Foxes and Fatal Attraction: Mystery (Madigan Amos Zoo Mysteries Book 9) Page 3

When we drove down a quaint private lane, and then onto a vast gravel parking area, Tiff told me that we were going to be shown around by the owner of the estate agency themselves. Apparently top money got you top brass giving you the tour when it came to house buying.

  “This place is vast!” I commented, looking up at the beautiful red-brick building. It was clearly a period property, but I could tell that a lot of work had been done to renovate and presumably modernise the old place. It wasn’t too far off the size of mine and Auryn’s house. “I know you’ve got your animals to think of, Tiff, but you could probably have about nine kids and still be rattling around in this place,” I joked.

  “Well, maybe one day,” my best friend said with a hopeful smile.

  I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything more. Tiff and I had never really discussed having children - probably because she knew that I was more keen on animals than tiny humans. It was only now that I regretted not asking her before.

  I felt another pang of nerves for Tiff. She was plotting the perfect life - a big house and a beautiful wedding. I hoped that her vision of the future came true, I really did.

  “Oh!” Tiff said when another car pulled up behind ours.

  I turned and discovered it was a rather humble looking Polo. A harried looking young man got out of the car, his linen suit already irreversibly crumpled. He reached back into the car and dragged out a huge ring binder that seemed to be struggling to contain all of the paper inside of it. My hypothesis proved to be all too correct when the man gave a yell of dismay. Paper slid hither thither all over the gravel as the clips holding everything together finally gave up the ghost. Tiff and I hurried to his aid.

  “Thank you,” he said, repeating it a few times as we helped him to gather the scattered papers. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I’m Ashley. I know you were supposed to have Mr Herriot - Tristan - showing you around today, but he’s been caught up in some urgent business. I’m here to open up and show you around, but I’m sure he’ll be here in no time at all…” The clearly junior estate agent craned his neck down the lane and then nearly dropped the whole stack of paper for the second time. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, gathering it all together. He looked down at the jumbled pile and decided to give up, opening the car door again and bunging the lot on the backseat.

  “Shall we?” he asked, brightly.

  It only took Ashley three attempts to find the right key for the front door. Once inside, he told us all about what a lovely period property it was with all these wonderful old features including some very high ceilings. I could tell Tiff felt just as sorry as I did for the put-upon young man, who was quite clearly terrified of having to deal with the kind of demanding client, who presumably tended to command the sort of budget Tiff had. That was how we came to all stare up and comment on the ceilings, probably looking like complete loonies. It definitely tickled me to think that the people whose house it was we were looking at had probably never looked at their ceilings for half the time we did.

  After some hesitation, Ashley seemed to remember that the master bedroom was a particularly big selling point of the property. Even as we walked up the stairs, he was casting glances back towards the front door, obviously praying that his boss would soon walk in and rescue him.

  But he was going to have to deal with a lot worse than unexpected clients.

  He was so distracted that Tiff inclined her head questioningly at the door we both assumed led to the master-bedroom. I quietly rolled my eyes heavenwards at her and then pushed the door open, letting us into the main selling point of the house.

  The room was certainly striking, but it wasn’t the size of the room or the cupboard space that commanded immediate attention. It was the dead man spread out on the bed which really drew the eye.

  “Oh my gosh!” Tiff exclaimed and immediately ran out of the room.

  “Yes, the ceilings are hard to believe, aren’t they?” Ashley said, walking in to join me and then grinding to a halt. He said a few words that I knew for a fact would get him kicked out of estate-agenting if anyone else had heard him say them. Given the situation, I gave him a free pass.

  “That’s Harry Farley from Farley and Sons Estate Agency,” a deep voice came from behind me. I turned to see a well-dressed man with stunning silver hair and a manner that spoke of calmness and authority standing in the bedroom doorway. I vaguely recognised him from somewhere.

