The Fete of Death Read online

  "Yeah. So it could easily have been a woman, just as easily as it could have been a man, such as Simon Salter."

  "That's a fantastic clue Nancy, I'm glad you got yourself a useful husband."

  "I'll be sure to tell him that. Samantha Inkler's autopsy revealed as you suspected, arsenic. It was the blackcurrant pie."

  "Well, that just confirms what we'd already guessed. Now then, Susan Smythe is the one into poisonous herbs. I think we need to ask her about magnolia bark, don't you?"

  "That sounds like a good plan to me. Ah, I think our two songbirds are ready to go home to roost for the night."

  The twins had stood up, helped by their new admirers, and said their reluctant goodbyes to everyone with lots of hugging and kissing of cheeks. It took a while. Nancy and Tara had already put their coats on to leave.

  "Oh! It was wonderful!" gushed Sally.

  "Just like old times," agreed Molly.

  "I'm glad you had fun girls, but remember, people died in this village today and they were far too young to die. Even if no one liked Samantha Inkler, the killer is still out there and they could easily kill again unless we solve the crime," said Tara, meaningfully.

  "We know. We haven't just been having fun though. We took the opportunity to question people," said Molly.

  Tara's eyebrows raised.

  "Apparently, Mavis Poole's beloved library was also a target on Samantha Inkler's hit list. She wanted to close it, sell it off as a business premises and bring in a mobile library instead. Mavis Poole also stood to lose her lovely view at the back of her home and it’s likely a significant drop in its value too, as well as the job she loves so much. They said she's been a librarian since she left school. She's 56. What other job could she go into now?" asked Sally, proud of their contribution.

  "Good work ladies! We've found out some more too It appears that everything points to Mavis Poole being our main suspect. We'll fill you in back at the bed-and-breakfast, where the walls don’t have ears.

  All four filed out of the pub to a chorus of goodbyes from the pensioners. They were thankful the bed-and-breakfast was only next door as the temperature outside had plummeted and it had started raining again, ice-cold droplets that froze bare skin where they landed. The fluffy slippers were looking quite bedraggled when they reached their warm rooms, despite the short distance. Tara couldn't wait to get into her cosy pyjamas and socks and finally get into bed.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, they all met downstairs in the dining room for breakfast. Nancy as usual, had ordered everything on the menu. Tara had hot buttered toast and two cups of coffee. The twins had a fried breakfast and two cups of tea and they seemed to have somehow grown younger overnight. Their eyes had a sparkle in them and they were far more animated when chatting and giggling to each other.

  "Did you say you were going to pop over to Mavis Poole's today?” asked the bed and breakfast owner, Mrs Dana Felchar, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears.

  "That was the plan," said Tara, slowly.

  "That street’s closed and the bridge is off-limits too, I just heard it on radio."

  "The field, too?"

  "I think that's off-limits too. They said it's not expected to rain today, so they're hoping the levels will start to recede then they can inspect the bridge."

  "I'm worried about my car, it's parked in that field."

  "Oh, what a shame! Never mind, I'm sure you'll be okay once you get your heater on."

  An industrial heater, Tara thought ruefully.

  "What shall we do today then? We can't go and question Mavis Poole or Simon Salter if we can't get down there and we can't leave till they've inspected the bridge either," said Nancy.

  "Go shopping I suppose," sighed Tara. She had been looking forward to setting her wits against her two main suspects. She felt sure that after questioning them, she would know for sure which of the two, the murderer was and then they could go home and forget the whole sorry saga. She had a 'Fiona Tipple' mystery half-read waiting on her bedside table at home. She was itching to finish it. Living the real thing took a lot longer to solve - life got in the way.

  "Hey! What have they done with the horses, if the field's flooded?” Tara asked Dana Felchar.

  "The horses? They'll be okay, I’m sure. They'll be up in the top field, it's on a steep hill. It never floods up there, only at the top end at the bottom of the hill. They put them in the top field in winter because it's not as muddy. The stables are up in the top field too."

  Someone pressed the reception buzzer for too long, too many times.

