Tea, Cake & Murder! by K.J. Heritage

Author:K.J. Heritage
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K.J. Heritage

THE mansion is the same as when we left it, boxes strewn everywhere, some open, others stacked into uneven piles. I stride past them into Eriksen’s makeshift office and go over to his desk.

“I say, Em’, don’t you think this is a bit off? Breaking and entering and all that?”

I ignore Ceddars and rummage inside Eriksen’s desk drawers. I find a series of bills and receipts mostly to do with the transport of his collection from overseas, although I do find a letter of recommendation on headed notepaper from The Lady’s Secretarial Agency, based in Hackney, London, regarding Francesca Feltham, signed by a woman called Mrs Hattersley. I fold the letter and place it in one of my pockets.

“Emily!”

“If we can find out who murdered William, don’t you think he would forgive us?”

“Well yes, but—”

“Don’t just stand there, search Fran’s desk.”

“I bally will not!”

I examine a shelf of books and a few open folders containing nothing of interest before rifling through a set of filing cabinets—an inventory of Eriksen’s collection. Afterwards, I go over to Fran’s desk, pushing Ceddars out of the way.

“This is an invasion of her privacy,” he says tersely.

I open Fran’s desk drawers to find them all mostly empty. “Odd. And where is her typewriter?”

“She probably took it home with her. Maybe she wanted to write a letter, or perhaps she’s a mystery writer on the quiet, what? That wouldn’t surprise me in the least, the damn girl is a mystery all on her own.”

“Just what is going on between you two?”

Ceddars shrugs. “You getting jealous?”

“Worried more like. A girl should think twice before becoming involved with a Lothario like you, doctor.”

Ceddars laughs at that and is rather too pleased with himself for my liking.

I pull out some of Fran’s desk drawers to see if anything has dropped behind them, and I’m rewarded by finding an old photograph featuring a young-looking Reverend Wilson-Smallsey standing next to a very attractive woman. Judging by the appearance of the vicar, and the quality of the photograph, it was taken roughly thirty or so years ago. Wilson-Smallsey was a very handsome young man with striking looks and thick, black hair.

“What on earth is that doing in Franny’s desk?” Ceddars asks over my shoulder.

“That’s what we will ask her.”

“We will?”

I nod. “That can wait for now. While we’re here, I think it will be useful to take a poke around Eriksen’s private rooms.”

“The man is barely cold!”

“What’s the phrase, Ceddars? We must strike while the iron is hot.”

“But this is quite, quite heinous behaviour!”

“So is murder. Now stop your blathering and come with me.”

I go back down the corridor that leads to the garden, pleased to hear Ceddars’ footsteps following me. I don’t like being on my own and I find the doctor a reassuring presence. I shiver when I again enter the far room stuffed with antiquities, my eyes darting around, looking for… I’m not sure what. I hurry through, locating a staircase close to the back garden and ascend two steps at a time, arriving at a wide corridor on the top floor.

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