A Valentine's Kill

by Mona Marple

  A Valentine’s Kill

  Waterfell Tweed Cozy Mystery Series: Book Three

  Mona Marple

  Copyright © 2018 by Mona Marple

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  No characters in this novella are based on real people and any similarities are unintended.

  One character within this novella is named after a real person but is similar in name only. Choosing this character’s name was a prize offered on the author’s social media profiles. The character is not based in any way on that person in real life.

  For my family, who have cheered my successes and commiserated my losses always.

  For my amazing cover designer, Charlie. Thank you for taking my vague ideas and creating such beautiful cover designs!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Banana Cream Pie To Die For

  Murder Most Remote

  Thank You For Reading

  About the Author

  Also by Mona Marple

  1

  “His Lordship’s back, all right.” Dorie Slaughter said in between sips of tea. Sandy tried to withhold a smile at the older woman’s gossip as she placed a bacon sandwich on the table in front of her and attempted to retreat to the counter.

  “Hold on, Sandy, you want to hear this.” Elaine Peters said from her seat next to Dorie.

  “Oh, I’d love to, I need to finish your breakfast though,” Sandy said with a smile, then speed-walked away. Her friend and employee, Bernice, was plating up mushrooms in the kitchen.

  “Elaine’s?” Sandy asked. Bernice nodded. They didn’t get many vegetarians in Books and Bakes and the plate was missing sausage and bacon. “Don’t suppose you want to take it out for me?”

  Bernice wiped her hands on a tea towel and met Sandy’s gaze. “Not a chance, boss.”

  “Boss?!” Sandy exclaimed.

  Bernice laughed. “It’s like a witches’ coven out there, I’m staying here.”

  Sandy rolled her eyes but couldn’t argue. Everyone who had come to the cafe that morning had been buzzing with the excitement of some new piece of village gossip that Sandy had so far escaped hearing about. She loved Waterfell Tweed, but the villagers were like a swarm of locusts for news and rumours.

  “Fine, I’ll take one for the team,” Sandy said, picking up Elaine’s plate and returning to the noisy front-of-house.

  “I thought he’d been sacked.” Her sister, Coral, called across the cafe from behind the counter. Coral had joined Sandy to work the till when she had been made redundant from her job as a journalist, and she still loved digging for a new story.

  “On a sabbatical,” Dorie said. “What does that even mean?”

  “A sabbatical… well, it’s like, erm…” Elaine stumbled over her words. It was unlike Elaine to be involved in village gossip, but Sandy knew she was making an effort to spend more time with Dorie, who had been struggling with loneliness since Elaine began dating her adult son.

  “Here you go, Elaine.” Sandy said, placing the breakfast in front of her. Elaine grabbed the knife and fork and stabbed a mushroom, then placed it in her mouth and chewed. Her appreciative groans told Sandy she was enjoying the taste.

  “Sandy, you’ll know…” Dorie called as Sandy turned on her heels to walk away. “What’s a sabbatical? Or maybe it was a secondment.”

  “It’s just like a long holiday, isn’t it? A few months out away from work?” Sandy said, shrugging her shoulders to show she wasn’t sure.

  She took a moment to survey the busy cafe and allowed herself a smile. Busy days paid the bills.

  As well as Dorie and Elaine, there were at least eight other tables bustling with people, all either tucking into food orders or reviewing the menu.

  “It’s not funny.” Dorie scolded, and it took a moment for Sandy to realise that the woman was speaking to her. Her smile must have been wider than she intended.

  “Sorry.” Sandy said. She flashed a smile and then walked through the tables to the staircase at the back of the ground floor area, which she walked up into the bookshop area.

  Derrick Deves sat behind the counter, still recovering from being run over by a car. He grinned as soon as he saw her. “Come up for a bit of peace?”

  “What’s got into everyone today?” Sandy asked, then realised that her question made her a gossip talking about gossipers. “Actually, forget I said that. I don’t want to know! How’s it going up here?”

  “Dead easy,” Derrick admitted. Sandy had realised before Derrick’s injuries that she needed the upstairs till manned full-time, and with Derrick still recovering, he was the perfect person to sit there all day. “I’d rather be up and about, though.”

  “I know, and you will be soon. I’ve got a long list of jobs waiting for you.” Sandy admitted. They were missing Derrick’s pot-washing too, which he had done quicker than anyone else and with a happier heart.

  “Glad to hear it. I don’t know how people work in offices all day, sitting at a desk… it’d drive me mad.”

  Sandy shrugged. “You’re warm and comfy, I’d take it over being a builder or something where you’re outside in all weather.”

  “Bit of cold killed no one, lady,” Derrick said. Sandy raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, yeah, I guess it can actually.”

  They both laughed until Sandy heard a shriek from downstairs.

  Derrick was up off his chair in a shot.

  “I’ll go, you stay up here and rest your legs.” Sandy insisted, placing a hand on his arm. She ran downstairs to see most of the customers peering out of the shop window across the village square. Coral was amongst them, gazing out, and even Bernice had poked her head out of the kitchen. Sandy met her gaze. Bernice shrugged and returned to the kitchen.

