The Windmill Cafe Part 2 Autumn Leaves

by Poppy Blake

  ‘I’m going to wait until I’ve calmed down a bit before I decide. What he’s done is way out of order, Fred. This isn’t some children’s adventure quest or treasure hunt. It wasn’t easy getting Giles Barringer to agree to a group of myth seeking enthusiasts invading his land for a session of wild camping.’

  ‘Well, there’s no lasting harm done, I suppose,’ mused Freddie, clearly oblivious to Matt and Rosie’s suspicions. ‘Except to his relationship with Phil and Brad who are devastated to have missed the main event – I don’t think Emma minds all that much, though. I don’t know how they put up with his obnoxious arrogance and ridiculous pursuit of one-upmanship, or why. He’s a total moron, if you ask me!’

  ‘Well, it’s probably because he paid for everyone’s trip to Willerby, including this wild camping jaunt with Ultimate Adventures, out of his own pocket,’ said Rosie, making her way down to the arch. No point coming all this way and not taking advantage of the wish-granting facilities. Goodness knew she could do with a bit of help!

  ‘Pardon?’

  Matt stared at Rosie, his proximity sending tiny shivers down her spine. Memories of the kiss they’d shared on a deserted Norfolk beach flickered across her mind and caused her to run the tip of her tongue along her lower lip before continuing. ‘Rick paid for the lodges; for him and Helen, for Phil and Steph, and for Brad and Emma.’

  ‘But I thought the trip was arranged through the Myth Seekers Society that they all belong to? Like a sort of school trip?’

  ‘It was. But the lodges are expensive, Matt. Graham told me that Rick was so keen to come here to see the Garside Priory that he paid for the majority of the cost without running the real amount past the committee in case they kicked up a fuss about his choice of accommodation. Surprisingly enough, the members are sticklers for the rules. The Society could never have afforded the rental, and neither could Phil or Brad, I suspect. Rick asked Graham not to divulge the fact he’d paid for everything, or how much the lodges actually cost – the others just think the fees were cheap enough that the Society’s funds could cover it all.’

  ‘It’s certainly a generous gesture, I suppose. But if you want my opinion it’s yet another example of his controlling personality. Why couldn’t he have come down to Norfolk by himself, or with his wife? Why does he have to have the others with him? Do you think it’s just so that he can bounce his superiority and rudeness around unchecked?’

  ‘Probably,’ laughed Rosie.

  ‘Arrrrrrrrrrrr!’

  A high-pitched scream sliced through the air and Rosie knew at once it was Mia. Her first thought was that she had fallen from a wall, or tumbled into a hollow filled with spiders. She dashed into the middle of the priory’s internal courtyard with Matt and Freddie hot on her heels, but what she saw was so unexpected that she drew up short causing Matt to run into the back of her.

  She had been right, it was Mia who had screamed – but it wasn’t Mia who was injured. Her friend was staring, her hands covering her mouth in horror, at a body slumped on the ground with an arrow protruding from its ankle and blood oozing from the wound.

  ‘Oh my God! It’s Rick!’

  Chapter 5

  Rosie’s heart raced in a futile attempt to escape its cage and its thunderous beat rang in her ears. A surge of nausea ambushed her as she turned away from the scene and arched her back to the sky, her palms on her thighs, inhaling ragged gasps of oxygen. She waited for the dizziness to pass. The urge to collapse to her knees was almost too overwhelming to resist but she knew she needed to stay strong for Mia’s sake. She swallowed down on the acidic tang radiating over her tongue and with great difficulty managed to drag her senses into some sort of order, hoping for comprehension to dawn.

  ‘Is he … is he dead?’ whimpered Mia.

  Phil was next to join them, and the shock of seeing Rick collapsed on the ground in the cloister with Matt kneeling over him and clearly checking for a pulse, rendered him motionless. His jaw gaped, his face bleached chalk white, as he struggled to understand what his eyes were telling him.

  ‘He’s not dead, Mia, he’s just passed out,’ said Matt, grabbing his first aid kit from his rucksack and signalling for Freddie to help him to remove the arrow protruding from Rick’s ankle.

