by Agatha Frost
“What happened in Scotland?” Jessie asked, a confused expression on her face.
“Nothing,” Julia and Sue replied in unison, having sworn not to mention the murder they had solved several weeks ago during a spa trip to Scotland, which their gran had won as part of a radio contest.
“Who are your suspects?” Sue asked, draining the last of her raspberry lemonade and shaking the cup for a refill. “You must have quite a few by now.”
“I wish I did,” Julia said with a sigh as she walked around the counter with the freshly pressed lemonade. “It seemed Anthony wasn’t in short supply of people who wanted to kill him.”
“It had to be somebody who knows about the painting,” Jessie said. “So that could be practically anybody in the village the way people ‘round here talk.”
“We know Rosemary and Gareth know about it after what I heard this morning,” Julia said, pulling out her notepad to read the things she had scribbled down. “And Jerrad, obviously. I don’t know if Maggie knew about the painting.”
“She could have still killed him though,” Jessie suggested as she tossed the cloth down and took the seat across from Sue. “I saw people do the craziest things on the streets when they were drunk, especially on vodka. It always made them so angry.”
“I totally forgot about that,” Sue said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “After you told me about Maggie’s story, I remembered a text Debbie sent me. I never put two and two together until last night when I was in bed going through my messages. My storage was full, so I was deciding which ones to delete. Ah, here it is! ‘You’ll never guess who just turned up at my door drunk as a skunk’ with the crying laughing face emoji. That was at half ten on the Saturday night. I was asleep, but I woke up at four to throw up. Lime trouble.” Sue paused to rub her stomach before continuing. “I sent her a message saying ‘Omg! Who?’ with the confused face emoji at four minutes past four, and she replied ‘Ceramic Pug Maggie! Came in and crashed out on my couch and then just jumped up and left ten minutes ago!’ with the shrugging girl emoji and the cocktail emoji, so I replied ‘Omg! No way!’ with the shocked face emoji, and then she replied –”
“Alright!” Jessie cried. “We get it! I can’t take anymore.”
Sue pouted, locked her phone and tucked it away before crossing her arms and sulking.
“It rules her out,” Sue said. “Anthony died before midnight, and she was at Debbie’s between half ten at night and four in the morning.”
“That’s when he died, but that’s not when he was murdered,” Julia whispered, drumming her fingers on the counter as she hovered over Maggie’s name with the pen. “Whoever poisoned him did it over a long period of time. She had access. It just means it wasn’t her at the scene of the crime.”
“What if Timothy poisoned Anthony and then poisoned himself?” Jessie suggested, her finger tapping thoughtfully on her chin. “Romeo and Juliet style, except everybody is dead when they say they are.”
“You know Romeo and Juliet?” Sue asked suspiciously.
“Julia made me watch the film,” Jessie replied, staring down her nose at Sue in a way only Jessie could. “The one with the dude from Titanic.”
“That doesn’t count!”
“It totally counts.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Julia butted in before a full-scale fight broke out. “It’s a good theory, brilliant in fact. It just doesn’t feel right. I looked into his eyes, and I don’t think he would try to frame me in the process.”
“Who else knows about the painting?” Sue asked, staring off into the corner of the café.
“What painting?” a voice asked through the open door.
They all turned and watched as Brian ducked inside, a sheepish smile on his face. Sue looked like she was about to bolt and make for the door, so Julia hurried around and stood between them, smiling kindly at both of them.
“Thanks for coming, Dad,” Julia said, apologising with her eyes to her sister. “That is actually a question I was hoping you would be able to answer. Tea?”
“Yes, please.”
Julia quickly made him a pot of tea. She put it on a tray with a cup, saucer, milk, and sugar, before remembering what he had told her about the sugar. She quickly removed it and carried it to the table, which he had taken directly next to Sue’s. She was trying her best to look in every direction apart from his.
