Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) (10 page)

AS IT APPEARED to be one of the last days of the year that the sun was going to be generous with its warmth, Annabelle sat with a mug of tea on the bench that overlooked the cemetery behind St. Mary’s church. With a large ringed notebook on her knee, a cup of tea steaming beside her, and a pen she twirled and tapped against her lips, Annabelle intended to conceive the Sunday sermon she would have to perform tomorrow, as well as come up with some ideas for the autumnal events the church had in its calendar.

She gazed out beyond the thick, aged stones that comprised the wall that surrounded part of the churchyard and looked toward the rolling hills that extended far into the turquoise sky. She tried to keep her thoughts focused. Somewhere on the horizon, she noticed a figure rising slowly and purposefully up one of the largest hills, before perching on its crest and unloading what seemed like a square board from a bag. She squinted and peered keenly, hoping to discern what the person was doing, before another form toward the bottom of the hill caught her eye. It looked like it was a four-legged animal, rapidly moving across the fields with a clumsy gait and a confused, lost air about it.

The sound of crunching footsteps behind her pulled her attention away from the surprisingly busy scene on the hillside and she turned to look in their direction.

“I’ve brought you some biscuits, Reverend,” Philippa said, holding out a plate of chocolate shortbread.

“Oh, these will hit the spot!” Annabelle said, glad of the interruption.

Philippa placed the plate beside Annabelle’s tea, nodded formally, and turned back toward the church. From the corner of her eye, Annabelle noticed the church cat, Biscuit, silently making her way around the back of the bench. Annabelle pulled the plate of shortbread closer toward her to thwart the greedy tabby’s thieving intent.

“Philippa! I had hoped you would keep me company. I have something I rather want to ask you.”

Philippa turned around slowly, seeming to look for an excuse, and then reluctantly sat down.

“Reverend, I’d really rather not talk about—”

“Oh, tosh. I didn’t mean that,” Annabelle said, reassuringly.

Philippa seemed to relax and she turned her head inquisitively, inviting Annabelle to speak her mind.

“Do you happen to know any Daniels in the village?”

Philippa tilted her head away for just a moment to think, before turning back to Annabelle and saying, “To be perfectly honest, Reverend, I can think of quite a few.”

Annabelle nodded. “I believe the one I am looking for is in his late-thirties. I’m not even sure he is even still
in
the village, but I know with some certainty that he was here roughly twenty years ago.”

Philippa looked to the ground as she mentally sifted through the ample list of people she knew. Annabelle watched her, patiently waiting for her reply.

“The only person I can think of that fits that description is Daniel Green, the butcher. Daniel Thompson is in his forties, but he only moved here a decade ago. Daniel Smalling has lived here all his life, all sixty years of it. There’s Daniel Bennett, but he’s only seven. No, Daniel Green is the only one I can think of who is in his late thirties and grew up here.”

Annabelle bit into the end of her pen as she considered Philippa’s words.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of Daniel Green’s acquaintance.”

“Oh, but you’ve most certainly had the pleasure of his meat, Reverend. Green’s Butchers are renowned all over Upton St. Mary and beyond. His smoked cuts caused a sensation during last year’s farmers’ fair, don’t you remember?”

“Hmm,” Annabelle said, “I remember hearing something to that effect. Though as someone who’s happier munching her way through a chocolate log than a chicken leg, I can see why I would never have met him.”

“He slaughters the animals himself. It’s the freshest meat you’ll find in Cornwall,” Philippa said, livening up at the chance of indulging in some gossip, however mundane, “and he’s turned it into a very tidy business for himself. He’s not bad looking either, and he’s single!”

“I hope you’re not implying what I think you are,” Annabelle said, with a note of humor.

“Implying?” Philippa said, failing to hide her wry smirk. “I’m just saying he’s one of Upton St. Mary’s most eligible bachelors. He’ll make a woman very happy one day – especially if she likes to eat well.”

“Philippa!” Annabelle said with mock anger, before laughing good-naturedly. She considered whether she should probe Philippa as to the relationship Daniel had had with Lucy Montgomery, but she was afraid it would ignite another bout of paranoid nervousness and decided against it. It was nice to see her friend smile again and she didn’t want to break her good mood. It had been rather a long time.

“Sorry, Reverend. Why do you ask?”

“I must speak with him about something.”

“You can usually find him at his butcher’s shop, he’s often out the back.”

“Right,” Annabelle said, standing up and tucking her notepad and pen into her cassock, “I’ll go find him right away.” Then she noticed the plate Philippa had placed between them on the bench and sat down abruptly once again. “Right after I taste these shortbread biscuits,” she added, biting into one almost before she had finished the sentence.

Philippa certainly wasn’t overstating the point about it being a thriving business, thought Annabelle as she arrived outside Green’s Butchers. Though the afternoon was already turning to evening and the shop itself was about to close, there was still a crowd of Saturday shoppers gathered around the counter. Orders were called out loudly to be heard over the din, and hands holding money were held aloft in order to be seen. Annabelle opened the door and found herself in a crowd five deep away.

Though she was taller than most of the people who were snapping up the meat at a voracious pace, she could see no way in which she could ask after Daniel. She tried pushing her way through the crowd gently and politely but quickly found herself shoved backwards to her rightful spot in the queue.

“Is Daniel Green here?” Annabelle called, finding her voice drowned out in the loud, rapid slamming of cleaver on chopping board. “I said,” she repeated, more loudly, “is Daniel Green here?”

