by Agatha Frost
“Do you really think I would leave my office unlocked?” Ross cried as he dropped his clipboard onto his cluttered desk. “Not only are you a terrible actress, but you’re also as dumb as a rock. I’m not giving you a penny, and now you’ve got yourself caught in the middle of a breaking and entering, and an attempted theft charge with four witnesses.”
Like a deer caught in the headlights, Catherine stared wide-eyed at them before she darted to the window. Julia admired her attempted dash for the window, but she landed straight in Barker’s arms, who restrained her in seconds. He unclipped a pair of handcuffs from the back of his belt before cuffing her hands around a thick pipe on the wall.
“You never know when you’re going to need to handcuff someone,” Barker said with a shrug when he noticed Julia and Johnny staring at him. “I wasn’t walking into a stakeout unprepared.”
“And you laughed at my binoculars,” Johnny mumbled with a roll of his eyes. “What now? Do we call the police?”
“Not yet,” Julia said with a shake of her head. “We need to finish this. Barker, do you have those pictures?”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the rolled up glossy pictures. Julia unravelled them and looked at the picture of Carlton holding the cloth-covered object.
“Someone needs to stay here and watch Catherine,” Julia said, turning to Barker and Johnny. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
“Johnny can stay here,” Barker said firmly. “I’m not leaving your side. You’ve walked into danger too many times without me.”
“Danger?” Ross asked as he started to gather up the mess Catherine had made. “Why don’t you tell me why you were really sitting outside in your car?”
“We’ve found something that will end this once and for all,” Julia said, tapping the photographs. “Can you unlock the door? I need to talk to Carlton.”
Ross stared at them suspiciously for a moment before doing as she asked. Julia hurried through into the backstage area, stuffing the photographs into her handbag next to the thick paper-wrapped book from the antique barn. With Barker on her heels, they hurried around the back of the stage towards the rumble of the floor buffer. When they passed Dot’s dressing table, Julia felt the importance of the situation suddenly bear down on her.
“Let me do the talking,” Julia whispered as she turned on the voice recorder on her phone. “And shut that floor cleaner off. I need to hear him talk.”
“Just be careful,” Barker replied as they slipped out of the dark backstage area and into the brightly lit hall, passing the exact spot in Johnny’s pictures. “We don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Leaving Barker behind, Julia approached Carlton slowly, his back to her. Under the bright lights, his bald head shone brightly, and he looked weak and frail as he pushed the huge machine across the floor, bringing it up to a brilliant shine. When she got close, she could hear him mumbling under his breath.
“Carlton?” Julia called out over the sound of the machine. “Carlton? Can I talk to you about something?”
The cleaner barely looked up at Julia before spinning around to head in a different direction, mumbling all the way. Julia followed him and called out again, but the old man changed direction once more. Julia nodded to Barker, who was standing by the plug sockets next to the cleaning storeroom. He yanked on the cable, the machine cutting off immediately.
“I’m not finished!” Carlton cried, his eyes looking down at the shiny floor. “So many footprints. Why are you making more footprints?”
“Carlton, I need to talk to you about the opening night of the play,” Julia said, her voice shaking as she tried to make eye contact with the man who seemed adamant about looking anywhere else. “About Marcus’ shooting.”
“Blood stains are hard to get rid of, you know,” he mumbled, his finger tapping on his chin. “Took strong bleach to bring it up out of the wood. I’ve been here long enough to have seen every stain you can imagine. Always stains and footprints in my hall. People never learn. I should have retired when I had the chance.”
Julia looked at Barker, unsure if they had got the wrong end of the stick entirely. As she stared down at the old man, who was still grumbling under his breath, she wondered if he was capable of planning out a murder.
“Is there anything you want to tell me about the shooting?” Julia asked, all of the questions she wanted to ask drifting out of her mind. “About the gun switching?”
“I never got what I was promised,” he grumbled before suddenly turning to walk back to his cupboard. “Still here cleaning up footprints.”
Carlton shuffled into his cleaning storeroom. He pulled out a smaller manual floor buffer and started to work on the footprints Julia had caused.
“Carlton,” Julia said, grabbing his shoulders and ducking down so that they were finally making eye contact. “I know you switched the guns. I have proof.”
“Never knew it was real,” he mumbled before shuffling off. “Never told me.”
“What is he talking about?” Barker whispered, his brows arched. “He’s crazy.”
Julia opened her handbag, moved the book out of the way, and pulled out the photographs to show to Carlton. Something stuck to the pictures before fluttering to the ground. It was the slip of paper Ross had given to her to pass onto Dot in the shoe shop, his name ‘ROSS MILLER’ spelled out in giant capital letters above his phone number. With shaky hands, Julia pulled her phone out of her bag. She exited out of the voice recording app and opened up her photo album, which was still open on the most recent picture she had taken. She scooped up the slip of paper, holding it next to the picture of her name.
“The letters are the same,” Julia whispered, her hands shaking. “‘STAY AWAY. OR YOU’LL BE NEXT’. Barker, look at this. It’s the same handwriting.”
