by Sarah Kelly
“I don’t do nothing,” he said. “I use to like steal a car here and there but not to sell, just for fun, like. Me and Liam used to do that when we was kids.”
“Joyriding?” India asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t do it no more. Everyone does dumb stuff when they’re a teenager. Now I stay out of trouble. I just make things, buy things and sell ‘em on, fix people’s cars sometimes. There ain’t no work here.”
India found a new theory ticking away in her brain before she could stop herself. What if Charlie, Liam and Felicia had conspired together to take some of Laurence’s money? From how it looked, Charlie could certainly have done with the money. Then something went sour between Felicia and the boys. They got someone to deliver the freezer for them, then they took it upstairs…
“You took the freezer upstairs, didn’t you?” India said. “With Liam. He paid you five pounds. Is that right?”
“I didn’t kill her or nothing.”
Xavier’s voice was calming. “No one’s accusing you of that. We just want to make sure we have the facts straight. We’re trying to work out what happened to Felicia, and to Liam now, too.”
Charlie shook his head. “I ain’t saying a word. It’ll all get twisted around and before I know it I’ll be in some cell with cuffs slapped on me.”
“No one’s going to blame you,” India said. “We promise.”
“Yeah, right,” Charlie scoffed. “I don’t think you get it. Anything happens around here? I get the blame. That Middleton idiot’s probably getting ready to arrest me right now.”
Xavier shook his head. “He’s not actually.”
“We’ve just been with him,” India said. “He didn’t even mention your name. I think he’s torn between whether we” – pointing at herself and Xavier – “killed them, or if Laurence did. Or some American assassin. I’ve never even heard him talk about you.” Even as she said it, India wondered if Charlie wasn’t spinning a story about always being targeted by the police. It would be a good one to make him seem more innocent and hard done by. Charlie nodded but was now kneeling down sorting some nails and made no reply. “So did you move the freezer?” India pushed.
“Yeah,” he said. “But I didn’t know what it was for, I swear. Liam just told me Lord Loz wanted it up there and gave him some extra cash.”
“There was supposed to have been a note of instructions,” Xavier said. “Did you ever see that?”
“Nah, don’t think so. I just got there, some guy in a van got it out and me and Liam carried it upstairs.”
“Oh, yes, “India said. “The guy in the van… did you know him? Do you know where the freezer came from?”
“Nah. He just looked like any ordinary delivery guy. Had some up north accent, though.”
“Up north?” Xavier asked.
“I dunno, Manchester or Liverpool or Newcastle or one of them places,” Charlie said, shrugging. “They all sound the same to me, like.”
That was no use. India tucked her hands under her armpits, trying to think. “And you didn’t notice anything unusual about the van? Remember a license plate or anything? No logo on the side, or a company name?”
“Why would I be looking at all that?” Charlie snapped.
“You were just doing your job,” India said. “Getting your money.”
“Exactly. Though they should have paid me more,” he griped. “I walked all the way across the sodding village to get there and all the way back in the dark. Almost got run over by Lord Loz in that fancy car on the way to my house. Head on, as well. Don’t know what he was doing, coming back from somewhere, I suppose. But he’s a bit of a weirdo. I was shouting at him and he just looked at me with that weird pale face. Think you should investigate him.”
India’s heart skipped a beat. “But wasn’t he supposed to be gone to an art conference the day the freezer was moved? That’s why he left the note in the first place.”
“Yeah, well, looks like he’s up to something.” Charlie raised his eyebrows. “I never liked that guy. He’s creepy, like. Too nice. No one’s that nice unless they’re fake.”
India thought back to when they’d first arrived at Aston Paddox Hall with driver Tom. “Was it a white Mercedes he was in?”
“Yeah.” His eyes brightened up. “Nice Merc, that. It’s a Mercedes-Maybach S-Class edition in Amalfi White. It’s the V8 not the V12 but it’s still bloody amazing.”
It was all double dutch to both India and Xavier. “How do you know all that?” India asked. “You know whose car it is?”
