Mistletoe Mystery (4 page)

“I don’t think I can afford it. We’ll just have to make do.”

“We could ask some of our friends who work behind the scenes
in television,” Meg suggested. “There must be loads of desks left over from
Grange Hill.”

“There’s no time to do it before the weekend,” said Philly,
“but we’ll look at that option before the guests arrive. It would be great,
because we want the story to be realistic. I know what to do! We could have the
guests as extra schoolchildren. Hunt down some old lesson plans from the
fifties. There must be some online. There’d be some fun in that and it would
fill in some of the plot, to give the story realism.”

“I agree!” said Meg. “See, you are good at this.”

“The only trouble is,” said Puck, “this was a girl’s school.
Might be difficult to know what to do with any male guests who come for the
weekend.”

“Oh we could gloss over that and make it unisex for the
purposes of the story,” said Philly. “It doesn’t really matter too much, since
we’re making it all up anyway. But that does give me another idea. What if we
involve the guests properly? Not just as visiting sleuths, but as people in the
story. Once we know who’s coming, we could write a part for them. They won’t
have to remember any lines. We’ll just tell them who or what they’re supposed
to be and let them improvise. To keep it simple, and so we don’t get confused,
they can use their own names. We could even let one of them be the murderer, so
that they all suspect each other. I bet they’d love that. And it’ll help us get
over the problem of not having enough actors.”

“Genius!” said Puck.

“Absolutely!” said Meg.

They thrashed out the details whilst they finished preparing
the house. By the time Friday evening came they were exhausted, but happy.

Matt arrived just before dinner, driving a sleek black Mercedes,
and looking every bit as handsome as Philly remembered. She had spent the week
trying to convince herself that she would not be as attracted to him on their
second meeting. The flip her heart did on seeing him belied that notion.

“Okay,” said Puck, after the introductions were made. “You
were right, Philly. He’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

Philly poked him in the ribs, whilst Matt smiled. “What else
has she been saying about me?”

“Oh” said Meg, “that you’ll break her heart. But we’re here
to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I have a feeling I should be very scared,” said Matt.

“You should,” said Puck. Philly got the impression that
neither of her friends were joking.

“Right,” said Philly, “can we stop the Godfather stuff now
and just enjoy ourselves. Matt, you don’t mind if we order food in, do you?
We’ve been working hard all week.”

“That’s fine by me.”

“Chinese?”

“Chinese is perfect. What have you all been up to?”

Philly told him about their plans as she showed him around the
house. Meg and Puck had tactfully made themselves scarce.

“It should be alright,” she said, doubtfully. “I mean it was
about fifty years ago, so we shouldn’t be hurting anyone, should we? Even if
Dominique was still alive, she’d be in her mid to late sixties, so her parents
would be long dead or at least extremely old.”

“Oh sure, yeah,” said Matt. “It’s strange, isn’t it, that no
one ever came forward?”

“Yes. It’s almost as if she didn’t exist. Except she did,
because there are pictures of her online. She’s a favourite on all those
unsolved crime websites. There are all sorts of conspiracy theories. We’re
going with the spy angle.”

“A schoolgirl spy, hey? Sounds good. This house is great,
Philly. No wonder you fight so hard to keep it.”

“I love it. It’s the only home I’ve ever known. Or at least
the only home I remember. I don’t recall much about where I lived with mum and
dad. I get the feeling we moved around a lot, as I have vague recollections of
different houses and flats. I’ll show you around outside tomorrow, if you
want.”

“That would be great.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. There’s a film crew coming. You
don’t have to be on telly if you don’t want to though.”

“I’d rather not be. Besides, this is your project.”

“Mine, Meg’s and Puck’s.”

“They seem like good people.”

“They are good people. They’re my family now.”

They had arrived at the drawing room. “These pictures are
interesting,” said Matt. “Where did you get them from?” He pointed to some
paintings of family scenes. They looked vaguely Dutch to Philly, although she
did not know where she got that impression.

“The attic. There’s loads more up there.”

“Really? Are they originals?”

