Dream Cottage (15 page)

“To do what?”

Rev Oli was fanatical; he screamed. “It was him all along. He wanted rid of Miss Lukin, Evie! He wanted her out of the cottage so he could buy it from me for a
pittance. He was so desperate to buy Greenacres. But I wouldn’t let him have it. I just wouldn’t!”

“This is crazy! How despicable!” Greta was shocked.

“Mowbrie drove me near to insanity! Constantly watching my every move, taunting me with threats! I was determined not to let him have Greenacres, at any cost!”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“I couldn’t! He would have killed me; he pushed me into a corner. He told me if I said anything that he would kill me. He kept demanding more and more money from me. The only income I had was from the rent of Greenacres, and when Evie didn’t pay, I feared for my life! Of what repercussions it might have on me. I couldn’t bear to think of what he would do to me!”

“So he was blackmailing you. I can’t believe all this can happen in such a quiet community.”

“I am sorry, Gretel, to disappoint you. I… ahhhhh!”

Rev Oli dropped to the floor like a stone. He laid face down in the grass in the back garden. Greta rushed over and turned him gently on to his side. She felt for a pulse. She shook her head in disbelief.

“Oh no! Please no!” she hastily reached for her mobile phone and dialled 999.

“Police please, and an ambulance!”

After making the call, Greta held on to Rev Oli’s hand. His pulse was very weak.

“Don’t you die on me, Reverend. You can’t escape that easily. There are a lot of unanswered questions you need to tell us. I know the police will be keen to speak with you.”

Rev Oli eyes were closed. He was lifeless but he was still breathing, short and shallow breaths. The distant sound of emergency services sirens were becoming louder as they reached Greenacres. Two paramedics jumped out of an ambulance, ran over to where Rev Oli lay and took over.

“This is Reverend Oliphant. I think he’s had a heart attack.” Greta spoke in a whisper.

“Thank you, we’ll treat him, now,” the paramedic replied. A police car arrived on the scene shortly afterwards.

“Hello, I would like to report a crime, please, officer,” Greta announced.

Max had arrived earlier in the evening at Greta’s parents’ home. Nonie, Greta and Max were all sitting around the kitchen table. Each clutched a glass varying from a sherry schooner to a whisky tumbler. They sat in silence. Jeanne and Charles were in the drawing room. They too sat in silence. Greta’s phone rang.

“Hello? Yes, this is Greta Berkley. Oh… no… oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know.” She ended the call. Nonie looked at Greta.

“Was it the hospital?”

Greta nodded.

“How is he?”

“Rev Oli didn’t responded to treatment; its not good news, I’m afraid. He died a few minutes ago. They couldn’t revive him.” She blinked away a tear. “This is terrible. He has left us in a complete quandary with so many unanswered questions. He held so much information, so many answers. This is just terrible!” Greta shook her head. Max held her hand.

“I’m sure he didn’t intend to die, love. You can’t blame him. From what you have told me he had a pretty bad time of things - both spiritually and in life. With Marcus
Mowbrie on his case all the time. His life must have been sheer hell.”

“But why would Mowbrie treat him so badly? Why did he blackmail the Reverend?”

Max tried to make sense of the events.

“Because he obviously knows about the tunnel and what it harbours.”

Nonie looked at Greta.

“Harbours? What do you mean?”

“The box in the room in the tunnel,” Greta announced and took a sip from her glass.

“So you found something?” Nonie sat upright.

“Yes, we did and… uh?” Greta was stopped in her tracks from a swift kick from Max from under the table. “It was an old box, nothing in it. Disappointing.”

Nonie wasn’t convinced.

“There has to be much more to all this to make Marcus Mowbrie so desperate to buy the cottage.”

“Hmm.” Greta nodded.

“But you aren’t going to tell me, are you? Even though Willow has already told me what you found!” Nonie retorted.

Greta glanced at Max. He returned her glance with a frown. He shook his head.

“Are you going to tell me? You don’t have to, but, as I said, Willow has already told me. So you may as well spill the beans.” Nonie persisted in a very convincing fashion.

“Okay,” Greta conceded. “We found some gold in a box. We didn’t move it out of the room in the tunnel. It’s still down there. We thought it best to leave well alone, in case of any repercussions.”

