by Sherri Bryan
“Well, let’s see … there was a white substance under one of her nails, which the lab is still processing, and we’ve identified a number of potential suspects. Of course, the motive for all of them is the same.”
“And does anyone stand out as the killer?” Charlotte asked innocently.
Nathan laughed. “Will you stop asking me things you know I can’t tell you? I’ve already said that you’ll be the first to know when we’re able to make details public, but until then, you’ll just have to wait.“
“Your table is ready. Come this way please.” An olive-skinned waiter with sleepy-looking eyes and the longest lashes Charlotte had ever seen led them to a table in the bay window. He handed them a plate of complimentary antipasto and a menu each, before smiling lazily and disappearing to get their drinks.
“You know, I might have some information that could be useful,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t think of it until earlier, which is why I didn’t say anything before.”
“Oh, yes? And what’s that?” asked Nathan, tucking into the antipasto.
The waiter returned with the drinks and took their food orders.
“Um, yes, I’ll have the aubergine with spinach and parmesan crust, please,” said Charlotte.
“And I’d like the baked ricotta and leek ravioli with a mushroom sauce, please.” Nathan snapped his menu shut and speared another marinated artichoke heart from the plate of antipasto. “So, you were saying … oh, God! Did you want any of this, by the way?” he asked sheepishly, suddenly realizing that there was only a slice of roasted pepper and a few shavings of pecorino cheese left on the plate.
Charlotte laughed. “No, you finish it. So, as I was saying … Pip and I were on our way back from a walk yesterday morning when we passed Miranda, who I assume was on her way to buy the newspaper that was found next to her body.” The memory gave her shivers. “Anyway, we were almost home when Pippin went chasing after a cat, and then ran all the way back to Tom’s place to dig up a bone he’d left behind. I didn’t want to be seen by anyone in the house, so I crawled into the front garden to get him, and that’s when I heard them talking.”
The look of incredulity on Nathan’s face needed no words.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Charlotte was indignant. “I wasn’t eavesdropping deliberately. I just happened to be there and overheard them.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned across the table. “Charlotte, you do appreciate that the whole family are suspects, don’t you? If one of them is the killer, and if they caught you snooping about, I dread to think what they might do. For goodness sake, will you please try not to get involved.” He sighed heavily as he sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the tabletop.
“I wasn’t trying to get involved,” said Charlotte, huffily. “I told you, I was just there by accident.”
Nathan shook his head and gave her a look that said he only half-believed her. “Go on,” he said.
“Well, Ellis Potts and the other guy – his brother-in-law – were arguing about whether Miranda should keep the ticket for safekeeping when it was found. The brother-in-law – I think his name is Greg – wasn’t at all happy about it, and told Ellis so. Of course, Ellis was sticking up for Miranda, but he sounded really cheesed off with his sister, Victoria.”
“And why was that?” asked Nathan.
“Because she didn’t want Miranda to look after the ticket, either.”
Nathan rubbed his chin as he considered what Charlotte had told him. “Did the brother-in-law and Ellis’s sister say why they were so against Miranda looking after the ticket?”
The sleepy-eyed waiter returned with their food. “For the lovely lady, the aubergine and for the gentleman, the ravioli.” He placed the plates in front of them with a flourish and disappeared again.
“So, as I was saying, did they say why they didn’t want Miranda to look after the ticket?” As Nathan repeated his question, a pepper mill of gargantuan proportions was thrust over his shoulder.
“Signore would like some pepper?” The waiter poised expectantly, waiting for instructions.
“Er, yes, a little, thank you.” The waiter gave the mill a couple of twists before moving over to Charlotte.
“And for the pretty lady?”
“Yes, please, over everything,” said Charlotte, giggling at Nathan’s irritation.
The waiter energetically twisted the top of the mill, liberally scattering Charlotte’s food with aromatic black flecks. “Is enough, Signorina?”