“I doubt it. I don’t even recognise half the artist’s names.
Sadly there are no Van Gogh’s or Holbein’s hanging about the place. I haven’t
heard back from your friend about the Robespierre painting yet.”

“These things take time,” said Matt. “Don’t worry,
Sebastian’s legit.”

“Oh I’m sure he is. I wasn’t suggesting…”

“No, I know you weren’t, Philly.” He turned to face her, putting
his hands on her shoulders. “It is good to see you again.”

“You too…”

Matt pulled her towards him, and gave her a long, lingering
kiss. “Very, very good to see you,” he whispered. “Today couldn’t come quick
enough for me.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

There was the sound of a car horn outside. “That’ll be the
food,” she said, pulling away. He stopped her and, drawing her back into his
arms, kissed her again.

Dinner was a lively affair. Matt seemed to very quickly pick
up on the quirky sense of humour shared by the three friends, and joined in
easily. It helped Philly to relax more. She had been eager for Meg and Puck to
like him, and it seemed to her that they did.

“Philly says your family are in insurance,” said Puck.
“Expensive stuff.”

“That’s right. Ships, yachts, works of art. You name it, we
insure it. We even insured an athlete’s legs for ten million bucks not long
back.”

“Wow,” said Meg. “That’d be some pay day if he ever trips
over a paving stone.”

Matt laughed. “To get the full pay out, the paving stone
would have to remove his legs from his body.”

“There are streets just like that in some parts of Britain,”
said Puck. Everyone laughed, and a conversation ensued where everyone had a
story to tell about knowing someone who made a fortune for breaking a toenail
on government property.

“So when are you having this Mistletoe and Mystery weekend?”
asked Matt.

“A couple of weeks before Christmas,” said Philly.

“Oh, that reminds me,” said Puck. “Tony called while you were
showing Matt around the house. He can’t make it that weekend. He’s got a proper
gig on a television drama. So we don’t have a headmaster.”

“Oh no,” said Philly.

“A headmaster?” said Matt.

“Yes,” said Philly. “Tony was going to play the headmaster,
but he was also going to be the master of ceremonies. You know, explaining to
everyone what’s what when they arrive. Can’t you do it, Puck?”

“I’m cooking dinner on the first night, remember?”

“Oh yes. Puck is the only one amongst us who can really
cook,” Philly explained to Matt.

“That’s why I keep him around,” said Meg. “Pity though. Tony
was perfect. He has this really authoritarian voice, like Patrick Stewart as
Jean Luc Picard. Make it so,” she added in a deep voice.

“Could I do it?” said Matt. “I don’t sound like Patrick
Stewart, but I did a bit of acting in school. I think I could manage to be a
headmaster. And you Brits love an American accent, right?”

“Mmm,” said Meg, smiling. “I think a lot of the female
guests will gladly suspend disbelief when they see you, Matt.”

Puck frowned, but grinned widely when she blew him a
placatory kiss.

“You … you’d really want to?” said Philly.

“Yeah, I’d love it. You guys make it sound like so much fun.
Not that I want to push myself forward. I realise you hardly know me. But I’m
yours if you want me. I promise I come really cheap. A Chinese meal and a kiss
from Philly will be payment enough.” Philly hardly knew how to answer that.
“Just tell me what I have to do,” said Matt, when no one replied.

“It’s simple really,” said Philly. “There’s no real script,
just an outline. You greet the guests, then there’s some health and safety
stuff you need to do, then you explain the nature of the game. We can tell you
all that before the day. As long as you get the basics right, you can improvise
as much as you like.”

“But you can’t be the murderer,” said Puck. “We’re saving
that honour for one of the guests.”

“Damn,” said Matt with a grin. “I really wanted to be an
evil headmaster. I could have based him on the one at my school.”

“We can make you evil in some other way,” said Philly.
“Everyone will need at least one motive.”

The details were thrashed out over coffee and fortune
cookies.

Later, Philly showed Matt to his room.

“Where’s your room?” he asked, when they reached his bedroom
door.

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell you that yet.”

“Things moving a little bit too quickly for you?”

