Amber Reed Mysteries Volume One: Romantic Comedy Mystery Series Box Set (Amber Reed Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency Mystery Box Set Book 1)

by Zanna Mackenzie

  “We don’t appear to have any real suspects. Ennis and Siobhan have their at-home alibis. Now you say the research guys have Candi confirmed as being in a nightclub in Manchester on the night Joel died. There weren’t even any leads from that business in the garage with her and the two men. We haven’t found the connection between what happened to Bert and Joel’s death. If there even is one.”

  “There’s got to be,” he says. “You need a chance to chat alone to Siobhan to see if you can get her talking again.”

  He doesn’t say anything more about my notebook and I suspect he knows what kind of things he might find scrawled across the pages should he ever get to read it.

  My phone rings and I fish it from my bag, slipping my diary back inside. Charlie gets up to give me some privacy. Clearing away our food and taking plates into the kitchen area.

  When I’ve finished the call I say, “I think we need to go and talk to Bert again.”

  Charlie frowns as he rinses a plate and stands it on the draining board. “Oh? Why?”

  “That was Adele who works behind the bar at the Wheatsheaf pub over in Wetherton. She’s heard about Bert being attacked and the rumours and concerns amongst the locals about Ennis’ place. She was worried about what’s going on and who would do something like that to Bert.”

  I lean against the worktop in the kitchen as Charlie, his cleaning up temporarily on hold, looks at me expectantly.

  “She knew someone had been appointed to look into things but didn’t know anything about how to contact you, other than the fact you’d be seen out and about with me so that’s why she rang. She says a few days ago Bert was in the pub and,” I pause for effect before adding, “so was Ryan Turston, Mitch Horton and Joel.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Bert never mentioned anything about that to us,” Charlie says looking irritated. “This could be our connection with Bert and the quarry and possibly what happened to Joel.” He wipes his hand on a cloth. “Let’s take a walk down to the gatehouse shall we?”

  Bert is back home now. Charlie has arranged for the gatehouse to be kept under discreet surveillance in case anybody tries to shut Bert up in a more permanent way this time.

  A noise, something between an extremely loud crack and a bang, reverberates through the air as I open the door of the guest house.

  “What was that?” I ask, instantly on alert. “Maybe poachers up on the hills in the woods after pheasants or rabbits? It’s happened a couple of times these past few weeks.”

  Charlie shakes his head. “That’s not gun fire. Sounded more like some kind of explosion to me.” He pushes past me in the doorway. “Stay here.”

  “What?” I move to follow him.

  “Remember our little agreement? You signed the papers. I’m in charge on this investigation. I say you stay here. Lock the door after I leave.”

  “Charlie!”

  He heads out of the door only pausing to look back at me and say, “Lock it.”

  I nod and move to do as he says, unhappy about him going out into the night alone.

  Sitting on the sofa, the iron poker from the fire’s companion set in my hand just in case, I wait for Charlie to return. It seems like forever but in reality it’s barely ten minutes before there’s a knock at the door and at the same time he shouts, “Amber, it’s Charlie. You can unlock now.”

  I open the door and look questioningly at him. He shakes his head.

  “Nothing. I made sure the main house was OK and Ennis and Siobhan are both all right. I even spoke to the guard down at the gatehouse on the phone. Nothing untoward there. Whatever it was sounded pretty close though. We’ve checked with the local guys for any calls about anything exploding, any fires or stuff but nothing has been called in yet.”

  “Strange.”

  “These noises, they’ve been happening fairly randomly over how long?” he asks.

  I shrug. “A few weeks.”

  “Right, well, I think we need to have another little visit to the quarry but first, let’s go and see Bert shall we?”

  “Everything still OK?” Charlie asks the local police guy who is on watch tonight outside the gatehouse. The man nods.

  Charlie knocks on the door, shouting at the same time to tell them who he is. It’s Tina who answers it. Clearly her mum hasn’t whisked her back to the big city yet then.

