MURDER AMONG FRIENDS a totally gripping crime thriller full of twists

by JANICE FROST

  “What can you tell me about the sort of person Mark was?”

  “He seemed okay. I’ve known Adam and Phil since school. We all went to uni together.”

  “You’re a student?”

  “Sports science. I work here part time.”

  “Do Adam and Phil work here too?”

  “No. They work at the sports centre at the uni.”

  “Why do they come here then? I mean, aren’t the facilities at the university just as good?”

  “They come for football with some of our old mates from school. We hire the five-a-side pitch once a month. Adam and Phil invited Mark along to make up the numbers when one of our schoolmates broke his leg.”

  “Surnames, please? For Adam and Phil.”

  “Adam Eades. Phil Lavin.”

  “Were you shocked to hear about what happened to Mark?”

  Chase shrugged. “To tell you the truth, Mark wasn’t my sort of person. I got on with him okay but we weren’t friends. I was shocked to hear he’d died though.” After a moment, he added, “Tell you what else shocked me. Mark was a big guy. He knew how to take care of himself. His attacker must have been pretty strong.”

  “He fell awkwardly, hit his head on the sharp edge of a stone step.”

  “Yeah, I read about that.”

  “You said you played football with some friends from school. How well did Mark know the others?”

  “Not at all, really. Adam and I would have a few beers down the pub with them after the game. Mark would sometimes come along, but I think he felt a bit of an outsider. He’d often head back to the uni before us.”

  Jane nodded. “Did he ever have a run-in with any of your friends?”

  “No. There’s no way any of those lads could have killed him. I’ve known them all my life. And, like I said, Mark didn’t interact with them much.”

  “I just thought I’d ask,” Jane said. Was it worth following this up? Before she could make up her mind, a woman dressed in yoga pants and a tight white vest burst into the café and advanced on their table. Her ponytail swished aggressively as she walked. Jane sensed trouble.

  “Hi, sorry to interrupt. Chase, are you nearly finished? Only I need someone to hose down the men’s dry changing room. I can take over here.”

  “This is Jane. She’s a detective. She wanted to ask me some questions about Mark Ripley,” Chase said.

  The woman turned a gaze full of suspicion on Jane. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

  “She’s a detective. They don’t wear a uniform,” Chase said.

  “Let’s see some ID then.”

  Jane would have liked nothing better than to flash her ID triumphantly in the face of this officious woman. Unfortunately, it was at home in the pocket of her uniform jacket.

  “It’s in the car.” Would a smile help, she wondered? She thought not. Better to meet sternness with sternness. She held the young woman’s gaze until her eyes started to water. Then, something weird happened. The young woman’s face broke into a wide smile. “OMG. I didn’t recognise you, Mrs Bell. You look amazing! It’s me, Crystal Clutterbuck! I went to Ollie Granger. Then I went to college and did a sports degree. I’m one of the assistant managers here now. I’ll always be grateful to you for my C in English. I never got more than a D when I was in Mr Turnbull’s class. My parents said it was the personal tutor they hired, but I reckon it was all down to you.”

  This was the first time that running into an ex-student had got her out of an awkward situation. Jane hoped it was the start of a new trend. Fortunately, she remembered Crystal. No one could forget a surname like that.

  The question of ID seemed to be forgotten. Crystal referred to Jane’s ‘brave new career choice.’ Twelve years had passed since she’d been in her GCSE class at Ollie Granger. Easily enough time for someone to have made the transition from teacher to detective, it seemed.

  They spent the following ten minutes reminiscing about their school days. Crystal seemed to have perfect recall of details that Jane had long forgotten. Like Jane calling Harry Shore an arse in front of the whole class.

  She didn’t forget about signing Jane up either. Jane ended by agreeing to annual membership.

  She’d cancel the bank transfer as soon as she got home.

  Chapter Nine

  Jane walked into ‘Veganbites’ café to the sound of Jan holding forth on the evils of Brexit. She chose a seat next to Jan’s partner, Yvonne Howard.

