A Body Displaced (Lansin Island 2)

by Andrew Butcher

  But Lillian flicked her head away, chin high and squinting, in a fashion that reminded Juliet of her mother. ‘No, sweetheart. I think it’s simply that your mother was born with the view that the world had wronged her somehow, so when she won that money, she latched onto it like it was the only good she would ever get. The money did not change her; she made that money define who she is.’

  Juliet could see some logic in the theory, but still she thought, There has to be more to Mum than that. She was tempted to keep talking, but thinking of it all made her angry, and Lillian had spoken her last sentence with finality.

  For a while longer she watched over her gran, still worried for her health. But once reassured Lillian’s pain had subsided, she found herself with nothing to do. As was becoming the norm.

  If she didn’t find a new hobby or academic interest soon, she’d end up sitting about the house thinking all day … and her stress would build and build and build. Now that she’d learnt to passively block out the spirits, though, she supposed spending more time outdoors would be okay again. Occasionally, when her guard slipped, she would see flickers and blurs, but she’d quickly remember Tamara’s teachings—I believe in my ability, believe in what I can do—and the phenomena would disappear.

  Back to work. That was it: She would return to Chanton Hillview café. She’d worried her staff might be more perceptive of her guilt, because they were some of the only people she’d allowed herself to get close to. But it was okay now. Her shame surrounding Aldrich’s murder had lessened in correlation with her returning confidence.

  Time to move forward.

  She got dressed into suitable clothes for the weather and work, leaving behind the thick and cumbersome articles she’d hidden under for the past months. Then she walked down the familiar route, realising how much she’d missed it.

  On the way, she passed a couple of men, and each looked her up and down. They were so shameless about it, she felt uncomfortable. Guys checked her out often, but it never used to be so blatant … Or maybe it’s more common now? There was one thing she knew for sure: The side effects of her ability were to blame.

  The self-closing door offered its natural resistance when Juliet entered. The view. She smiled, knowing the minimalistic style achieved what she had wanted: The hills to the north of the island were the main focal point. The neutral tan, brown, and chrome colours were subtle enough to be unobtrusive, and even though dashes of red offered distraction, the layout naturally led the customers’ eyes to the back of the café, to the entire glass wall displaying the view of the hills.

  Already, mild damage was noticeable on the décor, and Juliet certainly noticed it; it made her wish she’d seen the wear taking place. Time to move forward. Not look back.

  Even the thought of retrospection brought her parents to mind. I’m glad Lillian’s the perfect mother for you … What had her mother meant by that? She’d received a text from her yesterday, after dinner with Austin and Lillian. It read:

  we r stayin at the herlit htl. Has tht woman left the house yt? M xox

  Now it seemed Juliet’s mother was referring to The Haven as ‘the house,’ instead of her house, which was a step in the right direction, at least. Juliet had no worries that her parents could afford to stay at The Herlit, a posh and pricey hotel in Amiton, and she’d rather they sojourn there than at her home—that would come at the unthinkable price of evicting Lillian.

  Juliet had replied:

  If you mean Gran, then no. She lives here. Enjoy your stay. X

  Maybe the reply had been immature, but Juliet wanted to hold strong. Her mother had to learn to respect her.

  ‘Juliet!’ one of her staff members, Ashleigh, exclaimed and did a little dance. A tray of food and hot drinks wobbled in her hands. Regaining its balance, she laughed. ‘Are you working today?’ She held her breath after the question.

  ‘Yes,’ Juliet replied, to which Ashleigh grinned wide and breathed out. ‘I thought I’d see how you’re all getting on without me.’

  Ashleigh’s eyes widened, the rest of her face slackening. When Juliet began to squint at her employee, Ashleigh gave a noticeably forced smile.

  Juliet asked, ‘How are things going?’

  ‘Gimme a minute.’ Ashleigh hurried off and delivered the order to an elderly couple chit-chatting at a table nearby. Juliet recognised the couple, who regularly came in for cream tea, and smiled a greeting to them. When Ashleigh returned, she looked as if she was about to answer, but then shrugged. ‘It’s been … fine.’

  Ashleigh was the bubbliest person Juliet knew. Something had to be up.

