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Chapter 9

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Wilhelmina was in place at Deerfield cottage and it was clearly a good match. She and Maurice Kingston had been out frequently over the past week and she was seen pushing his wheelchair along the residential sidewalks, and down in the village. They had had tea at Bonita’s, and later that week a beer one sunny afternoon at The Thirsty Toad. Mr. Kingston looked healthier and happier than he had in ages, and Wilhelmina seemed glad to be needed and busy.

The Pages were another story. They had been dismissed from working for Mr. Kingston and had been told not to make contact with him, or go back to the house. Their venomous outbursts upon hearing this decision had given Van Dyck and Mark Patterson real insight into their true personalities. Van Dyck knew that Erin and Monica were primed to get to the bottom of the final part of their trio of mysteries, and he was happy to let them go full steam ahead. You couldn’t argue with success, and he had to admit that they were good at digging up the truth.

“I wonder if we should have called ahead?” asked Erin getting into the Land Rover and heaving her large bag into the back seat.

“No way!” said Monica adamantly, “That would give her a chance to say she can’t see us. She was uncomfortable last time we spoke to her.”

Enid Black looked stunned when she saw the two women at her front door, and she was not as friendly as the last time they had met. “What can I do for you? I am about to go out soon.”

“Miss Black, we have a few loose ends to clear up on the hospital situation, and on some crimes that were committed years ago. We think that you can help us. Can we come in please?”

Reluctantly the door opened, and the girls were ushered into the living room. No coffee or tea was offered this time. “Ok, so what do you want?” demanded Enid Black standing by the window with her back turned to the girls.

“Miss Black, we noticed that you were uncomfortable last time we met when the topic of leaving the hospital came up. We did a little digging and found out that you actually retired and left three months before the hospital closed. But, you led us to believe that you had left the hospital on the day it closed. We went to the library and found out otherwise. Here is a copy of your retirement ceremony article from the newspaper.  Next we went for a little late night visit to the hospital, and though it was a filthy, frightening place, we found out some very interesting things. First we found a box with some cards inside full of information. A little hard to figure out what it all meant, but we did eventually.”

Enid Black spun around and her face was contorted. “You what?  You found information? I looked for some evidence for months; even years but I could never find anything.”

“Just wait till I finish Miss Black,” said Monica holding up her hand. “You can have your say when I am done. Then we met the caretaker or security guard and he told us some interesting things. He said that when the hospital was still functioning, a few times a month a couple would arrive at the hospital in a car, and go away with something. He said the same two nurses were always on duty, and he described one of them. We think we know her. Does any of this ring a bell or make sense? I have a feeling that it does.”

Enid Black sat down on an armchair covered in a Liberty print, and sighed.

“Can I get you some tea or water?” offered Erin who could see that the woman was shocked at what she had heard.

“No, I am fine. I am actually glad that you have found the evidence of what I suspected was going on so long ago. Can I see the files you found?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call these ‘files’ in the usual sense of the word,” said Monica. “The information you were probably looking for was in an old fashioned wooden recipe box. The kind of thing anybody would pass by. Please don’t open the bag. We want to preserve fingerprints.”

Monica pulled the old wooden recipe box out of her purse still in the plastic storage bag, and handed it over to Enid Black. She looked t the photocopies that Erin had made of each card. Finally she looked up. “I need a glass of wine, or a vodka,” she said. “Care to join me?”

“No thanks, we have to drive home,” said Erin, “but thanks anyway.”

Enid Black poured herself a vodka and tonic, sliced a lime and added it to her drink. Finally after a sip she said, “There had been some strange things going on at the hospital for months: Unwed mothers who were determined to keep their babies, and then changed their minds overnight. Patients who said they saw babies being taken in the middle of the night from the nursery and never returned to their little cots. When the staff were asked they just said that the mothers had left the hospitals with their babies.  I was asked by the hospital board to do some digging so that is why I retired three months before the hospital closed officially. I began to do some investigating. I knew the hospital inside out, and I was able to disguise myself, and move about easily. I often went into the offices at night, and opened files, and looked at records. I knew that there were probably two sets of files. One was the official version, and then there was another version that nobody but a few nurses saw. From what I could gather, there were two nurses who were convincing the mothers to give their babies up for adoption. It all sounded alright except that the babies were actually being sold which is of course illegal. I was never able to find enough proof. The transfers never happened when I was snooping around. Somehow, the two nurses who were masterminding the whole thing knew when I was going to show up in disguise and look around.”

“Is that why you and your gardener went back to the hospital after it closed?” asked Monica.

