Murder at the Mansion Read online

  Poppy looked up from the scrunched up tissues she held to her nose and into Annabelle’s compassionate eyes.

  “Go on,” Annabelle urged.

  “William…Will,” Poppy said suddenly, as if it were an uncontrollable reaction. “Will Conran. He’s a friend of mine – an ex-boyfriend. We grew up together. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

  Annabelle rubbed Poppy’s back. She could see the relief flooding through the younger woman’s slim body, as if purging a poison she had held inside for a very long time.

  “He’s always been an archer. He’s always used crossbows, since he was a teenager. Goes hunting regularly. Sometimes he’d go on several trips a week.”

  “You think Will might have shot Sir John?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I think so.”

  “Why?”

  Poppy’s sobs grew a little louder, and it took a while for Annabelle to calm her down enough to speak again. When she had, Poppy turned to the Vicar, and gathering all the strength she had, said,

  “Because I left Will for Sir John.”

  * * *

  The next few hours were a flurry of activity and noise. Once Annabelle had given the Inspector the name, he put all of his men on the tail of William Conran. With the call sent across police stations nationwide, it took barely an hour before they tracked Conran to Reading, just south of London. The Reading police were sure to secure the suspect and bring him to the local station, so it was just a matter of Inspector Nicholls driving there to question him. He threw on his distinctive trench coat and made for the police station exit.

  “You coming, Vicar?” he asked.

  Annabelle, who had been milling around the station, caught up in the excitement while swapping questions with Inspector, found herself utterly befuddled.

  “Me?”

  “Do you see any other vicars around here?”

  “You want me to come with you to Reading to interrogate the suspect?”

  “Why not? As you said, Vicar, you’ve been involved each time we’ve made a breakthrough. Either you’re very good at this or extremely lucky. Either way, I’d rather have you with me than not.”

  Annabelle grinned at the Inspector’s words. She would have hoped for nothing more just a couple of weeks ago.

  “Of course, Inspector. Lead the way.”

  Annabelle found herself carried off toward Reading police station along with various members of the police force. As the convoy of police cars set off into the early evening light with a flurry of squealing sirens and flashing lights, Annabelle found herself giddy with childish excitement. This was a change of pace from the county fair! They arrived as it was getting dark. Though the larger, busier atmosphere of the station made Annabelle feel slightly intimidated and a little over her head, she prepared herself to accomplish what she had set out to do since the beginning – discover the truth.

  With assurance and professionalism, the Inspector exchanged a few words with the Reading officers and was soon led toward the interview room that held Will Conran. Annabelle followed close behind, her self-confidence quickly being sapped as she realized the immense seriousness of what was happening.

  Conran was in his mid-twenties and as much a picture of youth and attractiveness as Poppy. With his chiselled jawline and sparkling blue eyes, Annabelle couldn’t help but notice what a perfect match they were – or at least, had been. Such a good-looking young chap would have no problems meeting a new girl, Annabelle thought, so if he were still to care about Poppy after all that had gone on, it must be a very deep love.

  “Why’s the Vicar here?” snarled Conran.

  “New justice system,” the Inspector said, gesturing Annabelle toward a seat opposite. “If you’re guilty, she’ll damn your soul straight to hell.”

  “Guilty of what?” Will barked.

  “You know what,” the Inspector growled back.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The Inspector leaned toward Annabelle and whispered in her ear. “You might want to come back later, this is going to take some time.”

  Annabelle looked at the Inspector, than back at Conran.

  “Poppy is in utter pieces!” Annabelle exclaimed loudly, taking both of the men by surprise. “She’s in a terrible state!”

  The Inspector put his hand on the Vicar’s arm to calm her down, but her eyes were locked with Will’s.

  “Poppy’s just a friend…”

  “She’s more than a friend,” Annabelle replied, with as much piercing aggression as she could muster.

  “Not for a long time,” came Will’s reply, but there was a shakiness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. The Inspector retracted his hand, noticing the effectiveness of the Vicar’s tactics.

  “So you don’t care about her?”

  “I… I care about her as much as she cares about me. So no.”

  “If she didn’t care about you,” Annabelle continued, lowering her voice to deliver the blow, “then why would she protect you?”

  “She… protected me? From what?”

  “It took her this long to give us your name in connection with the murder of Sir John Cartwright,” the Inspector chimed in.

  Will shook his head.

  “I didn’t do anything. If Poppy’s protecting anyone, it’s herself.”

  The three of them sat in silence for a few moments.

  “Well,” Annabelle said, with deflated exasperation, “if you didn’t do anything, then Poppy is off to jail for a very long time.”

  Will’s eyes widened. Annabelle stood up slowly, as if the interview had been concluded. Reading what she was doing, the Inspector followed suit.

  “Wait!” Will said.

  Annabelle and the Inspector froze, casting their eyes toward Will.

  “You… You can’t arrest Poppy for this. You know she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “We can, and we will,” the Inspector replied. “She knew how to use a crossbow. She was at the scene of the crime. And she was close enough to John Cartwright to benefit from it. Weapon, location, and motive. It’ll run a lot further in court than your character profile of her.”

  Will slumped over the table, his head in his hands.

