Downward Facing Death

by MICHELLE KELLY,

  “Yes, and I went round to pick up the license form for the food festival, and he seemed very agitated. I asked him what was wrong, and he said you had been questioning him.” Her explanation rang false even to her own ears. Ben stopped walking, his hand falling away from her back where it had still been resting, and he turned to face her.

  “You were doing it again, weren’t you?”

  When Keeley didn’t answer, trying her best to look as though she had no idea what he was talking about, Ben carried on walking, though at a markedly quicker pace.

  “You’re angry,” she stated. He gave a little snort and carried on walking, so quick, she had to almost jog to keep up with him.

  “Ben—” She reached out to touch his arm and was startled when he stopped and abruptly whirled around.

  “You are so infuriating!” He was glaring at her now.

  “I’m sorry, I just—” she began, but had no time to finish before Ben pulled her toward him and was kissing her again, crushing his mouth to hers. Keeley froze, startled and confused, then found her body and mouth responding to his of their own volition.

  When he broke away, he looked calmer; almost resigned. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, then picked up a tendril of her hair and curled it around his fingers.

  “You are the most stubborn, inquisitive woman I have ever met,” he said, somehow managing to make the words sound like a compliment.

  “Should I say thank you?” she teased. Ben shook his head at her; then he looped his arm through hers and they carried on walking, this time at a more manageable pace. Keeley touched her fingers to her lips, barely able to believe what had just happened. Or what it might mean. They walked to the bottom of Bakers Hill in silence; then Ben started to speak, as if the intimate interlude had never occurred.

  “I suppose you were thinking that Gerald was a victim of Terry’s blackmailing tactics, hence the money difficulties?”

  “It seemed to make sense,” she said tentatively, hoping he wasn’t going to get angry with her again.

  “Well, you were right. He left a paper trail, paid him straight out of his own bank account, so once I finally managed to get my hands on Terry’s financial statements, it was all there in black-and-white.”

  Keeley felt a stirring of excitement. “So you think it was him?”

  “No. Aside from the fact that he would have to be very silly indeed to murder a man when there was evidence to show what was going on, he was attending a public function over in Bakewell at the time of the murder. Very public, lots of witnesses.”

  Keeley felt deflated. Another dead end. Then she had a thought.

  “What about the housekeeper?”

  “Edna?” Ben sounded bemused.

  “It’s possible,” she said defensively, remembering the malice in the old woman’s face when she had confronted her. “She seems very protective of him. My mother said she’s had a thing for him for years.”

  “Did she?” Ben sounded as though he was considering the idea.

  “Was that why Terry was blackmailing him? Some sort of affair?” It seemed to be the theme of the moment. Ben shook his head.

  “No. I can’t go into too much detail, but it was to do with misappropriation of public funds during his first year as mayor. Nothing terribly exciting, but Gerald takes his reputation very seriously. He has quite the gambling problem, apparently, hence his association with Terry Smith.”

  “How did that man find out these things about people?” Keeley wondered.

  “Seems he had a knack for wheedling secrets out of people, especially over a few drinks. Raquel came across him while she was up in Manchester; he was up there betting on the dogs.”

  Keeley thought about that. It didn’t seem right, that one apparently unlikable man should be able to possess people’s secrets, but then if that man was the sort to chase up every throwaway comment, every suspicious look … She gave a little shudder. She had never known him, but the more she discovered about him, the harder it was to have much sympathy for the man, to remember that he was the victim, not the villain.

  Of course, that meant anyone, in theory, could have killed him. Not some evil, ruthless murderer but a normal person driven to desperate measures. Somehow Keeley found that idea more disconcerting than the image of a depraved killer lurking in the shadows.

  Once again, she had to ask herself, just where did she fit into all this? What was the link between her, the café or her father’s shop, a blackmailer with no friends, and his killer? She leaned into Ben, as much for reassurance as to her immediate safety as out of attraction, although the fizz of pleasure that went through her when his arm tightened around her and his hand stroked her hip felt anything but safe. Still, he carried on talking about the murder as though it were quite natural for them to walk together this way.

