“Unfortunately, they could not narrow it beyond the Cotswolds. The only reason they knew it wasn’t from our grounds is because several years back, Harry’s husband Rob had new topsoil brought in. He turfed most of the garden areas, including around the dining hall kitchen. Our garden soil is an unusual find here in Oxfordshire, and the mud on the doormat didn’t match. Whoever turned up that morning and brushed their feet off before coming inside, came from outside our college walls.”
I mull over this information, surprised that Edward was willing to share anything with me without a direct order from Dr Radcliffe. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my new wellies, still crusted with mud from my morning adventures. “I don’t think we can exclude everyone from the college a priori.” I pick up my boots, waving them in the air. “Someone from within could have spent the day before out in the Cotswolds like I did. This clay is nearly impossible to get off without a scrub brush.”
“A priori? You surprise me with your vocabulary, Miss Payne. Pray tell, what were you doing in the Cotswolds in…” Edwards steps in to get a closer look at my boots. “In dog printed wellington boots?”
“If you must know, I spent the morning meeting our ex-veg vendor. I had a lovely chat, in fact.”
“Lovely? The veg vendor?” Edwards stares at me in confusion. “Our veg vendor?”
I look around to make sure I haven’t stumbled into a different dimension. “Yes, the family which used to provide all the local fruit and veg for the dining hall. I met Mrs Johnston this morning. Bit of a rough intro. But once she realised I wasn’t there to cause her more angst, she softened right up. She didn’t seem too sorry about Chef Smythe’s passing, but I can’t say I blame her. She said she was home the whole night before caring for her children.”
Edward’s face hardens into stone, his gaze searing into me. “Home the whole night? Were you out questioning her? Checking her alibi? You mustn’t meddle in police matters; you could cause more hassle than you know.”
Rolling my eyes, I scoff at the notion. “I wasn’t questioning her. We need a chef. I need vendors for the gala dinner. If she mentioned what she was doing the evening in question, that’s hardly my fault.”
Edward weighs up my response, unconvinced by my story but finding no further evidence to support his claim of meddling. “You didn’t meet Mr Johnston, by any chance? Perhaps gather his alibi?”
I shake my head no. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve had more than my fair share of encounters with Johnston. Blustery fellow, a right tosser, always shouting about at the local, creating arguments out of thin air. I have no notion why he comes into Oxford for his evening pint, perhaps he stops there on his way back home. He wouldn’t be much missed if he took his patronage elsewhere.”
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows and explain, “But Mrs Johnston was so lovely. You could see that she was genuinely broken up over the whole matter, from the fight with the chef to the abrupt end. She even remarked at how special St Margaret is to her family. She’s certainly keen to come back in as a supplier.”
“Be that as it may, the muddy doormat suggests someone came from beyond our walls. If it isn’t them, then it must be someone else coming in from the Cotswolds. Perhaps a gardening service or the milk delivery boy? A proper investigation by trained professionals will no doubt get to the bottom of the matter in the next few days.”
A few days? I can’t wait that long, not with the gala time clock ticking louder and louder. Now that I’ve discovered a clue to the magic mystery, it’s time to turn my full attention over to the search for the murderer.
Chapter Fifteen
I had promised Harry I’d return her car keys first thing in the morning. She’d gotten her husband Rob to pick her up after work and bring her in this morning, as we weren’t sure how long my errands would take. I head straight to her office, betting I can convince her to sneak away for a quick coffee before we each get to work.
H trails along behind me, putting on a good show of recovery after his stout-fest and a day of rest. I’d think his coming along was a sign of true companionship, but I know he’s only here this early hoping to get a sausage roll from the dining hall.
Knocking on the open doorway, I call out a greeting. “Morning, Harry. Are you up for a cheeky latte before we hit the grind?”
Harry is bent over her desk, shuffling furiously through a stack of papers, pencil gripped tightly between her teeth. It’s the first time I’ve come in to find anything less than spotless perfection.
“Whfhaft?” Her muffled words remind her to remove the pencil before trying to say anything else. “Sorry about that, Nat. What were you saying? Something about sneaking?”
“Not sneaking, Harry. I asked if you wanted a cheeky latte… a quick trip to the senior commons room?”
Harry surveys her paper-covered desk, file folders peeking from beneath the chaos. She tries to push the mountain into some kind of order before blowing her hair out of her face, shoving back her chair and standing up. “I’ve been staring at these documents for the last hour, and I’m no clearer on what they mean than when I started. So yes, I think a cheeky latte is absolutely in order. Let’s go.”
I chatter away as we walk to the senior common room, telling Harry about my visit with Mrs Johnston at the farm. Once inside, I fill the silence while we wait for the espresso machine to prepare our lattes, describing my new wellies in great detail. It isn’t until we’re back in the hallway, coffee mugs in hand, that I realise that
