A Body in Seaview Grange Read online

  A Body in Seaview Grange

  An unputdownable cozy mystery novel

  Dee MacDonald

  Books by Dee MacDonald

  Kate Palmer Mystery Series

  A Body in the Village Hall

  A Body in Seaview Grange

  A Body at the Tea Rooms

  The Golden Oldies Guesthouse

  The Silver Ladies of Penny Lane

  The Getaway Girls

  The Runaway Wife

  AVAILABLE IN AUDIO

  Kate Palmer Series

  A Body in the Village Hall (Available in the UK and the US)

  A Body in the Seaview Grange (Available in the UK and the US)

  The Runaway Wife (Available in the UK and the US)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  A Body at the Tea Rooms

  Hear More from Dee

  Books by Dee MacDonald

  A Letter From Dee

  A Body in the Village Hall

  The Golden Oldies Guesthouse

  The Silver Ladies of Penny Lane

  The Getaway Girls

  The Runaway Wife

  Acknowledgements

  *

  One

  You needed to be over sixty years of age and have deep pockets to be able to buy one of the luxury flats in Seaview Grange, up on the cliffs near Higher Tinworthy. Kate Palmer didn’t qualify on age just yet, and her pockets were extremely shallow but she was nevertheless keen to see how the other half might be living.

  It was a beautiful sunny early September morning and Kate felt on top of the world, having just returned from Edinburgh for the birth of her first grandson. He was the most adorable, angelic infant ever born, with the possible exception of her own two handsome, perfect sons, of course.

  And now, here she was, driving up to Seaview Grange to see a lady called Edina Martinelli in Flat 4 who had recently broken her ankle and was complaining that the plaster felt too tight.

  Up until now Elaine, the nurse who split the week with Kate at the medical centre in Middle Tinworthy, had been doing most of the house calls. She was also assigned to ‘Assisted Living Care’ which meant she’d be the designated nurse to look after the residents of not only Seaview Grange, but also The Cedars and the Moorside Nursing Homes. She was shortly going to retire and Sue, who had worked there full time for years, was offered the calls. ‘Not on your life,’ said Sue. ‘Who wants to go visiting those decrepit old biddies? Not me, I’m staying right here. Down to you, Kate!’

  Kate didn’t mind at all. She loved getting out and about instead of being stuck in the treatment room all day. It was a good way to get to know people and there was normally a cup of tea or coffee on offer.

  ‘Good luck!’ Sue had called after her. ‘That Martinelli woman’s always complaining about something or other.’

  Seaview Grange was a large, imposing grey stone double-fronted building facing the Atlantic, one of many superior residences in the Higher Tinworthy area, set in what Kate reckoned must be around an acre of gardens, and with panoramic views of the sea and coastline. It was known to some of the locals as Gwel Teg, its original title being the Cornish for ‘beautiful view’ but since so many of the residents were incomers that had been watered down accordingly. There were neat little windblown flower beds and garden seats dotted here and there with no one sitting on them. Kate wondered briefly what the maintenance charges might be. High, undoubtedly.

  The large oak-panelled front door was ajar and led into a spacious hallway, stone-flagged and with a large royal blue centrally placed carpet. There was an impressive stone central staircase, also carpeted up the middle. An ornately carved mahogany table was situated on the right, on top of which were some bundles of mail, which the postman obviously left there for the residents to collect. What caught Kate’s attention, however, was the pair of stone figures on either end: a lighthouse and a tin-mine, both intricately carved out of what appeared to be serpentine. The Cornish serpentine, found on The Lizard peninsula, was normally green or multicoloured, but these items were predominantly red, which was more unusual.

  To the left was Flat 1, in the middle behind the staircase was Flat 2, and immediately on the right was Flat 3. Kate assumed Flat 4 was upstairs and, as she climbed up, she ran her fingers along the highly polished wooden bannister. Everything was immaculate: not a speck on the floor and an aroma of polish permeated the air. Didn’t people walk about in here? How come it was so spotless?

  When she rang the bell of Flat 4 the door was opened by a tall, slim elderly woman on elbow crutches. She was fully made up, her white hair piled on her head in an elegant chignon, and she was clad in a colourful, full-length kaftan. She wore several heavy gold chains, drop earrings (could they be real sapphires?) a collection of bracelets and rings galore. None of it looked cheap.

  ‘Mrs Martinelli? I’m Kate, the practice nurse, who’s taken over from Elaine. I’ve come to have a look at your ankle.’

  ‘I’m Miss Martinelli,’ the woman corrected. ‘I’ve always retained my professional name. Do come in.’ She hobbled ahead into the large open-plan room, furnished in traditional mahogany. What struck Kate more than the velvet sofas and elaborately draped curtains was the number of framed operatic posters on every wall: Aida; La traviata; Carmen; Il trovatore, and more.

