The Appleton Case (A Markham Sisters Cozy Mystery Novella Book 1) Read online

  The Appleton Case

  A Markham Sisters Cozy

  Mystery Novella

  Diana Xarissa

  Copyright © 2015 Diana Xarissa

  All Rights Reserved

  For my sister. Sisters are a wonderful blessing!

  Acknowledgements

  This novella, like my other works, is the result of the hard work of many people. Thanks to Denise, my editor, who managed to fix most of my mistakes. I know a few will have snuck in, most likely because I keep making changes after she’s done!

  Thanks to my beta readers, Charlene and Janice, who agreed to try out this first book in my new series without really knowing what they were letting themselves in for.

  And thanks to my readers, those who found this book through Bessie (or something else I’ve already published) and those who are trying me for the very first time. I truly appreciate each and every one of you and would love to hear from you. My contact details are at the end of the book.

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  Letter to Bessie (part one)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Letter to Bessie (part two)

  Glossary of Terms

  Other Notes

  By the same author

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Starting a new book is always both exhilarating and terrifying in pretty much equal measure. Starting a new series takes both of those emotions to a new level. Let me start by thanking you for giving this book a try.

  The Markham sisters made their first appearance in Aunt Bessie Decides, book four in my Isle of Man Cozy Mysteries series. There the sisters were having a lovely holiday on the Isle of Man and met Bessie Cubbon on Laxey beach. That book took place in June 1998, so that has rather determined the start date of this series.

  Janet, the younger sister, has stayed in touch with Bessie, and each book will open and close with parts of her letters to their new friend on the Isle of Man. You don’t need to read the Isle of Man Cozy Mystery Series to enjoy this series. The letters to Bessie provide a short introduction and wrap-up to the story here without giving any details from the Bessie series.

  The Markham sisters’ mysteries take place in a fictional Derbyshire village and they are novella length, so somewhat shorter than the Bessie novels.

  As with the Bessie books, I’ve used English spellings and terms and have provided a glossary and notes in the back of the book for readers outside of the United Kingdom. The longer I live in the US, the greater the chances that Americanisms may slip into the text, and I do apologise for any that have snuck past me.

  This is a work of fiction and all characters are a creation of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance that they may share with any real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As I said, the village in Derbyshire where they live is also fictional. Some of the shops and restaurants may bear a coincidental resemblance to some real-life counterpart, but that is wholly unintentional.

  I’d love to hear from you. My contact details are in the back of the book. I hope you enjoy reading the story at least as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  3 August 1998

  Dearest Bessie,

  It was such a great pleasure getting to know you and your lovely island in June. Joan and I often talk about what a wonderful holiday we had. We are planning another visit, perhaps next spring, and hope to get to spend even more time with you then.

  I especially enjoyed hearing about your involvement in figuring out what happened in the unfortunate death of that young man off the telly, and about your other recent investigations.

  Joan and I actually had a similar experience lately, looking into a mysterious death here in Derbyshire. It all started just after we returned home from our holiday, when Joan, usually the sensible one of the two of us, had a rather startling idea.

  Chapter One

  “Where are we exactly?” Joan asked in a calm voice.

  “We’re right here,” Janet answered, waving the map in the air. “At least I think we are.” Janet held her breath, knowing what was coming.

  “We’re lost, aren’t we?” Joan asked, her tone somewhat less calm.

  “Maybe just the tiniest bit,” Janet admitted, glancing at her sister in the driving seat.

  Joan sighed deeply. “I’ll just find a place to pull over,” she muttered.

  A few moments later a large pub appeared on their left and Joan pulled into the car park. She turned towards her sister in the passenger seat and smiled.

  Janet wasn’t fooled. She knew the smile was fake and that Joan was cross with her. “I did suggest that I drive and you read the map,” she said quietly, handing the map to Joan.

  “Yes, well, it’s rather too late for that, isn’t it?” Joan looked at the map for a moment. “Where are the directions from the estate agent?” she asked eventually.

  Janet handed her the step-by-step directions that she’d taken over the phone from the man. Joan read through them while looking over the map and then shook her head.

  “These directions don’t make sense,” she said angrily. “There isn’t any third turning after you leave the motorway.”

  “That’s what I said,” Janet agreed, happy to have her sister angry at the estate agent rather than her.

  “Didn’t you look at the map when you were talking to the man?” Joan asked sharply.

  Not out of the woods yet, Janet thought. “I just assumed, since he’s getting paid to show us the house, that he’d want to give us proper directions,” Janet replied.

  “Yes, well, one of us shall have to go into the pub and ask for directions from here,” Joan announced. “I suggest you go.”

  Janet opened her mouth to argue and then shrugged. She didn’t mind doing it and she’d probably do a better job than her older sister anyway.

  “I’ll just turn the car around, ready to leave,” Joan told her as Janet opened her door.

