Page 27 of Honey Mead Murder

“You mean, less likely to tell you he’s aggravated with you.” George moved over to one of the boxes. He pulled the flaps apart and stared in stunned amazement. “Books. Some of these are very old and probably worth some money. Why throw them out?”

“Spite? If he cared about them, maybe she’s snubbing her nose at him by throwing out prized possessions or family heirlooms?” Murphy stepped up beside him. He picked up one of the books, flipping through it to see it was over a hundred years old. “We’re going to have to be careful with these. I wouldn’t want to damage them. Seamus might be able to donate them to a library or sell them.”

“If you had a cheating wife with no value for books, where would you hide your secrets?” George gingerly flipped through the first novel he’d picked up. “This could be a complete waste of time.”

“I’m with you; combing through books to look for a clue to point to a murder doesn’t seem like a waste of time to me. Sounds like a brilliant way to spend my day.” Murphy set the book in his hand down and reached for another one. “The collected works of Shakespeare. Think they ever read these?”

“Only if to appear impressive to all their friends and probably at boarding school.” George grabbed a random history book. He carefully went through all the pages and found nothing before picking up another one. “Oh, hello, what are you?”

“Find something?”

“An envelope.” George extracted it from the middle of the book. There was no writing on the outside to identify where it was from or who it had been sent to. “Should we open it?”

Before Murphy could respond, his phone gave a jaunty ring. He answered immediately. George listened while Detective Constable Elwin Smith lectured; he was so loud it was easy to hear both sides of the conversation.

George ran his finger underneath the envelope flap. “I suppose we shouldn’t open this.”

Murphy slid his phone back into his pocket. “Elwin’s on his way. He wants to collect the evidence himself. He said not to touch anything we haven’t already looked at.”

“I’ve already touched this.” George waved the envelope in his hand. His curiosity was definitely getting the better of him. What was inside? A love letter? A will? Didn’t detectives always find something of that sort in the best murder mysteries? “I’m dying to know what it is.”

“Could be nothing.” Murphy moved around the box to stand next to him. “Or, it could be something.”

“Are you always this profound after an hour of digging around in rubbish?” George teased. He pushed open the envelope flap. “Oh look, it’s open. I guess we’ll have to see what’s inside.”

With a snort of amusement, Murphy reached out to take the envelope's contents. It was several sheets of folded paper. Good quality, thick paper. He unfolded what turned out to be a legal document.

A prenuptial agreement.

A sticky note on the first page included a handwritten message to Ronald. Short and sweet. It simply reminded him of the requirements for divorce. George wondered if it had come from the man’s solicitor.

“I’ll see you at the mead tasting.” Murphy tapped his finger against the note. “Interesting. I don’t remember all of the people who were at the pub. I’ll ask Evan. Maybe he can give us a description. It would be intriguing to know if the solicitor did show up. Maybe that pushed Ella over the edge and made her act?”

“Or convinced her to tell her accomplice?” George thought about the napkin found at the pub. “What if the solicitor was at the brewery to serve divorce papers? What if Ronald thought she wouldn’t make a scene in public?”

“One doesn’t make a scene in public, does one?” Murphy returned the papers to the envelope, setting it on top of the book. “A divorce, according to the prenup, would leave her with next to nothing. She wouldn’t get any of the houses. A small lump sum, but certainly not enough to keep her living as she’d become accustomed.”

“That’s motive. Right there in black and white.”

“If you had everything, and someone could take it away from you…” Murphy gathered up the books they’d already checked and placed them back in the box. “Greed can bring out the worst in people.”

“Can? Money can bring out the worst in people. Greed does. Money is inert. It just is.” George removed the gloves from his hands. He shook his fingers out for a few seconds, hating the sensation left behind. “How do we determine if Ella was served divorce papers at the brewery that night?”

“We go back through the CCTV video from the tasting night. Maybe the cameras picked up the moment it happened?” Murphy eyed the other opened boxes. “Elwin has no idea how many of these we’ve opened.”

“Nope.”

“We could always check to see if there’s anything else.”

George grinned at Murphy, who was already stepping over to one of the unopened boxes. “Elwin’s all bark and no bite. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

FIFTEEN

MURPHY

It was, in fact, not fine.

They found nothing of interest in the rest of the boxes. When Elwin finally arrived, they were sitting outside having tea and biscuits with Seamus. He’d been the one to pick everything up from the Donelson’s place.

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