The Hung Jury (A Gold and Silver Murder Mystery)

by Robert Innes

  “For a cutlery shop, perhaps,” Alex snapped. “But we’re talking about murder here. You’re doing all this on a whim. You have no proof!”

  “I’m not the only one who thinks there’s something weird going on!” Nicola protested. “You said yourself that you don’t think Rebecca did it!”

  “I don’t think that video killed the radio star either, but you don’t see me trying to get The Buggles locked up for slander, do you?”

  “Nicola? What are you doing here?”

  Nicola jumped as Gary walked towards them from his car. “Gary!” She glanced awkwardly at Alex, hoping he would jump in with something helpful, but he just stared back at her. “We were just on our way to pick up some potatoes for the restaurant. The boss likes a very specific type grown by someone round here. What are you doing here? Social call?”

  Gary glanced at the door of the Winters’ house, looking suspicious for a moment, but seemed satisfied, much to Nicola’s surprise. “I’m here on police business, actually. I can’t really say why. I’m just doing a bit of investigation.”

  “Into the Rebecca Winters case?” Nicola asked, sensing another comrade.

  “No, actually,” Gary replied. “I can’t really say what though. Police business.”

  Nicola nodded. “Did you hear the news about Dorothy Fountain?”

  Gary grimaced. “Yeah. I did.” He glanced at the door of the Winters’ house again and then back at Nicola. There were a few moments of silence, before Alex finally said, “I’ll just go wait in the car.”

  He nodded briefly at Gary and walked away. Nicola watched him leave, trying to work out if his walk was camp or not.

  Gary cleared his throat awkwardly. “How have you been? I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  Nicola’s mouth went dry. It was the last thing she had expected him to say. “Erm, good. Yeah, really good. You didn’t call me though. Have you been busy?”

  Gary scratched the back of his head, looking bashful. “Listen, the other night. I was called into work. There’s something weird going on. I can’t really go into it now, but we might be looking at something slightly bigger here.”

  “Something bigger? What do you mean?”

  Gary leant forward and lowered his voice. “We’ve got no evidence, so I can’t say anything yet, but we were called when the body of Dorothy Fountain was found.”

  “You mean it might not have been a suicide?”

  “That’s all I can say. Just try and keep yourself safe, okay?”

  Before Nicola could reply, her eye caught what she thought was a slight twitch coming from the living room curtain of the Winters’ house. But as she stared at it, it did not move again. Gary saw her expression and turned his head. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Nicola replied. She was starting to wonder if she had been thinking about the case so much, she was starting to see suspicion in things that were perfectly normal.

  “Look, I want to see you again. Believe it or not, despite your ever so slightly crazy behaviour, I really enjoyed the other night.”

  Nicola broke into a huge smile, displaying more excitement than she would have wanted to. “So did I! And I’m sorry about the wine thing, I think we must have been given an off batch. I can normally drink much more than that.”

  “Why don’t you come to mine tomorrow night?” Gary asked her, holding up a hand to stop her from babbling. “I’ll cook us something, and we can get to know each other without people you think are murderers distracting you.”

  “Sounds great,” Nicola said, beaming.

  “I’ll text you my address when I’m done here. About seven?” Gary leant forwards and kissed her on the cheek. Nicola hoped it would never stop tingling.

  She bid Gary goodbye and walked back to the car with a spring in her step, where Alex was waiting for her.

  “He’s gone into the Winters’ house,” Alex said, as Nicola climbed into the car. “What’s he doing there?”

  The notion of a second date with Gary had almost pushed where they were and what they were doing out of Nicola’s mind. Sure enough, the front door to the Winters’ house slammed shut and Gary was nowhere to be seen.

  Before Nicola could explain what Gary had said, her mobile rang. As she pulled it out of her pocket, she glanced at the clock on Alex’s dashboard. Kath was ringing her, and they had been over an hour.

  “We need to get our story straight,” Nicola said to him as she answered the phone. “Hi, babe!”

