Chapter Seventeen

 

 

“WHAT WAS wrong with having coffee in your kitchen?” Jonathon asked as they pushed open the door to the tea shop. “Or is this just your sweet tooth talking?”

Mike swatted him on the backside. “Philistine. There’s a reason Rachel wins prizes at the fete for her baking. And if I feel like having a slice of her carrot cake, neither you nor anyone else in this village is gonna stop me.”

“Whoa. Far be it from me to come between a man and his sugar fix.” Jonathon smiled. “Besides, it’s good to get out of the pub now and again.” Maybe the change of scenery would help his deductive powers, because they certainly needed it. The lilies research had so far turned up only one name of interest, and Jonathon had added Sarah Deeping to his list, not that there was anything else to link her to Dominic’s death. Still, they only had Trevor’s word that she didn’t know about the affair. As far as other possible suspects went, Jonathon was beginning to think they’d exhausted every avenue. Unless, of course, there were more skeletons waiting to fall out of Dominic’s closet….

Rachel beamed as they entered. “Hey, guys. Good to see you. Have a seat and I’ll be over to take your order.”

Jonathon pointed to an empty table, and they sat down. The tea shop was already more than half full, and considering it was only ten o’clock, Jonathon wondered if this was normal. From all around them came the buzz of low voices, and judging by the odd word he caught, the topic of conversation was Dominic—and Trevor.

“Looks like the news has already hit the village grapevine,” he whispered to Mike. He glanced at the other patrons, conscious of both pointed and less obvious looks in his direction.

“Yeah.” Mike didn’t look happy. “And you can bet they’re really making a meal out of the whole they-were-secret-lovers aspect. Not that it’s any of their business.”

“I guess you’ve heard, huh?” Rachel bent over and lowered her voice. “It’s all anyone’s been talking about since I opened. You’d think the village had never known a bigger scandal.” She shook her head. “It’s poor Sarah I feel sorry for. What she must be feeling right now, knowing everyone is talking about them. It must have been bad enough knowing it was going on, without Trevor getting arrested.”

Jonathon blinked, and his stomach clenched. “But… did she even know about the affair? Trevor says not.”

Rachel huffed. “Sorry, but I don’t believe that. A woman generally knows if her husband is cheating on her. It’s like some sixth sense. And now it all clicks into place.”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked.

Rachel took a swift look around the tea shop before lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. “A couple of months ago, maybe April, I was walking through the village, and I saw Dominic’s Land Rover parked off Mill Lane. Sarah was with him, and they appeared to be arguing. Okay, so the rain was really lashing down, but I recognized her. I’d never seen her look so… angry. Come to think of it, Dominic looked furious too. Anyway, once the news broke this morning, I got to thinking about that day. I couldn’t help but wonder what they were arguing about.” She sighed. “Okay, enough gossip. What would you like?”

They ordered coffee and two slices of cake. Once Rachel had walked away from their table, Jonathon edged his chair closer to Mike’s. “So much for Trevor saying she had no contact with Dominic,” he murmured.

“If Rachel’s right,” Mike said quietly, “and I don’t see any reason to doubt her—then we might have another suspect to add to the list.”

Jonathon sighed. “I’d already added her, after we found out about the lilies.” His belly felt queasy. “You think Trevor got it wrong? That Sarah did know about the affair?”

“It’s possible, isn’t it? I mean, ten years? They had to have at least one slipup in ten years. Something that gave the game away. So let’s think about it for a minute. Sarah finds out. Does she confront Trevor? Well, we know she didn’t, so that leaves confronting Dominic. Maybe they were arguing because she was telling him to put an end to the affair and Dominic was refusing.”

“So she goes up to the manor house, gets into a big fight, pushes him, and accidentally kills him?” Jonathon considered the idea. “She’d have to be really strong to shove him hard enough to crack his ribs.”

“Hell hath no fury, and all that,” Mike said sagely. “And supposing she’d been gardening just before? That would account for the lily pollen, wouldn’t it?” Mike shook his head. “That sounds like a long shot to me, but I suppose it could’ve happened like that. Well, the police can’t take her in for questioning without evidence, and I don’t think Rachel’s memory of seeing them on a rainy day in his Land Rover would be enough.”