  “It still seems we’re on the right track with the killer being one of the blackmail victims,” he said. Keeley felt he was including her in that “we” rather than just referring to the police force, and linked her hand through his. “Why’s that?”

  “He was depositing regular large amounts into his account. There’s no other explanation for the money. So we can assume it was another victim of his, one paying in cash. Therefore not leaving a paper trail.”

  “The killer.”

  Ben nodded. They were nearly at Keeley’s door now, and his pace slowed.

  “It seems likely.”

  When they paused outside her door, it felt as if the very evening was observing them, the shadows themselves watching to see their next move. Keeley was on the verge of asking him to come in, without even pretending it had anything to do with the case, when he leaned down and kissed her again.

  This time he kissed her with tenderness rather than urgency, his lips slowly exploring her own, before stepping away, though he kept an arm loosely around her. Keeley wanted to invite him in then, very badly, but didn’t want to seem too forward, or risk him saying no, or let down her own carefully guarded defenses, so she stood mute, until Ben made the decision for her.

  “I should go, I suppose. We’ve both got an early start.” He made no move to go. Keeley nodded. “You should,” she agreed, not moving an inch herself. Finally they moved toward each other at the same moment and shared a lingering kiss, until Ben detached himself with obvious reluctance and began to make his way down the hill. Keeley watched him go until he merged with the shadows, then let herself in, locking up as usual and doing a last-minute check that everything was ready for the morning. She was as prepared as she would ever be, she decided.

  Certainly more prepared than she had been for the sudden, sure knowledge that she was falling hard for DC Ben Taylor.

  ANULOMA VILOMA—ALTERNATE-NOSTRIL BREATHING

  Restores balance to the body and mind, calming the nervous system and relieving stress. Brings the breath into balance and is perfect before meditation or any event where you need to be calm and focused.

  Method

  • Sit up tall, in a firm-backed chair or cross-legged on the ground.

  • Make Vishnu Mudra* with your right hand. To do this, bend your index and middle fingers down into your palm while keeping your thumb, ring, and little fingers straight.

  • Inhale and exhale deeply.

  • On your next inhalation, use your right thumb to close your right nostril, so that you inhale through the left nostril only.

  • Lift your right thumb from your right nostril and use your right ring finger to close the left nostril. Exhale through the right nostril.

  • Now inhale through the right nostril; then close it with your thumb.

  • Lift your ring finger from the left nostril, and inhale through it.

  • Repeat the entire sequence three to five times.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Prepared or not, Keeley couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong as she drove down with Annie in her landlady’s battered old Mini to the High Street, the backseat sta
cked with trays and pots of food, cutlery, and disposable plates. The feeling had persisted throughout her morning routine, and even a vigorous workout and a calming and balancing breathing exercise hadn’t managed to shake it off. It was a bright morning, the sun warm on her face through the window, but dark clouds were gathered over the hills, just waiting to descend on the town.

  The High Street was dotted with colorful stalls, and people were already milling about, an encouraging sign. She hoped she had been allocated a prominent stall, hopefully near the Yoga Café itself. She allowed herself a proud smile as she saw the sign hanging above, announcing its presence.

  However, as she quickly discovered when she tracked down one of the organizers, a stocky woman with a prominent mustache whom she had spoken to at church the week before, she was about as far away from the café as she could get.

  “You’re in the community center,” the woman told her, waving a hand in its direction. The center was tucked away behind the back of the High Street, next to the police station and the library. Not exactly a prime location to get her wares noticed. It also meant she would have farther to go if she needed to run over to the café to get more supplies, as she had made extra of everything, reasoning she could keep things warm in the café’s kitchen while she ran the stall.