“Yes, I thought I might be able to find a file with all the evidence and information, but I could never get my hands on it no matter how I tried. Where did you locate it anyway?”

“I found it in an old closet. It would have been easy to miss as it looked just like an old recipe box. As you can see, the information in it is kind of cryptic so most people would have just tossed it away as junk.”

“I was looking for a real file folder; that’s why I got fooled.”

“Miss Black, do you know who the two nurses were who put this illegal adoption scheme into action?”

“I have an idea. The two I am thinking of were as thick as thieves, if you’ll pardon the pun. One of the nurses was a girl named Geraldine Browne. She died in a train crash a few years back. The other girl is living in your neck of the woods I believe, and her name is....”

“Janine Page!” said Monica breaking in.

“That’s her! And I think that her initials are right here on these cards as JT; her maiden name was Tripp. You can also see GB for Geraldine Browne on others. I could never prove anything without their writing and the details on the cards in this box. You have no idea how happy I am to finally be able to put this to rest.”

“The old security guard was helpful too. He described Janine to us although he didn’t know her name. Miss Black, you may have to come to the police station and make an official statement, and eventually testify in court. There is also the chance that this will all be in the press, but that’s what happens when a cold case gets solved. I know it won’t be pleasant but I know you will be glad to see justice served even after all these years.”

“I am aware of what will happen, but my greatest sadness is that so many of those young girls might have wanted to keep their babies, and try to raise them. Instead they were bribed with some money to give up their babies, and I am sure it was a lot less than what Janine and Geraldine put in their pockets.

***

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Monica and Erin felt a huge sense of elation and accomplishment as they drove away from Enid Black’s house. “Well, we did it my friend,” said Erin stuffing two sticks of cherry flavoured gum in her mouth. “We got to the bottom of the dead baby business, we found out exactly who Mr. Andrews really is, and we solved a nasty little baby adoption scam dating back 30 years.”

“There is no way Van Dyck can’t say we didn’t step up to the plate. We should be on the police payroll!” laughed Monica.

“I rather like things the way they are,” said Erin. “We help out when we can and on our own time. Besides, who would mind the store if we were not there?”

“That reminds me, let’s go to the store, and put this recipe box in the safe. It is crucial evidence and I’ll get it over to Van Dyck in the morning with a full report.”

Joanne had left the store in tip top shape as she always did, and the girls entered by the back door. An old grandfather clocked ticked away time in a far corner, and Monica turned off the alarm. Erin walked in behind her, but she stopped suddenly. “Monica,” she said quietly, “just wait a second. There is something wrong in here.”

“What do you mean, there can’t be?” laughed Monica, “the alarm didn’t go off.”

“Maybe Joanne didn’t set it. She knew we were going to be back soon, and she isn’t comfortable dealing with the code keypad,” said Erin as she put a restraining arm on Monica. Monica knew from experience that Erin’s radar was rarely wrong. She stood stock still. Both girls listened. The faintest creak, almost imperceptible came from above. Then there was silence again. Monica turned around, faced Erin, and shrugged. Erin motioned that she would go upstairs. Slowly she went up to the first floor one step at a time, the old stairs creaking furiously. Monica moved into the back office and small kitchen. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind, and her cane went flying. She was shoved into a chair, her arms were tied behind her and a smelly gag reeking of mould and dust was tied over her mouth. In front of her stood Janine and Michael Parks, and their small, beady eyes were saying a lot.  Janine held up her finger to her lips, made a very quiet shush sound, and then drew her hand across her throat. It didn’t take a genius to understand what she meant by that gesture.

“Nothing up here Monica,” called Erin coming back down the noisy stairs slowly. “Monica, did you hear me? There is nothing up there; must have been a mouse. Monica, did you go outside?”

Erin walked through the back office door, and saw Monica tied to the chair a fraction of a second before she too was grabbed. Being a little more nimble on her feet as both her legs were in good shape, she fought with determination, and even managed to get a few kicks and punches in before she was overcome. Her knuckles were bleeding, and her cheek would have a big bruise on it very soon after a punch from Michael had stunned her.

“Damn, you witch. That hurt,” yelled Janine rubbing her shoulder where Erin had managed to hit her. “Now, you two have really screwed things up for us,” she added walking back and forth in front of the girls who followed her with their eyes. “Michael and I had the old man right where we wanted him. We were eating well, buying the odd thing that we would need later on, and he had made us his power of attorney. Did you know that he had also willed us the house? Weren’t we clever to mastermind that whole scenario? But then you got in the way. Most annoying, don’t you think Michael?”

