The Fete of Death Page 7
"I do now. Melanie Grinter was deadly accurate! We can try, can't we? We've nothing to lose."
Nancy shrugged her shoulders and admitted defeat. The twins were still entertaining the elderly patrons and they showed no signs of tiring.
"Tasseography, it's called. Hmm, it says here, you can predict your near future! That's handy...uh oh!"
"What?"
"You have to drink it!"
"So?"
"So I hate tea! Vile stuff it is!"
"You can't do it then."
"I'll make an exception, this once. I'm right handed so I have to lift the cup with my left, think about what I want answers about and drink it, so there's only a tiny amount of tea left at the bottom. Then, I've got to swirl it around three times then turn the cup upside down onto a saucer."
Tara was staring at the cup of tea.
"What’s up now?"
"There’s bits in it."
"That'll be the tea leaves."
"They're floating on the top!"
"Stir it then!"
"There's even more now, all swirling round! It'll choke me if I try to drink that!"
Nancy sighed and started to drink hers, watched by a grimacing Tara.
"Lovely," said Nancy, swirling her cup three times and then putting the empty cup upside down on the saucer.
"You've done it!"
"You make it sound like I've done something impossible - I've only drunk a cup of tea!"
"I can't do it," said Tara dejectedly, prodding at the floating leaves.
"I guess we'll just be reading my leaves then," said Nancy, reaching for her cup. Tara stopped her hand before it touched the cup.
"No! I'll do it!" She took a furtive sip, and gagged. "It's vile! It's...disgusting!" she said, scraping bits of tea leaves off her tongue.
"It's got caffeine in it, I'd have thought you'd have liked it," teased Nancy.
"I don't! I never have liked it. For the sake of the case and because we've only got today and tomorrow in all probability to solve it, I'll drink the damned stuff so we can hopefully see a clue to help us solve the case," said Tara. She pinched her nose with her thumb and finger and downed the tea in one.
Nancy was surprised she'd gone through with it. Tara went an odd pastel shade of green and ran to the ladies as fast as her fluffy slippers would allow. She was gone for quite some time. When she did come back, her face was the colour of raw pastry that had been brushed with milk.
"Are you okay?" asked Nancy, quietly.
"Bit of leaf went down the wrong way," she croaked. "Let's see what the leaves can tell us shall we? They’d better have something to say after all this."
They both picked up their cups at the same time and stared intently into the bottom of their own cups.
“Ah hah! That looks like - a bouquet of flowers! And that means...a romantic interest!" said Tara, her heart beating fast with excitement.
"It just looks like a clump of leaves to me. I think it's all about the interpretation. If you want to see a bouquet of flowers, then you'll see one. Especially if you’ve got your eye on someone you’ve just met."
"Now who's the sceptic?"
"I'm just saying. You've got the hots for that Josh Matthews - who's far too young for you, by the way, so you want to see a symbol that means something will happen between you."
"That's your opinion," said Tara tersely.
"Anything else?"
"Well...," said Tara, tilting the cup in all directions to see if she could see anything else. "Nothing that bodes well. In fact, all these shapes - or at least what I think they are...they're all bad omens."
"Really?"
"Yes. That lump there looks like a gun! It says here that means danger! That piece looks like an iceberg - that means danger too, although I don't need to look that one up, we all know what happened to the 'Titanic'. And that...there, looks very much like a spider's web and it says here it means 'beware of traps'."
"Danger and traps? Do you think it’s referring to the murders and the case you're trying to solve or your romantic interest?" asked Nancy, smiling.
"Knowing my luck, it'll be my romantic interest."
Tara Trott had never married. She’d had a couple of long-term relationships, but they'd fizzled out long before they'd even thought about walking up the aisle. She was 'unlucky' when it came to men. She thinks she must be jinxed. Once she turned 30, only strange men seemed to show any interest in her. She thought they were normal, at first, but they soon turned into stalkers or control freaks. Now it was even harder to find someone genuine because now, she had money. That was one of the reasons why she didn't want anyone in Nithercott knowing she'd had a life changing win on the lottery. It was the only way she could be sure no one wanted to marry her for her bank account, not Tara Trott.
