by Sherri Bryan
As he disappeared, Fiona leaned forward and whispered, “You were joking about this being a treat, weren’t you?”
“Ma! MA! The cops are here.”
Richard Slade’s bellowing voice reverberated around the house as he banged on his mother’s bedroom door. “What? Dunno, they won’t say! And you won’t believe who it is.
“Trevor! TREVOR! Get your lazy backside out of bed. The cops are here.”
He reappeared in the living room.
“I was right. She’s not happy about being woken up and she’s going to be even less happy when she sees you.”
Trevor Slade was the first to join them.
“What’s going on?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned, treating them all to a ringside seat view of his tonsils.
Richard shrugged as he chewed his nails. “Dunno. Must be about Samuel, I s’pose.”
They sat in silence for what seemed like hours but it was only five minutes before Maureen Slade wheeled herself in from her ground-floor bedroom.
“There’s only one reason I can think of that you’d be calling round here at this time of night. It’s about my Samuel, isn’t it?” As her eyes, still heavy with sleep, began to focus she recognised the police officer standing in front of her.
She straightened herself up in her chair, her eyes narrowed with disdain. “You’ve got a nerve, Costello, coming into my house. You know, if I didn’t want to know so badly what you have to say, I’d will myself up out of this chair and kick your backside down the street. You scum. How dare you come round here after what you did to my family?”
Nathan waited until he was sure she’d finished speaking. “Mrs. Slade, Mr. Slade, Mr. Slade, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Maureen grabbed Richard’s hand. “I know what he’s going to say but I don’t want to hear it. I’m not ready for it.”
“Ma.” Richard stroked her hand. “We have to know. He has to tell us.”
Maureen glared at Nathan. “Alright, tell me, but get it over with quickly.” She tightened her grip on her son’s hand and closed her eyes.
“It is my sad duty to inform you that a body has been found on the marina and I’m very sorry to tell you that we believe it to the body of Samuel Slade.”
Maureen gasped and fell back in her chair, her breathing rapid.
Richard and Trevor leaned over her, their faces close to hers. “Ma? Ma! Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes, just give me some air.” Maureen pushed them away and sat slumped in her chair, a crumpled tissue held to her eyes. “What happened to him?”
“We’re not entirely sure yet but a post-mortem has been requested. We’ll know more when the findings of that come back.”
“Was it an accident?”
Nathan was reluctant to say too much. “We really don’t know for sure, Mrs. Slade, but as I said, the post-mortem will tell us more.”
“When will you know what happened to him?”
“We’re hoping that we’ll be in a better position to answer any questions you may have by tomorrow. As soon as we know anything, we’ll be in touch.”
“And when can I see him?” Maureen Slade pulled another tissue from a box at the side of her wheelchair.
“Tomorrow afternoon, hopefully, but we’ll confirm that.”
“Will you need one of us to identify the body?” Richard Slade turned to his mother. “Me or Trevor can do that, Ma. It’ll be too upsetting for you.”
Nathan nodded his thanks. “That will be very helpful, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m sorry to ask but would it be possible for one of you to come and do that now? The quicker the body is identified, the quicker we can move on with the investigation. We’ll take you and bring you back, of course.”
Richard Slade nodded. “Give me a minute to get dressed. Trevor, you stay here with Ma.”
As Richard left the room, Maureen Slater glared hatefully at Nathan.
“Right. You’ve said your piece. Now you can get out.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, you can get out. Go on! Leave us in peace!” She thrashed out, her voice frantic. “Tell me, Detective Chief Inspector. Why is it that you always bring bad news to my door? I bet you love it, don’t you? Coming round here to break the news to old Mrs. Slade that her son’s been bumped off?”
“I can assure you, Mrs. Slade, it gives me no pleasure at all to be the bearer of such dreadful news but, as you wish, we’ll leave you now. We’ll be in touch as soon as possible regarding the arrangements to see your son but, in the meantime, on behalf of the entire St. Eves police force, may I extend our sincere condolences to ...”
“Oh, save your breath.” A weary Maureen Slade turned her chair round and wheeled out of the room. “And it’d better not be you who gets in touch, Costello,” she called over her shoulder. “God help me if I ever have to speak to you again.”
ººººººº
Having formally identified the body of his brother, Richard Slade sat opposite Nathan in the police interview room, red-eyed but impassive.
“Are you sure you feel up to giving a statement, Mr. Slade? We can postpone this until later if you’d prefer?”
“No, let’s just get it over with. I don’t have very fond memories of cop shops so I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible. I’m sure you understand?”
“Okay. When did you last see your brother, Samuel, alive?”
“Thursday night. At home, around nine, I suppose. He was getting ready to go out.”
“On his own or were you and Trevor going with him?”
“No. He was going on his own. We didn’t often go out together - after spending so much time inside, we liked our own company, see? Samuel liked to go out drinking and womanising, Trevor just likes drinking, and I like to drive around. When you haven’t had your freedom for so long, it’s good to be able to get in your car and drive wherever you want to go”
“I see. And you didn’t see Samuel after he was getting ready at home?”
