The Mystery of the Missing Man: Heathcliff Lennox Investigates: A Cotswolds murder mystery by Karen Baugh MENUHIN

Author:Karen Baugh MENUHIN [MENUHIN, Karen Baugh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Dog Publishing Ltd
Published: 2025-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The next morning dawned fresh and clear, the rain having washed the dust from the air. I stood with Persi and Florence on the far shore of the lake, watching swallows swooping high above us – always a good sign for the weather. The site of the old mansion looked different in the morning light, less melancholy somehow, though still only bumps in the grass where greatness once stood.

I’d found an Ordnance Survey map of the estate in my library, dating from 1835, and given it to the girls as part of our preparations. Fossett had come early and he rowed backwards and forwards, carrying Greggs and an enormous wicker basket of refreshments Cook had prepared, then a makeshift table and various folding chairs we’d unearthed from the garden and orchard.

Foggy bounded about, nose to the ground, tail wagging at all the activity. Mr Tubbs had deigned to attend too. The portly little cat followed us to the jetty and, before I could stop him, hopped into the boat. He now sat on a fallen log, sooty face wearing that peculiar sphinx-like expression cats adopt when they’re pretending they meant to be exactly where they are.

Swift had gone to Lady Clementine’s straight after our early breakfast to gather the archaeologists. We could hear them coming now – voices carrying across the water as Swift plied the oars.

‘There they are,’ Persi said, shading her eyes. She and Florence had spread the map on the makeshift table – two planks across a pair of trestles – and set the folding chairs around it.

The archaeologists arrived in a chattering group, dressed in their regulation greens, carrying spades, shovels, and an assortment of implements. Swift led them, looking rather grim. Fossett stood to one side watching them all.

Swift gathered them in the shade of a chestnut tree to stand beside the table. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced, ‘we have an Ordnance Survey map of the estate – the earliest we could find.’

‘And you told us last night you have information passed down in your family, Major Lennox,’ Professor Pickford prompted, his white hair gleaming in the dappled light. He was back in breeches and gaiters, sleeves already rolled up.

I stepped forward. ‘If there’s anything to find,’ I said, raising my voice, ‘it will be somewhere here. We know the house was demolished – you can see the remains under the grass.’ I pointed to the lumps and bumps in the turf. ‘Persi and Florence have copied extracts from letters written by Kitty, Lucius Lennox’s wife. She survived him. Her father was William Carter – it’s possible he found the coins and hid them elsewhere when the army came to demolish the house. Family lore insists it would have been nearby, which is why we believe this is the right place to dig.’

I had made up that last part – I didn’t want them trying to dig all over the estate.

‘And we have the letters here,’ Persi said, pulling out several sheets and laying them on the table beside the map.

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