  "Who on earth could that be?" asked Dana Felchar, pushing her hair behind her ears and scurrying off, pushing her notepad and pencil into her apron pocket.

  Nancy, being the nosy person that she was, followed her to see who the impatient person, who was still pressing the buzzer, was.

  It was Susan Smythe.

  "It's Susan Smythe! She's in reception and she looks like she slept rough last night. Still sounds drunk too," said Nancy, hopping from one foot to the other.

  Tara went to investigate. The twins were too full to move unless strictly necessary.

  "I wanna room!" she slurred, leaning over the counter.

  "I'm full."

  "Full of bu... I know you!" she said, pointing a waving finger at Tara.

  "You don't actually know me, but we met yesterday at the fete," said Tara, not wanting the other guests to think this was the type of person she associated with.

  "Oh. That," she said grimly, remembering.

  "Where did you get to? We sat you in a chair in the cake tent and then you disappeared."

  "I went to face that Simon Salter up. He killed my Adam! I ruined my boots trudging up that field and it was miles away! I slid all the way back down the hill on my ar..."

  "Did you find him?" asked Tara, wanting to cut to the chase.

  "Oh yeah, I found him alright! I told him straight I knew it was him. He went mental! shoved me in the mud! So I went to find the police, but they found me. They arrested me for being drunk and disorderly and I spent the night in a police cell. Wouldn't listen to me. It was the caravan, I said, but they said I couldn't go back to the caravan 'cause it was a crime scene. I had to sober up, they said. Yeesh! I wasn’t even drunk, this is how I am. This is me normal, this is!" she prodded her chest with her thumbs.

  Nancy and Tara looked at each other.

  "You said it was the caravan?" asked Tara, sensing a clue might be hidden somewhere in Susan Smythe's apparent jumble of words.

  "It was the caravan! It was always the caravan! Shouldn't be there, see? It's squatting - on Council land," she sniggered into her hand. It was Adam's house, that caravan, and that hefty bully, Simon Salter, wanted it off! Adam too! He wouldn't go, so he killed him - in the caravan Well, they'll both leave now, won't they? Adam and the caravan!"

  "I should imagine so," said Tara, not quite knowing what to say.

  "And that Council woman? He killed her too! He had to I reckon, because she had an inkling that Adam was living in the caravan when she saw it yesterday. It looks lived in, you see."

  "Why didn't Simon Salter just go to the police or Council about the caravan?" asked Nancy.

  "Her on the Council had it in for Simon Salter, big time. He said she'd evict him without notice if she found out about the caravan 'cause she was looking for any excuse to get rid of him in a hurry."

  The twins popped their heads round the door.

  "Ladies! I remember you two! Are there two of you or am I seeing double? Twins! Yeah that's you! You were nice to me yesterday. Simon Salter wasn't nice to me. He said he saw Adam’s other woman going into the caravan when it was dark!"

  Tara's ears pricked up. "Did he recognise her?"

  "No, it was dark. He don't know who it was, and I don't either. Could be anyone in this village. I tell you, I won't stop looking for her, whoever she is and when I do..."

  "How about a nice cup of tea?" asked Sally, taking Susan S
mythe's arm firmly and steering her into the dining room, hoping she didn’t start talking about poisons again.

  "She's not staying here, I've got paying guests! They'll not pay, if she's a guest!" said the flustered Dana Felchar.

  "We'll just give her a cup of tea, calm her down and send her on her way. It's better than leaving her to rant in the place or outside it."

  "One cup," said Dana, firmly.

  "Phew! That was quite a whirlwind of words," said Nancy.

  "I know. The trick is sifting through them to find useful snippets. At least we've had some questions answered. We now know why her boots got so muddy and where she went to when Samantha Inkler was killed. We also know where she spent the night, and that she believes Simon Salter killed Adam Pinder and Samantha Inkler," said Tara, thinking out loud.

  "Do you think he's the murderer?"

  "I think he could be, but so could Mavis Poole. We need to question him before we can make any assumptions or eliminate him. I'm not relishing it though, not with his temper."

  "You handled him pretty well before."

  “I'd had no coffee before! I'm not as feisty when I've got plenty of caffeine in my system."