  “Okay,” he mumbled.

  “What was that?” the Inspector asked.

  Will raised his head.

  “Okay. I’ll talk.”

  Annabelle and the Inspector took their seats again, and the Inspector gestured for Will to start speaking.

  “Me and Poppy grew up together. She was sort of my childhood sweetheart. We were together all through our teenage years. I loved her more than anything, but I made a lot of mistakes. Took her for granted.”

  “You made her steal for you,” the Inspector said.

  “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong though, Poppy wasn’t an angel herself. She liked nice things, expensive things. Clothes, make-up. You know how girls are. I got into shoplifting, and I got her to do it too. It’s easier to get away with it when you look as innocent as she does.

  “But then we got nicked. We’d already been caught a few times, but this time, it was big. We were actually breaking into a store. I ended up doing a lot of time. Four years. Poppy got one because her lawyer said I forced her to do it.”

  “And that made you bitter,” the Inspector prodded, again.

  “No. That’s not what made me bitter,” Will said, his eyes alive with anger and regret at his memories, “I would have done two extra years if it meant Poppy did none. But I expected her to wait for me. To support me. To appreciate what I had done for her all through our time together. Instead…”

  Will looked at the wall, unable to face his own pain.

  “She found John Cartwright,” Annabelle said, as softly as she could.

  Will slammed his fist against the table.

  “Can you believe it?! An old pervert more than twice her age! She was only meant to work for him a bit, doing some stupid maid stuff in one of his fancy houses in
the city. I knew he was after her from the start, but she wouldn’t listen. Then the next thing I know, she’s all, ‘I can’t live this life anymore, visiting you in jail, scratching a living as an ex-con. We both need a fresh start.’”

  “That’s when she came to Upton St. Mary?” asked the Inspector.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you followed her?” Annabelle asked.

  “Yeah,” Will said, quietly, “When I got out of prison, I went straight down there.”

  “Okay,” the Inspector sighed, “then what?”

  “I wanted to learn a bit about what they were doing there. Eventually I found out that Cartwright had bought the house from Harry Cooper. I found Cooper drunk in the pub one night. We got talking. It seemed like he hated John Cartwright nearly as much as I did.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t remember exactly. Something about selling him the house at a discount, so that he would have a share of the health spa… Yeah, that was it. Harry and a pair of crazy old women apparently. All invested in the health spa. Harry was really worried that John was going to swindle him somehow and kept spying on him.”

  “How would he spy?”

  “Well, he knew the property. He would go there sometimes to watch the house. Check up on him I guess. Make sure that everything was going to plan. He said he could see right into Cartwright’s bedroom from one spot. He told me about a secret entrance to the house, the coal cellar shaft in the woods.”

  “The spot you killed him from.”

  Will glared at the Inspector. “I already told you. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  Annabelle and the Inspector exchanged looks.

  “So you’re saying Poppy killed him?” the Inspector said.

  “I’m not saying anything,” Will sneered.

  “That’s the same thing.”

  Will broke into a pained smile. “You wouldn’t pin this on Poppy. You know she’s innocent.”

  The Inspector smiled back – Will was playing hardball, and that was the Inspector’s favorite game.

  “You’ve been to prison, Will,” the Inspector said. “You know how many innocent people there are in there. Sir John was a knight of the realm, so I’m not putting his death in the ‘unsolved’ section – somebody has to go down for his murder.”

  “But not Poppy…”

  “Look,” the Inspector said, leaning forward menacingly, “I’ve been on this case for over two weeks now. Everyone in this room knows you did it. But if you don’t talk, Poppy’s the closest thing to you I’ve got.”

  Will was breathing heavily, glancing around the room as if looking for an escape route. He had been backed into a corner, and he knew it. The Inspector saw that he was breaking down and urged him on.

  “So you were at the location in the woods.”

  “Yeah,” Will mumbled, dropping his head, “Harry told me it was a good spot for hunting. Lot of pheasants and even some rabbits in that area. So I went hunting.”

  The Inspector snorted. “Don’t try and tell me you killed him by accident.”

  “I’m telling you I went hunting. Yeah, I wanted to see the house for myself, maybe catch a glimpse of Poppy, but I was there to hunt.”

  “So how does that end up with you shooting him?”

  Will looked around him once again, trying to muster some more defiance, but when his eyes met the sympathetic face of the Vicar, he knew he had lost.

  “I saw him with Poppy. They walked around the house. Talking and laughing, just like I used to do with her. I couldn’t believe it.… Couldn’t believe how he acted like she was his. Putting his arm around her. Touching her. It made me furious. It still does.”

  “So you shot him?”

  “I just sat there, getting madder and madder. I felt like I was going to explode. I never hated anyone so much as I hated him. Then he opened the windows, and he just sat there, right in my view with that smug look on his face, as if he was looking right at me. It was like it was meant to be. I had the crossbow in my hand, and he was right there. His eyes weren’t even open.”

  Will swallowed hard before continuing.

