A fatal feast at bramsfo.., p.12
A Fatal Feast at Bramsford Manor, page 12
“Where did you hear that?” The girl looked suspicious.
Bunny, thinking how nice it would be to be invited back into the kitchen, wanted to protect her source. She simply said, “Someone overheard you talking with another server. By the way, how many people did you mention this to?”
Bunny could sense that she’d gotten under the girl’s skin. It was only because Brett had gotten under hers. She inwardly chided herself for letting that happen. However, if she was ever to get to the truth regarding the murder of Marcus Bean, she was going to have to appear trustworthy. That shouldn’t be hard for a friendly, sweet-natured person like her, should it? For heaven’s sake, that was her brand! Bunny then cast a covert glance at hunky Brett before shifting her gaze to the youthful waitress—wholesome, round-cheeked complexion and all. She then revealed her most trustworthy, television smile. “Let me rephrase that, m’dear. If you did happen to overhear something interesting, and you happened to mention this interesting tidbit, who might you have mentioned it to?”
Betsy seemed more at ease under this kinder smile and paused to think. With a carefree shrug, she offered, “I told my mate, Lewis.”
“When you say mate, does that mean you’re dating?” Brett asked. Betsy blushed.
“Friend. Lewis is my friend. He works with me.”
“Let’s back up a minute,” Brett said. “Explain how you overheard this information in the first place?”
“Marcus and I were friends of a sort,” she told him. “He liked to sit in my section and talk with me. Sometimes he’d tell me things about Bramsford’s history. He was really into history. Other times we’d talk about news or the movies we’d just seen.”
“Did you ever see a movie together?” Bunny inquired, trying her hardest to appear merely friendly and not accusatory. Obviously, it was a hard nuance to capture.
“What are you insinuating?” Betsy snapped at her. “Marcus was in his late forties. I’m twenty-one. That’s gross!” She glared at Bunny before bringing her attention back to Brett.
“You wanted to know how I overheard him talking about this big reveal?” Brett nodded. “Mr. Bean was taking his three o’clock tea as usual. He also had the London Times with him, which was also his habit. I brought him his usual turkey sandwich and biscuits and was just about to pour his tea when I asked him about the ghost hunt that he couldn’t stop talking about. He told me a little bit about what you guys do and what you had planned to do at Bramsford. I thought it was pretty cool. I’m not a fan of ghosts but I have a healthy respect for them. Marcus was really excited about your visit. Then his phone rang. I don’t know who was on the other end, but it seemed important, so I topped off his tea and set the pot on the table. I was just about to walk away when I heard him say that he had stumbled upon something big, something groundbreaking that he wasn’t going to mention to anyone until the cameras were rolling. It was going to be a bombshell.”
“Whoa,” Bunny breathed. “And you didn’t hear anything else?”
“Nope. I wasn’t even supposed to hear that much, I’m sure. And I certainly didn’t want to ask him about it either. Digby would have my job for that. But . . . but I thought it was interesting.” At the thought, moisture began to form in Betsy’s eyes. “We’re not supposed to eavesdrop, and I’m certain that I shouldn’t have said anything about it either. I didn’t think there was any harm in telling a friend. Lewis was fond of Marcus as well. Marcus was always kind to us. Always.” Her bottom lip began to quiver. “He had a secret, and . . . and I think it got him killed. I . . . might be partly to blame. I didn’t mean for anyone to hear us talking, but Rodger did. He’s a good man, and always jokes with us. We were standing in the kitchen when I told Lewis, and Rodger walked in with a tray of pork chops. He raised his eyebrows at us and went on cooking. I should have known. Once one person knows, word gets around.”
Bunny could see that the thought was distressing to the young woman and was likely the reason she’d been crying in the first place when they found her. She had misjudged Betsy and was feeling guilty about it. Besides, as she well knew, grief from loss was the hardest emotion to come to terms with. Bunny was about to console her when Brett beat her to it.
“Betsy, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Marcus Bean. However, if it was groundbreaking information that was going to be revealed during our ghost hunt, I’d love to know what it was.”
