Death on Dartmoor Edge (eBook)

The page-turning cozy crime series

Stephanie Austin (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Auflage
384 Seiten
Allison & Busby (Verlag)
978-0-7490-3123-7 (ISBN)

Infos

Juno Browne, self-proclaimed Domestic Goddess who can turn her hand to cleaning, dog walking or home help jobs, is feeling overworked and underpaid. Her elderly client, Maisie is demanding more of her time and staff absences at the Ashburton antiques shop she also owns are making business difficult. She is not the only one with problems, very serious problems however. Her friend Elizabeth is being blackmailed, and dear Ricky's errant nephew is on the run from criminals in London. Juno's attempts to help take her from an isolated manor house on Dartmoor to London's glittering theatreland. Can she avoid being fatally entangled in threads of deceit and murder?

Stephanie Austin has enjoyed a varied career, working as an artist and an antiques trader, but also for the Devon Schools Library Service. When not writing she is actively involved in amateur theatre as a director and actor, and attempts to be a competent gardener and cook. She lives in Devon.

Textauszug

CHAPTER TWO

When I got back to Old Nick’s, about an hour and a half after I’d locked it up, the shop seemed to have magically re-opened itself. The lights were on and the sign on the door was turned to Open. My first thought was that Pat had finished with her waifs and strays and come in after all, or, perish the thought, that Sophie had come back because she’d missed her bus. But as I let myself in, there was no sign of either of them. The place seemed deserted. I was just about to call out when a voice from the back room stopped me.

‘What exactly is it that you want?’ It was Elizabeth’s voice, precise as always, beautifully articulated, and at this moment, sounding quietly furious. It stopped me in my tracks.

‘Well, Mrs Hunter …’ the other voice belonged to Colin, the man who had been asking for her. ‘Or may I call you Elizabeth?’

‘You most certainly may not,’ came the clipped reply.

‘Oh?’ he sounded surprised. ‘I thought you might prefer it to being called Mrs Hunter around here.’

‘Get to the point.’

‘You must understand my dilemma, Mrs Hunter,’ he went on, ‘what with the rise in the cost of living and everything …’

‘I understand you’re after money.’

‘Well, the two gentlemen who came to Moorland View enquiring after your whereabouts are most certainly after money, aren’t they? Quite a lot of it, from what I can gather. They’re offering me a very generous sum to discover those whereabouts, Mrs Hunter. And in order not to reveal the fact that I already know where you are, I feel a little renumeration is in order.’

‘This is blackmail.’

‘Nasty word, Mrs Hunter.’ Colin seemed determined to use her name with every breath. ‘After all, I’m only a humble care assistant, I don’t get paid much. And I would have thought, a mere half of what these gentlemen are offering me in order for me to stay silent, would be perfectly fair in the circumstances.’

I crept a few steps nearer to the door into the corridor and peered cautiously around the frame. I could see Colin in the back room, where I display my antiques and collectibles, standing in front of a pine dresser. I could see only the back of Elizabeth, her silver-blonde hair, as always, swept up into an immaculate chignon, her white blouse pressed.

‘What if I go straight to the police?’ she demanded.

I saw Colin smile. ‘What if you do, Mrs Hunter? I should think very carefully about the consequences of doing that if I were you. Living under an assumed name, sharing a house with a minor. What will the police think of that? And teenage boys are so vulnerable, aren’t they? Emotionally I mean. And I understand young Oliver is about to take his exams …’

‘You come anywhere near Olly and I will kill you,’ she promised in a fierce undertone. Colin laughed. He wouldn’t be laughing if he knew as much about Elizabeth as I did.

‘If you’re going to make threats,’ he retorted, ‘then you might like to consider Joan’s welfare. After all, some nights I’m the only care staff on duty at Moorland View. And I can’t be everywhere at once.’

‘Get out!’ Elizabeth came towards him, stepping into my line of sight. She picked up a native African club that was lying on a nearby table. It was made from ironwood and a blow on the head would certainly prove fatal. But Colin just laughed. Perhaps it was the price label tied around its neck that struck him as comical. He pointed at it as he backed away. Then he glanced in my direction and his smile vanished.

‘It seems we have an eavesdropper present, Mrs Hunter.’

‘You have a witness,’ I told him, walking down the corridor towards him. I glanced at Elizabeth. She was white-faced, her steely grey eyes blazing with fury, her mouth frozen in a tight line. ‘This is my shop,’ I told Colin. ‘And I want you out of it, right now.’ I stood aside to let him pass. ‘Go on, get out.’

