by Emily Selby
'How's the reading going?' she asked casually, pointing at the plastic bag lying on the desk.
'Haven't started yet. I'm not a big fan of trying to decipher people’s handwriting. But I'm getting onto it right now.' He turned towards his desk and Katie took the hint.
She backed into her office. Despite Chris' reassurance, the uncertainty was bothering her.
Could Jane have drugged Keith's coffee?
Katie pushed the paperwork aside and made some room on her desk. She pulled her old notebook from her handbag. She grabbed a pen. She'd better keep track of all the timings. It might be helpful. She opened the notebook to the first empty page.
Keith Starr's death - she wrote the top of the page - timeline. She wrote down the timings of Keith comings and going at the café, just as she remembered it from the conversation with Jack.
She put down the pen and reviewed what she'd written. The drug was added to his coffee sometime between 7.33 and 7.38 am. The person who did that must have been around the café at that time, ready to do what he or she wanted to do. There was a big potted plant outside, and the board with the menu and a big 'OPEN' sign printed in fancy letters. Probably large enough for the killer to hide behind.
It must have been someone who had access to the drug, of course. Who could it be? Jack said it was a painkiller, but was it something that could be bought over the counter?
She reached for her phone and opened the browser. She tapped the name of the substance into the window and hit search. A few minutes later, she discovered that morphine and other similar substances were used to treat people in severe pain and were strictly regulated. They were also drugs of abuse, and hence accessible outside official channels for those who were desperate enough. She went through her mental list of local drug users who were known to her either from petty crime interactions with the local cops or from the local gossip. None of them seemed to fit.
She was back in the same corner, feeling as though she was banging her head against a brick wall. She still had no idea who could have committed this crime, or why.
Well, except, of course, Jane Starr. Who happened to have access to the drug, a potential motive and, Katie inhaled sharply, nodding reluctantly, also an opportunity. The five-minute window between Katie leaving for the supermarket and Keith walking back outside was sufficient for her to reach the café from her house even with her being unable to walk briskly.
She picked up her pen and chewed on it, looking over her notes. She'd gone full circle, back to Jane. It didn't make sense, though. Unless obviously Jane killed him in self-defence. Or maybe she'd grown sick of his caring-cum-controlling behaviour. Maybe something like that had happened before. Maybe that was what Michael was referring to?
But what about Jane's disability, her limping around the house and her need to take frequent rest breaks. Unless, of course it was only for show.
Katie chomped on the pen so strongly, the top part came off. She spat it out.
Why on earth had nobody seen the coffee poisoning actually happen? What bad luck that the CCTV was in the café but not outside... There must have been some people around. Builders, parents driving kids to school, people walking their dogs. With a coffee shop open, there should be people around!
Katie exhaled, exasperated. Why hadn't she looked when she was passing by? It was that sharp bend in the road. Drivers had to watch if there was anyone coming from the other direction.
She pushed the pen and notebook back into her handbag together with her phone. With her new, longer working hours, she had less time on her hands, but still enough for a little field trip before the school pickup time.
She was going to have a look around the crime scene herself. Maybe that would spark some new ideas?
She could pretend to pop around to have a look at the workshop, which wasn’t far from the coffee shop. It had been months since she inherited it, but she hadn't heard about any progress with the legal proceedings.
After saying goodbye to Chris, Katie left the office, jumped into her car and drove off towards Sunny Meadows. This time, she was heading to old Mrs Dunbar's house.
13
She slowed down as she reached the T-junction where Meadowbank Road met Stream Drive. The house at the corner used to belong to Phyllis Dunbar, one of Katie's first and best cleaning clients. Phyllis had died three months ago and the bungalow had remained empty ever since. Her gaze slid over the dark, dusty windows. Despite it being winter, the flower beds and the lawn were quite well-maintained, no doubt the result of Roy Dunbar's hard work. Shame that inheritance processes took so long. He deserved to take over the place.
A wave of sadness crept over her, tears gathered at the back of her eyes. Katie had liked Phyllis and suffered a great loss when she died. It had been a strange point in Katie's life - her first murder, then investigations and, of course, meeting Jack.
Katie pulled her car in front of the workshop and wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers. She needed a bit of fresh air. She opened the window and looked at the workshop - her workshop, apparently. It hadn't changed much since she last saw it. The dark smudges from the fire were still there, despite all the rain that had battered their town in recent months. Roy must also have attended to the strip of grass alongside the workshop since she had last seen it, because it looked reasonably tidy. She hadn't heard from Roy, the executor of Phyllis' will, nor her solicitor, Sarah Bloom for a while. Maybe it was time to give them a ring and check on progress.
Not wanting to bother Roy, Katie called the solicitor's office.
Sarah Bloom was too busy to take Katie’s call but her assistant sounded pleasantly surprised when Katie introduced herself.
'Oh, Mrs Redford, good to hear from you. I've got you on my to-do list for this week. The legal proceedings are nearly over. We have some updates for you.'
'It sounds like good news,' Katie said cautiously.
No one ever knew with lawyers...
'Mrs Bloom is still dealing with the final details but it is likely that in the next few weeks you'll be able to take over the workshop. There is some inheritance tax to pay.'
