by Fiona Grace
She wondered if she’d been a bit hasty about Taryn. Her conversation with Brooke had been a tad frenzied, coming right off the back of the disaster with Daisy. But Brooke had thrown up some really interesting points with regards to Taryn’s motives, and Lacey had filled in the blanks regarding motive fairly swiftly. Yes, it had been rushed, but at the same time, Lacey wasn’t prepared to leave any stone unturned, especially if it meant another night in jail for an innocent man.
The rain was falling when she reached the boutique. The glaring lights coming through its windows seeming suddenly very unpleasant, illuminating off the quickly forming puddles.
“The sign was right,” Lacey said to Chester. “May as well assume it’s going to rain!”
She pushed open the door and went inside.
At the sound of her entrance, Taryn looked up from the counter. The second she registered who was entering her store, she started shaking her head.
“Nope! No, no, no. Get that dirty dog out of my store!”
She started walking toward Lacey, making shooing gestures.
But it was too late. Chester shook himself, and droplets of rainwater sprayed off his fur, glistening under the lights as they covered everything within a meter radius in a fine mist.
“Ah!” Taryn screeched. “That smell permeates! It gets into the clothes!” She grabbed the closest silky number. “Yes. I can smell it. This will have to be dry cleaned. I'll bill you. And I’ll have to put a million tons of potpourri in the glass bowls now. I’ll bill you for that as well.”
Lacey listened to Taryn’s monologue, squinting at the woman. She just didn’t strike her as a killer. Anyone who got that flapped by a wet dog surely couldn’t be capable of killing another human? The grossness alone would make her faint, wouldn’t it?
Lacey inched back to the door, gesturing Chester outside, but keeping it open so he was still within range. She wasn’t quite ready to let him stray too far, and having a glass door barrier between them was too much.
“Now what are you doing?” Taryn exclaimed. “You’re letting all the heat out! Either get in or get out. No, actually, I’ll make it easy. Just get out!”
“I have one question,” Lacey said from her odd position, half in and half out the store. “Did you sell many of those pink bags last season?”
Taryn looked exasperated. “Why are you asking me that?”
Lacey hesitated. When she’d been speaking to Brooke earlier, it had seemed to make so much sense for Taryn to be involved in Buck’s murder. But now that she was here, actually face to face with the woman, something in her mind told her it just wasn’t possible.
“I found a piece of evidence,” she said, treading cautiously nonetheless. “It links Buck’s murder to your store.”
“My store?” Taryn squeaked. Her face paled. “Oh god, are the cops going to come for me like they did you? I’ll never live it down.” She started flapping her hands with panic.
“Taryn. Calm Down,” Lacey said. “Listen to me.”
Taryn stopped and dropped her arms. The possibility of impending arrest had turned her to putty in Lacey’s hands.
“Do you have a list of people you sold that model of bag to?” Lacey asked.
“A list?” Taryn exclaimed. “Of course I don’t have a list! Do you keep a list of everyone you sell to?”
“Alright, alright. Not a list. But do you happen to remember?”
“No, I don’t,” Taryn said all in one breath. “They didn’t sell that well at first, until I priced them down for the end of season sale. Then they flew off the shelves. Brenda bought one. Carol. Jane bought two—one for her and one for her sister-in-law...”
Brenda. Carol. Two people who had interactions with Buck.
“Melissa from the pie shop. Juliette the dog walker. Oh, and the florist, whose name I can’t remember. I mean even Bu—”
“Don’t worry,” Lacey said, interrupting her with the shake of her head. “The bag was popular. A ton of people bought it. It won’t narrow down my suspect list at all.”
“Your suspect list?” Taryn wailed. She was starting to panic again.
All of a sudden, Lacey had an a-ha moment.
“Taryn. Listen. I need you to do something for me.”
Once again, the boutique owner gave Lacey her full attention. “What now?” she said, sounding like a child on the verge of a meltdown.
