Nobody was being themselves, Keeley thought, feeling a little glum. Megan wasn’t her usual self either, questioning the innocence of her own cousin. Ben was ever more distant, and her mother’s changes of mood were nothing short of unsettling.
“There’s an ill wind in Belfrey at the minute,” Megan said, staring out of the window at the High Street, her tone ominous. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Gerald’s murder wasn’t the last.”
Keeley felt a chill settle over her, a trickle of cold fear running down her spine. Then she tutted and gave Megan a gentle shove on the arm, forcing herself to sound cheerful.
“Snap out of it, Mystic Meg. I’m sure it had nothing to do with Duane.” She had a thought. “It can’t be, can it?”
Megan turned back to her, curious. “Why not?”
“Well, Tom said he saw a woman—young, brunette, possibly Raquel—coming out of Gerald’s house around the time of death. Duane’s not a woman, is he?”
“He has got long hair,” Megan offered doubtfully, a smile beginning to return to her face.
“Yeah, but still. I know Tom isn’t the sharpest person at the best of times, but I’m sure even he couldn’t mistake Duane for a woman. That would let the gardener off the hook too. And surely no one could mistake Edna for a young woman. Maybe I’m just wrong, and it is Raquel after all. Duane probably suspects her too, and doesn’t want to admit it, that’s why he’s acting so funny.”
“Maybe. I wonder what Gerald’s secrets were? They could provide a motive.”
Keeley nodded. She had been thinking as much herself. She needed to ask Raquel more about her former lover. She told Megan as much, and her friend looked thoughtful.
“Raquel will only exaggerate anyway. Or leave anything out that she considers embarrassing to her. I think you should talk to Edna first, and this gardener, get the real story. Maybe it wasn’t anything to do with Raquel, maybe he stumbled across something while he was working there.”
“In the garden?”
“Maybe a body?” Megan suggested, only half joking.
Keeley shook her head. “That’s hardly a reason for him to then kill him in turn,” she laughed.
“Visit Edna first,” Megan suggested, “you could make out you were just dropping in to see how she is. If she didn’t kill him, she must be grieving.”
Keeley nodded, feeling a sense of compassion for the old woman. She doubted anyone would have thought to visit her in the aftermath of her previous employer’s death. As far as she knew, Edna had no real family or friends. Her bitter nature had hardly won her a slew of friends. Without Gerald, she must be incredibly lonely.
“Maybe I’ll drop in after work.”
“It can’t hurt. The worst that can happen is she doesn’t tell you anything and gets a bit rude. You never know, she might be glad of the company.” Megan stood up and went over to a display stand housing a variety of crystal pendants. “Tell you what, have one of these carnelians.” She handed over a thin chain with a bright orange gem hanging from it. “It will give you confidence to say what you need to say, and it promotes friendship, so she will be more amenable to listening.”
Keeley fastened it around her neck, dubious but not wanting to appear rude. The last time Megan had given her a crystal it had been for protection, and hadn’t exactly proved to be very successful. Still, she didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings.
“Thank you,” she said, standing up and giving Megan a hug. “I had better go back, I’ve left Mum in the café all morning.”
“Don’t worry about Ben,” Megan advised. “If you do find out something useful, maybe he’ll stop complaining about you asking questions.”
That would be nice, Keeley thought.
“Maybe. I’d better go, pop in later?”
Megan murmured her assent and they hugged again before Keeley left the shop with every intention of going back to the Yoga Café. However, almost as though they had a mind of their own, her feet took her past the café and across the High Street, cutting through an alley to a row of old stone cottages behind. Keeley paused for a moment, then set her shoulders and walked with a determined air up the small cobbled path toward Edna’s cottage.
Chapter Seven
The door creaked open, and Edna stood there, her eyes black gimlets that bored into Keeley as though trying to drill right through her. The animosity coming from the woman was so strong Keeley could almost smell it. She was surprised, then, when Edna stood aside without a word and waved Keeley into her front room, giving a suspicious look out into the street before shutting the door behind them with such force that it made Keeley jump. She swallowed, realizing she was now in the dark little house alone with a sour old woman who hated her at best and was a vicious murderer at worst.
