A Death at the Yoga Café

by MICHELLE KELLY,

  Keeley raised a hand to her mouth. “She admitted she was at Gerald’s?” The rest of the question hung unspoken in the air between them. Did she kill him?

  “No. She says she was alone until she saw Duane this morning.”

  Keeley frowned. “How can she explain away the fact that Tom saw her?”

  “She can’t. She was just adamant that she went nowhere near Gerald’s last night.”

  “So she’s lying? Or could Tom be mistaken?” For some reason, Keeley found she truly didn’t want Raquel to be responsible.

  “Well, I wouldn’t class Tom as an immediately reliable witness, and it was dark. He didn’t attempt to speak to her, and it was across the road. It’s possible he just saw a dark-haired woman leaving the mayor’s house and assumed it was Raquel. If it ever went to court, they would pull that apart. But realistically, given the situation? It was most likely her, Keeley. I’ve just got to find the evidence to prove it.”

  Keeley sucked in her breath sharply. The situation, which had so far seemed a little surreal, now hit her in all its enormity. Raquel—school friend, rival, nemesis—could be charged with murder. And Ben thought she was “most likely” guilty. Had she been living and working next to a potential murderess all these months?

  “Did she say what she and Gerald were arguing about?”

  Ben hesitated before answering, and Keeley felt a flash of annoyance that he was so reticent with her about the details. She understood, of course, about his position and that he couldn’t just disclose every detail to her, but quite often lately Ben would discuss aspects of his cases with her, welcoming Keeley’s insight. He often commented that she would make a good detective herself. Still, she supposed that he had to be careful with this case because it was, well, personal. Even so, she couldn’t help taking it personally, as though he didn’t trust her. After all, she told Ben everything.

  “He was accusing her of flirting. With that friend of Megan’s you were talking about.”

  “Christian?” Keeley thought about that and decided it was more than likely to be true. Raquel was a notorious flirt and there was no denying that Christian was an attractive guy. She remembered the look on Suzy’s face the day before at the mention of Raquel and Christian exhibiting his work at the diner. She had looked angry, as well she might if Raquel had been all over him.

  Even so, Keeley somehow just couldn’t picture Gerald being the possessive type; he had surely known what he was taking on when he had got together with Raquel. She said as much to Ben.

  “Who knows what goes on behind closed doors? And he seemed smitten with her; perhaps if he saw her getting close to a younger man, he realized he might be in danger of losing her.”

  “He called her a gold digger,” Keeley said, thinking back to the previous afternoon, “so maybe he saw her cozying up to Christian and got nasty, realizing his money and status were the only things he could offer her. Still, it’s not a motive for murder is it? Just because he embarrassed her in the street? I know Raquel can be spiteful, but that can’t be all there is to it.”

  “I doubt it is all there is; at the moment I’ve only got her word for it. And there’s every likelihood that she’s lying.”

  Keeley studied Ben’s face. Although he was sitting close to her, leaning toward her with an easy intimacy, his face when he spoke about Raquel and Gerald was guarded.

  “You really think she did it, don’t you?”

  Ben looked at her for a long moment. “It’s bothering you, isn’t it? Why, because you know her?”

  Keeley shook her head, staring out of the window. In the hazy glow of summer evening, Belfrey High Street looked postcard perfect.

  “It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t think it was her; I can’t explain why.”

  Ben reached for her hand, turning it palm up and rubbing that palm with the pad of his thumb in a gesture that felt oddly intimate. He carried on stroking, looking out of the window in the direction of Keeley’s own gaze as he continued.

  “Often, with these cases, there is no big reason, or complicated motive, or surprise killer. The simplest explanation is usually the most accurate one. Raquel and Gerald had an argument earlier in the day, then a woman matching her description is seen leaving his house and then her alibi turns out to have been fabricated. There’s not enough evidence to charge her yet, but it’s my guess that sooner or later, there will be. I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear.”

