Murder in the Neighbourhood: A Diane Dimbleby Cozy Mystery Page 2

Before Richard takes his leave, Diane nudges the inspector and whispers under her breath for him to take down the man’s contact information. Darrell bites his tongue to keep himself from losing his temper, but agrees with Diane’s recommendation and asks Richard for his phone number and address.

  When Richard leaves, Diane walks away from the traffic of all the police personnel and the curious bystanders. She finds a bench in a secluded section of Carys’ garden – the same bench where she and Carys had spent several sunny afternoons chatting away.

  Diane concludes that Richard Butler is hiding something. Exactly what though, she is not sure. She did not like to ‘jump to conclusions’, as Inspector Darrell Crothers had nearly accused her of. She liked to keep a clear head and focus on the facts like any respectable investigator would.

  But Richard’s inconsistent stories of what happened are certainly worth looking into, aren’t they? First, he said he was cooking when Carys fell. Then he retracted that and said he had not quite started cooking. Then he told Darrell that he found Carys when he arrived for his shift at four o’clock. Then he reverted back to the cooking story.

  Diane tries to recall her impressions of Richard from before today. She had not really given him much thought until now, even though she had met him numerous times. He always seemed very polite and willing to do anything to help Carys.

  But what did Diane really know about him? With her, at least, Richard rarely if ever shared anything about himself.

  Had he shared any personal information with Carys?

  Chapter 2

  A dozen or so villagers – most of Apple Mews’ main street residents, plus whoever they had a chance to ring – are standing behind the yellow police tape surrounding Carys Jones’ property. The men and women barely speak above a whisper; otherwise they hold their gazes towards the ground, all the while taking quick peeks to see if they can spot anything that can shed some light on what’s happened inside Carys’ home.

  The crowd’s sombre mood is suddenly lightened, albeit temporarily. The cause of their mild laughter – anything more would just be disrespectful – is a man who has just arrived on the scene. He is wearing a dark cloak and a dark Derby hat, and sports an unkempt, long white beard, quite obviously a fake.

  The laughter soon dissipates, the crowd quickly remembering their solemn roles, as the man approaches Inspector Crothers.

  “Hello Darrell,” says Dr. William Jackson.

  “William, you’re looking right posh,” chuckles Darrell. “And my oh my, you sure can grow a beard quickly. Why just the other day you were freshly shaven.”

  “Ha ha! It was my turn to lead the Charles Darwin tour in Shrewsbury” explains the medical examiner. “I got the call to come here just as we were leaving The Dingle. I don’t suppose the tour participants will still be waiting for me after this….”

  Darrell takes Dr. Jackson inside to show him where Carys Jones is lying on her living room floor. “Oh dear, this does not appear to be a peaceful passing,” the medical examiner says.

  Taking off the Derby hat and costume beard, he passes them to the inspector. He puts on a pair of gloves and surveys the entire body before him.

  Walking around to Carys’ head, Dr. Jackson squats down and gently moves her eyelids. Cupping her jaw with both hands, he tests to see if he can lower it. Lightly he bends her neck up and down.

  “Rigor mortis has not yet set in,” the doctor states.

  Darrell looks at his watch – 5:30pm. “That basically confirms the timing our witnesses reported that the… incident happened.”

  “Basically?” questions the medical examiner.

  “Yes, basically,” replies Darrell. “One of our witnesses seems to be a bit confused about when he got here and whether Mrs. Jones was still alive when he did. He may just be a tad emotional though.”

  Dr. Jackson eyes the inspector, giving a glance denoting that any doubt Darrell might have is certainly worth investigating further.

  The doctor then turns to his notebook and begins writing details about the exact positioning of Carys’ body. Although a forensic photographer is taking crime scene photos, Dr. Jackson likes to rely additionally on his first-hand observations that are not apparent in even the highest resolution photographs. Although a fall from a significant height, i.e. balcony, seems apparent, the cause of fall cannot be determined at this time, he writes.

  Once done performing his exam at the crime scene, Dr. Jackson asks if someone local can provide a formal identification of the body, or whether they should wait until she is brought to the morgue. Darrell suddenly remembers that the victim is a close friend of Diane’s.

