by Agatha Frost
Sitting under the early spring sun, with the hum of passing people and singing birds and buzzing insects, it was all so perfect, it made Julia forget about her café. When she finished her first half of her sandwich, she turned to Barker and shielded her eyes from the sun.
“This is our third date in a week,” Julia said. “Anyone would think you were trying to court me, Detective Inspector.”
“Wouldn’t that be quite the scandal?” Barker joked, leaning in and lowering his voice. “You know the village has been talking about us.”
“Let them,” Julia whispered back. “It just shows that things have gone back to normal after these last couple of months of madness.”
“Things have certainly calmed down,” Barker agreed, before taking a bite of his sandwich, leaving behind the crust. “I spent my morning investigating a stolen tractor up at Peridale Farm. Yesterday, Amy Clark was convinced somebody had stolen her handbag, but she had just left it at bingo.”
“Does it make you miss the city?”
Barker tossed his sandwich crust onto the foil and turned to Julia, shielding his eyes from the sun as it found its midday position in the clear blue sky.
“Not one bit,” he said, smiling from ear to ear. “Besides, there are things in this village I never had in the city.”
“Like?” Julia asked, her cheeks reddening again.
“Oh, you know,” Barker said, shrugging softly. “Certain people.”
Julia laughed and dropped her head again. When she looked up, her eyes locked with two dark circles poking out from the sitting room window of her gran's cottage.
“We’re being watched,” Julia said, nudging Barker with her shoulder.
Barker turned to look to where Julia was pointing. Julia realised the two dark circles belonged to a pair of binoculars being clutched by her gran. With them both looking in her direction, the lacy net curtains suddenly dropped back into their original position. The front door opened seconds later and Dot darted across the village green, her heavy binoculars bouncing under the brooch securing her blouse in place under her chin.
“Your gran scares me,” Barker mumbled out of the corner of his mouth as Dot ran towards them.
“I’ll tell her you said that,” Julia mumbled back. “I think that’s her goal.”
Dot danced around a man walking his poodle, scowling down at the dog. When she finally made her way towards them, she slowed down and clutched her side, visibly out of breath.
“Afternoon, Gran,” Julia called out. “Doing a spot of bird watching?”
“No,” Dot said through her panting breaths. “Me and some of the girls have set up a neighbourhood watch group. Y’know, what with all of these recent murders and all.”
“Nice to know my job is valued,” Barker whispered under his breath.
“No offence, Detective Inspector,” Dot said, her hearing much better than most people would think for a woman her age. “But if it wasn’t for my Julia, there would still be two killers running around on the loose. Any of us could be next.”
Julia held back her laughter. Her gran wasn’t one to hold back, or spare on the dramatics. Barker on the other hand, was blushing and appeared lost for words. Julia knew her gran had just hit Barker where it hurt.
“What happened to your book club, Gran?” Julia asked, wanting to shift the conversation.
“Well,” Dot said, taking it as an invitation to join them on the picnic blanket. “Some of the girls weren’t too happy when we got to the mucky scenes in Fifty Shades of Grey. They didn’t realise how filthy that Mr. Grey was. I quite enjoyed it myself. Are those egg and cress?”
Before either of them could respond, she reached out and plucked a sandwich from the mix. As she nibbled on the corner of the sandwich, Barker and Julia looked awkwardly at one another, neither appearing to know what to say.
“Seen anything interesting with those things?” Barker asked, a slight shake in his voice.
“The usual,” Dot said. “I’ve been making notes. Hang on.”
Dot reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a small notepad, not unlike the one Julia made her own notes in. She wondered if her gran was trying to investigate her own case so she could steal a little of the glory the rest of the village showered on Julia.
“Eight-fifteen. Julia and Jessie arrive at the café.”
“Gran!” Julia said.
“You need protection!” Dot cried. “After what you went through when you caught Charles Wellington’s killer, you need around the clock protection!”
Julia’s fingers instinctively danced up to the fading scar on her forehead, which she had learned to conceal with her hair. It had only been two weeks since she had had the stitches removed, after being hit on the head with a recently boiled kettle while caught up in the middle of her father’s brother-in-law’s murder investigation. Her sister, Sue, was adamant Julia should talk to a surgeon to try and remove the scar, but Julia thought it added character.
“I’m fine, Gran,” Julia said, trying to laugh. “Anything else?”
“Ten-thirty-three. A red tractor speeds through the village.”
“A red tractor?” Barker jumped in. “Did you see who was driving it?”
“Of course I did!” Dot said, turning the page. “Billy Matthews.”
“I knew it!” Barker said, snapping his fingers together. “That kid has been causing me trouble for weeks.”
“See!” Dot said, stabbing her finger down on the pad. “I told you this was useful.”
“And what use could you possibly have for spying on me and Barker eating lunch on the village green?” Julia asked, tilting her head quizzically at her gran.
“Well, you know,” Dot fumbled over her words, flicking through the pages. “See here. Julia and Baker are having a date on the village green. No axe murderers in sight.”
Julia and Barker both laughed. Julia was touched that her gran cared so much, although she was sure she was just spying to see how things were going. Dot had been trying to push their relationship along faster ever since Barker arrived in the village.
