Bromington Heights

by Trisha Kelly

  “What’s this, Bumble?” Rosie asked. A book had fallen down from among the cookbooks. Was this some sort of a clue? A nudge in the right direction perhaps. Hold on a minute, there was no gap among her books, they were still standing upright with bookends of chiselled lumps of agate either end. They had been a present from Jane. Her parents had brought them home from their world-wide travels.

  Psychic Wave Books – Life after Life by James Sallow

  There in front of her was a thick paperback book written by their wealthy B & B guest. Dorothea was most certainly pushing them together for some reason. “So, rather than ask Matt for help, you’re showing me how I should work it out myself, huh?” The penny dropped. “James didn’t come here on a whim, did he? He isn’t just passing through either. Somehow, Dorothea, you have brought us together. He is the one that has everything to do with this case and we are the two who need to connect.”

  “One clean dog, who are you talking to, Rosie?”

  “Oh, just our friendly resident ghost, or one of them anyway. I’ve decided to keep you as my personal plaything, Matthew Walker. I really must solve my cases on my own!”

  “Uh-huh, so you’re just after my body, not my brains. I can live with that! Here you are, Bear prefers your gentle drying technique to my rough handling.”

  “You smell better, Bear, you’re such a naughty little thing.” Rosie received several licks over her nose and cheeks while she towel-dried her small pal and pondered over the book. Poor Matt, he fell sound asleep with his head on her lap as she wasn’t able to put the book down, once she’d started. Bear was curled in a ball on Matt’s legs. Rosie had her feet up on the pouffe and Bumble had settled behind her head, snoring gently.

  At 11:30 p.m. they were all sound asleep. A gentle nudge at 02:00 a.m. woke Rosie. “Come on, Princess, let’s go to bed,” Matt whispered. He scooped her up and she plonked her arms around his neck.

  Luckily, Anna was managing the staff today. At 07:30 Rosie woke up, still wearing her clothes from the night before. She slipped out of bed and got in the shower, brushed her teeth, combed her wet hair and went to put the kettle on, by the time she came back, Matt was running the shower. A naughty thought raced through her mind. After laying down the food bowls for the pets and removing the dog flap lock, Rosie closed the bedroom door. This was her private time.

  Later that morning, Matt sat with his laptop typing up a bit of paperwork to print off when he was back in the station. Rosie sat at her desk, with just two fascinating chapters left to read in the book she’d started the previous evening.

  Despite her first impressions of James, she was now a fan. No wonder he was a best-selling author. He was blessed, a talented writer and without doubt at the top of his game with all things other-worldly. There was also a section referring back to the times he volunteered help to the police when they worked on cases and their trails went cold. In spite of this, even if they worked together somehow in the future, with her sharp mind and his ability, what did it have to do with the here and now? A man of his status would surely only undertake to help Rosie if he felt he owed her. Owed her for what? Saving his life, perhaps. A chill ran over her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that James was in trouble.

  Maybe, he was unable to predict his own life, maybe that was a power not bestowed on him. The clock was running down, and she had to act. Maybe this was her first clue. That she was searching for a murderer who held a grudge against people with means. There was no denying in a place as small as Bromington-on-sea, James would stick out as the very affluent person he was. The trouble was, she didn’t know anyone who fitted the murderer’s description.

  There was no-one on her radar who remotely fitted a killer’s profile. Maybe she should concentrate on finding out more about the people around here who she didn’t know. Especially those who had a fiery temperament. Or, maybe, that quiet loner somewhere. She was looking for the local weirdo. James had been drawn here because he had to face his foe, it was fate. His fate. Only Dorothea knew the importance of Rosie having an open mind and being receptive to ideas.

  What was Rosie’s role in this murder? One that James knew could potentially happen, just not the where or who part. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so keen to travel here, had he known. It was no coincidence he’d stayed at this B & B, Dorothea had willed him here. Rosie had to keep him safe, keep him low key, keep him out of the public eye for the next two weeks. And she must do all of this without arousing his suspicions. An idea struck her. She knew just the place to ‘store’ him at the end of the week.

