by Sherri Bryan
She slapped her forehead when she saw him. “Sorry! I completely forgot to collect the fish.”
She was referring to the box Garrett was holding, which contained freshly-caught fish for her ‘Friday Specials’ menu. She took it from him as he came through the swing door into the kitchen.
“Thanks for bringing it down for me.”
“Don’t worry about it — I thought it was strange when you didn’t show up but when I heard about the murder, I guessed that might have been the reason for you being delayed. It was one of Tom’s family, apparently.”
“Yes, I know. It was one of his daughters — the twin. I was on my way to the marina this morning when I bumped into Ava, Harriett and Betty. They’d just found the body in the car park of The President. Can you believe it? After the murder last year, I thought we’d all be able to get on with our lives without having to worry about being clunked over the head by some maniac.”
Charlotte quickly scaled, gutted and deboned the fish as she talked non-stop, venting her anxiety on the task in hand.
“Come here, you worrywart.” Garrett held open his arms and his goddaughter stepped into them. After years as skipper of one of the fishing boat fleet, Garrett’s body was strong and hard and, as Charlotte smelled the sea on his skin and felt his muscular arms around her, her anxiety began to drain away.
“Thanks, Garrett. I needed that.” She kissed his cheek and tasted salt on her lips. “Right, guess I’d better settle up — what do I owe you?”
ººººººº
The usual stream of regulars and holidaymakers ensured that Charlotte and Jess were kept busy. Unsurprisingly, the main topic of conversation was the murder which everyone seemed to know about but if they didn’t, Ava, Harriett and Betty soon filled them in.
It was just before two when a tall, lanky young man with a moody expression walked into the café. His jet black hair hung limply to his shoulders, its blackness in stark contrast to his face which was caked in white makeup. Multiple piercings, along with a chain that hung from his nostril to his stretched earlobe gave the young man a style that was certainly individual, albeit somewhat intimidating.
Jess was outside on the terrace when he came inside, so Charlotte went out to speak to him. “Hi, what can I get you?” She tried not to stare at his piercings, his chain, or his stretched earlobe, so instead, focused on his nose, which had a long, angry-looking scratch on it.
“Hi. My name’s Ryan Benson — I’m from Pensands, but it’s so quiet there, I thought I might have better luck asking here. I’m looking for a job — not a permanent one, though. Just evening, weekend or holiday work. Do you have anything?”
He spoke clearly and eloquently and Charlotte felt ashamed that she was surprised. It seemed to be the norm these days to get nothing more than a grunt out of most teenagers.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t. You could try the other bars and restaurants on the marina, though. They might have something. Or maybe even the Mini-Mart a couple of doors down.”
“Okay, I will. Thanks. Can I get a cup of tea in the meantime, please? I’m meeting someone here.” He pulled out a handful of coins from his pocket and left some money on the bar.
“Ah, a man after my own heart.” Charlotte smiled as she poured hot water into a blue teapot with a picture of a sunflower on it. “I love a nice cup of tea.”
The young man smiled, and Charlotte was delighted to see his face light up.
“Me, too. I hate coffee. It gives me the shakes.” He took the tea and sat at a table in the corner, his morose expression quickly returning as he rubbed his finger over the scratch on his nose.
“Who’s the Goth?” whispered Jess when she came in to get some drinks.
“A customer.” Charlotte grinned as she whispered back. As she said it, she realised why the young man had seemed familiar. She was sure it was him she’d seen arguing with Bella Potts the day before.
The thought had only just crossed her mind when Bella herself walked in, heads turning in her wake. Her pink-streaked, blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she wore a short, black dress covered with a black, velvet, hooded jacket, ripped black fishnet tights and neon-pink army boots. With her face painted deathly white and her coal-black lips, she was a formidable sight. Chewing gum and wearing dark glasses, she made a beeline for Ryan and plonked herself down on his lap before taking the gum out of her mouth and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips.