Julia passed her phone and the slip of paper to Barker before turning to watch Carlton shuffle off with the floor buffer. As all of the pieces of the puzzle slotted neatly into place, she suddenly realised just how wrong she had got everything.
15
Leaving Barker in the hall, Julia sprinted back to Ross’ office. She rattled the handle, but he had locked the door once again.
“Ross?” Julia cried as she banged her fist on the door. “Ross? Are you in there?”
Ross did not call back, but she heard muffled screams that she knew belonged to Catherine. Julia looked at the door, and then around her for something to break through with. When a red fire extinguisher caught her attention, she immediately picked it up and began bashing at the handle.
“What have you figured out?” Barker cried as he ran backstage. “I thought Carlton switched the guns?”
“He did,” Julia yelled as she beat the extinguisher down on the handle one final time before it sprang off. “But didn’t you hear Carlton? ‘I didn’t get what I was promised’. This is what it’s all been about since the beginning.”
“What?” Barker replied.
“Money.”
Julia burst through the door and fell into the office. Johnny was on the floor, blood trickling from the side of his head, his glasses snapped next to him. Catherine was still bound to the pipe, but a tie had been stuffed in her mouth, gagging her screams.
“He took the money and ran,” Catherine cried when Julia pulled down the gag. “The guy with the glasses wouldn’t move, so Ross hit him with the safe box.”
Julia rushed to Johnny’s side, relief spreading through her when she heard him groan. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not seem fully conscious or aware of what was going on.
“Stay with him, Barker,” Julia called over her shoulder. “I need to go after Ross before he gets away.”
Without waiting for him to object, Julia launched through the broken window, landing on the grass with a thud. She looked around in every direction, wondering which way to run, but when she heard the unmistakable roar of her car’s vintage engine, she set off sprinting towards the front of the church, cursing herself under her breath for having
left her keys in the ignition.
Julia jumped over the low church wall, landing in front of her car at the same moment Ross figured out how to turn the headlights on. They locked eyes as he revved the engine, his desperation to get away loud and clear.
“I will run you over,” Ross cried over the roar of the car. “Move!”
“No!” Julia cried back, planting her hands on the car bonnet. “Not until you tell me why you planned to use my gran to kill your uncle.”
Ross’ nostrils flared as he revved the engine again. He edged forward, causing Julia to jump back, but she did not move out of the way. Ross looked through the rear-view mirror at the car parked behind him, and then at the village green. Julia knew exactly what he was thinking, and if she let him get away, she doubted she would see him or her car ever again.
“I warned you!” he yelled before stamping his foot down on the accelerator. “You just couldn’t keep out of things!”
The wheels spun, screeching against the fresh, soft snow. The headlights burning her eyes, Julia saw her life flash before her in an instant. She thought about Barker’s book deal and how she would never get to see his success, and about how she would never see the day that Jessie was legally her daughter, or her sister’s twins’ birth, or her gran’s freedom. She even thought about her mother resting a stone’s throw away in the graveyard and how she would not get to lay flowers on her grave on Christmas morning.
Julia clenched her eyes, but the car never hit. Something as heavy as a car banged into her side, pushing her clean out of the way. She fell with a thud on the road, rolling onto the village green just as the front of her beloved car hit Barker.
“No!” Julia cried out as she watched him roll across the road.
Ross swerved out of the way, quickly losing control of the wheel. He mounted the pavement with a thud, crashing into the church wall with a crunch. Julia did not care about her car or about Ross’ guilt, all she cared about in that moment was Barker. She ran over to his side, her own pain from hitting the road vanishing. She rolled him over, relief surging through her when she saw his clenched-up face.
“I’m fine,” Barker mumbled through tight lips. “He barely touched me. Help me up.”
Using Julia as a crutch, Barker stumbled to his feet. They both turned to her car as Ross stumbled out, dazed from the ordeal. He staggered down the street, the ticket money safe box clenched to his chest. When he finally seemed to regain his wits, Johnny climbed over the wall right in front of him, his fist colliding with Ross’ right cheek. Johnny jumped back and yelped in pain as he clenched his hand, but Ross fell onto the snow, knocked out cold.
“I didn’t see that,” Barker said, nodding at Johnny. “He tripped over. Help me get him back into the hall. We’re putting an end to this right now.”
Julia paced back and forth in front of Ross, who was tied up in the middle of the village hall with the long electrical cord from the floor buffer. It took him almost ten minutes to fully come to his senses, but when he started to wriggle against his restraints, Julia had lined up all of the details in her mind. When she was ready, she nodded to Johnny, who was recording the whole thing on Julia’s phone, a bandage from the first aid kit strapped around his head. Barker was slumped over a chair, an ice pack on his knee, while Catherine and Carlton watched from the sides.
“You’ve lost the damn plot, woman!” Ross cried as he thrashed in the chair. “You can’t do this to me!”
“The plot,” Julia said. “That’s where all of this started, wasn’t it, Ross? I suppose you had the idea to stage this elaborate cover-up the moment your uncle, the only living relative that you knew you had, told you about the drama club. What did you tell me? That you bumped into each other in a bar a couple of months ago and you came to Peridale to overhaul the drama club? Did he also tell you about his cancer then as well? I bet you were already spending your inheritance from that moment, until you heard about his new wife.”