Once inside it wasn’t animosity she could smell, but an unpleasant mixture of cats, lavender water, and damp fabric. The small room was cluttered and everything was covered with a layer of dust that looked to be ten years old. Keeley was surprised, remembering that when she had met Edna before, in her role as the mayor’s housekeeper, the old woman had been tirelessly cleaning away and Gerald’s house had been spotless. Perhaps Edna had taken more pride in her employer’s house than her own; after all, she was on her own here. Keeley felt a twinge of compassion for the woman, and tried to hold on to it as Edna glared at her with mounting hostility.
“I wondered how long it would be before you came snooping around, trying to dig up the dirt. Didn’t take you too long, did it? Your boyfriend send you, did he? Thought you could get more out of me than he did? It will take more than a pretty face to get me to talk, lady.”
So Ben had questioned Edna. The fact that he hadn’t thought to mention it when they had gone out for dinner and Keeley had been asking him about the housekeeper made her feel odd; he was definitely trying to shut her out of this case. Or perhaps he had been offended, thinking she was telling him how to do his job when it was an angle he had already covered. Keeley sighed, wondering if her visit was a waste of time, but then remembered that Raquel had told her things she hadn’t told Ben. Who was to say Edna had told him the full truth either?
“I just wondered how you were,” Keeley said, not without sincerity. “I know you were very close to Gerald. And if I’m here on anyone’s behalf,” she continued honestly, “it would be Raquel’s rather than DC Taylor’s.”
Edna scowled.
“That jumped-up little tart? I told him to steer clear of her, said she was nothing but a gold-digging little hussy, but he wouldn’t listen. Turned him against me, she did, sweet-talking him and saying how I really should be taking it easy at my time of life. Just trying to get me out of the way.”
“That must have been awful,” Keeley said. She realized her sympathy was genuine; for all her bristling hostility, Edna was really just a lonely old woman, if a little bitter. And twisted? Keeley had to remind herself that lonely or not, there was still every chance the sinewy old lady before her had killed her once-beloved employer.
“Why would you care?” Edna looked at her through narrowed eyes, her every pore oozing suspicion. Keeley decided to be honest.
“Can I sit down?”
Edna looked surprised, then frowned, then shrugged and motioned toward the battered old sofa of an indeterminate color that might have been dark blue, or green, and was covered with a faded throw. Everything in the little house looked old and shabby. Surely Gerald should have been paying Edna enough to keep her to a decent standard of living? Keeley sat down carefully on the edge of the sofa and a black and white cat appeared as if from nowhere, jumping on her lap and meowing loudly at her. Keeley went to stroke it behind the ears and then thought better of it as the cat fixed her with a look even more hostile than that of its owner. Edna sat down on a small wooden chair opposite, wincing as she did so, and the cat curled up on Keeley’s lap at the same time, looking at her as though daring her to move it.
“The thing is,” Keeley began, leaning away from the animal lying on her
legs and now kneading her jeans with its claws, “I just don’t think Raquel did it. I know I’ve never exactly seen eye-to-eye with her, but for some reason, I believe her.”
“I don’t think it was her either,” Edna said. Keeley was surprised; she had been expecting the housekeeper to blame Raquel at the earliest opportunity. “As awful as that girl is, I don’t think she would have the guts to do it.”
That struck Keeley as an odd expression, as though someone had to be brave to commit a cold-blooded murder, as though it were a commendable thing. She looked down at the cat on her lap and the closed front door, which Edna was sitting directly in front of, and felt trapped.
“Do you have any ideas who did?” she asked, her throat feeling tight. “How about that guy who did his gardens for him? John? Apparently there was some trouble there.” Edna sniffed with contempt.
“He was no better than he should have been, jumped-up young man, tried to say I was interfering with his work, just because I didn’t like all his newfangled ideas for the garden. Then Raquel was always sniffing round him. Gerald was right to let him go; I told the man as much when he came to pick up his tools.”
