by Poppy Blake
‘They’re here!’
Rosie went to greet Phil and Steph at the door of the wooden reception lodge and wasn’t surprised to see that Phil’s face had drained of whatever little colour he had. He hesitated on the threshold, nervously pushing his spectacles up to the bridge of his nose and fiddled with the numerous zipped pockets of his combat trousers. For once, he didn’t have his camera slung around his neck and he was clearly at a loss to know what to do with his hands.
‘Hi, thanks for coming over. Matt’s in the kitchen making some coffee for us. Why don’t you grab a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here?’
‘Thanks, Rosie,’ smiled Steph, ushering her husband towards the pine table in the corner of the room. She smoothed the skirt of her peach-and-mint printed dress over her buttocks and sat down gingerly on the flimsy plastic chair.
‘Thanks for letting me take a look at the Myth Seekers Society’s accounts, Phil,’ began Matt as he placed the tray carrying the coffee mugs onto the heavily scarred table before going off to collect his laptop.
Phil looked like he was on the verge of tears. His lips parted to reply to Matt, but no words came out. Steph grabbed his trembling fingers and raised her chin so she could face Matt and Rosie head on. Rosie could see from the expression on Steph’s face that she knew exactly what Matt had found in the books and had taken the decision to speak about it before being asked to justify the irregularities.
‘Phil was given the unenviable task of being the Myth Seekers club treasurer, but he has never professed to be the world’s greatest bookkeeper. Heaven knows why Rick didn’t just take over the whole damn society, especially as accountancy is his area of professional expertise. Richard Forster isn’t a very nice person, as I’m sure you have discovered already. He’s a bully who dishes out disparaging remarks like confetti, not only to Phil, but to Brad and Emma and most of the other long-standing members – some of whom felt they had no option but to leave. But Phil and Brad love the club so they stick it out. Yes, the accounts are a mess and Phil would bring the books home and worry himself stupid about them.’
‘And the two unauthorized withdrawals?’ asked Matt, getting straight to the point.
‘They were to pay for a plaque to commemorate the Myth Seekers Society’s twentieth anniversary,’ said Phil, casting a quick glance at Rosie. ‘Brad and I followed the correct procedure for its proposal as laid down by Rick’s recently introduced written constitution; we drafted a resolution, submitted it to the committee – which was quorate – and put it to a vote. It was rejected because Rick didn’t want it to go ahead, probably because it wasn’t his idea – and he held the casting vote.’
‘So why the withdrawals?’
‘I was determined to mark the anniversary. I know it was wrong, but I went behind Rick’s back and ordered the plaque anyway. It was more expensive than I had anticipated and I couldn’t afford it myself, so I paid for it out of the Society’s funds. I admit I made two unauthorized withdrawals – the first was for the deposit and the second was to pay for the plaque on delivery. I broke the rules. Rick found out and threatened to report me to the police for theft.’
All the while he spoke, Phil studied his fingernails in his lap. Now that he had confessed his crime out aloud he glanced across at Steph, his eyes brimming with tears, but he seemed to gain strength from her unwavering support.
‘I know what I did was wrong. Rick insisted it was his duty to inform everyone in the club what I’d done, and that he had to follow the written procedures laid down in our constitution for such misdemeanours which was to report the matter to the authorities. He only postponed his trip to the police station because he didn’t want to spoil Helen’s weekend treat. I know all this makes it look like I have a jolly good reason for wanting to get my own back on Rick, but I had nothing to do with what happened, I swear.’
‘Of course you didn’t, darling,’ said Steph, her expression indignant. ‘Look, Matt, my husband’s a decent and honest man, who’s never even held a bow and arrow, never mind used one. Rick Forster was an arrogant dictator who made plenty of enemies, in his professional life as well as his personal life. I have no doubt Rosie has filled you in on how he has treated Helen? That man takes an inordinate amount of pleasure from victimizing and belittling good people who perhaps aren’t as accustomed to the cut and thrust of life in the fast lane as he is. I think we should be looking in a different direction for the person responsible for shooting him.’