“Well, I’m flattered, Gran,” Julia said. “But I’m a big girl and I can look after myself. Thanks for the sandwich, Barker, but I’m going to have to get back to the café.”
“And me back to the station,” he said, standing up and dusting the crumbs down his trousers. “I’ve got to visit the Fern More estate just out of the village. Billy Mathews’ mother might like to know what her son has been up to.”
“That estate has caused nothing but trouble since they built it!” Dot said as she peered through her binoculars at Roxy Carter, who was leaving the graveyard with her girlfriend, Violet Mason. “I protested to it being built in – what year was it? – Eighty-two? Are these sandwiches going begging?”
Barker held his hand out for Julia as Dot wrapped up the sandwiches and piled them under her arm. Julia attempted to help her gran up off the blanket but she brushed Julia’s hand away and scrambled up to her feet on her own.
“Thanks for the sandwiches, Detective Inspector,” Dot said as she turned and darted away. “Saved me a job for when the girls come around later to share notes.”
They both watched as Dot walked back to her cottage. The moment she was back inside, she resumed her position at the window, with her binoculars pushed through her lacy net curtains and up against the glass.
“Your gran is a character,” Barker said as he packed away the blanket and basket. “One of these days we’ll have an uninterrupted date.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Julia said, remembering their last date in a small country pub, which had been crashed by her sister and her husband. “If you add up all of these half-dates, we’ve almost had a full one somewhere along the way.”
“Well, if you look at it like that,” Barker said as they started to walk towards Julia’s café. “I guess we have.”
Outside the café, Julia peered through the window, where Jessie was serving Roxy and Violet. Jessie seem
ed a little happier, but her sadness was still obvious. Remembering what she had promised, Julia turned to Barker and pulled her own notepad out of her dress pocket. She flicked to a page she had specifically made for Barker and tore it out.
“Can you look into these names?” Julia asked, tucking the piece of paper into his pocket. “Three homeless men who frequented the Fenton Industrial Park have died recently, all without any real identifiable cause of death. Could you see if there’s anything else out there that hasn’t been passed onto the press? They were friends of Jessie’s and it would mean a lot to her.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” Barker said, tapping the pocket. “You’re not – investigating again, are you?”
“My days of investigating are behind me,” Julia said with a wink as she turned around and pulled open her café door. “Besides, my gran’s got that covered now. See you later, Detective Inspector.”
With even more doughnuts and coffee, Julia and Jessie returned to Fenton Industrial Park after sunset that night. The tension from their butting of heads in the café earlier had blown over, leaving behind only a slight undercurrent.
“This is far too kind of you,” Tommy said, licking his lips after finishing his doughnut. “We’ve never been as well fed as these last two days. They’re going to start hailing you as our lord and saviour soon enough. You watch!”
After everyone was fed and Julia’s equipment was locked safely in her car, they headed over to Tommy’s doorway, where the two upturned baskets were still positioned from the day before.
“Julia has talked to her detective boyfriend,” Jessie said quickly, nibbling on the edges of her nails. “He’s going to look into it.”
“Is that right?” Tommy murmured, a brow suspiciously arching.
“Well, not quite,” Julia corrected Jessie, smiling awkwardly at Tommy. “I gave him the names and I asked him to see if he could find something. Unofficially, that is.”
“Sounds about right,” Tommy said, shaking his head heavily. “The police don’t care if we live or die.”
Julia wanted to tell him that wasn’t true, but she looked over her shoulder at the dozens of people crowding around various fires, wrapped up in their half a dozen layers of clothing each. Her doughnuts and coffee seemed to have brought smiles to some of the downturned faces, but it was like putting a single stitch over a bullet hole. There was a bigger issue at play here, and the police and the government weren’t doing enough. Her heart ached knowing this was where Jessie had been living before she took her into her home.
“I wanted to ask you if there’s anything else you knew about the men who died,” Jessie said, turning her attention back to Tommy as he clutched his plastic cup of coffee for warmth, his dirty nails poking out of his fingerless gloves. “You said you found Bailey. I was just wondering if you noticed anything suspicious.”
“Like I told you yesterday, ma’dear, I thought he was asleep and then I realised he was dead, so we called for the ambulance and the police. That’s all I know.”
“And the others?” Jessie asked, edging forward on her basket. “Who found them?”
“Mac found Father Thind, and alcoholic Pete found Robert,” Tommy said, tossing a finger in Pete’s direction as he stumbled from group to group, a can of beer firmly in his hands. “Although you won’t get much from him. His mind has gone. Thinks everything is a conspiracy and aliens are coming to take him away.”
“And Mac?” Julia asked.
“He’s that young lad in the corner playing the guitar,” Tommy said, tossing a finger across the car park. “Talented kid. American.”
Julia excused herself and left Jessie with Tommy. Stuffing her fingers into the pockets of her pale pink peacoat, she approached the man as he strummed away on his guitar to an invisible audience. Leaning over his instrument, his shaggy dark hair covered his face as he played, unaware of Julia’s presence. She held back and listened for a moment as his fingers delicately danced over the strings, creating a soft melody that transported her out of the urban and stark surroundings. Tommy was right, the man was talented. How could somebody with such a gift be living in such as Fenton Industrial Park?