“Erm, do you mind? Not in here, thank you,” said Charlotte through the arch, firmly but kindly — she remembered what it was like to be their age. She also remembered that Bella had just lost her aunt. “By the way, I was sorry to hear of your aunt’s passing,” she said to the young girl. “Please give my condolences to your family.”
Bella Potts put the gum back in her mouth and gave a sulky shrug. “Whatever,” she said, getting up from Ryan’s lap and throwing herself down onto the chair next to him.
Outwardly, she gave the appearance of a spoilt and truculent teenager, angry at the world. However, it didn’t escape Charlotte’s attention that she kept her dark glasses on and she wondered if the reason was to hide her eyes, bloodshot from crying over the loss of her aunt rather than as some overused fashion statement.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come — y’know, with what happened to your aunt Miranda,” said Ryan, rubbing his nose.
“Oh, yeah, of course.” Bella’s voice dripped sarcasm. “’Cos she was, like, my favourite aunt. Not.”
“Can I get you anything?” asked Jess as she passed by the table.
“Lemonade with blackcurrant cordial,” said Bella, not raising her head. She realised that Jess hadn’t moved and looked up at her. “Yes?” she said, with obvious irritation.
“’Lemonade with blackcurrant cordial….’” Jess repeated the request with a pause, looking encouragingly at Bella to finish the sentence.
It was difficult to see whether Bella had a blank look on her face but, witnessing the scene from the kitchen, Charlotte guessed she probably did. She chuckled to herself as Jess continued with her impromptu lesson on the importance of good manners.
“What?” said Bella. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. You want me to say it again? Okay … LEMONADE WITH BLACKCURRANT CORDIAL. Is that better?”
“Bella, for God’s sake. Just say please, will you?” said Ryan, his face turning pink.
Bella looked at Jess and Charlotte looked on with interest. If this was turning into a battle of wills, she knew who her money was on. Jess was as stubborn as the proverbial mule when it came to matters of principle and Charlotte knew she’d never back down, even if it meant Bella Potts leaving the café without being served.
Bella laughed a humourless laugh. “Oh, my God! Really? I mean, really? Am I in a time warp? Have I been transported back to primary school? Do I have to raise my hand when I need to go pee-pee? Listen — my aunt died this morning, and you want me to say please?”
“You just said you didn’t even like your aunt,” interrupted Ryan, and Bella jerked her head towards him, her lips pursed in fury. He held up his hands in a defensive stance. “Just sayin’.”
Charlotte looked on from the kitchen. It’s a good thing Bella’s wearing dark glasses, she thought. I reckon that glare would have been enough to turn poor Ryan to stone.
Jess stood her ground. “I’m truly sorry that you’ve lost your aunt.” Her voice was kind. “But that’s no reason to lose your manners, too.”
Under her white makeup, Bella’s hot face flushed from neck to her forehead. She debated whether she should continue arguing with Jess but thought better of it. Having evaluated her chances against the feisty waitress, she figured she was in a lose/lose situation.
She sighed. “Can I have a lemonade with blackcurrant cordial … please.”
Jess smiled. “Coming right up.”
Charlotte smiled to herself. She happened to think that if the young girl could find it in herself to come out and meet
her boyfriend a few short hours after her aunt’s death, then she could find it in herself to say please and thank you. The altercation had come to the conclusion she’d guessed it would.
“There you go, one lemonade with blackcurrant.” Jess delivered the drink to the table and left Bella and Ryan in peace.
Charlotte watched the couple from the kitchen and wondered how long they’d been together. Bella was stroking the scratch on Ryan’s nose and they had their heads close together, talking quietly.
She’d known that Tom had had family living nearby, but she’d had no idea that they’d lived close enough for Bella to have had a boyfriend in a neighbouring village. As far as she knew, they had never been to visit Tom in the eight years she’d owned the café. Some family, she thought.
As she plated up a steak pie with creamed potatoes and green beans, and a bubbling dish of savoury mincemeat pancakes with a crispy cheddar crust, she heard Bella say,
“Listen, I’ve told you. Don’t worry about the money. I’ll get it for you. My mum and dad have got more money than they know what to do with. Just leave it to me … and have a little faith in me, will you?” She’d taken off her glasses now and was gazing lovingly into Ryan’s eyes.
