Poppy lay back on the cushions, trailing her fingers lazily through the water. It was a beautiful spring day in Oxford, and she and Daniel were sharing the Cherwell with a mother duck and her brood. She looked up at her fiancé gallantly attempting to punt them down the river. She smiled at him, basking for a moment in the sunshine of their love.
“So,” he said, eventually, “explain to me how that policewoman managed to save you. I’m not sure I’ve got the whole thing straight in my mind.”
“Well, she didn’t actually save me. I could have got out on my own, but she – and Annabel – helped me save the professor. The doctors say he’s going to be all right. Thank God.”
“Yes, but how did she know you were there?”
“Ah,” said Poppy, “that’s thanks to Annabel. It seems that she came back to June’s room to check on me in the middle of the plumbing incident and saw that I was gone. She looked out the window, across the quadrangle, and saw me and Larry Leighton heading to the gatehouse. She knew who Larry was, as he’d previously visited his sister at the college. And she’d just read June’s letter with me, which pointed the finger of blame at Larry.
“She hurried to catch up with us, but we were gone before she got there. She said the porter tried to collar her but she was too quick for him. That girl should try out for the ladies’ Olympic running team!”
Daniel chuckled. “Go on.”
“Well, she told me that she decided to run to the police station, and on the way bumped into Rosie Winter, who was heading to the hospital for her shift of guarding Sophie. Then, she and Rosie went looking for me. They guessed I might have been taken to the Crystal Crypt, but they weren’t entirely sure. Just as well they went with their intuition!”
“Just as well,” said Daniel, looking down at her, his face awash with concern. “And Sophie? I hear she’s going to be all right.”
“Yes,” said Poppy, with relief, “she is. I told Fenchurch that Larry was planning on having her killed. He sent some officers to back up the guard at her room and wouldn’t let any doctors or nurses near her on their own until they found out who was intending to harm her.”
“And who was?”
“Well, Larry and Guthrie were caught yesterday afternoon in a roadblock between Oxford and London. Fenchurch had wasted no time getting the news out that they were on the run and giving out a description of the car Guthrie had been driving. It seems that they were planning on leaving the country, but Larry was going back to London first to pick up a stash of gems.
“Guthrie and Larry quickly turned on each other, and it didn’t take long for the police to get the names of all the co-conspirators.”
“Mackintosh and Raines?” asked Daniel.
Poppy shook her head. “Surprisingly not. Turns out their lie about leaving the dinner through the Broad Street entrance was because they had actually followed me, intending to give me a dressing down and warn me off digging any further into June and the laboratory. They didn’t want their bad conduct – Mackintosh’s plagiarism and Raines’ sleazy behaviour – to be splashed all over the press. But by the time they got through the gate, the taxi had arrived for me.”
“So why didn’t they just admit they’d exited that way? No one was to know they were trying to collar you.”
Poppy shrugged. “Seems like they’d got it into their heads that I was out to pin the blame on them for anything I could, and they didn’t want to give me the opportunity to suggest they might have had a hand in Gertrude’s attack. So they claimed they were nowhere near the vicinity at the time so they wouldn’t be falsely accused.” She chuckled. “They obviously had me down as the type of woman who would falsely accuse a man just out of spite.” She smiled, wryly. “I suppose they were right to a point. I was trying to pin the blame on them. But in the end the real evidence didn’t point to them. They told Fenchurch they feared I was trying to stitch them up.”
Daniel grinned down at her. “But you’re not letting them get away scot-free though, are you?”
Poppy gave a mischievous smile. “Not on your Nellie! Their despicable treatment of June will be splashed all over the press. And Gertrude is going to pursue them through the University’s disciplinary channels.”
Daniel smiled, joining Poppy in her enjoyment of the fact that justice would be served. “So,” he said eventually, “who were the co-conspirators? Who was going to hurt Sophie?”
“Sorry,” said Poppy. “That’s the most important bit in all this, isn’t it? It was a hospital porter. Recruited, it seems, by the porter at Somerville, who, by the way, also admitted to tampering with my brakes. They arrested both porters as soon as Larry and Guthrie spilled the beans. So, Sophie was safe. She woke up last night, and according to Rollo was able to confirm that it was Guthrie who attacked her. She’s still got a long way to go in her recovery, but she’s very happy to hear that Lionel Saunders will finally face justice.”