  “You’re preaching to the converted, Jan.”

  Yvonne smiled. “Jane, thank goodness. Maybe he’ll get off his soap box now that you’ve arrived.”

  “Sorry I’m late. A student had to reschedule for today instead of tomorrow, and he didn’t leave until seven.”

  “No worries, you’re here now.” Frieda, the café’s owner, asked Jane if she’d like a drink.

  “Tea, please.” It was on the table in front of her in moments.

  Jane arranged her coat over the back of her chair. They had a full house this evening by the looks of it. Even Ed from out of town had made it. Not a bad turnout for a dreary January night with sleet slanting down on the back of a grim north wind. Even the floodlit cathedral had looked dreary when she’d hurried across Castle Square earlier. The weather had to be truly foul when it reduced the magnificence of an eleventh-century gothic masterpiece to a grey and barely visible blotch.

  The members of the group were her friends and neighbours. She’d been introduced to most of them by Allie, whom she’d met when she’d been enticed into her fudge shop by the delicious aromas of vanilla and chocolate. The first words Allie said to her were, ‘Bet I can guess your favourite flavour of fudge,’ which, though appropriate to the situation, wasn’t a claim you heard every day. Surprisingly, she’d got it right. “Most people go for rum and raisin, chocolate or vanilla. They don’t really know that there are zillions of other flavours.”

  Jane thought that the hardest part of selling fudge must be getting people across the doorstep, overcoming that initial resolve to resist temptation. The aromas had worked for her.

  Everyone wanted to hear about her part in the discovery of Mark Ripley’s body. “Fancy landing a horrific thing like that on your first night,” Karun said. Karun was Frieda’s husband. They had recently moved to Lincoln from London, where they had met while Frieda was doing an audit of the restaurant where Karun worked. He was training as a chef in a restaurant owned by a celebrity chef. Frieda was an accountant. They now had a six-month-old baby called Neela. Together, they owned Veganbites, a vegan café on Burton Road and venue for the book group.

  “A baptism of blood,” Yvonne remarked. She shuddered. “Rather you than me, Janie. Can’t understand why you want to do this community police thingy.”

  Allie corrected her, “Special constable thingy, and I totally get it. Jane’s been a quiet, respectable schoolteacher all her life. Now she’s going on a revenge spree to take out all the little pricks-turned-criminals who made her life hell at Ollie Granger.”

  Jane laughed. She looked around the table at this motley bunch of people, grateful that they’d welcomed her into their little community. She caught the eye of Ed Shipley. He was sipping his tea, so he crinkled his eyes by way of a smile. Ed was an artisan blacksmith. He lived in a small village six or seven miles from Lincoln where he had a cottage with a workshop attached. He’d had another life somewhere else before settling in Lincolnshire but he never talked about it.

  Allie had got talking to him at his stall at the Christmas market the year before last and had invited him to join the group. At first, he’d only turned up occasionally, but now he came most months. Jane suspected that Allie regarded Ed as a prospective match for her.

  Yvonne apologised for getting Jane’s title wrong. “I don’t suppose you can tell us about the investigation, can you?”

  “Not really.” Jane didn’t add that she couldn’t have talked about it even if she’d wanted to, because she wasn’t a part of it.

  “Finding a dea
d body isn’t the only drama our Jane has been involved in recently.” Jan explained about the assault on Ryan Brown. “How is that young man? Do you know?”

  Jane recalled her visit to the hospital first thing on the morning after the incident. Tim Sterne had written up a report on the assault. Jane had had no need to have any further contact with Ryan, but she visited him for two reasons. One, she wished to check that he was recovering from his ordeal. Two, she hoped to ask him some questions when he had a clear mind.

  Ryan had been pleased to see her. He told her that he’d intended to seek her out and thank her personally for her help. “You and your colleague.” He accepted the box of fudge she’d brought for him with enthusiasm.

  “You should really thank the young lad who scared off your attacker. His name’s Kris Dabrowski.” She told him that Kris had called the police.

