Page 53 of Murder in the Winter Woods
‘That’s close to where I live,’ Julia had said. ‘I pass it all the time, on my way to the river path with Jake. Give the book to me; I’ll drop it off to him over the weekend.’
Julia now ate a quick lunch of warmed-up pea soup and wholemeal toast – it was just the meal for the chilly weather – and got the crumble filling ready so she could top it and bake it on her return. She bundled up against the breeze, and then bundled up Jake. It was the first time she’d tried to put on his Christmas jersey, and after the experience with the Perfect Paw Washer, she’d been rather apprehensive. Jake, to her surprise, was a model of sensible behaviour. He stood calmly while she put it over him and fastened it under his tummy. ‘Don’t you look smart?’ she said. She was pleased with her choice: the red and black tartan looked good against his glossy brown coat. She attached his lead, dropped the music book into a tote bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder. The two of them set off on their mission.
On a Sunday afternoon, the river path was nicely busy, with plenty of dogs for Jake to greet, and humans for him to charm. He trotted along at Julia’s side, tail wagging happily, his nosetwitching inquisitively at each new smell. His tail-wagging pace stepped up a notch when he spotted Pippa and her clutch of puppies, accompanied by an older lady with a walking stick. They were walking towards them. The puppies were similarly pleased to see Jake, squirming in delight, soft little blobs of happiness. Pippa let them off their leads so they could play freely on a nice bit of lawn next to the path, on the side away from the river. Jake, similarly liberated from his lead, was like an indulgent uncle, playing gently with the youngsters, letting them jump up at him and nibble his tail.
Pippa introduced her companion as her aunt Margaret. Julia had heard from Pippa about her aunt’s health troubles, but she seemed quite serene and even happy, if rather tottery on her feet. Up close, Julia realised she was younger than she’d appeared from afar. Only a few years older than Julia herself, but rather frail, which was hardly surprising.
Aunt Margaret greeted Julia, and then asked Pippa, ‘Are we going to the shops now?’
‘No, not now,’ Pippa said.
‘Good, I will watch these little chaps play with the big brown fellow in his kilt.’ Margaret sat down on the bench and turned her attention to the dogs. Jake was lying down and the puppies were clambering clumsily all over him. Aunt Margaret chuckled.
‘We’ve actually just come from the shops,’ Pippa said quietly to Julia. ‘She’s terribly forgetful, and forever losing things. Or she thinks she’s lost them. A special pen, some jewellery, her favourite hand cream. But she’s often completely normal and lucid.’
Julia watched Aunt Margaret chortle when one of the puppies attached himself to Jake’s tail in some sort of tug-of-war, pulling and growling. ‘That’s hard, but at least she seems quite cheerful and not too anxious about it all,’ she said to Pippa.
‘I know! It’s so lovely, to be honest. A silver lining. She was never a cheerful person. Honestly, she was sort of bitter, and could be mean, but since she got sick and moved back to Berrywick, she seems happier. The neurologist says that it could be the position of the tumour. Honestly, the brain is a mysterious thing. Oh gosh, speaking of batty old aunts…’ Pippa looked over Julia’s shoulder. Julia turned to follow her gaze. Aunt Edna was tottering down the path towards them. She was reed thin, and Julia feared for her in the wind. She imagined the old lady’s nest of scarves and what looked like a velvet cape filling with air like a spinnaker, and carrying her away to who-knew-where.
‘Good morning, Aunt Edna,’ Pippa and Julia said in unison.
‘Is there an echo?’ Edna asked, looking around crossly.
‘No,’ said Pippa and Julia.
‘How are you, Aunt Edna?’ asked Julia, solo.
‘Old.’
‘I see. Well…’ Julia, uncharacteristically, was at a loss as to how to respond.
‘And whatever they say, you can teach an old dog new tricks,’ Edna said, decisively.
‘Edna!’ said Margaret, looking up from the dogs. ‘Is that you?’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Margaret.’
‘Margaret? I don’t think so.’
Julia and Pippa were watching this exchange in bemusement, heads swivelling from one lady to the other, as if they were watching a tennis match.
‘Oh yes, definitely,’ Margaret assured her, nodding solemnly.
‘Aren’t you dead?’
‘No. They say I’ve got a tumour in my head, but I can’t see anything there.’ She reached up and parted the hair that lightly adorned her head.
Edna stepped closer and leaned down to peer into the soft, snowy tufts. ‘No, there’s nothing there, you’re fine,’ she pronounced, straightening up with some difficulty, and an audible creak.
‘That’s what I tell them. Well, you have a good day, Edna.’
‘Let sleeping dogs lie, Margaret.’ Edna started to move away, and then turned to look directly into Julia’s face. ‘And as for you, you’re barking up the wrong tree,’ she said, and tottered off down the path.
Julia considered the mysterious comment, and her current concerns and assumptions, as she and Jake continued their walk along the river, in the direction of Ken’s house. Edna might be quite batty, and talk a lot of nonsense, but Julia often got a funny feeling that Ednaknewthings.WasJulia barking up the wrong tree? And which tree, in particular? And if so, which was the correct tree up which to bark?
Her conversation with Clarissa had given her a lot to think about. Their investment with Anthony was one of the things that Lewis and Matthew had in common. Could their deaths be connected with that? Clarissa had said the two men had dithered, and, at some point, had wanted to change their minds and exit the investment. She’d also said that all three partners had to agree in order to withdraw the money. Might Anthony have killed Lewis and Matthew to keep the money in the scheme? And where did that leave Ken – because Ken was, of course, the third member of the syndicate,