  But where was he now? If he strutted around Bromington informing everyone he was buying a building worth almost four million pounds, or if he simply sauntered around in his car worth, what? A quarter of a million, he was bound to attract some attention. Shoot! Rosie jumped up and grabbed her phone. “Back in a minute, Matt, by the way, how do you fancy a lodger for a few weeks? I’m very sure he will pay you well.”

  “Sorry? Lodger? Who are you talking about? Hang on, I already have one at the minute, just till he finds a place…” it fell on deaf ears. Rosie was gone. “There’s always the box room,” Matt called after her. Matt’s house went with his job, it doubled up as the police station around here. Whenever he and Rosie finally got wed, he would move out of there, make way for another officer who would stay there with the two police dogs. They were also a part and parcel of the set up, they had their own kennels at the rear of the property.

  He would be bringing his dark cat with him. Maxwell, with his black fur and red eyes. Bumble would be in for a bit of a culture shock. Not all pussy cats were warm and cuddly, but Maxwell was a gent all the same. He’d sleep in the garden, on guard. Matthew carried on with his form, wondering what Rosie meant by a lodger. He also realised just what he’d been thinking about more and more of late. Marriage. The next logical step in their blossoming relationship. They were engaged but he wanted Rosie Wodehouse to be his wife very soon. Rosie Walker, his beautiful, red-haired, forever lady.

  Undercover boss

  So, it was all set. Though what James was going to think of a 9 x 8 foot single room with a shared bathroom… Rosie could only smile at the thought. This was perfect, what better place to be than under police protection so to speak. An hour ago, Rosie had introduced James to Matt, dropping them both on the spot, but needs must.

  “I was thinking, James,” Rosie said over coffee. “As you are trying to be somewhat incognito, what better way to get a real feel for the area than to mingle as a plain and simple tourist. To stay somewhere quite ordinary and travel undercover. Put your car in Matt’s garage and use taxis, buses, or hire a modest vehicle. The perfect way to find out about the local folk…”

  “I love the way you are thinking, yes. And if there is a potential murderer in our midst, why, with my ear to the ground, I may just pick up a few vibrations of sorts.”

  “I pretty much know everyone here, there’s only a few folk, I don’t really know too well. Why don’t I scour about Bromington-on-sea, while you investigate Bromington Town.”

  “I know what you mean, my dear. Mingle with the commoners, an undercover boss if you like. Which is what I could be in a roundabout way, I think the area would benefit from my input and jobs can be created, of that I’m sure.”

  Matt had switched off at the starting point of a large donation going into the local police coffers in return for a few weeks bed and breakfast at the police station. He’d merely raised his eyebrows at the breakfast part. After showing James his humble room and where everything was, Matt would leave the wealthy man to it; he was only doing it for Rosie.

  Pre-planned murders based on psychic dreams and ghostly intervention wasn’t really on Matt’s day-to-day agenda. Still, if Rosie wanted to work on those lines, then he would give her all the support she needed. Although the thought had crossed his mind, she was just trying to keep James Sallow out of the public eye for the time being.

  Just then a mobile phone rang. Some classical tune, it
could only belong to James, who let it ring an acceptable while before responding.

  “Sallow here.” He listened to the caller. “I see; well, offer them 200K more and that is my final offer. Good day.”

  James smiled. “Never offer the asking price. Start a little on the offensive side and work your way back up to where you both know you were going anyway. I don’t think I could possibly use public transport. Tell me, where can I hire an incognito vehicle? Oh, I see you’ve bought one of my books, how sweet. I must sign it for you. Please, don’t buy another. I will donate you copies of the entire collection.”

  Matt grinned at the expression on Rosie’s face. “There’s a Yellow Pages there, take it with you, James. I’m sure there are listings for hire cars. Come to the station Friday morning once you’ve checked out here. We’ll sort everything out from there. Me and Rosie are just off out soon, making the most of our day off.” Matt stood, turned off his laptop and headed for the bathroom.

  “Don’t let me keep you, I’ll pop your directory back later.” James Sallow would learn fast, how to fit in if he wanted to be one of them!

