The Fete of Death Read online

  Nancy's face was bright red. She stared at her phone as if she expected it to start ringing again.

  "Dennis?" asked Sally, wanting to prompt Nancy into telling them every detail.

  "Yes. Apparently the police need to speak to Susan Smythe urgently, but no one seems to know where she is since she went to the tearoom earlier. I expect she's gone to get drunk again. Some nosy residents saw us or should I say you, breaking into the caravan and rang the police! I denied everything of course, but I'm sure he didn't believe me. Luckily, he said it was still locked when they went to check it so they can't prove that we were there.

  "Thank goodness for the twin's hidden talents," said Tara.

  "He said the bridge should be opened again by tea time tomorrow," said Nancy, putting her mobile into her coat pocket.

  Molly sighed. "Another long day in Tarndale?"

  "It'll be a busy day though. We've had it easy today. Tomorrow's the day when we unmask the murderer! Simon Salter's days of freedom are numbered ladies, and we’re the ones who are going to confront him. It'll be dangerous I’m sure, but exciting too!" said Tara Trott, imagining the frenzy when four ordinary women solved the murders in only three days and the police, still baffled, can only thank them for a job well done. Then they all settled down to watch a film as they were all too excited to sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  They all got up early, eager to eat their breakfasts as quickly as possible then leave the bed-and-breakfast because Dana Felchar’s steely gaze was getting slightly intimidating and they had a lot to do before leaving the village around mid-day. They ran out of the dining room door before Dana had the chance to throw their breakfasts in the bin too.

  "Right ladies," said Tara, feeling rather full after her hearty full English breakfast. "Today's the day! Simon Salter - we're coming for you!" she said, pointing down the road, towards his field.

  "You're going to get him to pull your car out first though, aren't you?" asked Sally, looking worried.

  "Of course I am! Otherwise we'll have to push it out ourselves but I still think the tractor’s the best option, don't you?"

  "Oh, look, a horse! We used to own a bay mare like that. ‘Duchess’, she was called. She was our first pony," said Molly turning round to watch the horse walk towards them up the quiet country road, ridden by its young rider.

  "Hi ladies," said the rider, stopping her horse when she reached them.

  "Cheryl! Is this your horse? She's lovely! I was just saying how much she looks like a pony we once owned, Duchess," said Molly, stroking the horse's sweaty shoulder.

  "Yes, this is 'Fizzle'. We've just been out for a ride. We’re entered in a long distance ride in a few weeks’ time so I've got to get her fit," she said, her cheeks red.

  "No Annabel with you today?"

  "She would have been, but her riding hat's gone missing. She will leave it lying around though."

  "She missed out then?"

  "Yes, but she's a bit upset to be honest, so even if she could have gone with me today, I don't think she would have done."

  "Why's that?"

  "Simon Salter’s given us both a week's notice. We've been evicted off the field."

  "Why? I thought only Samantha Inkler wanted to sell the field? If she's not around to push the sale through, surely the field's safe now?"

  "That's what we thought, but he said the fete and the flash flood has completely wrecked the field. He said there won't be enough grass for all of the horses now, there's only enough for his, so we have to move off after all. Annabel's heartbroken. She’ll have to sell her horses because she can't afford to keep them anywhere else. I'm lucky really, my parents help me to pay for Fizzle."

  "That's a shame, I hope Annabel's okay." said Sally, knowing first-hand what having to sell a pony because of a lack of finances felt like.

  "We're going to have words with Simon Salter. We're going there now as a matter of fact," said Molly, tight-lipped.

  "I'd be careful if I were you, he's in a right mood. I'll give you Annabel's phone number. If you can get Simon to somehow change his mind about throwing us off, can you give her a ring? She won't listen to me. She's unbelievably stubborn at times."

  They all stared at Cheryl open mouthed as they saw her pull out a pink notebook out of the bum bag round her slim waist and write a phone number on it. It had a border of red hearts. It was the same notebook the note to Adam Pinder had been written on.

