“Oh?” said Keeley, bracing herself for a barrage of insults.
“You were always clever, and you never had to work to make people like you; they just did.”
It was Keeley’s turn to take her eyes off the road and turn to Raquel, staring at her open-mouthed.
“I was always really jealous of you,” Raquel said almost matter-of-factly. Keeley blinked in shock. This was turning out to be one of the most bizarre days ever. She went to say something, then let out a little shriek as Raquel swerved the car sharply to one side, causing Keeley to be thrown against the door, her seatbelt cutting into her neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Sorry,” said Raquel, getting the car on to a more even keel. “There was a hedgehog.”
Raquel was saving hedgehogs? Recent events really had softened her.
“And I’ve only just had my car cleaned.”
Or maybe not.
They spent the rest of the journey in silence, Keeley still mulling over Raquel’s words. The idea that Raquel, who she had felt so inferior to as a teenager, had ever been jealous of her back then, before she slimmed down, got a career, and finally bagged the best-looking boy at school, was as unsettling as it was flattering.
“That’s it, up there,” Raquel pointed to a weatherworn stone cottage nestled in the hill above them. “I’ll park just round this corner, you’ll have to walk up.”
“Okay.” Keeley took a few calming breaths, steeling her nerves. Although she thought it unlikely that the gardener was really the killer, he was the only suspect left, and once again she was walking into an unknown situation alone.
“If I’m not out in thirty minutes, phone Ben,” she said. Raquel raised her eyebrows.
“Won’t he be angry you’re here?”
“Thirty minutes,” Keeley said firmly, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. Inhaling deeply, she made her way up the steep path toward the house. She paused outside the front door, lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated as she heard a baby crying from inside, then raised voices. Great. The last thing she wanted to do was walk into another drama. She looked over her shoulder back down the hill, wondering for a moment if she should just go back and tell Raquel no one had answered. She could come back on her own tomorrow, after a decent night’s sleep and time to think about everything that had happened.
Her innate honesty won out, and she knocked, albeit lightly. The voices stopped, then she heard footsteps approaching the door. She smoothed her hair down, trying her best to look calm and even professional.
John opened the door roughly, a thunderous look on his face that softened to confusion and then recognition as he saw Keeley standing there.
“Miss Carpenter? From the café?”
“Yes, that’s right. How are you?” she asked cheerfully.
“Er, I’m great, thanks,” he said, an obvious question in his voice, but too polite to ask her what she was doing there. Keeley took a deep breath.
“I wanted to talk to you about the time you were working for Mayor Buxby. If it’s not a bad time,” she added, wincing as the baby let out a high-pitched squeal. John grimaced, and she noticed how exhausted he looked.
“No, it’s just Arabella, she screams for hours at the same time every night. The doctors say it’s colic, but all the gripe water in the world isn’t making any difference. We’ve just got to wait for her to grow out of it.”
“That sounds tough,” Keeley said with sympathy. John nodded, then narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “What’s this about? Has he sent you? I already told that hag of a housekeeper I never stole those tools.”
Keeley’s eyes widened. He didn’t know?
“Erm, not quite. The mayor’s dead.”
John went white. Surprise or guilt? she thought. He leaned forward and looked down the path, as if checking no one had overheard, then stepped back and opened the door for her.
“Come in.”
For the second time that day, Keeley stepped into the house of a potential murderer, alone. Still, she reasoned as John closed the door behind her, this time was different. Raquel was waiting for her, and John’s wife and baby were here.
“Come through to the kitchen so we don’t disturb Mary and the baby,” John said. He showed her through to a small but neat kitchen, pulling two chairs out at the old wooden table that sat in the middle of the room, taking up most of the available space. “Now what’s this about?” he said as Keeley sat down. She looked at him, hoping her expression didn’t betray her suspicion. Could he really not know?
“Mayor Buxby was found dead a few days ago. Murdered in fact.” She watched his face closely, but he showed no signs of anything other than genuine surprise. He sat back in his chair, blinking.
“Really? By who?”
“Well, we don’t know.”
John frowned. “So what does this have to do with me?”
“I’m just trying to get an idea of what was going on with the mayor in the weeks leading up to the murder.”
“Right. I suppose your boyfriend’s on the case?”
Keeley nodded, feeling guilty as she realized that John must think she was there with Ben’s full knowledge—even on his request.
“It’s caused quite a stir in Belfrey, as I’m sure you can imagine. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it.”
John shrugged. “I’ve been working away for the last few weeks. I just came home two days ago.”
“Oh? Where are you working?” Keeley tried to sound innocent. If John could prove where he was working, that might well give him a solid alibi for the night of Gerald’s death.
But not for Edna’s. She wondered if she should tell him about Edna’s murder, then decided to wait and see if he slipped up. He had been less than complimentary about the old woman at the door, she remembered.
“Down in Birmingham. It was a big job—landscaping for residential homes. I was lucky to get it, after the smear campaign that bastard started. Sorry, I know he’s dead, but there was no love lost between me and him.”