  ‘Oh, I see you’re an opera fan,’ Kate said, laying her less-than-pristine bag down on the very pristine cream carpet and hoping it wasn’t going to leave a mark.

  ‘Fan!’ Edina Martinelli clutched her heaving bosom in horror, the left crutch dangling in the air. ‘I’m not a fan, darling, I’m a soprano!’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were a professional singer,’ Kate said.

  ‘Well, I’ve retired now of course but, in my time I sang with all the major opera companies, including D’Oyly Carte, English Opera, Covent Garden.’ She stopped for breath. ‘Fan, indeed!’

  ‘My apologies,’ Kate murmured again, ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘Well, you know now. And if you were any kind of opera aficionado you’d be well aware of the roles I sang. Anyway, you’re not here to discuss my career, you’re here to look at my poor ankle.’ She lowered herself onto a pink velvet chair and propped the ankle up on a matching footstool.

  Kate bent down and examined the plaster thoroughly. ‘To be honest, Miss Martinelli, it seems absolutely fine. It’s exactly as it should be and I’m sure you’ll get used to it.’

  The woman snorted. ‘Six weeks, they said. I shall be a prisoner in here for six weeks with a plaster cast that’s far too tight!’

  ‘Miss Martinelli,’ Kate began, ‘I know it might feel tight but it really isn’t—’

  ‘I’m wearing it and I say it is,’ Edina Martinelli interrupted. Then, in a change of tone, ‘Would you like a coffee?’ With that, she hobbled into t
he kitchen, jewellery jangling. ‘Give me a minute and I’ll warm up the pot. But you’ll have to pour it and carry it through.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Kate said. ‘Now tell me, is there anyone who can help you get down the stairs? It might cheer you up to sit in the garden and get some fresh air. It’s still very warm.’

  ‘I’m not going down any stairs until I am completely healed,’ Edina Martinelli snapped, ‘not after what happened to me.’ She sighed loudly and plonked herself down on the pink chair again. ‘You go and get the coffee. No milk or sugar for me.’

  Kate did as she was told. ‘What was the problem with the stairs?’ she asked.

  ‘What happened was that somebody – who could only have been Sharon the cleaner, although of course she denies all knowledge of it – somebody left the flex of the vacuum cleaner right across the top of the stairs and I did not see it. That’s the problem, of course, I walk tall and look straight ahead, always conscious of my deportment. And the next thing I know I’m tumbling down the stairs – and there’s a lot of them. It’s a wonder I didn’t break my neck because, you see, somebody wanted to kill me. I’m so lucky to have got away with just a broken ankle, and massive bruising, of course, but that was not the intention of my would-be killer. Somebody wishes to kill me, Nurse, mark my words!’

  ‘It must surely have been an accident?’ Kate said.

  ‘It was not an accident! It certainly would appear to be Sharon but, unlike some of the others round here, she had no real reason to wish me dead and she would be a convenient scapegoat. I can’t begin to tell you what some of these people are like.’

  ‘But surely none of them would want you dead?’ Kate said soothingly as she poured the coffee.

  ‘There are several who’d want me dead! I told the police, of course, but they didn’t listen. I know that somebody wants me dead. And I showed the police the note.’

  ‘What note?’ Kate asked.

  ‘The note that was pushed through my door. I wouldn’t call it a note exactly because it was printed from a computer, I think. Do you understand computers, Nurse?’

  ‘Well, technology is hardly my strong point but I’m familiar with most of the ordinary stuff,’ Kate replied.

  ‘I can’t abide the things. Nevertheless, I know if something’s been printed on a computer and this was.’

  Kate was enthralled. ‘What was?’

  ‘The note!’ Edina Martinelli looked at her as if she was an imbecile. ‘I told you, I had a note pushed through the door! I can show it to you if you’re interested. The police gave it back to me and I have it in my bedroom somewhere.’

  ‘What was written on the note, Miss Martinelli?’

  ‘I’ll tell you, Nurse, exactly what was written on it: “If you don’t stop that noise I’m going to have to find a way to silence you!” I gave the note to the police. I told them I was in mortal danger but did they care? Not one bit! As a result I don’t feel at all safe.’

  Kate, fascinated, digested this for a moment. ‘Who do you suspect then?’

  ‘Probably next door. He’s a writer of awful books! Simply dreadful books! But he seems to make a lot of money so I suppose someone must like reading about murder, and blood, and gore – because that is what he writes.’

  There was obviously an awful lot more to these residents than Kate could ever have imagined. ‘But surely he would just come to you and air his grievances, wouldn’t he? Why on earth would he put a note through your door?’

  ‘He came to the door on several occasions, but he wasn’t getting anywhere. I refuse to take orders from the likes of him. The man is a philistine; he has no appreciation of music at all. He probably thought that a mysterious, anonymous note would scare me and shut me up. But he doesn’t scare me and that’s the reason I went to the police.’

  ‘Surely you can’t be certain it’s him?’ Kate said.

