“The facts,” Ellie stated. “That’s what we need to start focusing on before the fresh rumours. We can’t dismiss anyone who was in that house. Anne, James, and Charles.”
“Does Anne have a motive?”
“Well, Anne did mention she has a degree and unfulfilled aspirations of being a writer. She volunteered a lot of information during our first conversation—she’s quite the chatterbox. But you saw how James went straight for her dream of becoming a published writer when he wanted to hurt her.”
“From the perspective of someone who used to teach,” Maggie said in quiet agreement, “I have always got the impression that Anne is insecure about her intelligence. She comes into the shop a lot and talks about books that I get the feeling she hasn’t read. It’s like she’s parroting review headlines, and if it’s a book I’ve read, I gave up on having any nuanced discussion with her years ago.”
“She admitted the trick to me,” Ellie said, recalling their conversation while changing the bedding at her mother’s. “She managed to get Edmund’s ear talking about some book that came out five years ago. A sci-fi book.” She paused, trying to remember the name. “I think it had ‘stars’ in the title. I should have written it down. It’s not important.”
“What’s important is Anne doesn’t seem to mind letting lies roll off her tongue,” Maggie mused.
“She seemed quite proud of herself. I suppose it worked. It got her a job.”
“But why would she want Edmund’s book?”
“To keep it to herself? Maybe to remember Edmund. They were close.”
“Or to claim she wrote it,” Maggie suggested. “You heard what James said about Anne’s rejection letters and there being enough to make wallpaper. What if, knowing Edmund thought the book was his best, she wanted to take credit for the story herself?” She let the theory sit but didn’t look convinced. “I think we’re getting away from ourselves. What we do know is that James just showed us he has a clear motive and the same twisted streak that his father wrote into Jimmy.”
“And Charles,” Ellie added. “Until you prove otherwise, he’s still my prime suspect. Something isn’t adding up there, and there’s a strange dynamic between the siblings. I think he pushed Emma down the stairs at Emma’s birthday dinner last month.”
Maggie said nothing.
Ellie watched as Penny and Carolyn approached, her mother looking as if she were headed to a red carpet event rather than a small village green. Carolyn’s eyes darted between Ellie and Maggie, her posture stiffening slightly at the sight of her never-was mother-in-law.
“What’s going on?” Carolyn asked, fussing with her hair; it bounced like a fresh blow out. “It’s like a circus out here. Do you think the news is likely to show up?”
Penny, wide-eyed, stared at Blackwood House. “Another murder?”
“Attempted, so far,” Ellie replied. “Someone pushed a sculpture onto Emma.”
Carolyn’s eyebrows shot up. “A sculpture, you say? What kind?”
Before Ellie could answer, Maggie muttered, “A big lump of clay that glows in the dark.” She stood, kissing Ellie’s cheek. “I’m going to talk to Angela to see if she can make heads or tails of it, but given that she was there to arrest Emma, I’m not sure she does.”
As Maggie walked away, Ellie noticed her mother hugging herself tightly, too busy lost in her thoughts to recoil at Maggie’s movements like she usually did.
“It’s chilly,” Carolyn remarked. “We should go inside.”
“But the cameras might be here soon,” Penny urged. “It’ll be good press. You could mention Casualty. You’re filming tomorrow. Perfect cross promotion to impress the bosses, and that could lead to a recurring role.”
“As a corpse?”
“Why stop at one?” Penny said, spreading her hand across an imaginary scene in front of them. “I know you’ve got the range to play any corpse they throw at you.”
“Hmm, you’re right. I should focus on showing them my range tomorrow.” For a moment, Carolyn seemed tempted, but after glancing at Blackwood House, she shook her head. “But I really am cold. You can loiter around the green all evening watching if you wish, but I’m—Oh, Penny! You left the door open! My sweet angel has escaped!” Her voice shrieked in panic. “Duchess! Baby, come to mother and be a good girl!”
Ellie watched as the small dog raced past Carolyn, heading straight for her. Duchess was so excited that Ellie easily scooped her up. The little ball of fur wriggled in her arms, tail wagging against her side.
“Duchess, here,” Carolyn demanded, stamping her foot on the grass. “Here, Duchess!”
“Come on, Duchess,” Penny chimed in, her voice sing-song and coaxing, “Come to Auntie Penny!”
“It’s alright,” Ellie said, adjusting her grip on the wriggling dog. “I’ll come in with you too.”
A flicker of worry crossed Carolyn’s face, her eyes darting between Ellie and Blackwood House. Without another word, she swept around and rushed back, her heels clicking rapidly against the cobbles.
As Duchess III showered Ellie’s cheek with enthusiastic licks, she cast one last glance at Blackwood House. The flashing lights of police cars illuminated the windows, and she wondered if DS Cookson would manage to extract the truth from that family’s web of secrets and lies.
A small voice in the back of Ellie’s mind—a voice that sounded strangely like Granny Maggie—whispered that she couldn’t turn back now. She needed answers. The pieces of Edmund Blackwood’s final puzzle were falling into place, and she had to be close to ironing out the continuity gaps in this unfolding mystery.
But first, there was something else nagging at her. Her mother, famously famous for wanting to be famous, turning down a chance to be on camera? It was so out of character that Ellie could hardly believe it. As she followed Penny towards the cottage, Duchess III still nestled in her arms, Ellie’s curiosity burned at who this woman was and what she’d done with the real Carolyn Swan.
Chapter 23…Riddle Me That
Ellie stood on the doorstep of her mother’s house as DS Angela Cookson tried her best to put the fear of the law into her. Across the village green, a flurry of activity unfolded as police vans arrived and camera crews scrambled to set up their equipment. The air buzzed with tension and curiosity.
Angela’s voice cut through the commotion, sharp and unyielding. “Miss Swan, I’ve told you before to stay out of this investigation. There’s absolutely no reason for you to have been at Blackwood House. It’s not a place you belong.”
Ellie felt a flicker of defiance rising within her. Despite Angela’s warning, she couldn’t help herself. “DS Cookson, was the same invisible ink found on Thomas’ clothes where he was stabbed?”
Angela’s eyes narrowed, her voice rising. “What did I just say?”
Before Ellie could respond, she felt fingers lacing around her shoulder. Auntie Penny appeared behind her, her usually cheerful demeanour replaced by a surprisingly intimidating presence.
“Angela,” Penny stated, her voice uncharacteristically firm. “There’s no need to shout.”
Angela’s jaw tightened. Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Ellie and Penny standing in tense silence on the doorstep before Ellie followed Penny back into the house, glad to have been rescued from Angela’s need to assert herself. Inside, she found her mother in a state of agitation that seemed out of place, even for her.
