Killer at the Castle (A Cornish Witch Mystery Book 3) by Stella Berry

Author:Stella Berry [Berry, Stella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-27T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

At precisely six o’clock Justin and Morgana rang the bell on the house where David Bailey and Alice Bailey lived.

“Not exactly a country pile like Bailey Hall, but not too shabby either.” Justin whispered.

Morgana looked up at the house. It was Georgian in style, with long windows and high ceilings. There were roses around the gate and wisteria growing up the outer walls, all adding bright splashes of colour. It was a couple of miles inland, but very well placed in a pretty little hamlet of houses, that had a sea view from the front and sheltered gardens to rear.

“Agreed. They can’t be particularly in need of money. Then again, a place like this needs upkeep.”

A short, stocky woman, with bobbed dark brown hair, answered the door. Morgana recognised her as Alice Bailey, but this was the first time she’d properly met her. She was about mid-thirties according to Ellie, and had a round face and bright intelligent eyes. She wore a high buttoned blouse and a knee length skirt over her stocky frame, with very sensible shoes, and a pair of gardening gloves which she pulled off as she looked at them expectantly. “Can I help you?”

“Hello, I’m Justin Pace. Mr. Bailey is expecting me?”

She furrowed her brow. “On what business?”

“I’m doing an article on Bailey Hall for the English Heritage magazine, I spoke with him about it this morning.”

“Oh. Oh dear, I am sorry, he didn’t mention it. He can be a little forgetful like that sometimes. You’d better come in.” She opened the door wide to let them in and gave Morgana a quizzical look. “Don’t you live in Portmage? One of Delia Emrys’ daughters?”

Morgana gave her a friendly smile. “That’s right, I’m Morgana. Justin and I are friends so he asked me to come and take notes for him. I hope that’s alright?”

“Yes, of course. I just love your mother’s work. We have one of her paintings in the drawing room, right over the mantelpiece.”

“I’ll tell her that, she’ll be thrilled.”

Morgana followed Alice through to a small sitting room, where a fire crackled in the hearth despite the fact it was summer. A man sat in an armchair pulled close to it, a book resting on his knees as he dozed.

“Dad? There’s a journalist here to talk to you.” Alice shook her father’s shoulder gently.

“What?” Mr. Bailey gave a start, and his book slipped to the floor. “Who?” He looked around and stared at Justin and Morgana as though they were doing something strange.

“A journalist. Justin Pace, apparently you spoke to him this morning?” She bent and retrieved the book, putting it down on the small table beside him.

Mr. Bailey’s face cleared. “Oh yes, of course! Do forgive me, I get very tired in the afternoons. Damn arthritis, don’t you know, it drains all my energy just getting out for a bit of a walk, and I like to take a walk before lunch, don’t I Alice?”

“Yes, dad. Every single day, regular as clockwork, you take your walk.

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