D. A. Ratliff: Death at Denby Hall

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Death at Denby Hall  

D.  A. Ratliff 

One thing I learned since moving to England is that the Brits know how to throw a party. And not only a pub party with pints and darts but a proper afternoon garden party. A party with women in afternoon dresses and fascinators and men in morning coats while white-gloved servers kept the buffet table full of finger foods and champagne poured freely. I attended that perfect party—perfect until Iris Elrod found Vicar Murphy at the springhouse, dead. 

But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. I am Priscilla Rutledge, born and raised in Charleston, South Carolina. How I came to live in a picturesque cottage in a small village outside of Oxford, England, is a tale for another time. Suffice it to say my fiancé and I worked for the same law firm. The firm discovered he had embezzled money from several of his clients. He went to jail, and though I had no part in his crime, I lost my job. Fast forward to my best friends, Tillie and Jamie Denby, twin children of the Earl and Countess of Denby. We attended Columbia University as undergraduates, became fast friends, and stayed in close touch since graduation.  

Learning of my plight, Tillie convinced her father to secure a position for me at Oxford. Before I had time to deal with losing my job, I became a lecturer on U.S. law as part of the international law program. A guest cottage on the estate became my home, complete with a cat named Hortense, a young farm cat who took up residence when I moved in and won’t leave. 

But back to the events of this day. Tillie’s engagement to British soccer star Arch Ramsey became the talk of Great Britain. The beautiful Lady Matilda of royal lineage marrying soccer royalty was fodder for British media. That she was something like two hundred and twenty-seventh in line for the throne placed her on that list—the list. In keeping with her position, her mother planned an exhaustive schedule of parties, beginning with the engagement party, a black-tie affair held six months ago, and culminating with the wedding in one month. 

A voice floated up from downstairs. “Cilla, it’s Jamie. They’ve sent me to get you.” 

I grabbed the tiny purse and the funny little hat and hurried downstairs. “Jamie, is all of this necessary?” 

“Of course not, but Mother and Father are old school. Still care about the Realm and the pomp and circumstance. These parties are nothing more than for those who can one-up each other in celebration. Most people don’t bother. We bother.” 

“I have never been to a British garden party, so this should be fun.” 

“You look lovely. You will steal the show.” 

Denby Hall was abuzz with catering and florists’ trucks, and a bus unloading waitstaff blocked the curved driveway. A valet took the car to park, and we headed through the massive central hall to the garden.  

If I thought the front of the house was chaotic, it was nothing compared to the activity in the expansive garden. An enormous tent sat on the lawn to the right of the patio, a safeguard in case of rain. Additional cocktail tables scattered across the slate-paved patio provided more seating.  

“Cilla.”  I saw Tillie running toward me, her mother on her heels. Tillie hugged me. “You look lovely. That dress is perfect for you.” 

The Countess Denby nodded. “Yes, I am glad we chose this one for you. You need to put on your fascinator.”  

I stuck the fascinator onto my head, trying to secure it, when the countess tsk-tsked and took it from me. “My dear, this is the way it sits.” She stepped away. “That looks nice. Now, Cilla, would you mind checking to ensure the flowers are on all the tables? Our guests will be arriving shortly.” 

Tillie chuckled as her mother walked away. “You would think the King was coming. She is in a right state today.” 

“The Countess Denby has always been a stickler for detail. Remember when she visited us after we got the apartment at Columbia?” 

“Who could forget? She had it repainted and bought new drapes and rugs. Everything must be perfect.”   