"What about your cup? Anything foreboding in there?"
"Not really. I can only make out a bat."
"A bat? That means you have to be alert and cautious. You know, suddenly, I don't want to see that Josh tonight. He could be a serial killer for all I know! Knowing my luck, he probably is! Let's just go back to the bed-and-breakfast, my stomach's still a bit upset over drinking that tea," said Tara, rubbing her stomach.
"We can't leave now. Look at the twins!,they're having the time of their lives at that piano. They're the centre of attention. I've not got the heart to drag them away just yet. They only have the knitting circle on Tuesdays to look forward to, back home in Nithercott."
"Don't try and make me feel guilty. We shouldn't have told them we were coming."
"They would have missed out on all of this! They'll look back on this, years from now with a smile on their twin faces. Another hour won't kill you."
"It might."
Tara folded her arms. The whole day had gone from one misfortune to another and she was fed up. She'd had no control over the day's events since she'd got up late. Yes, she should have remembered about the wellies, so that was her fault and she should have made sure she had enough bread in too, but everything else had been completely out of her hands. Now, she was stuck in an awful village, in a dingy pub, listening to pensioners singing World War II songs. Who knew how long she'd have to wait for the twins to get through their entire repertoire? Nancy didn't seem fazed. She didn't even seem perplexed that she couldn't get back home to see her husband, Dennis. Whatever life threw at her, Nancy caught it with a smile and carried on, without even breaking her stride. Tara usually missed it, then crawled along, sulking.
Tara idly looked over at the bar. She noticed that Annabel Thompson was working behind the bar.
"Nancy! That Annabel Thompson works here! Let's go and ask her some questions, whilst we're here!"
Nancy stretched, then followed Tara's careful slipper-clad footsteps to the bar. Nancy always wore trainers, so she had obviously chosen a new pair of trainers that afternoon. She couldn't understand why Tara had only chosen a pair of Wellingtons and a pair of slippers for herself, especially when she'd bought such a nice dress in one of the shops. Nancy was always ready for action though and she lived in Lycra. Tara preferred pyjamas. Once she was confident no one (apart from Nancy) was going to be calling round, she climbed into her pyjamas and curled up on the couch in front of her crackling log fire, got into her bed and read a detective novel. Her favourites were the 'Fiona Tipple' mystery series. She believed that she would make a good detective fiction writer one day as she'd read so many of them, but so far, she hadn't attempted to write one. Right now though, she was in the thick of a real-life murder mystery and it was her chance to put all the years she’d spent reading about it, to good use. She only had to gather the clues (literally, in the case of the note), ask the right people the right questions and then she could solve the murders - before the police did and before they left Tarndale sometime tomorrow (all being well).
"Hi, Annabel. How are you feeling now? It's been a shocking day hasn't it?" asked Tara, wanting to start her questioning off gently.
"I'm not
feeling anything except numb, I guess."
"Were you in the cake tent the whole time? I know you had a cake entered?"
"Were you?"
"No. I made several trips to the catering van as it happens. It was just one mishap after another when it came to coffee today - it's been one of those days."
"Is that why you just ordered tea?"
"Erm, no. That was...an experiment. I won't be repeating it in a hurry. I'll be sticking to coffee in future."
"Did you see me on your trips to the catering van?"
"No."
"There you are then. If no one saw me leave the cake tent, I must have stayed inside it the whole time."
"Do you not remember?"
"Of course I remember! But an alibi's no good without witnesses is it? Luckily though, no witnesses witnessing me leave the tent means I do have an alibi. You don't have one for Adam's murder because I saw you leave the tent several times."
