Paper Crafts Club Mystery Box Set Book 1-3

by Emily Selby

  'Nobody's invited me.'

  'I'm the executor, I'll bring you around. I'll speak to Sarah Bloom, the solicitor, when I meet with her this morning. The rest of the family is coming this afternoon for the reading.'

  'They still read the will out loud?' Katie was surprised.

  'Not really, but because of this whole thing, we decided to get the family together to present the coroner's verdict and the will at the same time.'

  'Will there be a lot of family?'

  'I don't think so. Aunt Phyllis didn't have any children and she was an only child. Her parents are both dead now.'

  'What about your uncle?'

  'Uncle William was the oldest of three. His sister died a few years ago. Her only daughter lives in New Zealand with her family. They aren't coming. Too short a notice to organise anything, I guess. Plus, they weren't that close to Aunt Phyllis. My mum has dementia and is in care, my dad died of a stroke last year. My sister from Gloucestershire and our two daughters are coming, though. That's the whole family. As I said, not a large gathering.'

  'Any friends? Did she have any friends beside the bunch of us in town?'

  'Not that I know of.'

  'Did you know Phyllis well?'

  Roy slurped his tea, clearly thinking before answering this question.

  'Probably better than many other people,' he said eventually.

  'Why do you think she pretended she had money?'

  'Because she always wanted to be rich. That's what my dad used to say when he got grumpy with Uncle William. From what I remember, vaguely mind, from my childhood, Uncle William had lots of business ideas. He was a bit of an artsy soul with a flair for inventions. Every now and then he would come up with some crazy idea on how to make millions. He managed to convince my dad to invest in some of his enterprises, but my mum got angry and she forbade dad to stump up any further cash. I remember their rows about it as though it was yesterday,' he said, sadly. The circles under his eyes darkened even more.

  'He was good with ideas, but not so good with execution?' Katie prompted.

  'You could say that. I think Aunt Phyllis got involved in most of his ideas. At one stage, they had an engagement and wedding gifts business. Mail order stuff, with a printed catalogue. Yeah, he was a bit ahead of his time, Uncle William. That business seemed to be going well, but then it failed.'

  'Why?'

  Roy shrugged. 'No clue. Uncle William was a bit like that. He would get excited about something, start working on it, and then dump the idea. Aunt Phyllis would nudge him to keep going. If you ask me, she was the brains behind all his operations. If he had listened to her, they would have been much better off.'

  'And Phyllis would have had the money she always wished for?'

  He grunted affirmatively.

  'Was he a good artist, your uncle? What do you think?'

  'He had raw talent, I'd say. The pictures in the church are apparently quite good. Have you seen them?'

  Katie nodded. 'Do you think they're worth a lot?'

  Roy laughed nervously. 'I should friggin' hope so. ‘Cause, I've inherited the ones in the living room and need money.'

  Katie flinched. Roy must have seen the look on her face because he blushed.

  'Oh, I didn't mean it like that. I may not even sell them. After all, they’re the only things I've left of Uncle William's work. Unless...'

  'Unless?'

  'I don't know. Unless they’ve hidden some stuff under the floor boards or somewhere.'

  'In the cellar, maybe?'

  He shot her a suspicious look. 'Why would there be anything in the cellar?'

  Katie’s heart accelerated. Her hands grew sweaty. The cellar! Of course, Mrs Dunbar had a cellar and the entrance was at the back of the house. Had Roy been in the cellar when he said he was in the shed, and was it the reason he appeared from behind the house? Didn't he have a smudge of cobweb on his shirt? Was it dirt from repotting or a cobweb from the cellar?

  'Isn't it the place where people usually hide things?' she asked, trying to sound innocent.

  'Some people do, and some people don't.'

  'Have you checked the cellar? You know, for anything your Uncle William might have left?'

  That sounded lame, and Katie wasn't surprised when Roy's brow furrowed.

  'I've got nothing to hide,' he said all of a sudden.

  It didn't make much sense, so Katie considered her next question carefully.