  I hadn’t actually needed an introduction to the corpse on the bed. Harry and I had met before. I couldn’t say that I’d particularly liked the man during our first and only conversation together, but I was still sorry to see him this way.

  “Do you think he’s dead?” Ashley piped up from behind us, looking as white as a sheet. I spared a thought to wonder how Tiff was doing and then heard the front door slam.

  When no one else moved, I took a couple of steps forwards and laid a hand on Harry Farley’s neck. As I did so, I noticed the livid purple mark across his throat and realised I’d probably just stumbled upon the cause of death. The ice cold skin and complete lack of pulse rather confirmed it, not that any confirmation had been needed. The smell of death in the room was evidence enough that Harry Farley had been stewing here for a little while.

  “Dead,” I told the new arrival.

  He nodded and looked grave. It was with a jolt that I was able to place him. He’d been at the Lords of the Downs meeting I’d attended with Auryn. Harry Farley had been a member of the same exclusive gentleman’s club. That’s two members who have been murdered in as many months! I thought, before I quashed it in favour of more practical things. I might find the premise of the club distasteful, but there were other things to think about right now.

  “Call the police,” I said, turning to face Ashley, who stood staring at the body, caught in some morbid fascination.

  “Do it now,” the other man in the room instructed his employee when he looked set to keep staring.

  When he was gone the silver-haired man looked at me and I saw the same recognition in his eyes. “We should probably leave, too. There’s nothing good in here.”

  I nodded but cast a glance back at the body all the same. Poor dead Harry Farley. He’d been left spreadeagled and bound using rope that had been tied in some elaborate knots. There was other paraphernalia all over the room and Harry’s clothes were strewn around the place, too, but my eyes kept coming back to the knots, as if their intricacy would distract me from the horror that lay on the bed.

  I felt a hand rest on my shoulder.

  “Come on, Madi. Let’s go,” the man said, and I allowed myself to be led from the room. While it was true that I’d witnessed my fair share of horror, there was still nothing that could prepare you for how awful it was to find someone who’d had their life forcefully extinguished - as I was almost certain had happened to Harry Farley.

  “It hardly seems the time, but I’m Tristan Herriot. I can’t express how aggrieved I am that you and Miss Tiffany Wallace had the unhappy experience you had today, and I really hope you’ll give us an opportunity to rectify this situation,” the silver-haired man said once we were safely back outside on the gravel. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

  I nodded, not even caring that he was somehow together enough to be giving me the sales spiel. I was just trying to keep my breakfast down.

  It wasn’t long before the police arrived. We all gave brief statements before being instructed to wait for the detective to arrive. To my surprise, Tiff looked troubled and muttered something about not wanting him to see her. I did my best to comfort her and tell her that her fiancé would surely understand why she was upset and might not be looking her best. Auryn had seen me sans-makeup and at my worst before we’d ended up together, but despite her assurances that Alex Gregory was the one, their relationship was still relatively new. At least - I assumed that was why she was worrying. If it was for a different reason, then there was surely something she wasn’t telling me about Detective Alex Gregory.

  “I can�
��t see him… not now,” she repeated, but I couldn’t find any further words of comfort for her.

  It wasn’t long until the detective himself arrived. He got out of the car and rushed over to Tiff, looking her over anxiously before pulling back and visibly trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. I found it made me like him more.

  “This is so terrible,” Tristan Herriot said, once the detective had been filled in on what we’d found and taken a look for himself. “My agency was sharing the keys with Farley and Sons, Blanky Country Houses, and another local agent - Tims and Hammond. It was a hassle, but it’s what the owners of the house asked for. They don’t want several sets of keys floating around the place, I believe.” Tristan arched his eyebrows to show what he thought of their lack of trust. “The keys were back with us this morning, which is how Ashley was able to let these two lovely women in.” The mature estate agent turned to Tiff and I noticed his eyes soften, the way most men’s eyes did when they saw Tiff.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who saw it.