  “Hi,” she says, looking small, pale and fragile. Not like the kind of girl who’s been getting herself up to goodness knows what according to her mum. At the moment she looks more like she wouldn’t say boo to a goose. “Dad’s in the living room.”

  Charlie raises a questioning eyebrow seeking approval to go through and she nods.

  “Want a drink or anything?” she asks.

  “Thanks that would be good.” I follow her through to the tiny kitchen. She really does look pale. “Are you OK?” I ask.

  She shrugs and then reaches to fill the kettle. “Not been eating much, you know, since all this happened. Worried.”

  I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I know. It’s all been a shock but your dad is on the mend now and we have police watching this place in case…” I let the sentence trail off. Reminding the poor kid that someone might be out there who still wants to shut Bert up isn’t a good idea.

  Once the drinks are sorted I help her carry them through to the lounge. Charlie is sitting on the sofa opposite Bert who is looking distinctly uncomfortable in a wing-back chair with his feet up on a wooden stool. I don’t think his unease is solely down to discomfort from his injuries. I think it might also have something to do with the thunderous look on Charlie’s face.

  “Why didn’t you mention any of this, Bert?” Charlie is saying, reaching for the mug I’m holding out and nodding his thanks to me.

  “Nothing much to tell,” Bert glances across at Tina and looks uneasy.

  “Any chance of some biscuits to go with this?” Charlie asks, raising his mug questioningly. He wants Tina out of the room.

  “Sure,” she replies and disappears off to find the requested refreshments.

  “Bert, you need to tell us what happened that night,” I say, taking a seat next to Charlie. “I know you were all in the pub. People saw you.” I purposefully don’t say which people. I’d promised Adele I’d keep her name out of it.

  “OK,” he sighs. “I don’t usually go in the Wheatsheaf much but there was a darts match and one of my mates invited me along. I saw Ryan first. He was talking to some man I didn’t recognise. Then I saw Mitch join them. They were in the back room out of the way but I’d gone through to the Gents and that was when I saw them.”

  “Go on,” Charlie encourages.

  “They all looked over but nobody said anything. I’ve never had much to do with the Turston brothers. Both unpredictable and both trouble if you ask me. Anyway, after I’d been to the Gents I remembered I’d left my glasses in the car so went straight out to the car park. By the time I walked back through the pub the other man was gone but Ryan and Mitch were still there and this time they were talking to Joel McKarthy. They looked annoyed that I’d seen them so I got out of there and went back in the main part of the pub.”

  He pauses, taking a sip of his drink. “Ten minutes later I got a text from my mate saying his car had been playing up on the way to the pub and could I take a look at it before the darts match got going. I went back through the rear bar and there was nobody in there, but when I opened the door to the car park I heard shouting. I went round the side of the pub to see if someone needed help and that’s when I saw Mitch punch Joel in the stomach. Ryan was there too. Joel fell to the floor and Ryan kicked him. I heard Ryan say, ‘Let that be a warning’.”

  He fidgets in his chair. “And then he turned to walk away and that’s when him and Mitch saw me and knew I’d seen everything cracking off. I ran off, over to my mate who had his head under the bonnet of his car on the far side of the car park, trying to figure what was up with it. Ryan and Mitch got in a car across the other side but
they just sat in it watching me and my mate. Guess they were issuing me a silent warning and making sure I didn’t go over to check on Joel. After, oh, say, ten minutes, I saw Joel stagger from round the side of the pub and get in his car and drive off.”

  “After that Ryan started up his car but he drove across to the side of the car park where I was, which was far away from the exit. They stopped the car and Mitch leaned out the window. He said, ‘Having trouble, lads?’ and I nodded. Then Mitch added, ‘You’ll be having even more trouble if you tell anyone what you saw tonight. Or, should we say, your daughter will.”

  “Did your friend see these guys? Hear what they said?” Charlie asks, scribbling frantically in his notebook to get all the facts down.

  Bert nods. “Yeah but I swore him to secrecy.”

  “So, if necessary, we can call him in to confirm your story?”