  “What’s going on?” Sandy asked, feeling like a teacher attempting to control an unruly class of children.

  Nobody appeared to hear her. If they did, they ignored her.

  “What’s going on?” She repeated, louder. Coral turned and put a finger to her lips, telling her sister to shush. Sandy rolled her eyes, barged through the crowd, and opened the cafe door. The sun was unusually bright for so early in the year and her eyes struggled to focus for a second in the glare. By the time her sight had adjusted, there was nothing at all to see.

  Her cafe stood on one side of the village square, looking out over the small playing field which had a well-ignored ‘No Ball Games’ sign standing in its middle. As she looked out, the small bus that came through the village twice a day had stopped on the opposite side of the field, and a single man was allowing his Golden Retriever to sniff his way across the field.

  “What on earth’s got into you lot today?” Sandy asked as she returned to the cafe.

  Most of the customers had returned to their tables and several furiously sipped drinks before they cooled.

  “Will someone answer me?” Sandy asked, but this question she whispered only to her sister. Her customers came in for many things, but rudeness from the owner wasn’t one of them.

  “He’s here all right. Saw him get off the bus. Dorie got a bit overexcited, y
ou know how she is when she’s right.”

  Sandy definitely knew how Dorie was when she was right - intolerable. Her smugness could last for days.

  “Who’s here?” Sandy asked.

  Coral eyed her, her brow creased with lines she wouldn’t want to know were quite so visible. “Dick Jacobs! Haven’t you been listening at all this morning?”

  “I’ve been trying not to.” Sandy admitted.

  “Did you say Dick Jacobs?” Bernice asked, appearing from the kitchen. She smelt of gingerbread and her cheeks had a dusting of flour on them.

  “Who’s Dick Jacobs?” Sandy asked. She had the distinct feeling that she had been kidnapped by aliens and transported to an alternate reality overnight.

  “Is he back?” Bernice asked.

  “Dorie came in this morning saying he was, and we’ve just seen him get off the bus.” Coral explained.

  “Blimey.” Bernice said. “I’d better check our assessments are up-to-date.”

  “I give up.” Sandy said, holding her hands up in defeat.

  “All right, Miss Dramatic, what’s got into you?” Coral asked, turning her attention to Sandy as Bernice retreated into the kitchen and banged around moving lever-arch files.

  “Nothing’s got into me!” Sandy exclaimed in a petulant voice that she knew made it obvious something had got into her. “I don’t know what any of you are talking about, that’s all.”

  “It’s fairly easy.” Coral said with a sigh. “Dick Jacobs is back.”

  “Ah, that settles it then. Why didn’t you say?” Sandy said. “Who on earth is Dick Jacobs?”

  Silence fell across the cafe and Sandy turned to see most of the customers looking at her with puzzled expressions on their faces.

  “You don’t know Dick Jacobs?” Dorie asked.

  Sandy sighed. She was tired of the whole conversation. “No, I’ve got no idea who he is.”

  “I didn’t realise his sabbatical had been that long.” Gus Sanders said. He was sitting at one of the far tables with his wife, Poppy. “He last came out to me, what must it have been, maybe 2 years ago… nah, must have been longer than that. Wow… time flies.”

  “It was four years ago, Gus.” Poppy said, her voice barely a whisper. “He was against the premises being used as a butcher’s, do you remember?”

  “He’s against everything, that bloke.” Gus muttered.

  “He’s from health and safety, Sandy.” Elaine explained.

  “Everyone’s getting this excited about a health and safety man?” Sandy asked, incredulous.

  “He’s not a health and safety man, he’s the health and safety devil!” Gus said with a snigger. “I think that man dreams at night about the next business he’ll close down.”

  “Surely, it’s his job to close down businesses that shouldn’t be open?” Sandy said. She couldn’t imagine that health and safety officer was a popular job. Probably about as well-liked as traffic wardens. But someone had to do it.

  “He’d close everyone down if he could.” Dorie said. “Do you remember the wool shop?”

  “The Knitting Basket?”

  “That’s it, thought it might be before your time. He had that place closed down because their kettle was too close to their toilet! And it was only for their own cups of tea, they didn’t even serve food or drinks!”

  Sandy tried to resist the temptation to roll her eyes. “I can’t imagine that’s the whole story, Dorie.”

  “You’ll see, you’ve never been inspected by him before.” Dorie said.

  “What are you trying to say, Dorie?” Sandy asked, feeling her cheeks flush.

  “She’s right.” Bernice’s measured voice came from behind Sandy. Sandy turned to see that her arms were filled with lever-arch files - the records that went into running an establishment that offered food and drink to the public. Temperature checks, food rotation, cleaning records, and more. The records were thorough, accurate and up-to-date, Sandy knew. “Dick Jacobs sees it as his personal mission to close down as many businesses as he can.”

  Sandy could ignore the customers gossiping, but for the unflappable Bernice to issue such stark words made Sandy shiver as if someone had walked over her grave.

