“What’s bothering you about that?”
“You remember what he said? Untraceable poison? Well… according to her notes, she wanted to know if a pathologist could tell if someone had blown his own head off, or if someone else had pulled the trigger. Apparently they discussed angles of trajectory, fingerprints on the weapon. Then she shared the outline for her new venture, the true crime series.”
Mike stared at him. “So he knew about it? He didn’t mention it.”
“More importantly, he didn’t tell us the real topic of conversation. But why would he lie?” Jonathon didn’t like to think that the elderly professor who’d helped them with the reading and offered so much advice had lied to them.
“There is one possibility,” Mike suggested. “Teresa hadn’t shared what she was up to with anyone, apart from her PA. Maybe she swore him to secrecy.”
Jonathon wasn’t buying it. “But she’s dead. What harm could it do to share the information now? And something else comes to mind. Maybe her question was related to her new book. Someone appears to commit suicide…. This grieving relative she mentioned in her post—supposing he shot himself? Blew his head off with a shotgun? How difficult would it be to fake that?”
“Maybe the person you should be talking to is Professor Harcourt,” Mike said quietly. “But do me a favor? Ask him tomorrow. You’ve hardly eaten a bite.”
Jonathon picked up his fork. “You’re right. This can wait. Besides, we’ve got more important things to worry about. My father arrives tomorrow, remember?”
“Now that is enough to put someone off their dinner.” Mike’s eyes twinkled. “Eat. Then after dinner, we’re going to put on a DVD and forget about this.”
For a moment Jonathon was confused. “You want to watch a film?”
Mike chuckled. “I want to see what I’m missing out on. The Princess Bride?”
Curled up on the couch together watching one of Jonathon’s favorite films sounded like the perfect way to end the day.
THE FOLLOWING morning, Jonathon awoke with a purpose. He wanted to tie up loose ends, and there was only one person who could help with that. As soon as breakfast was over, he sent Graham a text.
Are we okay to meet this morning?
Graham’s reply was instant. Your timing could be better. He’s on the warpath. But I can meet you in the village. Churchyard, half an hour.
It sounded an odd place to meet, but Jonathon agreed. When he’d finished sending his reply, he slipped his phone into his pocket.
“So what was that all about? Arranging to meet your other man?” Mike grinned.
“Yes,” Jonathon responded promptly. “He’s dressed all in blue, wears a pointy helmet, and carries a big stick.”
“You’re cheating on me with Graham? And I thought you had good taste.”
Jonathon snickered. “Trust me, I have my hands full with you. I couldn’t handle two men at once. I’m just popping out to meet him. I won’t be long.”
“Want me to come along?”
He laughed. “And how would that look if word got back to Gorland? Graham must be thinking along the same lines.” He showed Mike the text.
“The churchyard? Ooh, that sounds kinky.”
Jonathon rolled his eyes. “Make yourself useful. See that my father’s room is ready?”
Mike nodded. “I’ll make sure it’s perfect.” He leaned over and kissed Jonathon on the lips, a slow, lingering kiss that made him yearn to be back in their bed.
Then Jonathon pushed aside such delicious thoughts. He had to meet a man among the graves.
AS SOON as Jonathon entered the cool, leafy churchyard, he saw immediately why Graham had suggested it. Stone urns that had stood on gravestones and by headstones lay broken, their flowery contents trampled upon. Graham was standing by one of the graves, taking notes. He looked up as Jonathon approached.
“Morning. Now who does a thing like this? I’m thinking kids from that estate. Little buggers. Melinda reported it first thing this morning.”
“And you thought you’d kill two birds with one stone.”
Graham laughed. “Kind of. Okay, Watson. What’s on your mind?”
“I was wondering if the police were investigating Phil McCallister, Melody Richards, Meredith Roberts, and Paul Drake for any possible involvement in Teresa’s death.”
Graham’s eyes went wide at the last name. “Our Paul? What motive would he have for killing her?”
Jonathon ran through what they’d discovered, and Graham made notes. When he was done, Graham ran his hand through his hair.
“Let me get this straight. You, Mike, and Professor Harcourt read all of her books, looking for a killer?” He chuckled. “You’d have made a great copper.” He sat on one of the headstones. “Okay. I agree there’s motive where all of them are concerned. The problem is proving it. No one saw a thing. Sure, they saw the coffees on the bar, but as for seeing the killer add the oil? Not a sausage. We interviewed the authors, but they claim to have left the pub not long after Teresa first became ill. And no one saw them leave, the pub was so packed.” He peered at his notes. “Meredith Roberts. Isn’t she the one who complained about you two?” Graham grinned. “Now I get it. You got a little too close for comfort, didn’t ya?”
Jonathon told him how they’d caught her out in a lie.
“So she went running to Gorland. Definitely fishy, I’d say. Yeah, I remember her. Folks around here were real surprised when old Miss Tremont died. We thought she was as fit as a flea. Not that there was anything suspicious about the cause of death. At least, I don’t think there was. But that business with the will….”
“What business?”
“Well, according to the will left with her solicitor, the house and all her possessions were to be sold, and the proceeds were to go to different charities. But then her niece turns up, armed with a new will, a later version, that leaves it all to her. The solicitor checked it over, but it was all signed and legal.” Graham rubbed his jaw. “So your take is Teresa puts all this in a book, and Meredith panics, thinking it’ll make folks look more closely into Miss Tremont’s death? You may have something there. I’ll look into that.”
“And what about Paul?”
Graham looked him in the eye. “You don’t think he’s a murderer any more than I do. But at least with his case, there’s one thing we can do that’ll clear all this up for good.” He grinned. “Cherchez la femme.” He pronounced it fem. “If his wife turns up alive and well, that kicks that theory in the head, doesn’t it? So let’s find her. Because wherever she is, she’s gotta be working so she can live, right?” He tapped the side of his nose. “You leave that with me. Tax records, bank records… if she’s earning, we’ll find her.” Graham straightened. “Now, is that everything?”
There was only one thing left.
“Have you found out any more details about that crime Teresa was going to write about?”
Graham sighed. “I was looking into that when the DI got wind of it. So far, I’ve not pinned it down.”