Once Upon a Crime

by Mona Marple

  Once Upon A Crime

  Waterfell Tweed Cozy Mystery Series: Book One

  Mona Marple

  Copyright © 2017 by Mona Marple

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For S

  Thank you for your constant belief in me

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Thank You For Reading

  A Tale of Two Bodies:

  About the Author

  1

  It was a bitter day in Waterfell Tweed.

  Woken by the hammering rain earlier than she’d like, Sandy got herself ready in a rush. She had spent an hour devouring her latest mystery novel before spotting the time. She was often left with little time to get ready because of her love for books! She pulled on her bright yellow mac and braved the day.

  The rain attacked her, hitting her with an almost horizontal angle thanks to the wind. The village’s elevated position meant the wind was too common.

  Sandy didn’t mind rain, especially if she had the choice of curling up inside with a big mug of mocha. But wind? It seemed so pointless.

  “Good morning!” a cheery voice called as Sandy unlocked her car door. She turned to see Elaine Peters, her next-door neighbour, being pulled by her dalmatian Scamp as much as the wind itself.

  “Morning Elaine, great weather,” Sandy called.

  Elaine laughed as if she had heard the funniest joke of the year, which it may have been to her. Elaine kept herself to herself; had done ever since her husband had died.

  “Have a lovely day,” Elaine said. “I’ll pop down later for your thing.”

  “Thank you!” Sandy called and climbed in the old Land Rover. She hadn’t expected Elaine to show her face at the fundraiser.

  Sandy's drive to Books and Bakes took just under five minutes. The route was a single winding road through the stunning scenery of the Peak District. She usually turned off the radio in the car and enjoyed the quiet time with her thoughts and the view. Lately, she had become more and more distracted by worries over the shop's declining profits. It had become hard for her to even notice the pretty countryside as she drove through it.

  But today she wouldn’t allow those thoughts into her mind.

  Today was the fundraiser. A huge cake sale (and Sandy hoped books would sell too!) with half of the profits going to the primary school’s collection for roof repairs.

  The famous Waterfell Tweed winds had scattered eighteen roof tiles around the playground a fortnight before (on a Saturday) and, because the winds were ‘predictable’, the school insurance had refused to pay out.

  Sandy arrived at the shop and parked. She had put her staff on short hours a month before, meaning she had to arrive to a shop in darkness each morning and prepare everything for the day herself.

  As she turned the corner this morning, however, and her shop came into view, her stomach lurched as she saw the lights on and a fresh stream of (now soaked) bunting hanging along the window.

  She dashed to the door and let herself in, the bell signalling her arrival.

  The music was playing and laughter came from the kitchen. She padded across the café seating section and behind the counter, just as a friendly face appeared from the kitchen.

  “What time do you call this?” Bernice Alton asked, her red lips breaking into a huge smile.

  “Oh, Bernice!” Sandy cried, as her eyes began to water. When Sandy had reduced her employee’s hours just weeks before, Bernice had grabbed her hand and told her she’d enjoy a few lie-ins until things improved.

  “Come on, no time for that,” Bernice said, leading Sandy into the kitchen.

  Her oldest friend, who Sandy was sure had never stepped foot in a kitchen before, was mixing a bowl of ingredients. Flour flecks made her hair white in places.

  “Cass?”

  “Don’t faint!” Cass said, splashing more of the cake mixture onto the work surface.

  “You guys are amazing. Thank you so much… as soon as things get better…”

  "Enough of that. Let’s get to work.” Bernice said.

  Sandy pulled off her mac, washed her hands and surveyed the room. Laid out on trays to cool were chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies. Sea salt and hazelnut muffins were just being taken out of the oven, and old-fashioned individual apple pies smelt delicious. Bernice and Cass must have been baking for hours.

  “What needs doing?”

  “I’m on the lemon cake,” Cass said, gesturing to the pitiful remainders in the bowl she was mixing.

  “There’s a coffee and walnut in the oven and I’ve just put ginger ice cream to freeze,” Bernice said.

  “Ginger ice cream? Wow.” Sandy remarked. Bernice was a creative baker, experimenting with glee over new recipes. Sometimes she just made them up. Sandy much preferred having a tried-and-tested recipe to follow.

  “I tasted it, it was awful,” Cass said with a laugh.

  Bernice raised an eyebrow then swatted Cass’ back with a tea towel.

  “Hey!” Cass exclaimed. “I'm only sharing my opinion!”

  “Let’s see how the lemon cake turns out,” Bernice said, but she was smiling. She could appear stern but she put that down to her military upbringing. Hers was a home with an abundance of love, she would often say, but no shouting about it.

  Sandy shook her head in wonder and allowed her shoulders to relax. It wasn’t the life she had expected to live but she wouldn’t change things for the world. Well, other than more paying customers so she wasn’t scared of opening the bills sometimes.

