by Fiona Grace
“We had witness reports saying he would hang around the bandstand for hours at peculiar times of the day. Add that to the report from the attempted robbery at your store, where he was on site during it yet apparently heard nothing, you can see how it built up a picture.” Then he chuckled and shook his head. “Just turns out he’s very committed to meditation. Can block out the entire world. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life!”
At the mention of his meditation habits, Lacey pictured the way he’d hover silently in the corner of her office.
“Wait,” she said with a sudden thought. “He’s in the middle of a silent holy prayer. How did you get him to speak?”
“We didn’t at first. Took a call to the head abbot to convince him the big guy upstairs wouldn’t be offended on this one occasion.”
Lacey grimaced at the thought of Abbot Weeks receiving a call from the Wilfordshire police. He’d sent the monk with her to protect the scepter, and she’d gotten him embroiled in a murder case. She suspected he would have something to say about that, once she made it back to the store.
“Anyway,” Turner added, “he’s gone back to being silent again now. Reset the clock, too, I reckon. Another ten days. Poor bugger. Oh look, there he is now.”
Lacey looked over to see the monk coming down the steps of the Lodge. She couldn’t imagine him talking, she was so used to his silent mannerisms, but she imagined he’d have a very calm, soothing voice.
As he walked toward her, Lacey tried to picture him as the troubled youth he’d once been, as a man capable of violence. There was nothing in him anymore that even hinted at the person he’d been before. He was calm. Tranquil. At peace. The monastery’s program had saved him, and Lacey’s desire to value and sell the scepter to keep St. Cyril’s operating reared back to life. She’d gotten sidetracked by the murder case for selfish reasons. But there were greater and more important things to focus on than herself. Saving St. Cyril’s troubled teens program.
Brother Benedict reached her and smiled.
“Shall we get back to the shop?” Lacey said. “And get to work? I have a bunch of interesting papers to read through.”
Brother Benedict bowed his agreement.
Lacey turned to Superintendent Turner to say farewell. But before she spoke, it occurred to her this may very well be the last time she ever saw him. If she was right about Marcus Moyles, and the case was closed, Superintendent Turner would retire and their paths would never cross again. She felt a strange pang of nostalgia for the man with whom she’d shared a fraught and at times antagonist relationship.
“Good bye, Karl,” she said.
“Hope I don’t see you, kid,” he replied.
Lacey turned away and headed to the car, confident that the investigation was in good hands. She had more important things to focus on, like the scepter. She felt more eager than ever to get on with the work so St. Cyril’s could continue all their good work in turn.
With Brother Benedict strapped in the passenger seat beside her, Lacey gunned her car to life and backed out of the space. She actually felt optimistic for what felt like the first time in days.
But as she drove back to the high street, her optimism popped like a balloon. Because as she passed by her store and glanced through the window, she spotted two people inside. Two people who should never be seen together.
It was her mom and dad.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Quick, quick, quick!” Lacey cried to Brother Benedict as she hurriedly parked in the side alley and threw her car door open.
Brother Benedict looked flustered as he gathered up his robes and fumbled with the handle on the passenger side.
“I’m sorry to rush you,” Lacey said, jumping out of the car. “But if we don’t get to my store now some seriously unholy stuff will go down!”
The monk frowned with confusion. He slid out the passenger side, Chester following after him, and slammed the door shut. Lacey closed hers too and locked up, then raced as fast as her legs could take her to her store.
Her heart was pounding as she shoved open the door and burst inside. It took a split second to confirm that she’d entered into a scene of utter chaos.
“This is all your fault!” Shirley was screaming.
“My fault?” Frank screamed back. “How is it my fault?”
“You’ve manipulated her, haven’t you? Told her to change all the plans I made! You’ve swanned back into her life after all these years and filled her head with nonsense ideas!”
Lacey’s heart seized with panic, even while she frowned with complete confusion at whatever it was they were talking about. She felt like a seven-year-old all over again, her eyes darting back and forth between her parents just as they had done back in NYC before her father finally stormed out of the house for the very last time. And just like when she was a child, she was at a complete loss as to what her parents were screaming about.
Just then, she spotted Gina standing by the counter. The older woman was standing mouth agape, staring at Shirley and Frank with a panicked and worried expression. Deducing if anyone knew what was going on here, it would be her, Lacey hurried to her friend. Her monk and dog followed behind her.
“Gina! What’s going on?”
Gina flinched with surprise and turned to face her. “Oh, Lacey! You’re here.”
Lacey knew Gina too well; she was feeling guilty about something, it was written all over her face.
Lacey put her hands on her hips. “Yes. I’m here. And I’m wondering what on earth is going on.” She threw her arm toward her warring parents.
Gina wrung her hands nervously. “I might have… accidentally… let slip to Shirley that there was a possibility of a venue change tomorrow…”
Lacey winced. Shirley had been the one who’d found the forest location in the first place. She must’ve jumped to conclusions when she heard there was a possible last-minute change, and assumed Frank had been the one to instigate it. Which of course was not the truth at all, but when had her mother let a pesky little thing like the truth hold her back from lashing out?
