by Luna Snow
As she reached the front door, Abby turned towards the archway that divided the cafe and the curio shop. The window was much smaller through there, and as a consequence it appeared much darker and she had to strain her eyes to see into the room. If she thought the cafe had looked sinister in the half light, then the curio shop looked positively menacing. The strange artefacts cast dark shapes along the walls, and the old African tribal masks seemed to be watching her from their place on the walls.
There was a table in front of her, and Abby held her hands out in front to stop her walking into its hard edges. As she reached forward she touched something soft and fleshy and recoiled immediately. The room was cloaked in silence and only her fast breathing disturbed the quiet.
There was only one thing for it; she would have to switch on the lights.
The electric light was a sharp contrast against the dim light, and Abby had to shield her eyes for a second. Looking into the room she blinked, and then blinked again.
A large mound of something lay slumped across the table in front of her. Abby caught her breath. The large mound of something was Mr Beecher.
She stood, frozen to the spot for a second. If it wasn’t such an awful situation she would have laughed. The man’s face was reed, the blood shot eyes staring open and the rubbery lips set open in a cry of astonishment. For a moment she thought he would get up and start blaming her for leaving a table in his way, but she realised that Mr Beecher would never get up or ever shout again.
He was dead.
As she took on the scene she noticed a pool of blood dripping from the body and onto the wooden floor. The poor girl stood transfixed for a second by the constant drip, drip, until the horror of the situation started to dawn on her. The poor man had been stabbed in the back; she could see the weapon sticking out of his coat. For a moment Abby thought she would be sick, or even faint, but she managed to steady herself against the wall before walking slowly back into the kitchen to phone the police.
It was only then that she noticed the kitchen door was open. She always kept it closed to keep Frisky out of the way of her baking. Now it stood wide open. What if the killer was still inside the house?
Creeping up to the door , Abby held her breath. All she could hear was the tiny tick-tick of the kitchen clock. All was still. She almost jumped out of her skin as the cat rubbed against her legs.
“Frisky!”
If anyone were still in the kitchen they would have heard her, so taking a deep breath she walked though the doorway. The back door was slightly ajar. Whoever had killed Arnold Beecher had come through the kitchen. Snapping on the light she looked around for anything suspicious, trying at the same time not to touch anything.
“My cake!”
Dashing to the table, Abby stared in disbelief at her beautiful orange marmalade cake. Someone had roughly cut a huge chunk out of the cake and there was a trail of crumbs leading to the doorway.
“The killer ate my cake!”
Grabbing the telephone, she quickly phoned 999. The police would send someone round immediately.
There was only one thing she could possibly do while waiting for the police to arrive. She would put the kettle on and make a pot of tea.
“Abby, what on earth are you doing up so late?”
The voice almost made her jump out of her skin; her nerves were already frayed.
Pam stood leaning in the doorway and Abby could smell the alcohol on her breath. Her friend was drunk.
“Pam what on earth...? What are you doing here? Where have you been?”
It was obvious where she had been, and Pam swayed slightly in the doorway, a silly grin fixed on her face.
“We’ve just finished in the pub. It was a great night. I’m seeing Ben again tomorrow night. Do you know that fat American bloke Beecher had another go at me tonight after you left? He came down for dinner about 8 and started threatening me. Ben nearly socked him one. What a laugh...”
“Pam, there’s something you should know, but I think you better sit down first and for god’s sake don’t touch anything.”
“Whatsamatter?”
The young woman slurred as she lurched into the kitchen, and Abby guided her carefully into a chair.
“Mr Beecher is dead.”
Pam looked bemused.
“What do you mean dead? We only saw him a few hours ago?”
“I mean murdered!”
The whistling of the kettle cut through the quiet air as Pam struggled to understand the situation in her inebriated state.
“Here, have a cup of tea and do try and sober up before the police arrive.”
Over a cup of tea Abby described what she had found in the curio shop, the dead body of poor Mr Beecher.
“But he wasn’t ‘poor Mr Beecher’” Pam argued.
“He was a horrible man that everyone disliked.”
“For god’s sake don’t say that to the Police. Besides, he didn’t deserve to be stabbed in the back. I mean who would do such a thing?”
“I can think of a few people.”
A siren in the street heralded the police and Abby rushed to the front of the cafe to let them in. Two cars had arrived and a plain clothes detective surrounded by uniformed cops stood in the doorway.
Detective Mike Brown was a no-nonsense kind of guy. He had joined the police as a young man of 18 and he was looking forward to retirement. He looked tired and stressed with the lack of sleep.
“Miss Abby Fisher, I believe you have reported an incident?”
The police remained at the shop for several hours, examining first the body and then the crime scene. The curio shop was sealed off from prying eyes and only Pam was allowed to check through the room to see if anything was missing.
Pam checked quickly though her stock. She knew every item and it didn’t take her long to confirm that everything was as it should be..
“What about that vase Arnold Beecher was so intent on buying?” Abby looked towards the empty shelf where the ancient piece of pottery had sat for years.