  Yes, I suppose we must be ready for a quick getaway, Janet thought to herself, rolling her eyes at her sister when she was sure Joan couldn’t possibly see her.

  The middle-aged man behind the bar in the empty pub was kind enough to trace the correct route on Janet’s map for her and she was thrilled to find that they weren’t all that far away from their destination.

  “Come back for some lunch later,” he suggested. “We’ve cottage pie and chips on special today.”

  Janet nodded. She’d love to come back, but Joan didn’t really enjoy pub food. She preferred to eat what she’d prepared herself. As Joan was an excellent cook and an even better baker, Janet never complained.

  With the new directions, the pair found their destination only a few minutes later.

  “It looks really large,” Janet said doubtfully, looking up at the guesthouse that they’d come to see.

  “Well, we can’t very well run a bed and breakfast from a tiny flat, can we?” Joan asked. She climbed out of the car, leaving Janet shaking her head.

  “I never wanted to run a bed and breakfast,” Janet muttered towards her sister, who was walking rapidly towards the front of the home. “This was your crazy idea, remember?”

  Joan was knocking on the front door when Janet caught up to her. By the time she’d climbed the two steps to join her sister on the small porch, the door was swinging
open.

  “Ah, Ms. Markham? I’m Henry Fitzsimmons. We spoke on the phone.”

  The man who opened the door looked exactly the way Janet expected him to from their short phone conversation. He had to be somewhere in his mid-twenties and he looked uncomfortable in his suit and tie. His dark brown hair needed cutting and his thick glasses magnified his brown eyes. He was at least a few inches shorter than six feet tall, but that still made him half a foot taller than the two women.

  “I’m Joan Markham,” Joan answered as she shook the man’s offered hand. “But you spoke to Janet on the phone.”

  Janet smiled brightly as she took her turn shaking hands with the man. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, politely ignoring the fact that he’d given them the wrong directions.

  “It’s nice to meet you as well,” the man muttered as he took a step back into the house. “Come on in and have a look then,” he suggested.

  Joan followed him inside quickly while Janet took a moment to turn back to see what the view from the porch was like. There was just enough room for a few chairs, and Janet smiled to herself as she looked out across the Derbyshire dales. Maybe this bed and breakfast wasn’t such a bad idea.

  She turned back and stepped into the house, pushing the door shut behind her.

  “I think I’d quite like to simply go around by myself,” Joan announced in the spacious foyer.

  “Yes, well, that is, um, I don’t know, I mean, I suppose you can,” Henry sputtered ineffectually.

  Janet chuckled silently. If Joan wanted to look around by herself, the young man would be smart to simply stay out of her way. Of course, Janet had sixty-plus years of experience with her older sister; she was much better equipped at dealing with her than the young man was.

  “There’s really no point in you following me around and saying things like ‘this is the en-suite.’ If I can’t figure that out for myself, I’ve no business buying a bed and breakfast, surely?” Joan asked.

  “Well, yes, I mean, I suppose so,” the man’s eyes darted between the two women a bit desperately.

  “Why don’t you tell us the basic specifications and then we’ll have a look,” Janet said in her very kindest primary schoolteacher voice.

  “Of course,” Henry said. “Doveby House was built in the late seventeenth century as a sort of manor house for the wealthiest farmer in the area. It sits on the outskirts of Doveby Dale, which is a small village just up the road. Doveby House remained in the original owner’s family for many generations before the family died out and the property was sold. In the last hundred years or so it has had many owners. The last owner, a Mrs. Margaret Appleton, was the one who converted it into a bed and breakfast. She turned the six-bedroom, one-bath home into a four-bedroom, four-bathroom property.”

  “So every bedroom has its own en-suite?” Joan asked.

  “Yes, that’s really necessary these days,” the man replied. “Guests, especially guests from the US, expect it.”

  “Indeed,” Joan nodded. “Is there anything else we should know before we have a look around?”

  “The property has been somewhat neglected in the last year or so and could probably do with a fresh coat of paint and some modernising,” Henry said. “But it was originally done up to a very high standard and you certainly won’t need to replace any bathrooms or the kitchen.”

  “Good to know,” Joan said. “Anything else?”

  “The property is being sold fully furnished, from the beds, tables and chairs to the dishes and glasses in the kitchen cupboards. It also includes a small coach house at the back,” Henry said, speaking quickly. “It’s just being used for storage at the moment, but it could be converted and used as additional guest space.”

  “I don’t imagine we’ll need additional space for guests,” Joan said. “Two bedrooms for letting should be more than enough.”

  “There are three guest bedrooms,” Henry said. “And a large owner’s suite with a bedroom and a private sitting room.”

  “Yes, but Janet will need a room,” Joan pointed out.

  “Oh, you’ll be buying the house together, then?” he asked.

  Janet and Joan both laughed.

