Charlotte Denver Cozy Mystery Box Set

by Sherri Bryan

  Strange place for a tattoo shop. Wouldn’t have thought they’d get much business here.

  As Nathan pushed open the door, a buzzer announced his arrival and a young man with a heavily tattooed face didn’t look up from the forearm he was working on.

  “Be with you in a sec. Sit down in the den if you want, take the weight off. Our portfolio’s on the table if you need some design ideas.” He looked up. “It’s just over there…oh, I guess you’re not interested in looking through our design portfolio?”

  Nathan grinned. “Is it that obvious? No, I’m not here to get inked. I’d just like to have a word with someone who can answer a couple of questions. I’m DCI Costello from the St. Eves station.”

  “’kay. If you don’t mind waiting, Josie will be back soon. She’s only gone out to get some sandwiches—she won’t be long. This guy’s in his lunch break, see, so I’ve got to finish up so he can get back to work.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll wait.”

  Nathan sat down on a bean bag in the den. The walls were full of photographs of Frankie, and Nathan guessed that since his death, the shop had most likely become a less vibrant, quieter place without its namesake.

  A pile of magazines and newspapers offered an eclectic selection of reading matter. As he flicked idly through it, it occurred to him that, apart from the tattoo design magazines, the alternative reading material was rarely, if ever, updated.

  Good grief, some of this stuff’s older than me. A special edition of ‘Hey You!’ magazine covering the wedding of Prince William to Catherine Middleton looked to be the most current in the pile.

  Oh no, hang on…this could be interesting. He pulled a copy of ‘Tats Monthly’, a magazine devoted to tattoo news and which was only a little over a year old, from the middle of the pile. The magazine’s cover promised an interview with tattoo artist, Frankie Ingram, following his fourth nomination for an accolade at the International Tattoo of the Year Awards.

  Nathan thumbed through the magazine until he reached the feature, the first picture of which was a full-page, colour photograph of Frankie, leaning casually against the front window of the shop, grinning widely and surrounded by all his employees, each wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo St. Eves Believes in Frankie!

  The buzzer announced the return of Josie with the sandwiches and he accosted her immediately. “Good afternoon, I’m DCI Costello.” He showed her his warrant card. “Sorry, I know you’re on a lunch break but this won’t take long. I need to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Oh, alright. Is it to do with the shop? We’re all still waiting to find out what’s going to happen, see. Since Frankie died, we don’t know if we’re going to stay open or what. I’m a key holder so I can still open up but we’re still waiting to hear from his brother. He put half the money in, see, but he’s a sleeping partner. Anyway, there’s usually seven of us but since it happened, Amy and Casper have been too upset to come in to work. Not that the rest of us haven’t been upset, but if we all stayed at home, who’d keep the place running? Some of us have to…”

  “Look, sorry to interrupt. No, it’s not about the shop. It’s about rotas. I assume you had rotas to tell everyone when they were working, to record holidays, that sort of thing?”

  “No, Frankie didn’t use rotas; we just used the diary.”

  “Perfect. Can you tell me who was working on Friday 17th and Saturday 18th March, please?”

  Josie flicked back through the pages. “Okay, here we are...oh blimey, I remember now. That was the weekend Amy was away so we were short-staffed. It was a bloody nightmare.

  “Right, let’s see…so Frankie was working on the Friday with me, Casper, and Giles, and on Saturday, I worked with Trinny, Casper, and Giles, and Bethany came in to do eleven till seven.”

  Nathan’s heart sank. If Frankie had been working on the Friday, his hunch had been wrong. There was no way he could have been in London at six-thirty if he’d been working at the shop, 300 miles away.

  He’d wondered if it could possibly have been Frankie who’d been at the house in March and when Penny had confirmed that Frankie had had his own key, it seemed that he was on the way to solving the mystery. Maybe Frankie had let himself into Penny and Owen’s house while they’d been away and helped himself to the London house key for a quick visit with a lady friend?