  Tara took the paper off her with a trembling hand. Her mind was working overtime. She'd never truly suspected Cheryl Trellan! If she was the one having the affair with Adam Pinder...and she'd killed Samantha Inkler for nothing, she certainly didn't seem very bothered about it.

  "I'll probably see you at the stables in a bit, I've got to walk Fizzle round with a loose girth and let her cool off before I take her back. See you later," she said, pushing her notebook back into her bum bag before setting off again.

  "So! Cheryl Trellan and Adam Pinder, eh?" said Nancy, whistling.

  "I can't believe it! She's no killer!" said Molly, aghast.

  "I don't know what to think. It's the exact same paper though, there's no getting away from it. She's got - or at least she had possible motives for both murders," said Tara, feeling that somehow she was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

  "But she doesn't need to sell her horse, she can afford to go somewhere else," wailed Sally, feeling like she had to stick up for the girl who reminded her so much of herself.

  "Okay, let's just go and get Simon Salter dealt with, shall we? I'm pretty sure he's the real murderer and we'll know for sure by the time we leave him, I guarantee it," said Tara, her head in a spin.

  They argued with each other over their new surprise suspect till they reached the stable gates. It was eerily quiet, even the horses made no sound. They were all stood still in their stables, watching the four walk furtively round the yard.

  They’d shouted the usual "hello? Anyone there? Simon?", but got no answer. Feeling a bit braver, they took the opportunity to have a good look around. The stables had obviously been handmade by Simon Salter. They were functional, but a bit rough and ready with their patched roofs and unmatched doors. A shed had its door open and Tara was the first to peer inside.

  "Tack room," she said to the others.

  "We've not been in a tack room for years!" said Molly, pushing past Tara to go inside.

  "Can you smell the leather? Oh, it brings back memories, this does!"

  Nancy was frowning.

  "What's up with you, do you not like the smell of leather?" asked Tara.

  "That's a riding hat, shoved under that grooming box."

  "So?"

  "So, I thought Cheryl just said it was lost?"

  "Maybe she lied? Maybe she's been lying to us all the time? Or maybe it's one of Cheryl's hats, not Annabel's?" shrugged Tara.

  Molly bent down to pick the hat up. "It is Annabel's hat. It’s got her name written inside it and I recognise it from the other day. They both had their hats with them in the cake tent."

  "I'm not surprised she lost it in that riot," said Tara. “But then, how did it end up back in here?”

  "Almonds," said Molly, looking at Tara.

  "What?" asked Tara.

  "Inside the hat smells of almonds, there's a stain too which looks very much like blackcurrant to me," said Molly, holding the hat out.

  Sally was opening cupboards. "The pie! You won’t believe it, it's in this cupboard!" she said, excitedly.

  Tara raced over but was beaten to it by the ever energetic Nancy.

  "Smells like the pie we've been looking for, or what's left of it anyway. Samantha Inkler ate almost half of it and there's barely a quarter of it left now. Who else would eat it though, knowing it was laced with arsenic?" asked Molly.

  "Someone who perhaps didn't know Samantha Inkler had been poisoned by a pie? Someone who wasn't there when she collapsed? Where is Simon Salter, anyway? He should be around here somewhere," asked Tara
, feeling the fleas start to jump around in her bones again.

  A short search found Simon Salter. His head was being propped up by a pitch fork as he sat on a mildew smeared wooden chair, looking out across his beloved field. A note was tucked into his padded, red-checked shirt pocket.

  "Is he dead?" asked Sally, quietly biting her lip and tip-toeing towards him. She half expected him to leap up and angrily chase them off the place with the pitchfork.

  "Yes, but there’s no visible injury. Let's hope that note in his pocket tells us more," said Tara.

  She reached for the note, sliding it carefully out of his pocket, feeling like she was robbing the dead.

  "Almonds," said Molly, inhaling deeply.

