Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) (12 page)

The Inspector digested Annabelle’s words then shrugged.

“Maybe so, but to check it we’d need a search warrant. And to get a search warrant you need more than a ‘peculiar feeling’.”

Annabelle brushed off the Inspector’s condescension and decided she was far too cold to stay a moment longer. She would much rather go home to a hot cup of tea and a cozy blanket than be outside in the chilly evening air with the crotchety Inspector.

“Well, if I find out anything else I feel is important, I’ll let you know, Inspector.”

“Hmph.”

“Goodbye, Inspector.”

Annabelle watched the Inspector march away, stamping his shoes onto the pavement, his shoulders hunched up defensively.

“Hmph, yourself,” she muttered, “You’re never going to win me over with an attitude like that,

CHAPTER 6

WHEN ANNABELLE ARRIVED back at the church, it was already dark, and the streets had emptied of families, couples, and animated Saturday afternoon shoppers, who had earlier filled the air with chatter. Now the only people who could be seen were the men making their way to the pubs for a few pints, perhaps a game of darts, or a conversation about the day’s football results.

Annabelle was so lost among her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the white car that sat in the spot where she usually parked. Annabelle made out the shape of a man slumped over the wheel. She deftly eased her Mini beside the other vehicle and as the lights of her car flashed across him, the man spun around. Annabelle smoothly finished bringing her own car parallel to the other and locked eyes with the rather embarrassed-looking fellow inside it.

The man fidgeted with his keys before placing them in the ignition and starting his engine. He eased off his handbrake, turned his lights on, and then checked his mirrors, only to find the approaching figure of the Reverend in them.

She rapped on his window with her knuckles and leaned down to get a good look at him. He was a decent-looking chap, with wiry curls of neatly cut, brown-grey hair. With his big, brown eyes set beneath thick eyebrows and full lips, he had the air of a friendly, undemanding neighbor about him. The kind of man who would never be a hero but always remember a birthday.

When he saw the cheerful and inviting (if somewhat fatigued) smile on the Reverend’s face, his embarrassment seemed to disappear. He turned off the engine. Annabelle stepped away from the door, allowing him space to open it. With a deep sigh, he got out of the car.

“Hello!” Annabelle said, with a hint of curiosity in her voice.

“Hello,” the man replied, bowing his head slightly.

“I’m Reverend Annabelle, I take it you’ve come to see me?” Annabelle said, offering her hand.

The man took it and held it limply for a few seconds before pulling away.

“I’m Dr. Robert Brownson. I… Well… I saw the church spire and just… Sorry…”

Annabelle looked back at the church as if to check it was still there. “Yes,” she said. “It is rather noticeable, isn’t it? No matter where you are in Upton St. Mary, you can see it.”

“Yes,” Dr. Brownson said. “I saw it from the hills this morning.”

“That was you?” Annabelle remarked, pointing toward the hills beyond the cemetery. “I think I saw you make your way to the top of the hill.”

Dr. Brownson nodded.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything further, Annabelle said: “Would you like a cup of tea? My cottage is just behind you. I’d appreciate the company.”

Dr. Brownson nodded gratefully and followed the Reverend as she led the way to her warm, cozy kitchen.

“So, Dr. Brownson, have you been waiting long?” Annabelle said, as she readied the cups and tea bags.

“Not really. Perhaps. I’m not too sure.”

Annabelle frowned at her visitor’s confusion. She had had rather an eventful day herself and felt that she had little energy left for yet another mysterious problem. But such is the life of a village priest.

With the teapot full and the cups laid out, Annabelle brought over the plate of shortbread Philippa had left out and took a seat opposite the quiet stranger. The gentle sound of the cat door caught Annabelle’s attention before she could speak, and she noticed Biscuit entering the kitchen, her eyes focused on the table.

“Honestly,” Annabelle said, “I believe that cat has the ability to detect a sugary treat from the other side of the village.”

Dr. Brownson smiled awkwardly as the cat leaped onto his lap and settled herself into a comfortable position.

“May I ask what brings you to this corner of the kingdom, Dr. Brownson?”

“Please, call me Robert,” he said, as he tentatively leaned forward over the cat, careful not to disturb her, and measured out half a teaspoon of sugar before dropping it into his cup with great care. “I am a forensic anthropologist. I was called here on business.”

Annabelle felt her tiredness evaporate. “The body in the woods?” she blurted out eagerly, before remembering that she had promised the Inspector she would keep it a secret.

“Why yes,” Robert said, surprised.

“That’s strange,” Annabelle said, pursing her lips. “We already have someone who does that kind of thing around here, Dr. Harper Jones.”

Robert’s expression flickered through a number of emotions before he sighed slowly and abjectly. “Harper is a pathologist.”

“Ah yes, of course she is,” Annabelle said, emphatically pretending she knew the difference.

They sipped their hot teas, each passing the time by taking a shortbread. Robert slowly stroked the cat in his lap, though Biscuit, seeing that no treats were about to be offered, promptly decided she had had quite enough of their company and leaped down to the floor. In silence, they watched her make her way to the living room where she would no doubt enjoy the luxury of choosing the perfect sleeping spot, the better to be refreshed for her nightly excursion around the village that was just a few hours away. After a minute’s silence, Robert’s shoulders slumped, and he resolutely placed his teacup down.

“Actually, Harper is the reason that…”

Annabelle waited for an end to the sentence, but the man across the table seemed incapable of concluding any of his thoughts, either in his head or out loud. Annabelle realized that something was troubling him, and that he would need some assistance in discussing it. She placed her own teacup down and leaned forward sympathetically.

“If there is anything troubling you, Robert, you’re welcome to talk about it with me, whether it’s spiritual or not.”