  “We’ve lived together pretty much our entire lives,” Joan told him. “I can’t imagine that changing any time soon.”

  Henry smiled. “I couldn’t live with my sister,” he said. “But we never got along, not even as children. Anyway, how about having that look around?”

  Joan headed out of the foyer with Janet on her heels. She glanced back at Henry and saw that he’d sat down on the small bench by the front door and already had his mobile in his hand.

  The foyer opened into a large and comfortably furnished sitting room. Henry was correct that the space could use a coat of paint and some of the furniture was getting a bit shabby, but it still looked comfortable. Perhaps it could simply be reupholstered rather than replaced, Janet thought.

  “I don’t recall telling him that we’re sisters,” Joan remarked.

  “Everyone always says we look so much alike that it’s obvious we’re sisters,” Janet replied.

  Janet could feel Joan looking at her hard. “I don’t see the resemblance,” she said eventually, before heading off through the door at the back of the room.

  Janet shrugged and then wandered over to inspect the two doors in the one wall. A small closet was behind the first door, and Janet wondered what they might keep in it. It was empty, so she had no idea what the previous owner had used it for.

  The second door opened into a small cloakroom and Janet took advantage of the mirror over the sink to finger comb her hair. Then she studied her face, wondering just how much she really did resemble her sister.

  They were both grey-haired, with the same bright blue eyes that they’d inherited from their father. Where Janet was plump and always smiling, Joan was slender and more serious, but they were almost the exact same height. Neither had ever married, although Janet had considered it on more than one occasion. They’d both been schoolteachers in their local village school for their entire working lives, and now they’d both retired.

  Janet pulled her jumper down, smoothing it over her hips. It didn’t seem fair that Joan was the one who cooked and baked while she was the one who gained weight, she thought. At least now she could dress for comfort, rather than in the more formal outfits she’d worn for teaching. Of course, Joan didn’t feel the same way, still dressing in skirts or smart trousers every day as if she were just about to have a classroom visit from the head teacher and the school governors.

  “Janet, where have you wandered off to?” Joan’s voice carried through the rooms.

  “I’m just looking at the cloakroom,” Janet called back, emerging back into the sitting room.

  “Well, come and see what I’ve found,” Joan said.

  The excitement in her sister’s voice surprised Janet and she quickly followed Joan into the next room.

  This room was also spacious and was set up as a television lounge, with a small television sitting on a stand against the back wall. Again, the furniture wasn’t new, but it looked comfortable.

  “What’s so exciting?” Janet asked, looking around, trying to spot what had excited Joan.

  “Not this room, that’s for sure,” Joan told her. “Come see what’s back here.”

  Janet followed her sister through a small door and sighed with delight. “It’s a tiny library,” she said softly.

  It seemed as if every inch of wall space was covered with shelves and every shelf was full of books. Janet stepped forward and pulled a random title from the closest shelf. “Agatha Christie,” she told her sister.

  “There doesn’t seem to be any order to the collection, but there are some very good books here,” Joan told her. “I’ve found several old favourites.”

  Janet knew that that meant the classics. They were just about all that Joan read.

  “But surely they won’t be including the books in the sale of the property,” Janet s
aid with a sigh.

  “Actually, the current owner is willing to include them in the sale price,” Henry told them from the doorway.

  “They’re including all of these books?” Joan asked. “But some of them may be valuable.”

  Henry shrugged. “The current owner is a trust that isn’t interested in taking the time to go through the whole house in case there might be something with a bit of extra value hidden away,” he said. “I guess the books came with the house when Mrs. Appleton bought it anyway, and she left it just the way she found it.”

  “Well, we’d love to have them,” Joan said. “Didn’t Mrs. Appleton have any family to leave things to?”

  The man frowned. “She has a son called Gavin,” he said after an awkward pause. “I gather they didn’t get along well and she decided to leave everything to Doveby Trust instead of him.”

  “Does he live nearby?” Janet asked.

  “Not far away,” Henry admitted. “But he won’t be any bother.”

  That Henry didn’t meet her eyes when he said that had Janet wondering if he was lying to them. She couldn’t help but worry that Gavin Appleton might want all of the lovely books and that he might find some way to claim them.

  “I suppose we should look at the rest of the property,” Joan said after several more minutes spent inspecting the library.

  The sisters left the room reluctantly.

  “There’s a conservatory off the television lounge,” Henry pointed out as Joan opened the door into the glass-walled room.

  It was small, but it had lovely views of the beautifully kept gardens behind the house.

  “Those gardens will take a lot of work,” Janet remarked.

  “Actually, they’re currently being kept by one of the neighbours for a nominal sum,” Henry told her. “I don’t know if you noticed the small semi-detached homes across the street, but they don’t have very much garden space. I’ve been told that one of the residents used to be a professional gardener and he enjoys taking care of the gardens here in his spare time.”