“You’re not Vina.” Motts stared at Detective Inspector Teo Herceg. “Much taller, definitely grumpier.”
“I’m not grumpy. Stoic is a better word.”
“Right.”
“I’ve been sent with supper from Leena Griffin. She insisted.” Teo lifted a paper sack. “She reminded me of my own mother. A commanding presence in a petite body.”
“Pretty sure it’s a mum thing.” Motts grabbed the bag and led the inspector into her cottage. “Have you eaten?”
“I could eat.” Teo seemed to be inspecting her while she moved around the kitchen getting plates.
“Inspector inspects intensely,” Motts muttered. She shifted uncomfortably under his concerned gaze. “What is it?”
“You ran away from a funeral. Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.” She eased open the multiple containers of food. “Oh, paruppu sadam with potato curry, uttapam, and sambhar.”
“Smells delicious.”
Motts pointed to the paruppu sadam. “That’s spiced rice which goes with the curry. The uttapam is the fried pizza-like dish made of rice and lentils that you dip into the red lentil sambhar.”
It seemed Amma Griffin believed her daughter owed an apology, and food obviously made for the best mea culpa. Motts would have to pay the café a visit in the morning.
Sorting out the Tamil-themed feast onto two plates, Motts led the way into the living room. They got comfortable on the sofa. She put on a jazz playlist on Spotify, one she knew Teo would appreciate.
“I see this wasn’t your first gift of food.” Teo nodded toward the basket from earlier in the day. “Wondered if he actually delivered it.”
“Why did he do this?” Motts nudged Teo with her foot. He reached down to cover it with his hand. “And why did you help him?”
“I get the idea DI Byrne has become emotionally impacted by a series of cold cases connected to Jenny’s. As she was your closest friend, I imagine he’s taken an interest in you.” Teo squeezed her foot gently. “And I helped you. Not him.”
“You two seemed at odds before.” Motts still didn’t quite understand their strange behaviour at the café earlier in the week. She waved her hand to stop him when Teo went to speak. “Doesn’t matter. I think he wants to be friends.”
Teo rubbed his thumb across the top of her foot, then lifted his hand away. “I’m sure he does. What were you doing at the funeral anyway? I wasn’t aware you knew the O’Connells.”
“I don’t.” Motts shredded a piece of the uttapam in her fingers. She plucked a sliver of fried onion from the remnants. “Do you know how she died?”
“Motts.” He stared sternly down at her. “Haven’t you been close enough to the investigation?”
“Only curious.” Motts tossed the onion into her mouth. “We haven’t talked in a while.”
“The chief inspector’s had a push for me to wrap up cases of late.”
“Okay.” Motts grabbed her mug. “Can you rush solving a case?”
“No.”
Chapter Six
Meow.
“What have I said about interrupting work?” Motts lifted Cactus carefully out from her pile of peonies. She’d spent the morning folding flowers for a bride-to-be. Marnie needed the bouquet within the next few days. “You aren’t allowed to play with the origami.”
Meow.
“Fine. I’ll make you a paper mouse.” Motts snagged a spare scrap to fold a creature for him. “You are spoiled.”
Meow.
“Don’t get testy with me. I’ve already fed you extra tuna, plus you’re wearing the soft jumper Teo knitted for you.” She still found it adorably amusing how the large and muscular detective inspector who brooded with the best of them spent his free time knitting with a group of grandmothers. “Don’t frown at me.”
The jumper had been for the winter, but even on summer days Cactus sometimes had to wear a jumper. Despite being a “hairless” cat, he had what amounted to peach fuzz for fur. Motts had to keep him warm to keep him from falling ill.
Meow.
“Patience is a virtue.” Motts finished with the last fold. She flicked the mouse along the table, chuckling when Cactus leapt after it. “Funny feline frolics fiercely.”
Turning her attention to the flowers, Motts finished the last six. She gathered the peonies and gently added prepared stems, which she’d made out of wire wrapped with paper. The arranging of an origami bouquet was often the most challenging part. She had to ensure nothing got crushed or bent.
