English Tea Murder Read Free

o’clock, hours later than her usual dinnertime.
    “I am not the crazy one here,” declared Autumn, stabbing at her chest. “This is a dead body. It’s unsanitary. I don’t want to have anything to do with it. Get it?”
    “I understand, miss. This is an unfortunate situation, but we must make the best of it.”
    “I have a solution,” said the doctor before the steward could reply. “I will change seats with the young lady.”
    “Is that agreeable?” inquired the steward.
    “Yes. Anything to get away from this . . . this corpse.” The steward turned to the doctor. “Thank you very much indeed.”
    “It’s nothing, really. I would actually prefer to sit with my granddaughter.” He smiled at Jennifer. “I will go and fetch my things.”
    “All right, miss. If you will just climb over . . .” The steward was holding out his hand to Autumn, offering support so she could clamber over Temple’s body.
    “Well, move him!” ordered Autumn. “I don’t wanna touch him!”
    “I’m afraid we must leave him in place for the coroner,” said the steward.
    At this the two girls exchanged glances; then Autumn quickly scrambled over Temple’s still corpse, averting her face as she did so. Jennifer gathered up Autumn’s possessions—the iPod, a magazine, a paperback book, the half-empty bag of trail mix—and stuffed them in a backpack, which she passed over. The steward ushered Autumn down the aisle, passing the doctor who was already returning to his granddaughter. He paused in the aisle, extending his hand to Lucy.
    “We’re going to be neighbors for the duration,” he said. “I’m Randall Cope. This is my granddaughter, Jennifer Fain. I recognized you from the airport. You’re on the Winchester College tour also, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, I am.” Lucy took his hand, finding it strong and warm and very reassuring. “My name’s Lucy Stone. This is my friend Sue Finch.”
    “Delighted to meet you both. And I am sorry about the, uh, situation.”
    “You did everything you could,” said Lucy.
    His expression was a combination of regret and caring, and Lucy understood that he’d faced the same situation many times in his medical career. “Well, yes, but it wasn’t enough.”
    Turning and moving quite easily for a man of his age, he stepped over Temple’s body, eased himself into Autumn’s vacated seat, and fastened his seat belt. Once settled, he placed his big, comforting hand over Jennifer’s tiny white one. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he reached across his chest with his free hand and smoothed her long, wavy hair.
    The motherly flight attendant returned, holding a tray with a number of miniature liquor bottles. “This has been a bit of an upset,” she said in a soothing nanny voice. “Would you care for a bit of brandy to soothe your nerves?”
    Lucy certainly did, and so did Sue.
    “What’s going to happen?” Lucy sipped the fiery brandy, feeling its warmth spread through her body. “He was our leader.”
    Sue had polished off her brandy in a single gulp. “I don’t know. I can’t think that far ahead. Right now, all I want is something to eat.”
    Crew members were already working their way down the aisles, distributing dinners, and it wasn’t long before their meals were placed in front of them and they tucked into their Tuscan chicken and pasta.
    “It’s not bad.” Lucy stabbed a tiny square of chicken.
    “It’s horrible, but it beats starving.” Sue was polishing off her tiny bowl of salad. “I can’t believe I have any appetite at all.”
    “They say death has that effect.” Lucy lowered her voice. “It makes people hungry—and not just for food. Sex, too.”
    Sue gazed at the blue lump on the other side of the aisle. “Survival instinct, I suppose.”
    Lucy followed her gaze and saw that while Dr. Cope was eating his dinner, Jennifer had refused her tray and was staring at the blank TV screen in front of her. She remembered how happy the girl had