  'Are you able to wait for DI? Or do you prefer to—'

  'I've already told you I can wait,' he snapped.

  Clearly, the friendly chat was over. Katie stood and returned to the reception area.

  'I'll tell him you're here.'

  As soon as the team meeting ended, Katie reported that Roy was waiting. Jack talked to Roy and when he returned, he looked lost in thought.

  'All good, Jack?' Katie asked.

  'U-hm. Did you tell him I found something in the cellar?'

  'No.'

  'He went on about the cellar and nothing being hidden in it.'

  Poor Roy. He had really been taking it badly.

  'There was something else about the cellar,' she said and told him of her concerns about the smudge on Roy's shirt.

  'Interesting...' Jack said slowly. 'We've checked the cellar, of course. There wasn't much there, with one little exception. Someone must have moved an old biscuit tin, leaving it with smudged prints, probably handled through gloves. It might have been Roy. Up until now, he'd denied being in the cellar, but today, when I told him about the tin, he admitted he had gone to the cellar looking for a gardening tool.

  'A gardening tool?' Katie blinked. 'The cellar was empty, unused for ages. Mrs Dunbar didn't like it because there was no direct access to it from the house. Why would anyone keep gardening tools in the cellar? Cellars are damp. Gardening tools rust in them.'

  'That's what I thought, but Roy insists.'

  'What about the pictures? Anything went missing?'

  'No. He insists nothing has disappeared from the house. I've located her notebook and found a business card of an art dealer in Newcastle. I'll ring them to ask how much they offered her for the two paintings over the mantelpiece.'

  'That's progress.'

  'That's subjective.' He smiled sadly. 'There is one more thing I wanted to ask you about. That workshop, have you ever been there?'

  'Not inside. I dread seeing it. I don't really know what to do with it.'

  'Do you know if there is a spare key? Roy insists that the key was one of a kind. The only copy has been with the solicitor for the past couple of months at least.'

  Katie shook her head. 'I'm sorry, I don't really know much about the workshop. I know it may sound strange, giving the circumstances, but she never talked to me about it.'

  'It looks like it's been unused since William Dunbar’s death, and probably of no importance here, but I just wanted to make sure we cover all the bases. Are you going to the solicitor's office today?'

  'No, I've got to see someone at Willow Park nursing home this afternoon. It's about a cleaning job. I'm sure the will business can be done tomorrow.'

  'Let me know once you've talked to her. Her name is Ms Bloom.'

  'Will do.'

  15

  Once their conversation was over, Jack sat at the desk in the staff room, looking through what Katie recognised as Mrs Dunbar's notebook. Katie, dying of curiosity, milled around the room, looking for things to do. After she offered him a cup of tea (declined), coffee (declined), help (hesitantly declined), checked and cleared the fax machine, sorted and distributed the post and replenish the paper and ink cartridges in the printer-cum-fax machine, she gave up.

  'I'll be in my office if you need me,' she said and retreated into her little room. She left the door ajar, to hear if Jack, or anyone else called out for anything. She busied herself entering data from the remaining reports.

  A few minutes later, Jack’s voice broke through the silence. He was speaking to someone on the pho
ne. Unfortunately, at the same time, the morning shift returned from their usual patrol and the conversation was completely drowned out by their voices, and the usual hustle and bustle of lunchtime.

  The clock showed 12.31 pm - time to go home. Katie powered down her PC. She picked up her handbag and put on her jacket.

  In the staff room, Jack was talking with Chris, who was on morning duty.

  'Hey, Katie,' Jack called out as she entered the room. 'I thought you may want to know I've just got off the phone with Mrs Dunbar's art dealer. He confirmed she'd requested a valuation of two paintings in the house. That was following an offer she'd received from someone who had seen her husband's paintings or sculptures in the church. Apparently, this type of art is becoming very popular.'

  'How much did he give her then?'

  'Five hundred quid for both.'

  'Nice to have, but it would be a stretch to call it a lot of money,' Chris commented.

  Katie agreed.

  'Hardly enough to kill over. I wondered if Roy knew about it,' she added. 'Unless there is more of his artwork hidden somewhere in the house, garage or the workshop.'