  Nathan didn’t for a minute think that Frankie had been responsible for meddling with the hot tub—after all, why would he have jumped in first if he’d been the person responsible for causing the damage?—but he had hoped that his hunch would, at least, solve the mystery of who the neighbour had seen visiting the house.

  It seemed, though, that his hunch was wrong. Frankie had been working on the day the neighbour claimed to have seen visitors at the house.

  “Oh, right. So you’re sure? Frankie was definitely here on the Friday 17th?”

  The phone rang and Josie excused herself as she answered it. “Afternoon, Ingram’s Ink. Josie speaking.”

  As Nathan waited for her to finish, he flicked over the page of the magazine and stared at the next picture of Frankie’s feature. He froze as he began to process the information in it.

  “Sorry about that.” Josie gave him a wide smile. “So anyway, yes, Frankie was working on Friday 17th. But only until twelve-thirty.”

  “What?”

  “He was only working until twelve-thirty. He had the rest of the day off, see, and the Saturday, too. I remember now, thinking back, it was chaos trying to share all his appointments out between us. D’you remember, Giles? He only decided to take the time off a couple of days before, so we didn’t have a lot of time to rearrange the diary.”

  Still clutching the magazine, Nathan was already halfway out of the front door. “Thank you, you’ve been very helpful. Oh, and I’m borrowing this.” He waved the magazine in the air and ran to his car.

  He almost didn’t dare to think that, at last, everything was starting to fall into place. He glanced at the headline, TATTOO ARTIST SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY WOMAN IN SWANKY CITY HOTEL.

  Underneath it was a picture of Frankie and a woman being besieged by a swarm of photographers and doing their best to escape in a lift. He had a protective arm around her and his other arm outstretched, fingers splayed in front of a camera lens, and she had her head down and her arms up across her face. Before the lift doors closed, the photographer had not only captured them head on, but also their reflections in the smoked glass mirrors on the walls behind them.

  The tattoo on the back of Frankie’s head was clearly visible.

  And so were the blonde tresses of hair escaping from underneath the woman’s hat and the spray of purple orchids on her calf.

  Chapter 12

  “To Frankie.” Penny raised her glass and everyone joined her in a toast. “May he be covering the cherubs in heaven with his beautiful art. Thank you all so much for coming. I know that Frankie would be over the moon that so many of you turned out to celebrate his life—it’s been a wonderful afternoon.”

  Frankie Ingram’s memorial service had just come to an end and Charlotte was playing taxi driver.

  “Thanks so much for a lovely time, Penny…even though I didn’t know Frankie very well, you made him sound so familiar, I felt like I did…we both did, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, we did,” echoed Jess. “It was so nice of you to invite me, even though I didn’t know him at all.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. Amy and I are so glad you could come. We just wanted to fill the place with people we knew Frankie loved, and would have loved, and we’re sure he would have loved both of you…you’ve been so kind to us.

  “Well, I’m glad to see that Ruby looks so much better than I expected her to be. When I saw Amy the other day she said she’d been in a terrible state,” said Charlotte.

  Penny nodded. “Yes, she was determined to come to the memorial so she’s been trying to manage without the pills. The doctor told her to only take one if she really needs it to help her sleep.
And I’m glad she’s eaten quite a bit this afternoon, which is more than she’s done for days.”

  “Well, if she does suddenly get tired, at least she only has to go up the stairs to bed,” said Charlotte.

  “Oh no,” said Penny. “Ruby’s not staying here now…she’s been at Amy’s since yesterday.” She looked embarrassed. “To tell you the truth, I’m relieved—I don’t really want any negative vibes around Zac and it was all getting pretty intense with her staying here. I mean, I love her to death, but I mentioned it to Amy and she offered Ruby a place at her apartment. She’s done us all a favour by letting her stay there—it’s like an oasis of calm and Ruby needs some peace and quiet to get herself together. We’ve got a toddler and dogs, so the antithesis of quiet!” She looked at her watch.

  “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I must get off and give Zac his bath. Thanks again for coming. Amy! Charlotte and Jess are leaving now if you want to say goodbye.”