  “I heard someone call out, just after he smashed my head against the wall.”

  “Do you remember anything more than you told us last night?”

  Ryan touched the back of his head where a patch of gauze covered his wound. He winced. “I don’t even remember what I told you last night.”

  “To be honest, it wasn’t much. Which is perfectly understandable.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t get a look at him. I was walking along, then next minute, wham, I was on the ground. He must have been waiting for someone to come along.” It was interesting that he regarded it as a random attack. It probably was. He hadn’t been robbed, but only because of Kris’s intervention.

  “You don’t think it might have been someone targeting you?”

  Ryan shook his head. “I can’t think of anyone who’d do something like that to me.”

  “Are they letting you out today?”

  “Yes. I survived the night, so apparently I’m not at risk anymore. Got to wait until I’m discharged, and then I need to stay with someone for twenty-four hours or so, just in case. My mum’s coming to pick me up.” He looked up and down the ward, as if hoping to see her walk in.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” Jane was acutely conscious that she wasn’t in uniform.

  “Sure. Go ahead. Doesn’t look like I’m going anytime soon.” Ryan slumped back against his pillow.

  “What were you doing before the assault?”

  “I’d stopped for something to eat after a late lecture at the uni. I went to a Chinese buffet place on the Brayford. They do a happy hour there. All you can eat for six ninety-nine.” Jane nodded. She knew the place. It was popular with students looking to fill up on calories at a reasonable cost.

  “Did you talk to anyone there? Or were you aware of anyone watching you, or following you after you left the restaurant?”

  Ryan blushed. “They sat me at a table for two. There was a girl, Kylie, from my new history tutorial group sitting at the table. We got talking.” He smiled, shyly. “We exchanged phone numbers. I think she was glad to talk to me. She said that before I came in some bloke had been pestering her, trying to hit on her.”

  “Did she point him out to you? You didn’t confront him, did you?”

  “No. He’d gone by the time I sat down.”

  “Did you and Kylie leave the restaurant together?” Jane asked.

  “Yes. We chatted outside for a bit, then Kylie was going to the cinema with a friend, so we went our separate ways.” He gave a wistful sigh. “She said she’d call me.”

  “And this bloke who’d pestered her, she didn’t mention anything about seeing him hanging around when you got outside, did she?”

  “No.” It suddenly hit him what she was hinting at. “Whoa! Wait! You don’t think he was the one who beat me up, do you? That’s messed up.”

  “I don’t know. Probably not. Ryan, do you think you could ask Kylie to call me?”

  “Sure. I’ll text her right away.”

  * * *

  “Jane?” Jan was waiting for her answer.

  “Oh, he’s fine, as far as I know. I visited him the morning after it happened. He was about to be discharged.” Approving nods around the table. They turned to the book they’d chosen for this month’s read.

  Afterwards, Jane walked home with Allie, both of them sheltering under Jane’s giant striped umbrella.

  “Ed was looking at you a lot this evening. Did you notice?” Allie said.

  “No.”

  “Honestly, Jane, you’re hopeless. He looked quite worried when we were talking about your special constable stuff.”

  “Allie, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in another relationship? I’m forty-five and I’m done with all that. I’m perfectly happy living on my own.”

  “So you say. And forty-five is no age.” Allie was in her fifties.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Ed’s about the same age as you, I’d say, give or take a year or two.”

  “Stop it. I’m not interested.” Which wasn’t entirely true.

  “Just saying.”

  They’d reached Allie’s house. Jane gave her friend a peck on the cheek. “I know you’ve got my best interests at heart but you don’t need to worry about me being lonely.”

  “Well, at least get a cat, or something.” Allie had three grown-up kids, two cats, (one a little feral) a dog and a husband, all of whom adored her — when it suited them, in the case of the cats.

  “I’m allergic to fur.”

  “Well, get one of those hypoallergenic dogs. A labrawhatsit.”