Steph sat back in her chair and folded her arms, a challenge in her eyes – which melted like a chocolate fireguard when Matt said, in his usual imitable way, ‘I agree with you, Steph. Can you tell us about your own movements yesterday morning?’
‘My movements?’ Steph spluttered, her soft, powdery features stretching in surprise at the unexpected question. ‘I didn’t shoot Rick if that’s what you are implying! I dislike him tremendously but I wouldn’t sink so low as to make him part of my life in any way. These people are best ignored in the hope that they’ll crawl back under the dark dank stone they came from!’
‘So, your movements yesterday?’
Steph stared at Matt, then looked at Rosie with incredulity.
‘Steph, dear, you’ve got nothing to hide. Tell him.’
‘Well, as you know, Helen and I were the only guests still at the lodges on Sunday night. I couldn’t sleep so I decided to make a cup of hot chocolate and that was when I saw Helen disappear in the Porsche. I went back to bed and my alarm woke me at seven-thirty as usual. I showered, dressed and made myself some breakfast then snuggled up on the sofa to read my book. That was when I noticed the note Helen had pushed through the door saying she had gone to the village which she clearly wanted me to discover first thing in the morning. We all know where she was, don’t we?’
‘So no one can vouch for your whereabouts between 10 p.m. and when the camping group returned to inform you that Rick had been shot?’
‘Well, I … well … no, I suppose…’
‘Let’s just think this through for the sake of conjecture. You could have driven out to the priory, shot Rick as an act of revenge for the way he treated your husband and to stop him from reporting his discoveries to the police, then returned to your lodge without anyone knowing you had left.’
‘Now wait just a minute, Matt! Steph’s a committed pacifist, she even insists that I carry spiders outside instead of washing them down the plughole. Really, I must insist…’
‘Sorry, Phil, but this is the sort of thing that the police will be considering when they interview you.’
‘Really? And how is Steph supposed to have mastered the intricacies of bowmanship? It’s not something you can do without intensive training, you know. And although the first arrow missed, the second was pretty accurate.’
‘That’s a very good point. I’ll definitely make some enquiries about archery clubs in the Manchester area.’
‘Good!’
Silence descended and the atmosphere was as thick as treacle. Unlike Matt, Rosie was a great believer in intuition and her gut instinct was telling her that neither Phil, nor Steph, had anything to do with Rick’s shooting. Both of them had had ample opportunity to cause Rick harm in a much easier fashion than going to the trouble of learning the correct way to hold a bow. However, they couldn’t discount Phil or Steph just yet. Then another idea pinged into Rosie’s head.
‘Can I make a suggestion, Phil?’
‘What?’
‘It looks like Rick’s probably going to be in hospital for the next few days at least, and then he’ll need some time at home to convalesce. I think if you were to re-present your resolution for the commemorative plaque to a newly-convened committee – without Rick in attendance – the proposal might be carried in your favour, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Yes, yes I do. Thanks, Rosie, I’ll do that. Look, find out who did this, will you, so we can all get back to normal.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re trying our best,’ muttered Matt, downing the
last dribble of his coffee and returning his mug to the tray with a clatter.
In a reversal of their arrival, it was Phil who lead Steph from the wooden cabin, his arm around her waist, whispering platitudes as he went. Matt, on the other hand, dropped his head into his hands and Rosie groaned in frustration too.
‘So, that went well,’ said Rosie.
‘True, this mystery-solving lark is a lot harder than you think! We still have four suspects on our list with excellent motives for wanting Rick out of the way – none of whom have alibis – and we’ve still got Brad and Emma to talk to.’
‘Hang on, I thought we’d discounted Helen and Tim?’
‘As they’ve provided each other’s alibi, don’t you think there’s a possibility they could have done this together?’
‘Oh, yes, I never thought…’
Rosie’s head began to throb. One step forward, two steps back! How proud would her father be now?