“You can’t prove a damn thing!” Ross yelled through gritted teeth. “This is just a story.”
“A story,” Julia echoed. “You wrote and directed the play. ‘A Festive Murder’. It was billed as a murder mystery set at Christmas, and yet there was no mystery. We all saw my gran shoot and kill your uncle, which is exactly what you planned. You wrote the play especially for them, and I bet you were rubbing your hands together when my gran told you about their history. You told her to use it, but it was you who used it. And yet, when I asked you about it, you claimed not to have known their history. I should have caught you out then. You knew it would be a reasonable motive to keep the police off your scent until you finished your shows, leaving you to flee with your uncle’s money the moment the dust settled. But that’s not how it all worked out, is it? I suspect you’d have been happy to watch your uncle die of cancer, so you could cash in your inheritance. You were, after all, his only living relative. I suppose he made no secret that he was leaving his fortune to you? When you met Catherine, you were threatened. You told me yourself that you thought she was only in it for the money.”
“She was,” Ross said, spitting on the ground. “She’s an opportunist.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Johnny mumbled under his breath as he cast his eyes at Catherine, who was suddenly interested in her chipped nail polish.
“You thought the money was owed to you,” Julia continued. “You probably still do. You didn’t want to risk your uncle changing his will before he died, so you planned the play around killing him in such an obvious way that no one would suspect you because the whole village saw my gran perform your dirty work without any idea of what she was doing.”
“So, why were Poppy’s fingerprints found on the gun?” Ross asked smugly. “Answer that, Julia.”
Julia unclipped her handbag to pull out the photographs once again. She held up the edited versions in front of Ross, flicking between them just as Johnny had for her.
“I imagine you were quite surprised to hear about Poppy’s arrest,” Julia said as she held up the picture of Carlton holding the cloth covered gun. “Especially since you put the cleaner up to switching the guns. You didn’t want to risk any of this coming back to you, so you asked Carlton to do it. I bet you didn’t even tell him it was a real gun.”
“But he accepted the offer of money to not ask questions,” Ross countered with a smirk, his eyes locked on Julia’s. “He knew exactly what he was doing. My uncle’s life was only worth five thousand pounds to him, but I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve been scrubbing floors a decade past retirement age.”
Julia looked at Carlton as he mumbled to himself, his fingers knotting together in his lap.
“You told me your grandfather, Marcus’ father, was in the army,” Julia said, suddenly remembering the small detail. “Is that where you got the gun? Was it left over from the war?”
“It was an Enfield No. 2,” Barker announced. “Common army issue from the Second World War.”
“That makes sense,” Julia agreed with a nod as she continued to pace. “So, you already had the gun, you devised the story around killing your uncle, you made sure to use someone else to switch the guns so you were just an innocent bystander. You even played the part of the disgruntled director, sticking around and recasting the roles. The show must go on, after all, but the only show you were performing was saving face until your uncle’s will was read. I bet you were happy when Catherine moved it forward.”
“I wanted to see the look of disappointment on her face,” Ross whispered darkly.
“And you did,” Julia said with a nod. “Although you should have had a mirror on hand to see your own disappointment. I bet you were quite surprised to hear that Poppy Johnston had inherited every last penny.”
Ross fidgeted in his chair, his eyelids fluttering for a second as he stared at Julia.
“I never did quite figure out that part,” Ross admitted. “Indulge me. You seem to have everything else figured out.”
“Poppy is y
our cousin,” Julia whispered as she leaned into Ross’ face. “Your uncle had a child he never even knew about until two weeks ago.”
“That witch!” Catherine cried. “That’s how she did it!”
“She didn’t do anything,” Julia said, her voice booming around the hall. “She wasn’t like the nephew so desperate to inherit that he resorted to murder, or the wife who was waiting for the cancer to take over, so she could move onto her next victim. Poor Poppy was the only person in Marcus’ life who actually cared. Given time to get over the shock, I daresay they would have enjoyed quality months before his death. Months you took away from her, Ross. Your own selfish need for wealth denied a confused girl the chance to get to know the father she had spent her entire life wondering about. In those two weeks, your uncle was clever enough to recognise that she mattered and that he cared about her, even if she was pushing him away. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were only a few days too late after he changed his will.”
“I checked,” Johnny announced. “He changed it two days before the performance.”
Ross glared up at Julia before thrashing against the cables once more. The news that he had missed out on his uncle’s fortune by two days ignited fresh rage within him. Julia nodded at Johnny to move in closer with the camera.
“Have you got anything to say to my gran?” Julia asked. “The woman you happily framed for murder? Or what about the girl whose father you took away?”
“I’d do it all again!” Ross cried, his face turning bright red as he fought the restraints. “If it meant I had a chance at getting that money, I’d switch those guns again in a heartbeat!”
“Then that’s all I need to hear,” Julia said, nodding to Johnny to let him know he could stop filming. “Barker, you can call for back up now. We’ve got it.”