She looked past me and squealed. I knew that meant only one thing. Her groom-to-be had arrived. I left her to greet Arch while I checked the tables.  

~~~ 

An hour later, the lawn was dotted with people in their resplendent finery as serene music drifted from the live string quartet. A colorful mix of dresses in every spring hue punctuated with black or gray morning coats on the men. It was a beautiful May afternoon with a sunny azure sky, fluffy white clouds, and mid-seventy temperatures. Jamie and Tillie introduced me to so many people I lost count. I was chatting with Arch’s soccer team coach when Tillie interrupted.  

“Forgive me, Coach Pells, but I am stealing Cilla.” She led me away to where her parents and Arch’s were chatting with two vicars.  

“May I present Vicar Sean Murphy? You have met Vicar Erwin before. Gentlemen, please meet my best friend, Cilla Rutledge.” We exchanged greetings, and Tillie continued. “Vicar Murphy is now retired, but he married my parents and officiated at our christenings, and we have asked him to participate.”   

We spent a few more minutes chatting, and then Vicar Erwin led the older vicar away. Tillie sighed. “As you can see, Vicar Murphy is getting up there in years, and his memory is fading, but I’m happy he is part of the wedding.” She grabbed my hand. “Let’s get more champagne before Father starts his little speech.” 

Once everyone had a chance to mingle and nibble on foods like coronation chicken or cucumber sandwiches, or strawberry scones, the Earl of Denby stood on the stage and began his welcome speech. As he introduced the bride and groom, a blood-curdling scream came from the lawn. Everyone turned as young Iris Elrod ran toward the tent, yelling frantically. 

“The vicar. He’s dead.”  

Everyone turned to see Vicar Erwin standing on the dais, which meant only one thing. She meant Vicar Murphy.  

She ran into the tent, where Jamie was the first to reach her. “Where is he, Iris?” 

“Behind… behind the house, at the springhouse.”  

The earl took charge, ordering everyone to stay in the tent and not to leave. He, along with Jamie, Arch, Vicar Erwin, and Doctor Wilmont, the family physician, headed toward the springhouse on the far side of the manor. With a glance at each other, Tillie and I followed, ignoring her mother’s orders for us to stay in the tent.  

The old springhouse once served as the water source for the estate but now was part of the tour. A walkway lined with spring flowers led to the stone stoop in front of the wooden plank door. Slumped against the door was Vicar Murphy. Blood from a head wound flowed down his face and stained his clerical collar. A young man stood next to the Vicar. Blood dripped from his fingers. 

Dr. Wilmont rushed to the Vicar to check for a pulse, but the young man stopped him. “He’s gone. I checked.”  

Wilmont checked anyway and nodded to the Earl. “He’s dead, Randolph. Looks like a blow to the head.” 

Lord Randolph Denby turned to the young man. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” 

“Danny Traynor, William Traynor’s son. Iris and I took a walk, and we found him.” 

Jamie pulled out his mobile phone. “Father, I’m calling the police.”  

Dr. Wilmont and Vicar Erwin stayed behind with the body as we returned to the tent. The earl announced that Vicar Murphy was dead and asked everyone to remain in the tent until the police arrived. The countess had the wait staff serve food and drinks while Jamie informed the valet staff of the impending police arrival.  

Tillie and I sat at a small table. She looked flustered. “Tillie, are you okay?”  

“No, I can’t believe this. Not at my party. It’s just all gone pear-shaped.” She sighed. “Sorry, that sounded callous. The poor vicar—he was our vicar when we were children, and I wanted him to be part of the wedding. He’d been retired for years and only did this for me.” 

“This is not your fault.” 

“It feels like it.” 

Arch joined us as we heard sirens, faint at first, then deafening as several police cars headed up the lane. The earl and Jamie met them out front and led them through the house to the patio as it was easier to get to the springhouse from the garden lawn. A van with SOCO on the side came up the lane with a remote television satellite truck and two cars behind.  

I asked what the name on the police van meant. “What’s SOCO?”   

