“My husband is a good man,” I said to Reginald, “but he sometimes takes his knight in shining armor routine too far. Do I look like a wilting lily to you? I didn’t think so.” I touched a finger to Reginald’s snout. “I can’t wait to see his face when I turn up at the party, ready to dance the night away.”
Reginald seemed to approve of my plan. I smiled at him, but instead of reaching automatically for the blue journal, I sat at the old oak desk and opened Bill’s laptop. Will and Rob knew more about computers than I did, but I could at least search the Web.
I spent an hour tapping away at the keyboard and reading the words that appeared on the screen. I then closed the laptop, took the blue journal from its shelf, and opened it as I sat in one of the tall leather armchairs before the hearth.
“Dimity?” I said. I grimaced as the familiar lines of royal-blue ink curled across the page to form what had become an overly familiar question.
How are you feeling, my dear?
“I’m fine,” I replied forcefully. “Honestly, Dimity, Bill’s given everyone in Finch the impression that I’m at death’s door. I’ve spent the entire morning contradicting him.”
He cares about you, Lori.
“I know and it’s lovely,” I said, “but he has no right to tell Peter and Cassie that I won’t be at their homecoming party because I’m too weak and feeble to totter over to Anscombe Manor.”
I didn’t know Peter and Cassie were having a homecoming party.
“We have tons of catching up to do, Dimity,” I said. “Do you remember telling me to conduct an investigation? Well, I’ve been conducting one and I’ve collected masses of information, so get ready to be amazed.”
I shall brace myself.
“First,” I said, “Dabney Holdstrom is exactly who he says he is. He’s the editor-in-chief of Cozy Cookery magazine. Second, he grew up three miles south of Upper Deeping, in Skeaping village.”
Home of Skeaping Manor, the Cotswolds’ most horrid museum.
“That’s the place,” I said. “Dabney wasn’t born and raised in Finch and he wasn’t evacuated here during the war, which leads me to two conclusions.”
He isn’t granting wishes to the villagers because he has fond memories of Finch or because he owes the village a debt of gratitude for providing him or his family with a safe haven during the war.
“Correct,” I said. “People were evacuated to Skeaping, not from it. Also, Dabney Holdstrom had nothing to do with Peter and Cassie’s return to Anscombe Manor. They decided to come back after they got a letter from an old friend named Beverley St. John. Aunt Bev, as they call her, lives just outside of Upper Deeping and she keeps tabs on the home front for Peter. She told him Emma was dissatisfied with her job at the riding school.”
I see. Go on.
“Peter and Cassie had been out of work for six months when they received Aunt Bev’s letter,” I said. “They needed jobs and Emma had one she didn’t want, so . . . bingo! They came home.”
Beverley St. John brought Peter and Cassie home, not Dabney Holdstrom. Very well. Tell me more.
“Jasper admitted that Peggy did ask the wishing well to give her the tearoom,” I said. “She thought her wish had come true, but she was wrong.”
The tearoom isn’t for sale?
“No,” I said. “Peggy thought it was because it was listed on a flyer from the Troy real estate agency in Upper Deeping, but the Troy agency doesn’t exist. Jasper drove to the address in Upper Deeping and found a vacant storefront, and I came away empty-handed when I searched for it online. The flyer’s a fake, Dimity, and no one in Finch received it but Peggy. Our puppeteer used it to play a mean-spirited prank on Sally as well as Peggy.”
Sally Pyne seemed to believe that the tearoom was for sale.
“Sally hasn’t even spoken to her landlord about the sale,” I said. “She’s determined to prove to Peggy that she doesn’t need the tearoom because Henry’s going to be a big star. Only, Henry’s not going to be a big star.”
As you’ll recall, I never thought he would be.
“Henry agrees with you,” I said. “He has no intention of going back into show business. He wished for a last hoorah and that’s what he got. Dabney Holdstrom’s friend, Arty Barnes, offered Henry one performance, no more, and he didn’t do it as a favor to Dabney Holdstrom, but because he’s a talent scout for the comedy club’s owner, who happens to be Arty’s brother-in-law.”
Does Arty Barnes live in Upper Deeping?
“He does,” I said. “I looked him up online and he’s who he says he is—a small-time talent agent who lines up acts for his brother-in-law’s club. Jemma Renshawe’s publisher is for real, too. Market Town Books is a vanity press located in Upper Deeping. It’s owned by a guy named Gilbert Hartley, who is also editing the book about Cotswold villages.”
I believe a vanity press is used by writers willing to pay to have their books published.
“That’s right,” I said. “Someone must be awfully fond of Cotswold villages.”