  “Have you gone to collect these potatoes from the Himalayas or something? Where the hell are you?” came the sharp reply.

  “Yes, sorry!” Nicola replied hastily. “The market was out, we had to go elsewhere for them. We won’t be long, we’re on our way back now.”

  “You better be,” Kath told her shortly, and hung up.

  “Start driving,” Nicola said to Alex. “I’ll tell you what Gary said on the way.”

  ***

  They drove to the supermarket and picked up the potatoes. By the time they finally arrived back at the restaurant, Kath was stressed, Dominic was catty, and the customers seemed more impatient than usual. As the night went on, Nicola became all the more grateful of her day off the following day, and most of all her evening with Gary the next day.

  As she was sweeping the floor at the end of the night, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was a text from Gary:

  “42 Windsor Drive, Darlingmoore. Should be about a fifteen minute drive from the restaurant. See you tomorrow. I’ll be drinking wine, you’re on the cordial. G xxx”

  Nicola sighed happily and leant on her broom staring into space. There was just a chance that she had met the man she had been dreaming of for so many years.

  9

  The next day, Nicola was walking through the town of Darlingmoore, tired but excitable. She had barely been able to sleep the night before, after managing to speak to the Winters, and everything they had said about Bernice Stockport. Even now, as she marched through the streets, trying to find the right bottle of wine to take to Gary’s house that night, her mind whirred with possibilities. She could picture Bernice waiting outside the Winters’ house, watching Rebecca leave, thinking that she now had Simon all to herself, only to knock on the door, confront him, and lose all sanity before stabbing him furiously. Then, realising what she had done, she ran out of the house and was away before Rebecca could return and find her husband ’s body. It was a perfectly fitting theory, but as it stood, one Nicola did not know how to prove.

  She was just eying a bottle of expensive looking Shiraz in an off-licence when her phone rang in her pocket.

  “Hello?”

  A male voice, talking in a quiet, urgent tone replied. “Does the name Geraldine McGuire mean anything to you?”

  Nicola frowned. It took her a second to recognise the voice as Alex. “How did you get my number?”

  “I found it in the staff book,” Alex replied hurriedly. “That’s not what’s important here! Geraldine McGuire, do you know the name?”

  Nicola put the bottle she was looking at down on the shelf impatiently. “No, I don’t know anyone called Geraldine. Why?”

  “Are you sure? You’re positive there wasn’t a woman called Geraldine on the jury for the Rebecca Winters case?”

  Nicola thought back, realising she had not known everybody’s names from the twelve-strong jury. “I don’t know. There might have been, I don’t know. Why?”

  Alex sighed. “There’s been another hanging.”

  Nicola nearly dropped the bottle she had just picked up again in surprise. “Are you serious? How do you know?”

  “Turns out she lives in the Bay. A load of sirens and flashing blue lights flew by my house this morning,” Alex told her. “Seems like gossip flies ‘round this town faster than anywhere I’ve ever lived. She was found hanging from a wooden beam in her bedroom.”

  “Oh my God,” Nicola gasped.

  “The point is,” Alex continued, “that if she was on the jury, then that means
that three people have been found connected to that case within the space of a couple of weeks, all hanged. Nicola, there’s something really weird going on here. I don’t think you should get yourself involved anymore.”

  “I can’t stop now,” Nicola whispered back, glancing over her shoulder at the cashier who was watching her suspiciously. “The Winters have promised to get me that visiting order. I’ll be talking to Rebecca in the next couple of days, all going well.”

  “Nicola, this is dangerous,” Alex hissed. “What if someone is going after people involved in the trial? You could be next. Aren’t you even a little bit worried?”

  Nicola picked up the wine bottle again and took it to the till. “No,” she said, although she did suddenly feel rather nervous. “You’re being melodramatic. I’m going to find out the truth to what happened to Simon Winters whether you’re with me or not. I know full well you don’t want to see an innocent woman rotting away in prison.”

