Sinister Secrets of Hanover Farms: An Angela Morton Mystery, #2

By Lucinda D. Davis

You've never met Bernice Peabody-Wells? Be thankful because she's in a class of caustic all by herself and she's just dodged a poison bullet.

She lives in fading palatial grandeur at Hanover Farm, her late father's once famous horse racing stable just outside of beautiful Saratoga Springs, New York.

But something evil is lurking amongst the walls and gardens of the beloved farm: Fay, the long-suffering housekeeper shows up in odd places, ghost-like figures haunt the gardens at night, and her estranged and aggravating sister Esther has roared back into her life. But there is something not quite right about her!  To top it off, there's the small matter of the poisoning attempt!

The shadow of doom lurks closer each day!

It will take tall, attractive Angela Morton; avid camper, low-key detective, and owner of a broken heart, along with the dark and handsome Nathan Swale, Lake Placid Police forensics expert, to see what others cannot in a world where old world values and lifestyles collide with new age skullduggery and greed in one of America's most beautiful towns.

But as Angela and Nathan dive into the world of a bygone era, they discover that the old family house and farm hold more than a few secrets and more than a few suspects who will stop at nothing to keep the truth from leaking out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lucinda D. Davis
• Release date: Jan 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386883951

Lucinda D. Davis

About the Author Lucinda D. Davis has been reading and loving mystery stories since she was old enough to haunt the narrow rows of books at the small Quebec, Canada village library where she spent her summers. After decades of penning ad copy, marketing, and writing for horse sport magazines, she decided to do what people had been telling her to do for years: write some books! She presently lives in a small hamlet on the beautiful Rideau Canal in Ontario, Canada. Her living room view looks out over the locks and waterways. This idyllic setting replete with friends, and more than a few interesting characters inspired her Boddington Bay series of short 'coffee break' cozy mysteries. Her longer Coppin's Lock series brings England to the Canadian countryside! The stories introduce readers to a trendy town in Ontario, Canada that could have been plucked from the English landscape, quirky characters included! Take the essential and quintessential British tea shop, pub and antique shop, throw in two female sleuths, add a Police Chief left shaking his head and you've got the ideal cozy mystery. While the girls may roam from home from time to time, their hearts are firmly set in Coppin's Locks! Visit her website at http://www.lucindadavisauthor.com and Like her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Lucinda-D-Davis-637648859641784/

Book preview

The Sinister Secrets

of

Hanover Farm

LUCINDA D. DAVIS

PUBLISHED BY

LUCINDA D. DAVIS

COPYRIGHT@2018

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent of the copyright owner, and publisher of this book. 

Thanks to L.A Waugh for her thoughts and insight.

Go camping, they said.

You’ll have fun, they said.

Catch a killer, they said.

And she did!

Prologue

Bernice Peabody-Wells sat up with a start and looked at her bedside clock. 3:00 a.m.  Floating clouds obscured the summer moon and a light breeze drifted through her bedroom as she gazed out her tall floor to ceiling windows.

Was she going mad?

Did she have the beginnings of dementia?

The screeches and screams she frequently heard were inhuman, like an animal in pain or distress.  And despite her poor eyesight, at night she often she saw a ghost-like apparition moving amongst the tall maple trees and bushes in the backyard flower gardens.

Finally, her heart stopped thumping in her chest, she lay back on her bed and tried to calm her breathing.

Outside, not fifteen feet from the house, a tall figure wrapped in a long white diaphanous robe looked up at Bernice’s second floor bedroom window before disappearing into the pitch-black night.

It was the witching hour and evil was afoot.

Chapter One

Avid camper, hiker and cyclist, Angela Morton, signed her camping reservation form on the dotted line, helped herself to a campsite map and turned to leave the Hanover Farm Campsite Welcome Center.

Your site, as requested is as close to the estate as I can get you, said Anne Watt, campground owner and manager. There’s about a half-acre of lawn, fruit trees and flowering shrubs separating you from the main house of Hanover Farm. Just don’t trespass. The owner, Bernice is very particular about that and she’ll have the cops after you in seconds.

Angela smiled to herself, thanked the woman and left. Back in the office Anne picked up her walkie talkie, winced at the crackling and spoke, James there’s a single female who might need some help setting up her tent. She’s at site 57G so go ‘round to help her. She’s tall with long red hair. You can’t miss her. She probably can’t hammer in a tent peg without help.

Not far from the office, Angela turned into Sparrow Lane searching for campsite 57G and noticed the ‘No Trespassing’ signs nailed onto a white fence on her left. She pulled into her campsite, got out and gazed at four tall white columns on the front of a large house that would have been right at home in a southern antebellum estate. Thirty minutes later, thanks to years of practice, her tent was up, and her site organized.

