The Deadly Regatta (Abigail Summers Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

Book summary

Abigail Summers, a sleuthing spirit, and psychic medium Hayley Moon investigate the murder of a regatta club commodore. With suspects ranging from marina regulars to residents of Edenbury Heights, the duo faces their most challenging case yet. Amidst humor and suspense, danger also looms for Hayley and her husband.

Excerpt from The Deadly Regatta (Abigail Summers Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

Little Jacob Redman was six years old and he was bored and hot. Daddy had told him that this geratta was going to be fun. Well, it wasn’t. He couldn’t even see the races, not even a boat. All he could see were bottoms and legs. There were some people who had seats at the start and finish line, but not them. Just the posh ones, Daddy said. But they were posh, weren’t they? Daddy had his own window cleaning business. It wasn’t fair that his brother, Josh, was allowed to stand at the water’s edge with all his friends. And he was taking part in the raft race later on. He was never coming to the Ottersmill Geratta ever again. There weren’t even any otters.

“Can we go now, Dad?” Jacob asked, while pulling on his dad’s shorts.

“Not yet. The races are still going on.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry and we’ve already eaten. I’m not paying any more of those prices. You can wait till we get home.”

“Can I sit on your shoulders then?”

“It’s too hot for that, Jacob. It won’t be long now.”

But he’d said that ages ago. This was even more boring than going shopping with Mummy when she needed a dress for Auntie Dawn’s wedding. When she bought him clothes, she just held them against him, but no, she had to try on everything in hundreds of shops. Even if he could see the boats, he wasn’t interested. He liked coming to the river to feed the ducks and the swans, but there weren’t any to be seen today. It was far too noisy. Every time the horns went or the gun started a race, the cheers and shouts would start. Maybe they were up on the bend, where it was quiet.

Jacob had enjoyed it when they visited all the marquees, which were covered in colourful bunting and flags. And Mum had let him have a big ice cream after the burger from the truck. But even Mummy and Daddy were straining to see the racing boats. Even the boats were boring. He liked the ones with the big white sales that went zigzagging up the river. After the third time of being told they couldn’t leave, Jacob decided on a plan.

Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t even notice if he crept quietly away. It would be worth getting in trouble to go and see the swans. He wouldn’t go near the edge; that always made Mummy angry. If only he had saved a bit of his bread roll for them.

He made sure his parents weren’t looking and then weaved his way through the dense crowd, none of whom took any notice of the small child, dressed in a dinosaur T-shirt and green shorts. He glanced behind him and was relieved that he had left them all behind and no one was coming after him. He might even get away with it if he didn’t stay too long, so he started to run. Jacob rounded the bend in the river and saw the weeping willow tree where the ducks and swans were usually found. There was a small pontoon, with mooring for one boat, but as the tree was so overgrown it was seldom used. He bent down to get under the branches because he had seen something glinting. The ducks weren’t there, but all four swans were, and they swam expectantly towards the boy for their usual treats, but they were to be disappointed. Jacob knew he shouldn’t have, but he went closer to the edge. It was then that he noticed a patch of red on the usually white feathers, and for the first time that day, he actually saw something in the river.

Mrs Redman joined in the clapping when she heard that a team from Ottersmill had won the women’s scull race. She looked down to speak to Jacob and her heart skipped a beat when her young wasn’t there.

“Jacob,” she called. First gently and then loudly as panic set in. Mr Redman shouted for his son too, and pushed the other spectators out of the way as he made his way towards the front, by the riverbank. Maybe he had gone to see his brother, but Josh said he hadn’t seen him, but wondered if he had gone to see the ducks by the big willow, as he had mentioned them at least twenty times that day. His mum also remembered he had kept asking where the otters were, so she hoped and prayed that he had gone to the place upstream that he knew. They rushed as fast as all the people would let them pass, and it was as they got nearer that they heard the screaming.

PC Tom Bennett and WPC Jane Nichols were trying their best to keep the spectators of the Ottersmill Regatta back. However, it seemed everyone was much too interested in the dead body that was lying on a rubber sheet by the riverbank. They had put up the crime scene tape and were waiting for the arrival of Tom’s nemesis, Detective Chief Inspector Tony Johnson.