  The inspector finds Diane outside, still sitting on the bench in a secluded section of Carys’ garden, appearing lost in thought.

  “Diane,” he calls softly.

  Who is he really, she wonders.

  “Diane,” Darrell calls again.

  Her ruminations of Richard quickly stop once she hears her name; she blinks to realize she is still sitting in her dear friend’s yard. Rufus, her dear friend’s dog, is seeking solace at her feet.

  “Hi there dear Rufus,” she says, petting the fur on his neck.

  “Diane, I’m sorry to bother you. We need somebody to identify the body… formally… with the medical examiner here. All we’ve been able to determine so far is that her relations are in Wales. Would you mind?”

  Diane shakes her head at first. The thought of going back into that house where her friend is lying dead sends chills down all her bones. But gradually her head-shaking transforms into a tentative nod, and she agrees.

  She slowly follows Darrell back inside. She sees Dr. Jackson next to Carys. He’s writing, almost feverishly, inside a notebook. For a moment her mind lapses, and she’s convinced he’s a newspaper reporter coldly lapping up the gory details of a woman’s mortality.

  He’s the medical examiner, Diane reminds herself, taking slow, almost childlike steps towards him and her friend.

  “William, this is Mrs. Diane Dimbleby. She lives a few houses down,” says Darrell.

  “Mrs. Dimbleby, thank you most kindly for your assistance. Do you know this woman?”

  Diane bursts out into renewed sobs and hides her head in Darrell’s chest. “It’s my friend, my dear, dear friend, Carys Jones,” she manages to say in muffled gasps.

  “She confirms it’s Carys Jones,” Darrell interprets. He holds Diane and for a moment has to keep her from falling to the ground next to where her friend is lying. Then, he slowly walks Diane back outside.

  Darrell’s sergeant, Bob Webster is waiting in the garden holding a leash attached to Rufus, Carys’ little dog.

  “Sir… Mrs. Dimbleby. I was just looking for you. I thought I might ask a favour. It will take a day or so before we can take Rufus here to the RSPCA. I wondered if you’d mind looking after him in the meantime. I saw you sitting on the bench earlier – he sure seems to have taken a liking to you.”

  Diane smiles a little. “I’d be pleased to. Rufus and I are good friends.” She kneels down and scratches behind Rufus’ ears. “We’ve taken some nice walks together, haven’t we,” Diane says.

  As her hands move down to pat Rufus’ neck and back she notices an oval-shaped locket hanging on his collar. It’s stainless steel and blends in almost perfectly with Rufus’ grey fur. Hmmmm, that’s curious…

  Diane does not think anyone else has noticed. She does not want to attract anyone’s attention to it, not yet anyway. She loves being the one to discover potential clues. She’ll open the locket at home, and if it turns out to be anything, she’ll positively let the inspector know.

  “I can take Rufus for as long as you need,” says Diane. “I’ll be off now. Darrell, you know where to find me.”

  Diane leads Rufus through two hedges in order to avoid the crowd of villagers still looking for answers. In almost any other case, Diane would enjoy speaking to each of them, but not today.

  When they reach the road, Rufus stops and stands firmly i
n place. He looks back at his home and whimpers.

  “I know you’re sad, boy,” Diane whispers in his ear. “I am too.”

  Rufus lets himself be pulled away. Diane decides they both need to go for a long walk before going home. She decides they’ll go visit Albert, but that they will take the wooded path through the green instead of the more direct route – less chance of running into anybody that way.

  When their feet hit the path, Diane finally feels like she’s able to catch her breath and surface, just a bit, from the shock. Rufus’ pace starts to quicken; he’s like his old self, happy to be outdoors. Diane removes his leash and he runs, barking after the sound of a woodpecker hammering away.

  Diane rolls back her shoulders and bends over to stretch her back. Continuing to walk, she tries to be aware of the full sensation of her feet touching the cushioned path to get her mind off the trauma she and Rufus have both experienced.

  Rufus runs back with a stick in his mouth. Diane giggles and obligingly throws the stick for him a little way down the path. Rufus bounces after his newfound toy and scoops it up in his mouth effortlessly. He brings it back, and Diane throws it a little farther.

