“I think you’ll find they’re just like het weddings,” Jonathon remarked. “Except for the fact that we’ll be naked, and instead of a wedding reception, we’ll be hosting a gay orgy.”
“Seriously?” Abi’s jaw dropped, but then she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Aren’t you two usually up before this? Running late, are we?” Her lips twitched. “And no, I don’t want to hear why. I can probably guess. I’ll be back in a bit.” She left the kitchen.
“Why does everyone around here seem to think we spend all our time having sex?” Jonathon demanded.
Mike snorted. “Er… because we do?” He pointed to Jonathon’s notepad. “I see you’ve progressed from using Post-its. Who’s on the list so far?”
“Phil McCallister, for one. I think he has to be on it. Then I’ve added Melody Richards.” Jonathon leaned back in his chair. “Do you recall what Fiona said, the night Teresa died? Something about her not gaining a lot of friends when she lived here and how things didn’t improve once she’d left. I wonder what Fiona meant.”
“Then we either need to talk to Fiona or else find someone who knew Teresa when she lived here. The prof’s out. Teresa came here after he’d left.” Mike rubbed his beard before breaking into a smile. “Melinda.”
Jonathon nodded eagerly. “I’ll call her and ask if we can come to tea this afternoon.” He’d been meaning to contact her anyway, once he realized he hadn’t spotted her once at the festival. Some friend I am. I didn’t even notice. Then he sighed. He had been rather occupied.
“It’s Sunday,” Mike reminded him. “Won’t she be rather busy?”
“Not in the afternoon. But it does mean we’ll miss the closing of the festival. The last panel ends at five o’clock.”
“Then we’ll have a cup of tea with Melinda and Lloyd at four before nipping up to the hall to see the end of the festival.”
Jonathon liked that idea. Then another thought occurred to him. “We mustn’t forget that book package. We need to trace it. Because either the killer sent it to put Teresa on her guard, or it was sent by someone else wanting to deliver a message.”
“Good thinking. I’ll go to the post office tomorrow morning and see what I can find out. I did take a look at the postmark, though. It was mailed from Winchester.”
Jonathon sighed. “I was hoping it had been posted locally.”
Mike gave him a stern glance. “And if it was from a local, surely they’d want to cover their tracks. They’d hardly be likely to walk into the village post office, would they?” He gestured to Jonathon’s phone, sitting next to his notepad. “Now give Melinda a call.”
Jonathon folded his arms. “I may not have been born here, but I know enough to realize that the vicar’s wife is not going to answer calls at this hour on a Sunday morning. Not when there’s this little thing called Sunday morning service.” He smirked. “I’ll text her. She can read that whenever she gets a moment. Although I suspect reading texts when your husband is in the middle of delivering a sermon might be frowned upon by the congregation.”
Then he reasoned that Melinda wouldn’t care about the frowns of her fellow worshippers. She was a formidable woman.
He glanced at the time. “We’d better get up to the hall. Professor Harcourt’s session starts at eleven, and I don’t want to miss it.” He genuinely liked the elderly gentleman and was looking forward to hearing his tales.
“As long as Fiona hasn’t come prepared to give him a grilling as well.” Mike finished his coffee. “I must admit, she really is the fount of all knowledge when it comes to Teresa.”
Jonathon chuckled. “Be careful. So was Kathy Bates’s character in Misery. And look how that ended up.”
“I think, given the situation, we’re quite safe. It’s not as if she can hobble Teresa, right?”
No, Jonathon thought forlornly. Someone else has already beaten her to it.
“THANK YOU for agreeing to this,” Mike said as he poured the tea. “We didn’t give you a lot of warning.”
Melinda waved dismissively. “If I hadn’t been baking yesterday, I would have told you to come some other time. But as you can see,” she said, gesturing to the table heavily laden with cake and scones, “I was rather busy in the kitchen.” She picked up a knife and sliced into the carrot cake. “And I know exactly what to give Jonathon.”
Mike laughed. “She knows you too well.”
Jonathon took the proffered plate with a smile. “I’m just sorry we can’t stay long.” Seconds later, Jinx the cat was winding in and out of his ankles, purring loudly.
Mike grinned. “Someone is after your cake.”
“And he’s not going to get any,” Melinda declared. “That cat is already too fat for my liking. No wonder he hasn’t caught a mouse in years.” She gave Jonathon a wistful glance. “Was the festival wonderful? I’m sorry to have missed it, but I’d double-booked myself. When I checked my diary, I had meetings all Saturday morning, and then I had the baking to do. I was still kicking myself for missing the dinner. That was down to a migraine, unfortunately.”
“I did wonder why I hadn’t seen you,” Jonathon said quietly.
“I thought the two of you might be here to ask for advice,” Lloyd said, after sipping his tea. “I am correct, aren’t I, in thinking that congratulations are in order?”
“Word gets around fast,” Mike commented. “Yes, we got engaged last night.”
“Wonderful news,” Melinda enthused. “So that’s why you’re here? To discuss the wedding?” Her eyes glittered. “Or is the purpose of this visit of a more morbid nature? A little sleuthing, perhaps?”
“You really do know us far too well,” Jonathon murmured. He removed his notepad from his pocket. “We wondered if you could give us any background information about Teresa Malvain, seeing as she used to live here.”
Melinda nodded eagerly. “She arrived in… 1992, I think it was. Of course, then she was Teresa Thompson. She and her husband lived in a cottage near the village hall.”
“What was she like? Did she get on with her neighbors?” Mike wanted to know.
Melinda gazed at him thoughtfully. “I suspect you already have some idea about that. Well, to be truthful, I—or should I say, we—felt sorry for her husband, Richard.”
“Poor man,” Lloyd muttered. When Mike stared at him in surprise, he sighed. “My sympathies will always be with a man who is continually on the receiving end of his wife’s sharp tongue. And poor Richard was frequently in that position. One wonders how he put up with it for so long.” He gazed adoringly across the table at Melinda. “Some of us were far luckier.”
Mike loved the fact that they’d been married for so many years and were still plainly in love.
“So what happened?” Jonathon asked.
“Richard lasted until 1998, and then he left her. I think it fair to say that most of the villagers were probably cheering him on in secret. Teresa decided to remain in Merrychurch, and she got a job as the doctor’s receptionist.”