  ‘Is Sandra in?’

  ‘No.’ Ashleigh’s lips pulled in.

  A suspicion arose in Juliet. She spotted Roy behind the counter, using the coffee machine. She waited for the drink he was preparing to end up in a customer’s hand, then took her chance to say, ‘Hi, Roy. I’d like to speak with you in the office when you’re free.’

  ‘Hello,’ his deep voice rumbled. ‘Yes, of course. Allow me just a moment, please.’ He was a big, round man, originally from Zimbabwe, and although he had a strong accent with a staccato cadence, he spoke excellent English from having lived in London for ten years and working as a chef in a busy restaurant.

  While Juliet waited, a new staff member, Charlie Robson, headed over. He was friends with Ashleigh, who had recommended him for the position, and had been upfront in his interview about wanting the job so he could save for travelling. Juliet had respected that.

  Charlie would have been very plain-looking if it wasn’t for some unsightly features. The shape of his mouth was a crescent with the pointed edges down, but even through this naturally shaped frown, he predominantly looked happy—foolishly so. Buckteeth cut the crescent in two. His nose was long with a sharp end, drawn down too far as if it hadn’t known when to stop growing, and his cheeks, meaty below half-open eyes, bulged over an undeveloped chin. A caricature artist would have a field day with his face.

  ‘Hi, Juliet.’

  ‘Charlie. How are you finding working here?’

  A slight flinch ran over his face, his features making him an open book. ‘I like it here … especially when Roy’s in.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. How about working with Sandra?’

  ‘Yeah. She’s really … on the ball.’ But a sudden alertness in his usually sleepy eyes gave away his true feelings.

  ‘Okay.’ There was no point drilling him on the matter, and Juliet understood his reluctance to speak ill of a colleague. ‘How’s saving up coming along? Do you know where you want to go travelling yet?’

  His face brightened immediately. ‘I’ve saved some money, but my friends keep inviting me out, so I’ve been spending more than I should, really.’ He laughed, rolled his eyes, and looked searchingly at Juliet as if they shared the same problem. ‘And, erm, it depends where Claire wants to go, really. It’s her that wants to travel more than I do. And I want to be with her for the rest of my life, so I’ll just go wherever she picks.’

  How can you know at nineteen who you want to spend the rest of your life with? Juliet was seven years older than Charlie and had enough concerns just casually dating, let alone committing to someone.

  ‘She keeps changing her mind,’ he continued. ‘One minute she’s thinking America, maybe Route 66, and the next she wants to travel Europe. It’s hard to know how much I need to save!’

  Juliet smiled. ‘Well, as long as you’re saving something, you’ll be getting closer to the amount you need. However much that ends up being.’

  ‘Ha, yeah, that’s true.’ He was smiling goofily when Juliet noticed his eyes glance down and linger on her body. It wasn’t in a perverted manner, more like his mind had wandered. It was awkward, though, especially with him being such an open book.

  ‘Juliet,’ Roy said from behind her. She looked back; he was ready to talk.

  ‘Okay.’ Turning to Charlie, she said, ‘I need to speak with Roy in the office. Ashleigh knows what she’s doing
if you need any help, but I’m sure you two will be fine for a moment.’

  Charlie appeared to snap out of his daydream. ‘Yeah, we’ll be okay. It was nice to see you again.’ Although she doubted his words were judgemental, Juliet picked up on the hidden message: You’ve not been here enough. She felt no need to justify herself.

  As she walked with Roy to the office, she thought about Austin, finally deciding she was glad they’d reached a physical level. Maybe three dates was too soon, but at least Austin intended to stick around for a while. The more she remembered the details of last night, the better she felt about it.

  In the office, she saw the desk had been moved. It almost annoyed her, but then … What should I expect after having so much time off? Still, this had been her space. One of her favourite places to be.

  The wooden floor creaked as Roy followed her inside. Juliet hadn’t noticed in the light of the café, but Roy’s eyes looked red and heavy. His face hung into a subtle frown.

  ‘I spoke with Ashleigh a moment ago,’ Juliet began. ‘I asked her how things were going here, and she didn’t seem too enthusiastic in her answer ...’

