by Alana Ling
‘All right, then, I’ll let you get ready. I’ve got to check on the catering company,’ I said and closed the door behind me.
I took a deep breath before taking the stairs down to the ground floor.
‘This is incredulous. I cannot fathom what you have just disclosed. I shall attempt to understand why, today.’ I heard a high-pitched whisper on the floor below. She had her back to the balcony but her words echoed off the walls. She was a brunette in a red suit dress. Honey and oats invaded my palate and made me crave for some breakfast.
As I descended the stairs, she turned around, looked at me and quickly disappeared into the cover of the corridor behind her. I tried to place her face, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her before.
I had more important things to attend to, so I found my way to the reception area where the waiting staff was frolicking around in their rented uniforms. A couple of them were wrestling on the marble floor of the ballroom and a girl was taking a video on her phone.
‘Excuse me,’ I said, approaching them.
The girl shushed me. ‘They’ve got a bet going on,’ she said, not even throwing a glance my way.
I stood a couple of feet from them and put my hands on my waist and waited for them to notice me. When that didn’t happen, I took one step closer, which made the guys wrestling roll onto my feet.
‘Do you lot want to be out of work before you can finish this quarrel or shall I wait until after?’
The girl taking the video looked up at me and cursed.
‘Get up, idiots. She’s the boss,’ she told them.
The guys stopped wrestling and stood up in a matter of seconds.
‘Where are the rest of your colleagues?’ I asked.
‘They’re out having a fag,’ she said.
I wrinkled my brow and she didn’t need any further directions. She went off to get them.
‘As for you two, are you aware that you’re wearing very expensive uniforms that need to be returned in pristine condition?’
‘It is a great honour to stand here, in front of you all, most of you dear friends and a lot of you who I’ve known since you were this small,’ Harold said and showed an inch with his thumb and index, making the room laugh. ‘It’s been a great run and I’ve enjoyed being your mayor immensely. But, as with everything, it is time to pass on the reins to the younger generation who will lead you to even greater things…’
‘Was that Arthur’s suggestion?’ Sam leaned in and whispered.
‘What do you think?’ I sighed.
‘That guy is older than the entire room put together. Talk about disillusioned,’ she said.
‘I would like to present you with the new face of the National Reformation Union, who will fight at the polls to lead this town to greatness. Remember: vote Arthur Foster and make Haven-on-Sea a haven again. Without further ado, may I present you the man of the hour, Arthur Foster,’ Harold said and gestured behind him while the room erupted in a gentle applause.
The space behind Harold remained empty. Harold looked to the audience and gave an uncomfortable smile. I approached the podium, which was in the middle of the reception area and erected in front of the split staircase, and looked behind Harold.
‘Arthur Foster,’ Harold repeated, but nothing.
The room started to murmur and it wasn’t long before everyone was looking around them in search of Arthur. I scanned the room and met eyes with Sam, who grimaced and shrugged.
‘I’ll go look for him,’ I told Harold.
‘So will I,’ Sam said.
Harold nodded. He climbed the stairs with us.
‘I’ll go check his office,’ he said and took off on the left wing.
‘Let us know if you find him,’ I said.
Sam and I reached the first floor on the right side. I knocked on an oak door and entered, but to no avail. It was just an empty office. Sam was already down the hall by the time I came out and she had opened quite a few of the office doors.
‘Arthur! Where are you, you little sexist pig?’ she was singing as she walked down.
‘Sam!’ I shouted at her.
She turned around and raised both her palms.
‘What? If he could hear me he would come right out and put me in my place.’ She smiled.
I shook my head and tried another door. We even looked in the cleaning cupboard and the staffroom, but they were all empty. Most of the people who worked in City Hall were downstairs, attending the gala.
When the whole floor had been checked we approached the staircase to take to the second floor. A conjoined gasp and a loud crack echoed across the hall.
Sam and I leaned over the balcony and looked at the ground floor where both sounds had come from, only to find a circle of people at the bottom of the staircase around a large dark spot.
The spot was wearing a black suit and it was outlined with blood.
I looked across the other side of the balcony and saw Harold standing at the edge looking down, the colour drained from his face.
I looked back down. The taste of chamomile and copper salted my tongue.
We had found Arthur.
Six
Nick, a young scrawny constable who had been promoted to Daniel’s assistant, brought me a glass of water and gave me an awkward smile. He tasted of onion and chilli soup, bringing some discomfort in my mouth.
I accepted the glass of water and took a big gulp.
‘Okay, Joanna, start from the beginning,’ Daniel said.
His peanut butter brownie usually soothed me and made me crave for the thing, but matched with Nick’s spicy tingle, it brought bile to my throat.
I drank some more water before I spoke.
‘Harold was giving his speech and was supposed to introduce Arthur, but when it was time for him to take to the stage, he wasn’t there. And that is unusual. Arthur lives…erm, lived for the spotlight. There was no way he would miss his chance to present himself as the new mayor.’
Daniel nodded. ‘But the election is not for another couple of months. How was he so sure he would be?’