That was interesting. “There wasn’t anyone else who might hold a grudge?”
Edna shook her head. “No. Gerald was a wonderful man. Until the end, when he got his head turned by that floozy, he was the finest man you could ever meet.” The old lady’s face softened, and Keeley remembered Darla previously telling her Edna had been in love with her employer for years. She was going to have to tread carefully with her next question.
“Raquel mentioned that Gerald had a few secrets in his past. A child he doesn’t see? Was there still any animosity with the mother perhaps?”
Edna’s head jerked up, her eyes furious. The cat dug its claws harder into Keeley’s leg, making her yelp.
“I knew you just wanted to snoop! Didn’t you learn your lesson last time, coming round trying to dig up dirt?”
During her investigations into Terry Smith’s murder, Keeley had discovered that Gerald had been blackmailed by the man. When she had confronted him, Edna had defended her employer with her usual vehemence and let Keeley in on a few home truths—it had been Edna who had revealed Darla’s infidelity to her. Keeley hoped the woman didn’t know any more Carpenter family secrets.
“I don’t want to dig up anything,” she said in what she hoped was a soothing voice. “I’m just wondering if perhaps Gerald had any enemies from the past? As you said, everyone in Belfrey was very fond of the mayor.”
Edna looked a little placated, tipping her head to one side like a bird as she thought about Keeley’s words.
“That was a very long time ago. He got some little floozy pregnant, and had to pay her off when she threatened to tell his wife. As far as I’m aware, no one has heard anything since. Silly little tart, she was.” Clearly it hadn’t occurred to Edna that her former employer—then very much married—had any part to play in that drama.
“Do you know where she was from? What happened to the child?”
“Bakewell. She had a girl, found some silly sod to marry her and gave the child his name. I only know because Gerald still sent money to her every year, then when the girl would have been about fourteen, it started being sent back. That was eight years ago. It’s old news.”
“Perhaps the girl found out about her real father and decided she didn’t want anything from him, as he hadn’t bothered with her,” Keeley mused. Edna looked furious again.
“Gerald would have been an excellent father! Unfortunately Mrs. Buxby could never have any children.”
All the more reason why the mayor wouldn’t have wanted his wife to know about his extramarital affair, Keeley thought. Sleepy little Belfrey certainly had a steamy past.
Still, Edna was right, it seemed like old news, not any reason why the mayor should be murdered now. The old woman’s show of loyalty to her employer, and her obvious physical frailty, indicated that it wasn’t her either. But then, who?
“Did you tell Ben—sorry, DC Taylor—about this child?”
Edna tutted. “No. And I wouldn’t be telling you either if I didn’t now know Raquel knew. You had better tell her not to be blabbing it around the village, or I’ll scratch her over-made-up eyes out.” Edna looked every bit spiteful enough to do just that, and Keeley revised her last thought that Edna was incapable of murder.
“I think it might be best if you tell DC Taylor,” Keeley said, trying not to flinch as Edna leaned forward in her chair menacingly. “After all,” she continued in what she hoped was a reasonable tone, “I’m sure you want the murderer brought to justice, and any lead could be useful.”
Edna shook her head. “I wouldn’t betray his confidence,” she said, and averted her eyes from Keeley, though not before she caught the look of utter anguish in the old woman’s eyes. She must have really loved him.
“It must have been hard for you,” Keeley said with genuine sympathy, “when he let you go after working for him for so many years.” Especially if it was because of Raquel.
Edna looked at Keeley with a forlorn expression in her eyes, that was gone as soon as it arrived to be replaced by one of utter fury. The old woman stood up, her hands balled into fists at her side, suddenly seeming to dominate the small room. The cat dug its claws into Keeley’s thighs with such force that she yelped again and pushed it off before getting to her own feet, facing Edna. The cat ran to the corner of the room before turning to hiss at her.