“So, you want my antique expertise?” he asked as he pulled off the teapot lid to check if the tea had steeped. “I can’t say I’ve been asked for that in a while. What’s this painting? Something you’ve found in your attic?”
“Not exactly,” Julia said, pulling up the chair across from him and catching Sue’s eye to let her know it was okay to speak. “We don’t actually know what the painting is, or where it is.”
“Is this connected to Anthony?” he asked as he poured himself a cup of tea.
“You know the painting?” Jessie asked.
“No, but everything seems to be connected to him at the moment, which is why I guessed you called me here.”
Julia smiled her apologies. She wondered if a small part of him had thought she had called him to talk about what had happened at Sunday dinner. That was currently the bottom of Julia’s priorities list, even if she had noticed it was a good opportunity to get her sister and father in the same room again.
“What does it look like?” he asked. “Who painted it?”
Julia looked at Jessie, who looked at Sue, who stared down at her nails.
“I need a manicure,” she whispered absently.
“We don’t know,” Julia said, pursing her lips at her baby sister. “We don’t know anything other than that it could sell for nearly a million pounds, and it’s worth slowly poisoning a man for.”
“A million?” Brian replied, sucking the air through his teeth. “Not many paintings fetch that. It has to be something special by one of the greats. That narrows it down slightly.”
“Do you think you would be able to make some calls?” Julia asked hopefully, nodding her head, feeling like she was clasping her fingers around one of the final puzzle pieces.
“It won’t be that easy,” he said after sipping his tea, ripping that puzzle piece away from her. “Anthony didn’t exactly work by the book. If he were buying a painting to sell it, he wouldn’t have been going through the proper channels. Do you know who the previous owner was?”
“Remember how you gave me Timothy Edwards’ name?” Julia asked, the name sticking in her throat. “He was poisoned yesterday. I’m certain it’s connected to this painting.”
“Edwards, you say?” he said, furrowing his brow and looking down at the teapot. “Edwards. Edwards. How do I know an Edwards? I got Timothy’s name from an old friend, but now that I think about it, I know an Edwards of my own. I’m sure the name rings a bell.”
Julia stared hopefully at him and waited for a grand revelation. After less than a minute of thinking, he shrugged and resumed his tea.
“Have you asked Rosemary if she knows anything?” he asked, setting his cup back onto the saucer. “From what I can remember she wasn’t all that bad at antiques. She had style and taste, and that accounts for a lot. You can buy something worthless and give it worth by the way you position it or frame it. She used to help out in the shop with your mother when I lacked inspiration.”
Sue suddenly sat up straight in her chair at the mention of their mother. She whipped her head to face him to let him know he shouldn’t have dared to speak about their mother. Julia pleaded with Sue with her eyes to calm down, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.
“I overheard Rosemary saying they would never find the painting,” Julia said, hoping the detour would give Sue a moment to calm down.
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t know what it looks like,” he suggested as he filled his teacup again and added more milk. “Or at least who painted it.”
Julia sat back in her chair, realising he was right. She stood up and hurried behin
d the counter to grab her car keys and coat.
“I won’t be long,” she said to Jessie. “Sue will stay and keep you company, won’t you, Sue?”
Sue grumbled and nodded, not looking up or speaking as she obsessed over her nail beds once more.
“Dad?” Julia called as she opened the café door. “Are you coming?”
“Oh,” he mumbled, draining the last of his tea before standing up. “Right. Am I coming with you?”
“You’re the expert,” Julia said.
“I suppose I am,” he replied with a nod as he hurried after her. “See you later, girls.”
They both grunted back, neither of them seeming able to communicate like proper human beings when the time called. Ignoring that, Julia unlocked her tiny car and she set off towards Rosemary’s cottage for the second time that day.
When they were outside the cottage, Julia was surprised to see a removal van parked outside, and she was even more surprised to see that they were taking things into the cottage, instead of out.
They jumped out of the car and followed the movers through the open front door. The men carried an ornate chair up the stairs, but Julia and her father slipped through to the bright, open-planned kitchen.
