Villainy at the Village Store: A completely gripping cozy mystery set in an English village (Coombesford Chronicles Book 2) by Elizabeth Ducie

Author:Elizabeth Ducie [Ducie, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chudleigh Phoenix Publications
Published: 2022-10-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

“Esther, are you there? It’s Annie. Can I come in?”

“Sure, Annie, come on in. I’m in the kitchen.” The voice was clear and bright. Annie guessed it was one of Esther Steele’s good days.

She walked down the passageway into what had become one of her favourite rooms in the whole of Coombesford village. Esther, her straight white blonde hair held back from her face with an old-fashioned Alice band, was standing at the vast oak table, the centrepiece of the kitchen. The centrepiece, in fact, of the whole farmhouse, Annie suspected. She was rolling pastry and, as she pushed her fringe out of her eyes with the back of her hand, she left a smudge of flour on her nose. Her smile was huge, welcoming, and genuine. Annie always felt at home when she came to visit this place and especially this woman.

“Annie, how wonderful to see you. Give me a minute to get these in the oven and I’ll put the kettle on.”

“No hurry, Esther. It’s been hectic over the past couple of days. I’m happy just to sit and watch you create for a few minutes.”

Her host’s face clouded over and she sighed.

“Yes, one of the farmhands told me. Poor Pauline. She must be frantic, waiting to hear what’s going to happen.”

“She’s holding up okay, actually. The service and the wake went as well as she could have hoped; and she’s planning a very simple committal service when the police finally release the site.”

“That’s good to hear. I haven’t seen her for ages, since she started caring for her mum, in fact. But we used to be quite close. We were at primary school together, you know. And after the accident, she used to come and visit me here at the farm.” Esther walked across to the Aga and popped a tray of delicate apple tarts in the oven. “There, they won’t take long and we can have one with our tea in a little while.” She wiped her hands on a tea towel and began filling the kettle.

While the kettle gently hissed on the top of the Aga, Esther took one of the large rocking chairs beside the open fireplace and gestured for Annie to take the other. The chairs were a riot of colour with hand-stitched patchwork cushions, into which the two women sank with sighs of delight. At this time of year the fire was never lit, and the cradle was full, not with burning logs, but with piles of sweet-smelling pine cones. A huge vase of dahlias and chrysanths stood on the hearth.

“Okay, Annie, what brings you here this morning?” asked Esther. “Not that you need a reason to stop by, my friend, but I know how busy you usually are in the mornings.”

“I wanted to see how you were getting on with Suzy’s picture. And I needed some more eggs, so I thought I’d pop in rather than just picking up the phone.”

“Well, the picture’s coming along nicely. I should have something to show you early next week.

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