“What happened?” She wondered how different his version of events was going to be from Raquel’s. John sighed and leaned back in his chair again, resting one foot on the opposite knee.
“Where to start? It was a nightmare from start to finish. He moaned about my prices, kept changing his mind about what he wanted doing then trying to get me to lower costs by cutting corners—which I don’t do, I like to do things right. Then that housekeeper of his was constantly breathing down my neck, complaining I was making a mess and watching me like she thought I was going to steal something. As for his girlfriend…” John broke off, shaking his head.
“Raquel? What about her?”
“Yeah, that was her. Young, dark hair. One of those girls that’s all tits and makeup. She was flirting round me something terrible, and I tried to be polite-like, tell her I was flattered but I’m married. Thanks but no thanks, you know? Tried to be nice about it. She was bloody persistent. Next thing I know he’s accusing me of harassing her and throwing me off the property. I didn’t even get to pick up my tools.”
It was what she had expected, Keeley thought, in terms of what had transpired between him and Raquel. On that point at least, she found herself believing him.
“So when did you have the argument with Edna—the housekeeper?”
“A few days later when I went back for my tools. She tried to accuse me of stealing them, said I was taking things from the shed. Bloody load of rubbish. I only ever use my own tools,” he said with some pride. “She was threatening to blacken my name, I didn’t think much of it, until the next two jobs I had in Belfrey all of a sudden canceled. I don’t know how much clout that old bag had, but the mayor certainly would. Really worried, we were. Behind on the mortgage, new baby … thank God for this Birmingham gig.”
Keeley couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even as she thought that it might well be enough of a motive for revenge.
“That must have been a
wful. You must have been really angry.”
“I was. I would have killed him myself if I had had the chance, trust me.”
Keeley felt shocked. It seemed such an insensitive thing to say in the wake of the news. Was he trying to bluff her, to cover the fact it really was him?
“What about Edna?” she asked gently.
“The housekeeper?” John looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“She was found dead earlier today,” Keeley said, watching him closely for his reaction. He stared at her.
“She’s dead? As well?”
If he was lying then he was very good at it. “Yes, she was murdered too.”
John shook his head, looking shocked, then he leaned forward across the table and she wondered what he was about to say.
She never got to find out, as the front door knocked loudly, making them both jump. John got up to answer it, just as his wife called through, “John? It’s that detective from downtown.”
Ben. Keeley jumped to her feet, feeling her cheeks catch fire. She had to get out of here.
“Oh, here’s your other half,” John said sarcastically. He must think they were trying to set him up. He went out of the room and Keeley looked around for an escape route, running to the back door and praying it wasn’t locked.
It wasn’t, and she was running across the small garden and jumping over the hedge before they could come back, running through the alley and back down the hill, hoping Ben wouldn’t spot her. As she ran toward Raquel’s car she saw Ben’s parked just across the road. Had he seen Raquel? She wrenched open the passenger door and all but threw herself into the car.
“Go, go,” she panted. Raquel started the car and took off, staring at Keeley.
“Please keep your eyes on the road,” Keeley pleaded, “but don’t slow down.”
“Okay, okay. What happened up there, did Ben see you? I saw his car pull up and ducked down; I don’t think he saw me.”
Thank God. Keeley relayed what had happened to an incredulous-looking Raquel.
“You just ran out? Oh my God, Keeley, what will people think? But what did he say? Did he do it?”
“Well, if he did he was hardly going to confess, was he? I didn’t get the chance to question him about Edna, but it sounds as though he may have an alibi for Gerald’s murder.” She wondered how long it would take to get to Birmingham and back; if John had been staying in a hotel on his own while he was away, then in fact his killing Gerald might be plausible—and he could use the trip as a cover.
Keeley repeated her conversation with him to Raquel, though she glossed over his assessment of her. Keeley wondered if his version of events were true and if Raquel felt at all guilty, knowing her lies had resulted in his dismissal.
“He’s an out and out liar. He was all over me,” she said. Obviously not.
They drove back in silence, until Raquel pulled up outside the Yoga Café and turned to Keeley.
“So now what? Are you still going to help?” Her usual demanding tone was replaced by one of pleading, and Keeley sighed. Ben was going to be furious at her for this. She should have stayed; she had had every right to be there, instead of panicking and bolting like she had. It was too much to hope that John wouldn’t tell him.
“Yes. Let me get a decent night’s sleep, and I’ll reevaluate where we are tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Keeley,” Raquel said, and she sounded like she meant it. Keeley turned to her in surprise but Raquel was already looking out of the window and getting ready to pull away. Keeley got out, gave her a little wave that went unseen, and let herself into the café, letting out a long, deep breath she hadn’t been aware of holding.
Chapter Ten
Keeley was about to go up the stairs to the flat when she heard a car and thought Raquel had forgotten something. But as she looked out of the window she saw Ben outside on the drive getting out of his Mercedes. He looked grim, and her heart began to beat a tattoo of anticipation in her chest. John had told him, of course he had, and she cursed herself for having run off the way she did. She opened the door to let him in and went to go into his arms automatically, then stepped away as she felt him rigid and unyielding against her, a cold feeling of dread coming over her as she saw the inscrutable expression on his handsome face, his usually full mouth pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t just angry, she realized, he was furious.