Tara blew her cheeks out with air. 'Fiona Tipple', never had these kind of problems when she interviewed suspects. Annabel was right though.
"So, you stayed in the cake tent the whole time? You never left?"
"You tell me," said Annabel Thompson, her ice blue eyes challenging Tara.
"Okay, let's say you were in the cake tent when Adam Pinder was murdered. What were you doing at the time and who were you stood with?"
"Cheryl Trellan. She…well I guess you know by now she was the one who ate your friend's muffins. It was just going to be a joke at first. She only planned on eating one of them. She was just messing around, skitting the judge, Samantha Inkler, and pretending to give comments on the cakes in the competition and stuff. Then, she took a bite of one of the muffins and liked it so much she ate all of it. She didn't think anyone would miss one. Then, she got all giggly and started singing and stuff and said she felt a bit tipsy. I was the one who thought it must have been the muffins because she hadn't had anything to drink, we'd come straight from the stables. My mum had dropped off our cakes for us before she went to work. She gave me a muffin to try but it smelled strange to me so I put it back but Cheryl went and ate another and I went off to talk to other people there and when I got back to Cheryl she’d eaten the lot and said she felt very sick."
"Did Cheryl leave the cake tent?"
"Yes, to be sick, but she'd eaten six muffins! It was no wonder she was sick. Mind you, in the circumstances, I think it was for the best she was sick or she would have needed her stomach pumping!"
"I think you might be right about that," agreed Tara.
"Are they all like that, your lot over in Nithercott? Because I know we might be a bit stand-offish and we might have a high crime rate here in Tarndale, but we don't have any pensioners round here putting drugs into cakes to nobble the judges in a cake contest!"
"It was silly of them, I'm sure they won't do it again. How well did you know Adam Pinder?"
"Everyone knew him.”
"Did you know him well?"
"He was living in the caravan in the same field as my horses, so I saw him every day."
"Did you ever go in his caravan?"
"What is this? Do you fancy yourself as being a detective or something? I've had enough of the police asking me these stupid questions, I don't need you to join in just so you can fill your otherwise dull weekend up with trying to solve the crime instead of doing your usual crossword puzzle!"
“I don’t do crossword puzzles,” sighed Tara. “Do you know who Adam Pinder was having an affair with?"
"If I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"Okay, did you see what happened to Mavis Poole's blackcurrant pie?"
"Samantha Inkler ate it."
"Not all of it. The rest of it's missing. Did you see anyone near the pies when Samantha Inkler was poisoned?"
Annabel Thompson's eyes glazed over.
"I saw Simon Salter. He was looking at the pies, but that was before Samantha Inkler had eaten any. I don't know about after, because everyone started thinking they were poisoned because of Linda Phelp's overactive imagination. Your friend's muffins didn't help things though, did they?. Cheryl was feeling really ill by then, but it looked to everyone else like she'd been poisoned too. You know the rest. I'm holding those two (she pointed at the twins, who were still playing the piano) responsible for killing old Mr Simmons," her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry about that. Sometimes things happen that you have no way of predicting at the time. It was a prank, that's all. They certainly didn't mean for anyone to get sick or die because of it."
"They don't seem too cut up about it."
They both looked over at the twins, who were having great fun.
"The worst part of it is, Mr Simmons would have enjoyed himself with those two tonight. They took that opportunity away from him. They've missed out too though. They'll never get to meet him now. He was like a granddad to me. I wish the fete had never gone ahead. Everything went wrong the moment that Samantha Inkler mentioned having another fete. Why couldn't she just have left things alone? Everyone would still be alive if she had - including her." she said, running into the back room, sobbing.
Just at that moment, with her fluffy slippers in full view, Josh Matthews walked into the pub. Tara had mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was relieved he'd actually turned up but on the other, she wished he hadn't. He was young, now that she saw him with Nancy’s words ringing in her ears. He only looked about 24. Tara was 42. Maybe she’d looked much younger earlier to him because her face had been covered in mud? That was an embarrassing thought. She felt naked now, with no mud to conceal her crow's feet or her fluffy feet for that matter.
