Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) (6 page)

“Actually,” Annabelle began, leaning forward and lowering her voice, “there is something I would like to ask you. I had hoped Philippa would be able to help me, but as you can see, she’s not very willing to discuss such things.”

“Of course I’ll help you. Ask away.”

“It’s about the body, actually. You’ve lived in Upton St. Mary for a long time, haven’t you, Barbara?”

Barbara smiled. “Born and raised, Vicar! Though I always prefer telling people I’ve not been alive that long!”

Annabelle chuckled a little.

“Well, have you ever heard any rumors about Miss Montgomery the school teacher? Specifically her sister?”

Barbara’s long, thick eyelashes splayed outward as she gasped her surprise. “You know what, I never thought of that! Yes, you’re right, Vicar. That body could very well be her!”

“Who?” Annabelle said quickly, almost pleading for a name.

“Lucy. Louisa Montgomery’s sister. I haven’t thought about Lucy in years. I still see Louisa around sometimes though, carrying her huge carpet bag, as uptight as anything. She doesn’t seem to have changed in – gosh – twenty years, now? Lives just opposite Katie Flynn’s tea shop – terrible fuss they had a while ago.”

“Yes. But what about Lucy? Why did her sister disapp—”

Annabelle was so eager to blurt out her questions that she almost didn’t notice Philippa’s shuffling footsteps emerge from the bathroom. She stopped herself mid-sentence to smile at the small woman as she came back into the kitchen.

“Am I interrupting?” Philippa said quietly, almost hanging her head with embarrassment.

“Of course not!” Annabelle assured her, standing up from her seat. “I was just on my way out to perform some errands. I’ll leave you two to yourselves.”

“See you, Vicar.”

“It was a pleasure catching up, Barbara. Hopefully I’ll see you around.”

“Likewise,” Barbara said.

Philippa merely nodded, before sitting down and clasping her teacup with both hands in order to stop them from shaking.

Annabelle leaped into her Mini and started the engine. It roared into life eagerly, mirroring her mood that had been kick-started by the information she had just gleaned.

Barbara had not said much, indeed, she had been interrupted before fully embarking on her train of thought, but she had said enough. The teacher’s name was Louisa Montgomery; her sister’s name was Lucy. She lived opposite Katie Flynn’s tea shop, a place that Annabelle knew well.

That was all Annabelle needed.

In all her time in Upton St. Mary, and of all the pieces of gossip she had come across, there was only one solution she knew would work when one wanted the truth and nothing but the truth: Go right to the source.

If there was any connection between that body in the woods and the alleged disappearance of Lucy Montgomery, she would find out from Louisa herself.

Even at this early hour, the village was bustling as it always was on Saturdays with the farmer’s market at its center. Annabelle weaved her Mini through the rough, cobbled streets and turned the corner that led to Katie Flynn’s tea shop.

The tea shop was situated on one of the most well-preserved, delightfully colorful, and sleepy – even by Upton St. Mary’s standards – streets. What Annabelle found, however, as she drove her Mini carefully down its bumpy cobbles, was anything but calm.

“I saw you! That’s not the way you hold a dog! If he wants to sniff the lamppost, you let him sniff the lamppost! Who do you think you are?” bellowed none other than DI Nicholls.

“I… I… I’m Terry Watson,” stammered the frightened man who was cowering in the presence of the tall, imposing figure of the Inspector.

“I don’t care what your name is! I don’t care if you’re the King of Egypt! When your dog wants to sniff something, you jolly well let him!”

Annabelle parked the car beside the two figures and jumped out of it.

“What’s going on?” she said, walking up to the two men.

The Inspector turned to Annabelle and jabbed his finger toward Terry. “This man thinks it’s okay to treat a dog as if it doesn’t have feelings, as if it doesn’t have instincts. He wants the dog to go against its very nature!”

“I do not!” Terry exclaimed, managing to muster enough courage to argue now that Annabelle was there.

“I bloody well saw you!” the Inspector roared. “What kind of man doesn’t allow his dog to sniff a lamppost?! I’ve locked up hardened criminals more reasonable than you! This is animal cruelty! I’ve got half a mind to arrest you right now and stick you in a cell. Then you’ll know what it’s like to have somebody stopping you from doing what
you
want!”

“Stop it!” Annabelle shouted, firmly. “This is ludicrous. Terry loves his dog as well as if he were his own child. Why, Chester is one of the most well-behaved dogs in the county.”

“Thank you, Annabelle.”

“Are you taking his side?” Nicholls growled, his eyes wild.

“No!” Annabelle asserted. “Because there are no sides to take, Inspector. This is obviously a misunderstanding. Though I would expect better than berating a man on the street from an officer of the law!”

Terry shimmied slightly to the side as Annabelle and the Inspector locked gazes. With small steps, he shuffled away, and when he was certain that they hadn’t noticed, he began walking briskly down the street, casting fearful glances behind him.

“Reverend,” the Inspector began, some calm seeping into his voice, though he had a resolute expression on this face, “that was a police matter, one in which you had no business interfering.”

Annabelle pursed her lips in frustration.

“I have every right to defend the respectability of people living in my parish, Inspector. Especially when they are being subjected to the fury of a…. a… grump!”

The Inspector breathed heavily, blood dissipating from his cheeks as he slowly gathered his emotions.

“I have a deep respect for you, Reverend, but you can’t tell me how to do my job.”

Annabelle raised her chin.

“And how, Inspector, did your conversation with Louisa Montgomery go, exactly? You haven’t been to see her already have you? You must have got her out of bed.”

The Inspector’s mouth opened in awe.