  Tara unfolded the note. It had been written on the same pastel pink notepaper, bordered with blood red hearts, as the note she'd found in Adam Pinder's caravan.

  It said -

  ‘You've found me, I'm the one you’ve all been looking for. I killed Adam Pinder and Samantha Inkler and Mr Simmons, by accident. It was all in vain though, because I can't live with the guilt. I decided to eat humble pie, and have a bit of my own medicine. I wanted to have one last look at my beloved field, ruined as it is.

  Goodbye cruel world

  SIMON SALTER.’

  "That explains the chair and pitchfork then," said Nancy, grimly.

  "What a shame. His obsession over this field caused four deaths," said Sally, hugging herself.

  "I guess we'll have to ring the police now," said Molly, quietly.

  "Not a chance!" snapped Tara.

  They all looked at her in surprise.

  "Why not?" asked Nancy.

  "Because I want to leave this place at some point today. If we call it in there'll be questions, statements etc, etc. He's killed himself, it's not a murder, he's admitted he's the murderer - mystery solved. Let's just forget we had the misfortune of finding him and maybe we can get the hell out of here within the hour," said Tara, tight lipped.

  "Poor Cheryl Trellan will be back soon, we can't leave her to find him on her own. It'd be a terrible shock for her," said Sally, toying with her topaz necklace.

  "It's only because we were being nosy that we found him. She might not find him. Maybe someone else will," said Tara.

  "What about the riding hat?"

  "Put it back where you found it. Let's just leave everything exactly as we found it. If anyone asks, we came here, couldn't see anyone about, so we left. Which is what we should have done. But no, we had to investigate the tack room," said Tara.

  "I'm a bit confused... I thought you wanted to solve the crime, take all the credit and go back to Nithercott triumphant. Or am I missing something?" asked Nancy, frowning.

  "We've solved the crime; we just got here too late for us to stop him from stealing our victory from under us, that's all. He did do it, just as we suspected he did. He can't be brought to justice though now, can he? And he can't get my car out either!"

  The others looked over at Tara's car, still stuck in the field.

  "I don't suppose one of you can drive a tractor?" Tara asked.

  "Tractor driving isn't in our repertoire," said Sally.

  "We could give it a go though?" asked Molly, who had always fancied driving a tractor.

  "No, we'd best leave before Cheryl Trellan gets back or anyone else for that matter. I'll have to think of something else to get my car out. Have you got your phone, Nancy? Mine's back at the bed-and-breakfast, the battery's dead."

  "I'm not surprised! What were you looking up on it all last night?" asked Nancy, fishing her mobile out of her jacket pocket.

  "I was Googling things relevant to the case. I forgot I didn't have the charger with me."

  "Who are you ringing? The police?" asked Sally, hopefully.

  "No, come on, I can talk as we walk. I'm ringing Annabel Thompson," Tara said as she unfolded the paper Cheryl Trellan had written the number on.

  "What for?" asked Nancy.

  "To see if she's alright for one thing and to ask her about the herbal teas at the coffee shop."

  "Why? I don't see how herbal tea is relevant anymore," said Nancy.

  "Loose ends. We might know who the murderer was but there's still questions that need answering. Hello? Is that Annabel Thompson? It's Tara Trott. Trott. Cheryl Trellan gave it to me. Yes, she's out on her horse. There's no need to be like that. I only wanted to know you're alright. No, I suppose not. I just need to ask you about the herbal teas. Teas. In the coffee shop? No, of course I'm not accusing you of poisoning your customers. No. Well, I didn't think...that wasn't my intention I can assure you. The police? I hardly think..I only asked you a simple question...now steady on! You're overreacting. It's not...money? I don't want any money...there's obviously been a misunderstanding here. If you'd just let me explain...I could..." Tara looked at the phone in dismay. The others waited for her to speak. Tara re-dialled Annabel Thompson's number several times, but she wouldn't answer it.

  They left the stables and walked a short distance before they reached the quiet high street.