Chapter 14
‘Fancy a drink at the Duck?’ asked Rosie.
‘Love one.’
‘Why don’t you leave your car here and I’ll drive. Would you mind if I swing by the windmill to collect a jacket? I might walk home later.’
‘No problem, although I’d be happier if you ordered a taxi.’
‘In case I get shot by an arrow?’ Rosie teased, meeting Matt’s eyes and feeling her heart give a bounce of attraction.
She thought back to the afternoon they had spent by the sea at the end of August when Matt had chased her through the waves, splashing freezing water in her face, and how the day had ended in them kissing on the beach. That had been the day they had bared their souls to each other, pouring out their personal histories, discovering that behind any calm exterior, turmoil and heartache can reign supreme until you find the courage to banish the demons that occupy the darker corners of the mind.
Since that day, her relationship with Matt had steadily deepened and whenever she was in his company she knew they had achieved a mutual understanding of what had happened to make them who they were, but it was so much more than that. For the first time since she’d broken up with Harry, Rosie felt she could let someone into her heart and she craved the opportunity to repeat the kiss they had shared in the bushes outside the B&B in Willerby. Talk about unconventional! But that was what made their relationship all the more interesting.
‘I’ll wait in the car, just in case I have an allergic reaction to the intense smell of chlorine you’ve got going on in the café,’ Matt joked, but she saw the gentleness in his eyes.
Like Mia, Matt was aware of her struggle with the cleanliness ogres. She had also confided in him that the catalyst had been the loss of her father and the ensuing wrench from the comfortable life she had known until then. But, with the help of her sister, and after meeting Harry and hoping that he would be her partner for life, the monsters had crawled back into their grim, angst-ridden boxes for a while – only to return six months ago when she had found Harry rolling around amongst the dahlias and the chrysanthemums with Heidi.
Fortunately, working in a café environment meant it was easy to deflect curious enquiries about her over-the-top obsession with hygiene as a respectful regard for the Health and Safety regulations, and she had managed to hide it from all but the most observant of onlookers. She knew she would have to relent to her sister’s encouragement to seek counselling one day, but she wasn’t ready to talk through her issues with a stranger just yet. However, with the constant friendship and support she had found in Willerby that possibility was starting to peek its head above the parapet and demand attention more regularly.
‘Okay, I won’t be long.’
Rosie jogged to the windmill, wondering whether she should get changed and try to do something with her unruly waves, but she discarded the thought immediately. Neither Matt, Freddie or Mia cared about what she looked like. They loved her for who she was, not whether her hair was twisted into a perfect chignon or her eyelashes were coated with lashings of dark brown mascara. However, she did decide to give her new cashmere cardigan an airing.
She opened her bedroom door and the shock rushed at her with a vengeance. Her hand flew to her chest and she gasped in horror. Without waiting, she spun on her heels, tumbled back down the spiral staircase and sprinted to the car park, her breath coming in ragged spurts both from the sudden onslaught of exertion and the fright.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Matt, jumping out of the passenger seat before she arrived, his face creased in concern.
‘I … well, I think it’s probably better if I show you.’
Together, they rushed back to her flat and, swallowing down her fear, Rosie pushed open her bedroom door. She pointed to the white rattan chair next to the window where her collection of soft toys was enjoying the view – apart from the careworn bear she had loved for twenty-eight years who now had an arrow protruding from his brown furry chest. The sight was so unnatural that she felt physically sick, but she knew her reaction would not have been so severe had any of her other bears suffered the same fate. Mitzy held a special place in her heart because he had been her father’s childhood bear and, ridiculous though it sounded, she felt as though someone had entered her private inner sanctum and attacked a member of her family.
A spasm of dread rippled through her veins and sparkled out to her fingertips. She opened her mouth to say something to Matt but the words caught in her throat and she had to sink down onto her bed to catch her breath.
