The Bamboo Mirror - An Anthology of Short Mysteries

About the author:

Faith Mortimer: born in Manchester, England and educated in Singapore, Malaya and Hampshire, England. Qualified as a Registered nurse and later changed careers to oversee a number of travel and sport related companies.

Faith is married with a family. Once the children attended University, she decided to join them in reading for a Science degree. Faith obtained an Honours Science degree in 2005 and believes the dedication and stamina needed to sit for a degree while in full-time employment, gave her the confidence to finish writing her first novel.

She has now written and published 14 novels and a volume of short stories. All are available as eBooks and paperbacks from your favourite online book store.

For more information about Faith and her writing please follow on Facebook. www.facebook.com/FaithMortimer.Author

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Website: www.faithmortimerauthor.com

Where Faith writes a regular blog about all manner of things!

THE BAMBOO MIRROR

An Anthology of Short Mysteries

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Copyright © Faith Mortimer 2011

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The right of Faith Mortimer to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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All Rights Reserved

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No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents originate from the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

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First Published in 2011

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Published by

Topsails Charter

Southampton

The Bamboo Mirror

CONTENTS

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Widow’s Weeds

The Bamboo Mirror

The Cast Party

Making a Right

Rebecca with Two Cs

Summer Visitors

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Bonus Content:

Excerpt from the Diana Rivers murder mystery novel

The Assassins’ Village by Faith Mortimer

Excerpt from Children of the Plantation by Faith Mortimer

Excerpt from the mystery thriller The Surgeon’s Blade by Faith Mortimer

Widow’s Weeds

by Faith Mortimer

‘Diana what do you make of this? I was told an interesting tale this week about one of our village widows.’ Geraldine said, passing a glass of ginger beer to Diana. ‘Apparently she was an Anglo-Cypriot who returned to Cyprus for her parents’ funeral. Then stayed and got hitched. Her husband lived for less than a year after their marriage.’

‘Oh? What happened to him? Do you know how he died?’ Diana asked; her natural inquisitiveness piqued.

‘That’s just it. The day before he died the pair of them threw a big party. It looked like he was poisoned by oleander oil. How it happened nobody knows.’

‘I know oleander is poisonous but I thought it has to be taken in large doses. Was he suffering from any illness before the poisoning? Did he have a weak heart?’

‘Not that I know of.  He was a diabetic though.’

‘Ah then that might well have been the weakness for him, diabetes and poison. But do we know for certain?’

‘No.’

‘Then tell me the whole story. It sounds fascinating.’

~~~~~

‘Welcome home.’

Maria murmured her thanks as the officer handed her passport back. Taking in the dark eyes and glossy raven hair he smiled in appreciation at her long legs as she strode away from his kiosk.

It was nearly a year since she’d been back, but this time she was home for good. Maria cast a brief look around the familiar airport, collected her heavy bulging suitcase from the Cyprus Airways carousel and made her way outside. There was a considerable crowd waiting at the gate and she felt a moment’s panic before she remembered where her aunt said her cousin would meet her.

‘Near the car-hire desks at the back of the hall, it’ll be less crowded there.’ She’d said on the telephone just before Maria had boarded her flight home from London. So where was he?

Maria wheeled her bag over to an empty spot and checked her mobile, it was definitely working. Already she felt homesick for her flat back in the East End; she’d left so many friends back there. It was bad enough having to come home for her parents’ funeral, but to say goodbye to the last fourteen years was almost more than she could bear.

‘Maria?’

Turning she met the eyes of a tall thin man standing next to her. With a small hesitant smile he repeated her name.

‘Yes. It’s Yiannis isn’t it? I remember you from junior school. How are you? Still working at the hotel down in Limassol?’

Bending down, he picked up her suitcase before replying. ‘Yes and no. I’ve recently moved to The Four Seasons, they pay much better.’

As always, money was the key factor here.

During the journey to Maria’s birthplace, Yiannis filled her in on family news. Within minutes her head was full of so many births, deaths and marriages that Maria wondered how on earth she was going to remember half of it. What did it all matter anyway?

She turned to look out of the car window at the passing scenery, leaning her forehead against the cool glass. Then she made a rapid decision to change her initial plans. She hardly knew any of the extended family here, so after a respectable amount of time she’d make arrangements to sell the family home and return to where she felt she really belonged. She’d never be missed and the small house would probably never feel like home to her. Put it on the market, sell it for a cheap price and get the hell out of here.