  “It’s probably just because you’re new,” Annie said in an upbeat voice, though she gave Keeley a concerned look as she helped her carry things to and fro. Keeley wasn’t so sure, wondering if Gerald himself had had something to do with this. The stall itself was small, just a wooden table with a grubby white tablecloth thrown over it, in the far corner of the community center. There were only two other stalls in there; one showcasing a sorry selection of homemade cakes and the other representing the soup kitchen for the homeless in Derby City. Keeley wondered if anyone was even likely to venture in here.

  “I’m sure it will get busy this afternoon,” stated Annie firmly, her unwavering optimism making Keeley smile. “I’ve got a few things to do, but I’ll pop back soon and see if you need any help.” Her landlady gave her shoulder a squeeze before she left.

  The next hour or so ticked by inexorably slowly, leaving Keeley feeling more despondent with each minute that passed. All that preparation, and it looked as though most of her lovingly made dishes would be going to waste. She wondered if the woman from the soup kitchen would want some to take back with her.

  Her head was drooping onto her chest and her eyes closing when she heard a familiar laugh and was jolted out of her near sleep to see Megan and a few friends—including Pink Hair from the space-clearing incident—coming in and making a beeline for her stall. Keeley smiled at her gratefully as they all asked for a tofu burger with her rainbow salad and a bowl of the spicy root curry.

  “Delicious!” Megan exclaimed, finishing her bowl in a few mouthfuls and handing it back for a refill. In a quieter tone, she said, “I can’t believe they’ve stuck you in here out of the way. The High Street is so busy.”

  Keeley gave a resigned shrug, having decided over the course of the morning that there was little point in worrying about something she could do nothing to change. Then she heard the clacking of stilettos and knew even before she saw her that Raquel was approaching.

  Dressed in a trouser suit that must have cost as much as Keeley’s entire wardrobe, she was hanging on the arm of the same man she had seen her with before at Mario’s. Keeley wondered if this was Ben’s superior, then decided not, seeing as that man was apparently anxious to keep their liaison secret. No doubt Raquel had the proverbial black book full of men willing to give her an arm to hang off when the occasion called for it. Keeley willed herself to smile as the couple approached, although the glare Raquel aimed at her could have lasered through glass.

  “I wondered if you would be putting in an appearance. Not doing so well, I see.” She took in Keeley’s little display in one look, the disdain on her face as heavy as her makeup.

  “It’s still early.” Keeley tried to sound as friendly as possible, though she kept her hands stiff at her sides, half-fearing they would reach to scratch the other woman’s eyes out of their own accord. “Would you like to try something?”

  “It’s delicious,” Pink Hair chimed in—and not just for effect, as she was on her third bowl of the spicy root curry. Raquel wrinkled her perfect nose, and Keeley wondered if she had had work done on that, too.

  “No, thank you. I’m a little more fussy in my tastes, I’m afraid.”

  Keeley nearly bit her tongue trying not to reply, and felt gratified when Megan said incredulously, “Are you serious? Your place serves pie and chips, for God’s sake. And they’re not even homemade!”

  Raquel looked shocked at the un-Megan-like outburst; then her lips curled in a sneer as she looked at Megan as though she were a rather amusing cockroach. Megan visibly shrank back under the force of Raquel’s glare, looking upset. Pink Hair looked furious, chewing on her food rapidly. Raquel gave Keeley a triumphant glare and turned to her companion.

  “Let’s go, there’s nothing worth seeing here.”

  Keeley inhaled sharply. “Raquel,” she called. The woman paused and looked back over her shoulder. “I saw Ben last night. I thought you might like to know you were in the clear, seeing as you were otherwise engaged.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them, hoping they wouldn’t get back to Ben, yet she couldn’t help but feel a sliver of satisfaction as Raquel’s face drained of color. Her eyes narrowed, and her parting shot came out as a snarl.

  “You rotten bitch,” she said, and stalked out, virtually dragging her harassed-looking escort with her.

  “Nice girl,” Pink Hair said dryly, swallowing the last of her curry.