‘I’m scared, Matt. Someone’s obviously been in my flat, in my bedroom, while I was with you at the outward-bound centre. Do you think it’s because we’ve been asking questions about what happened to Rick? Perhaps the person responsible thinks they’re about to be discovered and this is their way of warning us off? Oh God, excuse me!’
Rosie dashed to the bathroom but managed to hang onto the contents of her stomach. She splashed her face with cold water and spent a few moments pulling herself together.
‘Let’s go downstairs and I’ll make us some tea,’ said Matt. ‘Then I think we should report this incident to the police straight away. They’ll probably want to come over and take a look tonight.’
In mute acquiescence, Rosie followed Matt down the stairs to the café. She watched him make his call to the police and then fill the kettle, warm the pot, and pour out two mugs of strong tea, feeling as though she was floating from the ceiling watching actors perform a stage play on the ground below. She smiled her thanks, but the sight of the thick brown beverage turned her stomach and she rushed outside to the terrace to inhale huge gulps of the cold, autumnal air until her ears pricked up at the sound of conversation.
‘I’m bored, Brad! You might think it’s fun being cooped up in a tiny kitchen baking a few twee cakes to pass the time, but I don’t. Why can’t we go home, or at least spend the day windsurfing or riding the zip wire over at Ultimate Adventures?’
‘You know the centre is shut!’
‘So what?’
Rosie watched Emma stalk towards her on the terrace. Displaying an expanse of naked chest under her lime-green Gore-Tex running hoodie, she looked like she was ready to launch straight into a marathon along the North Norfolk coast. There wasn’t a spare inch of fat on her slender frame, testament to her addiction to extreme sports. Brad, who had remained where he was, unsure whether to follow his girlfriend, also rocked the muscular and toned look, and Rosie noticed again how heart-churningly attractive he was – they made a perfect couple.
‘Oops, I’m sorry, Rosie, I didn’t mean to…’
‘It’s okay, Emma. Actually, Matt’s here at the café. Why don’t you ask him if he’s got any suggestions to keep boredom at bay? I’m sure there’s lots of adrenalin-pumping activities to choose from if you’re prepared to travel a bit further afield.’
‘Awesome, that’s more like it. Is there an indoor archery range, too? Steph told us you and Matt were planning to call a few as part of your on-going “investigations”?’
A smirk t
weaked at the corners of Emma’s mouth when she highlighted the word investigations with her fingers. Satisfied she had hit her mark, she dashed inside the café and plonked herself down on the sofa next to Matt, stretching out her legs, flexing her trainer-clad toes and lifting her sinewy arms above her head before running her fingers through her hair. Brad hesitated for a moment before deciding that it was a good idea to give Emma some space, shrugged at Rosie, and turned to go back to the lodge.
‘You’re so lucky, Matt. Brad and I would love to work somewhere like Ultimate Adventures, but we always try to join in with every extreme sports challenge we can – gorge scrambling, canyoning, free climbing, orienteering. We also did the Three Peaks challenge last month with a couple of friends who joined one of your team-building courses last year, so when Brad told me Rick had arranging a trip down here for the myth seekers to visit some ancient stones or other, well, I was straight on to it. I didn’t think I’d be forced to sit through a cookery tutorial, though. No offence, Rosie.’
‘Well, actually I did ask … never mind.’
Rosie caught Matt’s eye. He gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head, clearly hoping that she would let Emma talk in case what she said shed some light on her involvement with the group. However, after what had just happened in the place she called home, she couldn’t think straight. Questions were rotating through her brain like bingo balls in a tumble dryer.
How long would the police take to get there? Would they want her to vacate her flat? Would they expect her to go to the police station to give a statement? Had Emma and Brad been hanging around outside the café, waiting for her to return home and find her poor teddy bear speared by an arrow? Were they there just to watch her reaction? Or was the perpetrator concealed in the Willerby woodland with a pair of binoculars trained on her every move? Or an arrow?
Thankfully, before Rosie could pose any more improbable questions and drive herself closer to the precipice of her sanity, Emma continued with her exuberant chitchat.
