Her eyes flew open, and as she felt the unease rise up her chest from her stomach she began to breathe slowly again, inhaling and exhaling in a three-part breath technique she taught her more anxious clients. As she felt herself relax, she tried to weigh up the likelihood of that being true. Anyone who had killed an old woman like Edna must be desperate. Whatever it was she had known, it had been enough to kill for. Surely an illegitimate child wasn’t as serious as all that?
But no matter how rational she tried to be, that sense of unease continued to nag away at the edges of her mind, the fear gripping and refusing to let go. Eventually she fell into a fitful sleep, broken by images of Edna lunging at her, while a shadowy figure stood in the background raising a sharp weapon.
A noise startled her fully awake and she sat up, sucking in air, to find Darla peering over her with a mixture of concern and irritation.
“Sleeping in the evening, dear?”
“It’s practically dusk,” Keeley mumbled in her own defense, swinging her legs over the bed and getting up, finding her mother’s presence suddenly cloying and wanting to be away from her.
“I shut the café early as it was quiet and you hadn’t been back. I thought you were only going to see Megan. You could have let me know what you were doing, Keeley.”
Her mother was right. In the aftermath of the attack from Edna, Keeley hadn’t really given a thought to the café or Darla.
“I’m sorry. Where have you been?” she asked, wondering if her mother had heard about Edna. It would be all over Belfrey soon. She only hoped the fact of her visit and Edna’s arrest hadn’t made the gossip mill, but knew that was unlikely. She sighed as she thought of the barrage of questions that would no doubt await her from her customers tomorrow.
“Oh, around,” her mother said vaguely, waving her hand in the air. Realizing she seemed to have no idea what had happened, Keeley filled her in, leaving out any mention of the mayor’s extramarital shenanigans, watching Darla’s eyes go large with shock.
“Well, I always thought she was a disagreeable old bat, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her. I would be less surprised if it had turned out she had been the one to have murdered Gerald.”
“That’s what I had been wondering,” Keeley admitted, thinking over her mother’s remark. She wasn’t the first person to assume Edna would have been capable of doing someone serious harm. It was quite feasible, then, that whoever killed Edna had done so because of a grudge of their own that had nothing to do with the mayor at all.
But then, that would mean there were currently not one but two killers at large in the local community.
“Did this sort of thing happen when you first moved here?” Keeley asked her mother. Her own memories of a childhood and young adulthood in Belfrey were of a picturesque but rather dull town in which very little happened. That certainly hadn’t been the case since she had returned.
Darla looked as though she were considering the question.
“No,” she said at last, a faraway look on her face, “I don’t ever remember anything like this going on. There was very little crime, really. Your father’s shop got broken into once; someone stole all of his best mince. There were always things going on behind closed doors, though; not quite murder but plenty of gossip. Domestic matters, you know.”
“And affairs,” Keeley said quietly, thinking of Gerald and his mysterious love child, then she realized what she had said as her mother’s face flushed.
“I didn’t mean that,” Keeley said, but her mother was walking off into the bathroom, her face an inscrutable mask.
After their initial phone conversation, in which Keeley had found out more about her mother in twenty-seven minutes than she had in the preceding twenty-seven years, the subject of her mother’s infidelity as a young bride, before Keeley’s conception, had never been raised again.
Except, that voice nagged at her again, she didn’t believe in coincidences. Edna, it seemed, knew quite a few secrets. Perhaps lots of people had reason to kill her?
Keeley grabbed her jacket, overwhelmed by the day’s events and all its possible implications.
“I’m going for a walk,” she called to her mother as she made her way downstairs. Darla didn’t answer, but she hadn’t expected her to. Her mother had been acting strangely ever since she had arrived, and her vagueness about her whereabouts also struck Keeley as odd. Still, she had other things on her mind rather than her mother, and she hoped a brisk walk would clear her head. Normally she would take to her yoga mat, but the smallness of her apartment coupled with the late summer heat and the presence of her mother had disturbed her equilibrium.
