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

  “I feel as if I should pinch myself,” Janet said. “It doesn’t quite feel real.”

  “No, it really doesn’t,” Joan laughed. “It all happened rather very quickly, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, perhaps too quickly. I’m sure I shall get lost on my way to the loo in the middle of the night tonight.”

  Joan laughed again. “Just don’t tumble down the stairs,” she cautioned.

  “That’s another good thing about my bedroom,” Janet told her. “It’s quite far from the stairs, really.”

  “So what shall we do first?” Joan asked after she’d refilled their cups.

  “You should start baking,” Janet told her. “You haven’t baked any biscuits or treats in weeks. I know we’ve been busy, but I can’t go much longer without some shortbread or at least a flapjack.”

  “I suppose we need to find the nearest grocery store, then,” Joan replied.

  They finished their tea and headed out. When they’d talked with Stuart and Mary several weeks ago, the couple gave the sisters directions to the centre of Doveby Dale where there was a small grocery store. The sisters decided that that would do for today. They’d need to find the larger store eventually, to do their larger weekly shop, but for today they didn’t need much.

  Janet drove as they both tried to remember exactly what Stuart had said. The road was straight and he’d told them to simply follow it. A small single-story building that was completely lacking in any architectural style appeared alongside the road as they drove.

  “Doveby Dale Garage,” Janet read off the sign that was hanging at an awkward angle from a bent post.

  “So that’s where Gavin Appleton works,” Joan said in a thoughtful tone. “Interesting.”

  “I always thought garages sold petrol,” Janet said.

  “All I saw were three garage doors in a row,” Joan told her. “They were all shut, so I guess the garage isn’t open.”

  “It’s the middle of the day, why would it be closed?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have any business,” Joan suggested.

  “Well, he’s not likely to get any if he’s shut up when customers come calling, is he?”

  Just around the next bend was the small main street of Doveby Dale, with shops and cafés dotted along it. At the far end of the street was the grocery store they were looking for. The prices in the store were higher than they would have been at a larger chain store, but the sisters knew they were paying for convenience. The closest big name grocery store was several miles further down the road in a somewhat busier area. They practically had this store to themselves as they filled a shopping trolley with far more than they’d intended to purchase.

  “We shouldn’t shop when we’re hungry,” Joan said as they watched all their shopping adding up at the tills.

  “But we have nothing to eat at the house,” Janet countered. “I suppose we could have stopped and had lunch at a pub somewhere and then come shopping.”

  Joan wrinkled her nose. “I suppose we’ll get through all this food eventually,” she said as they loaded the bags into the car.

  “Of course we will,” Janet agreed. “I intend to get through a good deal of it today, even.”

  As they drove back past Gavin’s garage, the rolling overhead door in the centre of the building began to rise. A very new-looking dark-coloured sedan pulled out of the garage and turned in the opposite direction. The sisters could see a man pulling the door back down behind the car.

  “Gavin was driving that very fancy car,” Joan told her sister.

  “He must be repairing it,” Janet said. “That isn’t what he was driving the last time we saw him.”

  “I certainly can’t see him owning something that luxurious,” Joan agreed.

  Back at home the sisters had a light snack before Joan began to bake. Janet left her sister doing what she loved best, deciding that this was the perfect time to do some exploring around their new home. She needed to do something while she waited for some delicious treat to be ready.

  After pretending to consider looking around the guest rooms, Janet headed straight for the library. The boxes of books that they’d brought with them caught her eye, but she ignored them for the moment. Unpacking was boring, even if it needed to be done.

  She started at the door and worked her way slowly around the room, pulling odd books from the shelf, curious as to what exactly they’d purchased with their new home. All of the books were hardcovers and most were in excellent condition. The more Janet looked around, the less she could understand how the books were arranged, however.

  They were clearly not alphabetical, either by title or author, and they didn’t seem to be arranged by subject matter, either. After an hour of trying to work out a pattern, she decided that, for some strange reason, the books had been shelved entirely at random.

  “Well, that will never do,” she said out loud. One of her favourite jobs as a teacher at their small village school had been running the tiny school library. Now she sat down at the small desk in one corner to think about how she’d like to arrange her new favourite place in the world.

  After a while, she decided she needed to start taking notes. Joan would probably have her own ideas as well, so Janet wanted to be sure she knew exactly what she wanted to do before she talked to her sister. She pulled open the top desk drawer and found a pen amid the pencils, paper clips and other office supplies that were scattered inside.

  The first side drawer held sheets of plain white paper and Janet pulled one out and began to make notes. After several minutes, she frowned. She’d been so distracted by all the glorious books that she hadn’t given any thought to being nosy. But what else was in this desk?

  She pulled open the middle side drawer and laughed. So much for being nosy, she thought as she stared at boxes of envelopes. That left only one more drawer. This is more like it, she thought as she pulled a pile of file folders out of the drawer.

  Margaret Appleton’s solicitor had given them a few boxes of paperwork that related to the running of the bed and breakfast. Those still needed to be gone though, but maybe that meant that this paperwork was more personal. Janet opened the first folder eagerly.

