, wheeled in the air above her, then settled on the power wires, their voices raucous and mocking. They might have been laughing at her.
As well they might. She meant to go home and erase any trace that Fergus O’Reilly had ever entered her life.
And then she was going to deal with Joe.
“Andy, what are you doing here?” Melody managed to gasp when her tongue had unlocked itself.
“Surprised to see me, then?” He didn’t smile.
“How did you—”
“Know where to find you? I rang Doug. I was worried about you. Apparently, I needn’t have been.”
“Doug? But why did he—” A movement made Melody realize that her mother was still standing right behind her. Stepping back, she said, “Oh, Mum. This is Andy. Andy, this is my mother, Addie Talbot.”
Andy held out a hand to Addie. “Andy Monahan. Melody’s friend.” There was a definite emphasis on the friend. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Addie shook his hand warmly, then studied him with a slightly puzzled expression. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? Oh.” Her face cleared. “I’ve seen you on the television—was it Breakfast? You and your partner, the adorable girl who sings and plays the bass. Poppy.”
“Yes. Poppy Jones.”
“You’re the guitarist. I think the two of you are so talented.”
Melody glanced at her mother in shock. What was she doing, gushing like a smitten teenager? Not that Andy looked the rock star today. His usually tousled blond hair was neatly combed. He wore a quite smart navy blazer over a blue button-down shirt, and jeans with his bespoke brown leather boots—those, one of his few concessions to his recent celebrity.
“Remember, darling?” Addie turned to Melody. “I told you how much I liked that song?” She hummed a bit of Andy and Poppy’s hit from last summer—perfectly in key. Melody could have sunk through the earth. “Why didn’t you say you two were friends?”
“I— It just never came up—”
“Well, in any case, do come in,” Addie said before Melody could dig herself in any deeper. “We were just about to have lunch. You must join us, Andy.”
“I’m very sorry, Lady Adelaide, but I can’t stay. I’ve just come to have a word with Melody. It won’t take long.”