Somehow, one of the assistants who was busily slicing rashers of smoked bacon seemed to hear her.

“Boss!” he called, toward a door at the back. “Boss! Someone here to see you!”

Annabelle turned toward the door and watched a tall, handsome man with a chiseled jawline and crystal-blue eyes emerge. Philippa certainly wasn’t overstating the point about him either.

Daniel looked over the crowd and caught Annabelle’s eye. She waved at him, and he gestured for her to join him at a space beside the counter.

“Hello,” he said, in a pleasant, lilting Cornish burr. “How can I help you?”

“I’m Reverend Annabelle Dixon from St. Mary’s church. I’d like to speak with you about something.”

Annabelle thought she detected an ever-so-slight cloud of apprehension pass across Daniel’s hypnotizingly blue eyes, before dismissing it as the usual mixture of emotion non-church-attendees felt when they first met her. It was a feeling that combined awkwardness at not attending church recently (or ever) with suspicion that she was about to persuade them otherwise in future.

 “Um… Of course,” Daniel said. “What is it about?”

“Actually, I was rather hoping we could talk somewhere quiet. It’s rather important.”

“I see,” Daniel said, nodding cautiously, a cloud of doubt now blatant upon his face. “Well, I would say we could talk at the pub since it’s nearby, but being a vicar I don’t—”

“The pub is fine,” Annabelle smiled. “Shall I wait for you there?”

Daniel looked surprised but nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you there in a few minutes after I’ve finished up here.”

Roughly ten minutes later, Annabelle was sitting at a table near the entrance to the King’s Head, sipping gingerly from a half-pint of cider and trying to pace her nibbling of a packet of peanuts so that they lasted as long as possible. Though the King’s Head was nowhere near as popular as the Dog And Duck, Barbara’s pub, it did very well nonetheless. Especially on Saturdays, when the shoppers who flocked to the nearby market and shops such as Daniel’s found it a calming pit stop.

The atmosphere was pleasant. The pub was half-full with families partaking of a hearty meal, regulars indulging in habitual conversations, the subjects of which seemed to comprise only three in number, and working men enjoying the freedom of their weekend. Annabelle gazed at the door absently, until it finally opened and Daniel’s tall, athletic frame stepped inside.

“Daniel! Yoo-hoo!” Annabelle called.

Daniel turned his head, and once again, Annabelle felt as if the good-looking man were holding something back. He gestured a brief greeting, before getting the bartender’s attention. The barman nodded an acknowledgement as Daniel took a seat opposite Annabelle and settled down.

“I never thought I’d be drinking with a priest in a pub when I got up this morning!” he joked, his laugh slightly guarded.

Annabelle laughed along with him. “I would say the same, but in the life of a church vicar, you learn to expect the unexpected!”

The barman placed Daniel’s drink – a pint of dark ale – on the table in front of him and walked away. Daniel grabbed it in his large, strong palm and gulped almost half of it down in one fell swoop.

“Oh, my,” Annabelle said. “We’ve not even said a toast yet.”

Daniel laughed nervously, before wiping his lips on the back of his hand.

“Sorry,” he stammered.

Annabelle noted the anxious expression of the large man. The working men of Upton St. Mary were a warm, laid-back, talkative bunch, so it was rather alarming to see such a successful tradesman so ill at ease, particularly when in his element. She sipped from her cider slowly, giving her mind time to consider Daniel’s bizarre behavior.

Daniel watched her intently, waiting for her to make the first move, to reveal her hand.

“Business certainly seems to be good,” Annabelle said.

“Yes,” Daniel said, slowly, “it is.”

In the silence that followed, the tension between the two grew ever thicker, until Daniel grabbed his pint glass again and finished off his drink in an impressive display. Almost immediately, he turned to the man behind the bar and raised his empty glass. In accordance with the ritual they had obviously practiced over and over, the bartender again nodded back nonchalantly.

“Sorry, Vicar. What exactly is this about?”

Annabelle spun the bag of peanuts around to offer some to the butcher, who refused, shaking his head.

“I wanted to ask you about your upbringing in Upton St. Mary.”

“My
upbringing?”
Daniel exclaimed in a voice that sounded extremely relieved, while a look of utter surprise swept across his face.

“Specifically, your girlfriends.”

“Ohhhhh!” Daniel smiled, leaning back and nodding. “Lucy? Right?”

“Yes,” Annabelle said, taken aback by Daniel’s newfound ease.

Daniel chuckled, and for the first time, his humor seemed genuine to Annabelle.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“Tell me about you and Lucy.”

“Okay,” Daniel said, receiving his drink from the barman and taking a sip from it that was a lot less ferocious than before. “Let’s see. I don’t really remember where we met. Everybody knew everyone else back in those days. I asked her out at a dance, and she said yes. We met up the next day, at the church, in fact, and just talked for hours. That was that, really. After that day, we did pretty much everything together. Went to the cinema, took bike rides together. She’d come and watch me play football, I’d go and see her performances.”

“Performances? She was an actress?”

Daniel laughed. “She was a little bit of everything! She wanted to be an actress, a dancer, a vet, and a nurse, if you can believe that!”

Annabelle smiled. “How long were you together?”

Daniel screwed his face up in thought. “Under a year, I think. Not long when you say it like that, but when you’re young, it feels like forever.”

Annabelle nodded and popped some more peanuts into her mouth. Daniel followed suit, tilting his head back, opening his mouth and dropping them into it.