On The Stroke of Death

Chapter One

Reverend Alina Merrycott stood in the bookshop, running her eyes over the brightly coloured spines, her fingers tracing the smooth wooden shelves. She realised with disappointment that she’d read them all. During a recent encounter with her favourite author, Abbi Farrow, she’d learnt that there would be a new mystery out very soon, and she was hoping that “very soon” was now. She turned to ask Jules who owned the Eastwold Bookshop.

‘Jules, have you got the new Judy Jacobs mystery?’

‘Remind me who that’s written by?’ Jules looked up from the cash register and pushed her black-rimmed glasses up her nose.

‘Abbi Farrow.’

‘Give me a moment. I’ll have to check my new stock.’

Alina scanned the other books on the shelves. She was going to have to find a new mystery writer to read. Despite having two jobs: as a part-time vicar and district nurse, she always made time to escape into her beloved mystery books. Choosing a new one was always so difficult, however. Plunging her hands into her coat pocket, she pursed her lips, wondering which author to try next. Jules always kept a good choice in the bookshop, but Alina had become very attached to Judy Jacobs and her madcap ways.

She jumped as the shop door flew open, crashing into the wall, making all the flyers and notices flutter wildly. With a long scarf wrapped around her neck and tweedy hat jammed on her head, Linda Cranford stood on the doormat. She was panting and waving her gloved hands at her red face. ‘You’ll never believe what’s just happened,’ she huffed. ‘I’ve met him at last.’

‘Him?’ Jules reappeared from the back room where she kept her records. She glowered at the open door. ‘Who is him?’

‘Travis Brooke, of course.’

Alina and Jules stared at each other. Jules raised her shoulders a fraction. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘He’s the new owner of Fairview Hall,’ said Linda. ‘He’s renovating it. He’s got great plans.’

‘That’s nice,’ Alina said. Fairview Hall was a large Georgian mansion on the outskirts of Eastwold. It had lain empty since the death of the local squire some five years earlier, and Eastwold residents had despaired that anyone would take it on. The renovation work needed would require incredibly deep pockets. ‘I’ll go and pay a visit before the weekend. Do you think he’s a churchgoer?’

Linda shook her head, still panting. ‘No, I shouldn’t think so. He has a dangerously sexy vibe. He put me in mind of a vampire,’ she said, stepping into the shop and finally shutting the door behind her. ‘He’s unbelievably handsome.’ She shut her eyes and fanned her face some more.

Alina smiled. Linda had been getting worse since her husband Nick had left. Seemingly unable to cope on her own, she was now on the hunt for a replacement. Closing her eyes, Alina whispered a short prayer that Linda would not make a fool of herself again. The literary and crime writing festivals had provided Linda with a wide hunting ground—but to no avail. ‘Where did you meet him?’ she said.

‘In the garden centre, he was getting some plants for the kitchen garden, he’s going to resurrect it. I told him what to buy and what grows best hereabouts.’

Alina nodded. The high walls around the old hall’s garden would protect most plants, but even so, the proximity of the sea could damage some sensitive plants. ‘I’m sure he appreciated your help, Linda.’ Turning to Jules, she said, ‘Any luck?’

Jules shook her head. ‘I did order it, but it’s not arrived yet. Perhaps next week? I’ll chase the suppliers.’

‘Could you? That would be great, thanks. I’m not sure what to read in the meantime—’ Alina turned back to the shelves, and Jules stood alongside her, making recommendations. Eventually, Alina found one that sounded about right. She paid for the novel and strolled to the front door. Linda was waiting for her.

‘I haven’t told you the best bit yet,’ she said.

‘Go on, what’s the best bit?’ said Alina, slipping the book into her bag.

‘He didn’t refuse to hold the Halloween Ball at the hall,’ declared Linda triumphantly.

‘That’s not the same as agreeing to hold it. Will the work he’s doing on the hall be finished in time? We haven’t got long to go.’ Alina dipped her head, rolling her eyes under closed lids. Linda meant well, of course, but as a member of the clergy, Alina wasn’t a huge fan of Halloween, even though the money raised supported numerous charitable works, including raising funds for repairs to the church roof.

‘Well, we can’t hold another event at the golf club, can we?’ Linda said. ‘Not after last time.’

‘That’s true enough,’ Alina replied. ‘I don’t suppose anyone will want to go to another ball at the club anytime soon.’ She shivered as the memories flooded into her head of Kitty Blenkinsop slipping to the floor after being poisoned.

‘That’s what I thought, and so when I saw him, I decided to put the idea in his head. I’ll give him a few days and take him one of my Victoria sandwiches and persuade him some more. No one can refuse my cakes.’ Linda grinned broadly.

‘Thank you, Linda. Can you just let the rest of the committee know what you’re planning. We don’t want anyone’s noses out of joint, do we? Don’t forget what happened last time.’ Alina made a mental note to pay a call on the people who’d bought Kitty’s cottage. Hopefully, they weren’t the busybody type.

‘Of course, Vicar. I’d never do anything like that. Leave it all to me.’ Linda dashed away, looking for all the world as if she were skipping.

Alina trudged her way back to Lighthouse Cottage, where she was greeted by Thalia, her seal point Siamese cat. She placed her new book on the table by her comfortable sofa and wandered into the kitchen. Shaking the kettle to see how much water it contained, she added more and pulled a brightly painted mug off the Welsh dresser. Automatically, she placed a teabag in the mug and waited for the kettle to boil. She made her tea and leaving the mug on the side, she ambled to the fridge to collect the milk. She stood for a while, staring out into the courtyard garden, wondering what it would be like to have gardens as large as those at Fairview Hall to tend. An awful amount of work, she decided. Far too much for one person. Just beyond the courtyard section lay a fence, and Alina grew a few vegetables in the raised beds she’d set up there. It was a new venture, something she’d not been able to do in London, and it had not been an auspicious start.

Perhaps I should ask Linda Cranford for some advice? She shook her head, there were any number of people who would be happy to advise her. She and Linda Cranford had never been close friends. Only that spring Linda had spread rumours that Alina was responsible for Kitty Blenkinsop’s death. Life had become rather difficult as she’d battled to prove her innocence to the delectable DI Richard Laidlaw. For a moment, she allowed her mind to wander—to think about deep brown eyes and the hint of silver on his temples. Her mobile remained silent, however. No text. So clearly, he wasn’t thinking about her.

With a huge sigh, Alina gathered her mug and wandered into the sitting room. It was time to call the bishop and discuss with him the forthcoming Halloween celebrations. She dialled the number and sat while she waited for his Grace’s secretary to connect her.

‘Yes, your Grace. I’m sure it warrants more discussion than a quick phone call.’ Alina grabbed her diary, and listened to the dates the bishop offered.

‘Very good, your Grace. Yes, Thursday will be fine.’ Alina replaced the handset and stroked Thalia’s silky head. She looked at her mobile. Still nothing from Richard, but she chose to text him to say she’d be in Ipswich on Thursday. ‘I have been summoned to meet Bishop Michael at the Diocesan Office in Ipswich. Hopefully, I can make the most of the trip,’ she said to the cat.

Thalia wasn’t concerned or even slightly sympathetic, she simply curled up on Alina’s lap and purred.