This was my submission to the Malice Domestic 2026 Anthology. The theme was “Mystery Most Senior”. The story was not chosen for print, and I am offering it here for free.
(Approximately 4400 words)
Agatha Christie looked around as they drove through the entrance to The Cottages at Highfield Grove. This modern style of retirement home was much better than it used to be. She shuddered to think of the large old buildings which housed dozens of people. The cottages here in The Grove, as it was known, were much more to her liking.
She said as much to the man riding next to her.
“Yes, we have these in America too,” John Dickson Carr replied. “Although I admit I much prefer your home to any retirement community.”
Agatha smiled. John had just spent a few days visiting her at Greenway, before joining her on the train and then by car to The Grove.
She frowned at the gate man, who appeared to be rushing up to greet them. Her driver simply rode past without stopping, carrying on to what appeared to be the administration building, passing it before stopping outside the visiting hall.
He jumped out and opened the door for her, and she stepped onto the gravel driveway. As she looked about she saw that John had opened his own door and gotten out, the American way of not waiting for the driver to open it for him.
As she came around the car she saw another person scurrying between buildings.
“The staff certainly rush about, don’t they?” she said, as she turned almost straight into a businesslike woman who had come out of nowhere.
“I’m Mrs. Bartram, the manager here. May I help you, madam?” the woman asked.
“Not at all,” Agatha replied. “We are here to visit some old friends, and they are waiting for us inside.”
She stepped around Mrs. Bartram and marched up the path, glancing back to notice John smiling bemusedly at the lady as he followed.
They entered the visiting hall and looked around. Agatha immediately saw her group of friends and went to their table. John followed, slightly nervous but pleased to see everyone again.
“How are you all?” Agatha asked, and was slightly displeased to see them barely acknowledge her while saving their grand greetings for her guest. In fairness, they had not seen him in several years, since he returned to America, while it had only been a few months since they had last gotten together with Agatha.
She looked around the table. They had been the last to arrive, and everyone else was settled in. Margery Allingham was on her left, acting polite and reserved, although that impression might have been because she was seated next to Dorothy L. Sayers, the life of any party. Anthony Berkeley was on the other side of Dorothy, quietly glaring at each of them in turn. Agatha wondered which bee was in his bonnet today. To Anthony’s left was Freeman Wills Croft, considered the old man of the group even though he was little more than a decade older than the rest of them. She peered intently, wondering just how long he had left and what she might want from him before he died.
Everyone enthusiastically greeted them, asking about the journey from Greenway, Carr’s travel from America, and catching up on what was happening in their lives.
“And congratulations are in order for Agatha, who was awarded an OBE in the New Year Honours,” Dorothy said with a smile as everyone looked at her.
She nodded graciously. “Thank you,” she said, “although I must correct you and say that it was a CBE, not an OBE. Commander of the Order of the British Empire.”
Everyone oohed and aahed appropriately, while Agatha noted a slightly malicious grin on Dorothy’s face.
As their conversation continued, Agatha noticed several of the people at the table were staring out the window behind her, and she looked to see what had taken their attention. It turned out there was an ambulance in front of one of the cottages, with several people gathered around. A young policeman was trying in vain to move the crowd back.
A man in plain clothes stepped out of a large black police car, walked past the ambulance and, with a nod at the young officer, went up the path and inside.
“That will be the detective,” Margery said. “I wonder why he’s here?”
“It seems reasonable to assume there has been a crime,” Freeman said. “The question would be what the crime was, and whether the police will treat it seriously.”
Everyone turned to stare at him.
“Why wouldn’t they treat it seriously?” John asked.
“Only old people live here at The Grove,” Freeman said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we have been shoved into these corners of the land where we can be forgotten about.”
“Surely that’s not true,” Agatha said. “Most of us aren’t that old.”
“Most of us don’t live in a hall with servants to take care of us,” Dorothy said with a laugh.
“John, go tell that young man we wish to speak to the detective when he is available,” Agatha said. He paused a moment to glance at her before standing and going outside. They watched through the window as he approached the policeman and began talking, pointing back toward the rest of them a couple of times. John returned with a nod to the rest of the group, and they continued their conversation with one eye on the events outside.