  "I wouldn't be too sure about that," smiled Nancy.

  "Where did she go after she'd confronted Simon Salter, but before the police took her off the streets?" mused Tara, tapping her lip with her finger. She went over to the twin’s table to ask her.

  Susan Smythe's reply had been "The beer tent, where else?" She didn't say anything else of equal value to what she'd already said. She just kept asking who the other woman was and would she ever find out. Every woman in the village she felt, could have been the other woman.

  Susan Smythe didn't calm down. The tea if anything, made her more agitated, which only Tara could emphasise with.

  She started shouting louder and louder and refused to answer any more of Tara's questions. All she kept saying was that she would find Adam's other woman and she wouldn't rest until she had. When her shouting reached fever-pitch, unsurprisingly, Dana Felchar had a word in Tara's ear telling her quite firmly that Susan Smythe had to leave right away - or they would all be joining her in the back of a police van.

  Tara and Nancy had bundled the surprisingly strong Susan Smythe out of the building with promises of meeting her later for a drink in the pub next door. Tara had to promise her she’d find out who the other woman was for her, but only if she left her to it, just to get her out of the building before the increasingly impatient Dana Felchar threw them all out. They’d waved her off (at last, after a lot of coaxing and patting of her shoulders by the tutting, sympathetic twins) and they had another cup of coffee (or tea) to give Susan Smythe a chance to get to wherever it was she was going, without them catching up to her. Then, they hit the shops once more to pass the time on yet another long day in Tarndale.

  "Well, we've still got a lot we don't know yet, but she's in no state to get anything sensible out of her right now. We'd best give her time to sober up, then try to find her later, seeing as it looks like we're stranded in Tarndale for another day," said Tara, walking into the shoe shop, determined to buy a different pair of slippers and a pair of shoes to go with that dress.

  Chapter Eight

  After an hour or two of trudging round the same dull shops, Tara Trott felt the all too familiar pangs for caffeine. She couldn't go back to the coffee shop though in case Josh Matthews was there. He thought she was a nutter now, but then she had sounded like one.

  Tarndale had a tea room. It was tucked away, down a cobbled side street. They'd somehow missed it the day before. It looked vintage, as though its decor hadn't changed since the 1940s. The twins went all nostalgic again and burst into song, much to Tara's annoyance. She distracted them by reading the handwritten menu stuck in the window, out loud.

  "A cream tea. How quaint! Oh yes, let's!" said Sally, wringing her hands in glee.

  Nancy was drooling over the selection of homemade cream cakes and fancy cakes and biscuits on display. All Tara cared about was coffee, but even she had to admit the cakes did look nice. They bundled through the door and a bell above the door notified the waitress, wearing a below the knee black dress, white frilly apron and matching hat, that she had customers. She slid a notebook and pencil out of her apron pocket and straightened her lace hat before ushering them to a table for four in the bay window and taking their order.

  They all ordered a cream tea and uttered cries of delight when their orders came to the table on pretty floral cake stands. The sandwiches looked so delicate with their perfectly sliced toppings and ultra-thin sliced white bread with the crusts cut off. The cakes consisted of a lovely selection of scones, oozing with homemade strawberry jam and freshly whipped cream, a colourful selection of macaroons and delicate butterfly cakes too. The twins washed their delightful 'elevenses' down with a pot of freshly brewed tea. Tara and Nancy had coffee, which had at least been freshly ground. They all agreed the tearoom was the best thing so far about Tarndale.

  Mavis Poole, the librarian, walked into the now quite busy tearoom. She didn't see them at first. She strode straight over to the counter instead of waiting for the waitress to go to her.

  "The usual please, Jenna," she said, picking up a parcel of cutlery from the wicker tray lined with red gingham fabric at the counter.

  Mavis Poole, was wearing a sickly lilac coloured trouser suit with a matching silk scarf. Her grey hair was pushed up into a tight bun which made her facial features seem strangely slightly out of alignment.

  Tara squeezed out of her chair, feeling two stones heavier and caught up to Mavis Poole as she made a bee-line for a table for two in the far corner.

