Let Sleeping Murder Lie: A cozy mystery

by Carmen Radtke

  The cabin lay deserted. Eve caught a glimpse of feathers in the tree hollow, but the only sounds were her breathing and a slight rustle of leaves in the undergrowth.

  She sneaked around the cabin and tried the door. It was locked. Eve felt under the eaves for a key. Nothing. She lifted rocks. One was suspiciously rubbery. She probed it with her fingers and found an opening with a key inside.

  As she slipped inside the cabin, she kept an eye on the windows, to watch for movement. Her mouth went dry. This couldn’t be fear, she told herself. There was nothing to be afraid of. If Ben discovered her snooping, she’d admit to having been curious. That would be embarrassing, but nothing else.

  The cabin was fully furnished. Eve remembered a farm assistant used to live here. Ben would have checked all the obvious places. Otherwise the condoms and antihistamines would have stayed undiscovered.

  The bed had been stripped of its mattress. Eve switched her small torch on and shone the light through the bed slats. There was something in a corner. She groped for the object. The dust made her sneeze as she lifted out her find. A piece of a wrapper, too small to tell where it came from. Not that it mattered. It probably had been dropped years ago and overlooked during the clean-up. The dust under the bed spoke of neglect, whereas the film on the floor was thin enough to make her hope her footprints would go unnoticed.

  She waved her torch around, for good measure. But there was nothing else to see.

  Outside, Eve patted down her clothes and crept towards the path.

  “Hi there.” Ben’s voice made her almost jump out of her skin.

  “I didn’t expect to see you today,” she said.

  “I got that impression. Birdwatching?”

  “That was the plan. Routines are hard to develop, so I need to keep at it. And you?”

  “I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you and Hayley. For the clean-out.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  “And invite you out as a sign of my appreciation.”

  “Oh.” A few days ago, she’d have leapt at the idea of spending another private evening with him. Now, everything was in doubt. “No written RSVP?” she asked, hoping her flippancy masked her real emotions.

  “Do you have any idea when Hayley’s free?” Ben asked in return.

  A date for three; great. On the other hand, there was safety in numbers. She wanted to trust him again, but Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem stopped her. “I’ll ask her,” she said.

  “Would you like to see the fish pond I’ve been stocking?”

  Ophelia’s image formed in her mind. Long, blonde hair drifting among the water lilies. She suppressed a groan. Now she was getting melodramatic on top of everything else. Get a grip, woman.

  To Eve’s relief, they took another, longer way, away from the cabin and past fields with cherry and apple trees. Their blossoms perfumed the air. “Are these all yours?”

  “We leased one half and sold the other when my father had to give up. I’m not much of an agricultural man.”

  “What’s going to happen? Long-term, I mean?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  The garden behind the house was fenced off, with a wrought-iron gate big enough to let a car through. The killer could easily have taken this path, Eve thought. Unless he had no need for a stealthy approach because he lived here.

  A garden bench stood next to an irregular pond with the water lilies she’d imagined. Fish darted back and forth, causing the silvery water to ripple. A large oak cast its shadow over John’s wheelchair. He snored gently.

  Chris came out of the house. He gave Eve an appreciative look that managed to be both flattering and inoffensive. She smiled at him. Objectively speaking, he was the handsomer of the two men, and he came without the baggage. If she’d met him first, she might have been interested to get to know him better. As it was, she enjoyed looking at his body, in a detached way. What a pity he didn’t set her pulse racing.

  John stirred.

  “We found some letters,” Eve said, low enough for only Ben to hear. “With a Northern Ireland sender. I can bring them.”

  “No. Do me a favour and burn them.” He held her gaze for an infinitesimal moment, and butterflies stirred in her tummy. The siren call of the bad boy had been pretty hard to resist in her youth, and here it was again. Even if the only bad boy thing about Ben was his reputation. She must have been crazy to doubt him.

  Chris studiously ignored them, in a clumsy attempt at giving them privacy.