  ‘I feel awful saying this, but are you sure he’s unconscious?’ said Phil, a catch in his throat as he spoke for the first time. ‘You’ve seen what he’s like. This could be just another one of his pranks – a joke arrow, fake blood, you know. Sorry, no, forget I said that, sorry.’

  Phil took a quick step back and bumped into Brad, who had just arrived on the scene with a breathless Emma in his wake.

  ‘What’s going on? Mia, why were you screaming? Oh, my God, what’s happened to Rick?’

  Shock spread across Emma’s face. She folded her arms across her abdomen and huddled against Brad. Her eyes, the colour of Irish shamrock, were as wide as saucers, their whites almost popping from her skull.

  Before anyone could answer Emma’s questions, Rick started to groan. Rosie had never heard such a welcome complaint. Like Mia, she too had been convinced Rick was dead. Relief flooded her veins and the high-pitched drumming in her ears began to subside. She took a few steadying breaths and as the initial shock eased, her heartbeat returned to something approaching normal. She moved forward to hook her arm around her friend’s waist, distressed to feel her uncontrollable trembling.

  ‘Ergh! Careful!’

  Beads of perspiration appeared on Rick’s forehead and his face displayed a strange waxy pallor. Matt worked quickly to clean Rick’s wound and wrap his ankle tightly in a bandage, causing his patient to grimace as spasms of pain shot through his calf with each twist.

  ‘Can you remember anything about what happened?’ asked Matt, sitting back on his heels, satisfied he had done the best he could in the circumstances.

  ‘What does it look like? Someone shot me with an arrow! Their first attempt went flying past my ear and got stuck in that bench over there. I tried to run, but they got me with their second shot. I reckon if I hadn’t collapsed behind that gravestone, they would have finished the job, or maybe they just chickened out, I don’t know. Anyway, I must have passed out from the pain, because the next thing I know you’re yanking the bloody thing from my ankle. Is it broken?’

  ‘I think it’s just a flesh wound, in which case there’ll be no lasting damage, but it’s probably best to get your ankle checked out at hospital. I’ll call an ambulance…’

  ‘There’s no mobile signal,’ interrupted Freddie, his freckled face suffused in anxiety. ‘It’s half a mile to the nearest village. I’ll run over there and call the paramedics and then wait for them at the end of the track to guide them up here to the priory.’

  ‘Thanks, Freddie.’

  ‘I don’t need an ambulance, I want the police!’

  ‘So you don’t think it was an accident?’ gasped Mia, her tone raised an octave in alarm.

  ‘Of course not! Who accidentally fires off two arrows in the same direction? And do you see anyone hanging around to apologize for their seriously substandard archery skills? No, you don’t. Which can only mean one thing – I was targeted by a lunatic intent on dispatching me to my maker in broad daylight.’

  ‘But who would…? Oh my God! Do you think the person who did this is still … is still…?’

  Rosie’s voice trailed off into the enveloping silence as everyone, apart from Rick, turned in unison to scan the crumbling eaves of the priory, then the copse of trees to their left, then finally to watch Freddie’s retreating figure as he made his way across the field towards civilization, all of them expecting him to collapse under a barrage of arrows at any moment.

  ‘Did anyone see anything on the hike over here? Anything at all?’ asked Matt.

  ‘Well, I didn’t see anything, or anyone escaping over the fields in green tights carrying a quiver full of arrows,’ said Brad, the only one seemingly unmoved by Rick’s suffering and subsequent hypothesis of being a victi
m in a pre-meditated shooting.

  ‘Well, it’s obvious who the culprit is, isn’t it?’ seethed Rick.

  ‘Who?’ demanded Rosie.

  ‘Well, no one else knew we were going to be here, did they? It’s highly unlikely that a passer-by, who just happened to be carrying a bow and arrow in their back pocket, decided to take aim and shoot a random stranger who was innocently exploring an ancient priory at dawn.’

  ‘Does that mean…’

  ‘Rick, you can’t seriously be suggesting that one of us is responsible for shooting you.’

  ‘No other explanation.’

  ‘You are unbelievable!’ muttered Brad, his eyes reflecting his contempt for Rick’s theory. ‘Someone correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t we all been together from the moment we left camp until Mia discovered Rick slumped here in the cloisters? How could any one of us have shot you with a bow and arrow?’