“Julia?” Rosemary exclaimed from the stove where she was stirring something in a pot. “I was just making lunch. Brian, is that you?”
Rosemary turned off the gas and squinted at Julia’s father.
“It’s me,” he said. “Long time no see.”
“What has it been?” she asked with a chuckle. “Twenty-five years? Or even longer? I haven’t seen you since – well – you know.”
Rosemary’s eyes flickered sympathetically to Julia. She knew exactly what Rosemary was talking about, but she let it glide over her head because she had more pressing things to discuss.
“I’ll make some tea,” Rosemary mumbled as she shuffled over to the kettle to distract herself. “Still take two sugars, Brian?”
“Katie’s got me on the no-sugar thing,” he said, patting his small stomach. “Diabetes scare.”
“Ah, yes,” Rosemary said, grinning over her shoulder. “The younger model.”
Unlike most people, Rosemary didn’t look offended that Brian had married a woman almost twenty years younger than him. Instead, she almost looked proud. It took Julia a moment to realise there was probably a similar age gap between Rosemary and Jerrad. It sent a shudder down her spine. Not because of the difference in age, but because Rosemary seemed pleased with the man she had managed to catch. Julia wanted to tell her there and then that no matter how much younger Jerrad was, she deserved far better, especially being such a stylish and vivacious woman.
They took the tea through to the conservatory, and Julia stopped in her tracks when she saw Barb sat in one of the wicker bucket chairs, staring out at the garden while the young nurse from Oakwood painted her nails red. Unlike when she had seen her at the nursing home, her thin grey hair was out of its bun and flowing down her shoulders. It was so long it rested in her lap.
“Barb, you remember Brian and his daughter?” Rosemary asked jovially as she set a cup on the table next to her mother-in-law.
Barb looked Brian up and down, a strained smile twisting her lips. When she spotted Julia, she smiled a little easier, but there was still a flicker of confusion at their visit.
“Barb’s moving in for a while,” Rosemary said, the smile growing from ear to ear, her cheeks blushing a little. “Thinks I need the help.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Barb said as she looked down at her freshly painted nails. “Yelena, will you be a dear and fetch my blood pressure pills from upstairs? I think I’m due a top up.”
“Of course,” Yelena said with a soft smile, her Eastern European accent sticking out. “One moment.”
The tall and pretty young nurse excused herself from the room, smiling at Julia as she passed.
“Yelena was kind enough to leave Oakwood to be my private nurse,” Barb explained when she met Julia’s eyes after she had watched Yelena hurry down the hallway and up the stairs. “She’s a lovely girl. You find the Ukrainians are very grateful for the jobs.”
Julia was a little shocked when nobody picked up on her casual racism. If it had been her gran, she would have corrected her immediately, but she held her tongue because it wasn’t her place.
Rosemary pulled two more chairs from the side of the room, and she took the one next to Barb where Yelena had been sitting. Julia and her father sat across from them, awkwardly sipping their tea as they sat in silence. She was almost glad when she heard Yelena padding down the carpeted stairs, if only for something to break the silence.
She returned with a packet of pills in her hand, from which she popped out two. She passed them to Barb, who slotted them between her lips with shaky hands. She sipped a little of her hot tea before tossing her head back. Without the safety of her chess-playing friends to surround her, she looked frailer and much older than Julia first remembered.
“I’m surprised you’ve left Oakwood,” Julia said after sipping her tea. “You seemed to enjoy it there.”
“They’ll keep my room open,” Barb replied with a smile as she reached out and grabbed Rosemary’s hand. “I might not have been close with my son, but Rosemary and Gareth are the only family I have left now.”
Rosemary smiled sweetly while glancing down at Barb’s bony fingers. Julia wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but Rosemary seemed to want to do nothing more than pull her hand away.
“There is a purpose to our visit,” Julia said as she rested her cup on the window ledge. “We hope you could help us with some information regarding Anthony.”