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  “So,” Charlie says. “Despite the warning, you decided to tell someone anyway. To tell Amber. How come?”

  “Because I realised whatever Ryan and Mitch were up to might have something to do with Joel’s death. I know the guy was trouble and not well-liked but something dodgy was going on and I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you guys what I’d seen.”

  “And you thought telling me would be more discreet than going to the police or Charlie so Ryan and Mitch wouldn’t find out,” I fill in.

  Bert nods.

  “Any idea how they knew you’d arranged to meet with me though?”

  “Guess they were watching me. Thought my walking up on the moor at night was suspicious behaviour. Or maybe they were just looking for a chance to rough me up anyway. Warn me again to keep my mouth shut.”

  Tina comes back in with a plate of chocolate biscuits.

  “Thanks,” Charlie says, taking one and smiling at her. “How are you doing these days, Tina?”

  She slumps into a chair, tucking her feet underneath her. “OK,” she mumbles.

  “Well, we’ll get going, leave you to finish your evening in peace,” I say. “Thanks for the drink, Tina.”

  “And for the biscuits,” says Charlie, grabbing another one from the plate on the way out.

  “Are you going to question Ryan and Mitch?” I ask once we’re out of the gatehouse.

  “No, I’m not. I think it’s best for now if we don’t say anything to them. If we start asking more questions they’ll get suspicious and it might make them go on to best behaviour. I want them thinking they’ve got away with all this crap they’re involved in so they’ll behave normally and carry on with whatever they’re up to. We’re going to be keeping a close eye on both of them.”

  As we walk back up to the guest wing at the main house I look at Charlie.

  “Quarry again?” I ask, though I know the answer.

  He nods.

  “Quarry again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I lower myself onto a rock next to Charlie. It’s bright, breezy and cool and I have a complete day off from the paper though I’m working later at the pub. Charlie and I are up on the moors. I’m loving the chance to get my hiking boots on but this isn’t a pleasure jaunt, it’s part of the investigation. I suppose when you work for the CCIA you work every day until the case is solved. There’s no nine to five hours or weekends off.

  “So what exactly are we looking for?” I ask, leaning in closer to peer at the map in his hands

  “See these?” He points to red lines zigzagging their way around the area. “Official footpath routes which work their way around much of the quarry boundary. They’re overseen by the local authority. It’s illegal to try to block or close them off in any way so the guys at the quarry can’t stop people walking them. Even though some of the routes must allow a pretty good view down into the quarry. We’re going to walk these routes and see if we can find the best vantage point of the quarry, then we can return to the chosen spot under cover of darkness tonight and see if we can find out what’s going on here.”

  Charlie is in one of those expensive brand waterproof jackets and dark jeans, looking completely at ease with his surroundings, checking the map again, consulting a compass.

  “OK, let’s get going,” he says.

  I get to my feet and hoist my rucksack into place following Charlie as he climbs a stile and strides purposefully off across a field.

  Pausing to pull my sunglasses from my coat pocket I catch my breath at the same time. Does Charlie have to walk quite so fast? He looks as though he’s on an army route march not a gentle countryside stroll. I know we’re here on a bit of a recce to find a suitable spot for our night time surveillance but even so.

  “Out of breath already?” he teases as he stands on top of yet another stile. One foot either side of the wooden steps.

  “No,” I reply indignantly, slipping my sunglasses on. “Not at all.”

  He holds out a hand to help me up onto the steps of the stile. Was that a little tingle of something? A spark between us? No, probably just wishful thinking, my overactive imagination getting carried away with itself again.

  Pretend relationship, remember?

  “How many miles of footpaths do we have to tramp around?” I say as I jump to the ground on the other side of the stile and Charlie lets go of my hand.

  A smile crooks the side of his mouth. “I figure there’s around ten or so miles of paths around the whole of the quarry perimeter but you’ll be glad to know we don’t need to do them all today.”

  “Thank goodness for that.”