A few minutes later the detective stepped outside and lit his pipe. He stood and listened while the policeman talked to him, and looked in the direction of the visiting hall when the young man pointed their way. After a few moments, the detective turned and went back inside, while the young policeman turned and walked across the driveway.
They all looked up as he opened the door and stepped inside. After looking around he came over to their table and removed his helmet.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Constable Jones, and Inspector Ashford has asked me to speak with you and take any statements you wish to give.”
They all stared at him, and he shifted uncomfortably in his shoes.
“We wish to speak to the inspector,” Agatha said. “We may be able to help in his investigation.”
“I’m afraid he’s very busy right now,” Jones stammered.
“Then perhaps you would be kind enough to tell us what you know, and we can then decide what to tell the inspector.”
“I’m not really at liberty to say anything right now.”
“You may tell us everything. Your inspector will not mind.”
“I think he will mind.”
“Did he not tell you to come in here and find out what we want? Well, we want to know what is happening out there.”
The young man took a step back.
“I will tell the inspector you want to know what’s going on.”
Anthony Berkeley stood and moved over to the policeman.
“Young man, you are speaking to the famous author, Mrs. Agatha Christie, CBE. Honored by Queen Elizabeth herself. Do you wish Mrs. Christie to mention your name to the queen?”
His knees began to shake, and Constable Jones could barely speak.
“No, sir.”
“Then I suggest you tell her what you know.”
Anthony sat back down as Jones spoke up.
“It is a death investigation. A Mrs. Garrett was found dead this morning by one of the staff here. The inspector believes she died of natural causes, but he is looking into it.”
“A suspicious death,” Agatha said. “We know all about those, don’t we?”
Everyone around the table nodded.
“We probably all have our own ideas about what might have happened, don’t we?” Anthony asked.
“I’m sure we do. No doubt we could each tell a tale,” Dorothy said.
“In that case, Dorothy, why don’t you go first?”
“I suppose I could. The obvious question is who died? We have word from the inspector that it was Mrs. Garrett, but was it? We haven’t seen the body, so we don’t know whose body it really is.”
“I don’t think there’s any doubt about the identity of the body,” Agatha said.
“Oh really?” Dorothy chuckled. “Several people here knew her, but did any of them identify her?”
“I assume someone did,” Freeman said.
“You should never assume, though. You should always ask to be sure.”
A couple of the people around the table nodded in agreement.
“Now, if it wasn’t Mrs. Garrett’s body, who was it? I suppose it could be anyone else here, but then they would be missing, too. Have we heard of anyone not being here?” She looked at the young constable.
He looked around the table, bewildered.
“I don’t think we asked,” he said.
“Hmm. Is that a clue? Mrs. Garrett is missing, and they brought in a body to replace her. Why would someone do that? Is she dead too, or is she part of the conspiracy?”
“I think you are jumping to a lot of conclusions,” Agatha said.
“The only way to solve a crime like this is to jump to conclusions. Is Mrs. Garrett a suspect or a victim?”
“The idea was for us to come up with reasonable explanations,” Anthony said. “You’re just making things up to try and see if anything sticks.”
Dorothy gave him a withering glance. “Perhaps next time you will go first, and see it is not as easy as you might imagine.”
Everyone around the table laughed. Constable Jones stood in the corner, confused by what was happening.
“If someone had a grudge against her they could easily have kidnapped her and put a body in her place.”
“Easily?” Margery muttered.
“Whoever had the grudge could have her right now, and we are sitting around talking instead of doing something.” Dorothy turned to Jones. “Go and find out if they identified the body.”
Once again he looked around the table, eyes wide, before turning and leaving the room.
“If you had a grudge against her, why not just kill her? And why wait until she is ninety years old before seeking revenge? You could just wait for her to die naturally,” John said.
“I admit, it seems implausible, but every one of our mysteries seems implausible at some point, don’t they?”
They were interrupted by Constable Jones returning to the room. Everyone looked at him expectantly.
“The inspector says the nurse identified the body as Mrs. Garrett,” he said.
“Well, that was a quick resolution. Assuming she wasn’t lying, I suppose my theory doesn’t hold any water.”
Dorothy looked around the table.
