Brownies and Bloodshed (Peridale Cafe Cozy Mystery Book 19)

by Agatha Frost

  “I – I didn’t know,” Katie replied, her bottom lip wobbling. “I – I—”

  “That’s because you grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth!” Dot planted her hands on her hips. “Never had to lift a finger for yourself and now look at you! You’ve messed up Julia’s house, and now you’re trying to burn it down, too!”

  Katie’s eyes filled with tears. She rushed off, the guest bedroom door slamming behind her.

  “Thanks for that, Mum.” Brian sighed as he tried to settle Vinnie. “You of all people could try being a bit nicer now, considering what you’re going through.”

  Dot pursed her lips. “Well, it’s true.”

  Julia decided against trying to convince her gran otherwise. It seemed she had sprung back from her fragile state by doubling down on criticising other people. Knowing where she would be of best service, Julia slipped out of the kitchen and down to the hall to the guest bedroom. Instead of knocking softly on the door, she opened it.

  The Wellington-Souths had created the most chaos in the guest bedroom – a place Julia had avoided to evade giving herself a heart attack. The room, which had belonged to Jessie until earlier in the year, was moderately sized. Jessie had never been the tidiest person, proven by the state of her flat, but she had never come close to creating the current mess. Julia’s family was still living out of black bags and boxes, all of which were open; most of their fabric contents buried the floor. They had pushed all the furniture against one wall to give them space for Vinnie’s cot; a path led to it through the clothes.

  Katie was perched on the edge of the bed. She looked up from the pink t-shirt she was using to dab away her tears.

  “She’s right,” Katie said, forcing a laugh through the blubbering. “I don’t know how to fend for myself. I never realised how much stuff there was to do. It was always done for me. I’m useless. How have I got to forty without knowing you can’t put metal in a microwave?”

  “You’re not useless.” Julia sat on the bed and wiped away Katie’s mascara streaks with her thumb. “Let’s get out of here and go for a drink.”

  “But the microwave.”

  “They can sort it.” Julia winked. “You might have had a sheltered life, but my father didn’t. He’s just lazy.”

  “You can’t drink.”

  “But you can.” Julia stood and pulled Katie up with her. “And I think you need one. C’mon. I know a place.”

  Katie spent the ride applying an impressive amount of make-up. Every time Julia looked over, Katie had pulled another product from her large handbag to use on her cheeks or eyes. When Julia parked outside the River Lounge in Riverswick, Katie had transformed her face into the glamorous version Julia was accustomed to.

  “That was quite impressive,” Julia said, yanking up her handbrake. “I don’t think my hand is steady enough to do that kind of make-up at home, let alone in a car.”

  “I had years of practice back in my modelling days. You learn to do it quick and do it anywhere.” Katie dug in her bag and handed Julia a black tube. “Here. Put this on. Every woman should carry around a red lipstick. It makes anyone look like they’ve put some effort in.”

  While it wasn’t a rule Julia followed, she appreciated the offer. She wasn’t one for heavy make-up, although she had applied a quick coat of mascara and nude lipstick that morning, none of which remained on her lips. Using the pull-down visor mirror, she swiped the pigmented colour onto her lips. While she didn’t look anywhere near as done up as Katie, she had to admit the red lipstick did give the impression that she hadn’t just run out of the house after a busy day at work.

  “How do you know about this place?” Katie called as they walked into the loud, packed-out bar.

  “I don’t really,” she called back as they squeezed through the crowd. “I drove past the other day when I was on my way to Percy’s nephew’s boxing studio. I thought it would be better to get away from the familiar faces.”

  And they had. Julia didn’t recognise a single person. While there were a few people in their forties and older, Julia felt at least a decade older than the average age in the room. After struggling for almost ten minutes to get served at the bar, they squeezed back through the crowd, drinks in hand, and found a slightly quieter row of booths. They shimmied round the only empty booth, which would have been more suited to a party of ten.

  “How’s your drink?” Katie asked after taking a deep sip of her piña colada.

