by Agatha Frost
Liz stepped back and placed the candle back on the table, knowing the fewer things she touched, the better. Something underneath the table caught her attention; a thick scrapbook.
“Liz,” Nancy said, resting her hand on Liz’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Liz reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her winter gloves. She slid them on before reaching for the book. She opened the first page, and almost stopped breathing altogether. She scanned the first page as she attempted to steady her erratic pulse.
“It’s Nathan,” Nancy whispered as she looked down at the picture. “Who did this?”
Liz stared at the picture of Polly’s boyfriend. A huge red cross had been scratched over his face in red pen, almost ripping through to the next page. Compelled to see more, she carried on turning the pages. There were various newspaper clippings from the local paper detailing the case. On the final page, there was a picture of Daniel, which looked like it had been snapped through his restaurant window. Liz was surprised to see that she was also in the picture, along with Christopher. A red circle had been drawn around Daniel’s face, and a question mark over the top of Liz’s frizzy red hair.
“It all makes sense,” Liz said, stepping out of the room as she pulled her phone from her pocket. “I know who killed Nathan. I can’t believe I didn’t see this. I need to research something to prove it.”
“What?” Nancy asked, edging forward. “What is it?”
“Ever heard of a man called Gary Crabtree?” Liz asked. “I think it all hinges on him.”
14
The single light bulb fizzed into life as they hurried back down the narrow corridor. She looked back at the shrine, hoping it would be less sinister in the light; it was not.
They headed towards the wooden stairs hand in hand. Nancy tripped, dragging Liz’s arm back. Something metal clattered, and water splashed against Liz’s shoes.
“Are you okay?” Liz asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nancy said, steadying herself. “This stupid mop bucket was in the way. Let’s go.”
After taking the steps two at a time, they hurried past Misty’s dressing room and back into the bar, where Misty had resumed her set. Liz looked around the bar, everything appearing to be back to normal, but she felt like they were in a different reality, the basement nothing but a nightmare.
Still hand in hand, they resumed their seats at their table, their wine exactly where they had left it. Nancy was about to take a sip of hers, but Liz put her hand over the top.
“Never leave a drink unattended,” Liz said. “Especially not in here.”
“I need something for my nerves, Liz,” Nancy said, her hands trembling. “I’m so freaked out. We need to go to the police.”
“They’ll find a way to pin it on Daniel,” Liz said with a shake of her head. “If they’ve already charged him, it will take a miracle to make them back track.”
“So, we’re going to wait for a miracle?”
“We’re going to get a confession.” Liz stood up, grabbing the two glasses of wine. “Stay here and don’t move. I’ll get you something stronger.”
Liz took the two glasses of wine back to the bar. While Patsy served a man at the other side of the bar, Liz poured the wine into the beer drip tray. She slid onto one of the stools and pulled out her purse, her hands trembling as much as Nancy’s. She turned to glance at the stage, hoping Misty would stop singing soon so they could talk, but her eyes landed on Christopher. Her blood boiled, but for an entirely different reason.
“I thought I’d find you in here,” Christopher said, a confident smile plastered across his face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“What’s wrong?” she echoed, feeling every ounce of anger from the past few days building up at once. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Christopher. I found out about your little deal with those suppliers you suggested. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
Patsy walked over but immediately turned on her heels when she saw the look on Liz’s face.
“Now isn’t the time, Elizabeth,” Christopher hissed, his eyes darting around the bar. “I was trying to do you a favour.”
“Now is the perfect time,” she said, making no effort to lower her voice. “I’m not some damsel in distress you can just throw money at to impress.”
“I was trying to help.”
“But I didn’t ask for your help,” Liz snapped, her face burning. “A favour is one thing, but going behind my back to fill up my account with the cash you took from Daniel?”
“He’s a murderer,” Christopher said with a dry laugh. “How are you still defending him?”
“You are just like my parents,” Liz said, ignoring his comment about Daniel. “If you can’t fix a problem, you just throw money at it, hoping it goes away. I wanted to succeed by myself. It’s my problem, not yours.”
The silence stretched out between them, Christopher staring at her like a wounded puppy. She could feel the eyes of onlookers looking in her direction.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking a little. “I – I thought I was doing the right thing.”
His eyes dropped to the ground, making Liz instantly feel guilty for her outburst. She blinked hard, forcing herself to remember that he had gone behind her back, but now that she was looking at him, a part of her wanted to believe that his intentions had been pure.
“I’ll be using a different supplier from now on,” Liz said after a calming breath. “I’ll also be returning the money.”
Christopher nodded glumly, looking like a child who had just been scolded for taking one too many biscuits from the jar. Instead of trying to defend himself, he turned on his heels and headed straight for the door.
“What was that about?” Nancy asked after hurrying over. “Did you confront him?”
“I think I was too harsh,” Liz said as she tried to catch Patsy’s attention to order their drinks. “He says he was just trying to do me a favour.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nancy said as she adjusted her glasses. “We have bigger fish to fry than Fishy Chris. Misty has finished singing.”
Liz glanced over Nancy’s shoulder, surprised to see the stage empty. She had been so wrapped up in her argument with Christopher, she had not noticed that the music had stopped.
She turned back to the bar to tell Patsy she did not want to order after all, but she was already holding two glasses of wine in her hands.
“You look like you need these,” Patsy said as she handed the glasses over. “On the house.”
Nancy gulped down her wine in seconds, but Liz’s stomach was too unsettled. She took a sip, leaving it on the bar when Patsy turned away.
“Come on,” Liz said. “We need to talk to Misty.”
