Midsomer Maiden |1| The Trials of Midsomer

19. Tainted Fruit

In an old cottage in Midsomer Malham with a leaky roof, the elderly Neil Laxton was lying tucked up in bed, being tended to by the district nurse. When Joan Farley entered, breathless, Sally shook her head sadly. "He's gone."

"I know he's gone," Joan agreed, narrowing her eyes. "And we all know who killed him."

***

"So how old's this Melissa Townsend, then?" Gavin asked in lieu of paying attention to the road as he, Tom and Freddie drove toward Midsomer Malham.

"Twenty-two," Tom replied.

Gavin's eyebrows shot up. "Bit young, isn't it? Even Freddie's older than that."

"Oi!" said Freddie, indignant, from the back. "I'm only three years younger than you, thank you very much!"

"And yet the pair of you have the disposition of a couple of squabbling three year olds," Tom said, shaking his head. "Anyway, her father wanted her to get used to the responsibilities of property ownership early on. Seems she didn't do much in the way of maintenance."

"She passed the first landlord's exam then," Gavin joked. Just then, a car came round the bend on the right side of the road. This would have been fine, were it not for Gavin's propensity for frankly alarming driving—as it was, both parties narrowly avoided ended up in a ditch as they swerved to a halt.

Freddie sighed as her heart made its almost daily voyage back down out of her throat. "Gav, would it kill you to not write off my car today?"

The driver of the other car got out, and so did the detectives, Gavin looking rather sheepish. "I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, this is Detective Sergeant Troy and Detective Constable Bullard."

"Huh. I thought you chaps were supposed to know how to drive," remarked the other man, checking his car for damage to the bright red paintwork.

"And your name is?"

"Frederick Bentine-Brown. And I'd like to know where to write my letter of complaint."

At that, Freddie's eyes narrowed. "Well, you've certainly every right to do so, of course. It may interest you, however, to know that we have grounds to charge you with dangerous driving, the speed you came around that corner at. Now, we happen to be rather busy at the moment, sir, and so I presume are you, so why don't you just climb back into your motor car and continue with a little more care, hmm? And let us continue with our investigations."

Bentine-Brown hesitated. Then, under the expectant gazes of three detectives who clearly had no intentions of indulging a posh boy tantrum, he huffed, getting back into his car. "Wouldn't want to keep you from your crime-busting. Somebody stolen a lawn mower, have they?"

They watched him drive away with varying degrees of relief. "Troy," said Tom, "If you're going to drive innocent members of the public off the road, try not to pick on influential multimillionaires, will you?"

***

Later, they had managed to get to their destination with little more delay and were now reading through a series of death threats that had been sent to Melissa Townsend. Not that she seemed particularly concerned about it—it was her father, Archie Townsend, who had called them in.

"'If Neil dies before the roof is fixed, you'll follow him close behind,'" Freddie read aloud, then raised her eyebrows. "Well, you're right, Mr. Townsend, I'd say whoever wrote this isn't especially fond of your daughter."

"Those two were sent before old Neil croaked," Townsend explained, then pointed to the one Gavin was holding. "The 'no better than an animal' one arrived this morning."