Martin Edwards - The Frozen Shroud

‘A trip to Ravenbank? Now I understand your sudden interest in the Frozen Shroud.’

Daniel nodded. ‘One of my fellow speakers turned out to be a neighbour of Melody’s. He told me about Gertrude Smith, and Shenagh Moss.’

‘You’ll love Ravenbank, if you’ve never been that far. Gorgeous spot, and the Hall is marvellous.’

‘You’re so sweet, Marc,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you change your mind and come to the party too? Bring Leigh, if you like.’

Marc shook his head. ‘Sorry, can’t make it. Now, I’d better leave you to talk about Ullswater spectres, while I price up a collection I’ve just bought. It came from the executors of a critic for a literary magazine who never parted with a single review copy. Bliss.’

As he disappeared towards his office, Melody said, ‘Such a shame. You can tell he isn’t over the break-up yet. Ever met his ex? She’s a detective. Very nice, by all accounts, but a workaholic. Can’t be easy for Marc.’

‘Yes, I know Hannah.’

‘He was potty about her. Still is, I’d say. Last year, he was going to bring her along to ours for Hallowe’en, but she was called away at the last minute, something to do with her job. He was furious, though of course we understood. Now she’s dumped him, he realises what he’s … lost.’

Melody’s voice trailed away as she stared into the flames. Daniel guessed she wasn’t thinking about Hannah Scarlett, but within moments she pulled herself together. ‘Oh well, he’s a very good-looking man, and he won’t be on his own for long. Come on, I’m dying for a hot drink. To say nothing of a slice of that fabulous cake.’

‘I starved myself at lunchtime, simply to justify treating myself like this,’ Melody said, as she polished off the last of Leigh Moffat’s home-made lime and pistachio zucchini cake. She’d also indulged in a large glass of Chablis. ‘And I’m going to have to starve myself all over again if I want to squeeze into my party outfit.’

‘Bet it was worth it.’

Daniel had pigged out on the chocolate fudge gateau while answering her questions about The Hell Within. He’d worry about his cholesterol count another day. At least he’d stuck to Earl Grey; he wanted to keep his head clear. Melody wasn’t the most incisive interviewer, more like a rich woman playing at being a writer. But he was filling his face in a bookshop in attractive company. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon.

‘Absolutely. Leigh is a genius. And here she is!’

Leigh Moffat was on patrol, brisk and businesslike as always, keeping an eye on whether her customers were content. ‘Everything okay here?’

‘Need you ask? I really must beg the recipe for this cake from you, it’s utterly divine.’

As Leigh moved to the next table, Melody whispered, ‘I don’t know why she and Marc haven’t shacked up together yet. Only a question of time, if you ask me.’

‘You reckon?’

Melody giggled, and he wondered if the Chablis was her first drink of the day. ‘You must think I’m a horrid old gossip. Poking my nose into other people’s business like a latter day Miss Marple. I’m even passionate about knitting, as well!’

She pointed with childlike pride to the scarf and hat squatting on the spare chair next to her. Daniel duly admired her handiwork before switching the subject.

‘So Ravenbank was the scene of two separate murders. You knew Shenagh Moss. What was she like?’

‘Very pretty.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Shenagh was engaging company.’ Melody considered. ‘She … certainly had the knack of making herself popular.’

Hardly the most fulsome obituary. ‘Nobody disliked her, apart from Craig Meek?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Marc told me that one or two police officers weren’t sure that Meek was guilty.’

Melody pulled a face. ‘They can’t be serious.’

‘A friend of Hannah’s was on the team, and she had doubts.’

‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

‘Even as a local journalist, someone who was on the spot?’

‘Hey, I’d never published anything at that point. It’s only lately that I’ve built up the courage to submit pieces to the local press. It’s not like I’m trained, or anything. I never made it to uni, I spent a few years as a model, would you believe?’ Yes, Daniel could easily believe. ‘I even tried a bit of acting, but I wasn’t much good, not in the same street as Jeffrey or Quin. At the time Shenagh died, I was helping Oz to build up the business. I found myself copywriting, and that led to an interest in journalism. I’ve had a little more time for writing since we employed someone to help with the work.’

He dragged the conversation back to Shenagh Moss. ‘So you never heard any whispers around Ravenbank, nobody hinted that that Craig Meek might have been innocent, after all?’

‘Not a dicky bird. Craig Meek was a nasty piece of work, by all accounts. Besides, if he was innocent, someone else must have been guilty.’ A wary smile. ‘It could be anyone. Goodness, even me.’

‘But you didn’t have any reason to kill her.’

She considered. ‘As it happens, an outsider might think I had every right to kill poor Shenagh. You see, before she turned her attention to Francis Palladino, she’d been shagging my husband.’

Follow that , her disarming smile seemed to say. Daniel was supposed to be good at diplomacy, but her pleasant candour left him choking on his cake. And groping for a suitable response. Two elderly women at the table on their left were debating the best way to make treacle toffee; to their right, a well-dressed couple were moaning about the cost of their kids’ student fees. A cafeteria in a second-hand bookshop in the Lakes wasn’t an obvious venue for a confessional about adultery and murder. Melody Knight was testing him.

‘Did I shock you?’ Her eyes stretched wide in pretend astonishment.

‘I was wondering if you were equally frank with the police after Shenagh died, that’s all.’

‘Ouch!’ She grinned. ‘Oz reckons I talk too much. He says so much for ethnicity, I’m the polar opposite of an inscrutable Oriental. Though I was born in Morpeth, would you believe? Yes, yes, it’s true. My dad was a Geordie, my mum came over from Singapore when she was seventeen. Unfortunately, my dad ran off with a barmaid when I was a baby, and Mum died when I was five, so I finished up living with my uncle and aunt.’

Daniel wasn’t prepared to be sidetracked. ‘About Shenagh …’

‘What happened between Oz and Shenagh was an open secret. I’m not telling you anything you wouldn’t find out if you speak to anyone at Ravenbank.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Was Melody’s frankness misleading? Why had she wanted to meet today? She’d learnt little more about his book or the history of murder than she’d heard in his lecture. A quick internet search could have answered the biographical questions she’d asked.

‘Oz is fantastic, but he’s also notorious, he’s the first to admit it. When he and I got together, he did make it clear I was buying into the whole package, not just the lovely bits. His affairs never last long. But you know something? I’m the only woman he’s ever stayed with for more than eighteen months. Let alone married.’

‘Must be love, eh?’

‘Whatever it is, it works.’ Protesting too much, Daniel thought. ‘Anyway, Oz wasn’t the only notch on Shenagh’s bedpost. But in my honest opinion, it’s barking up a blind alley to suggest Meek didn’t murder her. The case of Gertrude Smith was much more puzzling and macabre.’

‘Although everyone thought it was open and shut?’

‘Exactly. But I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s an intriguing case.’ Her expression suggested an angler, about to reel in her catch. ‘The build-up to this Hallowe’en started me thinking about it properly for the first time. And the more I mull it over, the more I’m convinced Letty Hodgkinson suffered an injustice.’