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It was a quiet Sunday morning that I was spending reading in my pyjamas when the doorbell rang. My heart fluttered with the hope that it could be Alistair, though there was no reason for him to be here. Apart from my crazy animal magnetism. I went downstairs and opened the door.
“Eleanor, how nice to see you,” I said and eyed the box with baked goods she carried.
She grinned. “These are not for you, sweetheart. I thought that perhaps we could go over to Patricia and express our condolences. I know you were fond of Victor as well.”
But not Patricia. “Come on in and let me get changed.”
She followed me up the stairs and sat down in the reception area while I changed in my bedroom. Even though she knew I’d always liked Victor, I didn’t think she brought me along for that reason. Perhaps part of her was suspicious of Patricia and that’s why she wanted me there. Or perhaps she simply didn’t want to face her on her own. Either way, this was the perfect opportunity to find out more about her relationship with Victor. She must have suspected he was a cheater. Patricia was a shrewd woman and usually found at the top of the rumour mill.
When I was done, we headed over to Patricia’s house. It looked the same as when I walked past it the last time, and I wondered if she was lonely now that he was gone. Even if he was a cheater, she’d lived with him and now there was a void that wasn’t easy to fill.
Eleanor rang the doorbell and pasted on a smile before the door even opened. I imagined she had to fake smile a lot around Patricia Woodsbury. Something I wouldn’t be doing.
Patricia answered the door after a moment. Her light hair was styled, and her makeup not too heavy. Her outfit matched her shoes, and she looked like she was ready for a photo shoot. It was probably the reason she was so popular. Women looked up to her because she reminded them of a perfectly put-together life. Not that she had one, but because she appeared to have one.
“What a lovely surprise,” she said without smiling.
“We just wanted to express our condolences,” Eleanor said. “We wanted to give you some time to adjust first. I hope we’re not intruding.”
“Not at all.” She stepped aside to let us in.
The corridor smelt as sweet as her perfume. I managed to keep my expression neutral even if I was vomiting on the inside. We went through to the reception area which held a fireplace and expensive cream-coloured furniture. There wasn’t a spot of dirt to be found anywhere. I had to say I was impressed.
“Please, sit. I’ll fetch us a spot of tea.” Patricia disappeared into the hallway and left us to admire the antique vases displayed in all corners of the room. She had paintings up as well. I didn’t recognise them, but they were gorgeous and looked expensive.
We sat down just as Patricia returned with three cups and a plate of biscuits. There were only three of them. The humanity.
“How are you doing?” Eleanor asked with a heavy dose of sympathy.
“It was dreadful, as you can imagine.” She narrowed her eyes at me for some reason.
“Yes, of course.” Eleanor grabbed a cup of tea and sipped it. “It must have been a huge shock.”
I knew Eleanor wouldn’t say too much about it, because of the curse and the implication that he was a cheater, which I already knew he was. Eleanor also wouldn’t pry because she considered it rude. But that wouldn’t stop me, and that’s why she’d brought me along, the wily woman. Though married to a vicar, she was still human. She wanted as much information as possible herself, not as gossip material, but simply because she was curious.
“Did you know that he invited us—me and Nancy—to discuss something with him?” I asked.
She lifted her head ever so slightly as if to remind me that she was literally looking down at me. “Not at the time, but afterwards Alistair told me.”
Alistair? I clenched my jaw.
“Calm down, girl,” Detective Black said. “Keep her talking.”
“Do you have any idea what it could have been about?”
“Not at all.”
“Had he visited that hotel before?”
“No,” she said coldly.
“They have done it up nicely. It’s a beautiful place.” I grabbed a biscuit. When Patricia didn’t reply, I said: “Have you been?”
“No, and I doubt I will.” She sipped her tea. “How’s your husband?” she asked Eleanor.
The next minutes consisted of idle chit-chat, but I was willing to play along. She didn’t like these questions, probably because she knew I was investigating the murder. But if she knew that and was playing hard to get, didn’t that mean she had something to hide? Although she didn’t seem like the type to share information about herself anyway.
After an appropriate pause in the conversation, Eleanor excused herself to go to the bathroom and left me alone with the bubbly Patricia.
Crickets might as well have chirped. She refused to make eye contact and continued sipping her tea. But I was not easily deterred.
“I really am sorry about Victor. He seemed like a good man.”
She glanced at me. “I appreciate that.”
“Do you really have no idea who would want to do something that awful to him?” I asked, my voice soft.