  A red-nosed Amy approached. “Thanks for coming, both of you. Frankie would have been so chuffed that so many people turned up. It’s just such a shame that Eddie couldn’t be here ‘cos he loved Frankie to bits but something came up and he had to go and visit his mum.”

  Charlotte knew that, after Eddie’s confession to Nathan about the fake blackmail attempt, and his mother’s confession to the police about David Travis’ murder, he had gone to stay at her place until she found out what her fate would be. Witholding evidence in a murder investigation was a crime, and it was still being debated whether he, himself, would face any charges. She wondered how much he’d told Amy.

  Amy wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “We’re going back to my place now—I think Ruby needs to get to bed. She’s a lot better than she was but she’s ever so tired…hang on, I’ll call her over. Ruby! Rubes! Come and say goodbye while I go and get our coats.”

  Ruby hugged Charlotte and Jess. “Thanks for coming to say goodbye to Frankie. He loved life, he really did. It wasn’t right that he died—it wasn’t his time. But I know his death will be avenged.” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows, maybe even tonight.”

  “Right.” Amy reappeared with the coats. “Come on, Rubes. It’s time we went home, I think. Thanks so much for making time for Frankie,” she said to Charlotte and Jess. “It means a lot to all of us. I hope we’ll see you both again soon.” She linked her arm in Ruby’s and they disappeared through the dispersing crowd.

  “She knows his death will be avenged?” said Jess. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think that might have been the medication talking,” said Charlotte. “She must still have some of it in her system, even if she hasn’t taken any today. Poor thing, I feel sorry for her.”

  On the way out to the car, a tattooed DJ who’d played Frankie’s favourite music throughout the afternoon was talking loudly on his phone.”

  “Oh no! I’ve got a gig to get to at ‘The Bottle of Beer’ on the marina. How the hell am I going to get there? Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

  “Wonder what that’s all about?” said Jess.

  “Don’t know, but I’m about to find out.” Charlotte tapped the man on the shoulder.

  “Sorry, I just overheard your phone call. We’re on our way back to St. Eves town centre. Has something happened?”

  “There’s been an accident on the main road into town. That was my wife—she’s been stuck in traffic for over an hour.”

  “Oh, I hope it’s not serious—has anyone been hurt?”

  “Don’t think so. A lorry jack-knifed and it’s blocked both lanes of the dual carriageway. No injuries, according to the reports, just a lot of very irritable drivers. Anyway, the traffic’s nose to tail all the way into and out of town, so if you’re going that way be prepared for a very long delay.”

  He walked off, phone to his ear.

  “Well, I don’t know about you,” said Charlotte, “but I don’t fancy sitting in that for hours. What about you?”

  “Not really. How about we have a drink somewhere?” said Jess. “Hopefully, the traffic will clear soon.”

  They walked down the main street, past pubs, coffee shops and wine bars until a small bistro caught their eye. It was strung with lights, and candles on the tables inside gave it a cosy glow.

  “How about here?” said Charlotte.

  “Looks perfect,” said Jess.

  They’d barely sat down at a table when a voice called out, “Charlotte! Tess! Is that you? It’s us! Over here!”

  Cindy Powell, Brenda Tatum, and four other women were sitting at a table on the other side of the bistro, sharing two large pepperoni pizzas.

  “Oh no! If I have to look at one more photograph of Adam Pitt…” Charlotte whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

  “I swear, if she calls me Tess one more time…” Jess whispered back.

  “Hello, we thought it was you.” Cindy took a large bite out of a slice of pizza.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” said Jess.

  “We’ve just held a vigil near Adam’s house. Just a few members this time because it’s the weekend and people have other things to do, you understand. And then we found out there’s been an accident on the road back into town so we’re sitting here killing time. Care to join us?”

  For the next half hour, Cindy, Brenda and the rest of ‘The Pittettes’ exhibited their impressive recollection of virtually every move Adam Pitt had made over the past years.