Need some help?  I’m James Watt by the way, said a voice behind her. She turned around to see a middle-aged man in a golf cart stopped on the road. She was about to say she didn’t need any assistance, but the small sign on his windscreen, ‘James Watt-Manager’ made her reconsider.

I am pretty well finished thanks but since you are here, you might be able to answer my question, why is your campground so close to a famous estate?

Good question. Well, my wife Anne and I own the campground. She’s on the front desk today so you’ll have met her already. Anyway, long story short, about ten years ago my father left me some money so Anne and I decided to invest in a retirement project. The Hanover Farm estate had been a famous horse racing stable in its day, but the owners didn’t need 400 acres anymore. Anne and I leased 150 acres, put a lot of money and work into them and called it Hanover Farm Campground. We now pay an annual rental fee to the estate.

Sounds great, a good retirement project.

Works well, but I know that the annual rental doesn’t go as far as it used to the way finances and interest rates are these days.

Why do you say that?

Well the house and estate look a little ragged around the edges. Fences need repairing, the house could use a lick of paint and there are some windows and doors that need replacing.

Who lives there?

Well Bernice Peabody-Wells is about sixty-five or so; she’s the one who somebody tried to kill. She’s lived there all her life. Never married. Between you and me I think the poisoning story is all nonsense. Old gal probably got her meds mixed up. She’s getting a little odd in the head if you ask me.

And who else is there?

There’s Joan and Fred Browne, the gardeners and groundskeepers.  They’ve been around for decades too. Finally, there’s Fay Blackstock, the housekeeper who has been with the family ever since she was in her twenties.

Have you noticed anything unusual over there?

Well, I am not over there very often, but about a month ago Bernice’s sister Esther arrived out of the blue from Florida. She’s been away for five years and I understand she and Bernice were estranged, but then she just re-appeared.

Doesn’t look good coming back like that out of the blue just before the poisoning attempt.

Yes, that’s what I thought too.

If I wanted to go and speak to Bernice and Esther, can I get to the house by the main driveway or is there a gate through this fence line?

Why would you want to go and speak to them?

I’m a detective with the Lake Placid Police Department and I am here to investigate the attempted murder of Bernice Peabody-Wells.

Well, that’s certainly not what I took you for. If you want to see Bernice I suggest you call ahead and then go up the main driveway. It’s about a half mile east of the campground.  And, good luck to you.

Why do you say that?

Bernice Peabody-Wells is in a class of caustic all by herself. Not sure why anybody could or would work for her. Just be prepared and wear some armor.

James drove off down the road, then stopped under a shady tree and called Anne. You read that one wrong. Your helpless female at 57G is none other than police Detective Angela Morton from Lake Placid.  She requested to be as close to the estate as possible for a good reason.  She’s here to investigate the attempted murder of Bernice. She’s already asking questions and I suspect she won’t miss a trick. So just watch your step if she starts snooping. If we want our plan to succeed we have to move carefully.

***

In the biggest bedroom of the Hanover Farm mansion, Bernice lay in her large bed and looked around. How she hated the colors in the bedroom. All those blah browns and orange shades from the 70s and ugly geometric wallpapers. Was that really the last time any decorating had been done? The room looked so dated it was depressing. In fact, the whole house needed a facelift, but where would the money come from? Father had always said that women shouldn’t trouble themselves with money matters. Let the bankers or the estate executors take care of those things. She closed her eyes and willed herself to feel better. Thank heavens for dear Dr. Roger Fergus. He had recognized the signs of poisoning on that dreadful evening. Test results showed that it was delphinium seeds – apparently poisonous – mixed in with her apple crumble that had caused the severe digestive upset and breathing problems. Luckily, she had eaten so little that she survived.  

She knew the local police had questioned everybody in the house, but they were no further ahead.  She lay back on her pillows but was startled by a tap on the door. A small woman carrying a tray walked in. You feeling better, Miss Bernice?

What do you think Fay?  Somebody tried to kill me and almost succeeded. What have you brought me? Some more of that awful beef broth and dry toast? I am sure Dr. Fergus will agree that my diet can get an upgrade. When is he coming? Today or tomorrow?

Fay sighed inwardly. Bernice was forgetting more and more things lately: Names, dates and appointments. And that was before the poisoning. Now her mind seemed more addled than ever. Roger is coming in half an hour.

Dr. Fergus to you, Fay, snapped Bernice emphasizing the