Murder At the House On the Hill Read online

  Murder At The House On The Hill

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Epilogue Six Months Later

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Victoria Walters

  Copyright

  Cover

  Table of Contents

  Start of Content

  Murder At The House On The Hill

  Victoria Walters

  A huge thank you to Anna Bell for helping me to come up with the name for the village (and the series!) – I’ll be forever grateful.

  Chapter One

  Sleet danced past the window of the Dedley Endings Bookshop but Nancy Hunter paid it no attention – she was far too engrossed in her book.

  Dedley End, nestled in the Cotswolds, was filled with tourists in the summer seeking out cobbled streets and hikes with stunning views but in December it was just the locals who spent time in the village. The days were drawing ever closer to Christmas and Nancy knew that there would be a last-minute rush from their customers to buy gifts. But today, it had been too cold for many of them to venture into the small High Street, so it had been a quiet morning in the shop. After doing all the admin and tidying that was needed, she had retreated behind the counter and pulled out the book she was in the middle of, thinking as she often did that she really did have the best job in the world.

  ‘Fancy a cup of tea, love? It’s so chilly,’ her grandmother, Jane, called from the back office. Nancy called back that she would love one. Her grandmother was meant to be retired but she couldn’t resist daily walks to the shop from their nearby cottage, needing her fix of local gossip – although so far today there had been none to enjoy.

  Nancy closed her book when she reached the end of the chapter. She had read it before – it was one of her favourites passed down to her by her father, a murder mystery by bestselling author Thomas Green. She smiled over at their beagle Charlie who was fast asleep on the window seat. He always accompanied her in the shop and was beloved by the village. Nancy continued a sweep of the small, cosy shop with her eyes, and let out a wistful sigh. At this time of year, she missed her father the most. They would need to decorate the shop for Christmas soon and that had always been his favourite thing to do.

  ‘Here we go,’ Jane said, coming out with two large steaming hot mugs, taking her usual seat by the till. Although now in her late sixties with grey hair and wrinkles around her green eyes, she was still surprisingly sprightly. Nancy’s father had passed on his bookshop to Jane after his untimely death and she had spent sixteen years at the helm before letting Nancy take over the day-to-day management of it earlier this year, but she hated being stuck at home so fully immersed herself in local activities and committees. ‘What are you thinking about?’

  ‘That we need to put up the tree, and how much Dad enjoyed wrapping books to put under it,’ Nancy replied, pushing back a stray hair from her light brown bob as she looked over at the corner where the tree stood every year.

  Her grandmother smiled. ‘He really did. It’s always hard at this time of the year without him, isn’t it?’ she said wistfully.

  Nancy nodded. ‘Because it’s such a family time.’ Her face clouded over as she thought about how her gran was her only family. Not only had she lost her father when she was ten, but her mother had long since left the village and neither of them had any idea where she was. ‘Let’s decorate on Sunday,’ she added, trying to brighten the conversation up. ‘Make it really special.’ Nancy was twenty-six and had worked in the bookshop since she had left university five years ago and was excited to be running it now. She had lots of ideas for the place but they would need to wait until after the Christmas rush.

  ‘He would love that. And we can move all the Christmas editions to the window, they always sell well, don’t they?’

  Nancy nodded in agreement, looking at the bookshelves. When Nancy’s father had decided to open a bookshop in the village he had lived in all his life, there had really only been one choice of genre for him. If you lived in Dedley End, you had to embrace the murder puns or lose your sense of humour completely. The Dedley Endings Bookshop consequently only sold crime, mystery and thriller books and people came from far and wide for the novelty, especially as so many detective stories were set in the Cotswolds. The business had thrived for twenty years, and Nancy was determined that it would continue to do so for a very long time indeed.

  The door opened then, making the bell on top of it jingle merrily. Charlie opened his eyes instantly and let out a bark in greeting. He didn’t get up though; it was too cold for the dog to move from his warm sleeping spot.

  ‘Morning folks,’ Paul, the postman, said with a nod. ‘Here’s your post.’ He placed two envelopes on the counter and then actually winked. ‘Causing a stir in the village this morning, they are,’ he said, giving them a tap.

  ‘What are they?’ Jane asked, standing and moving to Nancy’s side to see.

  ‘I’ll let you see for yourselves but I will say this – I’ll see you there!’ And with that cryptic comment, he left the shop, pushing his post cart off down the High Street, whistling on his way as usual.

  Jane and Nancy looked at one another. ‘Well, what was that all about?’

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ Nancy said, picking up the envelope addressed to her. Her grandmother did the same for hers. Nancy opened up the envelope and pulled out the thick cream card within. It was the highest quality stationery – an invitation written in gold calligraphy. ‘Oh my,’ she said with a gasp as she read it.

  ‘Knock me down with a feather,’ Jane muttered as she too read her invite. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  Nancy stared at the words just as stunned.