“Is your mother upstairs?” he rapped out his words. “We need to talk privately.”
“Yes she is. We can stay downstairs in the café if you like,” Keeley said, trying not to let her anxiety show in her voice as she reminded herself she had done nothing wrong. She pulled out the nearest chair and sat down, taking a few slow breaths as Ben sat opposite her and put his palms flat on the table, a gesture she recognized. It was as though he was about to question her, like she was under suspicion herself. She felt a flicker of irritation.
“What on earth,” he said, emphasizing every word, “did you think you were doing at John Steele’s?”
Keeley swallowed, running a few plausible scenarios through her head before settling on the truth.
“I wanted to ask him a few questions about the murder.”
“I gathered that. He seemed to think you were there with my knowledge—well, until you bolted anyway.”
Keeley squirmed in her chair, embarrassed at her actions.
“I never told him that.”
“I bet you let him think it, though.” Ben shook his head, looking exasperated. “Keeley, what were you thinking?”
“I was just asking a few questions,” she said, hearing the defensiveness in her own voice. “It’s not against the law.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” His tone was dry. “But why were you asking questions? I asked you to keep out of this.”
“No, Ben, you told me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s what this is about? You trying to prove some kind of point? This isn’t a game, Keeley; people have been killed.”
“I know that,” she snapped, feeling her own anger rise. How could he think she didn’t understand the importance of it, when a woman she had been talking to just a few hours ago was now dead? “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”
“Then don’t act like one,” he snapped back. They both sat glaring at each other until Ben spoke again, a note of weariness in his words. “This is about Raquel, isn’t it? I passed her car; I know she dropped you off. She asked you to help, and you just couldn’t say no.” He sounded sarcastic, and Keeley felt herself get hot with indignation.
“Ben, she’s really suffering. Kids have been throwing stones at her in the street, for God’s sake. And you said yourself she could end up a scapegoat for this. I was trying to help.”
“Help who? Not me. Since when do you care so much about Raquel?”
Keeley sighed. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been asking herself the same question.
“It’s not that it’s her, specifically. I just hate any kind of injustice.”
“You think I’m being unjust.” He crossed his arms, giving her an offended glare.
“No,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “but as a police detective, your hands are tied a bit, aren’t they? Whereas as an amateur, well, there’s a bit more freedom to ask questions and risk looking daft.”
The look on Ben’s face left Keeley under no illusion that he did, indeed, think she was daft.
“Well, it needs to stop. Now.”
“Excuse me?” Keeley widened her eyes, unable to process what she was hearing. Ben had never spoken to her like this.
“I said, it needs to stop.”
“I’m not one of your suspects,” she said, aware that she was beginning to raise her voice and Darla might hear them, but at the same time feeling too angry to care. “You can’t tell me what to do. Just because I asked a few questions.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said dismissively, and Keeley felt her ego bristle at that.
“No? Wel
l considering you were right behind me to question both Edna and John, I was obviously on the right track, wasn’t I?”
A muscle twitched in Ben’s jaw.
“From now on, Keeley, keep out of this. Or…” His words trailed off and he turned his face away from her. Keeley felt a stab of sudden panic.
“Or what?”
He didn’t answer her, and it dawned on Keeley that there was something badly wrong, and part of her had no wish to know what that something was. She leaned toward him, trying to keep the worry from showing on her face, but couldn’t stop the rising panic as he stood up from the table, folding his arms and looking out of the window as he spoke. Anywhere but at her.
“I can’t do this anymore, Keeley.”
She frowned. Her brain refused to comprehend what he meant and her words came out in a rush.
“The case? Of course you can, you’re a great detective, Ben. It probably just all seems a bit much right now, with the shock of Edna’s death. God knows, it’s knocked me for six too.” Even as she spoke, the knowledge dawned on her that that wasn’t what he was trying to say.
“Not the case, Keeley. Us.”
Keeley felt the color drain from her face.
“Ben? What do you mean?”
She stood up and reached for his hand, feeling the sting of rejection as he pulled it away from her. He was staring out of the window so she could only see his profile, refusing to meet her eyes. The pulse was jumping in his jaw again, a sure sign that he was emotional and upset, but when he answered her his voice was like ice.
“This, us. Our relationship. I think we need to take a break.”
Keeley blinked away hot tears.
“You’re breaking up with me,” she said, her tone sounding oddly flat. It had been a statement, not a question, but he answered her anyway, the nerve in the side of his voice jumping furiously.
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
Keeley held her breath, waiting for him to say something else, her mind scrabbling to make sense of his words. Questions ran through her head, but she said just one word.
“Why?” There was the horrible ring of pleading in it, and she closed her eyes, feeling tears again, this time threatening to spill out onto her cheeks. She tried to practice her deep breathing techniques, but her chest and throat felt tight and constricted.
A Death at the Yoga Café Page 13