  She can hear footsteps on the gravel behind her. Oh drat, is that somebody nosing about? she thinks. It would be rude to ignore them though. She turns around, except there is no one behind her. My mind must be playing tricks on me.

  Rufus returns with the stick, urging Diane to keep on playing. She does not oblige this time. “I want you to stay close Rufus… we’re almost there.”

  She hears what sounds like footsteps again. They sound closer and faster than the last time. In her peripheral vision she sees a figure approaching.

  Her body is no longer relaxed. Diane rapidly fastens Rufus to his leash and begins to run. Rufus willingly follows and overtakes her, propelling Diane to run faster. She hears the follower’s footsteps quicken behind them.

  Diane looks straight ahead to see the end of the path and a stretch of houses about 100 yards away. Her feet suddenly get caught up in a massive tree root that crosses the path, and she falls to the ground, badly bruising her knees. Hearing the footsteps drawing near, she struggles to stand herself up and begins sprinting with the help of her canine companion.

  At the end of the path, Diane can see Albert’s house. “We’re almost there,” Diane encourages herself more than Rufus, as they continue their quick pace to her friend’s front door.

  Diane knocks unrelentingly until Albert swings the door open. She practically pushes him inside so that she and Rufus can enter hastily, then slams the door shut.

  “Did you see him?” Diane screams.

  “Who?” shouts Albert, alarmed and concerned for his friend.

  “Richard!?! I think he was following us!”

  “I didn’t see anybody Diane. Here, come sit. You too Rufus. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

  Albert gently ushers Diane to one of his comfortable armchairs and goes out to the kitchen. Diane leans her head into the back of the chair and closes her eyes. Rufus jumps into her lap.

  Albert soon comes out with a hot cup of tea – just how Diane likes it – and a bowl of water for Rufus, then sits in a matching armchair across from Diane.

  “Now, have you caught your breath?” he asks.

  Diane nods her head and takes a long sip of her warm drink.

  “Who is Richard? And what’s got you in such a state?”

  “Richard is Carys’ caregiver!”

  “Oh, that’s right… how is Carys anyway?”

  “Albert! You haven’t heard?!?!”

  “Heard what?”

  Albert had spent the whole afternoon indoors sifting through online newspaper archives. He is a major history buff, and one of his personal projects is cataloguing the county’s most important headlines from the late 1700s until the present day. It is a time-consuming project that requires some degree of perseverance, but as Albert likes to say with a chuckle, “It keeps me out of trouble.”

  This afternoon had been particularly interesting - he had been reading all about the master engineer Thomas Telford – and so he had been far too distracted to know about Apple Mews’ goings-on today.

  “Albert…Carys is dead!”

  “Oh dear! I wasn’t expecting that.”

  Diane describes the ordeal of seeing her friend lying on the living room floor, looking so broken, so still. She feels comfort after sharing this with Albert. She is so lucky for his friendship and companionship.

  Although Albert has not been as close to Carys as Diane, he has enjoyed their conversations. Plus, he knows how upsetting this is to Diane.

  “So why were you running away from Richard?” Albert asks.

  “I don’t know if that was him. Maybe it wasn’t anybody. Maybe I’m going mad.”

  “But why are you scared of Richard? He seems like a stand-up chap.”

  “He’s hiding something Albert. He’s the one who found Carys.”

  “Do you think he did it? I thought it must have been an accident… oh dear!”

  “I don’t know Albert….”

  Diane decides she best be heading home. Her stomach is starting to growl – her dinner has probably cooked more than enough inside the crockery pot – and she should feed Rufus too. Diane asks Albert if he would like to come over for some stewed vegetables and chicken.

  “I should have known that is on the menu tonight,” Albert kids. He knows her tastes all too well. Diane’s not a vegetarian, but vegetables are her favourite foods to eat, plus they are cheaper than most other ingredients. She’ll complement veggies with fish or poultry – rarely, if ever, with pork or beef – and sometimes she’s happy to eat vegetables alone.

  Albert declines the dinner invitation as he himself is cooking a roast so that he can have for dinner and sandwiches for lunchtime tomorrow. He says he’ll walk Diane home though.

