by Mona Marple
“I don't know what that means, I’m sorry.”
“Oh!” Barb exclaims. “Well. On Tuesdays, if I came in and saw the light on in the office, I knew not to interrupt. He wouldn’t be alone in there, if you get me.”
“Oh, like a lady friend in there?” I ask, feeling my cheeks flush. I need to stop being so easily embarrassed.
“Uh huh.”
“So he was in a relationship?” Coral asks.
“Nope.” Barb says.
“Then…”
“Different girl each week. I’d see them walk out, always a different girl.”
“Where was he meeting them?” I ask, feeling stunned by the things that people do in their private lives. The most controversial thing I do is speak to the dead, and in this town, that’s not even noteworthy.
“Well, here, in the office. That’s why I couldn’t knock, you see?”
“No, no, I mean how did he find them?”
Barb shrugs as if the question’s never occurred to her. “Not really my place to ask.”
“Of course not.” Coral says, flashing a broad smile towards the secretary as she makes notes on her notepad.
“Where’s this interview gonna appear?” Barb asks, leading us back out to the reception area.
“I’m a freelance journalist, so I’ll ask publications to bid to feature my article.”
“Nice.” Barb says. “I ain’t never been in the press before. Apart from that time I won a cruise. Had to do an interview then, say how good it was. I had my hair did special. Y’all think there’ll be TV involved in this? Cos I’ll get my hair did again.”
“Oh, we’ll let you know.” Coral promises. “So, there’s been a lot of talk in the press about how Bruce - Mr Skipton - hadn’t been supporting his children financially. Do you know much about his ex-wives and children?”
“Of course I do.” Barb says. “All his post comes here, nothing goes to his house. I open it all, deal with it all. He don’t even see most of it.”
“Even if it’s personal?”
“He were a busy man. He couldn’t be dealing with the threatening letters and stuff.”
“Hold on - threatening letters?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. One every week. That’s why he met with him. It got to the point, I were forwarding them to his lawyers, but I thought he needed to know. So I tells him, you gotta sit down face to face and give ‘em the Mr Skipton magic. He were charming, you’d better believe it.”
“Who was it that you were telling him to sit down with?”
“Mr Thoms.”
“Sirius?” Coral asks.
“Well, I ain’t his friend or family. Mr Thoms to me.”
“I’ve heard that name.” Coral says. “Remind me who he is?”
“He’s the lawyer. He says he represents the wives and the kids.”
“Ohhhh.” Coral drawls, a piece of the jigsaw slotting into place. “And did that meeting happen?”
“Sure did.” Barb says, and then taps away on the computer. “Day before he died.”
“Did he say how it had gone?”
“That’s not really Mr Skipton’s style.” Barb says. “I know my place, there are some things I can whisper in his ear occasionally, make ‘em seem like they’re his ideas. But he don’t report to me.”
“No, of course.” I say. “What will you do now Barb, work-wise?”
“Oh, I won’t need to worry about that.”
“How so?”
“Mr Skipton always tell me, I was a loyal person and he’d see that I was repaid in his Will.”
I exchange a glance with Coral.
“And you believed him?”
“Can’t say I gave it any thought. Never expected him to go and die. Guess we’ll see what’s what at the Will reading. Til then, I got papers to file and people to notify. I’ma be right.”
“Barb, do you have any ideas about who might want to hurt him?”
“Well sure.” She says with a shrug. “He were a very unpopular man. I never understood why. He were straightforward. You knew what were what with him, he ain’t pretending to be anything he ain’t. All those wives and kids, they in the line for sure. Just a shame for them that the curse beat them to it.”
“You think it was the curse?”
“Well, it has to be. He were at the Baker House that night, next day he’s dead. Exactly as that witch said it would happen.”
“Do you have any contact with the wives and children?”
“Nah.” Barb says with a shake of her head. Dangly emerald earrings jingle as she moves. “Oh, actually, I got them all as friends on social media.”
“What?” I ask, incredulous.
“I got a fake profile.” She says with a small laugh. “Never check it. Knowledge is power. They out there crying poverty but they putting enough holiday pics online, mm-hmm.”
“Could you show them to us?”
“Sure can.” She taps away on the computer, pauses, frowns, taps away again. “I can’t remember the danged log ins. I tell ya what, maybe I can give ya that information later, when I see this first article in the paper. That might help my memory.”
I withhold a laugh, turning it into a cough.
“Well, thanks for your time Barb. It’s been helpful.” Coral says, and we see ourselves out.
“She learnt a few things from her boss, didn’t she?” I ask as soon as we’re out of earshot.
“That might help my memory!” Coral imitates, and the two of us laugh as we walk back towards home. Pumpkin bunting hangs from the street lights, freshly hung, as if I’m not the only one wanting to get the focus back on the holiday season.
“You think she’s a potential?”
“Killer?” I ask. “I don’t know. She’s wily, I’ll give her that.”
“And she has motive, if she’s expecting to be named in the Will.”
“Hmm.” I say. “I don’t know if she could know him as well as she must have and still trust him about that.”