  Roy chuckled. ‘Ashleigh is a good girl. She does not want to cause trouble,’ he said, as if it were a complete answer. But when Juliet remained silent, her stand-in manager heaved in a breath that lifted his chest. ‘I think we should talk.’

  ‘Sure.’ Juliet pulled out a chair for him, then sat behind her desk, sensing the wrongness of its new position. Roy’s chair made noises of protest, supporting his weight as he lowered into it.

  ‘I did not want to tell you this over the phone.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘And I do not want to put you in a difficult position.’

  ‘Roy.’ Juliet huffed light-heartedly. ‘Just tell me, please.’

  ‘It is Sandra.’

  I know. I’ve figured that out already … but what has she done?

  Roy went on. ‘She has been very … strict’—he nodded, as if assuring himself he’d picked the right word—‘in her running of the café. She was all right at first when you promoted her, but she has become quick to rebuke Ashleigh and Charlie, and she does not have the patience to tell them how to improve. It is a hostile feeling when she is here.’ After a thoughtful pause, he said, ‘Sometimes, she will even talk to me in this manner, in front of our customers.’

  Juliet shook her head. ‘This puts me in a tough situation.’ Roy’s expression became troubled, which wasn’t Juliet’s intention, so she added, ‘But it’s my responsibility to handle situations like this. I’ll talk to her.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He breathed out like he was blowing out a candle. ‘You know the reasons I wanted to work here. I have worked hard, I have lived my life—in terms of career, I believe—and so I wanted this slower pace. But at the rate it is going ...’ His heavy eyes fell on Juliet’s. ‘… Sandra will drive me away.’

  The thought of it made Juliet’s chest ache. I should have been here. ‘I won’t let that happen. I’ll talk to her next time I’m in.’

  Roy seemed about to ask when that would be, but then tightened his lips instead. He nodded.

  Juliet had worried about this exact thing when she’d given Sandra the role. Even in her previous position, Sandra had been diligent, precise, but also bossy. That bossiness was never backed up by power, though—not until Juliet promoted her. It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to her as reasonably as possible. But she knew it would be a delicate procedure. Sandra wasn’t a nasty person, and she probably didn’t mean to cause misery for others, but she had a habit of knowing in her head what tasks needed completing and at the same time, not communicating it to the staff. So when jobs weren’t finished the way she silently expected, she became impatient and angry.

  ‘Have you seen any more of that man?’ asked Roy. ‘The one who came in to ask about you.’

  ‘Austin? Who asked about the décor?’

  ‘Yes. Him. Did you know him already?’

  ‘No.’ The question bugged her. ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh. I thought he knew you. He came straight inside and asked to speak to you, to Juliet Maystone, is what he said. I asked why, and he said about the interior of the café, like I told you, but I assumed you must have known him.’

  ‘You told me he asked for the manager.’

  ‘You are the manager.’ He frowned. ‘I am sorry. I do not know why I told it to you that way. He did ask for you, but by name.’

  Now frowning herself, Juliet thought, A simple misunderstanding? But it didn’t reassure her. The next time she saw Austin, she would have to ask him about this. Since unintentionally becoming complicit in murder, she’d learnt it was better to err on the side of caution than go with the flow and end up in deep waters.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS LIKE magic. The curly-haired man had turned the corner … then vanished. Nick stood there, perplexed, for a couple of minutes. A kind of electric friction momentarily warped the air. There was nowhere the man could have hidden with such speed. But after scanning the area the best he could in the dark, Nick grew concerned and returned home.

  He considered alerting the police, but because of the suspicious guy’s disappearing act, he decided against it. Something bigger was afoot. Before, he hadn’t been sure Kerra’s abduction was targeted. But now, a dread in his gut begged him to see the signs. Someone had said something recently … something important. What was it?

  With nothing more he could do, he turned in. In the morning, he remembered that a nightmare had tormented his sleep. Alex and Kerra. Alex and Kerra. Alex and Kerra. Why do I keep seeing it? I got over it years ago. And in his waking moments, he had revisited the conflict with David Evans at Creaky Crystals. The look in David’s eyes: the blame, the hate, the anger … but most painfully, the sadness.