Tara hurriedly looked round for Nancy but she was sat in the corner, on her mobile. The twins were far too involved with their singing and piano playing to notice Tara all alone at the bar with someone she was embarrassed over encouraging more than anything. The tea leaves hadn't helped matters - they certainly hadn’t predicted a happy ending.
"What I get you, Tara?" he asked, his fringe as maddeningly floppy as she remembered it, his hazel eyes just as intrusive as she remembered, as they probed her face for signals.
"I'm not feeling too well as it happens."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like me to take you up to your room?"
"No! I mean - no thank you. My friends are almost ready for leaving now. It's been a long day for us and we're all more than ready for our beds," said Tara, stifling a pretend yawn.
"Yes, I can see, you've already got your slippers on," he said, looking down at her feet.
Tara's face turned crimson.
"How about dinner, tomorrow?"
"I can't. I'm going home."
"Lunch?"
"I'm hoping to be home in time for lunch," she mumbled.
"Breakfast?"
"No, I..I'm very flattered that you've asked me, but you’re rather young for me and...well, all the men I meet turn out to be nutters in disguise for some strange reason. Not that I think you're a nutter, but I've had a warning this time you see, so this time I'm going to listen."
"A warning? Someone's warned you about me?" he asked, looking round the pub.
"It was the tea leaves actually."
"The tea leaves? You know, if anyone's a nutter I'd say you were the likeliest candidate in the room, not me."
"You might have a point there, but you see..."
"I'm sorry, I thought you were exactly what I was looking for, but obviously I was wrong!" he spat, storming out of the pub.
"Keep this up, missus, and I'll soon have an empty pub," said the bearded pub landlord, polishing glasses with a stern face.
Tara looked sheepish and tried to walk as naturally as possible in the fluffy heeled slippers on the slippery floor, over to Nancy who had sat back down.
"Oh Nancy! The horror!"
Nancy tutted. "I told you he was too young for you. Even the tea leaves told you to stay away from him but - no! You go head over fluffy heels into showing yourself up!"
"I just saw him storm out! What did you say to him?"
"He wanted me to go for a meal with him but I declined," said Tara, picking fluff off her dress which she suspected had come from her slippers.
"Well let's hope that's the end of that nonsense."
"Who were you on the phone to?" asked Tara, wanting to change the subject.
"Dennis. They've done the autopsies."
"What? Already? I thought they couldn't retrieve the bodies because of the weather?"
"Apparently, Tarndale's got a mountain rescue team, so they sent them in."
"Oh. And?"
"Adam Pinder was strangled."
"Well, they didn't need to perform an autopsy to find that out."
“Ahh, but, you would need an autopsy to find out the contents of his stomach. Alcohol was in there, as was a sausage barm..."
"Really? I thought I was the catering van's only customer. Alcohol, yes, I saw him drinking a can of beer."
"If you'd let me finish? And magnolia bark extract."
"What's that? Some kind of herbal tea?"
"It's used as a muscle relaxant. It contains tubocurarine - that's the bit that works as a muscle relaxant. It can cause respiratory paralysis. It also contains magnocurarine, which acts as a sedative and numbs nerve endings and it also relaxes your muscles especially when taken with alcohol."
"So...he was poisoned too?"
"And then strangled."
"Wow! This throws a spanner in the works then. I wondered how a woman, especially someone Mavis Poole's age, could have managed to overpower Adam Pinder in such a confined space and be able to strangle him without difficulty. There were no signs of a struggle in the caravan. No one heard anything either. If he’d been given muscle relaxants, he wouldn’t have been able to struggle. It also explains why he was on the bed with his cowboy boots off. I thought it odd at the time. Why do that when there's a fete going on all around you and you've had nothing but rows all morning with people? You'd be too wired to doze."