Arch answered. “It stands for Scenes of Crime Officer. It’s the forensics unit.”  He pointed to the car right behind the TV van. “I know that car. That’s Walter Yates, the top football reporter in Britain. Sorry, because I am here, this is bigger news.” 

Tillie grasped his hand. “That is never a worry. They follow you if you go for coffee.” 

A few minutes later, a sedan arrived, and two men in suits came onto the patio. They looked our way before a uniformed officer led them to the crime scene.  

I could tell Tillie was restless and upset and needed to do something. “Tillie, why don’t you and Arch address your guests? You don’t have to talk about what we saw, but maybe just thank them for coming and apologize for the inconvenience.” 

“I think that is a good idea, Cilla.” Arch stood up and held out his hand. “Tillie, let’s do that.” 

As they spoke to the guests, the earl returned with the men, who I assumed were the police detectives. They headed for the dais, and Lord Denby motioned for Tillie and Arch to step aside.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, as you know, we have suffered a tragedy here today. May I introduce Chief Detective Inspector Declan Clarke and Detective Sergeant Rory Lindhurst. Inspector Clarke would like to have a word with you.” 

“Thank you, Lord Denby, Lady Denby. I am sorry for the intrusion of your afternoon, but we are here investigating the suspicious death of Vicar Murphy.” A murmur swept through the crowd, and Clarke raised his hand to quiet them. “Until we know more about the circumstances of the vicar’s death, we will be treating it as suspicious. We will need to speak to each of you before you leave. To facilitate the process, we have a short questionnaire. Lady Denby’s assistant is graciously printing copies to use. If you would be so kind as to fill it out, we will meet you in groups of five couples or families in the central hall. A valet will then retrieve your car, and you can leave. Also, if you have any videos or images taken today, please forward them to the email address on the questionnaire. Thank you.” 

Lady Denby’s assistant, Mavis Jones, began distributing the questionnaires as the Detective Inspector made his way through the tables accompanied by Lord Denby. Lady Denby motioned for us to join her. 

“Tillie, I would like you, James, and Arch to escort each group of guests to the house and Cilla, if you would be kind enough to come into the great hall and deal with seeing our guests to their cars. The Earl and I will be there to say goodbye to them.”  

The process went efficiently, with the only delay when the morgue van left with Vicar Murphy. I have known Lady Denby for eleven years, and I had yet to see her unnerved by anything, but her composure shattered when the van passed by the manor entrance. Lord Denby held her until she managed to gain control again.  

I watched Inspector Clarke with admiration. While most guests were cordial and cooperative, a few were unhappy with dealing with the police. Clarke was low-key and gracious to them, and their arrogance turned calm when dealing with him. He impressed me with his professional demeanor.  

When the last guest had left, we retired to the study, where, since it was nearly five in the afternoon, James declared it was after five p.m. somewhere in the British Empire and that he needed a drink. We all had a drink.  

Detectives Clarke and Lindhurst joined us and declined Jamie’s offer of a drink. Clarke sat beside Lord Denby. “Thank you all for filling out the forms. Lord Denby explained who you are, so there is no need to review the information. However, I do have a few questions. I realize that each of you submitted names to the guest lists, so not all the guests were familiar to everyone. Is that correct?”  

Lady Denby nodded. “That is correct. I certainly didn’t know most of the football people that Arch invited, nor the film and theater crowd Jamie invited.” 

Clarke pursed his lips. “The videographer and photographer you hired to document the party have voluntarily agreed to turn over their film and photos for our review. Thank you for your request to them, Lord Denby. I propose we meet in the morning at the police station in Oxford, where we can view the guests.” 

“We will help with anything you need. Your purpose for our viewing the video, Inspector?” 

“We want to see if anyone was here that did not belong. If all of you could be there at ten a.m., I would appreciate it.” 

“We will be there, Inspector.” Lord Denby nodded and showed the inspector out. 