Jonathon shivered. It was hard to believe that just a week previously, he’d arrived in the village, looking forward to spending time with Dominic, feeling carefree and happy.

“Hey.” Mike’s hand covered his. “You okay?” Concern laced his voice.

“Just thinking about how everything has changed in the space of one week.” Then, he’d been thinking about his Vietnam trip, his next book….

“Did you mean what you said to Melinda? That you’re going to live here in Merrychurch?”

Jonathon nodded. “It makes sense. But just because I live in the manor does not mean I have to conform to my father’s wishes.”

Mike chuckled. “I didn’t believe for a second that you would. But what about his argument that you’re the last of the de Mountfords? Who will inherit after you?”

“Christ, Mike. I’m not even in the hall yet and you’re already planning who gets it after I snuff it?” Jonathon snickered. “And as for who inherits… there’s this wonderful thing out there called ‘adoption.’ Ever heard of it?” He grinned. “I’ll get married—because heaven forbid there be a scandal touching the family, involving a gay couple living ‘out of wedlock’—and then we’ll adopt.”

Mike laughed. “You’ve got it all planned out, haven’t you? Have you even got a would-be husband waiting in the wings somewhere?”

Jonathon smiled. “I haven’t planned that far ahead. But I’m not going to hide who I am.” Sorrow flowed through him. “Dominic did that, and look where it got him.”

“You don’t know that’s what happened,” Mike reasoned, his fingers curling around Jonathon’s. The intimate gesture warmed him.

“No, but so far, it’s the most likely scenario, isn’t it?”

“I can’t deny that.” Mike’s expression seemed to reflect his own sorrow. He straightened, releasing Jonathon’s hand as Rachel approached, and Jonathon missed his warm touch instantly. Then he wondered why Mike had severed their connection.

Is he protecting my reputation, or his?

Jonathon was more than capable of standing up for himself, and in the light of recent events, he didn’t want to hide anymore.

 

 

JONATHON LAY on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Mike was downstairs, getting the pub ready to open. It wasn’t that Jonathon was feeling lazy; it was just that he’d wanted a little time to himself. Because being around Mike? Big distraction….

He knew he’d be lying to himself if he said Mike hadn’t entered the equation when it came to his plans to move into the manor. Not that Mike was his primary motivation—that, he was sure of—but yeah, he’d thought about the fact that Mike would be his neighbor. His very attractive neighbor. And part of him badly wanted Mike to feel the same way.

The sound of feet thudding up the stairs had him sitting up abruptly. The door flung open and Mike came into the room in a hurry.

“The shit has just hit the fan,” he said breathlessly.

“What? What’s happened?”

“Graham called. They’ve arrested Sarah Deeping.”

Jonathon was off the bed in a heartbeat. “On what evidence?”

“The tech guys going over Dominic’s computer found deleted emails—God knows why he deleted them, but there you go—where Sarah threatened him that if he didn’t end the affair, she’d out him to the village—and his family.”

“Fuck!” Jonathon gaped at him. “So that’s it? Has she confessed?”

Mike shook his head. “She says she didn’t do it but can’t prove where she was when he died. The police think she felt that without Dominic in the picture, Trevor would return to ‘normal.’” He air-quoted.

Jonathon huffed. “Yeah, like that would work.”

“So now they have both her and Trevor for the same crime. And get this—Gorland isn’t prepared to release Trevor just yet.”

Jonathon rolled his eyes. “Well, they couldn’t have both done it.” The sound of the church bell drifted through his open window, and he stared at Mike. “Er, excuse me? Don’t you have a pub to open?”

“Bloody hell.” Mike dashed out of the room and thundered down the stairs.

Jonathon followed, albeit at a more sedate pace. He wasn’t about to get complacent. He’d believe Sarah killed Dominic when a jury sent her down for it, and not before. However, the emails, the lilies, Rachel seeing her arguing with Dominic… Jonathon couldn’t deny it was all starting to look more and more likely that she’d done it.

 

 

“THIS FOR the game.” Sebastian aimed his dart, launched it, and then grinned when it landed firmly on the board. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner.”