  “It’s nice,” Julia said after taking a sip of her virgin brownie mocktail. “It’s sort of like a fancy chocolate milkshake. Listen, what Dot said is—”

  “I heard what you’ve been doing,” Katie interrupted as she bobbed her straw up and down.

  Julia’s heart sank. “H-heard what?”

  “With my clients.” Katie sipped her drink. “Everyone in the village is talking about how you’ve been paying for my clients’ nails and giving them remover because I’ve been doing such an awful job.”

  Julia gulped down her drink, her heart pounding in her chest. The silence dragged out long enough to become even more awkward.

  “Today’s nails were perfect,” Julia offered with a smile. “Shilpa loved them.”

  “So, it is true.” Katie sighed and slumped back in her seat. “I am awful at it.”

  “You’re learning.”

  “I’m unqualified for the world, Julia,” Katie said, frowning. “I’m not angry. It’s sweet of you to protect me. I hoped I’d finally be able to learn a skill so I could just do something, but I can’t even do that.”

  “Shilpa loved her nails,” Julia repeated, resting a hand on Katie’s knee. “You’re getting better, and one day, every set will be perfect. But you need to learn. When you do, the sky will be the limit.”

  “Maybe I can’t see the sky for the clouds.” Katie sipped her drink. “I feel like life is out to get me. I meet the love of my life, my brother dies. I have a baby, my dad dies, and I lose my home. Am I a horrible person, Julia?”

  “Never say that.” Julia shuffled over and wrapped her arm around Katie’s shoulders. “You’re a great mother, a great wife, and you’ll be a great nail technician in no time. Maybe you started on real nails too soon, but you only did it because you’re trying to make money to support your family. You’re trying your best, Katie, and that’s all that matters. After everything you’ve been through, you still keep smiling. Few people can say that.”

  Katie smiled, her eyes welling up.

  “Sorry about the mess,” she said, tapping the tears away before they ruined her make-up. “I have no idea about anything.”

  “Then it’s another thing to learn.” Julia gave her a squeeze. “You won’t be living in my guest bedroom forever. Soon, you’ll have your own home, and things will feel different. There are plenty of empty shops in Peridale, and Katie’s Nail Salon would fit right in.”

  “My own salon?” Katie frowned. “You think I could do that?”

  “Why not?” Julia winked. “You’re a South woman, remember, and according to my gran, we can do anything. And say anything, apparently. She needs to apologise to you.”

  “She doesn’t.” Katie shook her head. “Not that she ever would. She might be harsh, but she’s right. It’s time to grow up.”

  They sat in silence while the music grew increasingly louder. Two tall, handsome, well-dressed men in their early thirties walked over, each with a bottle of beer in hand and the same smarmy smile plastered on their faces.

  “Ladies,” one said, “we couldn’t help but notice you’re alone. Can we buy you a drink?”

  “We’re not alone,” Katie fired back. “We’re with each other. We’re both married, and she’s pregnant, but if you still want to buy us a drink, mine’s a piña colada, thanks.”

  Both sets of perfect brows arched on their shiny, tanned faces, and they turned and walked away without another word, heading for the dancefloor instead of the bar. Julia couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “I spent all my twenties
and thirties in bars before I met your father,” Katie called over the thumping music. “I was bored with life, I think, and it was something to spend money on. It all feels like such a waste of time now. Life hasn’t felt the same since I had Vinnie. Everything changes. The way you look at the world changes.”

  “How do you look at the world right now?”

  The soft lighting cut out, replaced by flashing colourful disco lights.

  “I’m not saying everyone has to have a baby, but I didn’t feel like I had a true purpose until I had him.” Katie dropped her head and smiled. “Everything I do is for him. You’ll know what I mean in a few months.” She paused and looked around the bar. “Should we go? I’m too old for this.”

  “I’m glad you said it.”

  They slurped the last of their over-priced drinks and awkwardly made their way through the packed bar. Even though the sun was still shining, the nightlife had already started up. There was a full smoking area on one side and a queue of people lining up.