  "I don't understand how that happened, really I don't," she said, shaking her head.

  "What did she say about the herbal teas?"

  "Nothing! She just accused me of trying to blackmail her."

  "What?" asked Molly, shocked.

  "I know, for money! As if I need money! I only asked her a question!"

  "Yeah, but what's she saying though?" asked Nancy.

  "She thought I was insinuating that they were planning to poison people in the coffee shop and unless she gave me money, I'd go to the police telling them that. All nonsense of course."

  "She's had a traumatic couple of days, that young girl. Maybe she's having some kind of breakdown?" suggested Sally.

  "She certainly sounded excitable," agreed Tara. "I didn't even get the chance to tell her we'd found her riding hat, but then again maybe it's a good thing I didn’t."

  "What about the riding hat? Simon Salter used it to carry the pie off the field, did he?" asked Sally.

  "I suppose Annabel Thompson must have dropped it in the fracas when everyone bolted for the exit. Outside the cake tent, it was like a rugby scrum, so it's no surprise, really. I noticed the pie was on a paper plate. It wouldn't have been difficult to get the half of the pie that was left into the hat on a bendy paper plate and then I suppose he must have put something over his arm to cover the hat and no one saw the pie leave."

  "It all seems a bit of an anti-climax now. I don't know, I thought we could get to solve a real life mystery, like they do on TV- and I suppose we have, but it's not quite the ending I envisioned," said Nancy, grimly.

  They walked slowly, deep in thought up the narrow road.

  "What do we do with ourselves now then?" asked Molly.

  "Go and pack I suppose, then I'll try to find someone who can get my car out. If I have to pretend I'm trapped in my car, just so we can get the mountain rescue team out, that's what I'll do. Whatever it takes for us to leave Tarndale, today," said Tara adamantly.

  "That might just work - if you lock one of the twins in the car," said Nancy.

  "That's a thought..."

  “I hope you’re…”

  Molly's reply was interrupted by Nancy's phone ringing.

  "No, this is Nancy Parker. Yes, she's here. Okay. I'll hand you over. It's the police - they want to talk to you," said Nancy, handing Tara the phone.

  "Yes. I didn't... I never... Missed calls? Will yes, I did try to ring her back. A few times, I don't know, I wasn't counting. No, she didn't give me her number. I see. Harassment? I don't think... No. I'll bear that in mind. Well, honestly! A caution? Oh no, there's no need for that! I won't ring her again, No. Right. Fine by me."

  "Now what?" asked Nancy.

  "Why couldn't your phone’s battery have run out too? Then I wouldn't have rung that paranoid girl! She's only gone and reported me to the police. Says I'm harassing her. She's even shown them my missed calls to prove it! She's told them I got
her number off someone else and that she doesn't even know me and I've been making blackmailing threats. You know, she must have gone to the police the moment she put the phone down on me."

  "The sooner we leave this place, the better," said Sally.

  "I agree. Let's just go and pack and check out of the bed-and-breakfast. I get the impression Dana Felchar really doesn't want us around anymore. I don't think we've been her favourite guests to be honest. The fish and chip incident last night and your giggling fits were the last straw I think," said Tara.

  Tara was about to hand Nancy her mobile back as they were crossing the road, but a squealing of tyres stopped her. A black transit van was heading straight for them at speed.

  "Look out!" shouted Tara, pushing one of the twins out of the van's path. It seemed to bear down on them, straight for Tara. She leapt to the side, falling heavily on the pavement just in time. They watched it screech off up the road without slowing down. A piece of floral material flapped like a flag, trapped in its back doors. Tara tried to recall where she'd seen that fabric before, with its distinct floral pattern. It was at Susan Smythe's flat.

  "That was that seedy Josh Matthews driving like a maniac! He's got it in for you Tara! What on earth did you say to him the other night? He just tried to run you over!" said Nancy, trying to help the winded Tara up off the floor.