Read A Vicky Hill Exclusive! Online

Authors: Hannah Dennison

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Women Sleuths

A Vicky Hill Exclusive! (37 page)

BOOK: A Vicky Hill Exclusive!
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I was glad to hear Dave agreed to take my advice and turned witness for the prosecution. The
Gazette
even gave him a little publicity to help with his legal fees:

 

BLACKMAIL!
EVERY OLYMPIC ATHLETE’S NIGHTMARE!

 

‘How did you know those flowers could induce fatal heart attacks?’ Topaz said, pointing to a photograph of a bank of foxgloves I’d snapped in Rumble Lane suitably captioned:
BOUQUET OF DEATH
. ‘I have
so
much to learn.’

‘It was an easy guess.’ I still had the original coroner’s report in my drawer. With Brian dead, and Sharpe abroad, there were some things the police were better off not knowing. Besides, as long as justice was done, did it really matter?

‘Then, of course, traces were found in the wine bottle left at Hugh’s Folly,’ I went on. When confronted with the evidence, Mrs Poultry confessed to poisoning Sir Hugh and Topaz’s aunt. Their bodies were to be exhumed on Monday.

‘I could have sworn Lady Trewallyn was the killer,’ Topaz said.

‘That’s exactly what Mrs Poultry wanted people to think.’ Under intense interrogation, Mrs Poultry admitted she knew of Katherine Vanderkamp’s marriage to a famed African anthropologist, so seized upon the idea of using voodoo to frame her. Unfortunately, my landlady hadn’t bargained on the Salome Steel phenomenon where it seemed every man and his dog were making poppets and mutilating chickens.

‘I suppose you’ll be giving up the cafe now,’ I said hopefully. Lady Trewallyn’s marriage had been annulled, leaving Topaz to inherit the country estate.

‘Oh no! I’m going to rent The Grange to a farmer.’ Topaz reached across the table and squeezed my hand. ‘Don’t worry, Vicky. My place is right here at The Kettle. I
love
being undercover.’

‘But surely it’s too dangerous?’ I said horrified. ‘Whatever will your cousin say?’

‘Colin thinks it’s a frightfully good idea,’ she said. ‘Funny about
her
, though.’ Topaz gestured to the
Gazette
across the street. Barbara stood in the window replacing her
Voodoo Vixens
banner with a stuffed life-size horse. ‘I could have sworn she was up to something with that large pot and scary-looking man.’ Topaz giggled. ‘Perhaps he was her toy boy!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said, embarrassed that I’d thought the same.

I’d let slip that I’d heard Salome Steel had moved to Cornwall. Like all locals, no one was interested in an event south of the River Tamar. Fortunately Barbara perked up when Wilf approved her new window proposal – the Gipping Bards’ Christmas production of
Equus
.

A silver Saab 9-3 convertible pulled up outside The Kettle. Doctor Frost got out and went round to open the passenger door. Annabel emerged, dressed in a rust-coloured Juicy Couture tracksuit with Ugg sheepskin boots. She wore dark sunglasses and leaned heavily on a walking cane.
Blast!
I should have known my day was going too well.

‘Oh look! It’s Annabel Lake!’ squealed Topaz, rapping smartly on the window. Annabel peered in our direction and grimaced. In a flash, Topaz darted off in the direction of the front door, leaving me to witness the repulsive spectacle of Annabel giving Doctor Frost a deep French kiss.

To my dismay, Topaz reappeared in the High Street, grabbed Annabel’s arm, and made her wave it in my direction.

Seconds later, Annabel – wincing with pain – was propelled towards my table and forced to sit down.

‘Here’s Vicky!’ cried Topaz.

‘Glad to see you’re up and about,’ I said, marvelling at how Annabel turned being an invalid into a fashion statement.

‘Doctor Frost is giving me his summer cottage until next May,’ said Annabel. ‘It’s got an Aga.’

‘Oh, who cares about Agas?’ Topaz exclaimed. ‘Isn’t Vicky clever? Catching a serial killer! Solving the biggest silver mystery ever!’

‘Frankly, Topaz,’ Annabel snapped, ‘I can’t believe Vicky didn’t suspect her landlady in the first place. For heaven’s sake, the silver was in the basement.’

‘Actually, it was kept in the Folly,’ I said, pointing to page four where a photograph of Hugh’s Folly was accompanied by the caption:
LOVE NEST OF LOOT
. ‘Mrs Poultry mistakenly believed Lady Trewallyn was selling the Folly to Devon Satellite Bell,’ I went on. ‘She had to move it
somewhere
.’

Annabel went quiet. A peculiar look came over her face. ‘Damn! I should have guessed! You
idiot
, Annabel!’

‘Bad luck,’ Topaz chipped in, throwing me a triumphant look. ‘Vicky got there first.’

Annabel turned on me, eyes flashing. ‘And I bet I know what else you got to first!’

I felt my face redden and tried to change the subject. ‘Topaz, how about some more tea?’

‘Coming right up,
boss
. Topaz fluttered away as Annabel rose unsteadily to her feet. She was trembling with rage.

‘I
know
there were two coroner’s reports!’ she cried. ‘You stole from me! This scoop should have been mine!’

I recalled my hidden wristwatch, Annabel’s patronizing manner, and nasty, snide comments.

‘It’s just business,’ I said with an apologetic smile. ‘As you said, journalism is tough, tough,
tough
but we can still be friends.’

‘You’ve got some
nerve
!’ And with that, Annabel hobbled out of the cafe.

Topaz returned with a mug of tea. ‘Where did she go?’

Suddenly, my mobile rang. Thanks to Devon Satellite Bell merging with West Country Wireless, Gipping now had crystal clear phone reception – and Sky TV. Topaz snatched the mobile out of my grasp.

‘Vicky Hill’s office,’ she said, listening intensely to the chirping on the other end of the line. Covering the receiver with her hand, she rolled her eyes and whispered, ‘It’s that dreadful Ronnie Binns. Says he’s found something at the tip. Shall I take a message?’

‘Tell him I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’

Topaz gave him the message and said good-bye. She turned to me in surprise. ‘Didn’t he sell that stupid alien-chicken-garbologist-nightmare story to the
Bugle
?’

‘An investigative journalist must always have an open mind and explore every lead,’ I said firmly.

I left The Copper Kettle with a spring in my step. The future had never looked brighter. I had a promotion, a front-page scoop, and informers galore. In a few months I’d even be able to buy a car.

My smile faltered a little – there was still the issue of my inconvenient virginity but perhaps that was for the best. As an investigative reporter on a quest for fame and fortune, the last thing I wanted was to be tied down.

My thoughts turned to my parents in Spain. Lucky me to have reaped the benefit of their experiences – from Mum’s insights on love and relationships to Dad’s philosophies on business ethics.

Dad always says the world doesn’t owe anyone a living and it was up to me to make mine, which was exactly what I planned to do. Gipping was full of secrets just waiting to be discovered. Somehow, I just
knew
I was a whisker away from my next
VICKY HILL EXCLUSIVE
!

BOOK: A Vicky Hill Exclusive!
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