  “She’s positively evil,” Megan said, looking a little shaken. That was one of her intuitions Keeley felt inclined to agree with. But where did that leave them with the murder? So far, the only person she knew in Belfrey who seemed quite capable of committing evil acts was Raquel, and who better than a police chief to provide a watertight alibi?

  “It’s raining,” Megan announced, even though the grubby blinds on the windows of the community center were drawn down. Keeley wondered if her ability to read auras had morphed into weather premonitions, then saw what Megan had noticed: a small group of people had just entered the room, one of them shaking raindrops off a red umbrella. Keeley stood up straighter, organizing her face into a welcoming smile as they came over.

  “I’ll pop back later,” Megan said with a encouraging wink.

  The rain proved to be a blessing as more and more people retreated to the warmth and dryness of the community center and decided a sampling of Keeley’s food was just the thing after getting drenched.

  An hour later, she was relieved when Annie returned, bringing a handful of the church ladies with her who were all very enthusiastic about Keeley’s dishes. Before she knew it, there was a queue of people to serve, and Keeley was fielding questions left, right, and center about ingredients and the café itself, along with promises to attend the opening. Annie donned a spare apron and joined her in serving after a group of sticky-fingered children nearly capsized the stall, trying to get to the homemade ice cream. “I’m so sorry,” their mother muttered, looking beyond weary. Keeley grinned at her. The day had taken an unexpected turn for the better, and she doubted even a reappearance from Raquel could upset her now.

  “All right, lass?” A gruff voice caught her attention. Jack stood at the front of the queue with Bambi next to him, his great tongue lolling as he sniffed the aromas of food in the air.

  “I’ll have one of those burger things in a roll with some of that salad, and one on its own for Bambi here,” Jack said. Knowing that a tofu burger was likely to be the most exotic thing Jack had eaten in a long time, Keeley felt touched at the old man’s show of support.

  Unfortunately, it was a step too far for Jack, who chewed his first mouthful with a painful slowness, looking anywhere but at Keeley as he tried to mask his distaste.


  “Not quite my thing, lass,” he said with regret, then looked down at Bambi, who had swallowed his down in one gulp and was pawing at Jack’s leg hopefully. He gave an excited yelp when Jack gave the dog the remainder of his own, mumbling an apology to Keeley. She gave a shrug.

  “At least Bambi approves.” The dog wagged his tail, giving her a low woof before following Jack out.

  The spicy root curry at least was going down well, particularly as the afternoon went on and the day grew colder and wetter. English weather was something she definitely hadn’t pined for on her travels, and as the rain drew more people into the community center, Keeley found herself glad that she hadn’t been given one of the bigger stalls outside. She was soon ladling out more paper bowls than she could cope with, and was glad when Annie came back to help.

  “Have you got any more of this, dear? It’s certainly proving popular.”

  Keeley nodded, glad she had erred on the side of making too much rather than too little, and untied her apron.

  “I’ll run over to the café, there’s another tray of it.”

  It was indeed miserable outside, the sky gray and heavy and the rain running down the slope of the High Street, causing little rivulets and brooks in between the cobbles, which were slippery under her feet. Picturesque they might be, but there were times when there was nothing wrong with a bit of basic tarmac, she thought as she nearly slid across the street.

  As she righted herself, she nearly slipped again when a young boy bumped into her, gave her a startled look, and then ran off downhill, his shoes slapping on wet stone. He had looked panicked, his eyes wide and frightened, and Keeley looked in the direction he had just come from, and saw Jack Tibbons’s front door wide open. As she drew nearer, she could hear raised voices from inside and felt her stomach lurch. Something was very wrong.

  “Jack?” she called through the doorway, then when she got no reply knocked the door loudly and stepped inside into a small hallway. She saw Jack in the lounge room, kneeling down on the floor, making a strange keening sound as though in terrible pain, while a woman stood next to him with her hand on his shoulder, making soothing sounds. His sister, Keeley recalled as the woman turned and saw her.