~~~ 

Oxford on a Sunday morning proved to be quiet. For a city of over 150,000 residents, until noontime, there weren’t many people milling about, and parking at the Thames Valley Police Station proved easy. I had driven into town by myself as I planned to work in my office at Trinity College before returning to the manor house for Sunday tea. Everyone else arrived not long after, and Inspector Clake escorted us to a large conference room. 

“This is Sergeant Baker, a digital forensics technician with SOCO. He will be taking you through the videos.” 

Baker pointed to the large screen. “As we go through the videos, I marked several frames showing larger groups of guests. I will ask that Your Lordship and Lady Denby go first and identify people that you do not know. If any of you know those people, please speak up. Then, we will go around the room to do the same and continue to the next frame. It’s tedious to do this, but it’s the only way to ensure we don’t miss a guest that none of you know.” 

The process was indeed tedious, but it paid off. We had gone through several frames before we could not identify one man with blond hair and black-rimmed glasses. Baker asked us to wait as he did an image search for the man. He found four more views, but his face was wholly visible in none of them. One image, however, showed him talking to Vicar Murphy.  

Clarke flipped on the lights. “None of you know this man? Any possibility he came with someone, and you didn’t realize it?” 

Lady Denby shook her head. “My husband and I greeted arriving guests, and my assistant informed us when the RSVP list had all arrived. That person did not come in the front door.” 

The inspector shrugged his shoulders. “This unknown person came onto the grounds of Denby Hall, and we know he spoke with the vicar. At this point, he is a person of interest, but I caution you to please be careful. If you should see this man, do not engage him. Call 999.” 

By noon, I headed to my office, where I worked on the remaining papers I needed to grade before finals, stopping at three p.m. when hunger pangs gnawed. I finished the last paper and drove to my favorite pub for a bite before going home. The Rose and Thorne was cozy, with dark woods, plaid upholstery, and friendly staff, and they served an authentic American-style burger.  

I found a small booth in the corner beside the window and watched the gathering clouds. Lightning preceded the threatening rain, and I stared at the sky while waiting for my order. I jumped when someone spoke.  

“Ms. Rutledge?” 

I turned to find Inspector Clarke standing beside the booth. He wore bike shorts and a T-shirt. I stuttered, sounding a little flustered but he looked different than in his suit, quite athletic.  

“In—Inspector.” That was all I could manage. 

“May I join you?” 

I nodded. “Of course.” 

“Thanks. I wanted to ask you a few questions, but first, you are an American with a lovely accent. Southern US, I believe?” 

“Perceptive. I am from Charleston, South Carolina.” 

“The Spoleto Festival is held there.” 

“Yes, you know of it?” 

“My sister and her husband are going this year. She is an artist, and he is a chef with a restaurant in Brighton.” 

“They will love it. It is very crowded, but Charleston is beautiful. I could suggest a few places to visit if they have time.” 

“That would be nice. But I wanted to ask you how you came to stay at Denby Hall.” 

I gave him the CliffNotes version of what happened, starting with becoming friends with Tillie and Jamie and ending with being let go from my job because of my fiancé’s crimes. Clarke remained stoic as he listened.  

“I know the cottage, Willow Lane Cottage, if I remember correctly, has a little wooden bridge over the creek you cross from where the cars park. My sister painted it and sold the painting at auction for charity.” 

“Yes, it’s so quaint and so….” 

“English?” 

I laughed. “Yes, English. I am fortunate that Lord and Lady Denby invited me to come here and live. My parents spend most of their time in Atlanta, where my brother lives with his wife and four kids, so Charleston was lonely for me.”  

“The Denby family has always been benefactors to the community.” 

“They certainly have.”  

The owner’s wife brought his order to the table along with mine and gave him a wink. He seemed embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to have Flo bring my food here.” 

“No worries, you are welcome to join me, Inspector.” 

“As this is lunch, not police business, please call me Declan.” 

“Call me Cilla.” 