Richard shook his head. “Nope. I spoke to him, though. Just before quarter-past twelve. He was in The Bottle of Beer.”
“Why did you call him?”
“Because Ma wanted to know where he was. She worries about us since we got out of prison.”
“Was he with anyone, do you know?”
“No one in particular, I don’t think. Just the usual crowd who drink in the bar.”
“Okay, and after that? Do you know if he stayed in the bar for long, or if not, where he went when he left?”
Richard shrugged. “Dunno. He said he’d be back late, but he’s said that before and not come home.”
“We believe your brother had been wearing a watch. An unusual design - it had a hexagonal face. Do you know if he was wearing it when he left the house on Thursday evening?”
Richard shrugged again. “No idea. I didn’t make a habit of checking his wrists before he went out but I expect so, yeah. He usually wore it.”
“Can you give me a description of it, please?”
“I dunno ... gold, hexagon-shaped face. That’s all I can tell you.”
“How was your relationship with your brother, Mr. Slade?”
“What?”
“Your relationship with your brother. How was it?”
Richard laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, here we go. I agree to come in and answer some questions and you take advantage of the situation and start trying to fit me up.”
Nathan shook his head. “Not at all. I’m simply trying to ascertain how the relationship was between you and your brother.”
Richard laughed again. “Yeah, right. Okay, if you must know, it was crap. We’d never got on, even when we were young, but as we got older it got worse. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t stand the sight of him. And before you ask, no, I didn’t kill him. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t kill him.” He glared at Nathan. “Anyway, I don’t care what you think. You’ve got nothing on me. Can I go now?”
&nb
sp; Nathan tapped his pen on the desk. Richard Slade had been far more candid than he’d expected.
“Yes, you can go. Thank you for coming in.”
Fiona escorted Richard from the room, returning twenty minutes later after she’d dropped him home. “Well, Chief. What do you think?”
“Hmmm. I don’t know. I’m not convinced he’s the killer. I mean, he’s got the potential, I’m sure of that, but I’m not sure he’s the killer in this case. What about you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’s our man, Chief. Not one bit. I’ll definitely be keeping my eye on him, that’s for sure.”
Nathan leaned back in the chair and cradled his head in his hands. “He could be our man but we’ve a long way to go, and a lot of people to speak to, before we get to the bottom of this.
“Samuel Slade had a lot of enemies, some of whom, I’ve no doubt, will be toasting their good fortune as we speak. And one of them will have done the deed. The question is, which one?”
ººººººº
“That’ll be four more large breakfasts, two mediums and three scrambled eggs on toast, two with bacon, please.” Jess passed a ticket to Charlotte through the arch in the wall on an extremely busy Sunday morning.
“Oh my God! Where’s everyone coming from?” Charlotte moved swiftly around the kitchen, arranging tomatoes, bacon and sausages on the griddle, dropping hash browns into hot oil and chopping mushrooms to sauté in butter. She was opening a tin of baked beans when she cut her finger on the sharp edge of the lid.
“Ow! Damn it!” She ran her finger under the tap and put pressure on the cut with her thumb as she reached up onto the shelf for the first aid box.
She took out the long roll of sticking plaster and looked for the scissors to cut a piece off. No scissors.
She went through to the bar to fetch the other pair of scissors she knew they kept in a box along with all the pens that didn’t work, the small coins that no one wanted, bottle openers, screwdrivers, drinks coasters and emery boards. No scissors.
Where are they?
She scanned the café and spotted them on top of one of the fridges under the bar. As she reached for them, she inadvertently pushed them away and wasn’t quick enough to stop them from sliding across the polished steel surface and falling down behind the fridge.
“Damn, Damn Damn it!” She couldn’t cook with her finger pouring blood. She ran back into the kitchen to check on the food and called Jess in from the terrace.
“What’s up? Oh my gosh! Let me get you a plaster.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, we’ve got no scissors - they just fell down the back of one of the bar fridges. Can you just tear off a piece of sticky tape with your teeth and stick this piece of kitchen paper to my finger, please? As long as I’ve got something over the top of it to cover the bleeding, I can put this finger guard on it and get back to cooking. When everyone’s gone, perhaps you can help me pull the fridge out so I can reach behind it and get the scissors out?”
Temporary first aid completed, Charlotte got back to work. It occurred to her that the reason they’d been so busy without any let-up was because the forensic team was still working in the tent and bad news travelled fast. Like moths to a flame and driven by morbid fascination, people had flocked to the café for the chance to see a real life murder investigation in progress.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Ava’s dulcet tones.
“Morning, Charlotte, dear.”
“Hi Ava. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m so busy I can’t stop and chat just now.”
“Oh, it’s alright dear, I’ve only come to see if you have any copies of this week’s local newspaper left. I was in the middle of the crossword puzzle at home this morning and I knocked a cup of coffee all over it. Anyway, you don’t appear to have any.”
“Oh. Are there none under the paperweight at the end of the bar?”
“There are no papers and no paperweight either, dear.”
Charlotte plated up the breakfasts and rang the bell for Jess to pick them up. She wiped her hands on her apron and went out to the bar.
“You see, dear. No papers or paperweight. I did tell you.”