“She pushed him into the meeting with the lawyer. Accomplices, maybe?”
“It’s a stretch. There’s nothing to suggest they have any history.”
“We need to track him down next, find out what that meeting was about.”
“He won’t speak to the press. Isn’t all of that privileged?”
“So maybe we pretend to be investigators for that one? We’ll decide when we find him.” Coral says as a young boy runs past, muddy-kneed, trailed by an exhausted looking father.
“Hey, Coral. You were really good in there, you know.” I say. “I was really impressed, watching your interview style. You’re talented. You shouldn’t give it up.”
She smiles, uncomfortably. “I dunno. There’s no options in Waterfell Tweed now, it’s all national work, freelance gigs.”
“So do that. It’s your life.” I encourage, thinking back to being her age myself. The thirties are so tough. At that age, I felt like all my mistakes had been made, and all my opportunities had been had too. It’s only now when I look back that I realise just how young I still was.
7
Sage
“Don’t shut me out.” I say, cornering Connie as she makes herself a fresh glass of water from the fridge tap.
“Huh? It’s nice to see you too!” she says, narrowing her eyes at me. She’s been back from her little excursion with Coral for an hour, and the two of them have only just stopped talking about it.
“It’s not right.” I say. “You can’t wade in and take over, you can’t push me out. Not with this. Not with them.”
“Woah, hold on Sage.” she objects. “What’s going on here?”
“I just told you!” I say, my voice rising.
“This is because I went with Coral to interview the secretary woman?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay.” she says, dragging the word out as if talking to a small child. I’m done with her patronising me.
“You need to talk to me like a grown adult.” I implore.
“We were bonding!” I say, the words surprising me. That wasn’t what I meant to say. I feel the heat of tears sting at my eyes. Yeah, I can’t cry any more, but I feel emotions, and the build up of what should be tears - just without the release that the tears themselves would bring. It’s a pretty sucky side-effect of being dead.
“I’m not stopping you bonding.”
“But we don’t have long together. I’ve waited so long for this time. You can’t take it from me.”
“Is that what’s going on here? You think I’m trying to wade in?”
I nod through what should be tears.
“Oh, Sage.” she soothes, placing her water glass on the countertop, in between two small witch statues. “Look, those girls didn’t travel all this way for me, okay? I’ve been here years and they’ve never visited. They’re here for you. Now, sure, I want to get to know my nieces, but I know you're the main attraction. Everyone knows that.”
“What do you mean, everyone knows that?” I sniff.
“Well, it’s the reason Patton’s keeping his distance.”
I groan. “Ugh, I need to invite him over.”
“Only if you want to.” Connie says, going all women’s lib.
“I do want to. I guess I have been a bit possessive of them, of my time with them. I just can’t really believe they're here, you know?”
She nods. “I know. But trust me, I’m looking out for everyone’s interests. I’m not trying to interfere with you getting to know each other.”
“I know that deep down.” I admit. “Geeze, I’m an emotional wreck. What’s happened to me?”
“You’ve remembered that you’re a mum.” she says with a shrug. “I think for a long time it was easier for you to block that out, and that made a part of you a bit harder, a bit tougher. But those feelings are still in there, Sage, and now you’re back being mum, they’re coming to the surface.”
“You should be a psychologist.” I say with a wry smile.
“All part of the service.” Connie jokes, lightening the mood.
“So what happens now?” I ask.
“We track down the lawyer guy, Sirius Thoms.” Connie says.
“I can’t see how we’ll find the lady friends.’” I admit.
“Not without breaking in somewhere and accessing his phone records or something. Which we’re not going to do.” Connie says, stern.
“I didn't say anything.” I say. “I’ve realised it was pretty stupid to let the girls go into that office.”
“It really was, but thankfully you didn’t get caught. But from now on, we do everything above board. And a different girl every week, that’s got to be some kind of escort service, surely?”
I shrug. “I can’t imagine a man like Bruce Skipton had women naturally throwing themselves at him on a weekly basis.”
“His five wives might say otherwise.”
I shake my head. “Five wives. That’s crazy. There comes a point where you surely have to just accept you’re not cut out for marriage.”
**
“Hey, mum.” Coral says as I float into the living room late that evening. Sandy retired to bed an hour ago, and Connie even earlier than that, although I could hear her TV playing out so I guess she was giving us space.
“Oh, hey princess. I didn’t know you were still up.” I say. I’ve been for a walk around the block to clear my head, and the house is in almost darkness, Coral’s face illuminated by the soft tones of a single lamp. “What are you up to?”
“Just thinking.” she says, but I can tell from her expression that something’s wrong.
“About?”
“Really deep stuff.” she admits with a laugh. “Night time always brings out the big questions.”
“Work?”
“Not really. Everyone’s pushing me towards going back to journalism and I might, but you know when I die, I don’t think I’d look back and regret working in Sandy’s cafe.”
“What would you regret?” I ask, gently lowering myself into the seat across from her.