“Of course. Tom’s.”
***
“He’s told me all about you,” Mrs Stone said as she hurried them through the living room, where a huge gaggle of excited kids watched TV and played tag both at once. “You must stay.” Once they were out of the patio doors, they saw Tom standing at a barbecue grill. The thing was making a loud crackling sound and smoke poured out, sending the rich, meaty smell all around them and into the small yard out back. “You might think it’s a bit insensitive,” Mrs Stone said quietly, “what with what’s gone on at the Hall and all. But we promised the kids a barbecue now the weather’s nice. It wouldn’t be fair to deny them that, would it? We’re trying to shield them as much as possible, actually,” she said, patting both India and Xavier on their arms like she’d known them forever. “So try not to say anything in front of them, would you?”
It was only then that Tom noticed them. “Xavier.” He pronounced it Zav-ee-eh, then shook his head. “It’s X-avier, isn’t it? Sorry I’ll get the hang of it. And India. How are you both? Terrible what’s happened, isn’t it?”
Mrs Stone hurried inside. Just before she closed the door, she said, “Remember, Tom, not in front of the kids.”
“All right, love.” He emitted such a warm and even fatherly air that India warmed to him instantly. He reminded her of her dad, who had always been kind to her. But she reminded herself to stay neutral. After all, some of the people that seemed the nicest ended up being guilty. “So are you sticking around to investigate?”
“Yes,” Xavier said. “Didn’t Laurence tell you?”
Tom fussed around the barbecue. “I can put some extra sausages and burgers in for you, if you’d like?”
India was actually very hungry. She looked at Xavier. “I’d love to stay. What about you, Zave?”
“I couldn’t say no,” Xavier said with a grin.
“Well, all right, I’ll chuck some more in,” Tom said, “and some corn on the cob, too. Can’t have it all our way, can we?” He flashed them a smile. “Sorry, we’re just trying to pretend all is normal over here. It doesn’t bear thinking about, does it, that a killer lurks among us? It’s good to hear you’re sticking around for a while. Goodness knows, Constable Middleton isn’t up to much. And that Sergeant’s never usually about. I think they’re in way over their heads.”
“I think you’re right,” Xavier said. “I used to be a cop and I can’t say I care much for the way the constable has handled this. On the day we found Felicia’s body, he barged in and started accusing Laurence of murder.”
“That sounds like his style,” Tom said, rolling his eyes. “Oh no, my manners!” He hurried over to a couple of fold-out chairs on the lawn, then hurried to bring them over and place them on the decking. “Have a seat, please.”
India looked at Xavier as Tom turned back to the barbecue. They both wanted to find out about nearly running Charlie over in the rural winding roads that led to his home. It required a little finesse to do it in a non-confrontational way, though.
“Sorry, I know this seems totally random,” India said, giving up the search for a smooth segue, “but did you drive Laurence to an art conference a couple days before we arrived?”
Tom nodded. “That I did. Picked him up around 3pm. Thursday, I think it was. He stayed overnight and someone from the conference dropped him back.”
India and Xavier glanced at each other, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Right,” Xavier said. “And you d
idn’t see him again until you dropped us off?”
Tom screwed up his face in thought, then eventually nodded and said, “That’s right.”
India made wide eyes at Xavier. “I think someone might have taken your car that night, then brought it back. Would that be a possibility?” They had seen the car out on the front drive as they came through. It was quite strange, such a large expensive car, filling up the whole cramped driveway of the small home. “The car is more expensive than the house, I’ll wager,” Xavier had whispered to her before they’d knocked the door.”
“Goodness,” Tom said, snapping his head toward them. “Why would you say that?”
“Oh,” India said, frowning like she was concerned on his behalf. “Well, Charlie Tomlinson, I don’t know if you know him. He said that on Thursday night he almost got run over by your car, on the backroads leading to his house. In the dark, so it can’t have been 3pm.”