“Well, where on earth has that gone?” The snow globe paperweight that had been in the same place, at the end of the bar, for years, had vanished. “Sorry, Ava. I think you’ll be able to pick up a newspaper at the Mini-Mart, though.”
“Yes, dear, I’ll do that. They’re bound to have some.” Ava pulled her scarf around her neck as she prepared to brave the winter temperatures. “Don’t suppose you know anything yet about what happened yesterday, do you? Who the unfortunate person was? How they died? That sort of thing?”
Charlotte shook her head. As much as she loved Ava, discretion was definitely not her forte. If Charlotte put an ad on the front page of the local paper, you could bet the news wouldn’t reach as many people as it would on Ava’s gossip grapevine.
“Sorry, I don’t. I’m sure all the details will come out soon enough, though.”
“Hmm, I expect you’re right, dear. Well, I’m off to meet Harriett and Betty for our walk and then we’ll be in for lunch later. I do hope we’ll be able to get in - it’s terribly busy.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll reserve you a table. Would you like one next to the heater?”
“Oh, yes please. That would be lovely. Thank you, Charlotte. Right, I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Ava.”
ººººººº
“Well, it’s official. That was our busiest Sunday ever!” Jess flopped down on the empty terrace with a large cup of cappuccino and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I reckon I must have walked 100 miles today, in and out in and out.”
Charlotte came out with a cup of tea to join her. The area next to the café where the body had been found was still cordoned off and, as well as the tent remaining in place to protect any evidence, a police officer was stationed outside to make sure that it remained undisturbed until forensic work had been completed and the cordon had been removed.
“I know it’s not good when things like this happen but I’ll tell you what, Charlotte, it does wonders for business. I must have taken over £100 in tips today.”
“It’s certainly been a busy one.” Charlotte took a sip of her tea and turned her chair round to face the opposite direction so she wouldn’t have to be reminded of Samuel Slade’s unfortunate demise.
“How’s the finger?”
“Ooh, that reminds me. When you’ve finished your coffee, can you help me pull the fridge forward so I can get the scissors out?”
“Aw, come on Charlotte, do we have to do that now?”
“No, we don’t have to do it now but if we leave it, we’ll forget about it and then it’ll never get done and the next time we need the scissors, they’ll still be down the back of the fridge.”
Jess sighed. “Okay.” She swilled her cup round and round and drank the last of her coffee-flavoured foam. “Ready when you are.” She followed Charlotte into the café.
“Right. We can do this one of two ways. Either you pull the fridge out and I’ll squeeze in and get the scissors or I pull the fridge out and you get the scissors.”
“I’ll pull, you squeeze.”
Jess pulled the fridge forward and Charlotte manoeuvred herself into the small gap at the side to reach down behind it. She could just see the handle of the scissors on the tiled floor. Stretching out her arm, she felt for them blindly and, with a final reach, caught them in her fingertips.
“Got ‘em!”
“Thank goodness. My back’s killing me.” Jess prepared to gently drop the fridge back into place.
“Oh, hang on, what’s this?” As Charlotte looked up from her position on the floor, she saw that something was stuck to the underside of the bar with brown packing tape.
“Charlotte, can that wait? Honestly, I don’t think I can hold this fridge for much longer.”
“Oh, yes. Right. Just a sec.” She uncoiled herself
and took some of the weight from Jess as they lowered the fridge back into place.
“So what’s under there?”
“I don’t know but I think I’ll be able to reach it from here.” Charlotte stretched out again until her fingers felt the tape and she pulled hard until it came away in her hand, along with a large item, wrapped in brown paper.
“What is it?” Jess looked at the brown packet.
“No idea but by the amount of dust on it, it looks like it’s been there for years.” Charlotte opened it and took out three large notebooks. Inside each one were columns of text and figures in handwriting that was so scrawly, it was barely legible.
“Nothing very exciting, then?”
“Doesn’t appear to be.”
“Wonder whose they are?”
“No idea, but before I bought the café the estate agent told me that this entire bar was brought from an old pub that was selling off its fixtures and fittings before it was demolished. If that’s true, then the books probably have been there for years.” She looked at them again.
“It’s hard to tell because the writing’s so bad, but it looks like the oldest of these entries goes back over forty years. I doubt the owner will still want the books after all that time. If they’re still around, that is.” She tossed them onto the shelf behind the bar. “By the way, you haven’t seen the snow globe, have you?”
Jess immediately looked to the end of the bar. “Oh. It’s gone. No, I haven’t seen it. How weird. D’you think someone’s taken it?”
Charlotte shrugged. “No idea. It’s been here ever since I bought the cafe, pretty much, so I don’t know why it should go missing all of a sudden.”
“Y’know, I bet it was that Richard Slade. He was looking at it the other day, wasn’t he? Honestly, once a thief ...”
“Come on Jess, that’s a bit unfair. We don’t know it was him. We don’t even know that it’s been taken. Maybe it’s been mislaid.”
“How would a paperweight get mislaid?” Jess rolled her eyes. “You think what you like, lovie. I know what I think.”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh well, never mind. It’ll either turn up or it won’t. Come on, let’s get cleared up and go home.”