  She was just about to end the conversation when someone walking past the shop window caught her eye. It was Bernice. She was glancing furtively around as she hurried past the shop window, holding her coat collar tightly, so that it partly obscured her face, but Nicola could tell that it was definitely her. She quickly hung up to Alex, without saying a word, dumped her bottle of wine on the counter, and ignoring the shouts from the cashier, began trailing Bernice.

  The streets were busy, and Bernice was walking at a pace. Nicola started jogging to keep up with her, a difficult task in the jeans and tight hoody she was wearing. At one point, Bernice, in one of her glances around her, almost took her eyeline directly to Nicola, who dived behind a parked car to avoid being seen. She slowly raised her head to see through the car windows to make sure that Bernice was looking ahead again. She had, but now staring at her was a confused looking traffic warden, ticket machine in hand. “Is this your car?” he snapped.

  “No,” Nicola replied, as she stood up and began pursuing her target again. “Thank God you were here. Appalling parking!” As she left the bemused traffic warden behind her, her phone began vibrating in her pocket again. She pulled it out of her jeans and put it furiously to her ear. “What?”

  “Hanging up on me isn’t big or clever,” Alex snapped. “Especially when I’m trying to potentially save your life!”

  “Shush!” Nicola hissed. “I’m following Bernice Stockport. She’s up to something, I know she is. She’s looking shifty.”

  “What do you mean? Where are you?”

  “Running through town,” she panted, almost knocking an old lady off her feet. “Sorry! I don’t know what she’s up to, but she does not want to be seen.”

  “You’re obsessed!” Alex exclaimed. “There’s more urgent matters to consider here. People are dying, Nicola. If there is somebody going around stringing up people who were behind sending Rebecca Winters down, then they aren’t going to be finished yet, in fact they’re probably only just getting started!”

  “Oh my God,” Nicola gasped. “She’s going into a funeral home!”

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Nicola replied, as she hurried across the road towards the funeral home that Bernice had just entered. “And we’ll talk about that later, right after I catch this woman in the act. Guilt has obviously taken its grip. Her ex-lover dies, someone she shouldn’t care about that much, being the money grabbing husk that she is. Why is she in a funeral home?” She grabbed the handle to the door of the parlour and pushed it open. “Unless, it’s to arrange it for her victim!”

  The entire parlour was silent. Bernice was stood in front of the counter, where a man in a sombre looking suit and tie was stood, serving her. Resting on the counter was a large wreath. The word ‘DAD’ burned into Nicola’s eyes.

  “Excuse me, Madam,” the shop assistant said reproachfully. “This is a place of respect; will you keep the noise down?”

  Nicola was still staring at the wreath, looking horrified. She glanced up at the shop assistant and realised that it was Charles, the man that she had seen Bernice dining with in the restaurant, the night she had accused her of Simon’s murder.

  “You!” Bernice snapped, tears already falling down her face.

  “Oh,” Nicola faltered, her phone still attached to her ear.

  “What?” she faintly heard Alex say as she stared at the wreath.

  “Were you following me?” Bernice cried, her eyes wide. “I’m trying to arrange my father’s funeral, and you were following me?”

  Nicola backed herself towards the door, mortified. “No, no, I was just…”

  “You listen to me,” Bernice snapped, striding towards Nicola with a long, bright red fingernail pointing straight at her face like a dagger. “I don’t know what your game is, whether you’re trying to frame me, or whatever strange ideas you’ve got about Simon’s death. But the night he died, I was with my father, in the hospital, discussing with the nurses just how much they could do for him, and realising that it was now just a case of making him comfortable! This,” she added furiously, pointing at Charles, “is Charles Bertram, an old friend of my family, and, in particular, my father, who we wanted to be the one who buried him! In fact, the night you made such a drunken exhibition of yourself, we were discussing memories that we had of him when I was growing up!”