  “But you will explore other angles?” Keeley heard the note of pleading in her tone and had to wonder why she was so intent on being in Raquel’s corner. The other woman certainly wouldn’t have done so for her.

  “I’m a detective, Keeley; I’ll explore every angle there is.” His words were light, but Keeley couldn’t help but feel she might have offended him. She closed her hand around his and leaned toward him, brushing her lips against his own.

  “I’m sorry; I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job. It’s all just so awful.”

  He kissed her gently, before sitting back and squeezing her hand.

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asked, changing the subject. “I was hoping to see you, but I think this is going to keep me busy most of the evening.”

  “I’m going to see if Mum wants to go out for that meal. Try and build some bridges. She really did try to be helpful today. She even said sorry for being mean—well, sort of.”

  Ben gave a nod and squeezed her hand again before standing up. “Okay. Well, I’ll ring you later, maybe if I get finished in time I could come and join you, if that’s not gate-crashing?” He looked suddenly apprehensive.

  Keeley stood up with him and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. God, but she loved this man. “Of course not, I’d love you to come.”

  They kissed again, deeper this time, and Keeley felt herself as usual overwhelmed by the nearness of him and his strong body pushing against hers. Just for a moment, all thoughts of murder were forgotten and everything was all right with the world.

  “I love you,” Ben whispered to her before turning to leave.

  “I love you too,” Keeley said. Ben paused, his back to her, then turned to look at her over his shoulder.

  “Keeley? You won’t get involved, will you?”

  He left before she could answer, leaving her staring after him. He had sounded concerned, worried even, and she didn’t know whether to be touched by his obvious care for her or angry at his assumption. She had become involved in the Terry Smith murder through no fault of her own; it wasn’t as though she had set out to find the killer.

  Well, not at first anyway.

  Keeley went into the kitchen to make sure everything was turned off and locked up, thinking back over the day and feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. What she really needed was some time alone with her yoga mat, and a good night’s sleep. She wasn’t likely to get either with Darla staying.

  Thinking of her mother, she heard her stilettos outside in the café and came out of the kitchen, summoning a weak smile and hoping Darla’s earlier good mood had been restored. But it wasn’t Darla who stood before her with red-rimmed eyes, quivering in anger.

  “Raquel!”

  Keeley made to go forward as if to embrace the woman, then stopped herself, knowing Raquel wouldn’t welcome such a gesture. Especially as Raquel was looking at Keeley with an expression that could only be described as rage.

  “I hope you’re happy,” the other woman snapped, tossing her mane of glossy dark hair. Even after the night and day she must have had, and with her expensive makeup streaked from crying, Raquel looked amazing.

  “Oh Raquel, of course I’m not. Would you like a cup of tea?” Keeley felt a pang of compassion for the clearly traumatized woman, but at the furious look Raquel gave her she remembered she was in fact alone in the room with a suspected murderer and felt a twinge of fear. Then the anger drained out of Raquel’s face and she sank into the nearest chair, slumping forward and putting her head in her hands. Keeley wen
t behind the counter and began to make a pot of tea, waiting for Raquel to speak.

  “I didn’t do it,” Raquel said at last, looking up as Keeley sat down opposite her with a tray containing a pot of tea and two mugs. Keeley didn’t answer, just nodded and started to pour. Raquel’s next words, however, caused her to look up in surprise.

  “You have to help me, Keeley.”

  “Me? How can I help you?” When Raquel didn’t answer, Keeley thought she understood what she meant. “Just because I’m with Ben, that doesn’t mean I have any influence over him or his cases, Raquel. He has to investigate.” And you’re the prime suspect, she finished the sentence in her head.

  “I didn’t do it,” Raquel repeated as if Keeley hadn’t spoken, her beautiful face set now in stubborn lines.

  “Then I’m sure Ben will find that out,” Keeley said, trying to sound soothing but wincing as her tone came out more patronizing. Raquel glared at her.