  ‘Brad does have a point,’ said Phil, his hands shaking so violently on his camera that he was forced to shove them into the pockets of his combat trousers, but his elbows continued to flap nervously at his sides like a caged seagull.

  ‘Okay,’ interrupted Matt, keen to diffuse the mounting tension. ‘This is neither the time, nor the place, to be making unfounded accusations. Phil, would you mind taking Emma and Mia back to the reception lodge at Ultimate Adventures? Brad, I need you to stay to help carry Rick’s stretcher to the ambulance. Rosie, I take it you’ve got first aid training, so can you stay here too, until Freddie gets back with the paramedics?’

  ‘And the police! I think everyone should stay where they are, not go wandering off! We need to find out who tried to kill me, and why, as soon as possible so they can feel the full strength of the law!’

  ‘But why would any one of us want to kill you, Rick? And why here in Norfolk? We’ve all had ample opportunity to bump you off back home in Manchester,’ reasoned Brad, glancing around the gathering to make sure everyone was agreeing with him.

  ‘Hey, maybe it was one of the ghosts or spirits who inhabit the ruin?’ suggested Emma, speaking for the first time since they had found Rick collapsed in a pool of blood.

  ‘You know, I’ve changed my mind. Matt’s right, you should head back. I don’t want to sit here, forced to listen to such ridiculous hypotheses for the next hour. All I ask is that when you eventually manage get back to civilization, one of you informs Helen so she can drive over to the hospital to collect me – if she isn’t too busy spending my money in the shops of Norwich. Think you can manage that, Phil?’

  ‘Of course. Come on, ladies, let’s get going.’

  ‘And make sure you stick to the path,’ advised Matt, repacking the Ultimate Adventures first aid box and returning it to his rucksack.

  ‘Yeah, and try not to get an arrow between your eyes,’ warned Rick, with more than a soupçon of malice in his expression.

  ‘What if Rick’s right and there is someone lurking out there?’ said Emma, her anguish plain for all to see. ‘A poison-tipped arrow could be trained on any one of us at this very moment. I could be the next victim! Oh God!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Phil, patting Emma’s arm awkwardly. ‘I think whoever did this will be long gone by now, and once we get under cover of those trees over there, I reckon we’ll be safe. Best we do as Matt says and stay close, though.’

  Emma nodded mutely, reached up to deposit a quick kiss on Brad’s lips and then linked Mia’s arm with hers. Together, the threesome made their way back along the pathway across the field, at the end of which Phil took great care to refasten the wooden gate behind him. Brad stared after them, a touch of envy in his expression, his broad shoulders sunken under the weight of the ongoing trauma.

  ‘I’ll just go and see if there’s any sign of that ambulance,’ announced Matt, scrambling to his feet. ‘Could you sit with Rick until I get back, please, Brad?’

  ‘Oh, I … yes, okay.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ offered Rosie when she caught sight of the anguish and confusion on Matt’s face.

  A spasm of sympathy rushed through her chest. She was sure that the very last thing he would have expected to deal with during an early morning hike to the Garside Priory was one of his charges being shot by a stray arrow. Only Rick appeared to be suggesting that it was no accident and that someone had targeted him. As she followed Matt through the mystical archway, her whole body froze when another, more sinister thought occurred to her. Did Rick’s shooting have anything to do with the fact that she and Matt suspected something had been added to their evening coffee? And if so, what did it mean? Who could…

  She was prevented from chasing that terrifying scenario down blind alleyways by the sharp indignant barks of a young black-and-white Collie who had rushed up to greet them. The Collie’s owner, a man in his late fifties wearing a well-worn wax jacket straining over his well-padded stomach, issued a whistled warning and the dog returned to heel.

  ‘Grim business,’ the man grunted, a tight expression stretching his weathered face as he inclined his head towards the priory while holding out his hand for Matt to shake. Seeing their astonished expressions, he continued, ‘Freddie Armstrong just called to ask me to open the bottom gate so the ambulance can get through.’

  ‘Rosie, this is Giles Barringer, he owns the land around the priory.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Giles.’

  ‘So, who is the guy?’

  ‘Richard Forster – chairman of the Myth Seekers Society I told you about,’ explained Matt, bending down to fondle the dog’s silky ears. ‘Found him collapsed in the central cloister with an arrow through his leg. Better be careful, we’re not sure whether the perpetrator is still in the area.’