“Yes, thank you, that’s perfect.” She smiled up at him and he retreated, bowing slightly as he bid them buon apetito, casting Charlotte an appreciative glance from beneath his luxuriously long lashes
“Anyway, for the third time …” said Nathan, cutting into the top of his baked ravioli, a cloud of steam billowing out from its molten centre, “did they happen to say why they were so against Miranda looking after the ticket?”
“Actually, they did. Well, Greg did. He said he didn’t think she was trustworthy. Something to do with her claiming incapacity benefit for a non-existent back injury.” Charlotte blew on a forkful of cheesy eggplant and spinach.
“And, just to recap – at that time, the ticket hadn’t been found?” Nathan asked, making mental notes.
Charlotte shook her head. “Didn’t sound like it. Just before I left, Ellis’s wife – Rachel, I think her name is – joined in the conversation. She said, ‘The ticket hasn’t even been found yet. Why are you arguing over who takes care of it?, or something like that.”
“Hmm, that’s interesting,” said Nathan, draining his glass of sparkling mineral water. “Anything else?”
Charlotte munched on a piece of garlic bread. “Um, no, I think that was all. Oh, except for one thing. At the time of Miranda’s murder, it appears that all the family were at the cottage. But they might not have been.”
Nathan scratched his head. “You’re talking in riddles,” he said.
“The short cut. If you go out the back door of the cottage, there’s a direct path to the town centre. It cuts about ten minutes off your journey. More, if you run. The only reason I even thought about it was because after I’d collected Pippin, I cycled into town and saw Bella Potts. She’d been at the house when I arrived, so I couldn’t figure out how she got there before I did. Then I remembered the short cut.”
“So, what you’re saying is that any one of the family could have left the cottage after Miranda on the morning she was killed, taken the short cut and got into town before her, lain in wait, done the deed and then got back to the cottage before anyone realised they were gone?” said Nathan.
“Exactly!” said Charlotte.
They sat in companionable silence, enjoying their food. A minute or two passed before Charlotte asked, “So, is it useful information?”
When Nathan didn’t reply immediately, Charlotte knew he was choosing his words carefully. Eventually, he said, “Yes, it is useful, but I don’t want you to think that I need, or want, you to go running around St. Eves, playing detective. That’s my job. I know how much you want the killer to be found - and so do I - but we’ll find him, or her for that matter. And when I say ‘we’, I mean me and the St. Eves police department - not me and you. Okay?”
Charlotte nodded as she mopped tomato sauce from the bottom of her dish with garlic bread. “Yes, Chief.” She saluted with her free hand.
“You like dessert?” The waiter was back again, clearing their plates. “We have beautiful Tiramisu – is to die for.” He brought the tips of his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “And also, we have very nice Panna Cotta with poached rhubarb and local honey. Is very good.”
“Ooh, I’ll have the Panna Cotta, please,” said Charlotte.
“And I’ll just have a coffee - another double espresso, please,” said Nathan, and waited for the waiter to disappear again.
“Well, I hate to think that whoever did this is still out there, stalking the streets of St. Eves.” Charlotte shuddered. “
I really hope you find the killer soon.”
“Don’t worry, we will,” said Nathan, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand. “Anyway, let’s change the subject. Tell me what you’ve been up to since I saw you on Thursday – apart from skulking around the neighbourhood on your hands and knees, that is. How are you and Pippin getting along?”
Immediately, Charlotte’s frown was replaced by a smile that reached from ear to ear. “Oh, Nathan, he’s sooo adorable! I’m afraid you might have to take the couch next time you come round, though … looks like I’ve found myself a new sleeping partner, and he’s become very partial to your side of the bed.”
“Yeah, okay. Like that’s gonna’ happen.” Nathan chuckled. “Don’t you worry about Pippin. I’ll remind him where his bed is. The trouble with you is that you’re too soft. That little dog will have you running around in circles before long if you let him. You’re supposed to be the pack leader, not him. Just set a few boundaries and he’ll get it eventually.”