“Who’s next?”
“I will take my turn,” Anthony said. “I have had a few minutes to think about it and I believe I know what happened.”
The others all turned to him with a few raised eyebrows.
“First, Constable Jones, can you tell me in what state the body was found?”
The young constable blushed before speaking.
“Mrs. Garrett was seated in her chair. It appears she had made herself a cup of tea, sat down, and died. There were no signs of foul play.”
“Did she drink any of the tea?”
“I believe the inspector said most of the cup was gone.”
“Ah-hah! Just as I suspected, poison was involved. Now, who would have had access to her tea, I wonder?”
“There is a woman who regularly buys our supplies,” Freeman said. “Unless we choose to go out and make our own purchases.”
“And what about people who come in to visit?”
“Yes, everyone has regular visitors. The nurse and the housekeeper every day. Friends popping in from other cottages, or outside visitors. Oh, and of course the matron gets us all up every morning.”
Anthony thought for a moment. “I would hypothesize that the victim likely drank some tea yesterday evening, as most of us do. If it had contained poisoned at that time, she would have died last night. Therefore it was someone this morning. What time does the matron wake everyone?”
“We all have different times. Some rise early, some late, but the matron checks on everyone between seven and nine.”
“Is the matron the woman who met us this morning?” Agatha asked.
Freeman looked around to make sure nobody was listening. “No, that would be the manager, Mrs. Bartram. She is a bit of a busybody, likes to be in everyone’s business.”
“It doesn’t sound like you like them much.”
Freeman harrumphed before responding. “They do their jobs. Sometimes they act like prison guards though. I might wish to lie in of a morning, but the matron doesn’t give me the chance, does she?”
“You could always change what time she comes to wake you up,” Margery said.
Freeman harrumphed again.
“We are getting a little off topic,” Anthony said. “It seems clear that the matron had the best opportunity to poison the victim. How do we find out what her motive was?”
“She couldn’t have had any motive to do with the cottages,” Dorothy said. “She doesn’t have any financial involvement in them. Besides, someone else will move in and they will pay the same amount.”
“Could her motive be personal then?”
“I’ve never seen her have problems with any of the residents,” Margery said. “She’s very personable.”
“Without further investigation, I expect my theory will be that the matron poisoned Mrs. Garrett this morning for unknown reasons,” Anthony said. “I don’t think I can go much further than that without talking to her.”
“No,” Constable Jones said when they all looked at him. “It would be more than my job is worth to ask her to come here.”
“Never mind,” Anthony said. “I’m sure others have better ideas.”
“I do, for one,” Freeman said. The group turned to look at him.
“We shouldn’t necessarily look outside this group, should we?” he asked.
Everyone frowned at the suggestion.
“Dorothy, you were the last to arrive this morning. Where were you?”
Dorothy shrugged. “Getting ready and then coming over here, of course. But I wasn’t last. Why?”
“Agatha and young Carr came after you, but they were driving a long distance. It seems implausible they would work together to murder a stranger, too. I would excuse Berkeley, too, because he doesn’t live here either. No reason for him to be involved. Margery and I were here on time, but you were sufficiently late that we talked about it before you arrived.”
“What does my being late have to do with anything?”
Freeman indicated the wheelchair he sat in. “I was here before you, and I had this blasted chair to deal with. You have no problem walking, do you?”
“Of course not. I told you, I was just late.”
“You have a well-known problem with authority,” he said.
She smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”
“You don’t like to be woken by the matron, do you?”
“No. Just like you.”
“Ahh, but you have trouble with some of the residents, don’t you?”
“Not at all. I’m on friendly terms with almost everyone here.”
Margery laughed. “Dorothy, you are always telling us how people have done you wrong. If it’s not beating you at bingo, it’s getting the last bowl of pudding before you could get it.”
Dorothy looked at her friends, who were all staring at her.
“You can’t seriously think I was involved, just because I was late.”
“Of course not, dear,” Agatha said.
“Right. There’s more to it than that,” Freeman said. “You had history with Mrs. Garrett, didn’t you?”
“Not at all.”