We shared lunch and talked about our childhood and sports as I attempted to learn more about the English game of football. We parted with no plans to meet again but with his promise to keep us informed about the Vicar’s death.  

~~~ 

Monday dawned, and I planned to stay home during the morning as classes had ended, but I would keep my student officer hours in the afternoon for review before finals. I had finished a load of laundry when Tillie called and requested that I come to the house as Inspector Clarke was on his way with information. I admit that seeing the inspector was much more appealing than laundry.  

Inspectors Clarke and Lindhurst arrived just after I did, and we were shown to the sunroom and served coffee. Declan smiled at me before speaking, and Tillie, sitting beside me on a settee, elbowed me. I glared, but she laughed.  

“Lord and Lady Denby, thank you for seeing us on short notice. The preliminary autopsy results are conclusive that Vicar Murphy was murdered. The fatal wound was a blow to his upper forehead from a heavy object. SOCO found a large stone in the grass nearby, presumably thrown after being used to strike him. The stone, which resembled those used to line the springhouse sidewalk, had traces of blood and skin fragments matching that of the deceased. There was a small wound to the back of the victim’s head. The coroner believes that wound was acquired when he fell backward from the fatal blow.” 

Arch spoke up. “There is no question that he was murdered? He couldn’t have simply stumbled and gotten up before falling again?” 

“The coroner looked at all possibilities and determined that the wound to the forehead would have rendered the vicar unconscious immediately and likely dead within minutes. He wouldn’t have been capable of standing up if he had fallen onto the murder weapon.” 

“Do you know more about the unidentified man who came to the party?” Lord Denby’s voice was stern and betrayed his anger. “I’m sorry, Detective Inspector, this is very unsettling. I try to protect my family, yet someone may have come onto the estate and murdered a dear friend.” 

“I understand, Your Lordship. No, we know nothing more about this man. We have been running the best image we have of him, which is not particularly good, through facial recognition software, but there is nothing yet. We are checking all CCTV cameras that monitor the main roads for a possible sighting, but again, nothing.” Clarke nodded toward his partner. “Detective Lindhurst is contacting the guests, asking if anyone saw or interacted with this man during the party.” 

Lindhurst spoke. “Unfortunately, no one seems to have spoken with him or noticed him.” 

Clarke nodded. “We have little information. We don’t know if his conversation with the vicar was by chance or if more is going on. We ask that you be vigilant and contact us immediately regarding any suspicious activity.”  

With that, the detectives left, but not before another exchange of smiles from Declan. An interaction that did not go unnoticed by Tillie, but I ignored her sly grin. 

~~~ 

The suspicious activity Declan warned us about started in earnest that night. A vehicle with large tires drove through several freshly planted fields of pumpkins, carrots, beetroots, and parsnips, destroying the plantings. With no cameras in the fields, far from the manor house, investigators could only take tire tread impressions and hope to get a lead.  

But the incidents didn’t stop there. Over the next three nights, arson claimed a horse barn on the estate—fortunately, quick action by stable attendants who lived next to the barn rescued the horses inside. Jamie’s Oxford theater had a Molotov cocktail thrown in a rear window, doing severe damage to the prop room, and someone broke into the clothing charity Tillie and Lady Denby sponsored, spreading the racks with red paint.  

Detective Clarke once more came to the manor house to speak to a solemn Earl of Denby and, I dare to say, a frightened family, including me. Lord Denby paced the floor as he spoke to Clarke.  

“We can replace the crops as it is early enough in the season. Fortunately, we have insurance, but could have lost eight of our most valuable horses in that fire. My son’s pride and joy, his small theater company, damaged by arson. The clothing charity that does such good work vandalized. Detective, you must find out who is doing this.” 

“I promise we are, Your Lordship. It is clear now that the Vicar was not the only target. Whoever is doing this is targeting Denby Hall and all of you personally. Can you think of any connection between these events?” 

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” 

“The good news is that we may have a lead on the truck that did the crop damage. I’m meeting Lindhurst now to find out what he has learned. I’ll be in touch.” 