  “I’d better get back to my desk,” Eve said.

  “I’ll walk with you.” They took the shorter path, leading up to the cabin. Eve’s heart beat harder. Had she put the fake rock in its proper spot? What if Ben looked into the window and saw her footprints in the dust?

  “I can take it from here,” she said as casually as she could manage, one hundred metres from the cabin. “I don’t want to startle the owl.”

  His cheek brushed against hers as she gave him a friendly hug. Her breath grew irregular.

  “Does Hayley have your number?” Eve asked.

  He shook his head. “I’ll text you.”

  Eve held the letters into a candle flame, one by one. She dropped the burning paper into a galvanised bucket. All, except for one. She wished she’d never found it. Now it had become impossible to ignore the evidence of her own eyes as long as she didn’t know for sure Ben hadn’t written it.

  Chapter 14

  The main room of the “Green Dragon” lay in serene peace. Three of the old boys who to Eve seemed interchangeable with their gummy grins, sinewy hands and inevitable pints of ale hovered at one end of the bar. A fortyish woman with a too tight blouse unbuttoned too wide and a nervous look on her face polished glasses. Hayley sat at the other end, observing them. She raised two fingers at the woman and said, “Lemonade for my friend and me.”

  They sat down in Eve’s usual spot. “I’d take you upstairs, but I need to keep an eye on Grace,” Hayley said. “She was crushed to not snag the kitchen job, so I offered her this instead. She even bought a bar maid’s outfit.” She glanced down at her own white shirt and black tailored pants. “Or what she thinks of as one. I can’t bring myself to tell her to do up another button.”

  “Your customers appear to enjoy it.”

  “As they should. It’s the most flesh they’ll get to see without paying.” Hayley gave Grace an encouraging thumbs up as her new bar maid poured a shot of rum. “Anyway, I’ve discovered who wrote the police report in question.”

  “Can I meet him?”

  “It’s a her, and no, you can’t. She’s only talking to me because we go way back. She used to date the brother of my friend.”

  “At least it’s something,” Eve said, swallowing her disappointment. She’d envisaged herself in full Miss Marple mode, except younger and irresistible to the cop who’d be bowled over by her personality and the uncanny way in which she solved a cold case. Or perhaps she wanted to interrogate the police officer because she needed to quiet that niggling doubt in her head once and for all.

  There was after all a reason the case had grown stale. Apart from Ben, who could have wanted Donna dead?

  “It’s a lot more than something, thank you very much.” Hayley caught Grace’s intimidated glance as three more regulars planted their bottoms on their bar stools, ready for a few sociable hours. “Give me a list with your questions and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Eve agonised half the night over her list. The most important clue still was, how did the killer gain access? Had Donna opened the door, or were there any signs of a break-in?

  If she opened the door herself, she could have expected that person. Fingerprints on the door handle should show who opened it last. If the crime scene staff had secured the prints.

  Were there any muddy or wet footprints on the floor? It had rained hard on the day in question. But Ben might have obliterated every other print as he stumbled upon the scene.

  Eve counted her
self lucky the newspapers had not printed any pictures of the body. She tried hard not to imagine Ben finding his wife, her blonde hair turned crimson, and a bloodied brick next to her.

  Who drugged John and where did the sleeping-pills come from? She needed to know if the police had pinpointed the time John took those pills, and in what form they’d been administered. If Donna had expected someone, she didn’t want her father-in-law to see, it would have made sense for her to ensure her privacy and drug the old man. But then Ben was supposed to come home a lot sooner.

  Eve rubbed her sore eyes. Nothing made sense.

  Eve dropped off her short questionnaire with Hayley the next morning. She’d expected to find her in her apartment, but Hayley obviously liked an early start. She’d spotted Eve through the window as she watered the potted plant on the windowsill.

  “I’ll meet my source later,” Hayley said as she scanned the sheet of paper. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Great. And Ben wants to take us both out for dinner one day.”