Once outside the café, she had no wish to walk along the High Street and possibly run into a barrage of questions. News spread fast in Belfrey, and Edna’s murder wouldn’t stay quiet for long. Of course, no one but Ben, Megan, and Kate was supposed to know she had been there, but who knew who could have been watching? She shuddered at the thought that Edna’s killer might have been watching her.
Instead she walked along the path that led behind the café and toward the Water Gardens. Set alongside the Ashbourne River, the beautiful garden with its Chinese-style pavilions and peacocks were a popular tourist attraction. At this time of day, though, they should be both quiet and peaceful.
But even the serenity of the waterfront couldn’t soothe her racing thoughts. Keeley sat on a wooden bench, watching the swans float past her, the water rippling behind them, and wished she could join them in the cool water. Gnats flew around her head, irritating her. They reminded her of her time studying yoga in India. Every day in morning meditation the flies had made a beeline for her fair skin and hair, and it had taken her weeks before she could learn to ignore them. “Accept what is, don’t try to change it,” the teacher had admonished when Keeley had swatted with fury at the insects buzzing about her head. She felt that same irritation now and stood up, sighing. There would be no peace to be found in the most idyllic of surroundings when her emotions were so disturbed. She could do with a good hour on her mat, but without the presence of her mother. Perhaps Darla would go out again tonight on one of her mysterious jaunts.
She needed to talk to Raquel. The other woman might not have even heard about Edna’s murder yet, and would no doubt be wondering about the outcome of Keeley’s visit.
Keeley walked back up the path toward the Yoga Café, then continued along it until she reached a small row of stone cottages. One of them, with a painted pink gable and a shiny red sports car outside, stood out like a sore thumb. Raquel’s. Keeley walked up the path and knocked sharply on the front door, hoping that Raquel was in and admonishing herself for not checking the diner first.
She needn’t have worried. Raquel opened the door on the first knock, looking flustered and, Keeley thought, more than a bit angry.
“Has something happened?” Keeley asked. Raquel grimaced.
“I thought you were the kids from up the road. They keep knocking my door and then running away before I can answer it. It’s their new favorite pastime. That and shouting ‘murderer’ at me in the street.” Although she sounded furious, Raquel looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Duane said you’d been getting some trouble,” Keeley said as Raquel held the door open and she stepped inside. The cottage was immaculate, but then it would be. Raquel employed a cleaner.
“It’s getting beyond a joke, Keeley,” Raquel said, then her eyes lit up. “Have you found out something? Do you know who it is?”
She hadn’t heard about Edna, Keeley realized. She took a deep breath.
“You might want to sit down for this,” she said. Raquel’s eyes went wide as she obeyed, perching on the edge of her white leather couch, her enviously brown legs folded elegantly underneath her.
“Edna’s dead,” Keeley said, wincing at her own abruptness, the impact of its reality again crashing over her. She needed to sit down herself, and she sat down next to Raquel, who had gone white, her eyes like dark sauc
ers in her face.
“What? How?”
“She was murdered, earlier today.” Keeley said quietly. Raquel went from white to gray, then flushed pink.
“Well, it wasn’t me,” she snapped, “I was in the diner all day.” Keeley felt taken aback, not having expected that reaction.
“I didn’t actually think it was,” Keeley said carefully, reminding herself that Raquel was clearly under a lot of stress at the moment. “I was wondering more if you had any idea who it might be? If we assume it’s the same killer…” She let the suggestion hang in the air, watching Raquel go white again.
“Who would want to kill Edna? I mean, she was an evil old hag, but surely she couldn’t have had long left.”
Keeley felt her mouth drop open at the callousness of that remark, and shut it again quickly, taking a deep breath before she continued, reminding herself that she had agreed to help Raquel because she wanted to see justice done, not because the other woman was a nice person.
“Perhaps she knew something she shouldn’t? Duane told me that Gerald had a secret daughter; I’m surprised you didn’t mention it yesterday.”
Raquel shrugged.