“Oh, that,” Tom said quickly. “I didn’t think to mention that. You see… Laurence called me to say he’d forgotten some of his sculpting materials. So we went back to the Hall to get them, and then I took him back to the conference. I was very annoyed with him at the time. I’d just settled down to a nice Indian takeaway with my wife and the kids and the grandkids, and he rings me like a school boy saying he’s forgotten some type of sculpting knife or something? It has a proper name, but I’ve forgotten it. I was dead set to eat my Vindaloo and have a nice beer and watch EastEnders. Mrs Stone was furious, I don’t mind telling you. Anyway, I went and picked him up and brought him back and took him back again. It took forever, and I didn’t get home until gone half eleven. Everyone was in bed and I had to eat my Vindaloo on my lap in front of the telly. Then I had bad stomach ache all night from eating it too late. Terrible night’s sleep I had. Just abysmal.”
“Oh right,” India said. The way he had started talking so fast and so much told her that he was definitely hiding something.
He then smiled and looked back at them. “I was very annoyed with Laurence but it’s water under the bridge. You remember when I took you to the Hall from the airport? That’s why he gave me a bit of extra money. As a sorry. Or a thank you for my troubles. Whichever you prefer to call it.”
CHAPTER 11
Tom didn’t reveal much more information, but even as he was ever so friendly, making them up plates of hot dogs and burgers and corn on the cob, India was sure she was hiding something. On their way back to Mrs Clitheroe’s past the quaint stone cottages and lavender and bay-filled front gardens of Aston Paddox, feeling more full than was comfortable, she talked over it with Xavier.
“I mean, he looked really… I don’t know, worried?” India said. “I think something’s definitely up.”
Xavier nodded. “Me too. It really would be the perfect alibi for Laurence, wouldn’t it? Saying he was at an art conference when the freezer was taken upstairs. Then he returned to the Hall when it got dark, murdered Felicia, put her in the freezer and went back to the art conference like he had never left.”
India grimaced. “I’m starting to believe that’s what happened, too. I wonder if Tom was actually involved, or if Laurence just spun the story about forgetting art materials. Maybe Tom had no idea what was actually going on at the time, but he’s guessed now. That’s why he didn’t tell us right away.”
“Either way,” Xavier said, shaking his head, “they obviously took the back roads around Charlie’s house to avoid being spotted. And they didn’t count on meeting Charlie back there.”
India nodded. “You’re right. But then… I still don’t get this whole freezer thing. As I keep saying, why not bury her in the garden? And then he gives us free range of his house? It’s like he invited us to find her body. Why would he do that, especially when he invited us here in the first place to go search for her?”
“And what about Liam?” Xavier asked. “How did he get mixed up in it all?”
India shook her head. Since the black magic incident, she and Xavier had talked it over many times but still couldn’t make head or tail of it. The blackmail conversation she’d heard between Liam and Laurence… was that real? Or when they’d returned from their terrifying magical travel… was that really what had happened? It seemed almost impossible to tell, like they’d lived two conflicting realities both at once. Something very weird was going on. “Where do you think the whole black magic thing fits in? Remember when we were in that weird place, they were saying that someone needed Liam dead? Some weird name I don’t remember. Of course, you weren’t conscious. Maybe… Tch... I want to say Torch but obviously it’s not that.”
Xavier shook his head. “Maybe… Thoth? I think that’s an Egyptian god.”
India’s heart melted as she thought of Xavier lying on that block in the middle of all those hooded figures, unconscious. “Are you… all right? Like, from everything that’s happened?”
“Oh, yeah,” Xavier said, standing tall. “You don’t have to worry about me. I just want to get this mystery solved.”
“Me too,” India said. She linked her arm in his. “It all seems so mixed up now, but I know we…” She trailed off, frowning, as the sound of shouting came ever closer with each step.
“Don’t you ever call me that!” a posh man’s voice seared through the air. “Do I look like a bleeding heart dirt poor artist to you? Well, do I?”
