A Forgotten Murder Read online

  She made herself a mug of tea and sat back down. She hadn’t kept up with the others who’d been in Nicky’s group. After that horrible night, she’d never wanted to see any of them again. But now she was wondering what had become of them.

  She spent the rest of the day researching and reading.

  Two

  “What do you think she’s up to?” Jack asked.

  They were on an overnight flight to London, first class courtesy of Sara. Kate and Jack were in the center, each with a seat that made into a bed, while Sara was across the aisle. Their TVs were turned off.

  “Are you asking if I believe Aunt Sara just wants a vacation and that she’s actually thinking of writing another romance?”

  Jack gave a one-sided smile. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.” He waited for her answer.

  “It’s a mystery.”

  He chuckled at the double entendre: a mystery as to why and possibly a mystery to be solved.

  Kate changed the subject. “Was Gil okay taking over your business?”

  “He was glad to get rid of me. He said I was so emotionally involved with the remodel of the Morris house that I was a pest and...” Jack trailed off, not wanting to repeat his foreman’s language. “He’ll do fine.”

  “You need a vacation.”

  “What about you? Think Kirkwood Realty can live without you?”

  Kate stretched her legs on the long seat. Just months ago she’d sold her boss’s big house, and the commission was enough to allow her to take some time off. She’d been able to send money to her mother and had indulged her love of clothing with a few designer outfits from The Outnet. She did love a bargain! “I think they’ll do very well without me. What do you know about this hotel?”

  “Only that years ago Sara shelled out a lot to restore it.”

  “This must have been before she got together with you or she would have sent you with your tool belt to do the remodel.” Sara had been a silent partner in Jack’s construction company since he was eighteen years old.

  “Okay, so what’s the truth?”

  “I think she’s bored,” Kate said. “For many years she wrote two books a year. That’s a quarter of a million words. Then she retired. She had nothing but free time.”

  “So she traveled a lot. Saw the world.”

  “Yes, then she bought that big house and had you remodel it. That was exciting.”

  “Me or the house?”

  “The house, of course.” Kate was smiling.

  “And we moved in with her.”

  “That was definitely exciting,” Kate said.

  “Especially since we solved a few murders.”

  “For which we got no credit.”

  “You want people knocking on your door asking you to help solve what happened to their great-uncle fifty years ago?”

  “I thought this conversation was about Aunt Sara,” Kate said. “If it’s about me, I’m going to sleep.”

  “Beside me,” Jack murmured.

  “Behave or I’ll switch seats with Aunt Sara.”

  Jack made a sign of hand over heart.

  “Why is she sending us off to faraway Scotland while she stays at Oxley Manor?” Kate asked.

  “To give us time to be alone? Just us in all that heather? Hey! Did you know that my ancestry allows me to wear the full Scottish regalia? How do you think I’d look in a kilt?”

  For a moment, Kate blinked at that image. Jack was a very handsome man. She shook her head a bit to clear it. “Back to my aunt. In the last year—”

  “Of peace,” Jack said.

  “Yes, in a year of peace and quiet, Aunt Sara has kept busy, but...”

  “There’s been nothing to keep her brain fully occupied.”

  “Right. I think maybe she’s going toward something rather than away from it,” Kate said.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I, uh, did a little snooping about this hotel.”

  “No! You? Innocent Kate?”

  She narrowed her eyes, but he just smiled. “In 1994, some friends were having a party at Oxley Manor. Two of them walked out the door and were never seen again.”

  “A male and a female?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds normal to me. They just wanted to get away from everyone they knew. I’ve felt the same way many times.” With a glance at Kate, he said, “Before I met you, of course. What else was there?”

  “That’s all I could find. It was a tiny piece in a local newspaper.”

  “Doesn’t sound very mysterious. What made you think it has anything to do with this trip?”

  “It was important enough that Aunt Sara was using the clipping as a marker in the book she was reading. It was about true crimes. Don’t look at me like that! I was curious about the book and the paper fell out.”

  “You think she’s planning to stay at the hotel to research what happened while you and I go to bonny Scotland? I like that idea.”

  “You’d leave her alone to investigate all by herself?” She sounded shocked.

  “She was researching her novels before I was born. Don’t tell her I said that! She hasn’t discovered that she’s no longer about twenty-six.”

  Kate looked at him. “Aunt Sara might not know her age, but we do.”

  Jack groaned. “Please not a mystery to solve. I want a vacation in the Highlands. I grew up in Florida. I’m curious about cold weather. It gets to sixty-eight and I turn on the heat. Sara bought me a sweater for this trip. It’s made of wool.”

  “I grew up in Chicago and cold is overrated. And no one is keeping you from going anywhere.”

  “You’re going to let me run around the Highlands in a kilt all by myself?”

  “If that’s what you want to do, yes.”

  Jack closed his eyes and said nothing.

  “There’s no law saying you can’t wear a kilt in England,” she said softly.

  Smiling, Jack opened his eyes. “I think we should wait until we get there and see what’s going on.”

  “We have a plan!” Kate pressed the button to flatten her seat for sleeping.

  “Why do I feel like I’ve just been manipulated?” he asked.