“She thinks my dad manipulated me into changing it?” Lacey stated.
“Sounds that way,” Gina replied with a nervous nod.
Lacey ground her teeth. It was bad enough that she may have to change venues in the first place. But having her parents use it as an excuse to fight like cats and dogs was even worse.
She steeled herself and stepped forward to intervene.
“Stop!” she shouted as she marched across the floorboards toward them. “There’s been a huge misunderstanding!”
But her parents didn’t even notice her.
“You want the wedding on the cliffs, don’t you?” Shirley screamed. “Those damn cliffs you love so much!”
“The location of the ceremony isn’t important to me!” Frank screamed back.
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, mister!” Shirley screamed. Her pointer finger was out again, and she was waggling it right in Frank’s face. “You left your entire family for those stupid cliffs once! If you can do THAT then you can do THIS too!”
Lacey stood there, her eyes going back and forth between her parents as she watched their tennis match of a fight unfold. She felt helpless. The only saving grace was that Naomi and Frankie weren’t here to witness it—they must’ve headed out to get some breakfast.
As Lacey stood there trying to work out what to do or say to break the two apart, the door suddenly opened with a tinkle. She looked over to see Taryn came trotting in.
Not now, Lacey thought desperately. This was the last thing she needed.
“Oh, Lacey!” Taryn gushed, apparently oblivious to her incredibly bad timing.
At the sight of his own personal Cruella De Vil, Chester started to growl. Boudica caught on and growled too. The sound of the growling dogs only added to the cacophony of noise swirling around Lacey. She clenched her teeth.
Taryn gave the dogs a dirty look as she sidestepped them and gras
ped Lacey’s arm in her hand. “I heard about the murder,” she said, dramatically, her bony fingers digging in to Lacey’s flesh. “How awful!”
Lacey tried to shake her off. “Yes,” she said between her tightly clenched teeth. “It’s terrible.”
“And right before your wedding,” Taryn continued.
She was using her syrupy voice, the one she used when she was actually giving out back-handed compliments. It didn’t take a genius to work out that she was actually reveling in the thought of the murder overshadowing her wedding. She had no concern for the victim whatsoever. All she cared about was the fact that Lacey wouldn’t be getting her perfect wedding anymore.
“You must be devastated,” Taryn continued, her fingers like talons on Lacey’s arm. “Are you okay?”
With the backdrop of her parents’ screaming match and the growling dogs, Lacey swirled to face Taryn and wrenched her arm free.
“Do I look okay?!” she yelled.
All at once, silence fell. Shirley and Frank paused and looked at Lacey with shock. Gina’s eyes widened. Brother Benedict blinked with surprise. Even Boudica and Chester stared at her.
But Lacey didn’t care. She’d snapped. She’d been holding too much in over the last few days and now it was all coming out.
Taryn took a step backward, looking stunned, almost as if Lacey had slapped her.
“Well?” Lacey demanded. “Do I? Since you’re suddenly so concerned about my well-being, after months and months of being nothing but cruel to me! Do you really want to know how I am, or do you just think that by being nice to me now you can get you an invite to my wedding?”
Taryn’s face fell. She looked humiliated that her attempts to win Lacey over had been so transparent.
“What are you talking about?” she replied, feigning disinterest. “Why would I want to go to your wedding?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Lacey cried. “You obviously hate me. I can only assume you want to come to ruin it!”
Taryn stuck out her bottom lip into a pout. “Narcissistic much?” she sneered. “I have much more important things to think about than your poxy wedding.” And with that, she turned on her spindly heel and marched back out the way she’d come.
Lacey took a deep, ragged breath, needing a moment to calm her frayed nerves. When she glanced up, she saw all eyes were on her. She must look like a crazy person to them. From their perspective, she’d just blown up at a perfectly nice person asking a perfectly reasonable question.
“I really need you guys to leave,” Lacey said, in the calmest voice she could muster. She didn’t trust herself now. If she could blow up like that at Taryn, she could blow up at her parents. She didn’t want to say something she would later come to regret.
Frank stepped forward. “Lacey love, what’s—”
“—No!” Lacey barked, holding her hand up to stop him. Not because she didn’t want her father’s support right now, but because she knew it would only stoke her mother’s flames once again. “Just go.”
Frank halted. Then he stepped back again. Shirley looked smug that Lacey had rejected him.
Just then, the door opened again, and this time Tom entered.
“Guys! What is going on in here?” he demanded. He glanced from one tense face to the next. “I can hear the shouting from the other side of the street!”
No one said a word. The awkwardness was overwhelming.
“Nothing,” Lacey stammered. “Everyone was just leaving. Mom. Dad. Please, just go.”
Shirley looked at Tom. “Frank has changed the wedding venue,” she said, haughtily.
“And Shirley won’t believe that I had nothing to do with it!” Frank countered. “Why don’t you tell her? Maybe she’ll listen to you.”
Lacey’s shoulders sank as Tom blanched with astonishment. His head darted toward Lacey. There was a deep furrow of confusion on his brow.
“What’s happened to the wedding?” he asked in a pained voice.