“We have a little surprise for you,” he said, “just a small token of our appreciation for the work you have both done in really fouling up our plans.”

Monica and Erin could see that both Janine and Michael were mentally unhinged. Dealing with crazies was an exercise in futility, but Monica and Erin knew that if they could speak, they might make the two nuts standing in front of them realize that there were a few other charges against them that would be easy to prove. Monica made mumbling noises behind her gag.

“Oh our antique princess wants to speak does she? Wants to tell us something before the final curtain?” said Janine nastily before walking over to Monica, and roughly untying the gag. Monica took a few huge breaths of clean air. “I hate to tell you both this, but old Mr. Andrews is the least of your problems.”

“What do you mean,” snarled Michael. “We had that situation all sewn up till little Miss Irish here came to the house to check on antiques and stuff to sell.”

“At your request as I recall, said Monica quickly.

“Yes, that was your fault,” said Janine angrily stabbing Michael in the chest with her index finger. “You were the idiot who insisted that we call the antique shop and get somebody over to see the stuff. I could have.....”

Monica and Erin looked at each other. There was clearly a rift between the two partners. Sometimes this was good, and might work to their advantage.

“If you two would stop arguing, I will explain a few things to you,” said Monica firmly butting into the verbal argy bargy, “but first you have to take the gag off Erin. They stink of mould and dust, and it is very hard to breath with them on. Erin has asthma, so if she has an attack, you will be calling the ambulance or be responsible for what happens to her.”

Michael and Janine exchanged glances, and he shrugged. She walked over to Erin, and dragged off the gag. Erin wheezed a few times to make the asthma story seem real, and finally Monica spoke. “Peter Andrews is not really Peter Andrews. His real name is Maurice Kingston, and he became Peter Andrews in the late 50s. He worked for the Elite Shoe Company in the mail and store room, and he knew Peter Andrews. Peter Andrews, and his sales associate Joe Finsbury disappeared somewhere near Lindsay or Elgin one Saturday night in 1957. This is still an unsolved mystery and nobody to this day knows if they crashed their car after a night of drinking into one of the remote lakes or rivers up there, or if they really did just disappear and move someplace else.”

“Disappear? Like alien abductions?” scoffed Michael elbowing his wife with a nudge.

“Highly unlikely,” said Monica. “They probably moved overseas or to the continent, and are old and happy under assumed names.”

“So how did this Kingston fellow end up in the cottage?” asked Janine.

“He saw a letter to Andrews come into the company mail room. He knew that Andrews had an old auntie who was leaving him her cottage in Coppin’s Locks. He opened the letter, saw that it was a lawyer’s letter saying that he had been left a legacy in a will, and put his plan into action. He came up here, pretended to be Peter Andrews, and even had identity papers made to prove it. The ruse worked, and he was never seen at his job again.”

Janine and Michael Page were stunned. Finally Janine exploded and began to hammer her fists against her husband. “You stupid, stupid man. We will never get a cent from that old geezer cause his will is useless. What else could go wrong?”

“Oh, a lot more,” said Erin entering the conversation. “Monica and I found a recipe box at the old deserted Bellevue hospital. It had some very interesting cards in it with initials that we think are yours and those of a colleague who helped you find buyers for illegitimate babies 30 years ago. Are we right Janine?”

Janine’s jaw dropped. “I want that damn box. If you have it then give it to me right now. That was meant to come with me when the hospital closed down but it got misplaced in the move.”

“Sorry, can’t give it to you because we don’t have it,” lied Erin. “At this very moment it is in the hands of the law and the police are very interested in it. Talking about hands, I think we will find that your fingerprints are all over it, won’t we Janine?”

“You can’t prove a thing,” said Michael with false bravado.

“Actually we can,” said Monica feeling confident. “A woman named Wilhelmina Thompson had a child at the Brewster estate and she recognized you Janine the other day at Maurice Kingston’s house as the nurse who came to help. She overheard Janine on the phone after the birth telling somebody that she thought she’d have another baby to sell. The security guard at the old Bellevue Hospital also described you to perfection. This is pretty incriminating evidence.”

“Nobody but you two girls know about the baby business, and who will believe you anyway, and an old rent a cop?”

“Do you recall the head of the maternity department Janine? Her name was Enid Black. She knew that something funny was going on at the hospital. She resigned three months before the place closed and Monica and I wondered why. She admitted just this afternoon that she was asked to resign and then to do some digging and snooping into the baby business. She was able to dress in disguise, and she got around the hospital easily checking files, looking and listening. She was also looking for information or files, but was never able to find anything. We found them for her in the recipe box. This is the proof that we needed and we now have it.”