  Detective Gregory’s face turned to stone. “You knew the deceased, didn’t you?” the detective said, addressing the estate agent with steel in his voice.

  “We went out riding together from time to time. Someone’s got to keep the vermin in check, haven’t they?” the estate agent said with a knowing grin at the detective.

  I took a moment to marvel at how badly Tristan Herriot had misread the situation before what he’d actually said struck home. I remembered thinking that Harry Farley’s horse was the sort known as a hunter, but I hadn’t imagined he’d used it for anything other than cross country. Auryn had mentioned in the past that some of the people he’d grown up with hunted foxes - in direct defiance of the laws of the land - but I’d hoped I would never actually meet any of the perpetrators.

  “Madi here knew him too, didn’t you?” Tristan ploughed on, still oblivious to the bad feeling he was inspiring in our little group. I winced at his over-familiarity with my name. Fame sure did come with its own set of disadvantages.

  “Not really. We met once when I was looking for a lost dog,” I explained, meeting Detective Gregory’s gaze when I said it. He would know exactly which dog I was referring to.

  The detective sighed as quietly as he was able, but I still heard it. Today, and Tristan Herriot, was already wearing on him. “Would any of you happen to know whether or not the deceased had a spouse or a partner?”

  I shook my head. I’d got friendly with Harry’s ex-wife, Georgina Farley the lawyer, when she’d been working for Scarlett Marsden after the murder of her husband, Timmy. Georgina hadn’t mentioned whether or not he’d married again.

  “Oh, yes. The old boy was married. He shacked up with one of the girls working at Farley and Sons. They got hitched a year or so ago, if memory serves me right.” He shook his head. “She must have played an excellent hand to win that game.”

  I found that I liked Tristan Herriot about as much as I’d liked the victim.

  Detective Gregory called one of his officers over and instructed them to try to contact Felicity Farley. Then he turned back to us with a blank expression, asked a few more basic questions, and then excused himself as quickly as humanly possible. Even the presence of his distraught wife-to-be couldn’t persuade him to stay in the presence of Tristan Herriot any longer.

  I rather thought I understood.

  I was finally getting close to the end of my next Monday’s Menagerie published volume when I heard the front door slam. After returning from the failed house-hunting expedition, I’d decided to get stuck into some work and had discovered, to my surprise, that my productivity soared when I was actively trying to avoid dwelling on horrific, messy murder.

  Auryn tore into my comic-writing room. “Tiff came into work and told me you found a body in a house you were looking round. Are you okay?”

  I turned and gave him what I hoped was an ‘I’m okay’ smile. “I’m fine, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Harry Farley.”

  Auryn’s eyes widened. “It was his body you found? Tiff didn’t say much, and I didn’t want to push her.”

  I nodded grimly. “It was him. Although, he’d definitely seen better days.” I thought about the strange way the body had been displayed on the bed, in some final humiliation. “I’d like to say that at least he died having a nice time, but to be honest, I’ve no idea what I saw.” I briefly covered the horrible scene, finding it somehow soothing to share the worst of it with someone else. The police had instructed us to keep the details of what we’d seen under our hats, but when it came to Auryn, I was more than willing to bend a few rules.

  “I can’t believe it. Harry wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea for sure, but it’s not as if that was a new development. He’s been a bit of an ass ever since I knew him.”

  “It looked like strangulation.” I thought about it, picking up on a detail from memory. “There was a dog collar and lead. Perhaps that was how it happened?” All of this terrible talk was making my skin crawl. “Anyway, it might not even be murder. Accidents happen,” I said and then cleared my throat, embarrassed. I really didn’t want to think too much further on this line of thought.

  “The police will work it out.” Auryn said, suddenly going all vague. He’d clearly thought of something, but wasn’t voicing it.

  I decided to change the subject. “Auryn… do you know why Georgina is still using Harry’s last name?”