Jonathon snickered. “Are curates allowed to gloat? Whatever happened to humility?”

Sebastian laughed. “There speaks a sore loser. And speaking of which, the loser buys the next round, correct?” He collected his darts from the board and slipped them into their black case.

Jonathon had to admit, it was the most relaxed evening he’d spent since he’d arrived in the village. Sebastian had arrived at nine, in an obviously good mood, and had been bubbly all night. Maybe that was due to the fact that he’d won every one of their five games. Jonathon had no problem acknowledging he’d been outclassed.

“Okay, okay. Another pint of Landlord’s?”

Sebastian nodded. “And a packet of cheese and onion crisps, please.” His eyes sparkled. “Winning makes me peckish.”

Jonathon let out a groan. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you? You’re going to keep reminding me until Mike throws you out at closing time.”

Sebastian laughed. “Yup. Now where’s my beer?”

Jonathon shook his head, chuckling, and went over to where Mike was serving.

“Enjoying your night off?” Mike asked with a smile. “He seems to be in a good mood.”

“Three guesses why. He’s a bloody good darts player. Evidence of a misspent youth, if you ask me,” Jonathon grumbled. “Two more pints of Landlord’s, please, and a couple of packets of cheese and onion crisps.”

“Sure.” Mike grabbed clean glasses from above the bar. He nodded in Sebastian’s direction. “He seems to have loosened up a lot.”

“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” Maybe Melinda was right all along. All Sebastian needed was someone nearer his own age, someone he could relate to.

He carried the glasses over to where Sebastian sat, the corners of the crisp packets between his teeth. Sebastian chuckled and got to his feet to help him out. When they were both seated, Sebastian took a long drink of beer and let out a sigh.

“Can’t remember the last time I did this.”

“Then isn’t it a good thing that I asked you?” Jonathon raised his glass. “To the winner.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They clinked glasses.

“Did you always want to go into the church?”

Sebastian shook his head. “My father was a vicar, but I never thought I’d follow in his footsteps. Then when he retired, about five years ago, I started thinking about it. I went to Bible college, the same one that he attended. He wanted me to take over his parish, but that was too daunting. I wanted to start somewhere smaller. Then he found out St. Mary’s was looking for a curate. And the rest is history.” He took a drink from his glass.

“You did it to please him, didn’t you?”

Sebastian paused, his eyes wide. “Very perceptive. Yes, I did. When I was younger, all I wanted was to be a science teacher. Science has always fascinated me. I was your total geek when I was at school.”

“I suppose you’re still a teacher, of sorts,” Jonathon reasoned.

Sebastian nodded. “True enough. I figured once I’d done a year or two, I’d know if I wanted to continue or not. So far, I’m enjoying it, although I had no idea I’d have to do so many different things.”

“Such as?”

Sebastian laughed. “I’m the general dogsbody around there. I get to do everything.” He began to count off on his fingers. “Let’s start with the obvious bits. I get to preach—only once a month so far, but the work it takes to get a sermon ready is nobody’s business. I visit sick parishioners and those who can’t get to the services. Then there’s the church building. You name it, I do it—choosing the hymns, arranging the flowers, cleaning the candlesticks on the altar, tidying up the kneelers after the service….”

Jonathon laughed. “Busy man.”

“Yes, but you know what? Anything else would be boring, and I’m never bored.” He paused, studying Jonathon. “And your life is anything but boring.”

“Ah. Are we talking about my travels?”

Sebastian nodded. “You’ve got a great eye for a fantastic shot. But to have the freedom to do all that—the traveling, the means to do it—I envy that.”

Jonathon tut-tutted. “And there you go again, displaying very un-curate-like qualities.”

Sebastian smiled. “You’re right, of course. Maybe I’m not such a good curate after all.”

“What would you do instead?”

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed. “Who knows? None of us know exactly what’s around the corner, do we? Life is full of surprises.”

“Jonathon? You got a minute?”

Sebastian inclined his head in the direction of Mike’s voice. “Looks like your night off might be coming to a premature end. Mike’s got a lot of customers over there.”

