A Matter of Wife and Death (A Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery, Book 4) (10 page)

Chapter 19
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Mr. Buttons jumped to his feet and ran out the kitchen door, presumably after Julie. I glanced over at Cressida with bewilderment. With just one look and no words, Cressida was able to convey to me one instruction:
Follow
!

Both of us leaped up and dashed out of the kitchen to the front door. When we got outside, Mr. Buttons was already locked in conversation with the woman, and Greg was nowhere to be seen. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything in there. I was just so upset.”

“I understand that, Julie, but I think you need to explain what it meant,” Mr. Buttons said.

“I need to explain what it meant? What is it?” Julie asked, seemingly confused by the question.

“What you said inside,” Cressida added.

“You told Greg that all of this craziness was happening just because he wanted all of his wife’s money. Those were your exact words, or something to that effect, I think,” I said.

Julie looked at me for a while. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she said softly. She turned away from the three of us and looked off into the distance. We looked at each other, but nobody as much as whispered a word, until Julie continued. “I don’t know if he hurt Lisa, or exactly what he has or hasn’t done, but I do know for a fact that he knows more than he’s telling everyone else. I’ve seen his emails; I’ve seen some of his text messages, and I’ve heard many of his voicemails. I know more about Greg than his wife probably did.” A grim look overtook her features as she let out a loud sigh.

“Then please fill us in,” Cressida said, “because ever since Greg checked in, everything has become one big mess. Once everything is cleared up, this business can open back up and avoid closing down for good.”

Julie appeared to be considering the matter. “Okay,” she continued. “Again, I don’t know that he hurt anyone, but I know that he has a motive to have done so. His parents and Lisa’s parents are in business together. They’ve known each other for years, even before Greg and Lisa were born, as far as I know. They offered Greg and Lisa a huge parcel of land right next to the wilderness that Greg’s currently developing.”

“You’re not saying that they offered their kids a big patch of land to marry each other?” Mr. Buttons said, in obvious disbelief.

Julie shrugged. “I don’t think they saw it that way. They considered it a wedding gift, but the catch was that even after the land was gifted to the couple, Greg and Lisa both had equal say with any development of that land.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means that they both have to agree to it,” Cressida said.

“Exactly,” Julie added. “In order for anything to be done with the land, both of the owners need to sign a document giving consent.”

“I still don’t see how that’s a problem,” I said. “Wouldn’t Lisa just consent to developing the land? She’d benefit from it just as much as Greg would.”

“The thing is,” Julie said, “that parcel of land was wilderness land, too. Lisa did not approve of the development of wilderness land. She was unlike Greg and her parents, as well as his parents. She openly said she would never consent to the development of that parcel of land.”

“I take it the land is worth quite a bit?” Mr. Buttons inquired.

Julie nodded. “Millions and millions, if it’s developed.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “If one of the owners dies, the other gains total control, right?”

“Yes,” Julie said. “If one of them were to die before the other, the land and all of their assets and finances would be inherited by the surviving spouse. Lisa’s death means that Greg now owns all of that land as its single proprietor.”

Cressida, Mr. Buttons, and I looked at each other. Finally! We had uncovered a motive.

“Maybe Dorothy isn’t looking like a prime suspect anymore,” Mr. Buttons admitted sadly. His shoulders drooped.

Julie sighed. “I’m going to head back home. I’ve had more than enough of this place, no offense,” she said.

“I’ll have to call Blake and tell him,” I said, once Julie had left.

“Should we try to stop Greg from leaving until the police show up or something?” Mr. Buttons asked.

Cressida shook her head. “No, just stay out of it, Mr. Buttons. He’s not going anywhere. Where would he go? He’s in the middle of nowhere working on a project. He can’t just up and leave. He’s a well-known businessman. It’s not as if he can make a run for it and then hide out in the bush for years like that other fugitive did a few years back.”

“Oh yes,” Mr. Buttons said. “That was Malcolm Naden, wasn’t it? He hid out in the bush for seven years, right around these parts.”