“Don’t worry, it'll be easy for you. It’s something you do best. I need you to spread some gossip. Spread the word that I’ve worked out who the killer is. That I’ve found a big piece of evidence on the island, and am heading there now to fetch it. Say that once I've collected the piece of evidence, I’m going to expose the killer. Start at the Coach House. It’ll spread like wildfire. I mean, the last rumor you started from there did.”
Taryn pouted. “I already apologized for that.”
Apologized was quite a loose term for what Taryn had done.
“Sure you did.”
Lacey couldn’t quite believe she was conspiring with her nemesis. But her instincts were telling her that Taryn wasn’t the perp. This prim fashionista would never get her hands dirty. Besides, her hair was dark brown like Lacey’s, and Xavier was sure the woman in the rowboat was blond. But once the news had spread around town, Lacey was certain that the real killer would come to the island in an attempt to find the piece of evidence before her, exposing themselves in the process.
Lacey checked the clock. The sandbar wouldn’t be out for much longer. She’d have to hurry.
“I’d better go. Taryn, work your magic.”
She raced out the boutique and along the high street. Now, the rain was starting to lash down. Heading to an abandoned island to catch a killer in wet weather wasn’t really top of things Lacey wanted to do.
She saw the camping store ahead and rushed up to the clerk.
“I need some kind of tent. That’s rainproof. And easy to assemble. I’m from New York.”
The clerk laughed. “You’ll want a pop-up then. We have the X45 model, or the X45a model which has an extra five inches of—”
“Either. I don’t mind. Whichever gets you more commission.”
The clerk looked thrilled. “In that case, maybe you’d be interested in the Orion model?”
Lacey shook her head. “Can we hurry up? I’m in a rush. I’ve got to beat the tide to get to the island.”
The clerk gave her an uncertain expression. “I don’t know if today’s the best day to go camping. You’ve heard about the stor—”
But once again, Lacey cut him off. “Please. Can we hurry?”
He held his hands up. “Alright. Alright. I’ll drop the sales pitch.” He collected a pop-up tent from inside, and came back outside to meet her. “So what is it you’re so desperate to get to the island for?”
“I found some evidence,” Lacey said. “In the murder case of Buckland Stringer. I’m going over there to collect it from the island. It’ll totally nail the murderer.”
At long last, the clerk fell silent. Lacey had managed to wipe the chatter right off his face.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The drizzle had turned to fat, splotchy rain drops by the time Lacey and Chester reached the beach.
There was the smallest sliver of sandbar left.
Chester went right for it. Lacey, the slower of the two, brought up the rear. They’d just made it to the other side when the tide rose and cut them off.
“That was close,” she said.
She looked down at the tent tucked under her arm. Pop-up. She unzipped it from its casing and watched as it popped, literally, into tent position. She hadn’t thought about its color when she’d bought it, and was relieved to find it was khaki green. It would blend in nicely with the foliage.
She moved the tent to the trees, just as the rain turned to a deluge.
“Chester, quick, get inside,” she told the dog.
She leapt in and he huddled in beside her.
Lacey peered out the flap,
gazing at the ocean. There was no sign of the sandbar anymore, which meant there was no way off the island for her now, which was a slightly worrying thought. But at least the sound of the rain on the tent was relaxing.
Maybe I am cut out for this camping thing after all, Lacey thought.
Just then, she heard something. Chester heard it too; his ears pricked up. It was the sound of rowing.
Quietly, carefully, Lacey peered out.
The rain had created a gray haze over everything, making it difficult to see. Lacey squinted, and could just make out a small wooden rowboat coming toward her. But all she could see of the figure inside was their black silhouette.
Lacey shuddered, thinking about how she might have put herself in harm’s way. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the rowing boat as it inched closer and closer to land.
Then it tapped against the jetty.
Under the moonlight, Lacey watched the figure clamber out.
A woman, just like Xavier had witnessed. A blond woman.
Daisy? Lacey thought.
But as the figure came closer, she realized it wasn’t Daisy at all. It was Brooke.
Confused, Lacey unzipped the flap of the tent and hurried out into the rain.
“Brooke?” she called over the sound of raindrops on leaves. ”What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Brooke yelled back. “What are you doing? There’s a storm coming! A bad one! I saw you running across the sandbar with Chester and jumped in my boat right away. You shouldn't be out here.”