“You play so beautifully,” Julia said as she stepped forward. “Do you mind if I take a seat?”
The man looked up from under his messy hair, and his beauty caught Julia off-guard. She had been expecting somebody older and more rugged, but a soft, slightly tanned face stared up at her, his crystal blue eyes filled with as much melody as his music.
“Not at all,” Mac said, the thickness of his American accent taking her by surprise. “It’s always nice to have a beautiful lady to play for.”
Aware that she was blushing, Julia perched herself on the edge of the upturned crate in front of Mac. He continued his playing as he looked into her eyes. The music wrapped around Julia like a warm blanket. She almost forgot why she had come to talk to the man in the first place.
“How long have you played?” Julia asked, hypnotised by the intricacy and speed of his fingers.
“For as long as I can remember,” Mac said, smiling to reveal his dazzling white teeth. “It’s the only thing keeping me sane.”
“You could play professionally,” Julia offered as Mac stopped playing and rested the guitar next to him, leaning his arm on top of the headstock.
“I did,” Mac said, his smile wavering a little, but his gaze not breaking away from Julia. “The music industry is a fickle place, lady. I came over with the promise of a deal, but things don’t always work out the way you plan.”
“What about home?” Julia asked. “America?”
“Minnesota,” he said with a nod. “There’s as much for me there as here. My folks died when I was little and I was an only child. As long as I have my guitar, and people like you to appreciate my music, I’m a happy man. I have clothes on my back, and people like you who are kind enough to keep putting doughnuts in my stomach.”
Julia waited for his gaze to waver, but it didn’t. She actually believed that he was happy. His life was simple and his needs were as basic as a person’s got, but his smile was as genuine as a man with all of the money in the world.
“Can I ask you something?” Julia asked. “Something a little sensitive.”
“Go ahead, lady. As long as it’s something I want to answer.”
“It’s about Robert Culshaw,” Julia said, her lips trembling a little. “The banker? Tommy told me you were the one who found him when he -,”
“Was murdered?”
“So you believe it was murder?”
“Of course I do,” Mac said, leaning back and looking suspiciously at Julia. “All the folks in these parts do. The man was as clean as they come. The others, I could understand, but not Robert.”
“Clean?”
“Y’know,” Mac said, nodding his head suggestively at Julia. “Alcohol and drugs. I’m not saying the others weren’t clean. I didn’t know them all that well, but Robert was a healthy man. He wouldn’t just die for no damn reason.”
Mac ran his hands down his face, his smile dropping for the first time. It was obvious the death of his friend had hit him hard.
“Is there anything you can tell me about the night you found him?” Julia asked softly, not wanting to upset the young musician. “Anything out of the ordinary that you noticed?”
“I was busking on the high street all afternoon. It was a Saturday, so people were generous with their tips. By the time the police moved me on, I had enough for a couple of drinks in the pub, so I took my cash and my guitar and I pitched up in a dark corner and had a couple of pints. Not many, just enough to keep me warm for the rest of the night. I stayed there until they closed because it was somewhere dry. It was raining that night, so when I got back, everybody was huddled up inside the burnt out buildings. We don’t usually go in there much because it’s not safe. Wind hits that place in the right direction and huge chunks of the roof cave in. I was running across the car park to the building when I saw Robert in
his sleeping bag. He always slept in the same place, every night, unless it was raining. I wondered if he’d had some drinks too and he didn’t realise it was raining, so I went over to wake him. His eyes and mouth were open and he was blue. I knew he was dead. I ran to the phone box on the corner and I dialled 999. I didn’t notice anything else because his sleeping bag was zipped all the way up to his neck. That’s the last I saw of him.”
Mac suddenly broke off and looked down, his clasped hands pressed tightly against his lips. Julia reached out and rested her hand on the young man’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He looked up and smiled appreciatively, appearing to be holding back his tears.
“Can you show me where he was sleeping when you found him?” Julia asked. “Maybe there’s something the police missed.”
“I thought the cops back home were a joke, but yours really do – what’s the expression? Take the biscuit? It was just over there next to that empty gas canister.”
Mac cast a finger along the metal fence to a spot only a couple of feet away. Thanking him for his help, she walked over to the red, upturned canister next to the fence. She scanned the ground, but there were no signs of anything out of the ordinary. She imagined the poor man dead in his sleeping bag and her chest tightened. Closing her eyes for a moment, she inhaled deeply before looking over her shoulder to Jessie and Tommy. They were both deep in conversation, huge smiles on their faces.
Julia looked ahead through the fence panels. An unlit path ran along the side of the industrial park, winding out of view. Pushing her hands up against the fence, she tried to see where it went. As she did, the metal slats moved under her touch. She jumped back, and frowned at the fence. She ran her fingers along the panels. All of them were securely in place, apart from two that had been unscrewed at the bottom. Parting the slats, she pushed her leg through, and then her torso. Julia wasn’t a big woman, but she was fifteen to twenty pounds above average, depending on the time of year. She slipped through the opening in the fence with ease.