“Wow, if I’d known I was having dinner with the Dog Whisperer tonight, I’d have sold tickets,” said Charlotte, laughing as she dodged the flick from Nathan’s serviette.
“Ha ha, very funny,” he said. “So, anything else exciting happened?”
Charlotte shook her head and then remembered Ryan and Bella’s visit to the café the day before. She told Nathan about it, remarking on how strange she thought it was that a young man of Ryan’s age would need so much money, and so quickly.
“Hmm, it is strange, but it’s not a crime to need money. There could be hundreds of legitimate reasons for needing to get your hands on a large sum of money urgently. However, if he’s intending to do something illegal with it once he’s got it, then that’s a different matter altogether.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll check him out sooner rather than later – just in case.”
The waiter returned with Charlotte’s dessert and Nathan’s coffee, which was served on an extra large saucer with three beautifully-handmade chocolates on the side.
Nathan looked at his watch. “Well, I need to get going after I’ve finished this – I’ll run you home and then I’ll go straight back to the station. I’ll come round later, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is,” said Charlotte as her spoon cut through her silky Panna Cotta like a hot knife through butter. “You’ll have to let yourself in if I’m already asleep, though - and just put Pippin back in his bed if he’s in the way.”
She slipped the creamy dessert into her mouth, letting it melt against her tongue, coating her taste buds with its heady vanilla sweetness. “Mmmm, this is sooo delicious … it’s better than …. oh, my God!” Her spoon clattered to the table as she abruptly jerked upright in her chair, her eyes wide and her mouth open.
“What’s the matter? Charlotte, what is it?” Nathan was out of his seat and round to Charlotte’s side of the table in a split second.
“I’ve just remembered. It was the Panna Cotta that reminded me. You said that Miranda had something white under her fingernails … well, there’s a long scratch down the side of Ryan’s nose. I saw it yesterday. He’d tried to cover it with that white makeup he always wears, but you can still see it clearly. It was weeping, too, like it had happened recently. Oh, my gosh, I completely forgot about it until just now. D’you think it’s relevant.”
Nathan ran his fingers through his hair. “Do I think it’s relevant?” He bent down and held her face in his hands. “Charlotte, this is the best lead we’ve had so far! You’re a little marvel!” He kissed her, full on the lips, and signalled to the waiter to bring the bill. “And can we have the Panna Cotta to takeaway, please?”
As they left the restaurant, Nathan called PC Farrell. “Yep, that’s the guy. He’s usually hanging around with his friends in the town centre, but if we can’t find him, we’ll have to pay Bella Potts a visit. I’m sure she’ll know where he is.”
As he pulled up outside Charlotte’s house, he was buzzing. ”I’ll see you later, but in the meantime, I’m off to bring in our prime suspect.” He leaned over and kissed her goodbye. “Keep your fingers crossed that the next time I see you, Miranda Potts’ killer will be under lock and key.”
Oh, I do hope so, thought Charlotte as she watched Nathan’s brake lights disappear around the corner.
As she unlocked her front door, she didn’t see the figure watching her from the end of the road.
Chapter 6
“Can you tell me how you got that scratch on your nose, Ryan?”
Nathan and PC Farrell had picked up Ryan Benson half an hour before and were now interviewing him at St. Eves police station. A solicitor sat beside him.
“No comment,” said Ryan, looking at the ceiling.
“Can you tell me where you were on the morning of Friday, April 19th, between approximately 7.00 am and 7.30 am?”
“No comment.”
“Would you be prepared to provide a DNA sample of your own free will? I must tell you that if you cooperate with us, it will be to your benefit in the long run.”
“No comment, but I’d like to talk to my solicitor alone, please.”
Nathan paused the recording. “We’ll be next door. Let us know when you’re ready to resume the interview,” he said to Ryan’s solicitor.
Fifteen minutes later, the solicitor turned round in his chair and gave a thumbs-up to Nathan, who had been standing on the other side of the two-way mirror the whole time, watching Ryan’s body language.