“You mean to me, don’t you? He’s dead, it doesn’t bother him anymore. I’m the one who has to go on without him.” There were some cracks of emotion in her self-made mask.
I said nothing.
“But if you must know, I think you should look at the hotel.”
“Because of the curse?”
“No,” she said, frowning. “Because of those newcomers. I don’t trust them. Besides, why—of all places—did he invite you over to that ghastly hotel?”
I had wondered that as well. Perhaps I could find out more about Mr and Mrs Field.
After a few moments Eleanor returned and when the biscuits were all finished—by me—we left. Patricia saw us out and shut the door after a ‘toodeloo’ which sounded so cavalier that it didn’t match the type of conversation we’d had at all. She was definitely a woman who was good at hiding what she thought and felt. Something she actually had in common with Susan.
“Do you think she’s the killer?” Eleanor asked.
“I don’t know. I’m sure the police have looked into that.”
“I heard she had an alibi.”
“From whom?” I asked.
“I’m pretty sure from her. Well, not directly. She told Olivia and she told Poppy—”
“I get the picture,” I said, holding up my hand. “But we have little to go on when it comes to her. Perhaps Mr and Mrs Field know more about it. I mean, it is weird that he booked a room at the Pembroke just to speak to Nancy and I.”
“Maybe he was depressed and wanted to talk about that,” Eleanor said.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What makes you think that?”
“I may have gone upstairs to check out the medicine cabinet.”
“Eleanor!”
“Well, I had to do something while you were asking her questions. Anyway, the pills were for him, not her. There was also hemorrhoid cream. That could have been for her.” She giggled.
“This is not funny,” I said in a stern voice.
“No, quite right.” Then she giggled again.
I smiled. “She needs the cream because she has a huge stick up her—”
“Honey,” Harold called. He pushed his wheelchair over the cobbled streets with relative ease. He had a lot of practice, after all, having lived here for most of his life. “I need your help at the church. How’s Patricia?”
We looked at each other.
“Fine,” we said simultaneously.
“Okay,” he said with a puzzled look. “And how are you, Maggie? Finding Victor must have been a terrible shock.”
“It was, but I’ll feel better when I catch his killer.”
He nodded slowly. “Just be careful. This is someone who is obviously very perturbed.”
“Yes, it is.” Which is also why it was important we figured out who it was.
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WHEN I ARRIVED AT THE bookshop, I had the intention of going up to read and possibly even write, but instead Eddie came running after he poked his head out from behind the curtain. The closest he usually got to exercise was opening the fridge, not that I was judging him.
“We caught the sounds of a ghost on the equipment,” he said, panting with excitement.
“I’m telling you, there are no ghosts, spirits or other curse-related beings in that hotel.” We were starting to catch the attention of a few customers, so I moved us to the corner.
“When we played it back and isolated the sound we had heard, it was a clear woman’s voice.”
“And what did this woman say?”
“Justice.”
“Justice?” I muttered. “How lame.”
Eddie scoffed. “Don’t ridicule the serial killer ghost. She might come after you.”
“Better strap a hoover on my back then.”
“Okay, don’t you dare mock that film.” He pointed at me.
“They’re the ones mocking themselves.” I pointed back at him. “And how do you know it’s a ghost?”
“It has to be. It sounded a bit muffled and strange, but powerful.”
“And now what? Will the ghost hunters ask the spirit to have some tea with them?” I asked.
“No, they’ll just tell Mr Field what they’ve concluded and leave.”
“They’ll leave? So basically they’ll just tell someone they are haunted and then just leave them with that information?”
Eddie tilted his head as he thought about this, then nodded.
“Well, that’s kind of awful. Not that Mr Field has that problem, because it’s not a ghost.”
Eddie put his hand on his hip. “Really? Have you heard the voice recording? How do you know?”
I grinned. “Actually, I might be able to prove it. I have a plan.”
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“I’D LIKE TO BOOK A room for one, please,” I said to Mr Field that evening.
He raised an eyebrow at me.
“A—are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve always wanted to stay in the Pembroke Hotel. It’s so beautiful. Besides, I’m experiencing writer’s block and a change of scenery will do me good, even if it’s only one night.”
He forced a smile. “I hope so.”
After he made me sign the ledger and handed me the key to my room, 109, I made it up the stairs with my backpack. I had brought pyjamas, but I had no intention of sleeping. Tonight I’d be sleuthing.