  “Maybe a nice country pub next time?” Julia suggested.

  “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

  They walked past the line of young people queuing to get into the bar. Thomas’s face jumped out, easily the oldest in line. His eyes caught Julia’s, and he turned his head before looking back and pushing forward a strained smile. One eye was a shiny purple-black, while the other sported a freshly scabbed-over scratch.

  “Julia.” He nodded curtly. “Katie. Didn’t think this place would be your thing.”

  “Turns out it’s not,” Julia replied, pulling her car keys from her handbag. “What happened to your face?”

  Thomas lifted his hand to his face and touched the scratch. “Oh. Some kid at the studio. Took my criticism too personally and caught me off-guard. Won’t do it twice.”

  “Wasn’t Jessie, was it?”

  “No, no.” Thomas dropped his hands and shuffled down the shortening line; Julia and Katie shuffled with him. “Although she dropped by earlier. She’s a little firecracker that one. Perfect for mixed martial arts.” He inhaled deeply. “Listen, about what happened at Dot’s – I owe you an apology.”

  Julia smiled. “Likewise.”

  Their conversation ended when the bouncer motioned for Thomas to move forward for a pat-down. Thomas nodded to Julia and Katie and headed for the bar that had transformed into a jumping club since their arrival.

  “I think he was lying about the scratch,” Julia said once they were further up the street.

  “I thought so, too. Why would Thomas lie?”

  “I don’t know.” Julia unlocked her car. “Do you trust him?”

  “Not one bit.”

  When they returned to the cottage, Julia was pleased to see that Barker had ventured out of the bedroom. The microwave had been whisked away along with most of the mess. Boxes still crowded the hallway, but they had been neatened up, and the floor and surfaces were now clear.

  “Before she left, my mother told me to pass on an apology,” Brian explained when they all congregated in the kitchen. “And Julia, I’ve already ordered a new microwave. It’ll be here tomorrow. Isn’t the internet marvellous?”

  “Is everyone hungry?” Julia asked, walking over to the notice board on the kitchen wall. “Chinese or Indian?”

  “Pizza,” Katie replied.

  “Oh, pizza sounds good,” Barker agreed, making it the first time in almost twenty-four hours Julia had heard his voice.

  When Vinnie was settled in bed, they ordered pizza. They spent the rest of the night in the sitting room eating, laughing, and watching old episodes of The Great British Bake-Off. If only it could be like that all the time, Julia mused as she readied herself for bed.

  “Perhaps having them here isn’t so bad,” Barker said when they were comfortable in bed. “They still need to go soon, though.”

  “I know,” Julia replied through a yawn. “They will. They don’t like this arrangement any more than we do.”

  “I’ve had an idea.”

  “Oh?”

  Barker rolled over to face her.

  “I’m going to buy all the furniture for my new PI office from your dad’s shop,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I wasn’t exactly intending on paying antique-dealer prices, but I don’t think a room full of IKEA flatpack would work down there. Might as well give your dad the business. It might give them the boost they need to cobble together a rental deposit. As you said, all they need is a cash injection.”

  “That’s really sweet of you.” Julia kissed him. “So, you still want to be a PI, then?”

  “Of course.” Barker slid his arm under her and pulled her close until only the warmth of their bodies was between them. “One little wobble will not stop me. I still think I was right.”

  “About?”

  “All this boiling down to money.”

  13

  Even in a deep sleep, Julia was aware of two things.

  I’m dreaming.

  I need to pee.

  The ground beneath her feet rocked, swaying her from side to side on the deck of a gigantic ship. A violent red sky swirled above. Black clouds raced past as fast as sports cars. She called out for help, but the howling wind drowned it out.

  How could this not be a dream?

  She couldn’t gain any purchase on the slick deck. The more she tried, the more she slipped. The shaking grew more erratic, almost tipping her over the edge.

  Is the deck covered in soap?

  Somebody wants me off this boat.

  Should I let go and wake up?