“Right, so
that
is Mowbrie’s motive to get his hands on the cottage?” Nonie surmised.

“You knew that already, didn’t you? You just told us!” Greta looked at Nonie in disbelief.

“Well, yes… I… Allegedly, from what information I managed to glean, Mr Mowbrie has a wife with a serious spending problem. She spends as much as she can. Much more than Mowbrie can earn. I think she is an addict.”

“And?” Greta replied.

“It all makes sense now, he needed a house to keep her in her materialism.” Nonie recalled her encounter with Mowbrie along the lane after her first visit to Greenacres. “It figures, that’s why he didn’t want me to investigate Greenacres.”

“Rev Oli did say she was expensive to keep; that she had a problem… what do you mean, he didn’t want you to investigate? When did you see Mowbrie?” Greta was startled by Nonie’s words.

“He, Mr Mowbrie, stopped me in the lane, the first time I visited, when I drove over; he threatened me and told me not to find anything. He said he was concerned about what the locals would say; didn’t want to upset a quiet community…”

“Rather he was concerned you would foil him and his involvement. What an evil man. A shallow bully!” Greta took a gulp of whisky and blinked as she swallowed.

Max was listening intently.

“What have you told the police, Greta?” He drained his glass.

“I told them we had been burgled, with the smashed window in the kitchen. I’m not so sure now. It might have been evil at work; or could it have been Mowbrie?” Greta looked at Max.

“So you didn’t mention anything of past events at Greenacres then?”

“No. I didn’t think it was relevant.” Greta got up from the table and placed her glass on the work surface.

“Right. So we still have the problem of Barnabas on our hands, and Mowbrie.” Max looked at Nonie.

“Is this Barnabas still at Greenacres?”

Nonie nodded.

“Yes, as far as I can tell. I have told Greta he is going to be very difficult to move on.”

“Right. We need to get a plan together to oust this character from the cottage. I think it’s time we get some sleep and tackle this in the morning.” Max in turn got up from the table. He wandered into the drawing room where Jeanne and Charles were unusually quiet.

“Goodnight all. It’s been a hectic day!” He smiled at Jeanne, who managed a weak smile.

Jeanne hesitated but spoke anyway, “Any news of the Reverend?”

Max nodded. “He didn’t make it, Jeanne. Died about half an hour ago.” He pursed his lips.

“Oh…” Jeanne held her hand to her heart. “God rest his soul.”

“Damn shame, that. Goodnight, old boy,” Charles replied. “Just off to bed myself,” he added.

“Are you any closer to believing there is an after life?” Greta was snuggled in bed with Max’s arm draped loosely around her shoulders. She couldn’t sleep.

“I’m finding it increasingly difficult not to believe, due to all the happenings at Greenacres. I still think, until I physically witness something, I will remain on the fence about the paranormal,” Max replied.

“What do you think of Nonie?” she quizzed.

“Not so sure; she is a bit of a dark horse. I think there is much more to Nonie Spangler than meets the eye. We ought to tread very carefully; don’t let her know too much. I think she could be quite dangerous.”

“Really?” Greta turned and faced Max.

“Yes. There were certain things I picked up on when she was speaking this evening. Like when you mentioned the box and the gold.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything about that.” Greta was angry with herself with being so forthcoming with information.

“No, you shouldn’t have. That’s your gullibility showing its ugly head again. But it can’t be helped now. We need to get to the bottom of this entire fiasco and get some normality back into our lives.”

Greta nodded in silence.

“What are we going to do about the brick wall around the well; come to think of it, what about the window?”

Max thought for a moment.

“What’s happening with the police?”

“I reported the broken window when they arrived. The officer said he would investigate and give me a call to take down some details and give me a crime reference number. They were also arranging for a glazier to board the window up, which I assume they have done. But I suppose we will find out in the morning. I expect they will ring with an update. It seems to be the least of our worries at the moment.”

“That might be the case but we still have a criminal on the loose. Do they have any idea who might have broken it?” Max asked.

“No, not really. Unless, I am thinking it might have been our friendly farmer. It would be the sort of stunt he would try to pull, to try to frighten us. He must be pretty pissed off about the whole affair.”

“Hmm, not so sure he would lower himself to do something like that. I wish I knew the reason why he was blackmailing Reverend Oli. It just doesn’t make any sense.” Max released his hold of Greta and turned over.