Paper flower bouquets might last longer than real ones, but they tended to be more prone to breaking. Motts finished with her creation and placed it carefully into a hatbox. She’d found them to be the perfect size, and they fit on the back of her Vespa.
Meow.
“Yes, you are the slayer of the paper monster.” Motts surveyed the remnants of the origami mouse. “Were you a dog in a past life?”
Meow.
“I apologise for the insult.” Motts lifted Cactus up into her arms, snuggling him against her chest. “I’m heading into the village. Can you protect the cottage and Moss for me?”
Setting him down, Motts made sure the hatbox lid was securely fastened. She didn’t want to waste her hours of work on one reckless turn. Marnie would be pleased to have the bouquet a day early.
She glanced at the time on her phone. It was too early for lunch. Maybe I can ride along the coast.
No, no. Stop it.
I am not going to involve myself in this investigation.
Motts debated with herself all the way down to the village. She was still grumbling to herself when she plopped the hatbox down on the counter in front of Marnie. “Here.”
“Wake up on the wrong side of the morning, did we?” Marnie teased.
Right.
Polite small talk.
“Sorry.” Motts sometimes forgot about the intricacies of neurotypical communication. “I was rude.”
“Only a little.” Marnie waved off her apology with a kind smile. “What’s in the box?”
“The peony bouquet.”
“Excellent.” Marnie peeked inside, then set the box aside. She leaned forward with her elbows on the counter. “You’ll never guess what I’ve learned.”
“Marnie.” Motts was amused at how everyone around her, aside from the policemen in her life, seemed determined to turn her into an amateur detective. “What have you learned?”
“Apparently, poor Mrs O’Connell died three years ago. Stabbed with something, they don’t know what. And my Perry believes she was kept in a freezer, which explains the state of her body.” Marnie kept her voice low and her eyes on the front of the shop. “A freezer. Can you imagine?”
“I’m trying not to.” Motts tried to resist the curiosity building up in her. Marnie’s gossip had only added fuel to the flames of the mystery. “Why would someone throw the body into the sea now?”
“Maybe someone got too close to discovering her?” She shrugged. “My Perry says the ‘fancy detectives’ have taken over the investigation.”
“Perry knows Teo. They watch football together.”
“He enjoys taking the mickey.” Marnie shifted the hatbox further down the counter. She glanced at Motts’s confused face. “Men, people really, often enjoy poking at each other even when they don’t mean it.”
“Right.” Motts understood sarcasm more than other types of humour. Teasing and pranks, though, never made much sense to her. “I should get going. Any more orders for me?”
“I’ll email you. I’ve a few possible ones but nothing concrete.” Marnie considered her for a moment. “I won’t hug you this morning. You seem to be enjoying your little bubble too much.”
With a friendly wave, Motts headed out of the shop. She stopped once outside to inhale deeply. The summer sun was obscured by a fluffy cloud, allowing her to enjoy the blue skies and relatively calm breeze coming off the sea through the village.
Motts stood by her Vespa parked in
front of the bridal shop. How do I go about learning about tides and currents around Polperro? The killer clearly hasn’t dragged the body along the coastal path. So, where did they dump the poor departed grandmother?
Stop it.
I’m not investigating. I’m not. Well, maybe a few questions.
Just a few maritime queries. A little knowledge never hurt anyone. I live by the sea; perfectly normal to want to know about the sea.
“Out of my way, you stupid bint.”
Motts turned all the way around, looking at the distance between herself and the grumpy seventy-something-year-old man glaring at her. “I’m not in your way.”
“Cheeky youths.” Mr Orchard, the elder, still held a grudge for her suspecting his grandson of murder. He’d once been her auntie’s gardener, but his fondness hadn’t transferred to Motts one iota. “Loitering around. Lurking like a proper criminal.”
“I’m almost forty.” She blinked at the crotchety pensioner. “Not loitering. Not cheeky. Also, not a youth.”