As Clarke prepared to leave, Lord Denby added. “I have hired a security company to patrol the grounds until we know what is happening. Keep us informed.” 

~~~ 

That evening, I went straight to the manor house from Trinity College to have dinner with the family. To say that we were all unnerved was an understatement. There was comfort in being together. 

The vicar’s funeral was tomorrow afternoon, and my friends were painfully affected by his loss. When I returned to Willow Tree cottage at nearly nine p.m., I stopped to marvel at the golden orange band of sky along the horizon as the sun set.  

The gray tabby cat, Hortense, greeted me at the door and then ran into the kitchen for her dinner. She mewed as I opened a can of food and waited for me to chop a bit of cheese as she wouldn’t eat without the cheese. While she ate, I headed upstairs to change and decide what to wear to the funeral. Returning downstairs, I found Hortense standing in the kitchen window, hissing.  

I approached her as my skin began to tingle. “What’s wrong?” She shifted her weight and hissed again.   

Then I saw what she did. Someone was lurking in the yard.  

Don’t panic. I repeatedly told myself not to panic, but my body’s fight-or-flight response was leaning toward the flight mode. I took a breath. Phone—I needed the phone. I’d left it on the table by the front door. I rushed to grab it, but as I did, it rang. I screamed, but relief passed through me as I saw it was Declan calling. 

“Declan…” 

“Listen to me. Lock your doors and stay out of sight. I’m coming there. We know who the man is, and he has a grudge against the Denbys. He used to live in the cottage. We think he may come there.” 

“He’s here.” 

“What? You saw him?” 

“Someone’s hiding under the willow tree in the front yard.” 

“I’m on my way. Hide somewhere.” 

Before I could answer, the man emerged from under the willow branches. My heart skipped a beat. He was carrying gasoline cans. He opened one and flung the gasoline across the lawn and the bushes.  

“I see him. He has gas cans. He’s going to burn the cottage.” 

“Get out of there.” I heard Declan yelling, but all I could think of was getting Hortense out. I might not find her in time if she ran and hid in the house. 

“Gotta get the cat out of here. Be right back.” 

I rushed into the kitchen, Declan’s voice from the phone yelling at me to get out. I put the phone on the counter, grabbed the cat, ran to the side window, opened it, and dropped her outside, safe. 

As I went to get the phone, the front door flew open from being kicked. A dark-haired man, eyes blazing, holding a gas can, stood in the parlor, staring at me. His upper lip snarled as he spoke. 

“Didn’t think anyone was living here. No one should be living here but me Mum. Who are you?” 

I leaned against the counter in front of the sink. “I’m renting the cottage from Lord Denby.”  

“I saw you at the party. You shagging that actor boy?” 

“No. What do you want?” 

I learned the meaning of a sinister grin as one crossed his face. “Vengeance.” 

“For what?” 

“My father was the old Earl’s farm manager. Gave us this house to live in. My father was a bastard, and he beat my mom and me. My mom begged the Earl and that bint he were married to for help. But they were too scared to lose me dad because the Earl knew nothing about farming. Then, one day, my dad hit her too hard, and she died. Bastard ran off, and the Earl sent me to the orphanage. Didn’t have the decency to keep me on the farm.” 

The phone line was still open. I had to keep this man talking. “I’m sorry about your mother. It must have been hard for you.” 

“That bloody vicar took me in for a couple of weeks. I could have stayed with him, but the Earl insisted I go to that orphanage. I didn’t know anyone, and they treated me like a leper. Taunted me about me dad, saying I was a killer like he was.” 

“You were at the party.” 

“Yea. Clean up pretty good, don’t I? Wig, fake glasses, expensive suit. Was planning on talking to the Earl, getting on his good side, and then killing him like his father killed my mother.” 

“What happened with Vicar Murphy?” 

The man seemed uncomfortable, his body twitching as he glared at me. “Even with the disguise, the fool recognized me. Said he’d never stopped thinking about me all those years. Said he prayed for me when my dad died. Liar.” 

“What happened with the vicar?” 

He shook his head. “Bloody bollocks wanted to take me to talk to the great Earl. Said he was nothing like his father. I knew better. All that money and power, and they let my mom die.” He looked at the gas can. “I had to kill him. He was gonna tell, and I couldn’t let that happen. Grabbed a rock and smashed him in the head. Blood splattered on my suit, and I couldn’t go back to the party, so I left. I had time to play before I killed that bastard, so I set a couple of fires.” He grinned again. “Now, time to kill you.” 

I knew he meant it. I reached behind and felt for the paring knife I had used earlier. As I grabbed the knife, he lunged at me, and I managed to stab him in the upper arm, then pulled the knife back. I attempted to get around him as he stumbled backward, but he caught me. He was strong, but I was scared, and adrenalin fueled my resolve. I forced my arm up and plunged the knife into his side. Grabbing the gas can he had dropped, I ran out the door.  

The stench of gasoline was overpowering. I gagged but kept running, getting thirty feet from the house when he appeared in the doorway. 

“You aren’t getting away.” Clutching his bloody side, he ran toward me.   

I didn’t have time to react as I heard footsteps racing across the bridge. In a blur, Declan passed me at a dead run and tackled the man. Rolling him over, he handcuffed him and then came to me.  

“You’re safe, thank goodness.” 

“I tried to keep him talking… I knew you were coming.” Declan’s arms slid around me, and I never felt safer.   

Blue lights appeared on the road, and the police and fire brigade rushed into the yard. It was over.  