“I do have faith in you, but I need to know that I can get the money soon. If I can’t get it, all my plans will come to nothing, and I’m not ready to let that happen. How soon d’you think you’ll be able to get it?”
“Look, I’ll ask my mum tonight — she’s a much softer touch than my dad. She’s bound to say yes straight away. After that, I guess it’ll take a couple of days to get the money and then I can give it to you. It’s Friday today, so I reckon I should have the money on Tuesday. Will that be okay?”
“Really? You really think you could get it that soon? Even with what’s happened to your aunt? Oh, Bella, that would be amazing if you could.” Ryan pulled her hands up to his lips and covered them in kisses.
Bella giggled with delight. “I’ll speak to my mum later — if I can get her off that online poker site for long enough, that is.” She rolled her eyes.
In the kitchen, Charlotte had heard every word of their furtive conversation. Interesting, she thought as she rolled the pastry for another steak pie. Wonder what he needs money for? Anyway, none of my business.
She wrapped the pastry in plastic wrap and put it into the fridge to chill before going out into the café to chat with some customers. Leaving Ryan and Bella to their own company, she stopped instead at a table a short distance from theirs, at which sat Ava with Leo Reeves. They sometimes popped into the café in the afternoon on their way back from wherever they’d been and always sat together if they saw each other.
Ava had evidently recovered from her shock of stumbling across a dead body earlier in the day and had been out to get her hair done.
As Charlotte stopped by their table, she said, “Good afternoon, Ava, Leo. It’s nice to…”
“Ssshhh.” Ava put her finger on her lips and shushed her, motioning that she should sit down with them.
Charlotte looked in puzzlement from Ava to Leo and sat down. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
Ava jerked her head sideways to where Ryan and Bella sat. “Those two are up to no good, if you ask me. He needs money and she’s just told him that she’s going to ask her mother for it tonight. D’you know what I think he needs it for?” Ava leaned forward, and Charlotte and Leo leaned in on either side of her. “For his drug dealer!” she whispered, with a dramatic flourish.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Ava!” Charlotte whispered. “Just because he’s got piercings and wears makeup doesn’t mean he’s into drugs.”
“You mark my words,” said Ava, patting the back of her immaculately set hair, “and see if I’m wrong.” She took the last sip of her sherry. “Now, when is this rain ever going to stop? I’m going to lose all my bounce if I step out in this weather.”
Leo gave Charlotte a roguish wink. “And we wouldn’t want that to happen, would we, Ava? Tell you what, would you like to keep me company with another sherry while we wait for it to brighten up?”
As Charlotte went to fetch the drinks, she heard Bella say, “Okay, so £20,000 it is. I’ll call you just as soon as I’ve spoken to my mum.”
£20,000! Good grief — what on earth can someone of Ryan’s age need £20,000 so desperately for? Charlotte eyed the young man as she took a bottle of burnished, gold-coloured liquid from behind the bar and poured it into a sherry glass.
A feeling of unease began to creep through her. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been wrong about someone. She was so trusting, she often made rash judgments about people’s characters, only to later find out that they weren’t the people she’d thought they were.
Maybe there’s more to Ryan than meets the eye, after all.
Chapter 5
For the second time in twelve months, Charlotte watched Nathan give a TV appeal for witnesses to the latest crime to rock St. Eves.
“If you have any information at all — however insignificant you may think it to be — please call our incident room on 070 123 321, where officers are waiting to take your call. Rest assured that your call will be treated in the strictest confidence, and if you prefer to remain anonymous, you do not have to give your name. If it’s more convenient, you may, of course, come in to the station and give your information to an officer in person
“All murder is brutal, but the attack on Miranda Potts was a particularly brutal one. A young woman out on her own — attacked and cut down in the prime of life. Although we have no reason to believe that the killer will attack again, it’s imperative that we catch them soon, and in so doing, restore peace of mind to our community, and to any visitors to St. Eves.