Walking over to the shop counter, Pam picked up a bunch of keys and proceeded to unlock one of the drawers, before lifting out the vase.
“I put it away for safe keeping. Arnold Beecher seemed intent on having it so I thought it better to be safe than sorry.”
“Do you think that is why Mr Beecher came back to your shop tonight?” The detective took the object from Pam and examined it closely.
“I have no idea why Arnold Beecher was here Detective. You know as much as I do. He could have done, he did seem intent on buying it.”
“But you didn’t want to sell Miss Stevens. Can I take it that you argued with Mr Beecher?”
Pam started to feel flustered.
“It wasn’t an argument. You’re putting words into my mouth detective. He wanted to buy it and it wasn’t for sale, that’s all.”
“Why would you have an item in your shop that isn’t for sale? Why should Mr Beecher have been so intent on buying this? Is it valuable?” Where did you get it from?”
“It’s an heirloom; it has sentimental value to me that’s all. I would never sell it. Arnold Beecher wouldn’t let it rest. He even had a go at me in the Old George pub tonight, a friend of mine, Ben Slater can testify to that. He was with me.”
“Is Mr Slater your boyfriend? Where can I find him? Does he live here with you?”
The questions were fired quickly.
“I don’t live here and he’s not by boyfriend. We are good friend that’s all. He walked me down here tonight and we stopped off here to grab a bite to eat.”
“And what time was this?”
Pam paused. She had already said too much and now the line of questioning seemed all geared towards Ben.
“It was just about 12 when we left the Old George.”
“So where is Mr Slater now?”
Pam shrugged. “I guess he’s at home in bed?”
The detective narrowed his eyes.
“So you both had something t
o eat here and then what happened. What time did Mr Slater leave?”
Pam could feel a knot start to tighten in her stomach.
“Well, you see officer. I grabbed some cake and stepped outside to find Ben. But he had already gone. I went to find him, but I couldn’t.”
The detective scribbled more notes on the paper.
“I see. So what time was this?”
“I dunno. I guess somewhere between 12:30 and 1 am. When I passed the church it chimed 1.”
The detective tapped his chin thoughtfully with the pencil
“About the time of the murder eh. Did you see anyone else hanging around outside?”
Shaking her head, Pam could feel the tears start to prick at the back of her eyes.
“I didn’t see anyone at all.”
The questions seemed relentless and in her fragile state, Pam wasn’t up to answering and soon burst into tears.
“I’m sorry Miss. Perhaps we can come back tomorrow and you can answer some more of our questions then. Or better still, we can question you at the Police Station; both of you perhaps and then we can take your statements. About 10 o’clock in the morning. I’m sure you will both feel better after a sleep.”
Abby looked confused.
“I’m sorry officer, but we will be working at 10, our shop opens at 9.”
The police officer looked incredulous. “I’m afraid that this place won’t be open for a few days. My men have to carry out more tests at the crime scene. On the positive side, at least you will be free to answer more questions. Now I suggest that you both get some rest. I will be leaving a couple of my men here overnight so you don’t need to worry. It will also stop the crime scene being tampered with. Well I’ll say goodnight and see you both in the morning.”
Pam and Abby looked at each other helplessly.
“I know it’s only just happened officer, but are there any clues who might have done this terrible thing? “
The detective shook his head. “I’m afraid there is very little to go on at the moment. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
Abby thought hard. “There is one thing. The cake in the kitchen had been eaten. “
“In that case Miss Fisher, I suppose we can assume that whoever committed the murder also seems to be very fond of cake. If you think of anything else then please let us know. I’ll say goodnight for now!”
Chapter Five
Pam couldn’t face going home alone, and Abby didn’t want to be left on her own at the scene of a murder, even though two policemen were to keep guard. Pam decided to stay overnight in the flat with Abby.
There was only one single bed, but that didn’t matter. Neither of the young women would sleep that night.
Abby made some hot chocolate with whipped cream on the top, and for extra measure added a good slug of brandy. Both girls were still in shock and they needed something to calm their nerves. The sickly sweet mixture dulled their senses and the brandy warmed them. Despite the warm night, both were feeling positively icy, and sat wrapped up with the heavy bed quilt wrapped around them.
Between sips of hot chocolate, Abby looked thoughtful.
“What on earth were you doing back here Pam? Surely it’s not on your way home?”
Pam glared back from the top of her mug.
“What are you getting at? Surely you don’t think I was involved with the murder. For god’s sake Abby, what do you think I am? I thought that you were supposed to be my friend?”
Abby blew the top of her chocolate to cool it.
“Of course I don’t think you did it, but we have to get our stories straight for the Police tomorrow. They’re bound to question us both and you need to have a good answer for them.”
Pam stared into her mug.
“Well?”
“I don’t know really? Ben was walking this way so I thought I would walk back with him. You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense. But then again – I had drunk a lot. Ben was hungry, but the chip shop was already closed so I suggested that I nip in the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat...”