  I really do need to pee.

  Her knuckles whitened as she clung for her life. When she stared into the water, she saw the waves weren’t bobbing, they were boiling like liquid nitrogen.

  I’m scared.

  An impossibly large face emerged through the foggy top layer where the liquid became an icy gas. The face belonged to Ian Cropper, and he stared deep into her soul, frostbite spreading across his face like a virus.

  “Julia?” Ian called out, his voice not his own but still familiar. “Wake up, Julia!”

  And she did.

  In a flash, she was off the ship and back in the safety of her country cottage bedroom. She let out a sigh of relief, sinking into the firmness of her mattress; she was awake. She blinked hard and stared into the dark, and Barker stared back. His hand was on her arm, gently shaking her awake.

  “I almost fell overboard,” Julia mumbled, her mind foggy.

  “What?”

  “I…” Julia attempted to cling to the dream, but it faded away like a ship into the fog. “I don’t remember.”

  Half-sitting up, the strain in her eyes told her that, despite the sunlight leaking through the edges of the curtains, it wasn’t quite time for her alarm clock to beep.

  “What time is it?”

  “Six.” Jessie’s voice cut through the darkness from the other side of the bedroom. “Sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Julia bolted up and flicked on the bedside lamp. Jessie had clearly been crying.

  “Someone broke into Jessie’s flat,” Barker explained. “She says they’ve trashed the place.”

  “What?” Julia repeated, her mind fully syncing with reality. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Jessie sighed before perching on Barker’s side of the bed. “I wasn’t in. I slept at Dot’s. I was at the Plough with Alfie last night. I left my bag there. They’d locked up by the time I realised it was missing, so I went to Dot’s to borrow her spare key. She was already asleep, so I just crashed on the sofa. Dot woke up at the crack of dawn. I think I nearly gave her a heart attack. She gave me a key, so I went home and…”

  Jessie’s voice trailed off, and her bottom lip wobbled.

  “How bad is it?” Julia asked.

  “Bad,” Jessie replied with a shaky smile, her eyes misting over. “I think you might want to see it for yourself.”

  “Okay.” Julia ripped back the covers. “But first, I need to get to a t
oilet as soon as possible.”

  Ten minutes later, the three of them stood in the tight alley between the café and the post office looking into the stairwell leading up to the flat. The red door lay wonkily in the entrance, its hinges ripped from the wooden frame. Jessie and Barker pulled the door out and leaned it against the wall, and a scruffy-looking tabby cat darted out and through their legs. It vanished into the fields behind the café.

  Following Jessie’s nod to go first, Julia slowly made her way up the narrow staircase. From the moment she entered the small flat, the damage was evident. All the plant pots and decorations had been smashed. The curtains had been ripped from the window and shredded. Every picture lay broken against the skirting board. Clothes were strewn around the place, cut and torn. The flat-screen TV now existed as two separate entities. Furniture with legs now slanted. Broken glasses and crockery coated the kitchen floor, bobbing on the linoleum thanks to the overflowing sink. The white stuffing balls from the burst-open beanbags covered everything else.

  Julia’s heart split right down the middle. The objects hardly had any monetary value since they had all been bought second-hand or given when Jessie first moved in, but everything had value to Jessie. Her flat had become not just her private sanctuary but a symbol of her independence after a rocky upbringing filled with uncertainty. The thought of someone coming in and destroying everything in a single night was enough to bring Julia to tears.

  “Who could have done this?” Julia asked, wiping away her tears before Jessie saw them. “And why?”

  Jessie pushed open the bedroom door and nodded for Julia to have a look. She crept in. Though at first glance, the bedroom appeared untouched, a large message had been scrawled on the wall above the bed, the red paint dripping down like blood. The bed, which hadn’t been made during any of Julia’s previous visits, was perfectly neat, and something more chilling than the message on the wall lay in the middle of the smooth duvet.

  A single green dollar bill.

  “I warned you,” Julia read aloud, the words drying out her throat. “The American.”