Page 4 of The Dead Come to Stay
“Anyway,” Tula insisted, pulling the warming cover over her delicacies. “It’s our first fete in ages. Sutton—from the poulterers, you know him—is bringing the generator; the cider house should be there, crafters. I ain’t about to run out of eatables.”
Judging from the number of tents ordered, it was going to be an honest to god circus up there. It caused a worrying clench in Jo’s guts. “Fete, fallow, fiduciary,” she whispered on repeat. All she had to do was cut a ribbon; Roberta Wilkinson promised to do the talking. And Gwilym, who was vying for the role ofneurodivergent Watson to Jo’s Sherlock, would be there, too. He’d booked his room about six months ago.
Tula signaled to Ben, steered Jo and the meat cart, and they were off on the first delivery trip.
There would be four of those, in the end, partly because Tula’s Scout had the guns to get uphill well laden, and Sutton’s delivery cart did not. Jo walked the green in her wellies; crushed gravel steamed in spring sunshine and temperatures promised to rise. White party tents glistened where Ardemore’s circular drive had been, a combination market, fair and celebration.
Even the local vintner had a table, sporting cowslip wine. Which wasn’t wine at all, but a fermented concoction of yellow petals and sugar (and sometimes brandy). Jo made a slight face; recalling thatcowslipactually referred to the manure the flowers grew within. It took the romance right out of it. She settled on the tea tent instead, ordered black with milk and perched on a folding plastic chair. In the shadow of the tent flap, she could watch the general goings-on without being the center of attention.
“If I may say, you look conspiratorial.”
Jo looked up to see Emery Lane, an acquaintance who worked at the Abington solicitor’s office, in a white-and-blue suit, sporting a pink bow tie and boater hat. But he didn’t look like an assistant to the town solicitor. He looked like—
“Luncheon of the Boating Party,” she finished out loud.
Emery smiled under his pencil mustache. “Renoir?” he asked. “Very good.”
“Sorry. But it’s perfect—you could be painted in front of the garden terrace!”
“I was afraid you were going to say you discovered yet another unknown painting in Abington,” he said, taking the seat next to her. “Speaking of which. How is your Augustus John original?”
“Evelyn is presiding over my living room magisterially,” Jo said, blowing on her tea. “Is Rupert coming?”
“He is.” Emery half hid behind his teacup. “But I am guessing that isn’t who you’re waiting for?”
“I’m not waiting for anyone.”
“Not even James MacAdams, over there?” Emery asked, looking over her head.
“He’s here?” Jo swiveled in place, but didnotsee a rumpled-looking detective. Instead, she saw only a vest-clad, hill-walking Welshman with a ginger man-bun.
Behind her, Emery chuckled.
“My mistake,” he said innocently. “Hello, Gwilym!”
“Emery!” Gwilym gave the man an enthusiastic handshake that almost turned into a hug, but when he turned to Jo, the smile went lopsided. “Erm, I have some news—and I don’t think you’ll like it.”
Jo gave Gwilym a look. No conversation shouldeverstart like that. Especially not today. Jo braced herself, but Gwilym’s attention had already been diverted. He took Emery’s seat and cast his eyes at the tea tent’s baked goods.
“Scones and clotted cream!” he announced.
“Bad news, you said,” Jo reminded him. She could already guess. MacAdams wasn’t going to be there; he’d told Tula, who told Gwilym, who took it upon himself to—
“It’s Roberta,” he said.
Jo heart pancaked against her sternum.
“Oh my God. Is she all right?” she asked, half rising in her seat. Roberta might be stalwart and stern, but she wasalsoelderly and—
“What? Yes! Oh, yes—she’sall right. It’s just that she found a body on her way here and had to call the police to handle it, so she might be running late to the garden ceremony.”
Jo sat down again, hard. So far, this had been a deeply unfair chain of emotional stimulants. She blinked, opened her mouth, then shut it again. Gwilym kept talking.
“Since she’s been delayed, she thought you could give theopening remarks. I mean, you were the one who found the garden plans—”
“A body. Like, adeadbody?” Jo interrupted.
“Yes?”