“Not my cake, surely Pam?”
The girls face admitted her guilt, even before she could speak.
“I’m sorry Pam. But we had drunk a lot.”
Abby could hardly believe her ears.
“You know that was for the cafe tomorrow Pam. I can’t believe it. You took almost half the cake!”
Now it was Pam’s turn to look surprised.
“That’s not true. I only took a bit. Besides the cake had already been started and I didn’t think that you would miss a tiny piece; I was going to give it to Ben.”
“WAS going to give it to him?”
“That was the funny thing. He said he would wait at the front of the shop but when I got there he had gone.”
“And?”
“Well, he wasn’t there so I ate it myself.”
Abby could feel herself starting to feel exasperated with her friend.
“I’m not bothered about the cake, but what about Ben, what did you do next? Was there anyone around?”
“Why all the questions Abby? You sound just like the detective.”
“Tell me Pam, I need to know.”
“Well, when I couldn’t find him at the front of the shop, I went walking through the village to see if I could catch him up. When I couldn’t find him I presumed he had gone back to his lodgings so I came back here. I needed to phone for a taxi and needed to use the house phone.”
“What time was this?”
“I dunno. It must have been well after midnight when we came out of the pub. Wait a minute. When I was looking for Ben I passed the church the church and the bell struck 1. I remember thinking I should try and phone for a taxi. That’s when I came back here.”
Abby’s face had turned pale. “It was about 12:45 when a noise in the shop woke me up. I checked my alarm clock at the time. You must have been out and about the same time as the murderer. Are you sure you didn’t see anything or anyone at that time? Think!”
Pam closed her eyes.
“I don’t think so. I was bursting for a wee, so I nipped into the church yard. After that I came straight here, and well, you know all the rest.”
The remains of the chocolate in her mug had started to form a skin over the top and Abby poked at the membrane with a spoon.
“You mentioned that Ben had almost hit Mr Beecher at the pub tonight, what happened?”
Pam looked aghast. “Surely you’re not accusing Ben now Abby?”
“I’m not accusing anyone Pam? I’m just trying to understand everything that went on tonight. The police are bound to ask the same questions. Well?”
The alcohol had started to catch up with Pam and she scratched her head.
“I dunno Abby. Arnold Beecher was being..., well, Arnold Beecher; his usual obnoxious self. He started on about that old vase and he started being very unpleasant to me again. He called me a silly stuck up tart and after that Ben started to see red. He swung for old Arnie and missed him, but the old guy hit back and scored a hit, directly on Ben’s nose. Well you can imagine how angry that made Ben, and he swiped again at the guy, but being drunk, he missed his target and just caught him on the arm. By that point a group of Ben’s friends had pulled him off.”
“What did Arnold Beecher do?”
“Well the old guy wasn’t hurt if that’s what you mean. But he started shouting the odds again. He talked about going to his lawyer and all that rubbish before he went back inside. At least there were plenty of witnesses to say that it was Arnold Beecher that struck first.”
Abby raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t sound as if they will make very reliable witnesses though. They were probably all as drunk as Ben Slater?”
Pam pulled a face. “You do have a point there, although those two old ladies from the cafe this morning were there. I think that they are part of the same coach party as Arnold Beecher and they were all eating their evening meal together. They were only drinking copious
pots of tea and would make excellent sober witnesses.”
Her friend remained silent.
“What’s wrong Abby?”
“I agree that they will make reliable witnesses. But what they witnessed at the Old George might cast poor Ben in a bad light? I’m afraid all of this doesn’t bode well for him. He has witnesses to say that he was arguing and almost fighting with a man that several hours later turns up murdered in the shop of his girlfriend.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.”
“This is serious Pam. Your account puts him at the scene of the crime at around the time of the murder and after that he just disappears? Just how well do you know Ben Slater, Pam?”
Pam screwed up her face. “I hadn’t thought about that! I don’t know Abby, I really don’t”
Chapter Six
The two young women had spent the rest of what remained of the night in silence. Pam brooding over Abby's suspicions, and even worse, her own conscience was now pricked over Ben Slater. He was such a great guy and she had fallen for him big style. Sure, he could get a bit wild when he had a drink or two, but that was normal for a young man, surely? He had acted in an aggressive manner towards Arnold Beecher, but that didn't mean he had killed the man did it? But what had happened to Ben after she left him outside of the shop; where had he gone? She had seen no-one else in the vicinity – only herself and Ben had been near the shop at a time close to the murder. And what about Abby? She was quick to point the finger at Ben. But she had her livelihood to lose if Arnold Beecher had done as he promised. This was Abby’s life and she had worked hard to build up the business. She wouldn't let an obese American spoil things without a fight. Her friend had been the one to find the body of Arnold Beecher. What if she had murdered the man? Abby could have easily cut the cake herself and everything else could have been an invention of her own mind. And one thing was for certain; Pam knew it most definitely wasn't her! Needless to say she didn’t feel at all sleepy.
