Hello, and welcome to my 2025 Blogging From A To Z April Challenge! This year, I’ve written you a complete murder mystery novelette. The setting is rural England, a few years after WWI. The extra challenge that I set myself for this story is that the first murder will not take place until the letter “M”–halfway through! And the second murder will happen at “S.” There may be murders after “S,” of course, but they are less structural or foundational or something.
And now, without further ado…
Zircon’s Just As Good
Once Crowner had gone, Penny and Dr. Camphor looked at each other—and then looked away.
“This hitch about us getting married,” said the doctor at last. “What is it?”
“Oh Rupert! I can’t marry you. I have to go back to America and run Jack’s Jams,” Penny cried out, suddenly miserable.
“Oh.” Dr. Camphor straightened up. “That’s easily solved. I’ll come with you.”
Penny stared at him, appalled. “What? Leave this nice village? You’ve been here all your life, haven’t you?”
“All my life—so far. But I don’t see why that means I have to stay here for the rest of it.”
“But—the practice.”
“Yes, I’ll have to find someone to take over for me before I can leave. But that won’t take long, you know. There are lots of talented young doctors who are desperate for a practice like this one. And I’ll have to find out about what I’ll need to do to practice in America. But that won’t—”
And the rest of his eminently practical plans were drowned in kisses.
* * *
Reggie was in the library. Technically, Stephen was in there with him, keeping him company in his quiet way, but for practical purposes, Reggie was alone.
Reggie was drinking whiskey, trying to comprehend the magnitude of his changed circumstances. He could still live here, of course. Uncle Frank and Aunt Lottie wouldn’t want him to go; neither would Stephen. And in fact, with no money of his own, he didn’t quite see how he could live anywhere else. Only…
And then Geraldine and Wilhelmina walked in. Whiskey shot out of Reggie’s mouth.
“Ladies,” he wheezed out. “Awfully nice to see you—both—of course—ahhhhh.” The noise he made at the end was a little like a scream.
Geraldine smiled sympathetically at him. “How are you feeling, Weggie? It must be awful, knowing that your mother—and being disinherited, too. Did you know any of it?”
“Not a jottle. It’s shaken me, I can tell you. I did find this at the crime scene—” and he removed a tiny gold button from his pocket “—and I knew that Aunt Gert—that is—that is Aunt Gert, I can’t call her anything else—I knew that Aunt Gert had gloves with buttons like this. But I thought it was all a coincidence or something. Only it confused me a bit, because who wears thickish leather gloves in summer? But I never thought it meant she’d done the murder, I just thought that if the button were found, it would cause a lot of trouble. But it did just put me off her the tiniest bit, I think. God. Not that it matters now.” He shook a defeated head, looking old for the first time in his life.
“Yes. Howwid for you,” said Geraldine. “We thought you might be fwetting about the future just now. And we talked it over between us, and the upshot is, I’m not going to mawwy you.” She pulled off her ring and laid it on the table next to him. “Wilhelmina has a stwonger claim. I’m going to go with Father and Penny to Amewica. I’ll stay for a year or so, see Father nicely settled, and see how the jam business works, and then, if he hasn’t found anyone he likes better by then, I’ll come back here and mawwy Stephen. That is, if he’ll have me.”
Stephen, who had been trying to make himself invisible in a corner until this moment, now stepped forward, his face radiant with joy. “Oh—rather! I say, Geraldine…” he blushed. “Do come back and make me happy. Even if it is just to be lady of the manor and all that. I don’t mind. I know I’m not terribly fascinating.”
“You don’t think I’m being howwibly mercenawy?” Geraldine said, looking at Stephen shyly.
“I don’t care if you are. I’m rather fond of you, and you’ll make a wonderful lady of the manor.”
Geraldine nodded. “Yes. I’ve always wanted to be mistwess here. And I’m fond of you, too—we’ll get along well togethaw.”
“Let’s go tell Father. He’ll be so pleased. And he and I have been talking over some changes to the home farm that I think may interest you.”
“Oh Stephen, how splendid! Yes, I want to know all about it.”
And they walked off arm in arm, leaving Reggie and Wilhelmina looking at each other. They were silent for a long time, but finally Reggie spoke.
“How about it, Mina? I’ve acted like an absolute cad, and I don’t deserve you, and I haven’t any prospects, and I’ve treated you like second-hand garbage. But… I…”
“I know you do.” She shrugged. “Yes. I’ll take you. But after all this, you’d better make a damned good husband.”
He smiled. “I’ll give it a damned good try.”
* * *
Dotty was packing her trunk. There wasn’t much to put in it. Two neat uniforms, one Sunday frock with hat and shoes to match, a pair of slightly soiled gloves, a winter jacket, a cheap paperback or two, a torn stocking not quite past mending, another stocking, beyond repair, that held her savings. She looked around her. Was there anything else?
“Dotty,” said a voice from her bedroom door. She spun round. Nigel was standing there. “Packing to go?”
“I’ve been sacked—remember?” She said bitterly—and then regretted it. Why part on bad terms? “I’m glad they aren’t going to hang you,” she said awkwardly.