Lacey shook her head. “I need to be here. I need to do something.”
Brooke raised an eyebrow, giving Lacey a look like she was mad, which, in fairness, Lacey sort of was right now.
“What?” Brooke cried over the rain. “What could you possibly need to do?”
If her friend thought she was mad merely for being on the island in a storm, what would she think if she found out Lacey was here to catch the local murderer? She decided to keep quiet.
“It’s a wilderness thing,” Lacey said, evasively. “Little bit spiritual. Little bit rugged survival skills.”
The rain began to lash down.
“Let’s get inside the tent,” Lacey cried.
The two friends bundled inside. Lacey had only been in the rain for a matter of minutes, but she was already soaked to the bone. She zipped up the tent to keep out the driving rain.
“I can’t believe you rowed all the way over here to fetch me,” Lacey said to Brooke. “You’re soaked. And I don’t have a towel or anything.”
“You seem pretty underprepared for the ‘wilderness,’” Brooke joked, putting the last word in air quotes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to row us both back to shore?.”
Lacey shook her head again. “No. I need to stay. But you go. Don’t feel like you have to stay for my sake. You know, I never guessed you’d be a rower.”
“I’m a woman of many talents,” Brooke replied. “Wrestler. Rower.”
“What can’t you do?” Lacey joked, using humor in an attempt to manage the stress of the situation. She leaned over and patted Chester’s head. “When did you buy your boat, then? Considering you've only lived in Wilfordshire for a few weeks!”
“It was literally the day I moved here,” Brooke explained. “I used to live by a lake. I’d fish there, and swim there. And whenever my ex smacked me around, I’d take the boat out right to the middle of the lake where it was quiet and calm. To get away from it all.”
Her voice had become detached. The bubbly Aussie Lacey had gotten to know seemed suddenly distant. She recognized it as the same air of melancholy that had overcome her on the day of the auction, after her spat with Buck.
“I’m not surprised you felt the need to buy one when you moved here,” Lacey said, gently.
Brooke nodded in affirmation. “It’s like a security blanket. Whenever I feel threatened, I’ll go for a row.”
Lacey felt bad for the woman. “I’m really sorry you went through so much. I guess you came here for a quiet life, then got all this.”
“All this?” Brooke asked.
“Buck and Daisy causing havoc. Buck’s murder. It’s been a pretty eventful time since you arrived.”
Brooke seemed utterly dejected. She hitched her knees up to her chest and sighed wearily.
As she did, she exposed a backpack she’d brought with her, wedged into the corner of the tent. It looked strangely empty, as if there was next to nothing inside.
“What’s in there?” Lacey asked, curiously.
Brooke looked over shoulder at the bag. She turned back and shrugged. “Nothing in particular. It’s just my bag.” Her tone had become slightly defensive.
Chester seemed to notice as well. His ears twitched, as if he was becoming more alert.
“So?” Brooke said. “I heard this weird rumor in the pub. That you’d found some evidence out here? Is it something other than the bag strap?”
For some reason, her question made Lacey feel uneasy. And with her uneasiness came a horrible sudden thought… was there a blank space on the Venn diagram for Brooke?
She quickly though it through. For starters, Brooke was blond. Though she and Daisy had different hairstyles, in the darkness, it was the bright color of their hair that was most noticeable. Indeed, she and thought Brooke was Daisy when she’d first seen her climb out the boat. So she fit the witness statement. But what about motive?
Because her tea shop on the promenade and not the high street, Lacey had completely overlooked her when she’d been thinking of all the business Buck financially screwed over. Brooke’s tearoom wasn’t exactly high end, but she was a new business just establishing, and Lacey herself knew how every penny counted. She’d even admitted that Buck’s payment had been suspended.
But maybe it wasn’t money at all? Brooke and Buck had had an altercation at the auction. Brooke had seemed really wound up as she’d squared up to Buck. She’d even explained after that it reminded her of her violent ex. Had the experience made her feel threatened enough that she went for a row and ended up on the island, the very same place Buck ended up venturing to later? She’d be strong enough to kill him, with her wrestler’s biceps, and blond enough to be mistaken for Daisy by Xavier when he saw her rowing back to shore.
