“After New Year, in London.” Jonathon smiled. “It’s been hidden under my briefs ever since.”
Mike stared at him in wonder before placing his hands on either side of Jonathon’s sweet face and kissing him tenderly. A chorus of awws rippled around them.
“Where’s the champagne?” Paul joked.
Mike broke the kiss. “You know what? You’re right. If ever a situation called for champagne, it’s this one.” He released Jonathon and dashed behind the bar. “Who wants to join us in a glass of champagne?”
Jonathon burst out laughing. “You expect any of this crowd to say no to that?”
Mike chuckled as he pulled bottles from the fridge. “Yeah, that was dumb. Help me set up the glasses?”
Jonathon joined him behind the bar and started placing champagne flutes in rows, while the villagers gathered, the air full of laughter and chatter.
Mike gave Jonathon an inquiring glance. “So… wanna tell me what brought this on?”
Jonathon laughed. “That call? Was from my father. You can blame all this on him.”
Mike gaped at him. “I don’t believe for a second it was his idea. Remind me to thank him next time I see him.” He popped the first cork, and everyone cheered. Mike poured, and Jonathon handed out the glasses, until there were four or five empty bottles in the recycling box below the bar and everyone who wanted a glass had one.
Mike raised his glass. “To us.”
Jonathon clinked with him. “To us.” The sound echoed around the pub, and the villagers fell silent as they drank. Then the noise level hiked back up as people resumed their seats, taking their champagne with them.
“You’ve had the ring since January?” Mike was dumbfounded.
Jonathon nodded slowly. “I was waiting for the right moment, until I realized this evening that I didn’t want to wait any longer.”
Mike took a sip of champagne. “So… any idea when you want to do this?”
“As soon as possible?” Jonathon sighed. “Like I said, I don’t want to wait. What would be perfect would be the church, with Lloyd performing the ceremony, but I know that’s not going to happen. In which case, Plan B is at the manor, in the Italian garden.” His smile reached his eyes. “I was thinking about the two of us standing between those two statues. You know, the ones I always used to think were trying to grab each other. The sound of the fountain, the open air… with any of the villagers who want to join us to celebrate.”
Mike couldn’t think of a more perfect setting. He wanted to ask about Jonathon’s parents, but that would put a dampener on the mood, so he pushed that aside.
“Okay, what have I missed?” Graham strolled into the pub, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, a denim jacket slung over his shoulder. Beside him was Professor Harcourt, dressed more formally in a jacket and tie over dark pants.
“There’s gonna be wedding bells,” Paul announced, pointing toward Mike and Jonathon. “They’re finally getting hitched. About bloody time.”
Mike poured out the last of the champagne and handed it to the two men. “And what you missed was the lord of the manor getting down on one knee.”
“Damn. I’d have paid good money to see that.” Graham glanced around the pub. “Did none of you video it?”
Judging by the loud exclamations that erupted, it seemed no one had been on the ball. Secretly, Mike was glad of that. He didn’t think Thomas finding a video of his son’s proposal online would go down too well. As much as he’d hated the man’s meddling, Mike felt it was better that he heard the news from Jonathon’s lips.
I think we ought to try to stay on his good side—if he has one. After all, he’s going to be my father-in-law. That thought brought with it a small measure of apprehension. He couldn’t see Jonathon’s parents welcoming him with open arms.
“Congratulations.” Professor Harcourt raised his glass. “May you both have many happy years together. Speaking as someone who has been happily married for the last twenty-seven years, I can highly recommend it.”
Graham raised his glass too, but no sooner had he drunk from it than his face fell.
An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Mike’s belly. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m pleased for you both, honest I am….”
“There’s a ‘but’ coming,” Jonathon remarked, putting down his glass on the bar.
Graham sighed. “I hate to be the one to spoil the occasion but… I just heard back from the coroner.” Then he gave Professor Harcourt a quick glance. “Unless you’ve already shared the details with them?”
Professor Harcourt shook his head briskly. “It wasn’t my place to do so.”
Graham gave a satisfied nod. “Okay.” He sat on the nearest empty stool and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “This can’t go any further than you two, all right? I’m only telling you because you’ve already guessed the outcome, more or less.”
“Then it was murder?” Mike’s pulse quickened. “What did you find?”
Graham indicated Professor Harcourt, who also leaned in close. “There was evidence of peanut oil in the digestive tract,” the professor said in a low voice. “And the only reason we found it was because we specifically went looking for it, based on our speculations.” He met Mike’s gaze. “Definitely not the peanuts on the bar. And it had to have been in the coffee. Pity we don’t have the cup to analyze its contents.”
Mike cleared his throat. “Actually? We do.”
Professor Harcourt blinked. “We do?”
“I asked them to retrieve it from the rubbish,” Graham said with a smug smile.
Professor Harcourt beamed. “That’s marvelous, especially as the cup Teresa sent flying was hers. In which case, we need to send the pieces off for analysis.”
“I’ll see to that first thing Monday,” Graham assured him. “Which leaves us with one conclusion. Someone in the pub Friday night killed Teresa. And it had to be premeditated, because who just happens to have peanut oil on them?”
“I’m afraid I must concur,” Professor Harcourt added. “If you add to that the missing notebook, EpiPens, and phone, it all points to murder.”
“And that means I’m not allowed to investigate it,” Graham pointed out gloomily. “Even if I now have one accidental death and two murders under my belt, them upstairs still feel that a humble constable can’t cut the mustard.”
“What does that mean?” Professor Harcourt inquired.
“It means the powers that be are sending a detective inspector from London to be in charge of the case.” Graham took another long drink from his glass.
“As long as it’s not Gorland,” Mike joked. When Graham’s miserable expression didn’t alter, he froze. “Oh my God. It is, isn’t it?”
Graham raised his glass. “Guess who’s coming to dinner.”
Beside him, Jonathon groaned. “I hoped we’d seen the last of him.”
Mike’s heart sank. “When does he get here?”
“My guess is Monday,” Graham replied. “And you know how he feels about you two ‘meddling,’ as he puts it. So you’d better leave this one to the professionals.” Mike caught sight of Jonathon’s fixed stare and added his own. Graham sighed. “Yeah, it was worth a try, but I didn’t expect any other reaction, to be honest. Please… try to be inconspicuous? And don’t launch into it right away. Have a night off. You just got engaged, for God’s sake. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your evening than sleuthing.” He grinned.