  Normally Diane would laugh off such an offer, but today she’s glad he asked. When they are outside her house, both Diane and Albert first walk up to Carys’. The crowd is gone, the front door is shut and not an emergency vehicle is in sight.

  “The forensic team must have completed their examination,” says Diane, pulling Rufus away and back towards her home.

  She hugs and thanks Albert and goes inside, detaching Rufus from his leash. He’s been inside her home a handful of times but sniffs around as if it is the first time. His nose leads him to the kitchen and the attractive aroma coming from the crockery pot.

  “Let’s have some dinner, shall we Rufus?”

  Diane suddenly remembers she forgot to grab Rufus’ food bag and bowl from Carys’ house. She’ll have to wait until Monday when she can get a hold of the landlord for the house key.

  “In the meantime, it’s people food for you,” says Diane.

  She serves herself a plate of vegetables and chicken and fills a small bowl for Rufus. She sets the bowl down on the floor, and Rufus practically inhales the contents with delight.

  “I should take that as a compliment, I gather?” Diane asks.

  She decides she needs something a little stiffer than a cup of tea with her dinner, so stands on her tippy toes to reach in the cupboard for that bottle of red wine she’s had for months. She suddenly remembers that Carys had given her the pinot noir for her birthday.

  Diane digs out the wine opener, pulls out the cork and pours herself a generous glass. To you, Carys.

  She takes her dinner and glass out to the living room with Rufus following close behind. She sits on the couch and turns on the television. The news is on. Diane starts eating her supper while giving Rufus nibbles of her chicken. She suddenly tunes into what the newscaster is saying:

  “A 63-YEAR-OLD SHROPSHIRE WOMAN DIED THIS AFTERNOON FROM AN APPARENT FALL INSIDE HER APPLE MEWS HOME. THE POLICE HAVE NOT CONFIRMED WHETHER THE FALL WAS AN ACCIDENT OR OF A SUSPICIOUS NATURE. HER NAME WILL NOT BE RELEASED TO THE PUBLIC UNTIL ANY AND ALL FAMILY RELATIONS HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED…”

  “You’re certainly
her family, Rufus,” Diane says, ruffling the fur around his neck.

  Diane can’t remember Carys talking much about any relatives. Had she mentioned anybody before? While Diane pats Rufus her hand rubs up against his collar. The locket!

  “I nearly forgot, Rufus,” she says, holding the locket in her hand. She carefully removes it from the collar and tries to open it. Her fingernails are too short to slide inside the catch. She runs into the bathroom to fetch her nail file and goes back to the couch where Rufus is still sitting. She slides the nail file inside the catch and opens the pendant. A mini scroll of paper and a key fall out.

  She picks them up off the floor and examines them. This might be a mailbox key, she thinks. She unrolls the tightly-wound piece of paper. It reads:

  “4u opn sdb 2914 at bk.”

  Diane immediately understands what it means: “For you to open the safety deposit box 2914 at the bank.”

  Surely Carys wrote this note and hid something very important in her safety deposit box at her bank. This must mean she knew she was in danger. But for how long did she know? I so wish she had told me. The thought of Carys living in fear for any amount of time makes Diane’s heart drop.

  “You were such a brave guardian of this important message,” says Diane, giving Rufus a little hug.

  What on Earth could be hidden away in her safety deposit box, wonders Diane. Carys was not always bountiful with sharing personal information, but Diane never once thought she might be hiding any dangerous secrets. She seemed to live such a serene life. If Carys, whom Diane considered a good friend, had another life that Diane knew nothing about, it just goes to show that you can never really know a person fully. Diane likes to think she knew David almost completely… and now perhaps Albert.

  Inspector Darrell Crothers should know about the safety deposit box. Diane looks at her watch – 10 o’clock. Perhaps it’s too late to telephone him. Besides, it’s a Saturday night, and the bank will not be open until Monday, she thinks.

  This demonstrates the state of shock that Diane still finds herself in. Normally she would know, as any seasoned detective would (professional or otherwise), that an investigation does not stop on the weekend. An inquiry, particularly of a suspicious death, can occur 24 hours a day, any day of the week. She could call the inspector who would then call and make sure a bank manager is there as soon as possible.