  Inside were several letters from someone called “Jack,” who wrote of his undying love for “his dear Maggie.” Janet blushed and stopped reading the first letter after a particularly racy section. She shut the folder, surprised that no one had removed such personal correspondence from the house before it was sold. Perhaps this was the sort of thing that Gavin was looking for?

  Three more folders were full of similar letters from “Simon,” “Edward,” and finally, “Kenneth.” Janet did no more than skim the first letter in each pile, finding that they were all very intimate. Reading any more would have felt too invasive of the dead woman’s privacy.

  She opened the last folder, expecting more of the same, but instead she found letters that were all signed “Gavin.” She began to read the first one, dated some ten years earlier, with some interest.

  “Mother, I’m fine and I think I’m going to like living in Devon. I don’t suppose you’ll miss me all that much, as you’re rather busy with all of the men in your life. Let me know when the next wedding is going to take place and I’ll send a card. Gavin.”

  Janet sat back in the desk chair and closed her eyes. These letters were far less personal than the others, but Janet still felt that she really shouldn’t read them. They must be the papers that Gavin wanted to collect, she thought. Perhaps she and Janet ought to take them to him.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Joan called from the kitchen.

  Janet dumped all of the files back in the bottom drawer and slid it shut. She was surprised to find that the entire afternoon had flown past. But she’d worry about the letters another time. The smells coming from the kitchen were more important.

  Joan had made cottage pie with a rhubarb crumble for pudding.

  “That was delicious,” Janet said after she’d swallowed her last bite of crumble.
“Not as good as apple, but nearly.”

  Joan laughed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said. “Tomorrow I plan to start making biscuits and cakes and all the lovely things I usually make all the time and have quite neglected in the last few weeks.”

  “Oh, thank heavens,” Janet told her. “All of my trousers are getting rather loose on me. I’d hate to have to go clothes shopping.”

  Janet could tell that her sister wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not, but she just smiled at her.

  “I found some letters from Gavin to his mother in a drawer in the desk in the library,” she said after they’d done the washing up. The kitchen had a dishwasher, but neither sister was ready to try it out just yet. No doubt it would come in handy if they ever had a house full of guests, though.

  “You didn’t read them, did you?” Joan asked.

  “I just skimmed through the first one,” Janet said defensively. “Anyway, it was really short and didn’t really say anything.”

  “I suppose our first job tomorrow should be to take the letters to Mr. Appleton, then,” Joan said.

  “I suppose,” Janet agreed, hating to have to spend the time doing that when they could be doing so many more interesting things.

  With the kitchen tidied, they both found books in the library to curl up with for a few hours and then headed to bed.

  “I hope I can sleep,” Joan said as Janet headed up the stairs. “It’s always difficult in a strange place.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Janet replied. “Just pretend you’re on holiday.”

  Janet washed her face and brushed her teeth and then changed into her favourite nightgown. She crawled into bed and was asleep in minutes.

  Some time after midnight, she came awake suddenly. She sat up in bed and listened. The loud scream that had woken her was repeated as her heart pounded in her chest.

  Chapter Five

  With her senses on full alert, Janet slowly slid out of bed and found her slippers and her bathrobe. She tiptoed across the bedroom and then stopped at her door. After the second scream, she’d heard nothing but silence. She turned the doorknob, wincing as it squeaked under her hand. Holding her breath, she slowly pulled the door open.

  The moon, shining through a small window at the top of the landing, was providing the only illumination in the short hallway. Janet looked up and down the hall, but it was empty. After a moment of indecision, she headed for the stairs. Better to get Joan to join her before checking the other bedrooms. As she descended the stairs, she started to worry about her sister. Where was she? Surely the screams had woken her as well.

  Janet expected to run into to Joan at any second, but she reached the ground floor without hearing another sound or seeing her sister. She walked down the corridor to the owner’s suite and tapped gently on the door. After a moment, she knocked again, with more force. Getting no reply, she gave up on knocking and opened the door.

  “Joan?” she called out quietly. “Are you awake?”

  The sound of snoring coming from the bedroom answered that question for her. Janet shook her head and then stomped across the floor.

  “Joan? Didn’t you hear the screaming?” she asked loudly, right next to her sister’s ear.

  Joan sat up in bed, nearly bashing heads with Janet. “Janet? What are you doing here? What time is it?”

  Janet glanced at the clock. “It’s two-fifteen,” she told her sister. “And I was woken up by screaming, so I came down to get you so we could check the house over together.”

  “Screaming?” Joan echoed. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “You were snoring too loudly,” Janet replied.

  “I don’t snore,” Joan told her stoutly. “I suppose you won’t be able to sleep until we check the house, though, will you?”

  Janet thought about it. “Not really,” she said. “I definitely heard someone screaming. Maybe we should ring the police, now that I think about it.”

  “Let’s look out the front window, first of all,” Joan suggested. “Maybe something has happened across the street or something.”

  Joan put on her own slippers and robe and the two sisters headed towards the front of the house. The more awake she became, the more Janet began to doubt what she’d heard. Outside, the street was dark and nothing seemed to be moving.