Janine and Michael knew that their plans and deceptions had finally caught up with them, but they were not going down without a fight. “Well, we might have a few roadblocks to navigate, but you two are going to be getting very hot very fast,” sneered Michael. He pulled a jug of gasoline out of a large canvas bag, and began to twist open the top. The smell of gas swept through the room. Janine dug in her pocket for a box of matches, and Monica looked at Erin and saw how white her face was. Suddenly the back door of the store banged open and the room was full of people. Police Chief Van Dyck, Sergeant Wickens, Patrick and two other officers barged into the room. Janine and Michael were handcuffed in an instant before they could make a peep, and they were half dragged out into a waiting patrol car kicking and screaming.

“I am so glad to see you,” said Monica as Patrick helped her to her feet on trembling knees.

Sergeant Wickens made his way over to Erin, and rubbed her wrists after untying her. She too felt a little wobbly and he put his strong arms around her.

“I thought we were going to go up in smoke,” she said looking at him and leaning against him. “How did you find us? How did you know?”

“It was Mrs. Honor who thought something was wrong,” said Wickens. “She was riding her bike and it got a flat. She wheeled it down the laneway to your parking lot, and she heard voices coming from the back window. Once she had heard enough, she went over to the pub, and got Jerry to call us for her.”

“Erin, we must treat her to a meal at the pub or to Bonita’s one day,” laughed Monica, “and I’ll pay to get her tire fixed!”

***

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Monica and Erin were tired from their adventures over the past three weeks. Between adopted babies, old Mr. Kingston, disappearing shoe salesmen, and nasty nurses they both felt as if they had done a huge service to their small community. Giles Brewster dropped into the store the next afternoon while they were re-hashing the events. “I wanted to thank you two for all the help and support. Wilhelmina is going to be very happy here, and I understand that she has put her name into an employment agency specializing in home care so that she can get a regular job as time goes on.”

“We have seen her and Mr. Kingston out and about and they seem really well suited,” laughed Erin.

“Um, do you know what van Dyck is going to do about the little deception?” asked Giles looking around to make sure nobody was listening.

Monica moved a little closer to him. “I think that this is one time when certain things might be ignored. Mr. Kingston is really very ill so...” she trailed off.

“I am really rather glad that Van Dyck and Mr. Patterson decided to let sleeping dogs lie as they say. Now onto happier things, I have decided to do a complete renovation on the old estate, and I would like to hire you both as consultants. My wife will be working with you but we will need furniture befitting the style and period of the house, and you will be given a budget in due course. Is that of interest?”

Monica and Erin were speechless. They had been given small decorating jobs in the past but nothing like this, a whole estate.

“Oh, we would be delighted,” said Monica clapping her hands together, “that would be amazing and so much fun.”

“I plan to use the place on holidays and in the summer. My wife, my two sons, and my daughter will spend time there along with the grandchildren. In fact I plan to use the estate for exactly what my father wanted to use it for: fun and family.”

“What about horses?” asked Erin whose mind was never far from her favourite four legged friends.

“I think that in time, I might be interested in getting a few ponies for my grandchildren for the summer months. I will keep them there and then they can be boarded out somewhere in the winter. I understand that you are both accomplished horsewomen. Perhaps you might also be able to help me find suitable ponies when the time comes, probably next summer.”

The girls were walking on air at dinner that evening and Joyce joined them to hear all the news on their sleuthing activities. Patrick opened up a bottle of champagne, and they drank to their successes. At one point Patrick was helping Monica in the kitchen so Erin quietly moved to Joyce on the sofa and held out the card from the jewellery store that she had found in Joyce’s garden. As soon as Joyce saw it she put her finger to her lips and whispered, “Ssshhh. Our little secret, and Patrick’s too. I had to think fast that day. You’ll find out soon. Don’t say a word.” and she winked and put the card in her pocket.

***

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Patrick had practiced what he was going to say over and over. He was nervous on the one hand, but confident on the other. He had suggested an evening stroll with Haggis to Monica along the old rail trail near their house that wound gently across the countryside. In the late evening it was a wonderful place to meander and the birds’ evensong was spectacular as was the low sun painting the fields a golden yellow. The small rivers and lakes were calm and blackbirds flitted about in the marshlands while the occasional eagle could be seen swooping overhead. The words ‘divine, blissful and idyllic’’ came to mind. Patrick had decided on the perfect location, and he suggested to Monica that they walk along a small stretch of beach. He held her hand as they came to a large rock, and he placed his hand in his pocket and began to pull up the white velvet box. “Mon...” he started to say, but before he could continue there was a fury of barking behind him. He turned around to see Scruffy running along the beach towards them and he was making a line for Haggis who was dabbling in the water. Fast on Scruffy’s heels were two familiar figures running with a picnic basket between them.