“Yes you did. A week ago she bumped you on her way out. She apologized, but I saw the look you gave her.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Of course you do. You also know she was a senior figure in the government many years ago. You have always had trouble with authority.”
“I have no idea what she used to do,” Dorothy said. “I’ve never talked to her.”
Freeman Wills Crofts looked her directly in the eye.
“Isn’t that what a guilty person would say?”
Dorothy spluttered, unable to say anything to defend herself.
Freeman waited a moment before cracking a smile.
“You’re right. I’ve got nothing either.”
His words broke a spell everyone had seemed to be under. Even Constable Jones breathed a sigh of relief.
They took sips of their tea, although none of them noticed Dorothy glowering at each of them in turn.
“As a guest, I feel I should say something,” John Dickson Carr said.
They turned to him expectantly.
“And as an American, I feel I have to say something.”
Everyone laughed.
“I’m not sure there has been a murder, but this has been a lot of fun to listen to you all. Your off-the-cuff suggestions tell me I have a lot to learn about creating stories.”
He smiled at Agatha before he continued.
“Now, the first and most obvious point would be that this was not a murder at all. It could simply be the death of an old lady. What makes it intriguing is that she was in a locked room by herself. If someone did kill her, how?”
He looked at the people at the table as he warmed up to his subject.
“We bring up and then question the idea of poison. Anthony suggests the nurse poisoned the victim early this morning, but then says there’s no known motive. Assuming it was even poison, we’re only halfway to a solution. We also have to ask ourselves when the death actually occurred. Modern science can give us an estimate of when a death occurred within minutes of the actual event. Comparing this result with the schedule of the matron should tell us if she was involved.”
A few of the eyes watching him had glazed over as he said things which were obvious to each of them. John was pleased to see the young policeman paying rapt attention to his words.
“I do not know how these cottages work. In America we tend to have large buildings where we keep our old people once they have worn out their use to society. I think it is nice you want to keep people independent as much as you can.”
John watched in surprise as the members of the group recoiled when he mentioned people being worn out. He quickly realized he had painted several of the people around the table with the same brush. Rather than apologize, he pushed on.
“Still, it doesn’t help the detective solve a crime, does it? A wide-open space where virtually anyone could come and go, where they could kill as they wished without being detected.”
His foot was in his mouth again, and he saw Margery and Dorothy glance at each other. This probably wasn’t going to help his case, if he was going to make his witnesses scared of their own living arrangements.
“In conclusion, and if I were pushed in a particular direction, it would be this: it was poison, yes, but the old lady took it herself.”
There were a few gasps around the table but he raised his hand to quiet them.
“Why not? You’re old, you have no use to anyone, might not even have family or friends. What’s the point of going on when you can end it all quickly and quietly?”
Everyone sat in stunned silence, until Margery broke the tension.
“Well, that was a bleak outlook, wasn’t it?”
John looked at her.
“It’s as good as I can come up with on short notice. Can you do any better?”
Margery smiled.
“I hope so.”
John didn’t look impressed, but he sat and paid attention as everyone turned to the quiet woman.
“These cottages are partly funded by the government. It’s an experiment in helping the elderly to stay independent as long as they can, which keeps them out of more expensive care later.”
Everyone nodded their understanding.
“Unfortunately, where there is government money, there is crime. I believe a group of international criminals has been infiltrating the cottages, threatening the management and the residents.”
Constable Jones paid closer attention to what she was saying.
“I can’t say how long they have been doing this, but it’s longer than I’ve been here. They want the money we have, and they will do anything to get it.”
“Have they threatened you?” Anthony asked.
“I have not been their target, at least not yet. I don’t know who else might have been.”
She looked at the other two residents, Dorothy and Freeman, who both shook their heads.
“Anyway, I overheard Mrs. Bartram talking to a man, and saying she would get him the money when she could. He said if she didn’t get it, he would have to do something drastic.”
“Like murdering a resident?” Freeman asked.
“Perhaps so.”
“Wouldn’t he make it a little more obvious?” Agatha asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps that might bring too much attention to them.”
“I can’t see someone killing a resident at all, to convince them to pay up. Any kind of death would bring the authorities to investigate.” John pointed at Constable Jones as he spoke.
“All I know is what I heard,” Margery said. “You interpret it however you want.”