  'Did Mrs Dunbar intend to sell them to the art dealer? What's the word on the Sunnyvale grapevine?'

  'I think it was more her trying to sound out if the mysterious art lover, who had approached her a while ago, was offering her a fair price.'

  'Who was he or she?'

  'I think I've found his name in here.' Jack tapped the notebook on the desk. 'I rang and left a message, but I wouldn't hold my breath. I don't think this avenue is worth exploring.'

  Katie nodded. 'What about the church’s financial situation? Have you had any luck interviewing anyone?'

  'I've had a chat with the vicar,' Chris said. 'He was away in Alnwick the day of the murder. Visiting a friend from university, apparently in connection with the church fete. He wanted to borrow the audio equipment the said friend had in the garage for the fete.'

  'Confirmed?' Jack asked.

  'Yes, I called the friend. He didn't want to talk much, he was busy. But he confirmed Reverend Miller was in Alnwick on the day of the murder. They met around 10 am and our vicar left town shortly after. He wanted to be home in time for dinner and a meeting with one of the sponsors. We confirmed that with the vicar's wife and Mrs Barnaby, the local business owner.'

  Mrs Barnaby had a large flower shop and was supplying flower decorations to the church.

  'Is the vicar off the hook?' Katie asked.

  'Apparently so,' Jack said in a way Katie didn't quite feel Reverend Miller was off the hook. But, whichever way she looked at it, only one person seemed to have ample opportunity. And, even though the motive was hard to pinpoint, the lack of alibi and strange behaviour around certain issues pointed at him.

  'Is Roy still the main suspect?'

  Chris and Jack both looked at her as though she wasn't supposed to ask anything of the kind.

  'We cannot really-' Jack said, his voice clipped.

  'I know, you can't confirm or deny, and the police are working on it' she said, trying to keep her disappointment and bitterness to herself. 'I'm sorry I might have crossed a line here. I know it's your investigation, but his behaviour is strange. What was he doing in the cellar? You don't think he was really looking for a garden tool? I think he's lying to us, to you.' She corrected herself quickly. 'But why? What does he have to hide?'

  Jack's brows shot up. Chris looked at her with his mouth open.

  'Whoa, Katie,' Chris said. 'Never seen you talking so passionately about anything. Not even the dirty mugs we leave in the sink. What's with you, lass?'

  Katie rubbed her tingling cheeks. There was something wrong with this case. And there was something wrong with the evidence they had collected, but she couldn't tell what. She might have had intuition, but she didn't have enough formal knowledge to pinpoint it. She wished she'd never dropped out of law school. She shouldn't have listened to Barry.

  'There is something that doesn't stick together here. I know Roy looks like he's the killer. And he's not telling us the whole truth, but I'm not sure he's capable of killing.'

  'Katie,' Jack's voice was back to the usual smooth baritone. 'I know it's been hard on you. And today's particularly difficult. We are working on it, trust us. I agree, Roy is hiding something. We've tried the gentle approach, and it hasn't taken us too far. There is only one way to get him to talk properly to us.'

  'Are you going to arrest him?' The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose.

  'We need to formally question him.'

  'And, you will,' she whispered, her mouth dry. 'All right then. I suppose you're just doing your job, and you're good at your job.' She said calmly, tensing her facial muscles to hold back the gathering tears. 'When are you thinking of...' Her voice trailed off, trembling. 'Bringing Roy in?'

  Jack bit his upper lip.

  'We need a warrant first,' Chris said smiling apologetically. 'We can't tell you any more at this time.'

  She left the station with frustration boiling in her. If the main door hadn’t been automatic, she would have slammed it. She felt strongly something was wrong with this case, yet, she couldn't support it with evidence. Maybe she wasn't as logical and analytical as Jack wanted, but her intuition had been correct more often than not. Why couldn't he accept it and explore her hunches? He was the one with the brains and the means to do so. He had to accept the fact that not everything in the world was logical. People thought and acted irrationally. People used emotions to drive their decisions even though it might not have been in their best interest. People weren't always reasonable and rational. She hated it herself, but this was the way the world was.