  “Hmmm, I think I do. Her reputation as a lawyer grew while they were together. I believe she used to do some of the legal stuff for Harry’s estate agency. From a business point of view, her clients would know her with that name. From a personal perspective, I think she just wanted to take something from Harry when they ended things.”

  “How well do you know Tristan Herriot?” I asked.

  Auryn’s expression was instantly wary, but I didn’t have a chance to enquire further because the doorbell rang. My fiancé had evidently brought Rameses back home with him because I heard the clink of his paws as he went to silently enquire who it might be that was paying him a visit.

  Auryn left the room in a remarkable hurry, leaving me to trail after him to the door.

  “Hi Tiff, we were just talking about you,” he told my best friend with a smile. There was an uncomfortable pause as Auryn was given the impression that Tiff wanted to speak to me… and in private.

  I moved forwards and my fiancé backed off, claiming he’d go and make us all some cups of tea. I shot him an appreciative glance as he walked back towards the kitchen. Then I went to see what was troubling my friend.

  “Madi, it’s just awful. I don’t know what to do!” Tiff began once we were safely instated in the soft silence of our little-used lounge. I cast an anxious glance at some of the dust bunnies who’d taken up residence under the furniture and hoped that my guest wasn’t feeling too observant today. Things like that really caught up on you!

  “I know. What happened to Harry was terrible. I hope they find whoever did it,” I agreed.

  For a very brief moment Tiff looked surprised before she covered it up. “Of course, yes,” she said, but I knew my best friend. She hadn’t been talking about finding Harry Farley’s body.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, figuring it was the best way to get to the bottom of this new mystery.

  Tiff wrung her hands for a bit, turning to look out of the large bay window that gazed out across our recently tidied grounds and the new stable summerhouse before she returned her gaze to me. “I’m pregnant,” she announced.

  I felt my jaw drop open before I hastily shut it again. We were both adults and I’d already guessed earlier today that Tiff’s mind was on a future family, hadn’t I?

  “That’s great news… isn’t it?” I added when my friend looked glum.

  “I hope it is,” she said and then sighed. “I haven’t told Alex yet. I’m worried that it’s too soon and he’ll run off. Then where will I be? To make matters worse, I’m not even sure…”
She trailed off, but I made the jump of logic required to work out what she was implying.

  Tiff wasn’t sure who the father of the baby was.

  2

  Fowl Play

  Oh, Tiff! Weren’t you careful?” I’d always thought my best friend was nothing but sensible.

  “Of course I was! I’ve no idea how it happened. I think…” she bit her lip “…I think it’s far more likely to be Alex’s, but there’s still that tiny seed of doubt, and it’s just growing and growing. I don’t know what to do. What if he calls the marriage off?”

  “That’s why you’ve moved the wedding sooner, isn’t it?” I said, filling in all the gaps. “It wasn’t Alex who wanted it to be quick, it was you.” I shot her a sympathy filled look. “You’ve got to tell him. I guarantee that it will make you feel better. It’s the right thing to do - no matter what the outcome is. You can’t push the marriage forward and hope he decides to stick it out. You know that’s not right.”

  “I know, I do know, Madi, I swear,” she said with tears filling her eyes. “I just don’t know what I’d do if he left me. I love him. I really do.”

  “I know,” I said. Of that much I was now certain. “No matter what happens, you will be fine. You’ve done brilliantly on your own for years, and this will be no different. But I’m sure that won’t even be something to worry about. No man in their right mind would walk away from marrying you,” I told her fiercely, meaning every word I said.

  “I really hope you’re right.” Even though she sounded doubtful, I noticed that a little smile had crept onto Tiff’s lovely face. I sensed that the worst part was over. Even though I assumed Tiff hadn’t been shouldering this burden for long, it had clearly worn on her.

  “You’ll tell him then?”

  “Yes, right away.” She hesitated. “Well, when I next see him. He’ll be busy with this new horrible death of course. And then I’ll just be adding to his stress! Oh dear…”