Then there was the very simple fact that she was here. That Lacey’s plan was to lure a killer to the island with the rumor of fake evidence, and Brooke had turned up.
Lacey didn’t want to believe it, but her heartbeat was starting to increase. Brooke fit on the Venn diagram more neatly than anyone else had so far.
The bag, she reminded herself. Brooke didn’t have a pink bag! Not only was pink not her style, but her own bag was right there in the corner of the tent, a dark black rucksack.
But even as she thought it, she felt a nagging doubt in the back of her mind
“Well?” Brooke asked, more insistently. “What evidence did you find?”
Lacey made a snap decision not to tell Brooke it was a lure. If Brooke was the killer, and thought Lacey knew something, she’d only reveal it if she thought she’d been trapped. If she learned that there was no evidence and that it was a lure, then the pressure would reduce and she wouldn’t confess.
“It was Chester who found it,” Lacey began. “He loves exploring the island. And digging. And he especially loves the ruins. Have you had a chance to see them yet?”
She was attempting to divert the conversation, to gather more information.
“The medieval castle?” Brooke said, the tenseness in her voice audible under what sounded like forced calmness. “Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“You have? So you’ve visited before? When did you get the chance, you’ve only been here a few days?” Lacey chuckled, to keep up the pretense they were having a friendly conversation.
“The day of the auction,” Brooke said, but her sentence cut off abruptly and her head darted up. She locked eyes with Lacey, and the look in them told her that she knew
she’d said too much.
“Brooke,” Lacey said, her heart feeling heavy. “Did you kill Buck?”
“No!” Brooke exclaimed. “I… It was…It wasn’t like that!”
Tears shone in her eyes suddenly.
“What was it like?” Lacey asked, as softly as possible. She was treading very dangerous ground right now. She was on an abandoned island with no way off. “Tell me what happened. I’m your friend, Brooke, I’ll understand.”
“You saw what he was like!” Brooke cried. “He was a brute. A bully. I didn’t… I didn’t plan it!”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Lacey said. Her voice had taken on the air of a school counselor, or a midwife dealing with a woman in the most painful throes of labor. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?”
“You saw him with the steak, didn’t you? How furious he was about the dog. The hygiene. He said he’d get the health inspectors on me. He was blackmailing me. When I saw him at the auction arguing with you, I just flipped, you know? He reminded me so much of my ex. Afterwards, I came for a row, to calm down, and ended up here. I thought I was alone, that it was an island, I had no idea about the sandbar. So when he just suddenly appeared, I lost it. At first I thought he was a vision or something. A PTSD flashback. He was shouting at me, carrying on the fight from your store. There was no one else around, just the two of us. I started panicking. I thought he was going to hurt me. He kept going on and on about how he had money, and how I’d undermined him. He kept jabbing this wad of cash in my face. He pulled the bag out of its plastic carrier, and said, ‘I just bought my wife this expensive handbag, I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I didn’t have money, would I?’ It sort of hit me against my face and that’s when I snapped. It was all instinct.” She looked at Lacey. “I just grabbed the bag and tugged. He went flying forward, and hit the sand really hard. Then I got on his back and pushed him down and held him there until the fight was over. That’s all I was doing. I was wrestling him. Except, when I got up, he was dead.”
Lacey listened quietly, her heart slamming into her rib cage. No wonder Brooke had been so freaked out during their telephone conversation. Lacey had more or less described the altercation exactly, only assuming it was between Buck and Daisy, not Buck and Brooke. And no wonder she’d called the police during Lacey and Xavier’s meeting. She’d in all likelihood known that Lacey would get arrested too, but decided it was collateral damage. She’d probably let go off Chester on purpose, hoping he’d run off and distract Lacey from working it out. All along, Brooke had been trying to steer Lacey away from the truth. All those moments Lacey thought they’d been bonding and becoming friends had just been about Brooke manipulating her.