~~~ 

It was seven in the morning when Declan returned to the manor house, where he had brought me just before midnight. Lady Denby served him coffee and uttered a tsk-tsk as she walked away. I don’t think she entirely approved of Hortense lying on a silk pillow beside me.  

“I see the cat made it home.” Declan chuckled. 

“Hortense apparently doesn’t like the great outdoors. She hopped into a police car, and Jamie brought her here.” 

“Declan thank you for getting to Cilla in time.” Lady Denby sighed. “She is part of this family, and we are thankful she is safe.” 

“I want her safe as well.” 

Lord Denby joined us. “I must say, I hadn’t thought of that incident in many years. I was in college at the time, and so was my sister. My parents were devastated. They cared a great deal for Fiona Lester and her son, David. My father later told me that Fiona had confessed that her husband, Edgar, was violent, but he never said she begged him to help. When it happened, Edgar disappeared, and the assumption was that he killed Fiona.” 

“The man—David—told me last night that he wanted to stay on the farm and was upset that Vicar Murphy didn’t keep him.”   

The Earl of Denby closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. “Cilla, what neither I nor my sister knew at the time was that our mother was extremely ill. She wanted to take David in, but my father refused. He realized she had little time, and he was selfish.  I suppose we all should take a lesson from this and never walk away.” 

Declan responded. “Lord Denby, let’s not forget that David Lester killed his father. He was convicted of manslaughter, but when interviewing him last night, he confessed that he intended to kill his father. He hunted him down, got him drunk, and purposely drove off a bridge. He thought he would die then as well.” 

“You are correct, Inspector. The damage David did to our property is repairable, but the tragedy is the loss of our friend Vicar Murphy and the danger that Cilla endured. We are thankful she is all right.” 

“I agree.” Declan took my hand. “She was fearless.” 

Tillie spoke. “I know we have a solemn afternoon at the Vicar’s funeral, but tomorrow, we have a football game and a party afterward thrown by Arch’s club. A celebration for the end of the season, the playoffs, and our upcoming wedding.”  

My friend winked at me and then addressed Declan. “Inspector, we have an extra ticket for the game and would like to invite you to attend the party. You can be Cilla’s guest.” 

Declan grinned slyly at me. “I would like that. I accept.” 

The last few days had been trying for everyone, and Vicar Murphy’s death was difficult. But with Declan’s smile, much of the stress faded away. We would mourn the vicar and celebrate our friends’ wedding.  

Besides, I have a date for the celebration, and there is no doubt that the Brits know how to throw a party.  

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