  “Sandy?” Bernice asked, her voice a whisper as Cass disappeared to make herself a fresh cappuccino from behind the shop counter.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you ok?” The older woman asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

  “I’m fine,” Sandy said, forcing a smile. She hated being asked if she was okay, something about the question made her feel as though she might cry even if she’d been happy before hearing the question.

  “You seemed jumpy when you got here.”

  “Oh!” Sandy burst into a laugh. “That! Yes, yes I guess I was. I wondered who was in here with the lights on that’s all.”

  “Ooh yes, Jim Slaughter would be no protection if we’d been two armed robbers!” Cass shrieked with laughter from the doorway, a mug of hot cappuccino in her hands.

  “Cassandra!” Bernice scolded, with a smile. Jim was the local policeman, and he had more phobias than anyone else Sandy had ever met. His mother had even hinted that he still wouldn't sleep in the dark.

  “I wouldn’t need Jim anyhow, I can protect myself,” Sandy mumbled. Bernice and Cass were chatting among themselves and didn’t hear.

  **

  By the time Books and Bakes opened at 9:05 am because the kitchen clock was a few minutes behind, Sandy was delighted to see a small line formed at the door.

  Nothing like a school fundraiser to bring such community together, and it made Sandy’s heart swell with pride.

  “Good morning!” She called to the wet line of people in rain macs, holding the door open as they dripped rain a
ll over the floor.

  “Nothing good about a day this wet.” Dorie Slaughter, the village battleaxe and Jim’s mum, muttered as she folded her umbrella and traipsed past Sandy.

  “Umbrella in the box, please.” Sandy reminded.

  “In the box? Another newfangled idea. What if someone steals it?” Dorie grumbled. At least five people voiced their fear of their tatty umbrellas being stolen every time it rained, to Sandy’s amusement.

  “I can’t imagine anyone will set out without one of their own today, Dorie. But if the unthinkable happens, you can take my own with you. Okay?”

  “Fair enough I guess,” Dorie said, lowering herself into the chair closest to the unlit fire. “I’ll take a milky coffee and a sausage cob.”

  “Coming right up,” Sandy said with a flourish. Dorie was pleasant beneath her grumbles and a loyal customer. She made a point of trying every new cake and gave honest feedback about which were the nicest. It made Sandy sad to notice she only ever came in alone.

  The other customers were browsing around the bookshelves to Sandy’s delight. She enjoyed running the cafe side of the business but cakes alone weren’t enough to make the business work. When she’d told Cass that she planned to open a cafe and bookshop, her best friend had suggested that she open a nail salon instead. Sandy had laughed; she wasn't a nail salon person. Cass had used her own idea, renting a small shop across the village square and opening LA Nails. Sandy was proud of her friend, but she sometimes looked at the constant stream of customers coming and wished her passion had been for beauty instead of books.

  “Do you know, dear…” Dorie called out as Sandy appeared with her plate of food.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well have you heard the news? My James has been casting his net.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Dorie rolled her eyes. She loved to be the first to share gossip, even when it was about her only son. “He’s back on the market. Dating. Quite a catch he is”

  “Oh. Wonderful.” Sandy said, hoping that Dorie wasn’t attempting to match make.

  “He won’t tell me who she is yet but I remember his sort. It will be someone glamorous. You homely women would be better for him, but he always goes for looks instead…”

  Sandy walked away from Dorie and attempted to not take offence at the woman’s words, not that she could deny their truth. She was a homely woman, with a muffin top over her jeans and a double chin. The chin took her by surprise every time she turned her phone camera on selfie mode. But, she was happy. And she didn’t want to be Jim Slaughter’s type. He was friend material only.

  The door opened then and a gust of wind sent Dorie’s napkin flying. Sandy moved to grab it and banged heads with the new visitor who had also ducked to retrieve it.

  “Oh, darling!” Reginald Halfman cried, cupping his injured head and collapsing into the seat closest to him.

  “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Sandy asked although she knew he was fine and didn’t have much patience for amateur dramatics.

  “Yes, love, yes, I shall live to fight another day! An espresso is very much needed, and on the house, I hope. Some people would sue…”

  “Oh, Reg…” Sandy said, knowing he hated the abbreviated form. “Give me two minutes.”

  She returned to the counter and made his drink. Another six customers arrived and, she noted, four of them headed straight for the cafe without even a glance at the bookshelves. The problem, she felt sure, was that the books occupied such a small space within the shop they almost appeared to be an afterthought. Occasionally, customers had even asked her whether they could look at the books!

  “Here you go,” Sandy said, placing the tiny drink in front of Reginald. He was a tall and trim man with a gleaming bald head and a cutting tongue. He and Dorie eyed each other, enemies of old.

  “You, my dear, are an absolute lifesaver.” He said, grabbing her hand and squeezing hard.

  “Yes, some say. Enjoy.”