“Always poking your nose.”
“Always?” Motts bristled at the accusation.
“Not bothering my friend, are you?” Marnie stepped out of the shop. “Go on, Motts. Mr Orchard and I can chat about lace.”
Lace?
While Mr Orchard seemed as confused as Motts at the suggestion, she took her bid for freedom. Marnie could handle the grumpy gardener. Cheeky youth, indeed.
Now what? Who can I ask about sea currents and tides? It seemed like random knowledge Teo might collect, but he’d know why she was asking.
Rounding a corner, Motts spotted the Polperro post office. Doc. Carridoc and Elys Ferris had run the local branch for years. She knew the elderly couple had a keen interest in Cornish history but also in the fishing industry.
Anyone who knows about the fishing industry surely understands the local currents a little?
Can you google currents?
It wasn’t as though Motts needed an in-depth understanding. She wanted to figure out where the body would likely have been dumped. The killer might’ve left evidence behind.
Maybe I’m not as resistant to putting my nose in as I claimed.
“Hello, love. Package to mail?” Elyse waved cheerily when Motts stepped into the post office. “Don’t think we’ve got anything for you.”
“No packages.” Motts shook her head. “I wanted to learn about the currents and tides around Polperro.”
“Currents in the sea?” Doc popped up from behind the counter. “Not sure I can help. You might chat with young Callie who runs the kayak shop. She does guided trips from Fowey to Looe, going by our fair village. She’d know about the seas around the coast.”
Am I curious enough to chat with a complete stranger?
Bugger.
Chapter Seven
“You keep Moss and yourself safe. I’ll be home before tea.” Motts had spent most of the previous day practising her questions for Callie in the mirror before writing them down. She didn’t feel confident, but her curiosity was pushing her forward. “I can do this, right?”
With a meow of confidence from Cactus, Motts finished checking the windows and doors. She headed outside, making sure to set the alarm system behind her. It was a beautiful morning for a ride.
Poor Monty.
He deserves better than being restricted to the village.
“Are you ready, Monty?” Motts patted her bicycle before storing her water bottle and backpack into the saddlebags. “Fowey or bust.”
She knew from past cycling trips that the journey would take an hour or so depending on whether she chose to stop along the way. Given the stunningly gorgeous weather, she fully intended to take her time. Doc had assured her that Callie planned to be in the shop all day.
Deciding to cycle straight to Fowey, Motts had promised herself a few saffron buns and two jars of ginger honey from the Quay Bakery. She also intended to enjoy a stroll to Lantic Bay on the way home. It would do her good to stretch her legs along the beach.
The route from Polperro to Polruan where Motts would catch the ferry went along narrow lanes with high hedgerows on both sides. She had to dodge a few vehicles on the way, but mostly had the roads to herself. It felt good to be out in the sunshine.
Her journey ended far too quickly for her nerves. Motts found the ferry gave her more than enough time to panic. She wanted answers, though, and made herself walk the short distance from the Whitehouse Quay to Callie’s Kayaks.
“Can I help you?”
Motts didn’t know what she’d expected when she met Callie. It wasn’t the slim, muscular brunette with her short hair perfectly sculpted into a wavy sort of Mohawk. “Brilliant hairstyle.”
“Thanks.” Callie grinned. “You must be Motts.”
“Pineapple Mottley. Prefer Motts,” she admitted with an awkward smile. “Did Doc mention me?”
“Called last night. My wife’s out leading a guided kayak tour around the coast.” Callie waved her over to the counter. “He said you wanted to know about the currents. Any particular reason?”
“I….” Motts hesitated. She didn’t quite know how to explain without sounding as though she’d lost the plot. “I’m not a kayaker.”
“My mate used to hike around Polperro quite a bit until he ran into some angry woman who accused him of being a thief. He had a devil of a time convincing the police of his innocence. Bad enough he lived out of his backpack.” She grabbed a bottle of water and took a long drink. “Ashby. Posh, I know. His family bunged him out for not conforming. He stays with us when he’s not trekking around Cornwall and camping. We know waters from here to Looe like the backs of our hands.”