  "Mavis? Fancy seeing you in here! This is a lovely place, isn’t it? We've got a fantastic tearoom in Nithercott, but it's got modern decor, it's not got the nostalgia of this place. The twins love it," said Tara, who was always nervous of starting conversations with people she barely knew.

  Mavis's green eyes narrowed.

  "If you managed to find the place, I’m sure you can find your way out again, can't you?" she snapped.

  "I imagine so. I need to ask you a few quick questions about yesterday, if you don't mind?"

  "I do mind."

  "Oh, it's just, your pie was so obviously superior to mine... I wanted a few tips I could take home with me. Seeing as...everyone who saw your pie says it should have won."

  "Yes, it would have won."

  "I don't bake a lot of pies you see. Cupcakes and muffins are my speciality, but the twins insisted they wanted to enter the cake contest so I had to do a pie. How did you manage to get the texture of your pastry just so, like that?" asked Tara, hoping that the phrase 'flattery will get you everywhere' would work its magic on this occasion. Luckily it did. Tara had to order yet another cake and coffee and sit and listen for over an hour to Mavis Poole's inherited pie making wisdom passed down from generation to generation right from great great great Nanna Poole, (who used to own a very successful pie business). Mavis Poole seemed happy to pass on her family secrets, as long as after more or less every sentence, she reaffirmed in some way that Tara Trott's pie was 'wrong', a 'bad bake' had a 'soggy bottom' and she'd 'over cooked the blackberries', which were 'a bad choice anyway', but 'how was a beginner baker like you, meant to know any better? 'etc etc.

  Tara was so bewildered by the sheer amount of baking tips, she almost forgot why she was enduring such torture. But, she thought that an hour in, was probably the right time to sneak up on Mavis with her questioning whilst her guard was down.

  "That Samantha Inkler, she was a very unfeeling and selfish woman by the sounds of things but she loved your pie though."

  "It was the only one she actually enjoyed eating," said Mavis Poole, cutting into her cream cake with a knife. "I didn't put poison in my pie. I'm aware everyone thinks I did, but I can assure you, I didn't," she said placing the knife, now smeared with jam and cream onto the pretty floral saucer.

  "I believe you, Mavis. A
fter all, it would be a very stupid thing to do, to implicate yourself so readily, wouldn't it?"

  Mavis searched Tara's face.

  "It would," she agreed.

  Tara couldn't help but notice the twins and Nancy settling into an array of contortions, to try to eavesdrop on their conversation. So far, they had tried every position they could think of. They'd also moved the table and the chairs an inch at a time closer to Tara's table in the hope that no one would notice. The waitress, Jenna, had noticed though, and she’d pulled the table back where it should have been to the group's dismay. It had taken half an hour's concentrated, combined effort to get it that close. They'd even tried the old 'Oops I just dropped my purse, I'll have to find it' routine, pushing the purse further towards Tara's table. It was going rather well till the other diners had started glaring daggers at them. Even endless trips to the loo hadn't proved fruitful. So, they finally resigned themselves to the fact that they would just have to wait for Tara to tell them what was said. They’d ordered another cake to pass the time and stop the waitress from giving them ‘the look’ which meant they'd outstayed their welcome.

  "Everyone thinks I poisoned her because I made a blackcurrant pie," she said quietly.

  "You did know who the judges would be and that Linda Phelps was allergic to blackcurrants though. It does look suspicious. It looks as though you planned for Samantha Inkler alone, to eat your pie because you knew it was laced with arsenic," said Tara, feeling more confident now in her questioning.

  "I deliberately made a blackcurrant pie, I admit that. Yes, I only wanted Samantha Inkler to eat the pie, that's true too. But - not because I'd put arsenic in it - but because I'd put laxatives in it."

  "Laxatives?" asked Tara, stunned.

  "Yes! I just wanted to make life uncomfortable for her that's all. I didn't want to kill her!"

  "So you're saying you didn't put the arsenic in your pie?"

  "No, I didn't."

  "You've got a strong motive though, with Samantha Inkler planning to sell off the library and get a mobile library to visit the village instead," said Tara, carefully, watching for Mavis's reaction.