  “News to me we are going out for the day,” Rosie laughed.

  “We are now; do you think Jane or Anna will Bear sit for the afternoon?” Matt smiled.

  “I’m sure they’d love to, as long as he stays away from the dresses. They are making small posy bags today and adding the finishing touches. If not, he is quite happy now to be left for a while.”

  ~

  Lucky for Matthew, only one of the ex-London bobbies needed a room for the moment. Bradley Stimpson. For now, he was patrolling in Bromington Town most days. A visible street presence in the community once more. He had been happy to transfer. Stabbings were becoming a regular thing where he came from and he was too young to die a hero. Bradley rather fancied himself as more of a dashing village copper, like something out of Heartbeat. Maybe that was because he liked the 60’s music they played in the background all the time too; it was one of his old favourite TV shows he watched as a teenager. It was probably the reason he wanted to become a copper.

  Between them, Matt had been quick to nickname Bradley as Nick, after Nick Rowan and in return, Matt now had the label of Oscar, after Oscar Blaketon, nowhere near as flattering on the eye. The two of them had good banter and understanding. Deep down, Matt wouldn’t fancy working in London either. Not these days. Not only that, Bradley was fast approaching thirty and getting nowhere fast in the large station he worked at before. Matt couldn’t understand that, they were the same age and the new copper had all the hallmarks of a fellow Sergeant. There was talk of a second small station in the future, there was room for them both. For now, Bradley was happy to live and work at the station with Matt and his small team.

  Neither Rosie nor Anna knew the real identity of the new male arrival. But, when it did eventually come to light, they would know Dorothea had a hand in it. For now, the two best friends had kept Dorothea’s predictions to themselves. Anna’s future husband, being one of them.

  All too soon, Matt was off home again and Rosie could turn her full attention to the matter in hand. Murder. It was now Thursday, and James was off tomorrow morning. Anna and Jane had at long last finished the dresses and accessories, they were under wraps. Both women wanted to surprise Rosie on the day with the finished garments.

  But first, Rosie had promised her dad, Walter, a few hours of her undivided attention! Sybil and Betty didn’t quite have the right idea of his personal tastes, not like his daughter. Besides, he wanted to make sure he was colour co-ordinated.

  Bear was off upstairs today, flat No.3. Anna was working on her latest pet portrait. Her attention to detail was like none, Rosie had ever seen. Every single piece of fur stood out. The small dog loved it on her low sofa, he’d happily spend the morning asleep while the painter left a low radio on, it helped her concentrate. After that they were off to the beach. Jane had already left, she had hairstyles to go through with the hairdressers who were taking on extra staff on the morning of the wedding. They also had a nail technician or two, there was a real buzz between Izzy and Sandra. They were fully booked on that morning and the day before. Iris had been commissioned to bake the cake and Jane was sorting out the finer details for that.

  Jane had a wonderfully calm exterior and interior. She was dealing with the florist, making arrangements with the Village Hall, the church was a little disappointed to know they wouldn’t be getting wed there, but still, close by. They had chosen their venue on a licensed boat. With the view of the sea all around them. The vicar was still performing the ceremony, but as neither were church-goers and had both been married before, they didn’t feel comfortable with the inside service.

  Hopefully, the long-term weather forecast was for an Indian summer and plenty of warm days running up to it throughout the summer. Which meant a calm sea, according to the tide chart and forecast. Should the worst happen, the Lobster Pot had a license for weddings.

  The invitations had arrived yesterday, and Jane and Walter wanted to personally hand them out to the guests invited to the wedding and the reception.

  Then there were general invitations to the reception only. Their wedding was only for attendance by their daughters and their closest friends. Whatever else was going on, happening or not happening, Jane was still ploughing ahead with arrangements. She was confident if there was a puzzle to solve to avoid any sort of catastrophe, then Rosie would find the way.

  Right on time, Walter pulled up and gave three loud bibs, his signal to Rosie he was waiting in the car park for her.

  “Hello, Dad!” Rosie gave him a big hug and he her.

