“Pleased to meet you, Mrs Johnston. I know it’s unusual for the Head of Ceremonies to come chat you up, but given the circumstances, I’m having to take a hands-on approach to planning the catering for the gala.”
She shakes her head in commiseration. “I’ve heard that they’re struggling to find a replacement chef. You’ve got a right mess on your hands, haven’t you dearie?”
“That I do, but I’m guessing you must be feeling relief rather than more stress.” I cross my fingers behind my back and hope that she’ll talk on the topic.
“That woman was pure evil, always out to ruin someone. We’d had a long run with no issues, so it was just our turn in the draw. Mr Johnston was livid, determined to march over there and let her know how he felt about her fake complaints and broadcast email. I sent him off to the pub with his mates and stayed here to take care of the kids. I didn’t hear the news until the middle of the next day. Just as well he never made it there or else I imagine we’d be hearing from the police instead of you.”
“How many kids do you have, Mrs Johnston?” Maybe they wouldn’t have noticed if their mum slipped out to kill somebody.
“I’ve got four of them, youngest one only 4 and the oldest at uni. The little one was a surprise for us, nearly had one child out the door and along comes another one who is determined to never leave our bed.”
So much for that theory. Time to wrap this visit up before my wellies get any muddier.
“I have little sway over the hiring of the new chef, but I can select which vendors we’ll use for the gala. If it’s okay, I’d like to put your company back on the list.”
Mrs Johnston’s face lights up. “We’d love that. St Margaret has a special place in our hearts.”
Seeing her smile, I check if I can get anything else useful out of her. “While I’m here, you wouldn’t happen to know of any chefs or caterers who might be free on the evening of the gala?”
❖
Although I haven’t made progress in finding the murderer, at least I secured fruit and vegetables for the gala. Now if only I could find someone willing to prepare them.
I’ve exhausted all the obvious suspects within the college. Could the culprit have been an outsider? As far as I know, the police haven’t found evidence to show a break-in or failure in the security system. Surely one of the Eternals would have spotted a stranger walking the hallways. No, it must be someone we all know, but who?
My mind cycles through possibility after possibility as I let the sat nav tell me how to get to my next destination. The traffic queues provide plenty of time for me to come up with names and discard them just as quickly. Everyone seems to have had a reason to dislike Chef Smythe, but to kill her? Nothing obvious jumps out.
When I turn onto a smaller road, the speed limit drops to 20, causing me to sigh in relief. I wasn’t looking forward to everyone sounding their horns at me while I look for the entrance to the Arboretum which the sat nav shows floating in the middle of a field. When I spot a large sign, a quick right turn under a wooden archway puts me on a paved drive. Before I can celebrate, I slam on the brakes. For a peacock. I can’t say that H didn’t warn me.
When my heart beats again, I navigate my way through the people and birds milling around the carpark until I nab a free space. I tromp back through the mud to the hut that is doubling as a welcome centre and pay the entrance fee. Map in hand, I’m ready to check the perimeter.
I gaze around, spotting a fence off in the distance. “Great, that doesn’t look too far. I should have this wrapped up in no time.”
I follow the path until I reach the fence line, which doesn’t turn out to be the end of the Arboretum. “How big is this place?” I wonder aloud as I unfold the map. Skimming down, I find the information section. “Formerly 8 acres, the park has grown to encompass 130 acres outside of Oxford… 130 ACRES!”
It’s time to call in reinforcements.
After fishing my mobile out of my bag, I scroll through my contacts until I track down the one I need. Our longest serving prefect is my only hope. It rings and rings, but Kate finally answers.
“Hi Nat. How’s it going? Does H have a sore head today?”
“Hi Kate. Yes, poor H. Sore head doesn’t begin to cover it. And as soon as he recovers, his pocketbook will be hurting. He owes me a pair of shoes.”
“Blech! Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad Mathilde and I left when we did.”
“Haha, yes, you’re lucky you missed our walk home. But enough about that disaster. I need some help.” I barely get the words out before a peacock screeches, startling me.
“Help? Where are you and why does it sound like someone is screaming behind you? Oh my, are you okay, Nat? Nat?”
I can hear Kate’s voice calling out from my phone in my hand, but I’m too busy waving furiously, trying to frighten off an aggressive bird. When it literally turns tail and saunters off, I wipe the sweat from my forehead before lifting the phone to my ear. “Sorry, Kate, didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m fine. That’s not a woman screaming, it’s a peacock.”
“Peacock?” Confusion colours Kate’s voice. “Seriously Nat, where are you?”
Leaning my back against the fence post, I position myself so I will get plenty of warning of any other approaching fowl. “H and I had a theory there might be something wrong with the magical border around