  She smiled, but she didn’t let him see her face. The truth was, in the last few months she’d also been a bit bored. Solving a mystery sounded good. Maybe not a murder but just finding out why someone did something. Obviously, the couple who’d run away together must have had serious obstacles in their paths. If they didn’t, they would have announced their love and invited people to the wedding. So why did they feel the need to vanish? And why had no one heard from them since? Or maybe they had. The newspaper article was old.

  But Kate knew that if the mystery of the disappearance had been solved, Aunt Sara wouldn’t be arranging a visit to Oxley Manor.

  Wonder what else she’s done? she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  When they arrived in England, it was early morning. A black sedan picked them up at the airport. The driver had on a black suit, with a cap that you’d expect a chauffeur to wear.

  Jack got in the back with Kate, while Sara sat in the front with the driver. They heard her ask the man about himself. He’d worked at Oxley Manor for years and picking them up was his last job before he left on holiday.

  It took two hours of driving over express highways, then spiraling country roads before the car slowed down at a tall brick wall. A huge iron gate was in front of them. It was a rather plain gate, not flashy at all. To the left was a small brass plaque that read Oxley Manor.

  At the security box, the driver tapped in a code, the gate opened and they drove slowly down a paved road. Around them was an expansive lawn, interspersed with huge old trees. Sheep dotted the lawn—walking lawn mowers.

  After a few minu
tes they came to another gate, this one short and attached to low walls that disappeared on both sides through the trees. A small house stood by the little gate. It was two-story, all brick, with tall, stone-faced windows.

  “Thinking of putting it on the market?” Jack asked Kate.

  “I wouldn’t mind knowing the number of beds and baths.”

  “It’s England. Twelve bedrooms, one bath.”

  “And you said you didn’t watch Downton Abbey.”

  Smiling, he looked out the car window.

  The driver slowed down as they went around a corner and they saw the main house. It was long, spreading out over a hundred feet. It had Gothic overtones, with steeply pitched roofs and parts that jutted out to form giant bay windows that were two stories tall.

  “Is that...?” Kate asked, pointing to the front.

  “It’s a thirteenth-century chapel,” the driver said. “Restored in 1928 by the sixth Lord Renlow.”

  “Then again by Bella,” Sara added, pride in her voice.

  Kate and Jack looked at each other. They knew who’d paid for it: Sara and the millions of books she’d sold.

  The driver took his time going around the perimeter of the house, letting them see all of it. “The house is younger than the chapel,” he said. “But parts of it are sixteenth century. The newest section was built in the 1700s. One family built it and their descendants still live here.”

  As a lover of houses, especially old ones, Kate could feel her heart doing little jumps.

  Jack leaned toward her and whispered, “You ever look at me like that and I’ll die happy.”

  “Looks like you’ll have a long, sad life,” she shot back at him.

  When the car stopped, Sara nearly leaped out, said, “Bella,” then took off running around the side of the house.

  “Sorry about this,” the driver said as he opened Kate’s door, “but I have to drop you off at the back. Front’s being worked on. The kitchen is through that door. I’ll take your cases up.”

  Jack was standing next to Kate. Through the trees they could see other buildings. One was long and low. Stables, maybe? Corners of what appeared to be small houses were barely visible.

  “How many people live here?” she asked the driver.

  “Not many. Mrs. Guilford has a flat in the main house. Mrs. Aiken, the cook, and the head gardener have places. And there’s Puck.” He gave a little smile, sort of a smirk. “She has a house by the cemetery.”

  “Who is she?” Kate asked.

  “Mrs. Aiken’s daughter. She’s...”

  “She’s what?” Kate asked.

  “Different.”

  “What do you mean?” Jack asked.

  “She is...fortyish, I guess. We have a saying around here that you can look at her but not see her. She’s sort of invisible.” He saw that neither Jack nor Kate liked what he was saying. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to gossip. Anyway, the cottages are mostly for guests. They like their privacy.”

  “I would too.” Kate turned full circle. “I’d like to stay in a cottage and walk over every inch of this place. And pet every animal.”

  “Moooo,” Jack said.

  That got a smile out of her. “I don’t see any other people.”

  “That’s because we close for the month of March. Old place like this needs constant repair. Guests don’t like the sound of hammers. I’m afraid they’re going to wake you up.”

  “They are music to Jack,” Kate said. “Add a couple of power saws and he’ll start singing.”

  The driver looked from one to the other for a moment, seeming to be curious about their relationship. Then he opened the black painted door to the house and they went inside.

  The kitchen was divine. It had a huge oak table in the center and lots of open shelves full of copper pots, with dishes below. There was a giant Aga cooker against the middle of the back wall. It was a stove that was always warm, always fighting against the cold and damp.

  “A lot of this is for the viewing pleasure of the guests,” the driver said. “They want England to look like they imagine it.” He moved a wooden slab to one side to expose a modern induction cooktop. “Microwave is behind those doors. Right now Mrs. Aiken has everything that doesn’t look like a movie set covered up. She likes the old things.”