  Nancy Hunter and guest

  Please join us for an engagement celebration to honour Maria Roth and Charles Spencer at Roth Lodge on Friday 8th December from 7.30pm to 9pm.

  Cocktails and canapés will be served. Dress code: Black tie

  Please RSVP to Jessica Roth

  ‘But the Roths never invite anyone in the village to their house,’ Nancy said when she had read it, looking up at her gran, wide-eyed. She used t
he word ‘house’ but Roth Lodge really was a mansion. Although it stood just outside the village, perched on a hill, the Roth family never ventured into the High Street and kept the large gates firmly closed to anyone from Dedley End.

  ‘Not for thirty years,’ Jane agreed, shaking her head. ‘I never thought I’d see the day again, to be honest.’

  ‘I wonder why they’ve invited us to this,’ Nancy said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever even spoken to Maria Roth.’

  ‘Perhaps she persuaded her parents, and grandfather, to let her invite locals. I mean, it is her party. Well, whatever the reason behind it, we have been invited. The question is, what do we RSVP?’

  Before Nancy could answer her, the bookshop doorbell jingled again and she reluctantly tore her eyes away from the invitation to see who it was.

  Chapter Two

  ‘It’s quiet in here!’ a cheerful male voice called out as the door swung open to reveal Jonathan Murphy, Nancy’s friend since childhood, giving them a cheerful wave.

  This time Charlie did get up; he loved Jonathan and rushed over to greet him, his tail wagging. Jonathan bent down to rub his ears. ‘I brought lunch!’

  ‘Brilliant, I’m starving,’ Nancy replied, turning back to the invitation.

  ‘You always are,’ he replied, coming over and putting a paper bag from the local café, The Teahouse, down on the counter. ‘I bought enough for three, Mrs H,’ he added, giving Jane one of his winning smiles. She tutted under her breath. Nancy hid a grin. Her grandmother always acted like Jonathan was a bad influence. ‘So, what’s the news?’ he asked casually.

  Nancy looked up and narrowed her eyes as Jonathan pulled out an egg and cress sandwich for Jane, a cheese and tomato for Nancy, and a ham and pickle for himself, three bags of crisps, three bottles of orange juice and three chocolate muffins. ‘What’s all this in aid of?’ she asked.

  He avoided her eyes. ‘What are you saying? That I can’t bring my oldest and dearest friend her lunch without an ulterior motive?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

  Finally, he looked up and smiled sheepishly at her. Jonathan was shorter than Nancy even though he was two years older, at twenty-eight, something that she had often teased him about while they were growing up. He had messy dark hair, and dark eyes, and always wore the same scruffy jeans paired with an array of cosy jumpers. Jonathan, in turn, had started her nickname of ‘Nancy the vampire’ at school thanks to her willowy figure, pale skin, and surname.

  Really it was a wonder that they were friends at all.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose I did want to talk to you…’ His eyes rested on the invitation in her hands again.

  ‘Something to do with this?’ she pressed, giving it a little wave.

  ‘All right, fine, I need to ask you something. And you must say yes because my career depends on it!’

  ‘Let’s get the food out and sit down first. With all this excitement, I need some sustenance,’ Jane said, rolling her eyes at their exchange. Jonathan dutifully handed out the food, and Jane sat back down behind the till, and he went over to the brown leather armchair kept out for customers.

  Nancy walked to the window seat, which offered a view of the small, narrow shop, and perched on it. Charlie jumped back up beside her and put a paw on her leg. She smiled, breaking off a piece of her sandwich for him to eat. She loved the shop. Everywhere you looked were books; tall shelves packed with them from floor to ceiling. Customers often became confused with the ordering – her father hadn’t been the most organised of people, after all – and even their part-time assistant, and Nancy’s friend, Penelope was often calling for help to find a book, but Nancy knew where every title was. Keeping the system as it was helped her to feel closer to her lost father.

  At one end stood the counter and till, the small office and toilet behind it; and in one corner stood a grandfather clock, passed on by George Hunter’s father to his son, still ticking loudly and efficiently. On the walls were framed book covers – the greatest murder mysteries and detective stories of all time watching over them. And then, behind the counter, was a photo of her dad outside the bookshop on opening day, looking as proud as Punch. Nancy loved looking at that photo seeing him so happy, and the resemblance between them. From photos, it was clear she took after him and her grandmother, and not her absent mother, something she was relieved about. They all had the same green eyes but she was tall and slim like her father, and his father before him, whereas Jane was rather short and stocky if they were honest about it.

  Nancy took a bite of her sandwich and patted Charlie as he curled back up in his bed next to her. She grinned at her gran as they chewed their food in silence with Jonathan watching them, tapping his foot on the floor. Finally, she gave in. ‘Go on then, spit it out. What do you want to ask?’ she called over to him.