“Not finding love.” she admits, picking at her thumbnail as she speaks. “Does that sound silly?”
“Not at all. Love makes the world go around.” I say, although in reality I’d list several things as having been more important to me in my life than love. Sure, I liked the attention from boys, and the drama around making up and breaking up, but the day to day mundanity of a settled, loving marriage… not really for me, to be honest. Maybe I have that in common with Bruce Skipton. Ugh, what a thought.
“I do want to find someone.” Coral says. “When I was out with Kim the other night, it hit me. It’s been so long since I sat with a man I really like and talked about things that actually matter, you know?”
I nod slowly. “I get that. There’s nothing wrong with wanting that.”
“I’ve never found it, though.” she admits. “I’ve never had a long relationship. It feels like I’m just not cut out to be with someone.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.”
“I really felt at ease with Kim.” she says. “It felt nice.”
“Are you seeing him again?” I ask, cautiously.
She bursts into a grin. “I think so.”
“Did you, erm, talk about, like, what was happening between the two of you?”
“I just like his company.” she says.
“Because honey, I don’t know how to break this to you.” I say, taking a gulp. “But Kim’s gay.”
She looks at me, her eyes watering, and lets out a snort of breath, then gazes upwards to try and hold back the tears. “This is so typical. He gave absolutely zero sign that he wanted anything more than a friendship. It’s me, again, reading too much into things. Why do I always do this?”
“Honey, he’s a very handsome man. He gave you attention. He led you to believe you’d see each other again. It’s not surprising you’d get the wrong idea.” I say, grappling with the simple truth, which is that she has too much of me in her. I’ve created a monster, and that monster is lonely.
“As if a rock God would be interested in me, anyway.” she says. “Well, on to the next. Any nice single men around town?”
“Do you fancy a long distance relationship?” I ask, because I can't ask the question I want to. Would you stay? Would you move here? Trust me, if she would, I’d find her any man she wanted. I’d force Kim Kane to be interested in her, or put on a good show that he was. Anything to keep her close and hope that Sandy would follow.
Coral lets out a yawn. “I need to stop my brain thinking this kind of stuff.”
I fix a smile on my face, trying not to think about why she avoided my question. Maybe setting her up with a nice man is a good plan, on the off chance that she decides to stay here. Maybe I could talk Ellie Bean into selling Screamin’ Beans, then Sandy would be able to stay and run that business.
Oh yeah, me and Coral, we both have the late night thinking sickness.
**
Igor spooks me the hell out, by the way.
I know I should probably be into Hallowe’en and all things spooky, but Connie went a step too far with that dude if you ask me. The way he jerks around, literally loses his head, and shows off his steaming brains, it’s gross.
I side-eye him as I follow Coral to the staircase and watch her go up.
“You’re not coming?” she asks.
“I’ll be up soon.” I say, but once I’m confident that she’s tucked up in bed, I sneak past Igor and out of the front door.
The Baker House is lights on, music playing, as normal. The ghosts don’t seem to care about the curse, but why would they, they’ve already died.
I let myself in and see Atticus and Patton sitting on the old settee, deep in conversation. The place is the only house in town that shows no signs of being dressed for Hallowe’en, although the fact that it’s a genuine haunted house means it’s probably won th
e competition in any event.
“Well if it isn’t the mother hen.” Atticus calls out, with a whiskery smile. “How’s it going, doll?”
“So good.” I gush. “Not too happy about this murder, though.”
Patton offers me a weak smile, and Atticus notes the tension and makes up an excuse of doing an evening patrol of the neighbourhood.
“Well, that was awkward.” I say as I plop down on the settee next to Patton.
“Oh, that?” he asks. “He really is doing a patrol. He’s been doing it since Vera cast the spell.”
“What exactly is he patrolling for?”
“I haven’t asked. You know what he’s like, needs to feel like he’s doing something.”
“True.” I say, and we fall into a stilted silence.
“It’s nice to see you.” Patton says after a few minutes have passed. “I’ve been giving you space.”
“I know. I appreciate it. There’s a lot going on.”
“Yeah.” he says. He’s a gentleman. He won’t ask again.
“I’d like you to meet them.” I say, and he bursts into a wide smile.
“Really? I don’t want to pressure you. I just want you to know that I want it, if you do. If they do.”
“Well, I haven’t mentioned it to them, but they’ve got their heads around things pretty well, so I think they’d be okay.”
“You haven’t told them about me?” he asks, wounded.
“Erm.” I say, going back in my mind, raking through our conversations. Have I mentioned him? I don’t think so. “I’ve more been catching up with their lives. There’s so much I’ve missed.”
“Of course.” he says, but the tension remains.
“Look, why don’t you come over for breakfast in the morning?”
“Really?” he asks.
“Well, yeah. You know what, though Patton?” I say, Coral’s heartache giving me courage. “I don’t know how to introduce you. I mean, what’s going on here, are we friends, or more? And, I’ve never been the kind of woman to ask these questions or get caught up in the details, but if I’m introducing you to my daughters… I mean, that’s a big deal to me.”