I shuddered. When driving south, I always stopped for a break at the tiny village of Nowendoc, where Naden had been hiding out prior to his capture. The thought always gave me the creeps.

“It was always about the motive,” Mr. Buttons added. “Without a motive, I just couldn’t let myself believe that a man could be so heartless and ruthless. To murder his own wife for something as trivial as money seems unforgivable in any regard.” Mr. Buttons looked down.

“Unfortunately, a lot of people in this world are greedy,” I said. “It’s all about propelling themselves ahead, without any worry or concern for those they had to step on to get where they are.”

“True, but some people are much different.” Mr. Buttons shot a beaming smile at me. “Look at you and Cressida. I couldn’t imagine not waking up to her complaining about the business, or her telling me the latest thing that Lord Farringdon has said. Oh, and I can’t imagine not having the pleasure of seeing your smile every day. It always makes the day go by just a little quicker for some reason.” Mr. Buttons smiled warmly at me.

I smiled in response. I called Blake to tell him the news, while Mr. Buttons and Cressida walked back inside. The phone call was short, and Blake had only said one thing: “I’m on my way. Don’t go near him under any circumstances.”

I slid the phone back into my jeans pocket and hurried into the house, where I caught up with Cressida and Mr. Buttons in the lobby. “Blake’s on his way,” I said, lowering my voice and pausing before continuing. “Blake said not to go near Greg, no matter what.”

“But then what do we do if he tries to leave?” asked Mr. Buttons.

“Nothing,” whispered Cressida. “You heard Sibyl. We just act normal, and if he appears to be walking out, one of us will have to distract him or something.”

“Distract him?” Mr. Buttons and I said together. “But Blake said not to go near him,” I added, while at the same time, knowing full well that none of us would pay any attention to that.

“Yes, just talk to him or something. Anything that will keep him here until Blake shows up.”

“What are you guys whispering about?” A soft voice broke through the quiet lobby. We broke from our huddle and turned to see Greg coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Greg,” Mr. Buttons said, in an even tone.

Greg was clutching his laptop as well as a small bag, so I figured he was about to make a run for it. I had no idea where he’d go. I somehow couldn’t see him living on witchetty grubs, yams, and cicadas out in the bush. Nevertheless, my first instinct was to delay him. “Hey, what was that all about with your personal assistant?”

The inquiry caught Greg off guard. His eyebrows raised and his eyes grew larger. “Um,” he stuttered. “What do you mean?”

“Julie said that all of this happened because you wanted your wife’s money.”

Greg’s face reddened, and he looked as if he was choking on something. As I waited for a response, I looked at Cressida and Mr. Buttons. They were both standing there with their mouths open, no doubt at me being so bold, or so stupid, as to make such a statement.

Greg finally spoke. “Oh, she’s just upset because she wants a relationship with me, and even with Lisa out of the picture, I’ve made it clear that I’m not interested.”

“Okay, that might be why she was upset,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean what she said while she was upset isn’t valid. What money was she talking about?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to delay Greg.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Greg exclaimed, his face changing from red to a livid shade of purple. “My wife had money, but I have much more money. I didn’t need my wife’s money.”

I was now inches away from someone I was now sure was a cold blooded killer. “You did need to steal. It wasn’t money, not just yet.”

Greg’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” He lunged at me, but Mr. Buttons jumped in between us.

Greg focused his rage on Mr. Buttons. “Get out of my way!”

“So you can do what?”

“I just want to talk to her,” Greg snapped.

The door swung open. “Oh, well, if you’re interested in talking, you’re going to love what you’re in for,” Blake said.

Greg turned around, and at once, his face went a pasty color when he saw Blake and Constable Andrews. “I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s what they all say,” Blake said, as he took Greg by the arm.

“Why the balcony?” Mr. Buttons asked.

Greg looked away, but then he smirked. “Why not the balcony? It was a simple matter to call Lisa out onto the balcony. As soon as she leaned on it, the railing fell. I’d made sure of that.”

“Just tell me one thing,” Mr. Buttons said. “Did you fake the attempted hit and run?”