“That’s what’s eating me up, Brett! I knew it was big news. A secret reveal is exciting. That’s why I might have mentioned it to Morgan as well, to see if she knew what it was about. If I would have known it would get him killed, I would have kept my big mouth shut!” She then burst into a fit of tears. Bunny was ashamed to think that she was happy to learn that Betsy Copperfield ugly-cried. It was so unsettling that the stoic Brett Bloom slowly backed into the apple grove.
It’s okay,” Bunny assured the girl. “It’s not your fault, Betsy. But I am curious. Why Morgan?”
Betsy hiccoughed and tried to catch her breath. “Because . . . she and Marcus were friends too. But I don’t think she knew about Marcus’s big reveal.”
“Thank you for talking with us,” Bunny told the girl, sincerely. “You’ve been a great help, and I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
“Tha . . . thank you, Ms. MacBride. Bu . . . but how did I help when I might have gotten him killed?” Bless her, she looked confused.
Offering her kindest smile, Bunny explained, “Because you didn’t know what Marcus Bean had stumbled across. The person who murdered him did. The fact that Rodger overheard you talking about it was a lucky stroke for us. We might not know what the information was, who knew about it, or who had the most to lose by it, but it gives us a possible motive.”
Betsy sniffled and wiped her tears away again. “What can you do about it now?”
“Find the information he’d stumbled upon in the first place. If it was found once, it can be found again.”
Chapter 18
“I’m sorry, but crying unsettles me,” Brett explained the moment Bunny caught up with him in the orchard. Truthfully, he hadn’t gone far, but he also hadn’t been willing to return and face the tears. “It makes me feel helpless,” he explained, marching posthaste along the rows of apple trees toward the ancient archway. “Especially when a girl is crying. It makes me feel as if I’ve done something wrong.”
“Do you have a habit of making girls cry?” With his fine looks Bunny imagined he left a wake of tears wherever he went.
He looked at her, offering, “I made my mom cry when I told her that I was going to hunt ghosts for a living. She cried over that one for a couple of days. That was hard to deal with.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, running a little to catch up with his long strides.
“When I was younger, I made my sister cry all the time, but that was for fun. I don’t mind her tears . . . unless they’re real,” he clarified.
“And what about girlfriends?” Bunny probed as they walked under the archway, landing in the garden once again. “Do you make them cry as well?”
Brett stopped walking and looked at her. “I don’t mean to. But now that I think about it, every relationship I’ve had usually ends in tears. Of course, that comes after the door slamming and the insults.” He looked at his feet a moment before glancing up at her through thick, dark eyelashes. “I’m probably not the easiest guy to understand.”
It was delivered with such sincerity that her heart skipped a beat. She covered it gracefully with a wave of her hand. “Oh posh! I find all men in general to be confounding. You’re in good company, Brett Bloom.” That made him grin. “Now, regarding tears, I’m not a fan either, but I can handle them. For instance, in Betsy’s case they were incredibly productive. While the poor girl suffered loss and a real feeling of guilt, she has just confirmed for us that Marcus Bean stumbled on an explosive bit of information that might possibly have gotten him killed. I can’t think of any other reason to stab him in the heart with a stolen knife, can you?”
With hands on hips and eyebrows furrowed at her, he said, “Unfortunately, I can. We just discussed it. Remember? Insults, slamming doors, followed by bouts of hideous crying? Love, Bunny. Love can drive people to madness.”
“Are you saying that there are two possible motives for murder here?”
“At least,” he replied. “And the reason I brought up love in the first place is because I don’t believe her. I don’t believe that Betsy and Marcus were merely friends. She’s lying about their relationship, but I can’t say with certainty why that is, just yet.”
“You think they were lovers? You think they were embroiled in a tawdry winter-spring romance? She said the notion was gross.” As she offered this, she could see that he was battling a grin. Why did that irk her?
Brett shrugged. “I can’t say. I just don’t believe her.”