Katie winced. Of course there were taxes to pay. But how was she supposed to do that?
'Do you know how much?'
'Unfortunately, no. But Mrs Bloom might be able to advise you on that.'
Katie stifled a sigh.
I'll cross that bridge...
'So, shall I wait for your call this week?' Katie asked.
'No. The next step will be an appointment with Mrs Bloom. I'll give you a call when it's all ready.'
'Alright then,' Katie said. So, it was news about waiting for more news. Typical. 'I’ll await your call.'
She tossed the phone back into her handbag, rolled up the window and started the engine again. Back to here and now, Katie. If she wanted to have a look at the place where Keith was killed she'd better hurry up.
Stream Drive was quiet. She drove past the Starrs' house, noting the yellow tape floating in the wind and an unmarked white van — most certainly the forensic team. She slowed and some twenty yards later, drove onto the grassy bank, hoping it wasn't too soft and that she would not get stuck in mud. She climbed out of her car and slammed the door. This part of the stream created a bend that the road followed. She waded through the long grass towards an old oak that grew near the top point of the curve.
She stood a few steps from the tree and took a deep breath. The air was dry and crisp. She might even say it was nice, if she wasn't there in connection with yet another murder...
She swept her gaze along the section of Stream Drive opposite, taking in the building site to her right, the Café Meadows, the zebra crossing in front of her, the green square to her left and the empty plot next to it. The Starrs' house was hidden behind the bend. She could see the murder scene clearly: the café with a yellow cross, undoubtedly made with the police tape, adorning the entrance. The large pot plant containing a small cypress tree was still standing by the door. The pavement
in front of the café stood empty, the little bench around the corner was empty, and that whole part of the road was empty. If there was a good place to observe the crime scene, it would have been where she stood – a perfect vantage point. Except, on the morning of the murder, there had been no one to one to take advantage of it — at least no one Katie had seen.
This was the most recent, and apparently, according to local gossip, the final part of Sunny Meadows to be developed. The sales had not been going as well as the investors had hoped. Several plots stood empty. The long building behind the café was meant to be a community centre with little shops and offices for the various services necessary in residential area. The low-level building along Sunflower Lane, behind the green square was a nursery school, due to open in Spring. A row of terraced houses with 'For Sale' signs on them stretched further along the street. Until her visit, Katie hadn't realised the expansion plans for this part of town were so big. Michael Bower and his company were building a little village of its own here!
Katie waded through the tall grass on the stream’s bank, heading towards the café and the building site opposite it. She crossed the road to study the building site. The gate was open, but the site looked empty. It was a sports complex, finished, but probably still being furnished, judging by the piles of cardboard boxes piled by the dumpsters out front. Surely there should be some workers here? She stood by the gate, listening for the typical sounds of workmen and heavy equipment. But the only noise breaking the silence was the wind playing in the layers of cardboard.
Katie retreated back to the road and crossed the little street separating the building site from Café Meadows. Begonia Drive - what a lovely name! Probably they’d had a naming convention for the entire suburb — and a highly suitable one, all to do with meadows and flowers. She could imagine the area transforming itself into another section of Sunny Meadows with its little houses painted in pastel colours, and cute little front gardens, the little streets all clean and bordered by manicured lawns.
Cute in most circumstances, but creepy in the face of murder.
Katie reached the café. It was a perfect location for a little café and, if it was open, Katie would definitely want to sit down and have a steaming cup of dark, aromatic coffee. She wouldn't leave the drink for a second though. Just in case...
Katie shuddered. It was irrational to think like that. Why would anyone want to poison her? The drug must have been intended for Keith - who had been the café’s only regular customer since the building sites wound down for winter. The murderer must have known Keith’s little morning ritual and had come prepared.
But where from?
Katie took in the view around her once more. The murderer could have come from either direction while it was still dark, parked somewhere distant, walked the rest of the way and hidden behind the big tree at the top of the bend, only a hundred yards or so from the café. Or in the building site, behind the fence. Or around one of the corners - even behind the big rubbish bin at the side of the café.
Lots of hiding places to choose from for anyone who knew the area.
Katie shivered and pulled her jacket closer. The sun might have been up in the sky, but it gave off little warmth, and her thoughts were giving her the chills. She stood still for a few more seconds, just looking around hoping to see something or someone that might help solve the puzzle. But the area seemed as quiet and innocent as it had been before. Her teeth chattered. She had to go back into the car, back to the warmth.
14
After Katie picked Julia up from school on time, the afternoon went along quietly. Her daughter ate her dinner without protesting. She even did her homework. Katie was grateful for the arrangement with Julia’s best friend's parents that Julia could spend the evening at their place once a month. Moreover, Ines O'Brien's mum was happy for Julia to arrive half an hour earlier than usual that night. Once she’d dropped off her daughter, Katie drove off to collect Jane from the Sunny Corner.