  “I bet you’re loving this, Keeley Carpenter. You’ve always wanted to push me out of the limelight.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said, although her voice wasn’t unkind. “And being questioned for murder is hardly being kept out of the limelight.”

  Raquel seemed to deflate a little at that, sinking back into herself. She reached for her cup of tea, wrapping her hands around it and pulling it toward her. They sat in silence for a while, both drinking tea, until Raquel gave a little sniffle.

  “I did care about him, you know. Everyone seems to be forgetting I’m actually the one bereaved.”

  “I know,” Keeley said softly, wishing there was something she could say in sympathy but knowing there were no words that could soften the blow of a sudden loss.

  “I know you saw us arguing yesterday,” Raquel said abruptly. Keeley hesitated before she answered, choosing her words carefully.

  “It looked like you were having a bit of a disagreement. There were a few people here who saw.”

  “Duane was the only one who bothered to come out and see if I was okay,” Raquel said, and Keeley felt a twist of guilt before she remembered that Duane had also tried to provide Raquel with a false alibi. She wanted to ask Raquel why she had lied, but Ben’s voice came back to her, pleading with her not to get involved, and so she looked down at her hands and said nothing.

  Raquel repeated her earlier words, this time as more of a demand than a request.

  “You have to help me, Keeley.”

  “How can I possibly help you?” Keeley hoped she wasn’t going to ask her to lie for her too. But her request was even more startling.

  “You could find out who really did it. You solved that other murder.”

  Keeley felt her mouth fall open in shock. She lifted her cup to her mouth to cover her reaction, taking a long swig, then set it down and took a deep breath before answering.

  “I don’t know if ‘solved’ is really accurate. In any case, I can’t see how I could possibly help find Gerald’s killer. I’m sure if you leave it to the police, they will find out the truth. If you’re innocent, then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Of course I’m innocent,” Raquel snapped, “but innocent people get charged and convicted for things all the time, don’t they, and now that idiot Tom has claimed to see me coming out of Gerald’s; as if anyone can believe anything that freak says.”

  Keeley winced at that; Tom was a nice guy, in spite of his unconventional fashion sense and penchant for marijuana. Even so, she had to admit Raquel was only echoing her earlier thoughts that Tom’s account may not be entirely accurate. She was beginning to wish she had never convinced him to tell Ben what he had seen. At the time the evidence against Raquel had seemed weighted heavily against her, but Keeley found that, after talking to her, she believed her first instincts had been correct. Raquel hadn’t killed Gerald.

  But if it hadn’t been Raquel, then who? Who had been the woman Tom saw? Keeley leaned forward, finding that she had so many questions the other woman might be able to answer about Gerald and who may have had reason to harm him, but then she again remembered Ben’s admonishment and she sat back, swallowing them down.

  “The police will get to the bottom of it, Raquel, I’m sure,” she said instead. Raquel glared at her.

  “You don’t want to help me; of course you don’t. I don’t know why I even asked.” Raquel stood up, wiping at her eyes impatiently, and Keeley saw that she had been on the verge of angry tears.

  “I’m sorry,” she began, but Raquel was already leaving, shutting the door none too gently behind her. Keeley watched her go, a mix of emotions warring with each other.

  Did Raquel really think that she, Keeley, could help her? It would have been an oddly flattering thought had the circumstances not been so terrible.

  She locked up, a whirl of thoughts, images, and feelings fighting for supremacy in her mind. As she walked the stairs up toward the flat, she braced herself for all the likely outcomes of Darla’s moods, and was relieved to see her in the kitchen, humming to herself as she made a sandwich.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to go out, Mum? My treat, somewhere nice?”

  Darla looked up at her and blinked in surprise, then shook her head firmly.

  “Actually, I’m going out already with an old friend in Matlock.”

  “I didn’t know you stayed in touch with anyone from Amber Valley.” Keeley was surprised, given that her mother had moved back to London as soon as possible after George’s death and had never spoken about Belfrey in favorable terms since.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, young lady,” Darla said, and then hesitated for just the briefest second. Keeley flushed, remembering the revelations of her mother’s infidelity. Mumbling a response, Keeley took herself for a shower.