Daniel ducked under a curtain of willow fronds. “Aren’t we all. I was delighted to hear he’d been arrested in the newsroom of the Courier, in front of all his colleagues while he was gathering some files to destroy. Seems like he jumped on the next train back to London after trying to get that briefcase from Rollo. Didn’t even have the sense to get out of town. Is it clear yet how he got involved with the whole June Leighton story?”
Poppy shrugged. “Rollo and I are still trying to work out all the details, but it seems that there was a dirty copper on the Oxford force – an Inspector Birch. He and the police pathologist here had been paid off by Larry. Birch is away on holiday. So, when I arrived in Oxford asking questions at the Crystal Crypt, Reg Guthrie contacted Larry. Larry sent a telegram to Birch at his holiday hotel, telling him to come home and sort me out. Birch refused to cut his holiday short and instead gave Larry Richard Easling’s name in London and tasked him with trying to find out what Rollo and I knew about what was going on. When Easling heard Sophie was involved in it too, that gave him the idea to recruit Lionel to snoop around the Globe offices, as he had done when Bert Isaacs was murdered. He came across Rollo with a file on the Sanforths and the Leightons, and knocked him out. But stupid Lionel didn’t realise Ivan would have copies of everything – and a near-photographic memory.”
Daniel grinned. “It still amazes me that someone as dim as him has managed to evade justice for so long. But not anymore. I hear Lord Dorchester – and Richard Easling – are turning on him. Dorchester to get parole; Easling to have his impending sentence reduced.”
“Yes, that’s what Rollo told me too,” said Poppy. “Justice really can be sweet.”
“And what of Edward Sanforth? Did Larry implicate him as well?”
Poppy shook her head. “No. It seems the only thing Edward was guilty of was being a jealous fiancé and not supporting June when she needed him most.”
“I hope you don’t think the same of me, Poppy?”
Poppy looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “Why do you say that, Daniel?”
“Hold on.” Daniel stopped punting and negotiated the boat to the bank. He jumped out and tied the guy rope to a tree trunk, then climbed gingerly back into the punt, trying not to lose his balance.
Poppy made room for him on the cushions and he sat down beside her. She snuggled into the crook of his arm.
Eventually he spoke. “Poppy, I know you fear I’ll try to stop you doing your detection work and that Rollo thinks the same; Ivan told me. And that’s why you didn’t tell me everything that was going on here as you were both worried I’d rush up and interfere.”
“Well, that’s not exactly true …”
“Isn’t it?”
“Well, all right; yes, it is. I’m sorry, Daniel. I love my work, and I love you, and it will break my heart if I can’t have both, but I will give it all up for you if you want me to.”
Daniel turned his head towards her so that his grey eyes looked directly into her blue. “But what if I don’t want you to?”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled gently. “Oh Poppy. Your bravery and courage and curiosity and cleverness and stubbornness and relentless pursuit of the truth and justice for victims are all part of what I love about you. Yes, I worry. And yes, I can’t promise I won’t ever try to get you to be more careful in your investigations, but when I finally asked you to marry me – five years after I should have done in the first place – it was with the understanding that this is who you are. And that I need to love all of you, or none of you. Is that good enough for you?”
Poppy sighed, a weight of worry lifting from her heart. “Yes! Yes! Thank you, my love. That’s more than good enough for me. You are more than good enough for me.” She turned her body so that she was lying on top of him, her face hovering above his. “And now, Mr Rokeby, my husband-to-be, I’m going to kiss you.”
He chuckled. “Goodness, Miss Denby. That’s not what a proper young lady would do.”
She smiled, then softened her lips, ready for a kiss. “Perhaps,” she muttered, lowering her head, “I’m no longer that proper young lady.”
If you loved Fiona’s gripping and absolutely cosy mysteries, make sure you don’t miss out on her brand new series: featuring Miss Clara Vale, chemist-turned-detective extraordinaire.
The Picture House Murders
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The Penford Manor Murders