The Toast of the Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book III)

Spotted Laurel

The next day Imogen headed to the Fitzroy residence, The Holybranch Mansion, to visit Poppy Fitzroy's studio, which had become quite a habit of Imogen's. Poppy's cameras and other equipment occupied a large room on the first floor of the mansion, with its own entrance and a narrow staircase, which suited Imogen perfectly. She would simply send Poppy a text from the small door that led to the garden, and Poppy would come down to let her in. They spent hours having tea with sweets and pastries, looking at photographs, and chatting away. Despite being older than Poppy, Imogen enjoyed the time they spent together feeling as if she had a proper older sister. Poppy was curt, direct, confident, and underneath her spoilt girl facade, quite a darling. She loved nature and all its children - furry and feathery, as well as pancrustacean - and had zero interest in the human affairs in Fleckney. Imogen felt endless relief knowing their conversation would never be filled with gossip, bad-mouthing, and judgement that was so very common among the dwellers of their little county.

Poppy was tinkering with some equipment of hers, while Imogen scrolled through Poppy's latest photographs on the screen of the girl's Macbook Pro, on Poppy's desk, surrounded by dirty coffee mugs, tins of biscuits, and several large boxes of Belgium chocolates.

"Still no luck with wrens?" Imogen asked distractedly, studying the assortment in the nearest M&S tin.

"I've been to the Oakby Manor again," Poppy said, "but they didn't seem to come back there. I'm going to do a thorough sweep of the village in a fortnight or so. Maybe they've migrated. Remember that painter I've mentioned, Fiona Holyoake? That cottage has an excellent garden for birds, actually. And plenty of flowers for pollinators. I wonder if I can weasel my way into it."

"You could just ask," Imogen offered timidly. "She might just invite you in. She loves birds too. She makes these adorable paper maché mobiles of them."

"Her husband kind of freaks me up," Poppy muttered. "He was an assassin, or something. Served in Iraq and killed a whole bunch of people there. He's all scarred and limping. I can just climb over the fence."

Imogen swallowed a knot in her throat. She, of course, didn't share Poppy's admittedly childish sentiment - but now she felt somewhat uneasy. Viola Holyoake assured her that Imogen would be more than welcome in the Swallow Barn Cottage that the painter and her family occupied, but Imogen hadn't thought of what Will Holyoake would think about Imogen intruding on their privacy. As Viola had mentioned, they led an isolated life. Fiona participated in fetes and markets, but Will was rarely seen in public. Imogen knew he trained the Fleckney Volunteer Fire Brigade, but that was the extent of his participation in the social life of Fleckney.

"They've actually been burgled as well," Poppy said and blindly picked up a half-eaten biscuit from her saucer and stuffed it into her mouth, while studying some sort of a lens on the table in front of her. "You've heard, right? I mean, of course you did, since you work for the Mayor." It was hard to understand her muttering because she spoke with her mouth full. "Do you know what they took? The burglars?"

Imogen threw a surprised look at the Fitzroy girl. They were having an astonishing amount of Fleckney style talk today.

"I'm not sure," Imogen said cautiously. "I've heard rumours of course, but–"

"And what do the rumours say?" Poppy asked in a disinterested voice - that was just one tone off.

Some sort of an odd feeling stirred in Imogen, somewhere in the back of her mind - and she recognised the tingling of her sleuthing inclinations. They'd become rather familiar by now: she had caught three murderers after all. After mulling over her conversation with Dr. Holyoake the day before, she'd decided to call this funny sensation that she was getting from time to time, the Addington Gene. After all, that was the riddle cracking urge she shared with Clementine Popplewell. Imogen had googled the author the previous night - and was shocked to find out that Mrs. Popplewell was no one other than Evelyn Cox, Imogen's second favourite mystery writer! Her first would be John Barnett, she loved his happy endings and likeable characters. She had a love-hate relationship with her third favourite author, Jack Richards, due to his uncanny ability to end in her favourite supporting characters. Evelyn Cox, though - her cousin, as it turns out now! - once killed her protagonist in the middle of a book, throat-cutting her bestselling series of seven novels! That was so bloody cool!