Page 18 of Honey Mead Murder

“Days are a really long time in dog years.” Margo laughed when Treacle and Bumble ran circles around them before flopping down on their bellies on the grass. “Well, that’s them exhausted.”

“C’mon, lads, into the house. I’m sure Margo has treats for you.” George nudged Bumble lightly with his toe. He didn’t budge an inch. “You ran for all of five seconds. You can’t possibly be this tired.”

With some cajoling, they managed to get everyone into the cottage. Margo had sandwiches and biscuits for them. She’d also gotten a pot of tea brewing. It was the perfect counterpart for them to share their tale.

“She threw a vase at him?” Margo stood frozen, still pouring tea. Teagan leapt up to grab her arm before the cup overflowed. “Thanks, Tea.”

“Happy to help.” They blushed.

George noticed how they lingered for a second, Teagan’s hand still on Margo’s arm. Interesting. He glanced over at Murphy, who winked at him. Right, time to change the subject before things get awkward. “So, Natalia clearly thinks Darren’s capable of killing Ronald or had the motive, if nothing else. And she’s obviously convinced the affair happened.”

“She’s shown a violent streak as well. Maybe she’s protesting his guilt so loudly because she’s deflecting attention away from herself,” Teagan offered.

“Wouldn’t Ella have been her target?” George thought Natalia might be capable of it, but what would her motivation have been? Ronald, if anything, was an equally wounded party.

“Maybe Ella was the target. The drink could’ve gone to the wrong person, and now she’s trying to cover her tracks.” Teagan made an excellent point. George hadn’t considered Ronald not being the original target. “I’d say put an asterisk next to their names on your list.”

“So, what did Natalia say when you popped into her shop?” Murphy asked the question George had politely been avoiding. He hadn’t wanted to press but was desperately curious. “Did she say anything about Darren?”

“She called him an absolute wanker about twenty times in the space of a minute.” Teagan moved away from Margo and returned to the armchair they’d claimed. “I honestly didn’t get much out of her. On the other hand, though, she did mutter something about not letting Ella drag them down with her.”

“Intriguing.” Margo finished pouring tea for everyone and set the pot aside. She grabbed her cup and went to sit in the chair beside Teagan’s. “Maybe she thinks Ella did it.”

“Maybe she thinks they both did it.” George grabbed the notebook Margo had left on the coffee table. “Trying to get rid of the husband so they can be together?”

“Maybe she’s worried she’s next?” Murphy stretched his arm across the back of the sofa. His hand rested on George’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m wondering if we should tell Sarah.”

“That we eavesdropped on a domestic, then theorised the husband may or may not be plotting to kill the wife?” George didn’t think they had anything concrete at all. “I’ve watched enough telly to know the police will think we have vivid imaginations.”

“We do. Well, you do. Remember those stories you used to write?” Margo teased him with a good-natured grin.

“It’s not my fault. Ma told me to write down my dreams. So I did. How am I to blame for how ridiculously vivid they were?” George had suffered night terrors as a child and teenager. His parents had suggested journaling as a way to get the thoughts out of his head. It hadn’t helped, but the stories had been creative. “All I’m saying is if we tell Sarah now, she’ll think we’re gossiping. And it doesn’t look brilliant when they’ve already dragged Murphy in for questioning.”

“And I am not anxious for a repeat.” Murphy grabbed his phone out of his pocket when it buzzed. “Sarah heard about the argument.”

“I imagine everyone in the entire village has heard about the Fishwicks going at it in the middle of the street by now.” George had no doubts the story had spread like a virus. Nothing stayed secret in a little place like Dufftown. “Everyone’s already in everyone’s business here. A couple shouting and throwing vases? I imagine half of Cornwall knows about it by now.”

“He’s not wrong,” Margo readily concurred. “The WhatsApp group chat for the local paramedics was buzzing about it before you’d even gotten to my door. Everyone wanted all the details about Darren’s dust-up with his wife. He’s not the most well-liked bloke. Tends to rub people the wrong way.”

“He rubbed Ella—”

“Teagan.” Murphy cut them off before they could finish.

“All I’m saying is he rubbed at least one person the right way.” Teagan snickered before hiding behind their cup of tea. “Sorry.”

“How do we figure out if Darren was actually involved?” George decided to bring the conversation back around to a more comfortable topic.

“We could always ask him.” Murphy adjusted his arm around George, ignoring the looks from Teagan and Margo. “Maybe it’s time for a little subtle prodding.”

ELEVEN

MURPHY

“You could ask Margo out.” Murphy threw the question at Teagan while they were driving him home. “I’m pretty sure she’d say yes.”

“I’m aware. She already said yes.” Teagan grinned when he cheered them on and gave their arm a light punch. “I didn’t want to wait until we were as old and grey as you.”

“Rude. But also, she said yes?” Murphy teased. He was happy for his younger friend. They’d had a crush on Margo for a while. He frowned when he noticed the caution tape still littering the ground near the brewery. “Who do you think did it?”

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