  “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you for three weeks or more, Rosie. It’s all go around here of late. Now then, I can tell you, I’ve been dragged around every shop for ten miles, what say we go further along the coast?”

  “Let’s do lunch as well. I’ve got a few things to tell you, Dad, along with my hunches, see what you think!”

  “Lunch and chatter it is, then we better get on and find me something grand to wear. I can’t be the thorn amongst the roses!” Rosie laughed and the two of them sung along to a few old tunes along the way. The sun was shining, and it was a lovely time for a day out.

  Who would have guessed by just after three o’clock that day they’d be finished? Walter was going to be suited and booted to perfection. Rosie was so excited, because she knew the style they’d found, was going to match his bride-to-be so well. A three-piece vintage plaid charcoal suit with a faint black pinstripe running through it. His tie was an antique rose colour and the silk pocket handkerchief matched perfectly. The shirt was traditionally white. They both agreed on black brogue shoes and Rosie treated her dad and Matt to matching gold cufflinks. Her gift to her father and Matt, the best man.

  “I’ve had a good think about everything you said, Rosie and I’m very open-minded. I have to say, I agree with you. As the wedding itself is a private affair, the Village Hall reception will be open to all the locals. I have an idea. Why don’t you offer to take some of the evening invitations and deliver them by hand? Cover all the houses around and about and those along the coast. It will be a good way of discovering who lives where and introducing yourself to those you don’t know. Maybe Anna can go with you? After all, we have hijacked the Hall on the night it was due for a knees-up anyway.”

  “Great idea, Dad. I think Jane will be glad of the offer of help, she has been so busy preparing everything.”

  “She will be very relieved to know at long last, I am sorted out as well, thanks to you. Anyway, if the evening is invitation only, it’ll keep out any unwanted gate-crashers. Let’s hope this ‘murder’ do will have been averted by then and out of the way.”

  “Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” Rosie asked when they were halfway home. She rubbed her dad’s arm with a soft touch. Beneath all the fun they’d had today there was no mistaking the worried look in his eyes.

  “I got a letter. Well, you g
ot a letter actually. I haven’t opened it, but I recognise the handwriting. It wasn’t even addressed properly. Just: Rosalyn Wodehouse c/o the Garden Centre.”

  “Only one person calls me that.”

  “Exactly. It came last week, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone or mention it in front of Jane. Not this close to the wedding. But coming from your mother…”

  “No mother of mine. Where’s the letter?”

  “In the glovebox. The good thing is, she probably thought I just moved on, never did stay at the Garden Centre, it’s probably doubtful she thinks you’re still at the B & B.”

  “So, by sending it to me at the Garden Centre, she thinks Sybil will forward it to wherever we are.”

  “I expect so, dear.”

  Rosie ripped it open. There was no way she would ever let that woman intimidate her or her father ever again. She read the letter, then read it again. Without saying a word, she put it in her pocket.

  Friday came and after a lengthy goodbye and many air kisses James finally drove away. He was the typical male version of a ‘Drama Queen’. Adorable just the same, he had grown on them. Matt reported to Rosie later that evening his new house guest had disappeared for most of the day in his undercover boss mode and more than likely, to avoid the claustrophobic allocated bedroom, his home for the next few weeks. To be more precise, Mr. Sallow had asked if it was a shoe closet.

  Later that evening, Rosie took the letter from her pocket and read it once again. It was no use - she would have to ring the number.

  An icy blast from the past

  Not only did they have a pram from the jumble, Rosie had found a jumble buggy one day, well past its best, but the tattered red-checked single seater was fine for its purpose. Today it was being used to push Bear as soon as his short legs got tired. Rosie was hand-delivering the invitations in a bag hanging from the handle. Plus, the shelf underneath had dog bags, a blanket, a bowl for Bear, a large bottle of water and a few snacks and dog treats. Rosie had no idea how long she’d be out, and she wanted to be alone. Any mobile calls were going straight to answerphone. She did her best thinking without distractions. Today they were going in the opposite direction to the harbour, which Bear didn’t agree with. The young pup kept trying to pull Rosie backwards and he was yapping non-stop.