I chuckled. ‘Have you not seen the polls? Arthur’s approval rating is off the roof. The minute he announced he would close off the town’s borders and re-introduce the points system, the upper class applauded him and announced him their favourite candidate. Half the suburbs donated to his campaign.’
‘I see. And when we thought our town was finally progressing with the rest of the country…but anyway. Back to the case in point. What happened next?’ he asked.
‘Of course, as the event organiser I had to make sure things ran smoothly and according to plan. So, Sam and I went to look for him. And Harold came with us,’ I said.
‘So you were with him when it happened,’ he said.
I shook my head. ‘No, he went to the west wing. We went to look for him on the other side where all the civil servants usually work from. We opened a few doors, called for him, but nothing. And then we heard commotion on the ground floor. When we looked down, we saw Arthur. In that very uncomfortable position that you know no one could survive from.’
‘And where was Harold when you realised what had happened?’ he asked.
‘He was looking down from the west wing balcony on the first floor as shocked as us.’
Daniel paused at my comment and looked at Nick. I avoided looking at his partner, focusing instead on his sweet flavours to control myself.
Did he suspect Harold just because he was standing at the balcony when it happened?
‘Did you see anyone else acting suspicious?’ he finally said, turning to me. ‘Anyone else coming down the stairs?’
I shook my head.
‘Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Arthur?’ he said, closing his notepad.
Nick clicked the heels of his shoes together as Daniel stood.
‘No. But I wouldn’t be surprised if you found a galore of them. He was a very arrogant man.’
‘You seem to have a knack working for
them, don’t you.’ He chuckled and I stared him down.
‘Thank you,’ he said and let me go.
Nick escorted me out of the private room on the ground floor, which doubled as a break room for the receptionists when not used as an investigation room, and led me to the main entrance where he advised the officers standing guard that I was free to go. Sam was waiting for me outside. A few other people had been allowed to go after giving their statement. The number of guests still waiting however was large.
Reporters and cameramen were outside trying to get a statement from all the attendees, but we had been advised to keep our mouths shut and not go to the press or risk affecting the investigation.
And that’s what we did.
I felt sorry for Daniel, Nick and the other officers. The pressure would be on them to solve this crime quickly.
And, of course, I felt sorry for Arthur. As despicable as he was, he didn’t deserve to die. We took my car and I drove Sam home, to the furthest east of the town where most properties still had a decent property value to allow the working class to rent a house, and then left for mine.
Alfie had decided to settle next to me in bed and keep me company while I was attempting to drink cold tea and watch something on the telly that wasn’t the least bit amusing and failing to do either, unable to get the incidents of the evening out of my head.
The taste of copper and chamomile lingered in my mouth every time the murder scene flashed before my eyes.
I now had two dead clients from two events in the last three months. I might have been fully booked until the end of the year but I was already short a few clients after Poppy’s demise.
Somehow people thought Poppy dying had something to do with my event management skills, despite me not being the actual killer.
Or at least, I assumed that’s what people thought, because I couldn’t rationalise why people would drop me the next day, pretending their event was cancelled when I was fully aware that was not the case.
I stared at my phone, which lay immobile next to me, and dreaded its activity tomorrow morning. Who would be the first to call? Would it be Riannon or Colton? It was hard to tell and I could only keep my fingers crossed it didn’t happen.
A ringing sound disturbed the quiet.
I jumped.
A look at my phone told me it was still inactive. Which meant the doorbell had rung. Were they coming to my door in the middle of the night now to tell me I’m fired?
With Alfie in tow I descended the stairs and stood in front of my door.
‘You can do this, Jo. Stay strong. Stay persistent and they can’t fault you for another person’s murder.’
It was the worst pep talk one could give, but it helped me open the door.
Kit was standing on the other side, hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched next to his ears, his blue eyes looking back at me and his dark hair ruffled. His soft and sweet flavour was a welcome change too. Alfie jumped at his knee and he went to pet him, but Kit stopped mid-play.
‘Did I wake you? Oh God, I must have. I’m so stupid,’ he said and slapped his forehead.
‘You didn’t. What are you doing here?’ I asked.
He looked at his pub across the street, and then back to me. ‘I-I heard what happened. I came to see how you’re holding up.’
I smiled. ‘You shouldn’t have. But thank you. I’m okay. I think.’
‘Are you sure?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Honestly? I’m not. I don’t think I am.’
‘Can I help? What can I do?’
I narrowed my eyes.
Why was he offering help? Did I look that terrible? I quickly checked the mirror next to the door and confirmed that, yes, I was in a state. My short hair was not so short anymore and definitely needed a trim. It looked worse than if I’d just woken up. And the black bags under my eyes were so unappealing I couldn’t stand looking at them.
‘I don’t need anything,’ I mumbled.
‘Are you sure? I can walk the dog if you want until you feel better again. Or I can come and look after you. Whatever you need.’ This time he bent down and picked Alfie up. Alfie proceeded to lick his mouth and I wanted to slap my insolent pet. Even I hadn’t had the pleasure yet. How dare he kiss Kit before me.