They looked at each other for a moment.
“It might be easier for them to take a hostage and threaten them, rather than go straight to killing,” Freeman said.
“They could take a whole group of hostages right here in this room if they wanted to.”
Everyone looked at Constable Jones, who stood a little straighter and looked around.
“I think we’re sufficiently protected,” Agatha said. “Besides, if this was an international criminal ring, I expect there would be a much bigger police presence.”
“Perhaps they’re coming down from Scotland Yard,” Margery said.
“And perhaps your imagination is running away from you,” Agatha replied.
“I don’t see you coming up with anything.”
“I might come up with something around the idea of Mrs. Garrett being a former member of the government. Perhaps they were spies out to get her.”
Everyone thought on that for a moment.
“It’s possible, I suppose,” Freeman said.
“This is why governments shouldn’t have secrets,” Dorothy said.
“We still haven’t heard your idea, Agatha,” Margery said.
“Yes, well, you’ve all been so fanciful. I don’t know if there’s anything else for me to suggest.”
“There must be something. You always have such good ideas.”
Agatha nodded.
“I was wondering why we should limit ourselves to a single murderer. It’s possible there could be more than one person involved.”
“More than one?” Freeman asked.
“Yes. When we drove in this morning there was a guard at the gate. He looked out of sorts, like he had been running. Could he have been up to no good before we got here?”
“You must mean Fred,” Dorothy said. “He’s a good man, always helping us out with whatever we need. I can’t believe he’d be involved in anything.”
“There was another person rushing between the buildings,” Agatha said, “and of course the manager was outside very quickly too.”
“I can imagine there was all sorts going on this morning, if they had discovered a dead resident,” Freeman said. “Mrs. Bartram probably wanted you out of the way before the ambulance and police arrived. This is a respectable establishment, after all, and it wouldn’t do for visitors to see the kinds of problems we have.”
Agatha looked at him. “Or, they could have been involved in a murder, and they wanted to make sure there were no witnesses.”
“I think they failed in that respect.”
Agatha looked about. “It seems we are at an impasse,” she said. “Each of us has an idea, of sorts, and we don’t know who might be correct. And since Constable Jones here is unlikely to tell us what really happened, we might remain in the dark.”
“If there was anything untoward I’m sure the residents will hear about it,” Dorothy said. “Plus it will probably be in all the newspapers.”
“I hope we shall find out. I would be most disappointed to think of there being a problem here and we are unable to help solve it.”
“We will certainly try to find out what is going on, and it will be an interesting story to tell at the next meeting of the Detection Club.”
They laughed, and fell into conversation about various members of the club, about books they had recently read, and those they were writing. Each of them wondered if there was a way to include the day’s events in a story.
They were so busy talking, none of them noticed Constable Jones slip out the door a few minutes later.
The door opened and Constable Jones came back in, this time followed by the inspector and Mrs. Bartram.
“Good morning, all,” Inspector Ashford said. “I understand you have a few ideas for me.”
“Oh, nothing of great importance,” Agatha said. “We were just passing the time.”
“I heard you were all famous detective novelists. I was hoping to hear what you had to say.”
“None of it was intended to influence your investigation,” Margery said. “That’s why we remained here instead of coming to help.”
“So you didn’t have any breakthroughs for me?”
“No. I did have a question for Mrs. Bartram though.” Margery turned to the manager. “I saw you telling a man you would get him some money. I wanted to know what that was about.”
Mrs. Bartram looked back and forth at everyone before answering.
“I guess you mean the florist. We owe him some money for all the flowers in The Grove, and he said if we don’t pay he won’t bring any more.”
Margery frowned. “I suppose that’s a reasonable explanation.”
“Are there any other questions?” Inspector Ashford asked.
He looked around the table to see everyone shaking their heads.
“Good. It’s hard enough to deal with a person’s death, even when they died of natural causes. I wouldn’t want to have to deal with people telling me my job.”
He turned and left, Mrs. Bartram following close behind. Constable Jones gave the authors a shrug, then walked out the door.
“Well I never.” Agatha shook her head and turned back to the group. “What an interesting way to pass a morning. Now, anyone for tea?”
THE END