  “I shot my crossbow, and then I just froze, staring at the window he had just been at. Then I just started running. I hadn’t seen if I had killed him, and I needed to make sure. I needed to see it with my own eyes. I knew Poppy would be in the house, but I just wanted to see him, make sure he was dead. I found the coal cellar entrance just where Harry had described it and ran through into the darkness beyond. I don’t know how, but I ended up in a bathroom, a big, fancy bathroom.

  But then I heard a car crunching on the gravel outside. I stopped running. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I waited. I waited a long time. I heard the car drive away but still I stayed where I was. I felt like I was going insane. I was trying to calm myself down, but I had to know if I’d killed him. Just as I was about to go through the door of the bathroom to look, the car came back! So I just went for it. Through the door and into the bedroom. The old man was spread out on the floor with an arrow through his heart. He was as dead as the crows I used to shoot when I was a kid. When I saw his body, I was so angry, so glad, so pumped-up, I yelled my head off.

  “Then I heard something downstairs, loud footsteps, like someone was running up the stairs. I ran back outside the way I came, through the coal cellar, and didn’t stop until I was back in Reading.”

  Will looked at the Inspector one last time, then slumped back in his chair, as if physically exhausted by the confession. It was over, and the tension in the room dissipated, leaving nothing but regret and sorrow for the lovelorn murderer.

  The Inspector rose to his feet and tapped Annabelle on the shoulder to do the same.

  “You’ll be going to jail for a very long time, Mr. Conran,” he said.

  “I know,” Will mumbled. “But at least Poppy will be free.”

  Annabelle looked at the condemned young man with deep sympathy.

  “You know, you could have won her back. She still cares for you. If only you hadn’t…”

  “I know that now,” Will said. “But it’s too late.”

  The Inspector shuffled Annabelle outside. She looked distraught. The Inspector placed a hand on her shoulder gently.

  “Such an awful tale!” Annabelle said.

  The Inspector nodded slowly. “I guess Sir John wasn’t the only victim of a broken heart. William Conran killed because he had nothing to live for without Poppy. Now he’ll spend the rest of his life in jail, reflecting on that one moment of passion-induced madness. Even if Poppy still loved him, he’ll never get to live the life he wanted with her because of this – and that’s the most severe punishment of all.”

  EPILOGUE

  IF THE GROUNDS of Woodlands Manor were beautiful before, those of the newly-refurbished Woodlands Manor Resort & Spa were spectacular. Annabelle and Philippa gasped with wonder as their Mini made its way up the driveway in a procession of cars.

  “They’ve worked wonders!” Philippa said, pointing at the grass tennis courts to one side.

  “Oh look! A pool!” Annabelle exclaimed.

  It had been a mere six months since the tragic events at Woodlands Manor, yet no remnants of the earlier dark circumstances were apparent in its magnificent reinvention. Annabelle slowed the car to a halt just in front of the entrance.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed with surprise when her driver side door was opened.

  “Ma’am,” said the red-suited valet.

  Philippa and Annabelle exchanged appreciative smiles before clambering out of the car. The valet took Annabelle’s keys and gestured to the side of the house.

  “If you’ll just follow the path, Vicar, you’ll find the other guests.”

  “Thank you,” Annabelle said, slightly embarrassed by the courteous treatment.

  “I could get used to this,” Philippa said, as they made their way along the indicated path.

  They found themselves at the back of the house and discovered lines of buffet tables arranged under
a large, brightly-colored marquee, a prudent necessity on even the sunniest of days in England, due to the whimsical unpredictability of the British weather. Around the tables gathered a large crowd composed of both Upton St. Mary villagers unaccustomed to such extravagance and well-heeled spa patrons unaccustomed to such villagers.

  As they stepped toward the crowd, two women emerged with open arms.

  “The guests of honor!” Sophie said, delightedly.

  “How wonderful to see you!” Gabriella added.

  After many enthusiastic hugs and greetings, Annabelle said, “It really was wonderful of you to invite the villagers to the opening.”

  “Oh, but of course! The villagers are the reason we decided to take on this project,” Gabriella said.

  “That and Gabriella having grown rather fond of the organic produce,” Sophie said.

  “Speaking of which, I insist you try these chia seed and coconut macaroons,” Gabriella said, gesturing toward the table. Annabelle and Philippa took one each.

  “I’ve never heard of chia seeds,” Philippa said.

  “They are going to be huge,” insisted Gabriella. “I hear they have them for breakfast in California. In smoothies. The health benefits are marvellous, darling.”

  Annabelle and Philippa took tentative bites, disguising their reactions with all the reserve and politeness that has been the staple of British life for centuries.

  “Oh. They’re very interesting,” Annabelle said, munching purposefully through the sticky treat.

  “Oh, and do try this chamomile tea,” Gabriella urged, pouring two teacups full of hot yellowy liquid and offering them to the guests.

  Once again, Philippa and Annabelle exchanged glances, sniffed at the aromatic beverage and sipped tentatively.

  “It’s very different from English tea,” Philippa said, who struggled to contort her expression into something resembling pleasure.

  Gabriella smiled with pride.

  “So, I take it you’re here to stay?” Philippa asked.

  “Indeed we are,” Sophie replied.

  “The French tourists have become British residents,” joked Gabriella.

  “You won’t miss London?” Annabelle asked.