He looked me up and down. ‘The famous Juno Browne,’ he gave a mocking chuckle. ‘No doubt about who you are, is there?’

I could feel my gorge rise as the odious little man passed close by me. He stank of cheap aftershave. ‘I’ll give you a little time to think about things, Mrs Hunter,’ he added generously. ‘I’m sure this has come as a bit of a shock.’

I didn’t look at him again as he let himself out. My eyes were on Elizabeth. We heard the bell jangle as he closed the door. She dropped the club with a groan and collapsed into the nearest chair. She was trembling, but with rage, not fear.

‘Elizabeth, what on earth … ?’

‘I knew they’d catch up with me one day.’ She gazed up at me and her usual steely resolve had left her eyes. She looked as if she were staring down the barrel of a gun. ‘Juno,’ she breathed in a long sigh. ‘I think it’s time I told you the truth.’

I closed the shop. This was more important. Elizabeth and I went upstairs to Old Nick’s kitchen where I made us a cup of tea. We would both have preferred something stronger but I don’t keep spirits on the premises.

‘You remember when we first met?’ she began.

‘Of course.’ After the death of her husband, George, who turned out to have been a secret gambler, Elizabeth had left her old life behind, surrendered the keys of her much-mortgaged house to the bank and gone on the road to escape his loan sharks. When I met her, she’d been living in her car with her cat. She’d also been carrying a pistol in her handbag.

‘I didn’t tell you the whole truth,’ she went on, meeting my gaze squarely. ‘I told you I had no particular reason for coming here, to this part of Devon.’

I nodded. ‘You said you just liked the area.’

‘I lied. I did have a reason for wanting to be here.’ She paused a moment. ‘I have a sister, Joan, living in a care home in Bovey Tracey. She and her husband retired there some time ago, but shortly after they moved, he was diagnosed with cancer and he didn’t live out the year. They had no children. Joan used to be very active, very fit, swam at her local spa every morning. About seven years ago, while she was alone in the pool, she suffered a stroke. It was some time, perhaps half an hour, before anyone realised what had happened to her. By that time, a lot of damage had been done. Now Joan cannot walk or speak and doesn’t know who I am.’

‘That’s terrible.’ Words, as always, seemed inadequate. ‘I’m so sorry.’

She smiled sadly. ‘I’ve been visiting her at Moorland View for years. So, when I was forced to leave my home, I came to this area so that I could be close enough to still visit, but not so close that anyone could trace me through her. Of course, by this time, the staff already knew me by my married name, Hunter.’

I could see why she’d been attracted to Ashburton. Just a few miles from Bovey Tracey, she could visit her sister easily, but still retain distance, anonymity.

‘I thought I’d got away with it,’ she went on dryly, ‘until today. It seems that some of the people George owed money to aren’t prepared to let it go so easily.’

‘And they’ve managed to track you to your sister’s care home?’

‘It seems so.’

‘Do you know how?’

She gave a helpless shrug. ‘I suppose if they came up with some plausible reason for making enquiries, they might have learnt something from our old neighbours, from people who lived in the street where George and I lived. They all knew Joan and what had happened to her, long before I disappeared. I believe one of them still sends her a Christmas card.’

I have never heard Elizabeth complain, but leaving all her friends behind, slamming the door on the life she had known, must have been hard. ‘Anyway, whoever these two are, they’ve traced her to Moorland View and have been there enquiring about me, according to Colin. And they’ve offered him money if he can tell them where I am, so he’s made it his business to find out.’

‘Does anyone else there know where you live, apart from Colin?’

‘The home has my mobile number of course, in case they need to contact me in an emergency, but they don’t have an address. In any case, Mrs MacDonald, who runs the place, would never give out personal information of any kind. I’m certain I can rely on her discretion.’

‘So, how did Colin find out where you are?’

‘I can only assume he must have followed me back to Olly’s house. He seems to be well-informed. He must have been snooping around Ashburton, asking...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 19.9.2024
• Reihe/Serie: Devon Mysteries
• Reihe/Serie: Devon Mysteries
• Verlagsort: London
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror ► Krimi / Thriller
• Schlagworte: Cosy Crime • countryside • Cozy Crime • criminals • Dartmoor • Devon • Juno Browne • London • Murder • organised crime • Rural • Stephanie Austin
• ISBN-10: 0-7490-3123-9 / 0749031239
• ISBN-13: 978-0-7490-3123-7 / 9780749031237