“I forgot all about it, it didn’t seem that important. I mean, it was years ago, he’s never even met her. Surely you’re not going to drag that all up? Honestly, Keeley, I thought you were supposed to be good at this sort of thing.” Raquel sniffed, as though she couldn’t quite believe how disappointing Keeley had turned out to be, and Keeley felt herself stiffen. Why was she even bothering to help this woman? But it wasn’t just for Raquel, she reminded herself, it was for Gerald and Edna and the whole of Belfrey, really. As obnoxious as Raquel was, she didn’t deserve to get stoned in the street.
“We need to look at all angles here,” Keeley said with more patience than she felt. “After all, there isn’t a lot to go on. Did Gerald have any more secrets that you know of?”
“I don’t think so.”
“There has to be someone who has reason to have a grudge against both Gerald and Edna.” Keeley sat up straighter as she remembered what Edna had said about John.
“The gardener! Edna said she had an argument with him herself; did you witness that?”
Raquel grimaced. “I heard it. She had a vicious tongue on her, that woman. Come to think of it, half of Belfrey has probably got some motive or other to kill her. I was upstairs with the window open, and John was collecting his tools. I heard him say something to Edna, and then she just started screeching at him. I thought she was going to scratch his eyes out.”
Keeley lifted a hand to the scratch on her own face. She could well believe that.
“Did you hear what she said to him?”
“Some of it. She told him he was a cowboy, that he was trying to swindle Gerald out of money, that he hadn’t done a proper job. She said she was going to make sure he never worked in Belfrey again.”
Keeley thought about that. It sounded like an empty threat, but to a man struggling to support a new family, who had just lost his job—well, who knew what slight was enough to spur a murderer into action? It seemed like a flimsy motive, but she had little else to go on, and who knew, maybe he had stumbled on something of importance concerning Gerald and his housekeeper. It would be worth talking to him.
There was just one problem.
“It can’t have been him, though. Tom saw a woman leaving Gerald’s house.”
Raquel made a derisive sound through her nose.
“Tom said he saw me, and you don’t believe that,” she pointed out.
That was true enough. Keeley nodded. It would give her something to do, rather than twiddling her thumbs waiting for Ben to get in touch. Edna’s attack and subsequent death had shocked her, and the best way she knew to deal with that was to keep going and do something useful. Her mother was at the flat, preventing her from doing a yoga session in peace, and she had no cooking to do, so investigating it was.
“I’ll go and talk to him. In fact, I might even go now; it’s evening time, he’s likely to be home. From what I can remember, he doesn’t live too far away.”
“It’s a bus ride away. I’ll drive you, if you like, and wait for you round the corner or something.”
Keeley looked at her in surprise. “That’s kind of you, thank you.”
Raquel gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ve got nothing else to do. And you are helping me, I suppose.”
While Raquel got herself ready, Keeley went through the local directory to find John’s address. She wondered if she should call first, in case he wasn’t at home, but decided against it. What was she going to say? Oh hi, I just wanted to know if you killed the mayor and his housekeeper, or if you might have any idea who did? Can I come over so we can discuss it? Better to just take her chances and turn up, and hope she didn’t get the door slammed in her face.
Keeley soon wished she had declined Raquel’s offer to drive her when the red sports car roared off well over the speed limit, with Raquel casually checking her lipstick in the side mirror.
“Er, do you not think you should slow down?” Keeley asked, watching the cottages whip past at an alarming rate. The car got even louder as they went up the hill.
Raquel looked straight at her.
“Honestly, Keeley, you’re still a scaredy cat aren’t you? I remember you never wanted to go on the scariest rides at the fair.”
“I don’t like heights,” Keeley said, then closed her eyes as the car veered dangerously near to a tree. “Raquel, please keep your eyes on the road at least?”
Raquel sighed, but she did turn her attention back to the road and slow down until she was only double the speed limit, looking annoyed at Keeley’s criticism of her driving.
