A date to die for, p.1
A Date to Die For, page 1
A DATE TO DIE FOR
A HOPGOOD HALL MYSTERY
E.V. HUNTER
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
More from E.V. Hunter
About the Author
Poison & Pens
About Boldwood Books
PROLOGUE
‘Don’t even think about pulling the rug now. You’re in too deep.’
‘I don’t respond well to threats,’ he snarled.
‘This is no threat, and we both know it.’ She jerked at the sound of a fox barking. Typical townie, he thought. ‘You owe me.’
‘And I’ve paid.’
‘Not nearly enough.’
She smirked, fully aware that she held the upper hand, and something inside of him snapped. A red mist of anger caused spots to dance before his eyes, blurring his vision. Without conscious thought for the consequences, he reached for her and grabbed her by the throat. She fought him with everything she had, pummelling his chest with her fists and desperately trying to kick out as he ruthlessly crushed her windpipe. He watched dispassionately as her face contorted and his anger slowly abated.
A rational corner of his brain warned him to stop. He was no murderer. It wasn’t as if she could report the attack without drawing attention to her own nefarious activities. Oh yes, he knew what she used to be, and sometimes still was. What would that scandalous snippet of gossip do for her fledging business in a village this size? Why hadn’t he thought of that before? There was no need to kill her. He could simply fight fire with fire.
He released his hold on her neck and she fell forward, chest heaving, wheezing and coughing, hands resting on her bent knees.
‘You bastard!’
She recovered faster than he’d expected and launched herself at him. He instinctively put out a hand to ward her off, shoving her backwards with considerable force. She fell with a sickening thud and cried out as her head struck the ground. There was blood. Too much blood. She groaned, then stopped moving. He felt for a pulse and didn’t find one.
That’s what happened when you went soft, he reflected. He’d been willing to let her live but she’d brought her fate on herself. His thoughts now turned to survival. He couldn’t leave her here but had plenty of time to cover his tracks. There was no need to panic.
Calm and methodical, he threw her over his shoulder. Strapped to the back of his quad bike, she lolled like a rag doll. He rode to a more isolated spot and dug a shallow grave. Then, once the body was wrapped in an old blanket, he tossed it unceremoniously into its final resting place, glad to be rid of the threat she posed once and for all. He filled the earth back in, sweating from his efforts, and scattered leaves and branches over the disturbed soil.
‘Rest in peace,’ he said sardonically, before remounting his bike and returning home to a stiff drink and a warm bed.
1
Alexi’s heels echoed on the boarded floor of her loft as she made a final check for rogue possessions. The space felt devoid of character as it awaited someone else’s imprint. Outside, a spring drizzle turned London monochrome, reflecting her own grey mood. She looked at her reflection, ghosted in the picture window against a backdrop of rain. She shuddered at the defiant image that glared back at her and turned away. At the flat’s front door, she paused to say mental goodbyes to her old life.
‘Okay, Cosmo, let’s hit the road.’
Her black cat rubbed his head against her calf and stalked through the door ahead of her.
In the underground car park, Alexi stowed her case in the boot of her Mini and placed her computer bag behind the passenger seat, into which Cosmo had already installed himself. Alexi pulled the seatbelt across and fastened his leash to it. The police could be funny about unrestrained pets in vehicles, unenlightened as they were when it came to Cosmo’s idiosyncrasies. There were cats, and then there was Cosmo, whose oddities she was still getting to grips with herself, and the last thing she needed was an altercation with the law.
Alexi climbed into the driver’s seat, stowed her handbag, and turned the key in the ignition. Apprehension, anger, and relief fought for supremacy as she pulled out into the flow of traffic on the Battersea Road and watched her old home grow smaller in her rear view mirror.
Twenty minutes later, they were on the Westway heading towards the M4, music blasting on the radio, the windscreen wipers on intermittent to counteract the light drizzle that continued to mirror Alexi’s mood. She automatically lifted her foot off the accelerator when she saw a warning sign for a speed camera. Always in a hurry, Alexi put her foot down once she was clear of the danger zone, only to lift it again almost immediately.
‘You know what, Cosmo,’ she said, ‘we don’t actually have to be anywhere. For the first time in living memory, I don’t have a deadline.’
Cosmo’s ears twitched.
Alexi felt a flash of optimism filter through her anger and insecurity. When had she last not had at least one assignment to keep her dashing from pillar to post? When had she last taken time for herself, rather than channelling every second into her career?
She’d made it, too, or at least thought she had. She had won the respect of some of her fiercest critics through hard work and persistence. But now it had all come crashing down in a spectacular ball of flames, and she was left with… well, with Cosmo and two bags of possessions. Not much to show for all that ambition.
Perhaps it was time to reassess.
She sighed, the sound of her mobile pulling her from her reverie. She moved to pick up the call without screening it. As a journalist, she never allowed her phone to go unanswered. Then she remembered that she no longer was a journalist – at least not a gainfully employed one – and checked to see who wanted her.