  “Can we talk in private?” Bernice asked. Sandy nodded and followed her employee across the cafe area and upstairs to the books.

  Derrick was in the middle of serving an elderly gentleman who had been browsing for at least an hour and had an arm-full of books piled on the counter.

  “Dick Jacobs is bad news, Sandy.” Bernice whispered. She handed the pile of folders across to her. “You need to make sure all of these are in order.”

  “They are in order, Bernice, we’re so careful with them.” Sandy said.

  “He will find any tiny thing he can, and close us down. He really did close the wool shop, and he’s desperate to close Gus’ butchers. He’s been trying to catch him out for years.”

  “And he hasn’t managed it, doesn’t that show we don’t need to worry if we’re doing things properly anyway, which we are?”

  Bernice sighed, her lips pursed. “He has a thing against women in particular, Sandy. When he closed the wool shop down, he told Mabel that she should have been at home cleaning anyway, not trying to run a business.”

  Sandy felt her cheeks flush. “He really said that?”

  Bernice nodded. “He wants to get the butchers closed, but I think he’s scared of men. He’ll be after you, after us, when he comes. It’s his first visit to us, he’ll want to find something. Anything.”

  “Ok.” Sandy said. She had never seen Bernice so worried. “Ok, I’ll look through these.”

  “Do it today.” Bernice urged.

  “I’ll do it now.” Sandy promised. There was a small office at the back of the upstairs that she never used, but which had a desk and chair left from the previous occupants.

  Sandy decided to spend the rest of the morning holed up in the office, making sure that her folders would give Dick Jacobs no excuse to close her beloved business.

  2

  Sandy jumped at the sound of a light knock on the door which dragged her attention from her work. She stifled a yawn and closed the lever arch folder before calling for the person to enter.

  “Sandy, you should come down.” Bernice said, her face pale. Her tone of voice told Sandy not to argue. She stood up and followed Bernice out of the room and down the staircase.

  The cafe was bustling with people who were, again, gazing out of the window as their food and drinks grew cold.

  “What’s happened?” Sandy whispered.

  Nobody had time to answer her before a bright pink Porsche screeched to a halt outside the cafe and a tall, slender woman in a fur coat jumped out and raced out of sight.

  “What’s Isabelle doing here?” Sandy asked. Isabelle Irons, owner of the chip shop and various other businesses, was rarely seen in the village and certainly didn’t know how to fry fish herself.

  “Bad day for businesses and pet owners.” A voice came from behind Sandy. She turned to see Cherry Gentry, the vicar’s assistant, leafing through a mystery novel.

  “Is it, Cherry?” Sandy asked.

  Cherry slammed her book closed and met Sandy’s gaze. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Sandy felt her cheeks flush and held her hands up in apology, but Cherry had returned to her novel, muttering under her breath as she gazed down at the yellowed pages.

  “What are you doing, you awful little man?” The ghost of an Irish accent shouted from outside. Isabelle.

  Sandy pulled on her own coat and opened the cafe door, peering to the left to the chip shop, where Isabelle’s fur coat was flapping in the wind as she gesticulated wildly towards a man holding a clipboard.

  “Is everything okay, Isabelle?” Sandy asked, bracing herself against the weather.

  “We don’t need an audience, thank you, Ms Shaw.” The clipboard man said, although his smug grin suggested he was more than happy to be causing a scene.

  “
I don’t think I know you?” Sandy said, crossing her arms, although she would bet her bookshop that the man was Dick Jacobs.

  “You haven’t had the formal pleasure yet. That’s coming soon. Now, I must get back to my work.” The man said as he scribbled notes on his paper. He didn't even give her the courtesy of looking at her.

  “Are you ok?” Sandy asked Isabelle in a hushed tone.

  Isabelle Irons had looked like a radiant 40 year old for the last 30 years, as far as Sandy could remember. Her true age was anyone’s guess.

  “He’s closing the Fryer.” Isabelle said with a lilt.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s my job to close businesses that are a danger to the public, Ms Shaw. Now I must insist that you leave us alone.” The man said, as he finally looked up from his paperwork and gave Sandy a stern look. He stroked his salt-and-pepper moustache as he spoke.

  Sandy gave Isabelle a reassuring pat on the arm and walked away reluctantly, back to Books and Bakes. The door was open and Dorie and Cass were both crammed into the doorway watching what was happening.

  “I take it that’s Dick Jacobs?” Sandy asked as she reached them. Neither moved to allow her back in through the door.

  “He’s a brave man taking on The Iron Lady.” Dorie muttered.

  “The Iron Lady?” Cass asked.

  “Oh, forget it. You younguns know nothing important.”

  Cass shrugged and moved aside to let Sandy in.

  “Right everyone,” Dorie called, closing the door and returning to her usual table. “The Village Fryer has been closed down by health and safety.”

  While a few customers gasped, most were used to Dorie’s outbursts enough to continue what they were doing. Cherry Gentry didn’t even look up from her book.