Greg didn’t offer him the consolation prize of knowing the answer, but he winked at him and smiled once more. He had no time to do anything else, as Blake and Constable Andrews dragged him out the door.

We all followed them out, and Constable Andrews drove off with Greg, while Blake stood next to his own vehicle.

“You got here fast,” I said.

Blake nodded. “Constable Andrews was already nearby, but the minute I knew you were in danger, I jumped in my cruiser and floored it. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

I paused, taking in his words.

“Well, I mean any of you,” Blake added, looking over at Mr. Buttons and Cressida.

“But mainly me, right?” I said.

Blake winked at me.

A car pulling into the driveway interrupted our exchange. A man in a black suit got out and walked over to Cressida. “Are you Ms. Upthorpe?”

 Cressida nodded.

“I’m Edgar Hughes from the Little Tatterford and Shire Council,” he said. “I would like to apologize on behalf of the council. Franklin Greer violated our code of conduct policy by not revealing that his sister was moving her business into town. We’ve reinstated your health certificates and have cleared you and your establishment to reopen as of now.”

 ”How did you find out that Franklin Greer was Cynthia Devonshire’s sister?” Cressida asked him. I could see she was both relieved and angry at the same time.

Edgar looked around briefly before speaking. “Officer Wessley here informed us that Franklin Greer was spearheading an operation to close down his sister’s business rival. Upon investigating the facts, we have confirmed that this was indeed the case. Franklin Greer has been fired from the council, and he might be facing criminal charges for tampering.”

 The man offered his hand to Cressida to shake. “Again, we’re very sorry for the loss of business and any other inconveniences that were incurred due to Mr. Greer’s actions. We will make changes to our policy and procedures to ensure a problem like this will not happen again.”

“Thank you,” Cressida said.

Edgar Hughes drove away, and we all high-fived each other. “So does this mean that the boarding house is back in business?” beamed Mr. Buttons. We all looked at each other and smiled.

 ”We’re open as of right now,” Cressida said. Just then the phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket, and listened for a few moments.

“Are you calling from another number?” she said. “I have your numbers blocked. No, I not wish to take the Little Tatterford and Shire Council to court for loss of income after Franklin Greer wrongfully shut me down. No, I don’t care if you waive your fee in return for fifty percent of the payout. Don’t call me again. Goodbye.” She hung up and looked at us. “That persistent lawyer, Jed Williams,” she said with a sigh.

Chapter 20
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I sat on the dusty front steps of my porch, a mug of English Breakfast tea in my hands. Mr. Buttons sat next to me, his long legs folded up to his chest as his feet sat on the step right below the one on which he sat. He had tea as well, but his was thoroughly more British and milky in color. Cressida sat behind us both, a mug of her own resting on her knee, supported by one hand.

It was evening. The sun was going down, leaving a slight chill to the air, and the three of us all wore jackets. I looked out across the dirt path to the trees growing there, and suddenly I laughed. My two friends looked at me.

“Good heavens, what is it?” Mr. Buttons said. “Did Max say something rude? I didn’t hear anything.”

“Not the cockatoo this time,” I said. “How many times have we done this? A wind-down after a murder mystery.”

Mr. Buttons made a show of ticking them away on his fingers. “Four I think, right?”

“Five,” Cressida said from behind us.

“Who would have thought?” I asked.

“We’re rather good at it, don’t you think?” Mr. Buttons said. “That sergeant fellow does help out every now and then, though.”

Cressida and I laughed. “He’s saved us a few times,” I conceded.

“Though we keep solving his cases for him, so it’s a fair trade,” Cressida added.

“A man killed his own new wife, just for some money,” I said, shaking my head. “They hadn’t been married more than a week.”

“He never loved her at all,” Mr. Buttons said quietly.

“I don’t know,” Cressida said, standing from her chair and moving to the stairs. She stepped down and then squeezed in between us. “I’ve done some horrible things to people I’ve loved, though nothing like that, of course.”