  Hayley mulled this over. “I need to get Grace trained before I can leave her and Dom to fend for themselves.”

  Eve nodded. “I’m sure Ben will understand.”

  “Why don’t you cook for us?” Hayley gave her an innocent look. “It’s much easier to chat in private, and I could pop back here if I’m needed.”

  This came unexpected. Did Eve want to have Ben visit her cottage? But she had nobody but herself to blame. If she hadn’t snooped in the private correspondence of someone she’d never met, she’d feel unwavering support for Ben Dryden.

  “Good idea,” she said, before the pause dragged on too long. “Just say when.”

  “Any day except for the weekend suits me. My nan will be delighted to supervise the staff.”

  Ben replied to Eve’s text before she had a chance to regret the invitation. He’d be free the day after tomorrow.

  To distract herself, Eve threw herself into her work. When her phone rang, she cursed the interruption. “Hello?”

  “Eve, honey?” Eve almost dropped her phone. Dulcet tones from Crystal were nothing out of the ordinary. Heartfelt sweetness was.

  “Hi, Crystal, how are you?”

  “That necklace you sent me, well I don’t hardly know what to say.” Crystal sounded close to tears.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Like it! Oh, honey. Your dad insisted on taking me out to dinner to show it off. Would you like to talk to him? Now, where is that man?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got to go anyway, but thanks for calling.”

  “You won’t forget about Christmas, will you? Or Thanksgiving. Please. We haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “I won’t. Bye, Crystal.” Eve ended the call with a sensation of light-headedness. Possibly she had done the poor woman an injustice. Failing to fulfil Eve’s expectations of the kind of woman who could successfully take her mother’s place did not automatically make her a bad person. If Eve’s dad was happy, what more could she ask for? Especially when she secretly conceded that, objectively speaking, he might not be the greatest catch himself.

  Her alarm pinged. She’d set it, so she prevented too much eye-strain from staring at the screen. Painful experience taught her that lesson.

  If Crystal loved the Whitby jet cameo so much, it would be worth asking Kim to keep an eye out for matching pieces.

  Eve needed a break anyway. She examined her sparse bar, which consisted of a bottle of medicinal brandy, a bottle of Merlot and a six-pack of beer she’d bought on a whim a week ago. She’d justified it with the thought that Hayley, or another visitor, might like it. Because Eve definitely didn’t.

  She rang the bell to Kim’s flat.

  “Hello?” Kim’s voice echoed through the loudspeaker. Eve gave a start.

  “It’s me. Eve. You said to come by.”

  The door catch released. Eve clutched the wine bottle and made her way up to the landing where Kim waited. Behind her, a small dog sat back on his haunches and watched Eve.

  Eve held up the wine. “I’ve come to thank you.”

  They settled in the living room. Kim produced two wine glasses. The dog sighed as if he felt excluded.

  “Do you mind Laika’s company?” Kim asked as she served the drinks.

  “If he doesn’t object to me, how could I?”

  “What do we celebrate?”

  “A family reconciliation. Of sorts.”

  Kim lifted her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “Me too. I was wondering if you have any more of that kind of jewellery. Crystal adores it.”

  For a moment Eve imagined she saw pain flicker in Kim’s eyes.

  Her new friend squatted and fondled the dog’s ears. “I’ve got a few boxes with trinkets in my bedroom. I don’t like to leave them in the stockroom until I’m sure they’re not worth a fortune.”

  “Have you ever had any break-ins?”

  “Only petty theft, but at least up here I’ve got a video camera connected to the entrance area.”

  “I always think I should upgrade my security, as a single woman, but then I tend to forget,” Eve admitted.

  “I’d do it. Now. You may feel safe, but believe me, you’re not.” The pain in Kim’s voice was raw. It made Eve feel horribly insensitive, although her remark had not been planned as a way to bring up Donna. If only she’d met Kim without a hidden agenda. They could have been real friends. As things stood, Eve had too much to hide to properly engage. She wished she could come clean. Why shouldn’t she? Simply mention you are acquainted with Ben Dryden, her inner voice said. Bring it up naturally. See what happens.