  Sandy approached the next table where a man and woman she didn’t know sat shivering in their rain macs. “What can I get for you?”

  “Pot of tea please, two cups.” The man said.

  “Any cakes? Nice bacon cob to warm you up?”

  “Ooh no, we only came in to escape the rain.” The man said as if paying for tea was frivolous.

  “Well you’re welcome, and please have a browse of the books to help you stay dry for longer,” Sandy said with a smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, friends and enemies alike!” Reginald’s flamboyant voice startled Sandy. She turned to see him standing on top of one of her cafe tables!

  “Reginald, get down from there. You’ll hurt yourself.” She called, approaching him.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, girl, I need to be here to address my public.”

  “Reginald…”

  “Shall I call the police?” Dorie asked, also rising from her chair. “My son is a police officer, ladies and gentlemen. Do not panic.”

  “Oh Dorothy, be quiet.” Reginald said.

  “Health and safety will be coming if you get mud all over the tables.” The pot-of-tea-man said with a snicker.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement, are you ready? It's so exciting!”

  Dorie’s ears pricked up, and she returned her old Nokia to her handbag.

  “I, Reginald Leopold Halfman, can announce that in just seven days’ time, I shall take over the business you now know as LA Nails and - drum roll please - transforming it into The Book Stop!”

  “What?” Sandy asked.

  “Yes! Yes! I will bring culture and intellectual interests to our lovely village. Isn’t it exciting!”

  “A bookshop? Like mine?” Sandy asked.

  “No darling, much bigger! Much better! This place is a wonderful hobby, I’m sure, but imagine what a real businessman could do. I can hardly stand the excitement.”

  Sandy swallowed and focused her gaze on a spot on the counter to force the tears back. Reginald Halfman was one of the wealthiest people in the village. He would have the funds for stock she couldn’t dream of, a full team of staff, authors to attend events… there was no way she could compete with him.

  Her business was as good as ruined.

  2

  Sandy washed the plates with a heavy spirit, fearing how many more nights she would have standing in this kitchen washing these pots.

  The cafe had been busy all day, an endless stream of visitors keeping her busy serving refreshments and cakes and even selling books.

  Charlotte Harlow, a pharmaceutical rep originally from the village, bought a beautifully illustrated book of children’s poetry, and she didn’t even have children.

  Elaine Peters had turned up as promised, her eyelashes, like heavy spiders, coated in mascara as she smiled the whole way through her green tea. It was great to watch her taking part in village life again.

  Sandy finished rinsing the last dishes and took a stroll before heading home. She wandered through the graveyard and through the grounds of Waterfell Manor. The drizzle had stopped in the morning, so the ground was dry and the temperature nice; with a clear crisp autumn feel to the air that Sandy loved.

  She had taken over £1,000 that day, a figure that made her eyes water. A good part of that would go to the school fund. But just that the numbers were possible would have given Sandy hope she could reach them again, maybe often even. Reginald's news changed everything.

  There had been a rumble of energy in the shop ever since his announcement. She'd plastered a smile on her face and hoped she convinced people she felt pleased to see a rival bookstore open just opposite her own.

  She was disappointed in Reginald but not surprised. Cass' silence about the plans hurt more. Sandy couldn’t understand how her best friend was allowing Reginald to take over her own premises to put Sandy out of business. Cass had rung her four times that afternoon; Sandy stood watching each call come in without answering any.

  She would have to face her friend, she knew. But no
t yet.

  **

  The hammering at the door woke Sandy from a light nap. She opened her eyes to discover that she had been lying on the settee, still clothed, with the TV still playing. She never fell asleep before 10pm.

  She stood and padded across to the front door, pulling her fleece jacket around her body tighter as a chill ran through her.

  A dark figure stood behind the glass outside her front door.

  She unlatched the safety bolt and prised the door open a little, feeling spooked by the sudden disturbance from a slumber.

  “Come on Sandy, open the door!” Her sister Coral said, pushing on the door and feeling the resistance.

  “Sorry… give me a…”

  “Whoa the wind is mad out there.” Coral said. Her face beamed bright red, Sandy noticed with guilt, as she opened the door and let her sister walk in to the hallway.

  “You look frozen.”

  “Have you heard the news?” Coral asked, interrupting. Coral worked as a journalist at The Waterfell Way, the village’s only newspaper. She'd dreamed growing up of ending up in London writing for one of the national broadsheets. But when their mum’s health declined, she had remained at home to ease some burden for Sandy, two years her junior.

  “What news?” Sandy asked, her mind still foggy. “Oh… Reginald’s news?”

  “How can you be so blase?” Coral asked, pacing the living room. She moved like a ball of nervous energy. It was as if even her body was more in keeping with the London life she dreamed of than the sleepy village life she had ended up living.

  “What else can I do?”

  “Well… look, you don’t like the man, but still…”