Nigel smiled, and took a rather shaky breath. “So am I. I think. Actually, it rather depends. Will you marry me?”
“What?”
“Marry me.”
Dotty stared at him without fully taking this in, her heart for a moment feeling strangely light. But then an explanation came to her, and the old heaviness returned. “What, because you got me sacked? That’s a lifetime of penance, Nigel. I won’t make you pay that. Go and marry someone of your own sort.”
“You mean you don’t love me.”
Dotty shrugged. “I don’t see how that comes in.”
“Don’t you? I think it’s rather important, myself. You see, I love you. And as for marrying one of my own sort—I haven’t felt like a gentleman since I came back from the war. Not that I disapprove of ‘em, I think they’re fine. Stephen’s a gentleman, and even I can’t find anything nasty to say about him. I just don’t feel part of it anymore.”
“So you think you’ll marry a housemaid?”
“So I want to marry you.”
“Nigel—do you really?”
“Yes.” He looked at her, and there was something in his face she’d never seen there before. It made her feel a bit unsteady.
Dotty closed her trunk and sat on the bed. “We couldn’t live here,” she said.
“I wouldn’t want to.”
“What would we do?”
Nigel grinned. “Cautious girl. I like that about you. Examine my offer from every side, like a pig at market. My idea is to open up a garage, somewhere a goodish distance from here. Location to be determined upon further study of local business conditions. I’m sure Father will give me an initial loan, and we’ll make a point of paying it back promptly.”
“Oh.” It was sounding possible. Dotty’s heart started to beat faster. “But… Nigel, your accent is going to sound funny, coming from a mechanic, you know. People might think it odd.”
“That thought had occurred to me. What if we lean into it, call it ‘Toffy’s Garage.’ I’ll be Toffy. They called me that back in the war, and I got to like it.”
“Oh Nigel!” And Dotty threw her arms around him.
“Do you love me, by the way?” Nigel said, his voice muffled in her hair.
Dotty stared at Nigel, genuinely appalled. “Of course I do. I thought you knew.”
Perfect wrap-up! I’m going to miss reading a chapter a day. Sigh. I would have liked to see Frank and Lottie wrapped up too. But they’ll plod along.
I enjoyed your murder mystery immensely.
Thank you so much! Your comments have meant so much to me. It makes me a better writer, to have a daily deadline, and to get daily feedback. And every day, I’d wonder what you were going to say about the latest installment. I only wish I’d been a better A to Zer, and returned more visits. But I always end up getting overwhelmed by my own A to Z.
I did have a Frank/Lottie scene in my notes, but I wasn’t sure it was necessary. It’s cute, though. Basically, Frank says “so you lied to me all these years,” and Lottie says, “oh, did Gertrude tell you at last? Thank God–I promised her I wouldn’t, and anyway it would have been so awkward. ‘Pass the salt, Frank dear, and by the way, Reggie isn’t your son.'” Then Frank gently reminds her that Gertrude is dead, and they have a laugh about the salt thing.
If I decide to revisit some of these posts (and there are one or two other things I meant to put in that never made it), I’ll be sure to add that in.
Thanks for sharing it. Sounds just like them
Hopefully I’ll flesh it out and add it here someday! I do plan to tidy up this challenge a bit, making a page with all of the chapters and extras all listed, so maybe when I do that, I’ll add in the one or two bits and pieces that I’ve left out here.
Very satisfactory. Lots of happy endings.
Congratulations on reaching the end of the challenge and many thanks for an enjoyable story.
Thank you so much! And thank you for sticking with it for the whole story! I really appreciated the commenters who were with me every day; it motivated me and kept me going. I’m only sorry that, as usual, I got so caught up in my own A to Z that I became a very bad participant.
Cheers to all of us, for completing another successful A to Z season!
Awww, very nice! I wonder whether Geraldine actually will come back. She may find a nice American industrialist with a Newport cottage for her to be mistress of. But at least she’s honest about it, so you can’t fault that.
I always enjoy your stories enormously, and while I can see that they’re obviously a lot of work, I’m sorry you don’t do four a year or something! Come on, get your nose to the grindstone. Your public awaits!
Yeah, I wonder about Geraldine, too. But I think she’s pretty focused on being mistress of Grimsby Manor, so Stephen has a good chance of marrying her.
Thank you! I really like writing these. And this year, I’m trying to maintain my writing momentum, keeping to the same writing schedule as for my A to Z to continue other projects. I have about three pages of a mystery written so far (I did take a day or two off after the challenge), which… well, we’ll see how it develops. I always promise myself that this time, I’ll write a whole, complete mystery novel–and then try to actually get it published. But it is much, much easier to just put it up on this blaugh, so–who knows?
I am also, as I always do after this challenge, trying to figure out a way to continue to post stuff year-round. As always, I have an idea about that, but I’m not even going to talk about it until I see if it is feasible (and something I actually, like, do).
I really, really, really appreciated your daily comments–as always. Thanks for being with me for the whole story! I’m always excited to get a Nydam comment. Thank you!