“How are things with Duane?” Keeley asked, trying to distract herself from the feeling that she was about to die in Raquel’s shiny red sports car. She regretted it when Raquel again turned her head fully to face her, which resulted in the car veering off slightly to the left. How on earth had she ever passed her driving test? Perhaps the rather wealthy Mr. Philips had pulled a few strings, or Raquel’s driving skills had seriously deteriorated.
“Duane?”
Raquel sounded annoyed, and Keeley wished she hadn’t asked. The last thing Raquel’s already erratic driving needed was for her to start getting stressed out.
“I just meant, it’s nice that you two are friends again; that he’s supporting you through this.”
Raquel sighed, but thankfully kept her eyes on the road.
“I think Duane would support me even if I had done it,” she said with rare insight. “I ought to appreciate him more, I know I hurt him, but he’s just not my type.”
“Supportive, buff, and handsome isn’t your type?” Keeley asked with a chuckle. Raquel shrugged. “He’s just so … young. Unsophisticated.”
She means not wealthy, or important enough, Keeley thought, knowing that it was true even as she felt mean for thinking it. Duane had never had much of a chance with Raquel, really.
“Ben wasn’t my type either,” Keeley pointed out. Raquel snorted.
“Oh please, Keeley, you couldn’t stop mooning over him at school. None of us could.”
“I meant when I came back to Belfrey,” Keeley said, feeling herself blush as she remembered her high school crush on Ben. “I thought he was going to be a jerk. And I think he thought I had something to do with Terry Smith’s murder.”
“Not the last time he was wrong then,” Raquel said with more than a touch of bitterness. Keeley bit her lip to stop herself from jumping to Ben’s defense. She couldn’t tell Raquel that Ben had confided in her about the pressure being put on him by his superior; or that he too was beginning to doubt Raquel’s guilt.
“This is difficult for everyone,” she said instead, aiming for diplomacy. It would be even more so, now that he had another murder to investigate. Would he question Raquel again? It seemed likely, given that she was the main—only—suspect in Gerald’s murder. No wonder Raquel
had reacted the way she had to Edna’s death. Keeley looked out of the window at the scenery—currently going by too fast—that surrounded Belfrey. It really was a beautiful place, something she hadn’t really appreciated growing up. A few years in the hustle and bustle of London and later New York had left her grateful for the rolling countryside she had grown up in, but she had also learned that it wasn’t as peaceful as its rolling green hills and chocolate-box cottages made it appear. In the distance, the huge gray cliffs of Matlock swooped up to kiss the sky, which was darkening to the soft purple of twilight. Matlock had a wilder beauty than Belfrey, but really the whole of Amber Valley, nestling in the heart of England, was one of the most visually stunning places Keeley had ever seen. She had just taken it for granted as a child; had walked to school countless mornings without ever raising her head to look at the sights on the horizon. For a moment she felt an intense clutch of gratitude for her hometown, and then anger toward whoever it was who was currently bringing such fear and mayhem. It almost seemed impossible that in the midst of such glorious natural wonder, anyone could be mean and twisted enough to run around committing murders. She wondered if Ben, investigating local crimes on a daily basis, ever felt the same.
“Ben was always pigheaded, even at school,” Raquel said, jolting Keeley out of her reverie. Keeley didn’t answer, thinking back to her school days when she had been little more than Raquel’s shy, chubby sidekick. She had been invisible to popular boys like Ben Taylor—or so she had thought anyway. Ben had confessed to her when they had been reunited that in fact he had had a crush on her too. That wasn’t something she was about to tell Raquel, who would no doubt take umbrage at the fact that Ben had taken very little notice of her either.
“We were all different at school,” Keeley said, although she often wondered how much of that shy, chubby girl remained inside her. And Raquel? If Keeley was brutally honest, Raquel didn’t seem to have changed very much at all.
“Well, you’re a lot thinner now,” Raquel said, seeming oblivious to Keeley’s answering wince, “but I don’t think you changed that much.”
A Death at the Yoga Café Page 12