Jonathon twisted around to see. “Damn. Where did they all come from?” He got up from his chair. “Sorry to do this, but—”

“No, no, it’s okay. Mike obviously needs some help over there. Thanks for the games. I’m going to finish this pint. Then I’ll get off home.” Sebastian looked at his watch. “Besides, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Already way past my usual bedtime.” He grinned.

Jonathon laughed. “Yeah, right. Melinda’s told me about you burning the midnight oil, so pull the other one.” He held out his hand. “Thanks for this evening. I really enjoyed it.”

Sebastian smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“Jonathon!”

“Oops.” Jonathon left him and dove behind the bar. “Okay, I’m here now. What do you want me to do?”

“Three pints for that guy over there, please.” Mike shook his head. “Why do they always descend just before last orders, as though Prohibition is about to be declared?”

Jonathon got on with pulling the pints, thankful that Mike had shown him how to do it properly; the last thing he wanted was someone getting shitty with him because the head on their pint was all wrong.

For the next twenty minutes, he poured drinks, pulled pints, and chatted with the locals that he was already coming to know. Sebastian gave him a friendly wave as he left, which Jonathon returned. Then it was right back to serving drinks.

“What’re you doin’ behind that bar?” the guy in front of Jonathon slurred.

“Pouring your pint,” Jonathon said good-naturedly.

“Yeah, I can see that, but why’re you doin’ it? You’re the fuckin’ lord of the manor, ain’t ya? Not like you need the bleedin’ work, right?” He looked around him for support from his fellow drinkers, but they shied away from him. He glared and returned his attention to Jonathon. “Bloody de Mountfords. Think they own the whole bleedin’ village. An’ then they turn out to be a bloody poofter. Jus’ shows, you can never tell.” He peered at Jonathon, leaning over the bartop, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Are you one of ’em too?”

Before Jonathon could think of a suitable response, Mike was around the bar. He grabbed the drunk by the arms and led him toward the door. “You’ve had more than enough for one night, Saul. And if you mouth off like that again in my pub, I’ll bar you. Understood?” Without waiting for Saul to reply, Mike propelled him through the door and closed it after him. He walked back into the pub, rubbing his hands together briskly. “Right. Anyone else got anything to add?” He waited for a moment. “What, no more comments? Then I’m calling time.” He went to the bar and rang the bell. “Drink up, ladies and gents.”

Jonathon gaped. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Mike gazed at him frankly. “My pub, my rules. Saul Putnam has an axe to grind, by the way. He’s one of those tenants who were given eviction notices. So now you know why he was so pissed off.”

“Never mind why he was pissed. You don’t have to protect me. I’ve traveled all over the world, Mike. I can look after myself.” Jonathon didn’t know whether he was annoyed or touched.

Mike said nothing but pressed his lips together.

When the final customer had gone, Mike gave the bar one last glance. “I’ll clear up in the morning. I’m not in the mood to do it now.” And with that he flicked off the lights, leaving Jonathon standing there in the semidarkness while he headed for the stairs.

What the hell?

Jonathon followed him, taking two steps at a time. “Mike, wait!”

Mike carried on climbing the stairs, his back stiff. By the time Jonathon reached the top, he was already at his bedroom door.

“Mike, stop!”

Mike paused, his hand on the open door, and looked at him. “Yeah?”

Jonathon walked across the landing to where he stood. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

Mike regarded him in silence for a moment, then let out a sigh. “What you said a while ago, about not needing me to protect you.”

“Yes?” For some reason the hairs on Jonathon’s arms were standing on end.

“What if I want to protect you?” Mike’s voice was low and deep. And before Jonathon could reply, Mike pulled him into his arms and their lips met in a gentle kiss.

Jonathon closed his eyes and molded his body to Mike’s, losing himself in the unexpected but totally welcome kiss that made him almost dizzy with its duration.

When they parted, both slightly breathless, Mike cupped Jonathon’s chin. “You’re sleeping in my bed tonight. Unless you have any objection to that?”

Jonathon gave himself up to the heat that surged through him. “None whatsoever,” he said firmly.

Mike smiled. “Thank God.” He took Jonathon’s hand, led him into his bedroom, and closed the door behind them.