  Hot chocolate normally helped to cheer him, so that’s what he drank this morning. It didn’t help. He reached the bottom of the mug, and then, in a foul mood, tired and restive, he answered a knocking at the front door.

  It was Alex Campbell of all people. His acne-covered face was instantly recognisable, along with his salient nose, big, round ears, and always-dry and flaky lips. Plain, light brown hair accompanied his undesirable features.

  Nick ran his tongue along the bottoms of his upper molars, his jaw jutting to the side. Every time he saw Alex, he wondered what attraction Kerra had to him. Not physical. But he knew Alex had magnetism, a way of making others feel instantly included in his life—though Nick suspected the only reason his former friend fed into people’s attention-seeking behaviour was to gain their favour so he could turn around and use them.

  ‘Nick. I heard what happened.’ Alex’s voice was tense.

  There was nothing to say back to that.

  ‘Nick?’

  Alex’s face bred contempt in Nick. The face that had deceived him. The face that had laughed behind his back, and then begged and apologised when its owner had been caught out. The face that right now looked more and more despicable by the second. You’ve not made a real effort with me in months. Why now? Alex only texted or called from time to time, suggesting they hit the town, or hang out, but the effort always seemed forced.

  ‘Nick ...’ he stressed, as if Nick were hard of hearing. ‘I heard about Kerra.’

  Kerra … Kerra ... Nick’s head pounded. Him using her name felt like he was taking a liberty—another liberty. Was this hate always here?

  Nick looked down at his fist.

  The potent image again. The climax. The betrayal. We were friends. Fin and I welcomed you into our group. We were a trio. I trusted you.

  ‘Nick?’ Alex raised his voice.

  So Nick thumped him in the face. Alex stumbled backwards, fell. The front door was closed and locked before he could retaliate.

  Flexing his aching knuckles, Nick experienced massive relief … and massive anxiety. He laughed. Then laughed some more, shaking his head. But his thoughts were a snarled cloud that made no sense.

  Bang, b
ang, bang-bang-bang-bang! Alex assaulted the door. ‘Niiiiick! You fucking twat!’ he raged.

  Still laughing, unsure of what to say but needing to say something, he shouted back, ‘That was long overdue, Alex.’

  The assault of the door went on, echoing down the hall. But eventually Alex stopped. ‘Fine,’ he yelled. ‘I deserved that.’

  ‘You deserved more than that.’

  ‘Fine! Just let me in ... We’ll talk.’

  And just like that, it was less funny. Nick would have to face his actions. But not now. ‘No. Just go away.’

  ‘Nick ... The police questioned me yesterday.’ Alex spoke more calmly. Nick walked to the snug and opened a small, high window to hear better. Alex’s left cheek was bright red. His ashen hair glinted golden in the daylight. ‘They thought I could have ... you know? But I was with John and Niall from school that night. We were in town ... and they confirmed that.’

  Nick had never suspected him anyway; Alex may have been deceitful and disloyal, but a murderer?

  ‘You don’t have to explain,’ Nick said miserably. ‘Just leave, please.’

  Alex protested. He stuck around for a while—he was always a stubborn one—but Nick easily out-waited him from inside the comfort of his home.

  Don’t draw attention to yourself—that was the advice he should have been following. Nice one … punching a suspect. The police will love that.

  The days passed. The cut healed above Nick’s right ear, the bruising faded, the itching stopped. It seemed as if the police were doing nothing. Nick’s colleagues (apart from Janet) had become more comfortable around him again, talking without shame about other subjects, making jokes again. He was glad for it; they shouldn’t have to put their lives on hold.

  The wedge between Janet and him grew wider, sunk deeper, pushing them apart. Now she only spoke to him when practicality demanded it. He didn’t blame her. He couldn’t.

  Across the week, the incident at West Edge Country House gained local publicity. People were interested in the mystery surrounding it: an abduction in a hotel full of people—so many characters, so many suspects!—but nobody saw what happened … or did they? Nick could almost hear the DUN-DUN-DUUUUN! It frustrated him how much people were enjoying the source of his suffering. At one point, Alice Bicker almost blabbered about it in Creaky Crystals, but quickly realised it was in bad taste.