“Yes, a little.”

“That’s fine,” said Matt, pulling her into his arms and
kissing her again. “I can wait. I’m kinda tired anyway. I had a great night
tonight.”

“Yes, me too.” Philly had been delighted by how well he fit
in with her friends. It meant a lot to her that Meg and Puck liked him. “If
you’re cold there’s an extra blanket in the wardrobe. This is a draughty old
place this time of year.”

“I feel pretty warm at the moment,” said Matt, pulling her
closer still.

“I won’t be in the wardrobe,” Philly said, laughing.

“Pity.”

“Goodnight.” She managed to extricate herself from his
embrace, albeit reluctantly.

Later that night, when she was laying in bed, unable to
sleep because her thoughts were full of Matt, Philly thought she heard
footsteps on the floor above her. There was no reason for anyone to go up
there. None of the bedrooms was habitable. They were either empty or full of
junk. She intended to renovate them at some point, when her finances improved.

She crept out of bed and put on her dressing gown, opening
the door the hallway. She did not bother with the lights, as she had walked the
hallway lots of times and her bedroom light cast a glow for part of the way.
Tiptoeing to the junction of the stairs, Philly listened for any noise, but it
had gone quiet. She decided she must have imagined it.

Turning, she screamed when she bumped into a solid, warm body.
She recognised him by his cologne.

“Oh, Matt, you scared the life out of me. What are you
doing?”

“I went down for a drink of water and got lost on the way
back to my bedroom. This place is like a maze. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare
you.”

“That’s okay.” Philly took a deep breath, trying to slow
down her heart rate. “Your room is that way.” She pointed to the right hand
corridor. “Second door on the left.”

“Oh yeah, easy when you know how. Goodnight.” He kissed her
lightly on the lips.

She watched him walk back to his bedroom with a frown on her
face. Actually his bedroom was easy to find. She had made sure of that when she
chose it. Plus each room had a small hand basin with a clean glass, so a trip
downstairs for water was not necessary.

Had Matt been creeping around upstairs? And if so, why?

Chapter Four

Philly spent a sleepless night worrying about Matt. What had
she been thinking inviting a perfect stranger to stay in her house for the
weekend? True he was handsome and charming, and he kissed like a dream, but
what did she really know about him?

Her infatuation had got the better of her. Now she really
did wonder if he were some sort of conman. All she knew about him was what he
had told her. At around two in the morning she got out of bed and fetched her
laptop from the dressing table. She would do what all self-respecting paranoid
people did in modern times. She would Google him.

A search for Matt Cassell turned up several Facebook pages,
a couple of Twitter accounts, and finally a company called
Cassell &
Keep
. True to his word, Matt was pictured on the company page as one of the
directors. His father, who was a very handsome older version of Matt, was
pictured above him. Perhaps, she thought, her imagination running riot as
usual, he set up the webpage because he knew she would look for it. But there
were also pictures of Matt and his father with celebrities and other high
profile clients, some dated several years earlier. Unless the photographs had
been mocked up, she doubted it was all thrown together in a few days. Unless he
had a long running swindle going and the website was part of that. But if that
were the case, he was telling people how to find him. The contact page gave the
company address, and when Philly did a search for that, it was listed in
several directories as genuinely belonging to
Cassell & Keep
.

Unless the people he conned were too ashamed to come
forward. She had read about lonely women preyed upon by handsome young men, and
divested of their cash and other belongings. But she had made it clear to Matt
that she had no money. Perhaps he did not believe her, because she owned
Bedlington Hall. She had been approached by a few property developers,
interested in buying up the land. It would have made her life much easier, but
having promised her godmother never to sell, she had refused them all. Did Matt
hope to seduce her into selling up?

There had to be more to it than that. He had latched on to
her when she bumped into him on the steps of the auction house. When he had
seen the Robespierre painting! Was that the reason? Could it be worth more than
she thought? It was possible Matt thought there were other similar paintings in
the house. She began to wonder if he and Sebastian were involved in some sort
of scam, unknown to the respected auction house.