“Finally, may I reassure you all that crime such as this is very rare, and we are doing everything in our power to bring Miss Potts’ killer to justice. While I would ask you to maintain a degree of vigilance at this time, please do not allow this incident to prevent you from carrying on with your usual day-to-day activities.
“The number for the incident room will remain on the bottom of your screen throughout the following news bulletin, and we look forward to receiving any information you think may be of use in helping to further our enquiries. Thank you.”
Charlotte flicked the channel over to a Saturday morning cookery program, distractedly spooning muesli into her mouth as she watched a celebrity chef go into mini-meltdown when his goat’s cheese soufflé failed to rise on live TV.
Usually, she loved watching the program — the café was closed on Saturdays, and this was her favourite way to start her only day off in the week. Today, however, her mind was on other things.
She thought about the murder and subsequent events. Nathan had asked her not to get involved, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try and work out who the killer was. In any case, if she came to any earth-shattering conclusions she’d be sure to let him know. The sooner the murderer was behind bars, the better.
She thought about the conversation she’d overheard and wondered if she’d missed any latent clues. She played it over in her mind, but nothing struck her as being particularly helpful in finding Miranda’s killer.
Come on, concentrate, she told herself and went over the conversation again, making notes as she went.
1. Ellis and Greg were arguing about Miranda keeping the ticket.
2. Victoria got dragged in halfway through.
3. Ellis got mad with Greg and Victoria because neither of them wanted Miranda to keep the ticket.
4. Rachel came in to find out what was going on.
5. Ellis walked out, and that was that.
She looked at her notes and scratched her head. Nope, not a clue in sight.
She’d talk to Nathan about it later over dinner. Maybe he’d be able to glean something more useful from the information.
ººººººº
“Penny for them,” said Charlotte, as she swung her legs back and forth on a high bar sto
ol and sucked her Long Island Iced Tea through a straw.
“Hhmm?” Nathan stirred his double espresso, seemingly in a world of his own.
“Penny for your thoughts. You’ve been miles away for the past ten minutes.”
“Have I? Sorry, babe. I was thinking about the investigation.” He raised the cup to his lips and inhaled the rich aroma before savouring his first sip.
Charlotte desperately wanted to know everything about the case but had learned from the last murder that, as far as Nathan was concerned, the less she knew, the better. Last time round, she’d developed a knack for becoming involved in things she really shouldn’t have and, on occasions, Nathan had been less than pleased.
“Is there anything you can tell me?” she asked. “I promise I’ll be the soul of discretion.” She zipped her fingers across her lips to illustrate her point.
Nathan looked around the restaurant. It was Saturday evening and they were having an early dinner at Porcinis, an Italian vegetarian restaurant on the marina that served the most exquisite food. A devout carnivore, he’d been convinced he was going to hate everything about the rustic eatery, at which the waiters would appear behind you when you were least expecting them, with super-sized pepper mills in hand. Charlotte had had to drag him there the first time they’d visited.
However, after one mouthful of his Roquefort and walnut pâté with cranberry jam, he’d been willing to accept that he might have been wrong in making such hasty assumptions, although it was the mushroom, chestnut and apricot parcel that had really swung it. Its deliciously savoury filling in a melt-in-the-mouth puff pastry shell had had him enthusing about the little restaurant for days afterwards, with the mint chocolate cheesecake dessert helping to seal the deal.
“Well,” he said, quietly. “The coroner’s report came back and confirmed the cause of death as being a blow to the head with a stiletto heel — the heel on the victim’s shoe, to be exact.” He sighed and blew out his cheeks. “What’s really puzzling me at the moment, though, is how she ended up on the ground in the first place to allow the killer to remove her shoes. I mean, I can’t imagine she was the type of person to go down without a fight, and she was a pretty sturdy woman, so unless she was attacked by a group of people, it can’t have been easy to knock her down.”