  No. The timing was wrong.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Kim twisted the glass in her hand. The wine swirled around and ran down the sides in blood-red rivulets.

  “When I grew up and my mother told me of her childhood or she gave me all these old books, England seemed so bucolic and peaceful,” Eve said.

  “Are you disappointed?” Kim asked.

  “Strangely enough, no. It helps to be free to come and go.”

  Laika gave a sharp woof. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Kim said. “His dinner is overdue. If you would like to have a browse in the boxes, be my guest.”

  Eve marvelled at the breadth of donations. In between tacky costume jewellery made of rusting metal and plastic, she found a silver bracelet with jadeite inlays, and two pairs of dangling Whitby jet earrings. She set all three pieces aside.

  “Found anything?” Kim returned alone. Happy munching sounds from the kitchen betrayed Laika’s whereabouts.

  Eve showed her what she’d discovered.

  “I can price them up for you in a few days, if you can wait,” Kim said.

  “I’m not planning on leaving in the near future, so, yes, that would be fantastic.”

  “It must be scary to start over and over again. You must miss home.”

  “I miss a few places, and people. Mostly people.”

  “But not so much you’d stick around for them.”

  Eve forbade herself to think of names, when she said, “I might, if it’s the right kind of person. What about you? Are you here for good?”

  “I was going to travel the world, but things change. Luck changes, and this is as good a place for memories as any other. Besides, I’ve got Laika to consider.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up painful stuff.”

  “It’s okay. We weren’t public yet,” Kim said.

  But the mood was spoilt. Eve promised to return for the jewellery and drove home, with a bad aftertaste in her mouth.

  Chapter 15

  Hayley knocked loud enough on the door to wake Eve from a heavy sleep. She hurried to throw her trench-coat over her pyjamas, in case anyone else watched. She could imagine the rumours flying if the newcomer showed herself at nine o’clock in the morning still in her night clothes. The trench-coat might just cover enough for her to escape detection.

  “Breakfast.” Hay
ley put a bag with oven-warm bread rolls onto the table. “I’ll make coffee while you get dressed.”

  Eve splashed cold water on her face and ran a comb through her hair.

  Hayley’s coffee jolted her awake. She reached for her second caffeine-shot when a text arrived on her phone. She read it twice before it hit home. “Tonight. Ben says he’s free tonight.”

  “Suits me.” Hayley reached for a bread-roll and sniffed it while feeling the texture. “Let me know what you think.”

  Eve’s mind reeled. “Think of what?”

  “The food. These are Heather’s own recipe.” She broke off a piece and chewed it slowly.

  Eve took a bite. “It’s fine. But what do I do about tonight?”

  “Cook. Or reheat ready-meals. Whatever you prefer. Ben comes for our company, and since you aren’t interested in him beyond a purely platonic friendship, what does it matter if you’re not a domestic goddess?”

  “You’re right.” Eve took a deep breath. “I’m not used to entertaining, that’s all.”

  “Relax. I thought you’d grill me over my sleuthing, but we can discuss menus instead.”

  The questionnaire had momentarily fled Eve’s mind. She needed to focus.

  “And? What did your source say?” she asked.

  “First you need to promise to keep this secret. I’m not getting her in trouble,” Hayley said.

  “Fine. I swear it on my mother’s grave.”

  Hayley lowered her voice. “No signs of a break-in, and the top fingerprints on the door handle inside belonged to Ben. Donna apparently stayed at home, without a visitor. The killer must have had a key, unless the door stayed unlocked.”

  “Did Ben leave it like that when he left?”

  “He says no. Which was another point in his favour. He could easily have said yes, anybody could have entered the house.”

  “Your friend’s opinion, or the official police train of thought?” Please, let it be absolutely clear that he was framed. Stop these doubts in my head, Eve thought.