Ellie didn’t want to get between her mother and their former Monarch, so she stepped out of the room, shaking her head in disbelief. Somehow, she’d managed to navigate Carolyn’s emotional storm and leave her in a calmer state. It was a rare occurrence, one that left Ellie feeling both relieved and slightly off-balance. Perhaps seeing and hearing about all the actors whose on-set behavior at the studio made her mother seem like a Chihuahua compared to a Rottweiler.
As she descended the stairs, Ellie caught sight of Sylvia making a beeline towards her, no doubt eager to pull her into another round of village gossip. The thought of more small talk made Ellie’s stomach churn. She quickly ducked behind a potted plant, waiting for Sylvia to pass before slipping towards the front door.
She looked around the party one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Daniel, but he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he’d retreated to his nan’s house next door.
The cool evening air hit Ellie’s face as she stepped outside, a welcome respite from the stuffy atmosphere indoors. The setting sun painted the sky in soft hues of orange and pink, though the green glowed with warm light from every direction.
Ellie paused in her tracks, drawn to a mysterious silhouette standing in front of St. Mary’s church. The figure was motionless, staring up at the bell tower as the sun descended behind it. As though they could sense they were being watched, the figure turned, beckoning for Ellie to follow.
Chapter 9To Sleuth or Not to Sleuth
Relief washed over Ellie when she realised the figure was the furthest thing from a stranger. Staring up at the tower of St. Mary’s, Granny Maggie leaned on her cane, her familiar form a comforting sight amidst the chaos of the day.
“What are you doing here?” Ellie asked, reaching Maggie’s side.
She gestured towards the church with a nod of her head. “Walk with me, dear.”
They made their way up the stone steps, following the path that led through the graveyard to St. Mary’s. The fading light cast the old church, established in the 12th century, in complete shadow, creating an eerie atmosphere that sent a shiver down Ellie’s spine.
Maggie came to a stop on the path, her gaze fixed on the bell tower looming above them. “I’ve just been released,” she said, her voice low. “I told the police everything I knew. Now it’s time I told you.”
Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for her grandmother to continue.
Maggie pointed up at the bell. “I helped Edmund Blackwood with research about the bell foundry. That’s how I first met him. It was about twenty years ago. He came into the shop looking for books on local history, and I pointed him in the right direction. During that research,” Maggie continued, “he found out he was a descendant of the original bell foundry family. But they had long since closed down when he was a child, and Edmund grew up poor alongside many siblings. It was only after decades of hard work that he was able to buy back his ancestral family home.”
They turned, looking across the green past the war memorial to the dark house softly glowing beyond the trees next to the pub. The Old Bell was bustling with activity, people gathered outside under the lights, drinking and eating. Despite the lively scene at the pub, there was a sombre, respectful mood hanging over the village night.
“You know what, Gran? I think we both deserve something after today. How about I treat you to a chippy tea?”
Maggie’s eyes softened, but she shook her head. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid the chippy’s gone. It closed down a few years back.”
“Ah, but the Golden Sun does the best chips now,” Ellie countered, her smile widening. “Taxi Tony told me earlier.” As they began to walk towards the pub, Ellie’s expression grew more serious. “You know, Tony recognised me. He was the one who drove me from the church the day I...” She trailed off, swallowing hard. “The day I called off the wedding to Luke.”
Maggie reached out, patting Ellie’s arm gently. “You can’t escape your past, dear, so you might as well face it here in the present. Luke has been dead for twelve years now.”
Ellie nodded. She took a deep breath, trying to push away the memories that threatened to overwhelm her.
Maggie’s voice broke through her thoughts, firm and resolute. “Here and now, Thomas Blackwood has been dead for twelve hours, and tomorrow, I intend to go to Blackwood House and speak with the remaining Blackwoods.”
Ellie’s eyes widened in surprise, but before she could respond, Maggie continued walking, her cane tapping softly against the pavement.
“Gran, are you sure that’s a good idea? What if they won’t talk to you?”
“Given that I was the recipient of one of the three manuscripts and the only one of the trio now publicly known, I imagine I’m one of the people they’re most eager to speak to.” She turned to Ellie, a challenging smile playing on her lips. “So, Ellie, are you tagging along on your granny’s silly little mission?”
Ellie hesitated, weighing her options. This wasn’t why she had come back to Meadowfield. But then again, she wasn’t entirely sure why she was there. Not really. Or where she was going. And whether she liked it or not, the two of them were knitted into the fabric of this case.
As she pondered, her mind drifted back to the crime scene. The missing pen with no ink nagged at her thoughts, an enigma she couldn’t shake. Despite her reservations, she found herself intrigued by the mystery unfolding around them.
They pushed through the door of the Golden Sun takeaway, the warm aroma of salty fried food enveloping them, the lingering question to investigate still unaswered. To Ellie’s surprise, PC Finn Walsh stood at the counter, still in uniform.
Finn turned at their entrance, a friendly smile lighting up his face. “Evening, Mrs Cookson, Miss Swan. Just waiting for an order to take back to the station. It’s going to be a long night. I hope everyone treated you with respect, Mrs Cookson. We aim to be thorough but considerate.”
Maggie patted his arm. “They were, dear. Though not every officer is as sweet and respectful as you.”
Finn’s cheeks reddened at the compliment. “I just hope we can bring an end to things quickly. DS Cookson is all over this case. She might be intense, but she’s smart. Her mind works a million miles a minute.”
“I don’t doubt Detective Sergeant Cookson will get to the bottom of things,” Maggie replied, her tone neutral about her former daughter-in-law. She paused, then asked, “Has there been any progress?”
Finn glanced around, as if checking for eavesdroppers. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You were right about the height theory, Mrs Cookson. Given Mr Blackwood’s height and the position of entry, they’re estimating he was stabbed by someone at least five inches shorter than him.”
Ellie’s mind raced with this new information. “That should rule some people out, shouldn’t it?”
Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We’d need suspects to rule people out. All this business with the manuscript has us stumped...”
Ellie’s ears perked up at Finn’s words. She watched as he was handed a large paper bag filled to the brim with takeaway containers. The smell of fried food wafted towards her, making her stomach rumble.
“I really should be getting back to the station,” he said, his expression apologetic. “But you were right about the pen, Ellie. There is something strange about it.”
Ellie’s heart quickened. She hadn’t expected her observation to lead anywhere.
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.
Finn glanced around the shop, then leaned in closer. “They’ve found some strange residue on it. They’re sending it off for tests.”
“Strange residue?” Ellie echoed, her mind racing with possibilities. “What kind of residue?”
“That’s all I know, I’m afraid. But listen,” he added, his tone growing serious, “be careful now, both of you. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”