‘Patrick,’ she muttered, pressing the reject button.
She was well and truly over the two-faced schemer. He still had his cushy number on the Sunday Sentinel, with plum additional duties – her duties. He claimed to love her, but he’d known what changes were in the offing weeks before the announcement and hadn’t warned her. That didn’t add up to love in Alexi’s book. She blew air through her lips and bashed the heel of her hand hard against the steering wheel. Cosmo opened an eye.
‘I should have known there was something wrong when you kept trying to bite his ankles,’ she told her cat.
Cosmo shot her an I-told-you-so look and went back to sleep.
Alexi hummed along with the radio as other cars sped past her, feeling calmer with every mile she put between herself and London. Driving slowly was cathartic. Who knew? The motorway rolled out through open countryside she’d never had time to look at before, and she decided to leave the busy road a couple of junctions short of her destination. The drizzle had stopped and a weak sun threatened to break through. The Berkshire fields undulated gently as she drove through small villages. She slowed to the speed limit on the road into Lambourn, a pretty town lying within a fold of the chalk downs. A large sign welcomed her and asked her to drive carefully. The area was dotted with large houses and stables, the fields fenced with post-and-rail; barely a leaf out of place. She could almost smell the money. A few leggy horses grazed in one of the fields but most of them appeared unoccupied, as did the roads. It was peaceful, pristine, and eerily quiet.
‘I hope you like fresh air and horses, Cosmo,’ she said as the cat finally stirred, sat up, and took notice. ‘And remember what we talked about. No terrorising Cheryl’s dog.’
Cosmo arched his back and sent her an appraising look through piercing hazel eyes.
Alexi followed the directions issued by the disembodied voice from the satnav, feeling guilty that she needed guidance to her best friend’s door; a door she hadn’t passed through since Cheryl’s wedding ten years before. She’d been too busy building a career but in her hour of need, her neglected friend had welcomed her with open arms.
It was humbling.
She drove to Upper Lambourn, past a pub called the Malt Shovel, curious about the origins of its name. Turning left, she took a right through brick gateposts that she still remembered, a discreet plaque advising her that she had reached:
Hopgood Hall
Boutique Hotel.
The gardens on either side of the gravel drive looked pristine. What Alexi knew about gardening could be written on the back of a postage stamp but even she recognised a display of late daffodils and tulips. After the drizzle of London, a chilly breeze had sprung up, blowing away the blanket of cloud and showing the rural setting in its best light.
The old manor house had a façade of honey-coloured stone, wisteria climbing against it, its pendulous purple flowers giving off a heady perfume. Alexi breathed the scent deeply into her lungs. Hers was the only car in the visitors’ parking area, she noticed, but before she could decide if that was a bad omen, the front door burst open and Cheryl flew down the steps, messy blonde curls dancing around her face.
‘You’re here!’ she cried, launching herself into Alex
‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ Alexi replied, wondering how she had let something as inconsequential as work get in the way of their friendship. The warmth of her reception caused the years to fall away and she knew she had done the right thing in coming here to lick her wounds. ‘Thanks for the invite.’
‘Where else would you go in your hour of need?’
Alexi’s reunion with her old friend was interrupted by a series of indignant meows from inside Alexi’s Mini.
‘I’d best let him out before he frightens the horses,’ Alexi said.
Cheryl peered into the car, only to be hissed at. It didn’t seem to faze her. ‘Wow, I’ve never seen such a huge cat.’
‘I did warn you.’ Since being adopted by Cosmo, Alexi had heard him described as anything from a panther to a racoon, or various combinations thereof. ‘Are you absolutely sure he’s welcome? I wish I could say the bad mood was a big act, but it isn’t.’
‘I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.’
Alexi shrugged, crossed the fingers of one hand behind her back, and released Cosmo’s leash with the other. Her cat indulged in another slow stretch, his eyes fixed speculatively upon Cheryl. Alexi tensed when Cheryl reached out a hand and waited for the explosion that didn’t come. Instead, Cosmo submitted to Cheryl’s ministrations and then regally stalked off into a nearby clump of bushes.
‘My god, he remembered his manners. That’s a first.’
They watched his rigid tail disappear deeper into the bushes. Alexi grabbed her handbag and linked her arm through Cheryl’s. ‘I want to hear all your news. How long is it since we last had a chance to catch up face-to-face?’
Cheryl screwed up her nose. ‘When I came to London and stayed with you, more than two years ago. Come on, Drew just put the kettle on. Although the sun’s no doubt over the yardarm somewhere, and if your arrival doesn’t count as an excuse to break out the bubbly, then I don’t know what does. Oh!’ Cheryl clapped her free hand over her mouth. ‘There I go again, letting my tongue run away with me. I guess you’re not in a celebratory mood.’
‘I’m always in the mood for bubbly.’
‘Attagirl!’
They made their way into a large, homely kitchen at the back of the house in which a bear of a man was setting out tea things with remarkable delicacy. He saw Alexi, gave a whoop of delight, and swept her clean off her feet.