  ‘But don’t you see? He’s a novelist! He uses a computer all the time. And he certainly wouldn’t want anyone to prove that it’s him by writing by hand.’

  ‘Couldn’t it have been anyone else?’ Kate asked, enthralled.

  ‘Well, I can tell you who it couldn’t have been rather than who it could have been. Edgar in Number 6 is a retired vicar, you know, so it couldn’t have been him. And he doesn’t possess a computer. He’s such a kind man, and we have dinner together often. And then there’s my dear friend, Hetty, in Number 1 downstairs. She wouldn’t harm a fly. And then there’s the Potter twins, two ancient old ladies who live next door to Hetty. Highly unlikely it would be either of them.’

  ‘So you have no idea who else might have written the note?’ Kate asked.

  Edina considered for a moment. ‘Well, there’s that common woman in Flat 3 who is insanely jealous, of course, because her husband does little jobs for me; he made these bookcases, aren’t they nice?’

  Kate agreed they were very nice.

  ‘He likes to escape and come up here. I’ve got him interested in opera, believe it or not. She’s only interested in stuffing her face with cakes. Have you seen them?’

  Kate admitted she hadn’t.

  ‘Anyway, I don’t want to take up any more of your time. But, believe me, someone out there would like to see me gone.’

  ‘I can understand how concerned you must be after receiving a note like that, but surely falling down the stairs must have been an accident?’

  Kate knew she would mull over this conversation later in the day but for now she should be concentrating on the purpose of her visit.

  ‘How are you coping with shopping and things?’ she asked, trying to remember to focus on Edina’s ankle.

  ‘Oh my friend Hetty’s been wonderful. She’s got me my shopping and my prescriptions and she brings up my ready meals which are delivered downstairs—’ At this point the doorbell rang.

  ‘Shall I answer it?’ Kate asked, carefully placing her coffee on a coaster on the elaborately carved side table.

  ‘If you would.’

  Kate opened the door to a pleasant-looking, middle-aged man with close-cut brown hair.

  ‘Is she there?’ he asked and, without waiting for an answer, edged his way into the room.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, David.’ Edina Martinelli spoke without enthusiasm.

  ‘Hello, Edina. Just thought I’d call in as I was passing but, if this isn’t a good time…’ He glanced in Kate’s direction.

  ‘The nurse has been here to attend to my poor ankle. What do you want? As if I didn’t know!’

  The man turned round to Kate and rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘She’s convinced somebody’s trying to do her in,’ he said with a sigh as he plonked himself on the pale blue sofa opposite.

  ‘This,’ Edina Martinelli said to Kate, ‘is my stepson, David Courtney. Believe me, no blood son of mine could have made such a mess of his affairs. Are you on the scrounge again, David dear?’

  David dear stared at her icily. ‘I’m after what is rightly mine.’

  Kate was beginning to feel uncomfortable in the midst of what was plainly some sort of family row. She drained her coffee cup. ‘I must go,’ she said, standing up. ‘I’ll just rinse out my cup first.’

  There was a chilly silence while she rinsed out the cup and then picked up her bag. ‘I’m sure you’ll get used to that cast, Miss Martinelli,’ she said, pointing at the ankle, ‘but I’ll come back to check it in a week or so. I’ll see myself out.’

  As Kate closed the door behind her she heard their conversation resume, voices raised, obviously arguing. She took a deep breath and headed down the stairs, first looking carefully to ensure there was no vacuum cleaner flex positioned across the top. Surely that had been an accident?

  Kate made her way out to the car and sat inside, with the window open, to write up her notes. She’d barely put pen to paper when she heard raised voices again. The man called David came storming out the front door, followed by a tiny old lady.

  ‘David!’ the old lady was shouting. ‘Don’t let her upset you! Ca
lm down! Come in and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

  ‘I don’t want a cup of tea, Hetty!’ he shouted back. ‘I just want that bitch to give me my money!’

  Kate registered that this then was Edina Martinelli’s great friend.

  ‘But, David, you shouldn’t drive when you’re so upset!’

  ‘Leave me alone!’ he yelled as he opened the door of a silver Audi which was parked in front of Kate’s red Fiat Punto. ‘You’re her friend – you’re always going to be on her side!’

  With that he got into the car, slammed the door and roared away, leaving the little lady standing there, looking bewildered and agitated.

  For a minute Kate wondered if she should get out and comfort this Hetty, but she turned and walked rapidly back inside. As she was about to drive away Kate noticed Hetty stumble on the doorstep, only stopping herself from falling flat by colliding with the door-post and then standing for a moment, her hand on her heart, appearing shaken.

  Feeling concerned, Kate switched off the ignition and walked quickly up to the door where the old lady stood, steadying herself and getting her breath back.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Kate asked anxiously.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she replied. ‘So silly of me not to look where I was going. I was rather upset, you see.’

  ‘You’re sure you’re all right?’