M Beaton - There Goes The Bride

‘Have you any idea at all who might have killed her?’ asked Agatha.

He scratched his head of thick brown hair. ‘See, it’s like this. Her was provo… pro…’

‘Provocative?’

‘That’s the word. Right little prick teaser. Now, if her ’ad been found in the woods, like, strangled and raped and all, well, everyone would like, say, her’d been asking fer it. But shot! You’d best be asking around for folks with guns.’

Meanwhile, Toni was sitting in the parlour of the cosy cottage belonging to Mrs Fellows and Mrs Dimity. Over cups of tea, she had learned that the pair were widows and had moved in together to pool expenses. Either they had always looked alike, or proximity and age had given them the appearance of sisters. Both looked to be in their late fifties, and they both had the same tightly permed grey hair, round comfortable figures, and small twinkling eyes.

‘But we don’t know who could have killed Miss Felicity, and that’s a fact,’ said Mrs Fellows, ‘unless it was that fiancé of hers.’

‘Mr Lacey? Why him?’ asked Toni.

The women looked at each other uneasily and then Mrs Dimity said earnestly, ‘Well, seeing as how you’re investigating for Mrs Bross…’

‘You just call her Mrs Bross?’

‘Her full name’s such a mouthful. Like I was saying, on account of that Mr Lacey there were lots of shouting and rows. When Mr Lacey heard about them Naked Servants, he hit the roof and called Mrs Bross vulgar. Mr Bross tried to punch him but Mr Lacey pushed him down into a chair and said he’d changed his mind and he didn’t want to get married. Miss Felicity cried something awful. Mr Bross threatened Mr Lacey with breach of promise and everything else. At last Mr Lacey said, tired-like, “Don’t cry, Felicity. I’ll go through with it.” And Miss Felicity brightened up no end and starts talking about arrangements for the wedding with her mother. To my way of thinking, Miss Felicity was always a bit simple.’

‘Why all the tight security?’ asked Toni.

‘It’s always been like that since they came here. But we know on the day of the wedding, them dogs were locked up and the gates were standing open, ready for the bride to be driven to church,’ said Mrs Dimity. ‘After the local lads were caught spying on Miss Felicity, that’s when Mr Bross went raging to Jerry and said he wasn’t doing his job right. But there were always burglar alarms all over the place and security lights.’

‘How did the boys get past the security?’

‘They came in from the river,’ said Mrs Fellows.

‘Are there many boats on the river?’

‘A few. Mr Bross, he wanted to claim the part of the river at the bottom of his property as private property, but he couldn’t get to do that because it’s a sort of right of way for other boats going down to the coast.’

‘So on the day of the murder,’ said Toni eagerly, ‘someone could have come by boat and -’

Mrs Fellows interrupted her. ‘No, no. Think about it. If anyone had arrived that way carrying a gun in broad daylight, they would have been seen walking up from the river and across the garden.’

‘Was Felicity maybe cheating on Mr Lacey?’ suggested Toni.

‘Don’t think she had the time, and that’s a fact,’ said Mrs Dimity. ‘Mrs Bross said they were always travelling here and there. They hadn’t been engaged that long. Mind you, during the winter, Mr Lacey went off on his own for about six weeks and Felicity and her parents went to Spain.’

‘To do business?’

‘No, just for a holiday, they said. Mind you, we had to keep on cleaning,’ said Mrs Fellows. ‘Mrs Bross said she didn’t want to see a bit of dust when she got back. Wait a bit. I ’member Jerry went with them and some man came to look after the grounds and the dogs. What was his name, Ruby?’

Mrs Ruby Dimity sat in thought. Then she said, ‘Got it. Sean was his name. Just Sean. Didn’t learn any other name. Irish as the pigs of Derry, he was.’

‘What was he like?’

‘Hard to tell. Kept himself to himself. Didn’t even come up to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Tall chap. Youngish. Well, young to us. Maybe about thirty. Brown hair, plain face, nothing special, but very fit. He’d walk those dogs for miles.’

Although Toni persevered for a while with more questions, she couldn’t get any more information out of them.

As she was leaving their cottage, her mobile rang. It was Agatha. ‘Find out anything?’

A little bit,’ said Toni. ‘Where are you?’

‘In the pub. Bert’s just left.’

‘I’ll join you.’

‘You first,’ said Agatha when Toni sat down beside her. Toni told her about Sean. Agatha brightened. ‘Well, at least that’s someone new to pursue. We’ll get back to Olivia and find out where he is, where they got him from. Anything else?’

‘I’m afraid our two cleaning ladies think it might be James. They heard James having one hell of a row over the Naked Servants and saying he wanted out of the engagement and Bross tried to punch him and then threatened him. Felicity began to cry and James at last said he would go ahead with it.’

‘If the police haven’t got that bit of information yet, they soon will,’ said Agatha gloomily.

‘What about Bert?’

‘Not much use, except that he said Felicity wasn’t just undressing, she was actually well aware of her watchers and doing a striptease.’

‘Cow!’

‘Exactly She was the full moo, believe me. Let’s get back to the house of horrors and see if we can get an address for Sean.’

Olivia looked puzzled for a moment and then her face cleared. ‘Oh, Sean Fitzpatrick. I remember. He lives on his boat down at the marina in Hewes.’

‘What is the name of his boat?’ asked Agatha.

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Where is the marina?’

‘I’m not very good at directions. But anyone in Hewes will tell you.’

‘That’s odd,’ said Agatha as they drove off.

‘What’s odd?’ asked Toni.

‘Well, the funeral should be soon, as soon as they release the body. But Olivia looked quite perky, considering her precious daughter is not long dead.’

‘Maybe she’s just putting a brave face on it,’ said Toni. ‘Actually, she does look as if she’s full of some sort of pills. She’s probably on a heavy dose of antidepressants. No one’s supposed to grieve these days. Let’s find this Sean.’

After asking in Hewes for directions to the marina, they found it at the foot of a long winding cobbled street. Various expensive-looking yachts bobbed at anchor along with smaller craft. There was a small stone jetty and on the shore were several trendy boutiques and cafés with tables outside where a few brave people crouched over cups of coffee in a blustery wind.

‘There’s an office on that jetty,’ said Agatha as they both got out of the car. ‘We’ll try there.’

In the office, a man who looked as if he were dressed for the part of a nautical extra in a film sat behind a desk. He wore what Agatha had seen advertised as ‘a genuine Greek fisherman’s hat’ on his head and a white Aran sweater over a tattersall shirt with a silk cravat tucked into the neckline. Although surely aware of them standing in front of him, he continued to write something on a pad.

Agatha waited a few minutes and then said crossly, ‘Okay, you’ve impressed us with the fact that you are a busy man. We’ve got it. We’re suitably impressed. We want to ask you a few questions.’

He looked up, feigning tolerant amusement, and tipped his chair back. He had a craggy face with deep pouches under his eyes. ‘Want a boat?’

‘No,’ said Agatha. ‘Or rather, a particular boat. Sean Fitzpatrick’s.’

‘What’s he been up to now? Seduced your daughter?’