Page 6 of Marriage and Murder
He reached for her hand, and she watched him bow over it.
Straightening and releasing her, he caught her eye. “I meant what I said. If you need anything, I’ll be happy to help.”
With a distant smile, she dipped her head and turned away. She opened the gate and went through, pushed it closed behind her, then walked the few steps to the rectory door. As she turned the knob and crossed the threshold, she knew beyond question that no matter what help she needed, she wouldn’t be appealing to Monty. There was no circumstance that would induce her to invite a man like him into her now well-ordered and successful life.
Gently, she closed the door, then peeked through the lace screening the glass side panel. Monty hovered on the other side of the gate, apparently staring at the closed door.
He remained there, seemingly indecisive, for nearly a minute, then turned and walked toward the lane.
Madeline straightened and realized she was relieved he’d gone. She couldn’t quite understand why, yet she found it strange that after nearly seventeen years, Monty had chosen that moment to reappear in her life.
CHAPTER 2
Penelope had just sent away the tea tray, and she, Barnaby, and Henry were exchanging news of their various relatives’ children when sounds of arrival in the front hall were followed by Stokes walking determinedly into the room.
Barnaby and Henry rose, while Penelope remained seated.
Stokes half bowed in her direction, then held out his hand to Barnaby.
After shaking hands, Stokes, whose gray gaze had fixed on Henry, nodded in greeting and offered his hand. “Lord Glossup.” With a faint smile teasing his lips, Stokes added, “I would say that it’s a pleasure to see you again, but given the circumstances, you might not feel the same. Be that as it may, I’m actually glad to find you here.”
“Oh?” Henry shook hands, then he and Barnaby resumed their seats on the pair of long sofas, and Stokes moved to the place opposite Penelope.
“Indeed.” Stokes sat. “I left the commissioner’s office to find Adair’s summons waiting. As it happened, courtesy of the commissioner’s direction, I was already heading this way. The Salisbury City Police, who are in charge of investigatingthe suspicious death of”—Stokes drew out his notebook and consulted a page—“one Viola Huntingdon, spinster, have requested Scotland Yard’s assistance in the matter of apprehending the man they believe to be the guilty party.” Stokes looked at Henry. “Given that you’re here, I assume you’re aware that you are the Salisbury police’s prime suspect.”
Henry briefly closed his eyes, then sighed, opened them, and admitted, “I was worried it would come to that.”
Penelope leapt to say, “We’ve already heard the basis of the case against Henry, and it seems entirely circumstantial and altogether weak.”
Stokes’s expression was as close as it ever got to reassuring. “I suspected as much. That’s why the Salisbury Superintending Constable has passed the hot potato to us. He might wish to say it’s an open-and-shut case and they have their man, yet even he isn’t entirely convinced.” Stokes focused on Henry. “You’ll be pleased to know that we at the Yard”—grinning, he tipped his head to Barnaby and Penelope—“and especially our two consultants here are not so inclined to leap to conclusions.”
“Thank God for that,” Henry muttered, and it was plain he was greatly relieved.
Stokes continued, “Needless to say, especially in light of my previous visit to that part of the country, the case has officially landed in my lap, along with the recommendation to inquire whether you two”—again, he nodded to Barnaby and Penelope—“are available to assist.”
Penelope promptly replied, “We are, indeed, available and keen to help.”
Barnaby was faintly frowning. “Ashmore’s in Dorset, isn’t it? Why is it Salisbury City’s case?”
It was Henry who replied, “Because Ashmore is close to the county border, and although Wiltshire has a countywide policeforce, Dorset is yet to appoint one, so in the Ashmore area, Salisbury City Police are the responsible police force.”
“In addition,” Stokes said with a questioning look at Henry, “there are, I’m told, local constables.”
Henry nodded. “They’re stationed in various villages and report to Salisbury. In Ashmore, Constable Price is our local man. He lives on the family farm nearby and watches over several villages, not just Ashmore.”
“Right, then.” Stokes flipped to a fresh page in his notebook, then looked at Henry. “I would be obliged if you would tell me all you know of the victim, Viola Huntingdon, and anything pertinent regarding her death.”
Henry blinked, then ventured, “I’m not sure I can tell you much of Viola—I didn’t know her all that well.”
Penelope took pity on him and asked, “Had she lived in the village for long?”
“Oh. I see. About five years.” Henry paused, then added, “She bought Lavender Cottage a little after that business with Kitty.”
Busily scribbling, Stokes caught Penelope’s eye and nodded encouragingly.
She continued, “Was Viola well-liked in the village?”
“Ah, well, not entirely.”