“Damn,” muttered Patrick letting the box drop into his pocket and forcing a smile. “Well, well, look who is here. Scruffy and his gang!”

“We are having a picnic, care to join us?” asked Erin breathlessly sitting down on the rock. Sergeant Wickens began to open the antique wicker basket.

“There are tons here for all of us,” said Erin, “and we even have some wine. I hope we didn’t interrupt anything. It was Scruffy who saw Haggis and who took off after you two.”

Patrick sighed inwardly and accepted a glass of wine. Bad timing, once again he thought. Better luck next time. Oh well, New Zealand Chardonnays did have a good reputation so all was not lost.

Cheers!

Watered Down Death

Book 1 in the Coppin’s Locks Series

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Five Suspects, Two Sleuths and one Watery Death.

Elderly Dr. Bill Whitehall died in the churning waters of the mill at the bottom of his garden in Coppin’s Locks. But was he alone?

Monica Goodwood and her business partner, Erin O’Malley, owners of Rocking Horse Antiques, dive into discovering the truth about the demise of the old curmudgeon, a man whose best bedside manner was reserved for animals in need and not people in pain.

The idyllic village of Coppin’s Locks with its British style pub, cosy tea shop, trendy boutiques and quirky, colourful characters is abuzz with curiosity. Who wanted the grumpy old man dead? Was it one of the locals, who all seem to have alibis tinged with lies, or is the death linked to the past with hidden details kept secret for decades? And why does the old black and white photograph found in a bureau seem so important to somebody?

Monica’s boyfriend, attractive detective Patrick Lawson, and local Police Chief Van Dyck offer assistance while sometimes turning a blind eye to the girls’ escapades.  As the ‘snoop sisters’ poke and pry looking for answers with help from Haggis, the West Highland terrier, the dark and disturbing events from decades ago hover... entwined and tangled with the Dr.’s death. At least one person in town knows the truth, but nobody is talking!

But, the biggest fear in this quiet backwater is, will the killer strike again?

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Death in Devon

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Book 3 in the Coppin’s Locks Series

featuring Goodwood and O’Malley.

Monica Goodwood and her business partner and sleuthing sidekick Erin O’Malley are back in action.  This time, they are leaving their idyllic village of Coppin’s Locks for an antique buying trip into the quintessential English countryside of Devon on the south west coast of England. But Monica is uneasy. She is sure that she has been here before, but has no idea when or why!

They get their first hint of trouble when they find a body – a very dead body – inside an Edwardian kitchen hutch on Lord William James Delmar’s vast estate.  They were last to see the man alive so suddenly they are suspects!

Then throw in the discovery of an old and very valuable antique mysteriously placed in the room of their B&B, and the girls are in double trouble.  Should they leave the investigating to the local and very attractive police officer, shop for antiques, and enjoy their teas with scones and Devonshire cream?  Never! The girls, known for their sleuthing success, aren’t much good at sitting on the sidelines. They jump into the fray and deal with eccentric villagers, Lady Felicia Delmar, and her son The Honorable Alan Delmar who thinks he is a gift to the world.

Monica and Erin need to do some hefty untangling because the gentry can’t seem to get their stories straight, and the locals, although not born with silver spoons in their mouth, believe that silence is golden.

Book 4 in the Coppin’s Locks Series

featuring Goodwood and O’Malley.

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Resort to Death

In the midst of an epic force nine storm, Opawonga Resort chef Bertha Lundstrom walked into the depths of the kitchen storeroom and into a noose that killed her.

Resort guests Monica Greenwood and friend Erin O’Malley, now stranded on Indian Island, offer to look into the murder, but minutes after their ‘Trash or Treasures’ seminar finishes, another body falls to the floor and dies in Erin’s arms.

On an island rife with blackmail, jealousy, and people full of fear, they have to act fast before the killer strikes again.

Armed with a few photos, old newspaper reports, and a cookbook full of baking and blackmail, the girls must weave together crimes from the past and crimes of the present. Is the killer the jealous head of housekeeping, two employees facing blackmail, or the guest who is a real fish out of water?

Can they pull the elusive threads together and flush out the killer before more people succumb to the murderer’s obsessions?

Resort to Death is suspenseful, awash with island secrets and island life. Interesting and quirky characters reveal that the past never disappears completely and may return when least expected!