“How did you–”

“It’s a fairly obvious connection to make, considering the body must have been in the woods for a many years and her sister disappeared two decades ago. You certainly didn’t come here to partake in the wonderful delicacies available at Flynn’s tea shop or you would be a lot less abrasive. In fact, I would even surmise that your conversation with Louisa proved rather fruitless, considering the temper you just subjected that poor dog-walker to.”

Annabelle watched as the Inspector mouthed the beginning of several words, before giving up entirely and bounding off down the street in a huff.

“This case won’t go anywhere if you insist on being so hot-headed,” Annabelle muttered to herself, as she watched him go.

She returned to her Mini, locked it, and strolled down the street. When she reached Flynn’s tea shop, she examined the small house that was set a little way back from the road, directly opposite. It was rather less elegant than most houses in Upton St. Mary, though no less comfortable. Its well-trimmed hedges, crisply starched curtains, and buffed windows hinted at a houseproud, hard-working owner. Annabelle took another step toward it before catching sight of something in the corner of her eye.

There were cupcakes with strawberry icing, a treat she had not enjoyed for some time. Éclairs with soft cream spilling out of them. A cheesecake set to the side topped with raspberries and blueberries. These visions seemed to permeate and gain control over her mind as they sat on sumptuous display in the window of Katie Flynn’s tea shop. Momentarily forgetting the matter in hand, Annabelle entered a deep, hypnotic state from which she emerged to find herself, remarkably, standing at the tea shop counter speaking to Katie Flynn herself just a few seconds later.

“Hello, Reverend. The usual éclair?”

“Um… I think I’ll try that cupcake, if I may. And a pot of Earl Grey, please.”

“Absolutely. Take a seat, Reverend. I’ll bring it over.”

“Thank you, Katie.”

Of course, Annabelle was still brimming with a sense of purpose and determination, but there was no harm in a little treat, surely?

She had decided to give Louisa a respite from visitors. If the Inspector had just been to see her, Annabelle would almost certainly be unwelcome, especially considering the Inspector’s irritable mood. So she took a seat in the tea shop window that allowed her a full view of Louisa’s home.

The cake and tea were brought over, and Annabelle savored every mouthful of the spongy, sugary, frosted confection. She washed it down with one cup of tea, and was just considering a second, when the door to the teacher’s home opened. Annabelle leaned forward, focusing on the prim figure that diligently locked her front door and walked out to the street.

With her salt-and-pepper hair tied in a chignon at the nape of her neck, and in a tweed skirt and jacket, a crisp white shirt complementing the ensemble, Miss Montgomery certainly appeared the part of a strict, spinster schoolteacher. She looked like she brooked no nonsense with the eight-year-olds she taught, particularly those as rambunctious as Dougie Dewar. Her signature look was completed, sure enough, by the large carpet bag she carried, the handles of which were looped over her forearm – just as Barbara had described.

Though she wore her hair in a severe style and had on only light-make up, her delicately featured face, with her strong cheekbones, supple skin, and mesmerizingly deep-green eyes,hinted at a once-great beauty. Her lovely features were not uplifted by an expression of goodwill or even good-naturedness, however, such was her downcast look. She looked at the ground as she hurried off.

In between bites of strawberry cupcake, Annabelle had been pondering whether she should actually speak to Louisa. The Inspector would no doubt have left a bad impression, and the subject of her sister may be a painful subject for Louisa. Annabelle waggled her head from side to side as she considered the pros and cons.

Still trapped in her indecision, Annabelle threw the last of her cupcake into her mouth, absent-mindedly stepping away from her table, through the door of the tea shop, and into the street.  Soon she was following Louisa, hoping that she would get some sign that it might be possible to approach the teacher and get a reasonable reception.

Guiltily, Annabelle felt a certain glamour and excitement as she followed the woman through the quiet back streets of Upton St. Mary. She imagined herself one of the detectives she often saw in movies or on TV, secretly tracking their target to the source of the grand intrigue, though it was a little difficult to maintain necessary elusive, shadow-like qualities, due to the large black cassock she wore and the constant greetings she received from passers-by.

Annabelle was so engrossed in her private game of “chase” that she almost didn’t notice the direction in which Louisa was heading. After five minutes it became clear that Louisa was not, in fact, shopping for groceries as Annabelle had thought. After ten, it was also apparent that she wasn’t heading anywhere within the village, as she took a rarely-used path that led toward allotments that were situated on the fringes of Upton St. Mary.

Annabelle suddenly found herself sidling along hedgerows and hopping behind trees in order to remain out of sight as her quarry traversed the open fields beyond the path. Her playful “trailing” of the target had taken on a very ominous turn indeed.

Eventually, Louisa turned in toward a section of the allotments, balancing delicately on the grass corridors that crisscrossed between the vegetable plots. Annabelle hopped through some nettles, mouthed her frustration, and crouched behind a tree as she rubbed her stinging hands. In her ludicrous position, she was clearly visible to anybody passing by on the paths, and she prayed that she would not required to explain herself. She peered around the oak tree trunk and watched as Louisa strolled up to a particularly beaten-looking shed and placed her carpet bag down carefully on the ground. Louisa unlocked the multiple padlocks which held the shed door shut, and went inside.

Annabelle watched the door close behind the teacher, and shuffled her feet as she tried to find a comfortable position in the nettles. She looked around and, mercifully, saw no-one. How she would explain what a vicar was doing hiding behind a tree, in the midst of a patch of nettles, in the middle of a field, she had no idea. She kept her fingers crossed that her solitary status wouldn’t change as, judging by the closed shed door, she was going to have to wait.