“Come along now, John!” Alf appeared at the man’s elbow as a knot of customers gathered at a discreet distance. Elizabeth could almost see their ears flapping. Whatever was going on—and she’d love to know what exactly it was—was much more interesting than darts or snooker. “You leave these ladies alone now.” He met Antonia’s eyes. “Sorry about this.”
“I’m not!” The man called John wrenched his arm free. “Let them leave us in peace. Coming here. Stirring things up.”
“I believe, sir,” Antonia said in her best daughter of a chieftain voice, “you are mistaking us for someone else.”
“I’m bloody well not! I heard you tell Alf you’d bought Orchard House. I know exactly who you are.”
“That’s enough, John Rowan,” Alf took one of his arms and pulled him back. “On your way. You’re not having any more to drink tonight, and you’re not staying here to bother customers.”
“You!” John Rowan, lunged forward and grabbed Elizabeth by the arm. Her blood stirred, and she willed her face and hands not to shift. Now was not the time to turn ghoul.
She didn’t need to worry. As he lunged, Parsnip growled and sank her teeth into his calf.
He screamed, flailing his arms and completely overturning the table. Another man joined Alf, and together they pulled John away while Parsnip’s owner tugged her lead. She wasn’t giving up that readily. Having adopted Elizabeth as friend, she was defending her source of tidbits.
In the midst of another table overturning; a chair going flying; Parsnip’s owner shouting, “Give over, Parsnip! Give over;” and Alf telling John Rowan to settle down, the door opened. A burly, gray-haired policeman came in, followed by a younger, dark-haired one.
“Spot of trouble then?” the older one asked, his quick eyes assessing the situation with a resignation born, no doubt, from experience. “Oh, John Rowan! Not you again.” He stepped forward. “Come along quietly then, and we’ll take you home.”
The appearance of the law calmed things considerably. John stood and scowled but left the rest of the furniture standing. The crowd dispersed, and the snooker semifinals once more became the center of attention. As the door closed behind the policemen and a still mumbling John Rowan, Alf and his helper straightened tables and chairs, and Vickie appeared with a towel and mopped up the mess.
“I’ll get you each another Maldon water,” she said. “On the house.”
“Don’t bother—” Antonia began.
“No, let me. Alf will feel guilty if I don’t. Your first time here and all,” she went on. “Don’t know what got into John Rowan. He gets miserable and moans about everything, but I’ve never seen him go for anyone like that. People here don’t think like him. Honest. Most are glad you’re opening up the house and giving people jobs.”
“Vickie, love. Go get two Maldons.” Alf turned to Antonia and Elizabeth. “How about pudding? On the house. Just to show no hard feelings. So sorry about this; really, I am.”
“A fresh drink would be lovely,” Antonia said, “but nothing more to eat for me.”
“I’ll skip too, thanks,” Elizabeth added. She was about to ask who exactly this John Rowan was when the younger policeman came back and headed straight to their now tidied table. “Everything alright now?” he asked. When assured that yes, it was, he nodded. “No one hurt? Either of you ladies want to press charges?”
Every eye in the bar might be looking at the TV, but Elizabeth sensed every ear flapping for their reply. Even Parsnip had picked up her head. “Of course not,” Antonia replied. “He was drunk. It happens.”
“He is alright, isn’t he?” Elizabeth asked. “There won’t be trouble over Parsnip? She was just trying to protect me.”
The policeman smiled. “What? Trouble with old Parsnip?” Her ear cocked at hearing her name, and her tail thumped the carpet. “Doesn’t look like a dangerous dog, does she?” He shook his head. “We’ll take John home, see he doesn’t cause any more trouble.” He shrugged and turned to the door.
The sound of the departing car came though the open windows. Everyone deciding the entertainment really was over, the darts game resumed. Alf arrived with two fresh drinks and lingered, repeating his apologies and assuring them that John Rowan did not speak for Bringham.
“Any idea why he feels so anti us?” Antonia asked.
Alf paused as if considering how much to say. “Don’t rightly know exactly, but since you know Dixie, you heard about the trouble here last year?”
They both nodded.
“Dixie mentioned about the arrest and the bombing,” Antonia said. “Rather upset she was as she felt that prevented her selling or letting the house. She was pretty open about it and gave me a very good price. Seems a shame as property in this part of the country usually goes for much more.”
Alf picked up. “You’re right there. Now, I’m not one to gossip, but after what just happened, seems you have a right to know. John Rowan has had brushes with the law over the years, and he and his wife were among a half dozen or so that Sebastian Caughleigh named as accomplices. They got questioned by the police and let go. Nothing in it. Caughleigh was bonkers. Killed my helper Vernon—that much they did prove—and maybe more, but he did confess, and seems he most likely did do in the old ladies, Dixie’s aunts. Mind you, he claimed he killed Dixie too, and she’s still alive and well, right?”
They both nodded. Dixie was well and happy, if not exactly “alive.”
“No doubt your coming wound John up. Half the crowd in here were talking about your plans for Orchard House. Must have touched off a sore spot if you ask me. It’s not like him really—he’s more sneaky than confrontational—and I’ll see it never happens again. You have my word.”
He ambled back to his position behind the bar, and a few minutes later, Antonia asked Elizabeth, “Ready? Perhaps you should leave before you risk ghouling everyone.”
“I’m okay, but yes, let’s go.” Elizabeth paused to pat Parsnip on the head. Her owner nodded and smiled over his beer. “She’s a good dog,” Elizabeth said, half to herself.
“That she is,” he replied. “She knows her friends and the other sort.” He looked up at her with eyes milky with age. “There’s some in this village would rather things were as they were before. Better watch for them, ladies. Good night.”
The evening air was fresh and welcome. “I’m glad we walked,” Antonia said. “I’ll walk back with you, and then I’m going for a run.”
Elizabeth could make an educated guess about exactly where Antonia was going to run. “What do you think that old man meant? Talk about ancient inhabitants uttering cryptic warnings. Like something out of a gothic novel.”
“I think,” Antonia replied as they set off down the lane, “it was an expansion of what Alf told us. The chap had to have heard.”
“You mean that John whatever his name was was one of Sebastian’s bunch?”
“John Rowan was his name, and yes, that’s exactly what I think. Might be worth keeping our ears open for mention of him and his wife Mildred. Never hurts to be careful.”
“Might be worth giving Dixie a call. See if she remembers the name.”
“A little project for you while I hunt.”
“It’s hardly hunting when you already know what you’re after.”
“It’s always hunting, Elizabeth.”
Not