“What are you trying to say?” Edna said through her teeth in a tone remarkably similar to the hissing of the cat. Keeley stared at her, bewildered and more than a little unnerved by the sudden change in the old woman. She looked every bit capable of murder now, every nerve in her body appearing taut and bristling with anger. Keeley noticed how sinewy her arms were, and suspected Edna was a lot stronger than she might first appear. There was certainly nothing frail about her now.
Edna took a step toward Keeley, who stepped back and realized the sofa was behind her. She twisted to the side, stepping away from the woman and looking toward the door. A fluttering feeling of panic rose in her chest; she had been in a similar situation last year, confronted with the murderer of Terry Smith. She inhaled deeply through her nose to calm herself, reminding herself that that was over, that she was safe.
She would have felt a lot safer if Edna wasn’t opposite her, visibly bristling with barely contained anger.
“You think it was me?” She said through lips pursed so tightly they were almost blue. Her sharp teeth showed, giving her a feral look.
“I didn’t say that,” Keeley said in a soft voice, as though soothing a child.
“But you think it. You think I killed him?”
Keeley opened her mouth to deny the accusation, but her own innate honesty made her pause, and Edna read that as the confirmation she needed. Letting out a guttural sound, the old woman launched herself forward, hands and nails outstretched in front of her. Keeley caught her wrists, but not before Edna’s nails, sharp as claws, had come into contact with her cheek.
“I’ll kill you!” Edna shrieked, struggling against Keeley’s grip. Mustering her strength, Keeley spun the old woman around by the wrists so her back was to the sofa and then shoved her back against the cushions as hard as she could before running to the door. She barely registered the loud knock on the other side before she wrenched it open, blinking against the rush of sunlight into the dark room.
In the doorway, the light framing him like a halo, stood a very shocked Ben.
Chapter Eight
“So he arrested her?” Megan handed Keeley a mug of suspicious-smelling herbal tea. Megan brewed her own, and was always a little cagey about precisely what was in them. Keeley took a tentative sip, relieved that the dominant taste seemed to be raspberry.
“Yes, hauled her off to the station. He looked furious. The only thing is, I suspect it was as much at me as at her.” She touched the small bandage on her cheek where Edna had drawn
blood, hoping it wouldn’t leave a scar. Megan had given her a poultice of lavender and tea tree, and some German chamomile cream to help it heal. She had also offered to perform a “quick cleansing ceremony, so Edna’s aura doesn’t attach to yours,” which Keeley had declined, trying not to sound as bemused as she often felt by Megan’s beliefs. She had to remind herself that some people would describe yoga as such. Each to their own, after all.
Keeley looked around at Megan’s cottage. For all that her friend’s talk about auras often baffled her, there was no denying the calming energy in her house. Rather than the kaleidoscope of colors and pungent smells that was Crystals and Candles, the house had a light, airy feel with its white walls and blond wood floors, the light glinting off the large crystal dream catcher that hung from the wooden beams on the ceiling. The interior—minus the dream catcher—reminded her of Rose Cottage, her ill-fated former home, and how cramped she was now living above the Yoga Café.
In the same place as the last Belfrey murder. A violent shudder went through her, and Megan looked at her with concern.
“Are you feeling all right? You’ve gone as white as a ghost.”
“I’m a bit shaken up,” Keeley admitted. Edna launching herself at her had brought back memories of the attack earlier in the year, and now she couldn’t seem to rid herself of morbid thoughts about both murders.
“Well, I’m not surprised, I’d be shaken up too if old Edna had gone for me like that. Good on Ben for taking her in. Are you going to press charges?”
“God no, she’s an old woman.” Ben had arrested Edna and phoned for WPC Kate Turner to come and take a statement from Keeley. Keeley had relayed the conversation, leaving out the part about Gerald’s child. She wanted to tell Ben about that herself, and had felt more than a little slighted that after making sure she wasn’t badly hurt, he hadn’t spoken to her since. Although she knew he had been busy questioning Edna, she also knew that Ben was angry at her. He had asked her to keep away, and she had done the exact opposite. She relayed her thoughts to Megan, who sat down next to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
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