The forensic team, in their white overalls, began erecting the white, pop-up tent to put over the cold, wet corpse of Leo Spencer, who had been pulled out of the River Gore. His glazed blue eyes were open and he looked as shocked as everyone else that someone had murdered him. He had been identified by many of the bystanders as the commodore of the sailing club. Even in death, he still looked smart in his blazer, grey flannel trousers and yellow and blue tie in the colours of the club pennant.

Tom hoped the Chief Constable would send any detective other than Johnson to investigate this one, knowing that he would hate all the boating community, as he did anyone who flaunted their wealth. Mind you, thought Tom, he didn’t like the hoi polloi much either. He showed the same respect to a Lord as he did a labourer. In fact, even less. But Johnson saved his real contempt for the young constable himself, because he was always one step in front of him and managed to get to the truth of cases before he did. Johnson had an idea how, but couldn’t say for sure. He would be the one who was laughed at if he said he thought it was Hayley, Bennett’s psychic wife, who was feeding him information. He couldn’t prove it yet, but he would one day.

Tom thought his boss would have gone mad if he knew that as soon as he and Jane had arrived there, he had phoned Hayley and told her there had been a suspicious death, likely murder, at the Ottersmill Regatta. She had been a perfectly normal, but slightly eccentric wife, until the day a spirit named Abigail Summers had burst into their home, wanting to know who had murdered her. Knowing her as he did now, he was surprised the list hadn’t been a lot longer. But with his help as well, Abigail had worked out who did it and decided to open The Deadly Detective Agency. Several other spirits made up the team, but Hayley was the link between the living and the dead. Unfortunately, he was the link between them and the police. The Chief Constable suspected, and was happy about that, but Johnson did everything he could to get rid of him, and he had to watch his back constantly. Especially when he needed to get copies of post-mortems or interviews for the others. Talk of the devil, thought Tom, as the two young constables heard shouting. Yep, the boss had arrived.

DCI Johnson, followed by his sergeant, Dave Mills, pushed his way through the crowd. The two policemen couldn’t be more different. Johnson always looked like he had just got out of bed and forgotten to brush his hair, but Mills on the other hand had an immaculate haircut and always wore a fitted suit and crisp shirt.

“Don’t stand there doing nothing, Bennett, get this lot out of the way. First, tell me who’s died and ruined my Sunday,” yelled Johnson.

“The club’s commodore, Leo Spencer, sir.” Tom pointed to a family standing to his left. The father was wrapped in a blanket and the mother was bending down and hugging her smallest child. “The young son, Jacob Redman, went missing and saw the body floating in the water at about half past three. The father arrived soon after and jumped straight in, then shouted for help and a couple of men managed to get the body on the bank. One of them tried to resuscitate him, but it was too late. It was then that they noticed the big gash on the side of his head.”

“He could have fallen in and bashed his head on that staging. Or been hit by a boat or an oar. I might be able to get back to my pint then.”

“The boats didn’t come up this far, they went downstream from the start line at the Ottersmill Sailing Club, towards the Jolly Sailor at Tingleford. The other way goes towards Gorebridge. As you see, the bend in the river hides this area from the view of everyone, so no one has come forward to say they saw anything so far. And this is the widest part of the river, so no one on the opposite bank will have been able to see much. Also, sir, the same little boy saw this on the bank under the tree when he saw the body. It was hidden under the boughs of the willow.” Tom pointed to a large steel bar that had been put in a bag and had a dark stain on one of the pointed edges. “They could have both been hidden for weeks if the boy hadn’t gone on a duck hunt.”

“Remind me to thank him,” Johnson answered sarcastically. “Is the next of kin here?”

“There is a Mrs Ruth Spencer, but we haven’t been able to find her yet. She was here apparently, but seems to have disappeared.”

“It’s always the spouse. Isn’t that right, Sergeant?”

Mills thought that in his experience it very rarely was, but didn’t want to annoy the boss this early on, so he just agreed with him, but added, “Have an ask around, Tom, and see if you can find anyone that has got her phone number. She might be in one of the tents or somewhere. It’s strange she hasn’t heard about it, unless she’s gone home.”

“Righto, sir.” Tom was delighted that he would have the chance to leave the crime scene and do some digging of his own. Jane Nichols rolled her eyes as she was left to do crowd control on her own, but more that she was left to work with Johnson. He wasn’t too keen on women either, so Tom definitely owed her one.