Her phone’s GPS led her from the town centre towards the Sunny Corner Hotel. She reached the point where the main road met a narrow gravel one that curved away, following the stream. As instructed by the mechanical voice from the GPS, she took the turn onto the dirt road, driving slowly to minimise the effect of the bumps. After a few hundred yards, she reached a gate with The Sunny Corner sign pinned to it. She crossed the cattle grid and pulled up the Micra in front of a large mauve-coloured house with a bright red roof. It looked new and fresh and joyful in the bright winter sunlight. A large sign beside the door read, The Sunny Corner - "Conferences, Retreats, Quiets Days in Nature."
The perfect place for a hotel.
She climbed out of her car, wondering what she should talk to Jane about. Should she distract her or rather, let her talk about her husband and his death?
Maybe she should just play things by ear?
The last thought was definitely the best one. Katie walked into the reception and immediately spotted Jane nervously clutching her handbag and a plastic carrier bag. Sarah was standing beside her. She smiled with visible relief seeing Katie walk through the door.
'Hi, Jane. I've come to pick you up,' Katie greeted the women.
'Are you sure you'll be all right, Sarah?' Jane turned to his sister and grabbed her forearm.
Sarah shuddered. She put her hands on Jane's shoulders.
'Of course, sis. You know I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about.'
' I'll try my best not to think about all those worries. I'll try not to think about Keith,' Jane's voice quivered while pronouncing the name of her husband. Her shoulders trembled. Sarah draped her free arm around Jane and embraced her like a mum embracing her little child.
A wave of sadness came over Katie. What a heart-breaking scene. Jane had such a supportive sister.
'You'll be fine, sis,' Sarah said, gently guiding Jane towards the door. 'You just need to focus on making him that journal. Celebrate the good times. Don't think about the bad times. Just focus on the positive.'
Jane shuffled her feet.
'Jane, Katie is waiting for you,' Sarah said quietly but firmly and removed her arm. Katie took the cue and gestured Jane to follow her to the car, keeping herself two steps ahead. It wasn't far and she was sure Jane could manage the few yards by herself. She couldn't face another clinging session.
'You have a lovely sister,' Katie said once they were in the car. 'She seems very caring.'
'Sarah's my big sister, she's always been there for me, even when she moved out. We're a very close family. I find it so hard being on my own,' Jane's voice broke into a whimper.
Katie bit her lip. 'Do you have any other siblings?'
'No, just Sarah.'
'Any friends?'
'Not beside Keith,' she said, and another sob shuddered through her slim body.
Katie ran her tongue around her paper dry mouth. This wasn't an easy conversation.
'Not even from school or university?'
'I met a few nice people when I was at university, but when I became ill I ended up finishing most of my courses in distance learning. I lost touch with so many people.'
Katie nodded. It made sense.
'Have you made any friends here, in Sunnyvale?'
'Sadly, no. I was hoping to, though.'
'Well, you have made a nice start with me,' Katie said and glanced at Jane. Her face was pale and her eyes still brimmed with tears, but the shadow of a smile formed on her lips.
'Thank you, Katie. The people in the club also seem lovely.'
'I'm sure you can make more friends tonight. Do you remember talking to Dorothy last time? She is the woman with short spiky hair who likes wearing colourful clothes,' Katie added.
Jane nodded. 'Yes, I remember. She was very nice.'
'She'll be there, too.'
They drove on a little in silence. Katie was racking her brain, trying to come up some neutral chat topics.
'I've heard you are planning to work on your journal. Is it a scrapbooking p
roject?'
'Yes.'
'I haven't had a proper look at the machine you've brought. But it looks quite interesting. I've been wondering about using such a thing myself. Can you show me how it works?'
'I'm still learning,' Jane replied. 'It's not very complicated, but it's important to align all the elements. I can show you if you like.'
'Have you left your scrapbooking journal at the club?'
'Yes. I put it with the machine. I mean someone put it away for me. I think it might have been, what's her name? The lady who sat next to me.'
'That was probably Linda McKay, from what I can remember. I'm sure we'll find it on the shelves.'
They fell silent again and Katie concentrated on the increased traffic as they reached the centre of town.
'I haven't always been like this,' Jane said suddenly. 'I used to be quite outgoing and capable. I also did a lot of things around the house. I looked after my mother. She’s bed-ridden with MS. It comes and goes. On a bad day she may need to be fed.'
'I'm very sorry to hear that. It must have been hard for everyone when you moved to Sunnyvale.
'Dad’s looking after her. Sometimes she needs to go into respite care when dad's away or to hospital when she has a flare-up.'
It didn't look as though Jane had led a carefree life...
'So, when did your illness start? If I may ask.'
'I was diagnosed with CFS, chronic fatigue syndrome, when I was twenty-three, my last year of university. But I’d been struggling for a year before that. I already knew Keith at that stage. I was studying English language and literature, and he was finishing his journalism degree. He started off doing an engineering course but didn't enjoy it and he switched courses. He's six years older than me. We met at a summer creative writing course he was running for the first-year students. He was so caring and helpful, I fell in love instantly.'
Katie braced herself for another bout of sobs but strangely, Jane just continued with the story.
'I had to take a break from university to recover. And then I took two years to complete my finals. That's when I lost touch with my friends. You know, when I was still at school and even in my early university days, I used to run regularly. I was quite a good runner. I've got long legs so it was easy for me...'