~~~~~

The funeral over, Maria wandered round the house aimlessly. Tomorrow she had an appointment with the lawyer to sort out her parents’ will. She didn’t expect any bother as she was their only child and looking at the simply furnished two-bedroomed village house, neither was she expecting any money.

She sighed. She wished her boyfriend, Ferdi could have accompanied her. But that too would have been impossible as he was Turkish and she was Greek-Cypriot. The two countries were not what she would have called the best of friends. She smiled to herself, he was damn good in bed though and she knew she was going to miss his strong arms around her tonight. If only he’d pop that question to her that she’d been waiting for, for oh so long.

~~~~~

‘So, Miss Maria there you have it.’ The fat little lawyer sat back heavily in his chair and pushed his glasses into position on his perspiring nose. ‘You are a very rich young lady. Rich and very fortunate I would say.’

Maria’s mind was spinning. For the first time since her parents’ fatal car accident, when her Papa’s old pick-up truck had driven into an articulated lorry, she felt alive. How on earth had they managed to accumulate so much cash? As she thought about the mean little dwelling where her arthritic mother had eked out her life, she felt a pang of love for her and a welling-up of resentment towards her father. Why if they had saved all this couldn’t they have spent some of it on some home comforts and small luxuries? She would much rather have had them safe and well driving around in a new car than be landed with a fortune as she was now. She would never understand how the older generations reasoned.

Walking away from the lawyer’s office she had a sudden whim. Just because her father wouldn’t spend money on a new car, didn’t mean she couldn’t. The automatic doors leading into the Mercedes-Benz showrooms opened and without a moment’s hesitation she walked in.

~~~~~

With the wind rifling through her hair Maria felt a lifting of her mood. She’d chosen a smart two-seater coupe in red – her favourite colour, and there was just enough room in the fair sized boot to accommodate the dozen or so bags of shopping.

She laughed to herself. If only they could see me in London right now! Wouldn’t they be surprised? No more shelf stacking in Sainsbury’s for her. She had enough money to live a life of luxury without having to earn her keep for as long as she lived. Wahoo!

She cut her speed down by a few kilometres an hour – she didn’t want to end up like her parents – and picked up her mobile as it rang.

‘Ferdi! Hi! No I’m fine, no really I am. I’ve sorted through Mum and Dad’s things, not that there was much. When, sorry I missed that? When am I planning on coming home?’ She did a rapid calculation. She was having far more fun than she’d thought she would and didn’t want to think about returning home just yet. Besides, London had been freezing cold and wet when she’d left. She decided not to tell him about her parents’ will. Some other time she might let him in on the secret.

‘I have some things to finalise here. I want to put the house on the market, and that will take time to sort out. Yes I miss you heaps. OK, I understand you gotta go.  Bye, love you too.’

She killed the connection. Now why did she say that? Why didn’t she mention the money and her little shopping spree?

~~~~~

It was two months since Maria had arrived back in Cyprus and she’d settled down in the village more easily than she had first thought. The house was now on the market, but for some reason a collection of three new houses being built on the village outskirts had caught her imagination. They were going to be beautiful! Four bedrooms, a kitchen to die for, wonderful views down the valley and all mod cons. It was something she’d only dreamed of before. Now, if she had been thinking of staying she might have bought one.

She turned her mind back to more immediate things. Two of her aunts had invited her to Sunday lunch. It was going to be a typical noisy family do, with loads of relatives and noisy children. Perhaps it was the best thing for her though. She didn’t really want to be on her own all the time, did she?

The lunch was exactly as she thought and after accepting two helpings of souvla she knew her waspy waist was in danger of becoming more like a chunky Michelin man’s. But it had been marinated for hours and it tasted so good.

Seated opposite was a middle-aged man she’d never met before, Christos Ioannidis. He was apparently a widower and lived alone in Limassol, his wife having died two years ago of breast cancer. Christos appeared to be quiet and