  “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” Joan asked as they began to walk through the downstairs, switching lights on and off in each room.

  “I’m sure,” Janet replied, even though she was feeling less certain every second. She peeked into the small cloakroom, but it was as empty as every other room on the ground floor had been.

  “Just the first floor to check,” Joan said.

  The two guest bedrooms and bathrooms were quickly inspected and found to be empty. Janet switched on her own lights and walked through her bedroom and bathroom.

  “Nothing,” she said quietly as she sat down on her bed.

  “Perhaps you had a bad dream,” Joan suggested. “You sometimes do in strange places.”

  “Yes, but I’ve never dreamed that I’ve heard screaming before,” Janet argued. “It’s very strange.”

  “I think we should both get back to sleep,” Joan told her. “Would you like a cup of tea before you go back to bed?”

  Janet shook her head. She’d caused enough fuss and bother for one night. “I’m sure some more sleep will do me a lot of good,” she told her sister. “Sorry about waking you.”

  “That’s no problem,” Joan assured her.

  Joan gave her a warm hug. Janet sat on the bed, listening to her sister’s footsteps getting further away. After several minutes, she switched off the lights and curled back under the covers. Sleep was elusive and erratic and morning seemed to arrive far too quickly.

  When she got downstairs for breakfast after a shower that did little to wake her up, Janet was pleased to find that Joan had made coffee. Both sisters preferred tea, but this morning coffee was definitely called for, at least as far as Janet was concerned. Joan didn’t look the slightest bit tired.

  “Did you manage to get back to sleep?” Joan asked as Janet filled the largest mug she could find to the very brim with hot coffee.

  “Not really,” Janet told her. She took a small sip and sighed. Although logic told her that the caffeine couldn’t possibly have done anything yet, even that single sip seemed to make her feel more alert. By the time she’d emptied the mug, she felt almost like her usual self.

  “I made oatmeal,” Joan told her, filling a bowl for Janet.

  Janet felt her emerging good mood vanish. She hated oatmeal and Joan knew it. Joan, on the other hand, not only loved it, but also seemed to feel that it had its own restorative qualities. Every time Janet was tired or poorly, Joan made her oatmeal for breakfast.

  The sisters sat at the table together and ate their breakfast. Joan ate with enthusiasm, while Janet worked her way through her bowl resignedly.

  “So, I suppose we should go and see Gavin Appleton this morning and give him the letters,” Joan said as Janet did the washing up.

  “Should we read them first?” Janet asked, hoping her sister would say yes, but fairly sure she wouldn’t.

  “That would be wrong,” Joan said primly. “They aren’t ours to read.”

  “They came with the house,” Janet reminded her.

  Joan shook her head. “We know that Gavin wants the letters back,” she said. “Perhaps he’s embarrassed by things he said in them. It isn’t our place to read them.”

  “I’ll go get them,” Janet said, swallowing a sigh. It wasn’t that she was especially nosy, she just had a healthy sense of curiosity, she told herself as she headed into the library. The folders were exactly where she’d left them and she flipped through them, pulling the bottom one out and returning to the kitchen with it.

  “I’ll just glance through the pile and make sure that they’re all from Gavin,” she told her sister, sitting down at the table. “We definitely shouldn’t give him anyth
ing that isn’t his.”

  Joan didn’t object, so Janet quickly went through the small stack. It only took a moment to check that all of the letters were indeed signed “Gavin.” There were only about a dozen letters in the pile and, as Janet closed the folder, she began to regret that she hadn’t taken the time to read her way through them the previous evening, before she’d told Joan about them.

  They agreed to stop at the man’s garage on their way to the grocery store. Now that Joan was feeling more settled in the house, she wanted to start doing a great deal more baking. Janet grinned as she climbed into the car. Joan’s mood had all the hallmarks of a baking frenzy, something that happened once or twice a year to her big sister, usually after some small upset.

  The frenzy always started with Joan pulling out a number of cookbooks, looking for new and interesting recipes to try. Janet had spotted several of Joan’s old favourites on the kitchen counter, along with a new American one that she’d purchased only a few weeks earlier.

  If Janet was correct, the trip to the grocery store would be an expensive one, but once they were home again Joan would start baking everything from bread to pies to biscuits and cakes.

  We’d better invite the neighbours around for tea soon, Janet thought, otherwise we’ll never eat it all. Joan usually baked for three or four days before she ran out of ingredients or recipes she wanted to try or both. Then she’d go back to her normal pattern of baking just a little something every day.

  Joan drove today and Janet enjoyed the scenery that she hadn’t really noticed on their last trip when she’d been driving. When they arrived at the garage, one of the large overhead doors was open.

  “Oh, good, someone is here,” Joan said as she turned into the car park.

  “I hope it’s Gavin,” Janet said. “I don’t want to leave these papers with a stranger.”

  Joan parked and turned off the engine. “I suppose we should both go in,” she said in a reluctant voice.

  “Unless you’d rather go alone,” Janet said, suddenly wishing they’d just turned the papers over to the police to return to Gavin.