  Nicola scrabbled around her for the door handle and pulled the door open. “I came in the wrong shop, I’m so sorry.” As she hastily made her way out the shop, she continued babbling. “Very sorry for your loss, sorry to disturb, deepest condolences, so sorry.” She slammed the door closed behind her and practically ran down the street, before reaching a bench and sitting down, wishing the ground would swallow her up. She had almost forgotten she still had her phone to her ear, when Alex spoke.

  “Wow,” he exclaimed dryly. “You really caught her red handed there. I wonder if we can persuade your new boyfriend to arrest her at the funeral?”

  “Shut up,” snapped Nicola. “I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

  “So you bloody should be,” Alex replied. “Maybe now you’ll forget this ridiculous idea about becoming a blonde-haired Poirot. When are you next seeing Gary?”

  “Tonight,” Nicola replied. “I’m going to his house.”

  “In that case, tell him about Geraldine,” Alex told her. “These deaths have me worried, Nicola. You’re in way over your head. Leave it to the professionals.”

  Nicola thought briefly of her blog. As much energy as she had put into finding out what had happened to Simon Winters, it now felt like she was heading towards a dead end. “Maybe you’re right.” She sighed. “If it wasn’t Bernice then I don’t know what to think. Maybe Rebecca really is the killer.”

  “Well, it’s possible,” Alex replied. “I’ve got to go. My break finished five minutes ago. Good luck with tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Nicola said.

  As Alex hung up, she sat on the bench and watched the world go by for a few minutes. She realised that attempting to investigate had given her what felt like a purpose for the past week, and now that had been taken from her, she once again felt like what she was; a woman in her thirties, desperately trying to make something of her life, but failing miserably. With a heavy heart, she stood up and made her way back to the off licence to purchase the bottle of wine.

  ***

  That evening, Nicola was feeling in better spirits. She was wearing an outfit she felt good in, she had managed to fix her hair in a similar style to how Alex had managed and the bottle of wine she had bought for the evening had Kath’s seal of approval when she came to pick Nicola up from her flat to drive her to Gary’s house.

  “I didn’t know you had legs,” Kath said as Nicola climbed into her car. “Look at you, actual legs! Not covered in denim!”

  Nicola blushed slightly. “Oh, stop it. Do I look alright?”

  “Yes,” Kath said, smiling. “You look beautiful. That man has a treat being brought to him. Right, let’s go. I’ve got half an ho
ur before I have to be back at the restaurant. Dominic’s in charge of things and the place will probably have burnt down if I’m much longer.”

  “Thanks for the lift,” Nicola said as they set off. “I thought it best for me not to drive.”

  “No worries. Do you think you’ll be staying the night?”

  Nicola’s heart skipped a beat. The thought had vaguely occurred to her, but she had quickly tried to forget about it, thinking she was being far too overly optimistic. “Probably not,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s only the second date, and to be honest, Kath, it’s been that long, I wouldn’t have a clue what to do.”

  “Oh, it’s like riding a bike,” Kath told her, grinning. “I just hope Gary doesn’t need stabilisers afterwards.”

  Nicola rolled her eyes, laughing. She had missed this time with Kath. She had thought it was best to keep details of her private investigations to herself, especially as they had technically gone to talk to the Winters in work hours. She could not imagine Kath being impressed with the idea of her paying Nicola to go and interrogate people. Now, she had decided to give up on the idea of being a vigilante for Rebecca. Theories were nothing without any hard evidence to back them up, and with Bernice with an apparently airtight alibi, that could easily be clarified, Nicola did not have the first clue where to look for an alternative scenario for the death of Simon Winters.

  The car journey to Gary’s house was pleasant. Kath seemed really excited for Nicola and as they got closer, Nicola began to feel more nervous by the second. They finally arrived on Gary’s street.

  “Just here will do,” Nicola said, her heart pounding.

  “Text me,” Kath instructed. “I want to know every detail. Hold nothing back.”

  “I will,” Nicola laughed. “I dunno if there’ll be anything to tell though.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and took a deep breath, clutching the wine bottle in her hands.