As if realizing how close he was to spilling out his thoughts, Dr. Brownson immediately sat up rigid as a post, an innocuous smile forcefully stretched across his face.

“Ah! It’s nothing! A silly notion that will be gone by tomorrow morning.”

Annabelle glared at the doctor, unconvinced.

“Hmm. It often takes more than a ‘silly notion’ to draw people to the spire of the church. People tend only to notice it when they look to the sky for help, having found none elsewhere.”

“Really, Reverend…”

“Okay,” Annabelle said, shrugging lightly, “I remain unconvinced, however. And if you’re unable to convince me that it’s not worth talking about, I doubt you’ll convince yourself, Robert.”

Robert glanced only for a moment at Annabelle, but it was enough to see the sincerity and openness in the Reverend’s eyes. He sighed once more and smiled.

“You’re sharp, Reverend. I suppose talking couldn’t hurt.”

“Of course.”

Robert nodded, staring at his teacup as he galvanized himself to say things that he had not told anyone.

“It’s Harper Jones.”

“What about her?” Annabelle said quickly, her tone full of worry.

“Oh, no… Nothing like that,” assured Robert when he saw the fear in Annabelle’s eyes. “It’s just that… she’s married.”

Robert looked up, deep pain written across his face. Annabelle searched it for some clue as to what exactly the problem was and shook her head when she couldn’t find one.

“I’m sorry, Robert. What’s the problem?”

Robert sighed again. “I’ve never been very good at explaining these kinds of things.”

“It’s fine. Just take a deep breath, and start from the beginning.”

Robert did as he was told before speaking again.

“We met just under thirty years ago. I was doing a Ph.D. in biological anthropology at the time. Harper was an undergraduate studying medicine. I remember I had visited the library in search of a specific book, and it wasn’t on the shelves. I looked around, and there she was, angelic, yet magnificent. Her skin was almost luminescent, and the determined, penetrating manner in which she read her book was so striking. She had the very book I intended to read.

“Well, over the coming weeks, in the library, this happened again, and again, and again! Sometimes she would seek a certain book that I had already taken from the shelves and had begun to work from. Other times I would arrive at the library and find her using the very one I had come for. We’d exchange knowing nods and patiently wait for the other to finish. Sometimes we would talk, and each time we did we discovered we shared more than a few interests and ideas. It was no coincidence. It was fate!

“We discovered that we had a mutual love of history. We were both enamored with the idea of unlocking the mysteries of things that had once been alive. Our fields were different, but our passions were almost perfectly attuned. We soon began to help each other in our work, Harper’s rationality and clarity of thought combining with my rather creative and intuitive approach. Two people with different personalities but the same goals. We were perfectly balanced. There was only one thing we could do…”

“What?” Annabelle interjected, wide-eyed.

Robert looked up with sorrow in his brown eyes.

“Fall in love.”

The words hung in the air like the final note of a symphony, resonating in Annabelle’s mind. Dr. Brownson continued, “Of course, Harper caught the attention of most men on campus. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. She still is. But Harper has always been a formidable creature of intellect. For us, our love of history and love of ideas easily transformed into a love for each other. We were inseparable for the few years we were together. A more perfectly matched pair you couldn’t find! We lived in our very own world of study and simple pleasures. We didn’t even argue or disagree as normal couples do. Our only disagreements were academic, and we resolved them using rigorous research and the scientific method. That may sound staid to many, but to two people in love with knowledge, it was the ideal relationship.”

“What happened?” Annabelle asked, eventually.

“To put it simply, Reverend, life happened. I have always been an academic at heart. I still am. I love the musty smell of university libraries. The hallowed halls of institutes dedicated to the sole pursuit of pure knowledge. To surround myself with others who are just as focused upon the furthering of science and wisdom as I am is blissful to me. I am, to put it bluntly, a stuffy professor, and always have been. Harper, on the other hand…”

“Likes to get her hands dirty,” Annabelle added, helpfully.

“Precisely,” nodded Robert, sadly. “She wanted to see the world. To put her knowledge to work in the wild, as it were. She felt that theory was worthless unless one could put it into practice. She was soon gone, regretfully, of course, but gone nonetheless. Her insight and intelligence brought her plenty of attention from other universities around the world and some very inviting prospects, if I say so myself.  Eventually she received an offer that was too good to refuse. We stayed in touch for several years, but she was so busy, and I was somewhat… bitter, I’m ashamed to say. I longed for her to return. Indeed, I always expected that she would, but it never happened.”

Robert took a bite from his biscuit and then a long sip of his tea, as if concluding his story. However, Annabelle found herself feeling that this was not the end of his tale.

“It’s been over twenty years since you last saw her, you say?”

“Yes, twenty-five, in fact.”

“And you’ve not met anyone else in all this time?”

“I know it sounds pathetic, Reverend. Nobody is more aware of that than me. I’m a university professor, however. My kind are not easy with women. There are not many opportunities for me to meet them, and even when I have, it has never worked out. The heart wants what it wants, as they say. After Harper, I found it difficult to compare another woman favorably. No woman could match her, and to delude either myself or them would have been unfair.”

“I take it you’ve spoken to Harper?”

Robert nodded.

“I saw her today. As radiant as ever. I also learned that she was married. It’s funny, but now that I know she’s gone for good, I feel bereaved. Not just because I finally realize that I’ve lost her, but because I also feel that I’ve lost all those years I was waiting for her to return. ”

Annabelle reached out her hand and placed it over the doctor’s. He smiled appreciatively.

“I know it’s stupid of me,” Robert continued, “but I almost feel like I should fight for her. I know it’s wrong, but to just walk away feels like throwing away nearly thirty years. Years in which not a day passed by when I didn’t think about what she might be doing. It has been like walking around with a ghost; one who is there, and yet not there. Always in my peripheral vision, always at the edge of my thoughts.”