“Did you hear about the body found in the sea by the lighthouse?” Motts pressed her lips together to stop groaning audibly. Way to ease the question into the conversation. Subtle. “I’m surprised no one saw the perpetrator carrying a body along the coastal path.”
“Not so surprising. I’d wager they dumped the body further down.” Callie reached underneath the counter and placed a chart of Cornwall between them. “See these lines around the coast. You drop anything from the Polperro docks or anywhere west of the village, I’d bet my kayak it would drift around and wind up caught on those rocks during high tide.”
“Really?”
“Definitely. I don’t even need my charts to tell you. My wife did a study during university for her master’s. We had to experiment with floating on the currents. I almost wrecked my best kayak in the process.” Callie reached under the counter again and came up with a pamphlet. “I’ll circle a few spots on the map. If I’d done it, I’d have dumped the poor woman somewhere between there and the docks. These would be the easiest to get to.”
“Oh?”
“Actually.” She tapped her finger against the map. “They went out in a boat. Had to have. I’d bet you my whole shop whoever did this went out in a boat and expected the body to either sink or drift out to sea.”
“Makes more sense than them rolling her off a cliff.” Motts spotted a mobile of origami boats in the corner of the shop. “I made those for a wedding bouquet. I’d never made one out of kayaks.”
“So you’re Marnie’s supplier.” Callie’s ever-present smile grew even wider. “She wouldn’t tell us.”
Motts lifted a hand to wave. “That would be me. Marnie’s better at the talking bit.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Think you did fine.”
Motts scratched the back of her neck. She took the folded up map. “Thanks for this.”
“If you want to kayak around the area, give us a call. I’m up for a mystery.” Callie handed her a card with their numbers. “Tell Doc he owes me a pint at the pub next time I’m in Polperro.”
They chatted further about Callie’s thoughts on the killer going out in a boat, which surprised Motts, since conversing with strangers didn’t usually come naturally to her. She even offered to take her out in a kayak for a fresh perspective. Motts wasn’t quite ready to play C
aptain Blight yet.
Seasick sailors sail sparingly.
Sparingly?
I don’t even make sense in my own thoughts.
Leaving the shop, Motts headed further into Fowey. Quay Bakery on Fore Street was a short cycle away. She came away with a bag of saffron buns along with a jar of ginger honey.
The siren call of sugar forced her to stop at the Fowey Sweet Shop. Motts stocked up on Kernow chocolates. She’d eaten the mountain of lemon meringue and white chocolate bars Teo had given her a few months ago.
Buoyed by the scents of baked goods and sweets, Motts grabbed a drink before heading to the ferry. She had enough time on the trip across to Polruan to finish a bun and the hot tea. Her earbuds helped her avoid casual conversation; tourists, in general, enjoyed being chatty.
Motts did not.
On the journey home, Motts opted not to detour to Lantic Bay. She’d had enough of people for one day. Her visit to Fowey had taken longer than she’d intended.
It would be better to visit the few areas Callie suggested early in the morning—fewer people to deal with. Despite the tea and bun, Motts’s tummy grumbled at her by the time she cycled through the village. She wanted fish and chips, but Innis always glared at her when she went to the Salty Seaman.
I know I accused him of murdering his sister, but I did apologise.
“Need a hand?”
Motts started in surprise and glanced over to find Nish wiping his hands off on his apron beside her. “Where’d you come from?”
“Amma saw you out the window of the café. Wanting fish and chips?” He nodded his head toward the Salty Seaman. “Want me to get your lunch for you?”
“He shouts with his eyes,” Motts muttered defensively.
“Shouts with his mouth as well.” Nish pulled off his apron and draped it across the basket on her bicycle. “Double portion so Cactus can steal from your lunch?”
“I’ll pay you in honey.” Motts retrieved the extra jar she’d gotten. “Thought you might enjoy experimenting with baking.”
Pierced Peony Page 4