“Information?” Rosemary asked, a shaky smile covering her lips. “About what?”
“A painting,” Brian jumped in. “A valuable painting that your husband bought and intended to sell for an incredible profit. Do you know anything about that?”
Barb didn’t react, instead looking at Rosemary, whose lips were shaking out of control as she attempted to smile. She sipped her tea and swallowed hard before tilting her head and smiling a little firmer.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about a painting,” Rosemary said, avoiding Julia’s gaze and staring right at Brian. “I didn’t get involved with Anthony’s work.”
Julia almost called her a liar right then, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep quiet. If she revealed what she knew, it would out her eavesdropping earlier in the day.
Rosemary opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of smashing glass startled them all.
“What are they doing with my things?” Barb cried, jumping up and scurrying down the hallway with Yelena hot on her heels. “Not my glass vase! What am I paying you for?”
Rosemary continued to sip her tea, smiling as though nothing was wrong. Compared to the free smile Julia had seen the day after Anthony’s death, this one was as fake as they came.
“Do you know Timothy Edwards?” Julia asked, her eyes trained on Rosemary’s.
Her lips twitched, her smile freezing as she considered her response. She sipped her tea again, swallowing as though she was drinking a cup of sand.
“No,” Rosemary said, her hand patting her chest as she forced it down. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”
Rosemary put her tea on the table next to Barb’s and hurried out of the conservatory.
“She’s lying,” Julia whispered. “Why is she lying?”
“Maybe she’s found the painting?” her father theorised.
“In a couple of hours?” Julia replied with a shake of her head. “No. She was talking about fleeing Peridale this morning, and now she’s letting her mother-in-law move in. I don’t understand.”
“That’s just the kind of woman Barb is. It’s almost impossible to say no to her. I know she says she didn’t like Anthony, but he didn’t like her much either. He visited her out of guilt, even if he didn’t really understand the concept of guilt.”
Leav
ing her tea almost untouched, Julia stood up, deciding nothing Rosemary said could be trusted anymore. They slipped out of the cottage as two men heaved a chest of drawers up the stairs while Barb dictated from the top.
“If you hear anything about the painting, make sure to call me,” Julia said as she dropped her father off outside Peridale Manor. “Tell Katie I said hello.”
He assured her that he would, seeming touched by the gesture. Julia knew it was going to take more than a baby to build long since burned bridges, but it was a better place to try than any.
As she drove back to the café, she racked her brain to try and figure out the truth about what had happened on the night her café had been broken into. She felt like the answer was staring her straight in the face, but she was missing a vital piece of information that was wriggling right under her nose.
13
When Julia returned to the café, Sue was standing behind the counter flicking through a gossip magazine. She let out a yawn before looking up and spotting Julia.
“Jessie’s gone for a driving lesson with Barker,” Sue said as she flicked through the magazine. “Do you think I’ll suit this dress after I’ve pushed out the pumpkin?”
Julia shrugged. She hung her jacket on the hook in the kitchen and tossed her car keys on the counter. She smiled to herself, glad that Barker wasn’t taking his anger out on Jessie. She was an innocent party stuck in the middle of two people who didn’t know what to say to each other to make everything right.
“He asked where you were,” Sue said, slapping the magazine shut as she stretched out, letting out another yawn. “Told him you’d gone off somewhere with Dad. Wasn’t sure if you wanted him to know you were snooping.”
“I wasn’t snooping,” Julia said with a roll of her eyes. “I was just asking some questions.”
“Same difference,” Sue said with a chuckle. “He seemed pretty upset that you weren’t here. I think he wanted to talk to you.”
Julia thought back to the brief moment they had shared after finding Timothy’s body. She had buried her head in his chest, and he had put his arm around her, holding her silently until the police arrived at the scene. As soon as the scene was secured, they parted ways, and she wasn’t sure how they had left things. She hoped it would have brought them closer together again, but she also knew it was possible it was a momentary blip, and Barker might never want to touch her again.