  She sat in her car, slammed the door and breathed heavily.

  'Dang it.' She stomped her foot. 'Dang it.'

  She wiped a tear from her burning cheek. How could she provide evidence for her 'hunches'? She was just an admin clerk.

  'Stop making an idiot of yourself, and stop fooling yourself,' she whispered, wiping tears that were now streaming down her face. 'You'd be better off concentrating on finding a couple of new clients, so you get off the ground again and maybe go back to studying to become a lawyer. Or a forensic psychologist. Or a police officer.' Katie took a few deep breaths until her breathing steadied again. She wiped her nose with a tissue and started the engine.

  She would go and find evidence, but for now, she had to land that cleaning job at Willow Park.

  16

  Katie woke in the middle of the night. For a second, she wondered what might have woken her, but the flashings and the unmistakable sounds coming from her phone quickly answered her question. Her watch showed 1.32 am.

  Who could be phoning her at such an ungodly hour? She reached for the phone.

  It took her a few seconds to register the name displayed on the screen was that of DI Jack Heaton. It must have been a mistake.

  'Hi, Katie speaking,' she croaked.

  'Katie, sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, but I think you should know about this.' Jack's voice sounded serious. 'Someone has set fire to your workshop. The fire brigade is here now. Everyone seems to be safe, but you need to come.'

  Fire bridge. Fire. Your workshop. What the heck...? Katie rubbed her eyes with her free hand.

  'Someone set a fire to Mrs Dunbar's workshop?'

  'Yes, can you come over with the key?'

  The key? Why did he even ask her about it? She'd told him she wasn't going to that meeting.

  'I don't have the key. Still haven't talked to the solicitor. But even if I had, I wouldn't be able to come. I can't leave my daughter home alone.'

  'I'm sorry,' he said huskily. He did sound apologetic. 'I forgot. The solicitor must be out of town and the fire fighters need to check the building. The door is massive and heavy. We just thought it would be easier with a key. But they'll have to use their superpowers. I'm sure they'll be fine.'

  She rubbed her sleepy eyes. Okay, it sort of made sense.

&nbs
p; 'Was it a big fire? Anybody injured?'

  'Not a big fire, but we have two casualties.'

  All of a sudden Katie felt wide awake.

  'Who?'

  'Barbara Cambridge was assaulted. Someone hit her over the head with a brick. She's gone to hospital, with concussion. And Roy's got some burns and bruises.'

  Katie's heart accelerated.

  'Roy? Barbara? What were they doing there?'

  'I wish I knew. Roy says that he found Barbara lying in the street, unconscious when he arrived. There was already a fire in the workshop. Someone had broken in through the window.'

  Whoa! So much for the workshop being of no relevance to the case.

  'Roy must have gone inside then, since he has some burns?'

  'Good point. Apparently, he rang the ambulance and then went to check if there was anyone else inside.'

  'Makes sense,' Katie mumbled.

  'Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around the building recently?' Jack carried on.

  Katie considered the meaning of the word "suspicious". Was Roy suspicious, given this was his aunt's property and he was the one who inherited the house? Had there been any last-minute changes to the will? Maybe she should have gone to that meeting with the solicitor instead of talking to the manager at the Willow Park? Well, but at least she got the job.

  'I've not been there since the day I discovered the body. But remember I told you I'd talked to Roy last Friday afternoon? That was when I saw him around the workshop, looking through the window. He told me he just wanted to have a peek inside.'

  'No, you didn't tell me. That's interesting.'

  'He looked just usual. I didn't notice him carrying anything or doing anything suspicious. I watched him get back into his van and drive away.'

  'Okay. Thanks.'

  His voice sounded flat. She couldn't decipher any emotion in it.

  'Barbara is in hospital, what about Roy?'

  'He's been sent to the burns unit in Newcastle.'

  'Is it bad?'

  'No idea. They'll be checking him.'

  This was getting stranger and stranger by the second. The blood in Katie's head was thundering.