‘You’re too sweet,’ I said.
‘Have you eaten? Are you hungry?’ he asked, putting Alfie down and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
‘I haven’t—,’ I started saying and Kit let himself in before I could finish my sentence.
‘Let me cook you something. What do you fancy? I’m an expert on comfort food, so your wish is my command.’ He did a little bow.
I laughed.
‘I could use some comfort food.’
‘Do you want pizza? Pizza is quick and easy. And so, so good.’
I grimaced. ‘I don’t have any dough or sauce.’
‘Huh, do you have bread and ketchup?’ he asked.
‘Uhm,’ what was he planning on doing with those, ‘yes, I guess.’
‘And I assume you have cheese?’
I nodded. ‘Who doesn’t have cheese in their house?’
‘Perfect. Pizza coming right up.’ He rubbed his hands together and let himself through to my kitchen. Alfie followed him.
‘Traitor,’ I whispered to him.
When I entered the kitchen, Kit was already slicing my bread and had turned the oven on.
‘Are you seriously making pizza out of sliced bread?’ I asked.
He didn’t bother looking at me. He opened the fridge and took everything he needed out. Fresh tomatoes, ketchup, onions, cheese—all of the cheese—olives and an opened tin of sweetcorn.
‘I said I’m an expert at comfort food. Comfort food has two characteristics: it’s quick and it’s rubbish. But it tastes so good,’ he said.
I scoffed and put my hands up.
‘All right. You’re the boss.’ I plonked down on the sofa in my conservatory and looked up. The sky was dark and grey clouds were barely visible.
‘You know it.’ He smirked and instead of acknowledging his comment, I closed my eyes.
When I opened them next, he was standing only feet away from me. My nose filled with baked smells and the yeasty taste of bread salivated my mouth.
‘Wake up, sleepyhead,’ he said.
I stood and looked around me. Nothing had changed. Except for the fact that Kit and my entire kitchen tasted of ketchup and cheese.
He was holding out a plate for me.
I took it and saw two slices of bread covered in melted cheese and all the other ingredients buried underneath. He sat down next to me with a plate of his own.
‘How long was I out for?’ I asked.
He took a bite of his slice before responding. ‘About ten minutes,’ he said through mouthfuls.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’re exhausted. You needed it. Now dig in.’
I did. And the first bite turned into the last before I knew it. I licked my fingers and put the plate down next to me. Alfie came and attacked the breadcrumbs and leftovers.
‘I guess I was hungry after all.’
Kit laughed. ‘What makes you say that?’
He passed me a glass of water and I took it from him.
My phone came to life and I checked the caller ID. Harold’s name flashed across my screen. I checked the time and realised it was midnight. I picked it up without further hesitation. Maybe they’d already caught who’d done it.
‘Joanna, my dear, did I wake you?’ Harold’s voice broke from the other end of the line.
‘Uhm, no you haven’t, Harold. Is everything okay?’
‘No, Joanna. Everything is not okay. I need to talk to you. Samantha and you,’ he said.
I stood and Alfie, who was still indulging in his leftovers, looked up at me. ‘What? Now?’
‘Let’s meet Monday. Yes, that would be best. Monday, first thing. In my office.’
I nodded, fo
rgetting he couldn’t see me.
‘No, actually, let’s meet at my house. Tomorrow. This can’t wait and the less people hat see us together, the better,’ he added and hung up before I could ask what he meant.
Kit was staring at me and I shrugged.
Tomorrow it was then.
Seven
The next morning, a scorching hot Sunday, Sam and I were standing outside Harold’s door at nine sharp. I rang the doorbell. Their house was a decent size. Considering Harold had been a mayor for over two decades and was much beloved by everyone in this town, one would expect him to have gone overboard with his spending and have a mansion to live in.
He didn’t.
Instead he had a rather rectangular single-floor house, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking through to the hallway and living area. It was painted white with a grey tiled roof. The window panes and the door were a shade of saturated blue, making the house look almost Greek.
Althea answered the door and with her biggest smile plastered on her face she greeted us both with a kiss on the cheek. Her sugar and lemon pancake flavour sweetened my mouth and made me crave for breakfast.
I wiped my lip as she led us to Harold’s office, the door of which was open. We went in and Althea excused herself while she got us refreshments. We sat down. Harold was standing by the window looking outside.
It was an unusual look for him. He was usually a jovial man that acknowledged you with the warmest smile as soon as he was in your presence. Now, he barely noticed us and it was even noticeable in his flavour. His Earl Grey hardly registered on my palate.
When Althea returned to the room with some fresh sweetened lemonade, she stood on the other side of Harold’s desk and he turned around to meet us, at long last.
‘Thank you for coming, girls,’ he said.
‘What’s going on, Harold? You’re scaring us,’ I said.
He pursed his lips. ‘There’s been an unfortunate turn of events since last night.’
Althea lowered her head.
‘The Haven police believe I may be involved in the murder of Arthur,’ he said.