  As she let the warm water fall over her, she felt some of the tension drain away, leaving her with a raw, almost scrubbed-out feeling. The combination of her mother’s impromptu visit with Gerald’s murder and Raquel’s subsequent questioning had been a lot to take in. A night in on her own might be just what she needed. Nevertheless, as she sat on the sofa and watched Darla get ready to go out, she felt suddenly lonely. Maybe she could call Megan and invite her around while she had the apartment to herself for a while; but when she tried to ring her friend’s phone it went straight to voicemail.

  Instead, after Darla left she unrolled her yoga mat and lit some incense. But even a few restorative poses only cleared her head for so long. She gave up after a while and instead made herself an omelet and settled down with a romance novel, only to find the usually delicious meal tasted like sawdust in her mouth and the words swam on the page in front of her. Sighing, she tried Megan again, this time leaving a brief message when her friend failed to pick up.

  Keeley had just switched off the lamp and was trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable on the sofa, realizing that an early night wasn’t going to be easily accomplished given her current sleeping arrangements, when her phone rang loudly. Ben. Keeley answered it, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt.

  “Hello, sweetheart, how are things?”

  “I’m exhausted,” said Ben, giving a loud yawn. “I’m just heading home now. Do you want to do dinner tomorrow?”

  “I’d love to; if you can get away from work,” Keeley said, trying not to sound petulant. She had accepted the reality of Ben’s often long working hours when they had got together.

  “I’ll make sure of it,” Ben said. “I’ve spent all evening questioning Gerald’s sisters and elderly aunt. Absolutely dotty, the lot of them.”

  Keeley stifled a reprimand, knowing that if Ben was being uncharitable about people, then he was even more stressed than he was letting on.

  “Did you find out anything?”

  Ben hesitated. “Not really,” he said, suddenly distant. “I had better go; I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.” He was gone before she could finish her own good-bye. Keeley frowned at the phone. His reluctance to tell her the outcome of his talk with Ge
rald’s family, coupled with his urging earlier for her to keep out of it, left Keeley feeling as though he didn’t trust her. As much as she tried to tell herself that was rubbish—that Ben was just being overprotective because he loved her—the feeling niggled at her as she tried to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Keeley woke with the sun in her eyes and a crick in her neck. She heard humming and sat up quickly, confused. Darla was up and awake and making toast.

  “Would you like some? I noticed you had some homemade jam in the fridge that needed eating.”

  “Please,” said Keeley, trying to hide her shock. She was beginning to wonder if her mother was experiencing some kind of midlife crisis.

  “Mind you, you shouldn’t have too much sugar; not with your thighs,” Darla said, and although she winced Keeley felt oddly relieved to hear her mother acting in something more like her usual fashion. Even so, she stole a suspicious glance at her thighs. Darla could always be relied on to subdue her hard-won body image.

  “I heard that Raquel was taken in for questioning for Gerald’s murder,” Darla said as she handed Keeley her toast and a glass of fresh orange juice.

  “Thanks, Mum. And I don’t think she’s actually been charged.”

  “Do you think she did it?” Darla asked, sitting across from her and peering at her eagerly.

  “I hope not. Did you know the mayor well?”

  Darla looked thoughtful. “Quite well. Of course he wasn’t the mayor then. Your father played bowls with him sometimes. Has anyone questioned that housekeeper of his? I’d be surprised if she didn’t know anything.”

  Keeley had all but forgotten about Edna, a sour woman of indeterminate age who had been Gerald’s housekeeper for several years and by all accounts was infatuated with her employer. She had no liking for Keeley, ever since she had asked Gerald questions about the unfortunate Terry Smith. Her mother was right; as far as she knew Edna had still worked for Gerald at the time of his murder, so surely she would have seen or heard something. She made a mental note to ask Ben, and then remembered he had been less than forthcoming about the case.