“Interview with Ryan Benson resumed at 9.35 pm – in attendance, Chief Inspector Nathan Costello, PC Fiona Farrell, Mr James Lord, defence solicitor, and the suspect, Mr Ryan Benson. So, Ryan. Do you have anything to tell me?”
Ryan looked at his solicitor, who gave a brief nod. He looked at the ceiling again for a while, took a deep breath and started talking.
“First of all, I’m okay about giving you a DNA sample, but can we do it now? I don’t want to come back here again unless I absolutely have to. This place gives me the creeps.”
PC Farrell stood up. “I’ll go and get the equipment – be right back.”
Ryan continued. “Second of all, I got this scratch from Miranda Potts. I saw her the morning she was killed, but it wasn’t me who killed her. She’s my girlfriend’s aunt, so I know her, but we don’t - didn’t - get on. She didn’t like me at all. Mind you, she didn’t like many people. So, anyway, I’d spent the night at the cottage with Bella.”
His eyes widened and he held out both hands in front of him. “Nothing happened, though. I slept on the floor. We’d both drunk too much the night before and I missed the last bus home. I would usually need to get back to look after my dad - he’s disabled - but his cousin was visiting, so I didn’t have to get home. Anyway, I went back with Bella and left early the next morning. I sneaked out the back door, so no one would see me, and took the short cut into town.
“Miranda had left just before me. She was going to buy a newspaper and I ran into her about five minutes later. I was on my way to the supermarket to see if they had any work.” He paused and took a drink of water with a slightly shaky hand.
“When I saw Miranda, I told her that if she was looking for worthy causes to donate to when she claimed the lottery money, to put my name at the top of her list. I was only kidding, though! I knew there was no way she would ever give me any money, but man, she went crazy!
“She called me all the names under the sun and lashed out like a wild woman. That’s how I got this.” He rubbed his nose, the scratch still red and sore-looking, and shrugged. “And that’s what happened. After she attacked me, I got away from her as fast as I could. But I didn’t kill her.” He drank the rest of the water in the glass and poured himself another with an even shakier hand.
PC Farrell returned and Nathan announced her arrival for the benefit of the tape. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and took a large cotton swab from a sealed pack. “Open your mouth, please.” She rubbed the swab over the inside of Ryan’s cheeks, before se
aling it in a sterile plastic cylinder. “That’s it, all done,” she said.
Nathan leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, and rested his chin on his clasped hands. “So, to continue. Why do you need £20,000? That’s rather a large sum of money.”
“Who told you that?” Ryan was immediately on the defensive, and it pleased Nathan greatly that his question had obviously touched a nerve.
“Just a moment. Is that relevant to the matter in hand?” asked Ryan’s solicitor. “Mr Benson has confirmed where he was between the times you stated, he’s told you how he got the scratch on his face and he’s willingly given you a DNA sample. He has co-operated with you fully, and I will be strongly advising him to say nothing further at this time.”
“If I tell you about the money, will it get me out of here?” Ryan looked pointedly at Nathan, waiting for his answer.
“It might,” replied Nathan. “But then again, it might not.” Ryan glared at him, but Nathan’s non-committal expression was giving nothing away.
Ryan turned to his solicitor. “Look, you don’t understand. I just want to go home – I need to go home. I’ll tell them whatever they want to know.”
“I would request five minutes alone with Mr Benson,” the solicitor said, irritated that Ryan was disregarding his advice.
Once again, Nathan paused the interview and went into the adjoining room with PC Farrell.
“What do you think, Chief?” asked the young officer.
“Well, let’s just say that I’m not as confident now that we’ve got our killer as I was half an hour ago.”
“Me neither, Chief,” said PC Farrell. “He looks pretty scary, but he doesn’t strike me as a cold-blooded murderer. I’m interested to find out what he needs £20,000 for, though.”
The solicitor turned and gave Nathan the thumbs-up again. Back into the interview room they went and for the second time, Nathan resumed his questioning.