‘Thank god you’re here,’ he said. ‘Cheryl’s been listening to the traffic news all day, convinced that every time there was mention of an accident, you had to be involved in it.’
‘Well, you have always been a bit of a reckless driver,’ Cheryl protested.
‘I got more responsible.’
Cheryl stifled a disbelieving laugh. ‘So come on, tell us about it. What happened to you?’ she asked, her smile fading. ‘You’ve been working so hard. I don’t really understand why it all fell apart.’
‘Let the poor woman get some tea down her before you interrogate her, love,’ Drew said mildly.
Cheryl shrugged. ‘I didn’t think a lot of that Patrick guy. You’re worth way more than someone that self-centred.’
‘Yeah, well… oh no!’
A strangled howl from the back garden had Alexi leaping from her seat, already guessing the source of the noise. Cosmo was on the lawn, squaring up to a little terrier.
‘Cosmo, what did I tell you?’ Alexi demanded, joining him outside and placing her hands on her hips.
Cosmo backed down and fixed Alexi with an innocent look. With his tail rigid, he approached a trembling Toby and rubbed his head against the dog’s body.
‘I’ll be damned,’ Drew said, shaking his head.
Cheryl grinned. ‘It seems they’ve worked the pecking order out,’ she said. ‘Come on in for that tea, Lexi, then we can legitimately crack open a bottle or six.’
Alexi didn’t move. Instead she stared at the ugly row of prefabricated chalets occupying a big chunk of the manor’s large garden. They were on the far side, away from the windows in the main house, which is why she hadn’t seen them before.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
‘Come on in and we’ll tell you,’ Cheryl said, grimacing.
Cosmo preceded them through the door and meowed for food. Toby followed behind and barked in support.
Drew guffawed. ‘They’re a bloody double act already.’
Grinning, Alexi reached into her bag and found a pouch of dried cat food she’d had the presence of mind to keep close at hand. Cheryl took it from her and decanted the contents into a plastic bowl.
‘Right,’ Alexi said, as they sat around the scarred pine kitchen table drinking Earl Grey. ‘Spill.’
‘We just couldn’t get the bookings to keep the hotel afloat.’ It was Drew who answered her. ‘It’s all seasonal here. We rely on well-off people who want to rub shoulders with the elite of the racing world. Problem is, if the weather’s crap, they abandon that idea and sod off to sunnier climes.’
‘Plus there’re a lot of cheaper hotels springing up in the area,’ Cheryl added.
‘Don’t you get owners and other high-end horsy types?’
Drew shrugged. ‘Owners either stay with their trainers or just come in for the day.’
‘We get a lot of their business in the bar and restaurant,’ Cheryl said in a cheerful tone that sounded strained.
‘We have a prima donna chef who knows his own worth and causes almost as many problems as he solves,’ Drew said. ‘But at least he draws the punters in. Trainers who want to impress potential owners, stuff like that.’
‘But the… er… annexe?’ Alexi asked, bewildered. ‘How does that fit with your posh image?’
‘Something had to be done. No way was I going to let Drew lose his family home,’ Cheryl said defensively.
Cheryl and Drew had met in a pub during Alexi and Cheryl’s final year at university. The two of them had hit it off immediately and were married the day after Cheryl graduated with a degree in hotel management. Drew had taken out a bank loan to buy out his siblings’ shares of the family home, with plans to turn it into an upmarket hotel.
‘You’ve been holding out on me,’ she said, frowning at her friend.
‘Pride goeth before a fall,’ Cheryl replied, her chin supported in her hands. ‘I wasn’t about to admit to my hotshot journalist friend that we’d messed up.’
‘Oh, Cheryl.’ Alexi leaned forward to give her a hug. ‘I might have been able to help. I could have got our travel section to give you a good write-up, stuff like that. I did mention the place several times but readers don’t look for travel tips in the stuff I write… wrote.’
‘Sorry, hon.’ Cheryl squeezed Alexi’s hand. ‘Take no notice of me. I’m on edge all the time nowadays.’
‘You haven’t told her?’ Drew asked.
‘Told me what?’ One look at their soppy grins and Alexi realised what ought to have been immediately apparent when she saw Cheryl’s expanding waistline. She slopped tea over the table as she jumped up and hugged them both. ‘About time too. Congratulations!’
‘Thanks,’ Cheryl said.
‘When’s the baby due?’
‘Another four months yet,’ Cheryl replied, grimacing.
‘A late-summer baby then. Do we know what you’re having?’
‘No,’ Drew replied. ‘We’re being old-fashioned and prefer a surprise.’
‘I plan to make up for being a crap friend by spoiling the baby rotten.’
‘You’ll have to join the queue,’ Cheryl warned, nodding at her husband who was still sporting a goofy grin. ‘Anyway, we hope you’ll agree to be a godmother.’
‘With pleasure, although what spiritual guidance I can offer is debatable.’