  This time, as we set off across yet another field, he walks at a slower pace so that we’re side my side. The light breeze has got up and is ruffling the front of his hair. He hasn’t shaved today either and the heavy stubble on his cheeks suits him.

  “Hang on a sec.” I haul my bag off my shoulders and pull out a baseball cap.

  “It is getting a bit breezy up here.” He nods towards the swaying trees. “We’re getting near the top of this hill now. Over the other side we should see the quarry.”

  I pull a bottle of water from my bag and take a gulp before offering the bottle to Charlie. He takes it, drinks a little and then hands it back with a smile of thanks. That smile. Again. Its effect isn’t wearing off. It still makes me feel all hot and flustered. It’s a lopsided smile, cute, friendly.

  Dangerously sexy.

  Across to our right are the standing stones, proud and dark against the blue sky.

  “Want to do a detour?” Charlie asks, nodding towards the stones.

  “Sure.”

  Minutes later we’re circling the stones. It’s years since I’ve been up here. I’d forgotten how big and impressive they are. Nine stones, each over seven foot high, stand in a circle as though they are guarding the hilltop and moorland. They always seem a little forbidding from a distance but close to they look more than creepy and with the sun disappearing behind the clouds and the wind whistling across the edge of the moor, the whole place has a distinct horror movie feel to it.

  Charlie crouches down to inspect the stones more closely.

  “Have you visited any other stone circles?” I ask, leaning against one of them and then instantly moving away due to the shock of the cold stone and a feeling of unease. Maybe leaning on the stones is disrespectful or something. I recall my childhood and the number of times we dared each other to come up to visit the stones in the dark, finding our way across the fields by torchlight. If leaning against the stones is considered disrespectful then I’m certain some of the other things these stones have witnessed go way beyond disrespect. I know of tales of couples coming up here to do much more than a spot of kissing and enjoying the views of the moors. Not just teenagers in search of somewhere private but even married couples. The stones have many rumoured magical claims to fame, including a belief they have powers when it comes to fertility.

  “A few,” Charlie replies. “One of my favourites are the Callanish Standing Stones up in the Outer Hebrides. You think today is wind
y? You haven’t truly experienced a windy day until you’ve visited some of those west coast Scottish Islands. The wind will, quite literally, blow you off your feet. Stunning beaches of white sand on some of the islands though. Amazing places.”

  “You’ve travelled a lot?”

  He nods. “Yep. Whilst I was in the army and quite a bit with my work with the CCIA.”

  “How long were you in the army?” I realise I don’t know very much about him. About his past. About his relationships.

  “Three tours of duty. Two in special ops.”

  “What made you leave?”

  “The unit I was in was disbanded, budget cuts. I’d had enough of being overseas all the time anyway, so I came home. I was deciding what to do next when I got talking to an old mate. He told me how his brother works for the Metropolitan Police in London. Said how he was seconded to work with this agency who specialise in covert stuff investigating crimes where celebrities are involved. He suggested I contact his mate, find out a bit more. I liked the idea of it. Regular police work,” he shakes his head, “it’s not for me, but this sounded different. I was put in touch with this guy and they ran various background checks on me then I was invited for an interview. Rest is history.”

  Another gust of wind whistles across the moors making me feel chilly and I snuggle into my coat. “How long have you been working for the CCIA now?”

  “Couple of years.”

  “And you enjoy the work?” I ask, carefully watching his face. I don’t need to hear his answer to know how he feels about his work. I can see it in his eyes. It’s obvious how much he loves it.

  “Yeah, it’s varied, challenging. I like that. Mostly UK-based as well which I prefer these days, but there are still a fair few assignments overseas.” He stops examining the stones and gets up. “This seems like a good spot for some lunch. If we sit on the other side we’ll be sheltered from the wind. Sound OK?”

  I’m feeling a little uncomfortable around the stones and would rather picnic somewhere else.

  All around us are smaller rocks and boulders. Are these considered to be part of the standing stones too I wonder? We move around to the other side of the hill. Charlie sits on one of the large flat rocks and pats the one next to him. “Take a seat.”