Bunny placed her hands on her hips as well. “What, are you an expert on women’s body language now?”
“Obviously not or I wouldn’t make them cry so often. All I’m saying is that I have a hunch, and you of all people should respect that.”
She hadn’t expected him to go for the jugular, but he had. “Touché, Bloom.”
* * *
They found the rest of their party ensconced in Bramsford’s stunning, wood paneled, historic library, a room that immediately captured Bunny’s imagination. She had briefly seen this room when they had first arrived, but hadn’t given it much thought, due to the fact that she was in a haunted manor and had a stellar meal to prepare. Also, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember where it was located. It was as far from the kitchen as one could get, being tucked away at the end of the west wing of the manor. Thankfully, Brett had a much deeper knowledge of the house than she had. It was Peter Billingsley who told them to check the library in the first place. The moment Bunny entered the two-story room with a spiral staircase and three arched windows that spanned both stories, she felt like Belle from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. And just like Belle, she pondered the fact that this stunning library, filled to the gills with old books from every era, might just make up for the fact that this castle also housed a beast along with a handful of ghosts. Then, just as that thought worked its way through her imagination, she turned around and saw an image that jarred her back to reality.
“Grandma! What are you doing sitting on the floor like that . . . and with Giff?”
It was so odd she did a double take. Sure enough, Ella MacBride was sitting cross-legged on the worn yet beautiful Turkish carpet opposite Giff, who was sitting in the same pose. Their knees were touching, and Ella was murmuring to him while tapping his forehead with her finger.
“Hello, luv.” Granny Mac opened her eyes and smiled beatifically at her granddaughter. “Giff was very upset at the possibility that you might be a medium, so I thought I’d try to help him open up his own third eye and give it a go.”
“It’s true,” came a voice from over the middle seating area. Illuminated from the light of the third arched window, Bunny could see Mike Miller, who looked to be reading a very old book on witches. Ed was also reading a book, while Cody appeared to be waking from a nap.
“Your grandma thinks Giff is a sensitive,” Ed remarked with a wink.
“He’s sensitive, alright,” Mike added. “Had a bit of a meltdown after you two left us.”
“Hey,” Giff snapped at him, “I’m working here. It takes great concentration to open one’s third eye. Bunny,” he continued, shifting his focus to her, “your grandma is a gem. Not only has she assured me that love is on the horizon, but she also believes that I have hidden talent that needs to be coaxed out of me. We’re in the process of coaxing, aren’t we, Ella?”
“We’re trying to meditate and tap into the fourth dimension,” she clarified.
Ed closed his book. “Whatever talent Giff has is so deep down there that it’s either going to take a miracle, or a handsy ghost encounter to spook it out of him.”
Even Giff laughed at this. “That may be, but I have to earn my keep somehow, now that Bunny can both cook and connect to spirits.”
“Look,” Bunny addressed him, “I’m happy for you, Giff. I hope it works. As for me, I don’t know what I have, and I certainly can’t control it. I prefer the kitchen to ghostly white rabbits. Rest assured, I’m not about to usurp your place on the show. You were doing just fine up until we found that body.”
“I’m working with you next, dear,” Granny Mac informed her. “For whatever reason, you were led to discover a body in a historic chest that once housed a spirit who still lingers here. There are so many layers to this mystery that we need to peel them back one at a time to fully understand what’s going on here and why. Don’t go anywhere.”
Bunny exchanged a look with Brett, before continuing. “About that body. Brett and I have been poking around in the world of the living, asking important questions. We think we know why Marcus Bean was murdered.”
Bunny had everyone’s attention, including Giff’s. “What have you discovered?”
“It’s been confirmed that Marcus Bean uncovered some piece of explosive evidence that he was planning to reveal to the cameras during the ghost hunt. Obviously, someone found out before he had the chance.”
“Who do you think it was?” Giff asked.
“It could be anyone in the manor,” Brett informed them. “While there might be other motives regarding Bean’s murder, we feel that this particular motive might be the strongest. The only trouble is we don’t know what information Bean stumbled upon, or who would want him silenced.”