I thought for a moment. I thought of my ex-husband. He had cheated on me, lied to me about it, and then arranged my murder with the help of his mistress. I used to wonder if he had ever loved me. I wasn’t sure of the answer. I never wanted to speak to him again, and even if I did, I didn’t really care about the answer to that question. I had moved on.

And then I thought about myself. There had been times, before the divorce, when I had hurt him, hadn’t there? Sometimes one hurts someone they love on purpose. Yet starting an argument, saying something mean and biting, was worlds away from murder. I couldn’t kill anyone, much less someone with whom I had agreed to spend the rest of my life. Greg had killed Lisa, simply to get even more millions. I shook my head at the thought, saddened by what some people would do for money. I wasn’t a religious person, but at that moment, I thought that the love of money truly is the root of all evil.

Mr. Buttons stood, stretching his legs out before stepping lightly down the rest of the stairs and to the dirt path. “I want to return home before the sun leaves us entirely.”

“Thank goodness we have a home to return to,” Cressida said, standing as well. “I don’t think you realize how close we were to being shut down permanently.”

“I do, my dear,” Mr. Buttons said. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t see your face any longer, and didn’t get to taste our dear Dorothy’s mediocre food day after day.”

Cressida and I laughed, and I rose to hug my friends goodbye. I stood on the dirt path, watching them walk arm and arm back toward the boarding house. When I couldn’t see them any longer, I went inside, gathering the cups that had been left behind, along with my own.

My cockatoo began squawking insults as soon as I opened the door, and, after dropping off the mugs by the sink, I rushed to his night cage and threw the blanket over it so the bird would go to sleep. I went in to rinse out the mugs, leaving them to be washed in the morning. And then I had a long, hot shower.

Afterward, I climbed into bed and grabbed my iPad from my nightstand to read a book I had been trying to get through. It was a mystery, a detective trying to take down a killer. I shut the book and put it down. I just couldn’t get through it. I knew why.

That was my life now. Danger, murder, mystery. Five times now a killer had come to the boarding house, so close to my home.

The murders were horrible, of course; no one would say otherwise. Yet when the mysteries were unfolding, it was all exciting. I had looked forward to getting to the boarding house each day. I had looked forward to comparing notes and tracking down clues. It was dangerous. I knew that. But it was so much more. It was exciting. I had come to Little Tatterford to escape my divorce. I had been sad and alone. Yet I had found so much more. I had come for a quiet life, but I had gained Mr. Buttons, Cressida, and Blake - and mystery. And as I closed my eyes, listening to the soft hoot of a Tawny Frogmouth Owl that had just awakened nearby, I considered myself blessed that I had something more valuable than money.

* * * * The End * * * *

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Next Book in this Series
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A Grave Mistake
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Sibyl Potts has finally been awarded her long-awaited property settlement, and her ex-husband has been sentenced for her attempted murder. Yet just as all seems well in her world, the body of one of Cressida’s boarders is found in her cottage. When all the evidence points to Sibyl as the culprit, how will she solve the crime and prove her innocence?

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Rose Taylor is struggling to keep her furniture store afloat, but her financial problems soon become the least of her worries when her neighbor is murdered, with Rose as the only witness. The problem is, nobody will believe that she saw a nun fleeing the scene. The population of her small Australian country town increases with the arrival of Adam Bowen, an investigative journalist writing a book on an infamous gang of bank robbers, and Bunny, the murder victim’s estranged and colorful wife. Are these things connected, and if so, how? Rose plans to find out – because in her town, she’s having Nun of That.

About Morgana Best
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#1 Best-selling Cozy Mystery author, Morgana Best, lives in a small, historic, former gold mining town in the middle of nowhere in Australia. She is owned by one highly demanding, rescued cat who is half Chinchilla, and two less demanding dogs, a chocolate Labrador and a rescued Dingo.

Morgana is a former college professor who now writes full time. Her subject was grammar. Morgana was a published author of dry academic books under a pen name, but abandoned academia to write cozy mysteries.

In her spare time, Morgana loves to read cozy mysteries, repurpose furniture, and renovate her old house. She tries to be vegan, but has no will power when it comes to ice cream and chocolate.