  He opened a big oak door to expose a built-in refrigerator. Inside, there wasn’t a sliver of plastic. Little white pots had red-and-white-checked covers tied on with string. Cotton covered a big slab of cheese. There were several ceramic bowls.

  “I like it,” Kate said. “Where are our rooms?”

  “Mrs. Guilford said you could choose any one you want. Except the Queen Anne. That goes to Mrs. Medlar.”

  They didn’t correct him that Sara had never been married.

  “That sounds lovely,” Kate said. “We—” She broke off because the kitchen door was flung open so hard the glass rattled. A woman, grocery bags in hand, came inside with the force of a storm. “Look what you’ve done to my kitchen.” She glared at the driver.

  “I, uh, I’ll take your bags up.” The driver scurried out the door so fast he made the hanging pans shiver.

  The woman was older, but looked to be strong and healthy. Short, iron gray hair, a cotton dress over a sturdy body. She was glaring at Jack and Kate.

  Kate gave her a big smile. “I take it that you’re Mrs. Aiken, the cook.” She held out her hand to shake.

  The woman ignored it. “I’m to cook for them!” Mrs. Aiken was scowling. “Worthless bunch, all of them. Parasites. Leeches every one.”

  Kate looked at Jack and gestured. Does she mean us?

  “Poor little Nicky,” Mrs. Aiken continued. “I don’t know why he bothered. They were sucking him dry. They ate more than he could afford.” She glared at them. “Do you mean to stand there? Go get the food!”

  Jack and Kate nearly jammed in the doorway as they tried to get out.

  Outside was a white van with the back doors open. Inside were boxes and bags of food.

  As Kate took a bag, she glanced over her shoulder. “Who are the parasites?”

  “I have no idea,” Jack said, “but I bet you a fifty that your dear aunt knows everything.”

  They loaded up with bags of groceries and headed back into the house.

  In the kitchen, Mrs. Aiken was still glowering as she lifted a huge, heavy copper pot from a shelf and put it on the table.

  “Could I help?” Kate asked.

  The older woman looked Kate up and down and obviously found her wanting. “I’ve got a couple of village girls coming to help.” It was a dismissal.

  “That’s good,” Kate said. “Uh, mind if I ask what all this is for? If it’s for the three of us, I can assure you that we can take care of ourselves. Jack is great at grilling and—”

  “I already said it was for them. The ones coming. I swear I never heard of anything so cruel. They want a time just like the other one. How can that be done? Half of them are dead. And who wants to do over that time? That night? Broke my Nicky’s heart, it did. And that playacting fellow. I knew he’d do something like that.” She looked at Jack by the door. “You want something to eat?”

  “No, ma’am, I do not.” He and Kate hurried out of the kitchen.

  “Ma’am,” Mrs. Aiken muttered in disgust. “Sounds like I’m the queen.”

  Three

  Jack hadn’t let it show but he was angered by what the driver had said about the woman called Puck. Nobody deserved to be thought of as “invisible.” He’d known too many people who believed others were insignificant. Humans who were overlooked because they didn’t fit the socially accepted norm of being friendly and gregarious.

  It was the “invisibility” of a young woman he’d loved that had caused people to ignore her disappearance. Finding her and her mother had started them in mystery solving.
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  He’d never tell Kate, but he didn’t like that Sara had arranged this trip under false pretenses. She’d said she wanted to do some historical research. But she didn’t say that the history was barely twenty years old. Or that the people around here were still angry about whatever had happened.

  He always wanted to know what was going on. To him, his job was to protect two women who were much too inquisitive and way too fearless for their own good. Right now, he wanted to know more about poor, persecuted Nicky and the “parasites” who allegedly stole from him.

  Jack didn’t think he was going to find out anything from Mrs. Aiken, but maybe her daughter knew something.

  He turned back to Kate. She was looking at the exterior of the big house, and he wondered if she realized how much like her aunt she was.

  “I’m gonna look around on my own,” Jack said. “You go pick out a room for us and I’ll see you later.”

  As he hurried away, Kate called out, “Rooms, Jack. Plural.”

  He didn’t answer but he smiled. He walked around a tall hedge that hid the surrounding land, then walked down a gravel road, passing buildings that were well-kept. But he could see inside enough to know they were empty. Probably awaiting restoration.

  Down one lane were four small houses, each beautifully kept. His guess was that they’d been built in the twenties when the old chapel had been restored. They were made to look Victorian Gothic but they weren’t that old. His contractor’s eye saw that they were in good repair.

  Past the wall was a woodland. Trees were close, their tops overlapping to form a dense canopy. Ferns covered the ground.

  When he saw sunlight along one side, he went to it. On the gravel lane was a little green utility truck. Jack owned three of them for his business. There were wooden-handled tools in the back that would be ruined if it rained.

  Looking around, he saw no one. The entire huge estate was like it had been abandoned.

  Beside the truck, along the lane, was a thick hedge of wild blackberry vines, heavy with unpicked fruit. When he put the tools inside the cab, he removed an empty stainless steel bucket and half filled it with blackberries.

  There was a pretty pond with a trail around it and tall willows drooping down to the water. Clumps of reeds softened the shoreline. Jack knew from experience that if you sat very still, birds and wildlife showed up.