Death at an English Wedding by Sara Rosett

Author:Sara Rosett [Rosett, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sara Rosett
Published: 2017-06-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Hedgely was a twenty-minute drive from Nether Woodsmoor, but the countryside had a wilder and more dramatic feel to it. The hills were higher and the drops to the streams that wound through the landscape were steeper. Rocky outcroppings of limestone thrust out of the hills, creating craggy promontories. The gray clouds sweeping in on gusts of wind added to the feeling that we were driving into a scene from a gothic novel.

“All that’s missing is a castle with crumbling walls,” I said, looking at the darkening sky, “and we’d have the perfect setting to film something like The Mysteries of Udolpho. But we’d also need the woman in a flowing white nightgown, running across the landscape.”

“Goes without saying,” Alex said, and we exchanged a smile, then he checked the rearview mirror, something that he’d been doing quite a bit on the drive.

“Still nothing?” I asked.

“Nope. I guess Quimby thinks we’re not important enough to follow.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“It would be fun to try and lose someone on these twisty roads,” Alex said.

“Well, I’m glad we’re not under police surveillance. It looks like it’s going to rain, and I wouldn’t want to slide off the road into a ditch.”

“Spoilsport,” Alex said in a good-natured tone.

“I do wish I’d brought my camera, though,” I said. “The light is so interesting.” While the darker clouds and their shadows flowed overhead, in the distance the sky was still clear and bright, casting a glow that filtered under the growing cloud cover. I rarely went anywhere without my camera, but both Alex and I had decided to take a break from work during our honeymoon. I had packed my camera in my suitcase, but I only planned to take photos of the canals and palazzos in Venice—pure tourist stuff.

“That’s the turn for Hedgely.” I moved from thinking about the dramatic view to what I’d say to Fern. Cold-calling was nothing new to Alex or me. We’d done a lot of that sort of thing, but it was the least favorite part of my job for me.

“Any ideas on how to approach her?” I asked. Alex’s excellent people instincts made him my go-to guy in situations like this. His easy-going persona disarmed people and, in most cases, they were happily chatting with him in a few minutes.

“I think you’re up this time. I have a feeling she’s off men right now.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, then added, “but we have to find her first. We don’t even know her last name.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Alex said. We rounded a curve in the road, and the village came into view. Tucked into a fold of one of the steep hills, Hedgely consisted of a grocery, a pub with a sign stating that rooms were available, and a smattering of houses.

“No, definitely not,” I said. “In fact, I think that’s her.” As Alex stopped near the pub, I pointed to a figure in a puffy gray coat moving away from the tiny village. As she strode up a narrow footpath on the hill, the wind whipped her dark hair behind her.

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