Lacey’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to do it, but now she had no choice. “We might not be able to have the ceremony in the forest anymore,” she said, sadly.
“Why?” Tom asked. He sounded aghast. Lacey felt terrible for all the trouble she’d caused. “Because Superintendent Turner has forbidden me from leaving town during the investigation,” she admitted.
Tom blinked. His expression was unreadable. “You’re not a suspect.”
She shook her head. “No. But Karl’s retiring and he doesn’t want me messing up his last case.”
Tom looked shell-shocked. He sank down into the red velvet love seat. “Oh,” was all he said.
Lacey chewed her lip fretfully. Oh wasn’t a lot to go on. What was he really thinking?
“Wait,” Shirley said in the silence. “That’s why the venue changed?”
“Yes,” Lacey said. “It has nothing to do with Dad, and everything to do with my long history of meddling in cases when I shouldn’t.”
Everyone looked at her. She couldn’t tell if they were disappointed in her, but she certainly felt like they were. At the very least, she was disappointed in herself.
Tom stood again and paced to Lacey. He took her gently by the shoulders. “Look, Lacey. It’s okay. I don’t mind where I marry you, just as long as I do. Can the reception still go ahead?”
She nodded. “The Drawing Room is safe territory. No change there.”
“So then it’s just a matter of organizing a location switch for the ceremony, right?”
Lacey nodded. Tom seemed to have gone into pragmatic mode, she noted with relief. If anyone could talk her off the ledge, it was him.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said, smiling at her gently, encouragingly. “There’s no disaster here. Just a last-minute change in plans. And when it comes to us, that’s always to be expected, right?”
Lacey let out a small chuckle. As sad as she was, Tom’s words had greatly comforted her. He was right. They’d weathered worse storms.
“Where shall we change it to?” Lacey asked.
“Where do you want?” Tom replied, taking both her hands in his.
Lacey thought about all the beautiful places in Wilfordshire, from the hillsides to the beautiful old pub. But there was one place more perfect than any other.
“The beach,” she said. “By the cliffs.”
Shirley threw her hands up in despair and muttered something about, “On a beach! In winter!” but Lacey wasn’t focusing on her. She was too busy gazing into Tom’s green eyes.
“The beach it is,” he said, tenderly.
Lacey leaned onto her tiptoes and kissed him, filled with love, appreciation, and gratitude. All that stress and worry, she should’ve known to offload it all to Tom, that he’d be able to take it in his stride and make everything okay. He would’ve married her in The Cod Father, their local chippy, if that was what she wanted.
Tom looked over at Gina. “Can you call the officiary and sort out the change in location?” he said. Then he looked at Frank. “Frank, I need you to make sure all the guests are aware of the change. The contact numbers are on the list, so it’s just a case of calling everyone.” He looked at Shirley. “You arranged the harpist, right? See if she can still play on the beach. If not, we can have her play at the Drawing Room before the bluegrass band. Okay?”
All three of them nodded quickly, taking their orders.
Then Tom turned to Lacey. “Now. You’re coming with me.”
“What? Where are we going? I have work to do.”
He took her hand. “Not for the next hour you don’t. I’m taking you to lunch.”
He whisked her toward the exit. Lacey looked helplessly back at Brother Benedict. She was supposed to be doing work on the scepter. The monk smiled gently and held up a hand as if in reassurance, but Lacey wasn’t convinced.
“Tom, I don’t have time for lunch,” she said. “I have work to do.”
But as they reached the door, Tom turned to look at her. “You have no
choice,” he said seriously. “We have something very important to discuss.”
Lacey’s stomach tightened. She did not like the sound of that. Her mind turned over all the possibilities of what exactly he needed to discuss. Had he somehow found out about her pregnancy scare? Was he upset with her?
She chewed her lip. There was only one way to find out. She relented, letting Tom whisk her out of the store by the hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lacey sank wearily into the chair across the bistro table opposite Tom and rubbed the tension from between her eyebrows. She was starting to get a headache—partly from her parents shouting, and partly from the anxiety over what exactly the important thing was that Tom needed to discuss.
Chester slunk under the table, settling down on her feet like a warm, weighted blanket. She appreciated the comfort.
The café Tom had taken her to was a cute Parisian-style coffee shop, a little off the beaten track, with low lighting and marble-topped tables. The delicate smells of sweet French desserts permeated the air, and the tinkle of crockery provided a gentle background white noise.
Tom leaned across the table and took Lacey’s hands in his. “Tell me what’s going on with you,” he said.
Lacey took a deep breath. Tom’s green eyes were gentle and reassuring. So he didn’t know? He wasn’t here to grill her? He just wanted to talk?
She felt her defenses start to weaken. “I don’t know where to begin,” she admitted.
“Start with the ceremony,” he said, softly. “Why didn’t you tell me Superintendent Turner had essentially forbidden you from going to your own wedding?”
He was speaking without anger, without malice, and his overwhelming reassurance made Lacey feel suddenly ridiculous for having kept the whole wedding troubles from him in the first place.
“I don’t know. Because of the omen? Because I thought you’d disapprove? Because I thought if I solved the case before tomorrow, you’d never even need to find out?”