  While their stories kept each other entertained, Charlotte and Jess were bored stiff.

  “My cheeks are killing me,” whispered Jess. “Forcing yourself to smile for thirty minutes isn’t easy, you know.”

  “I’m going to try Nathan again. Tell him I’ll be late back.” Charlotte dialled the number but got a message that it was unobtainable. She tried three more times with the same result. “Can’t get him. I’ll try again in a bit. I bet he’s…” She suddenly became aware of the conversation that was going on across the table.

  “Anyway, I much prefer her hair when it’s blonde. Although it’s a beautiful colour, the brown is much too dark for her skin tone—it makes her look washed out. It was very unfair of him to ask her to do it, I think.”

  “Who are we talking about now?” Jess tried to involve herself in the conversation.

  “Ruby Pitt,” said Cindy. “I was just saying how I prefer her original hair colour. Adam should never have asked her to change it—it was very unfair of him. Apparently, he thought she was getting too much attention when it was blonde so he asked her to tone it down.”

  “The thing is, she likes it blonde so, every now and then, she changes it back. It’s a constant battle between the two of them,” said Brenda. “It’s terribly bad for her hair, though, stripping it of colour to take it back to its natural state. She goes to see a top trichologist in London, apparently, because it’s become so thin.”

  “Yes, that’s why she wears a hat so often,” said Cindy.

  Charlotte felt like she’d been smacked in the face as everything started to clear in her mind.

  Events that had been foggy and jumbled became vivid as she gained clarity of thought. She closed her eyes and, as she recalled the events of the day of Frankie’s death, Big Al’s words suddenly came into her head; “Sometimes you just gotta look at the bigger picture to see what’s going on right under your nose.”

  She gasped as she remembered the most vital clue—the one she’d unwittingly been keeping to herself for so long, which had been encouraged out by Cindy’s recent revelation.

  As she thought back to Penny and Owen’s barbecue that afternoon in London, everything became un-muddled.

  She’d been swinging back and forth in the chair and everyone had been chatting and laughing at Amy and Frankie’s dash to the hot tub.

  After that, everything had happened so quickly and so close together that she hadn’t been able to separate events in her muddled mind but now, they were crystal clear.

  When the swing had abru
ptly stopped swinging she’d heard a single, strangled scream amongst the laughter, immediately followed by the splash as Frankie had jumped into the tub. After that, everyone had been begun screaming as confusion reigned.

  Ruby had stopped the swing as she realised the man she loved was about to jump to his death.

  About to jump to his death.

  She’d stopped it before anything had happened. Just like she’d screamed before anything had happened because she knew the hot tub was dangerous.

  And the only reason she knew the hot tub was dangerous was because she’d been the person who’d made it that way.

  She would bet her life that Ruby Pitt had been the woman with blonde hair who the neighbour had seen.

  And why hadn’t she disposed of the screwdriver she’d used on the hot tub?

  Charlotte was convinced now, that she knew the answer. It was because of her OCD—“a place for everything and everything in its place,” her father used to say. Ruby had to put the screwdriver back in its box, along with all the rest of them, because her OCD forced her to. She must have been kicking herself when she realised she might have left traces of her DNA on it.

  “Oh my goodness!” Charlotte stood up, spilling her tea all over the tablecloth.

  “What is it? You haven’t got wind again, have you?” said Jess, jumping up with her.

  “No, no. What was it that Ruby said again? About being avenged?”

  “Erm, something about knowing that Frankie’s death will be avenged. Maybe tonight,” said Jess. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Look, we have to get hold of Nathan. Or Ben or Fiona, or someone at the station. They have to get to Amy’s apartment. I’ll call Penny, you try Nathan.”

  “Well, I’ve got Ben here. What do you want me to tell him?”

  “Tell him to get hold of Nathan and get to Amy Baker’s ASAP or they’ll have another body on their hands!”

  ººººººº

  “Oh dear! Just when you thought you were all cried out.” Amy wiped her face on her sleeve. “Have you got any more tissues?”