  ‘It’s about the Roth party. I mean, what a scoop! For the first time in years the Roths are opening up their house again and inviting some of the village inside. What’s it been – like, thirty years or something crazy like that? So, I need to be there to cover it.’ Jonathan worked at the local paper, the Cotswold Star, as features editor, and was always looking for an article that might liven up the newspaper. Unfortunately, they lived in a nice, safe area, which was pleasant to inhabit, but rather dull when your job was trying to find interesting stories. ‘When we heard that people in the village were starting to receive invitations, my editor Tony tried to secure me one but the Roths were firm – they may be opening up their doors to the village but not to the press.’

  ‘I don’t blame them,’ Jane remarked dryly.

  ‘I’ll choose to ignore that comment, Mrs H,’ he replied, turning again to Nancy. ‘But they did confirm to Tony that all business owners in the village have been invited and I saw Paul the Postie heading your way and he said all the invites have a plus one…’ he trailed off with a grin.

  ‘You shouldn’t call him that,’ Jane told him.

  ‘He likes it! Anyway, you have been invited, right? So, how about I escort you?’ he said to Nancy.

  She shook her head. ‘The last event you escorted me to was the Rotary Club’s Christmas party, and old Mr Andrew started rubbing my thigh,’ she recalled with a shudder.

  ‘Well, it’s not like you can’t handle yourself. If I remember rightly, you ended up pouring your drink all over him.’

  ‘He deserved it,’ Nancy replied.

  ‘Quite right,’ her grandmother agreed. ‘Anyway, what makes you think we’ll be accepting their invitation?’ She grinned at Nancy when Jonathan couldn’t see. They both enjoyed teasing him whenever possible. ‘I, for one, don’t want to be going anywhere with the weather like this,’ she added, gesturing to the sleet that was thickening into snow behind them.

  ‘It’s going to be the social event of the year, and I know you’ve always wanted to get a look inside that house of theirs,’ Jonathan replied, looking at Nancy.

  That was certainly true. Nancy had passed Roth Lodge every day on her walk to and from school, and she had always wanted to know what went on inside such a splendid home but, like the rest of the village, she had never been invited in until now. She sighed. ‘I can’t pretend I’m not curious. I would love to see inside. I still can’t quite believe they’ve invited the village. They never let any of us inside.’

  ‘They used to years ago,’ her grandmother said. ‘They would hold all sorts of events there but I haven’t seen inside those gates since their last garden party which, as you said Jonathan, must be about thirty years ago now. And that party will always stick in my mind, I can tell you.’ She looked around the bookshop. ‘If it’s still there, you would love their library, Nancy. It was a dream back then,’ she added, wistfully.

  ‘They are inviting everyone deemed important in the village,’ Jonathan said, clearly trying to flatter them both. ‘Tony said the member of staff he spoke to told him it was a rushed decision, apparently. Maria insisted despite their usual closed-door policy and I guess her
parents relented. I suppose she wants the whole world to know she’s getting married. That’s why the invites are so last minute.’

  ‘Well, after all these years, we can’t not go, can we, love?’

  ‘I think we’d regret it if we didn’t,’ Nancy agreed with Jane. ‘Although I have no idea what to wear to a black-tie party.’

  ‘We’ll find you something, I’m sure of it,’ Jane said, excited now. ‘I wonder who else will be there. I’m just going to ring Gloria now actually, to see if she’s had one too.’ She hurried into the office. There was nothing she loved better than being the source of exciting news.

  ‘So, what do you think? Can I tag along? I would have the exclusive scoop on the event if I could be there,’ Jonathan pleaded with Nancy once they were alone.

  She smiled, unable to hold out any longer. It really was too good an opportunity to miss. And it wasn’t as if her social calendar was anywhere near full. An engagement party at Roth Lodge a few weeks before Christmas would keep her entertained enough for months. And then she thought of another incentive. ‘You’ll need to wear a tux.’

  Jonathan sighed. ‘I hadn’t even thought of that. I suppose I’ll have to borrow Tony’s.’ His editor wasn’t much better at dressing than him but he’d had to invest in a tuxedo for a wedding. He checked his watch. ‘Right then, now it’s all settled, I’d better get back to the office. I need to read up on the Roth family, make sure I know who’s who, and think about what scandal we can uncover.’

  Nancy raised an eyebrow. ‘Scandal in Dedley End? You’re going to be disappointed.’ Everyone knew that nothing scandalous ever happened in their village.

  ‘Maybe. We’ll see. They have kept their doors shut for thirty years, but why?’

  ‘It was after that garden party Gran just mentioned. You’ll have to ask her for the details. I think she said something was stolen at it. Although if you listen to village rumour, it was anything from a police investigation into fraud, to them being part of the Illuminati.’

  ‘Well, it’s always the wealthy ones that have the biggest skeletons in the closet. I can promise you that.’ He stood up and walked to the door, pausing to give Charlie a farewell pat.