Till Death Do Us Tart (Oxford Tearoom Mysteries ~ Book 4) by H.Y. Hanna

Author:H.Y. Hanna [Hanna, H.Y.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wisheart Press
Published: 2016-07-04T18:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I cycled back from St Cecilia’s, feeling very despondent. This case seemed to be going nowhere and I could see that soon, with Dame Eccleston’s funeral, the chance to catch the killer would be lost forever. Once she was buried, it would be even harder—I’d have to fight to get an exhumation order, never mind a post-mortem.

I sighed impatiently. Oh, why did I care anyway? The woman had been a horrible, obnoxious tyrant and had probably deserved everything she got, if the gossip was to be believed. Why was I so keen to find her killer?

Because justice needs to be done, answered a voice in my head. Regardless of who the victim was and how unpleasant she had been, she did not deserve to be coldly murdered like that. And the killer did not deserve to get away with it. And if I had it within my power to see justice done, then I knew I should do everything I could to make it happen. I couldn’t let it go, just because there were a few hurdles. I had never been a quitter and I didn’t intend to start now.

Besides, I thought wryly, on a purely practical level, if I don’t do something about it, my mother and the Old Biddies probably will. I shuddered to think what they would come up with next in their bid to investigate the case.

I arrived at the tearoom to discover that my fears were well justified. It was still half an hour until we officially opened but, as I cycled up outside the tearoom, I could see through the large front window pane that there was a group of people huddled over a table by the window. I parked my bike in the adjoining courtyard, which used to serve the stables that gave the Little Stables Tearoom its name, and hurried inside through the back door. Cassie and Dora were in the kitchen, getting a few things ready, but I barely called a greeting as I whisked past and out to the dining room. There, I found my mother and the Old Biddies talking excitedly to each other.

“Mother?” I said, going up to them. “What are you doing here? I didn’t realise you were coming to the tearoom.”

“Oh, I’m on my way to the garden centre to see about that sale,” my mother said. “I thought I’d pop in, seeing as I was passing by, and have a little chat with Mabel and the others—” She looked around furtively and lowered her voice in a dramatic fashion, even though there was no one else in the tearoom. “—about The Case.”

“Gemma, did Inspector O’Connor say anything to you last night?” asked Glenda eagerly. “Are the police going to start a murder investigation?”

“No,” I said, trying to hide my frustration. “Devlin says there isn’t enough evidence to justify—”

“Codswallop!” declared Mabel. “Young people today think they know everything. You tell your Inspector O’Connor that I was already a grandmother when he was still in nappies. In fact, I could have been changing his nappies.

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