  ‘Right you are,’ said the farmer as though that sort of thing happened all the time. He eyed Matt for a few moments before he spoke again. ‘Well, no one came by the farm – that I can guarantee you. Our Bess here, and her sister Meggie, go mental whenever strangers breach their radar. Reckon whoever it was must have come up via your overnight camp.’

  ‘Thanks, Giles. I’ll keep you informed.’

  They bade the farmer farewell and strolled back towards the cloister in silence, each subsumed by a swirl of unpleasant thoughts and theories as to what might have happened.

  ‘Are you going to confront Rick about putting a sedative in our coffee?’

  ‘Actually, after what’s just happened, I think I might have been a bit quick to jump to conclusions.’

  ‘So you think the two things are connected?’

  ‘Possibly. But you’re right, we do need to ask Rick about it.’

  When they arrived, Brad was slumped against his rucksack, his knees drawn into his chest, keeping a close eye on Rick who had passed out again.

  ‘Why would anyone want to shoot Rick?’ mused Rosie, almost to herself, as she sat down next to Brad.

  ‘Well…’ began Brad, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Rick definitely hadn’t woken up. He fiddled nervously with the zipper of his Gore-Tex running jacket, a vein working overtime at his temple.

  ‘If you know something, Brad, you have to tell us,’ snapped Matt, sitting up straighter and fixing him with a stern stare. ‘This is a very serious situation; one which could have a devastating effect, not only on my business, but on Freddie and Mia’s futures, too, if we don’t get to the bottom of what happened quickly. We can’t just brush this under the carpet and file it away under a heading marked “accident”. The police are going to be involved, they will want to investigate what happened, and even if it turns out to be an organized field archery expedition that went seriously wrong, visitors to the area might think twice about booking an outward-bound activity – especially if there’s an outside chance of getting shot with a stray arrow, don’t you think? This is mine and Rosie’s livelihoods at stake!’

  ‘So, you really think the police will want to question us?’

  Rosie heard the catch in Brad’s voice when he said the word ‘police’. How
ever, she stored it away for future dissection when she saw the familiar gleam in Matt’s eyes as he gave her a surreptitious nod. She knew exactly what he was thinking. If they could persuade Brad to open up about the Myth Seekers Society, maybe they could work together to uncover the truth surrounding Rick’s injury – just as they had in August with Suki Richards’ poisoning – before the consequences destroyed their respective businesses.

  What if Rick’s injury meant they had to cancel the Autumn Leaves party at the end of the week? Mia would be devastated, not to mention everyone in Willerby who had helped to organize the celebrations and whipped up homemade contributions. After the debacle with Harry in London, she had a lot to be thankful to the community for, and she was prepared to do whatever it took, not only to maintain her happy home in the little circular studio above the Windmill Café, but also to ensure that what had happened to Rick did not reflect badly on the reputation of Ultimate Adventures and that the Willerby residents had a fabulous Hallowe’en party.

  ‘Please, Brad, Matt and I just want to help.’

  The thought of teaming up with Matt again to unravel a mystery sent a frisson of excitement cascading through her veins and sparkling out to her fingertips. However, she recognized that the cauldron of emotions whipping through her stomach were not solely connected with the chance to investigate another mystery, but also to do with the way Matt was holding her gaze and the fragrance of his citrusy cologne that tickled at her nostrils.

  ‘Brad?’

  ‘Okay, okay, sorry,’ said Brad, running his fingers nervously through his hair. ‘Well, I could be way out of line, but here goes. I’m sure you’ve both noticed that none of us like Rick very much – he’s an obnoxious bully and a complete pain in the backside. If someone had given me a quiver full of sharpened arrows, I might have taken a pop at him myself. But, if it wasn’t some random stranger, then out of all of us I reckon Phil has the strongest motive for wanting him to suffer.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Rosie, tipping her head back so she could look Brad in the eye, her natural inquisitiveness reasserting its dominance. She could almost feel her father, who had adored mysteries just as much as she did, sending down vibes of encouragement to seek out the truth and slot each new discovery into the overall jigsaw to form a picture of exactly what had happened.