  Jane sighed. They’d had this conversation before. She loved Allie dearly but now she felt a prickle of irritation. Maybe it was this business with Mark Ripley and Ryan Brown playing on her mind. Or maybe Allie’s observations about Ed had upskittled her.

  “Give my love to Peter,” she said, and hurried inside to put the kettle on.

  Rain mixed with sleet battered against the window, loud enough to be heard above the noise of the kettle. When it had boiled, Jane heard a different sort of sound coming from the garden. She thought it might be the wheelie bin blown over by the wind. If she didn’t go out and pick it up, the contents would be strewn all over the place by morning.

  Jane swore under her breath. The last thing she wanted to do was go back out in the rain. She pulled on her wellies and an old coat that she kept by the back door and stepped outside. An icy wind stung her face and wrapped her hair around her eyes like a wet blindfold, so that she could barely make out where she was going. There was no moon and the lights of the city around her were smudgy behind a veil of sleety mist.

  The bin was upright. Her soaking was all for nothing. She gave it a kick, cursing the weather. It didn’t improve her mood.

  She stood for a moment, wondering what had caused the noise. Probably one of Allie’s cats, though they didn’t usually come out on nights like this.

  The wind was howling. She’d have to prevent the bin being blown over later on. No amount of noise would entice her out again. There was a brick she used to weigh down the lid when it was windy. It was dark, but she had a rough idea of where it would be. She bent over and swept her hand over the ground around the bin.

  A sudden noise from behind startled her. She swivelled, jarring her back. A shape, dark and menacing, loomed over her, shadowy in the icy rain.

  Her first thought was that she now knew why she couldn’t find the brick — it was in the person’s hand. There was no time for a second thought before everything went dark.

  Chapter Ten

  Steph’s fear seemed exaggerated now that she was sitting, coffee cup in hand, at a window seat in the new vegan café on Burton Road. She’d ordered a vegan breakfast and as she was the only customer, hoped she wouldn’t have too long to wait. It was already seven fifteen. By now, Elias would either be pounding the streets of outer Lincoln on his run to work, or already installed at his desk.

  She’d had another disturbed night. Cal again, this time starring as himself. He was fickle like that. Just as she’d become wary of anyone familiar who appeared
in her dreams lest they be Cal in disguise, he’d suddenly turn the tables on her. There was a need for constant vigilance.

  She’d tried turning him into a kitten, but he was getting wise to this technique. He morphed into a hellish tiger and raked at her skin with razor-sharp claws, baring his fangs and moving in to sink them into her jugular, like a voracious feline vampire. She’d awoken to find blood trailing down her arms where she’d scratched at them with her own nails, and a phantom pain in her neck from an imagined bite so real that she touched the place and was surprised not to feel a sticky residue of blood on her fingers.

  The nightmares always made her hungry. She’d ordered baked beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, vegan sausages, hash browns, and a couple of slices of toast. She hoped the food was as good as the coffee. She didn’t mind that it was vegan. Food was food, animal or vegetable.

  “More coffee?” The woman had crept up on her. “We do free refills for our regulars.”

  “This is the first time I’ve been here.” Steph looked at the dregs in her cup. “How many times do I need to come to be a regular?”

  “Well, at the moment you’re neither a regular nor a non-regular. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Thanks. It’s great coffee. You’ll definitely be seeing me again. And I’ll tell all my friends about you, though the vegan fare might be a bit of a hard sell with some of them.” She thought of PC Joey Fairbairn, who started every day with a bacon McMuffin from McDonalds.

  “It’s a win–win situation,” the woman said. “Americano?”

  “Sure. Thanks. You can just stick it in here.” Steph proffered her mug.

  “That’s okay. I’ll get you a fresh one. I’m Frieda, by the way. Me and my husband Karun own the café.”

  “Nice place. I like the décor.” The walls were painted duck-egg blue, a soothing colour. Frieda hovered. Steph supposed she’d better be friendly and give up her name too. “I’m Steph. I live near the mill. You’re practically on my doorstep.”

  “No excuse not to be a regular, then.”