“I think his sole intention was to bully Reverend Oli into selling him Greenacres so he could get his hands on the gold. He must know everything about the place,” Greta replied.

“Okay, well goodnight, darling. We’ll talk more about all this in the morning. Oh, and try not to have any more dreams, please!”

Greta turned over and closed her eyes. It had been a harrowing experience for not only her but Nonie too. She snuggled into her pillow and soon after fell asleep.

“The same name, they shared the same name…” a voice in Greta’s head repeated the words time and again.

“I know; but I still can’t believe what you are telling me is true. He was such a gentle man; he couldn’t possibly have murdered Evie; I need more proof.”

“Perhaps the answers are already there…” the voice continued.

“Where?”

“All around you…”

“If you mean you have the answers, why don’t you just tell me?”

“I have…”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must understand! You must! But… be careful!”

Greta woke up. She blinked a couple of times and reached across the bed. Max was silently sleeping. She sighed in relief.

“It was just a dream,” she muttered to herself. “Thankfully, just a dream.”

She jumped as a voice was calling her name.

“Greta! Greta? Are you awake?”

“Only just. What time is it?”

“Time to rise! Its 8 o’clock!” Jeanne boomed out from the bottom of the stairs.

“Thanks mummy!” Greta returned. Max stirred and opened his eyes.

“Early morning call, I take it?” He yawned and turned to cuddle Greta, who was trying to get out of bed.

“Big day; lots to do.” She grabbed her dressing gown and headed for the bathroom.

Greta and Max were meeting with an army of fitters at Greenacres that morning. The carpet fitters were due 
to arrive at 9.30am to begin fitting the upstairs carpets and floor tiles in the ensuite bathrooms. The idea was to work from the top of the house to the ground floor, in between which time, the builders were expected to finish rebuilding the feature wall in the kitchen. Max hoped that if they all pulled together, this mammoth task might well be achieved without any further hitches. He was itching to get all the renovations finished at the cottage. He had the vision that Greta and he would be ready to move in by the end of the following week. Kindness aside, Max didn’t want to overstay their welcome, staying with Greta’s parents. They had been put upon enough in the ensuing past weeks. He wanted Greta to settle in to Greenacres and allay any fears or worries she might be experiencing.

They had a relaxing breakfast with Jeanne at the helm in the kitchen. They had to beg her not to provide another huge cooked breakfast and managed to curtail her to scrambled eggs on toast.

“When we move into Greenacres, we will get some chickens, mummy, so you can have fresh eggs for your cakes and breakfasts.” Greta scraped the last morsel from her plate.

“Oh that would be wonderful, darling, won’t it Maxim?” Jeanne beamed.

Max looked nonplussed. “Suppose so; but all they seem to do is eat, scratch everything to smithereens and crap everywhere!”

“Oh!” Jeanne looked deflated.

“Max!” Greta hissed. “Sorry mummy, he does have a romantic side… somewhere inside that head of his!”

“Not as far as bloody hens go!” Max mumbled and sipped his tea.

“And we could get some sheep, pigs… oh, perhaps I could have a horse!” Greta began to daydream.

Max raised an eyebrow.

“Right, I think we need to make tracks. Can you entertain Nonie for us, please, Jeanne? It will only be for the morning. It’s time we left for Greenacres. Fitters will be arriving soon!” Max quickly changed the subject, finished his tea and got up from the table. “Thank you once again, Jeanne, for an outstanding breakfast.” He walked over and pecked her on the cheek in gratitude.

“You’re very welcome Maxim, as always. And I will try to keep Ms Spangler occupied. I will take her to the garden centre; perhaps show her some of the sights. She hasn’t even stirred yet from her room. I have been upstairs to check.”

“Thanks Jeanne, you’re a star. We’ll one day return the favour; I promise!” Max searchingly looked at Greta. She took this as a hint to get her coat.

“Thanks, mummy. I’ll give you a call later on to let you know how things are going.” Greta followed Max to the hallway.

“Bye!” they called out in unison.

Charles burbled his farewell from upstairs. He was midway through his ablutions.

“Bye dad!” Greta laughed.

“Is he still reading
The Times
up there?” laughed Max.

“Probably; knowing the father!” Greta replied and zipped up her coat.