“There are two main things to consider regarding this murder,” Bunny told them. “The first is that the murderer took my boning knife from the kitchen, either when it was closed or when no one was looking. The second thing to consider is that it was Betsy Copperfield, the server, who overheard Marcus Bean on the phone discussing this big discovery he was going to reveal during the ghost hunt. Regarding my knife, five people have keys to the kitchen: Lilly Plum; Sir Charles; his sister, Morgan; Callum Digby; and Peter Billingsley. Any one of them could have snuck in there after hours to steal it from my knife kit. Regarding this rumor about Marcus’s big reveal, Betsy told two people, Morgan and a server named Lewis. Betsy and Lewis were overheard in the kitchen by a sous chef named Rodger, who immediately told Lilly. Betsy feels that Lilly, a known lover of gossip, might have spread the news even wider.”
“Well, there are your suspects,” Cody said. “It has to be either Lilly, Morgan, Rodger, this Lewis person, or, and I hate to add her to this list, but I feel I have to, Betsy. All of them were told about Marcus’s big reveal, and all of them had access to the kitchen.”
“Well done, Veronica Mars,” Giff said, golf-clapping for him. “Pointing out the obvious connection. However, if television detectives taught me anything it’s that it’s never that simple.”
“I think Giff is correct,” Brett offered. “Bunny has already questioned Lilly. And both of us talked with Betsy. However, think about the historian and his job. If there was some piece of information uncovered that could be damaging to the history of Bramsford Manor, who has the most to lose?”
Giff raised his hand pretending he was in class. “Ooh! Ooh! I know this. It’s Sir Charles Wallingford, or his sister, Morgan. But mostly Sir Charles. I’ll tell you what. Since my third eye has been exercised by a true professional, I volunteer to throw myself on my sword—to boldly walk into the viper’s nest. In other words, I volunteer to interrogate the man.”
“I thought you might,” Brett said with a wry grin. “That’s very noble of you, but Bunny and I are going with you.”
“I think that’s wise,” Granny Mac said. Bunny noted that the woman’s carefree demeanor had shifted, and that her gran was now looking into that other place as she spoke. “There is evil lurking within these walls, and it’s not on the other side. It’s here, with the living. It’s shifty. It’s sly. It’s clever. And it is also capable of great harm. You three must stay together, as we will stay together,” she said, gesturing to the three men lounging in the comfy library chairs. “There is safety in numbers.”
Brett stared at the older woman and asked, “Who is capable of great evil? Who is responsible for Marcus Bean’s murder? Do you have a name?”
Granny Mac shook her head. “That I cannot tell you. However, we might be able to glean some answers we seek from those on the other side.”
Chapter 19
“Do you think she can really do it? Probe for answers on the other side?” Giff looked intrigued. It was then Bunny recalled that he had never encountered a spirit before. If he had she was certain the look on his face would be more pensive and fearful, like the look on Brett’s face.
“I doubt it,” she told him as they marched down the echoing hallway toward the long gallery. “It’s not that easy. If it was, every psychic would be doing it.”
“But she has the second sight,” Giff protested.
“That may be,” Bunny admitted. “But we’re investigating a murder. I doubt that the lingering spirits haunting this manor give a fig for what occurred here last night. Doubt they were even paying attention.”
“She’s right,” Brett said, casting Bunny a nod. “Not the part about them paying attention, but we really don’t know what type of haunting we’re dealing with to begin with. It could be a residual haunting, or an intelligent one.”
Giff stopped walking and stared at him. “What? Are you telling me there’s more than one type of ghost?” He looked gobsmacked by the notion. Brett looked merely serious.
“Yes. Did you not read the source material I sent you? Have you even watched an episode of Ghost Guys?” The answer was clear on Giff’s face. Apparently, he had not done either of those things.
“Forgive me for being too busy researching mediumship and creating a viable social media presence to read that packet you sent me. We’re here to connect with ghosts. I assumed they were all the same.”