India and Xavier approached a little convenience store on the corner. A gunmetal gray BMW, obviously brand new and top of the range, was parked up at the curb, and the professional driver stared out through the windshield, looking nonplussed.
India and Xavier glanced at each other, then went into the store. The older lady at the counter looked flustered, blushing and stammering and trying to explain herself as the man continued his tirade. “You’ll do well to get your eyes checked,” he spat. “People in this village disgust me.”
He looked exactly like Laurence in his facial features and tall stature, but India could tell instantly that this was Alexander. His hair was cut very short, he wore an immaculate gray suit which was obviously carefully tailored and had shining brogues on his feet India was absolutely sure Laurence would never be seen dead in.
“Sir, is there a problem?” Xavier asked.
Alexander jerked back like he’d been slapped in the face. “Where are you from? Miami? Why are you here?” His eyes narrowed with rage. “You’d better not be a journalist, or I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
Xavier pushed his shoulders back and looked Alexander right in the eye. India was very proud of him. Alexander was so intimidating he’d set her heart beating so fast it almost hummed. “No, we are not jour—”
“You Americans think we British are so reserved,” Alexander said, then curled his lip up in a sneer. “Well, don’t count on that from me, punk. I’ve lived in the States since before you were born, I’d bet.” When India really listened, she heard a tinge of Floridian fused in with his plummy tones. “If you’re a journalist get out and stay out before I kick you out.”
“I am not a journalist,” Xavier said forcefully. “I am Xavier Bradford. This is my wife India Kirby-Bradford. We are private investigators.”
“Oh,” Alexander said. “Investigat—”
India interrupted. “Your brother Laurence called us here to try and track down Felicia… your daughter.” It was only then that India really remembered that Alexander was her father, that he would be mourning. She felt a twinge of compassion, as much as she could for a man with such a hard expression like he’d never felt an ounce of softness for anyone else in his life. “Now we’re looking into… well, the whole thing.”
India’s words had obviously taken the wind out of Alexander’s sails. “Right,” he said, taking on a glazed over look. “Right. Yes. Well, good.” He then took the bottle of wine that was on the counter by its neck and said, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have shouted,” not meeting the shopkeeper’s eyes. Then he pushed past Xavier and India, went through the door with a buh-ring of the bell, go
t in the car and closed the door quite delicately.
“Goodness,” the shopkeeper lady said. “Some folk are ever so tetchy, aren’t they? I’d only thought he was Laurence and told him he was looking very dapper. A normal person would have just told me I’d made a mistake. Then again, with the whole murder business… his daughter and all… poor man.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
India shook her head as she looked over at Xavier. He knew she meant something much broader when she replied, “Us neither.”
***
“Do you really think he’s involved with the Mafia?” India said blurrily, her mouth full of frothing toothpaste.
Xavier was sitting up in bed with a pad of paper in his lap, scribbling notes. “Oo oo ee ee ih ee inwo wih uh ahea?” he said, laughing.
“Oh, get lost,” India said with a smile, though none of that came out properly either. Then after she spat out and rinsed she came and bounded onto the bed. It was so cozy in Mrs Clitheroe’s house, and the bedroom was no exception. With exposed wooden beams, a fluffy cream carpet and lamps emitting a gentle golden glow throughout, it really was a snuggly place to be, especially at night. “So what have we got, Mr Investigator?”
Xavier read out the list under a title reading Loose Ends. “The note and Charlie and the van man. I still think there’s more to know there.”
“Me too.”
“What Geoffrey Forsythe said about Laurence’s funny turn,” he continued to read. “I remember you saying something about that yesterday.”
India nodded.
Xavier’s brow furrowed. “Obviously Alexander in general. He’s one huge question mark. And anything he was involved in could have caused this whole Felicia situation. So we’ve got to delve into his past somehow.”
India’s head was beginning hurt as her thoughts tied herself in knots. She hated that feeling, but hated the mystery being unsolved even more. “And this whole black magic thing,” she said. “What in the world was that all about?”
