The Lavender Killer (Norfolk Cozy Mysteries Book 8) by Keith Finney

Author:Keith Finney [Finney, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flegg Publishing
Published: 2024-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

The soft patter of rain on the orangery roof of Stanton Hall provided a soothing backdrop to the tense gathering within. With a clean bill of health, Antony Stanton sat at a wrought-iron table, tracing the intricate design in search of truth. Lyn perched beside him, her blonde hair catching the faint light that seeped through the grey clouds overhead.

Lyn had briefed on the morning's events. Now he wished to open a fresh line of investigation.

'The Spindler family name keeps popping up in our record archive as people who were fond of land disputes in the past.'

'As in, Kevin Spindler's family?' Fitch asked.

'The same. And like his fore bares, he's at odds with half the village.'

Lyn nodded. 'You think he had something to gain from both incidents.'

Fitch, a man whose sharp eyes missed little, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. 'It's funny you should mention him. When I picked the Jaguar up, I got chatting to one bystander who said he saw the man running from the car. He didn't see his face, but he said the fella had a long ponytail. I dismissed it until you mention his name.'

Sophie clasped her teacup, the floral pattern almost lost in the tight grip of her hands. 'But suspicions aren't enough, are they? We need more than a hippy hairstyle to go on.'

'Which is precisely why we should confront him.' Ant's declaration hung between the group like a challenge.

'A visit might just shake loose the truth,' Lyn replied, her gaze flickering towards the window.

'Agreed,' Ant said, rising from his chair, before wishing he hadn't moved. 'Ug, that hurt.'

Lyn rushed to settling her fiance back into the chair. 'Silly man. What do expect after being knocked out and almost burnt to death? You're not going anywhere, at least for today'.

Ant, resigned to his fate, slumped into his chair.

'Let's get ready, then. Time to pay Mr. Spindler a neighbourly call,' said Fitch.

'I'll follow you in the MINI,' Lyn announced.

'Don't you want to come with us?' asked Fitch as Sophie smiled in the background.

'You must be joking. Ant's Morgan is bad enough without me getting into your clapped-out recovery truck. Mind you, at least you'll never get lost.'

'What do you mean? Fitch asked.

'The trail of engine oil you leave behind you.'

'Very funny, not.' Fitch replied, feigning a hurt look.

The air buzzed with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, each individual grappling with the consequences that lay ahead.

Stepping out from their vehicles, the trio took in the crisp scent of the early evening air; the rural landscape a sombre backdrop to their mission. Lyn felt the weight of responsibility tighten around her chest as she led the way, the gravel crunching underfoot marking their every step.

Sophie hesitated.

'What's up?' Lyn asked.

'Three's a crowd.'

'Eh?'

'We're going in mob handed. Why don't you two go? I'll wait in the truck. What do you say?'

Lyn thought for a moment. 'I get what you mean. OK, it's decided.'

'Remember, we're just here for a chat,' Lyn whispered, her eyes scanning the windows for any sign of movement in Kevin Spindler's majestic home.

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