“Okay,” Nancy said, pausing to burp up the wine. “I needed that.”
They hurried through the bar, which seemed to be emptying quickly now that Misty had finished singing. When they were back at the entrance to the corridor, Liz felt disturbing quakes in her serenity when she looked at the door leading to the cellar.
“Maybe we should call the police?” Nancy whispered as they made their way towards Misty’s dressing room. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“Trust me,” Liz said. “I just need to talk to Misty to clear something up first.”
Nancy clung to Liz’s coat as they slipped into the room. As usual, Misty was sitting in front of the mirror, admiring herself as she wiped off her red lipstick.
“Do you mind?” Misty snapped, twisting in her chair, the tight dress making her movements awkward. “Why are you always in my reflection these days? You’re like my shadow!”
Misty spun back to the mirror, waving her hand as if telling them to leave. Liz straightened her spine, shook off Nancy, and stepped forward into the glow of Misty’s vanity bulbs.
“Misty, this is serious,” Liz said. “It’s very serious.”
“How can anything serious still be happening?” she shrieked, her hand slipping so t
hat red lipstick smeared down her porcelain-white chin. “My stalker is behind bars, my lover is still dead, and you’re still bugging me.”
Liz looked deep into Misty’s eyes via the reflection; it became obvious that she really did believe that Daniel was her stalker.
“Why are you so sure Daniel was the one who was watching over you when you slept?” Liz asked, resting her hands on the back of Misty’s chair. “Did you see him?”
“I’ve already told you!” Misty cried, tossing her makeup wipe onto the cluttered dressing table. “I saw a man dressed in black watching over me.”
“But you didn’t see Daniel specifically?”
“Well, no,” Misty said, her finely drawn brows pinching together. “But you were the one who chased him after he smashed Christopher’s window. You saw him. The police found the murder weapon in his bin. I was lucky I wasn’t the next victim.”
“You were never going to be a victim,” Liz said. “Not of murder, at least. You are one of the victims in all of this, but this whole thing has revolved around you.”
“Just like she thinks the whole world does,” Nancy mumbled from behind Liz.
Misty craned her neck around Liz to send daggers in Nancy’s direction.
“What do I have to do with Daniel smashing a window?” Misty asked. “I don’t even know that fish man.”
“Well, that’s the one thing that isn’t a part of all this,” Liz clarified, nodding carefully in the mirror. “But that incident made Daniel visible, meaning that the real killer could easily frame him. You saw a dark figure, and Daniel was arrested in all black. It was too perfect.”
“But he was obsessed with me,” Misty cried, shaking her head at Liz. “After I rejected him, he couldn’t accept it, so he tried to scare me.”
“That doesn’t sound like Daniel,” Nancy muttered. “He was a serial dater. You were just a blip on his radar. He moved on quicker than a horse at the races.”
“I don’t understand,” Misty snapped, her hands disappearing up into her perfectly lacquered hair. “What are you saying?”
Liz took in a deep breath, knowing the next thing she was going to say was likely to be met with stiff resistance.
“What do you know about Derrick?” Liz asked. “What do you really know about him?”
“Why are you asking about Derrick?” Misty replied, her patience seeming to be growing thin. “He’s my agent.”
“When did you first meet him?”
“Here,” Misty said, suddenly standing up so that she was face to face with Liz in her stilettos. “I moved to Scarlet Cove, got the job here, and he offered to represent me. After I found out about his brother in London, I knew it was meant to be.”
“Derrick was just a cleaner here, wasn’t he?” Liz asked, her voice trembling. “A cleaner who saw a pretty girl with big dreams and knew what to say.”
“I don’t understand what you’re -”
Before Liz could finish her sentence, a loud yelp from behind made them both turn around. In the doorway of the dressing room, Derrick had appeared, his arm suddenly around Nancy’s neck. His eyes were wide behind his thick glasses, and his wispy strands of remaining hair stood on end, his bald scalp glowing in the soft light.
“Derrick?” Misty cried. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t move,” Derrick cried, his arm tightening around Nancy’s throat. “I could snap her neck in seconds, and I will if I need to.”
Looking deep into Nancy’s terrified eyes, Liz raised her hands above her head. Misty did not follow suit, instead choosing to stare at the man she had trusted for years.
“What are you doing?” Misty cried. “Derrick, you’re scaring me!”
“No more games, Misty,” Derrick cried, a dry smirk taking over his lips. “The time has come. It’s time for us to leave this stupid town so we can be together. We’ll get rid of these two, and run off to London. I’ll make you a star like I promised!”
Derrick’s arm tightened harder around Nancy’s neck, causing her to shiver in pain. She writhed against him, attempting to break free as blood rushed to her round cheeks. Tears trickled from her tight eyes.
“You don’t want to do this,” Liz said cautiously, her hands still up. “Just let her go, and we’ll talk.”
“Talk about what?” he sneered, taking a step back and dragging Nancy with him. “You’ve ruined everything! I saw you in the cellar. I heard you coming, so I hid in the barrel room. Why couldn’t you just stay out of things and leave us alone?”
“What are you talking about?” Misty screamed, her emotions growing out of control. “Will somebody explain to me what is happening right now? I demand to know.”
“There’s nothing I couldn’t give you, Misty,” Derrick cried, his eyes growing wide as he smiled at the singer. “All you have to do is ask. I’ve already done so much for you. Nathan was never good enough for you. He dimmed your sparkle, so I got rid of him for you so you could soar.”
The penny dropped, causing Misty’s jaw to slacken. She stumbled forward, using Liz’s shoulder to steady herself.
“Tell me it isn’t true, Derrick?” Misty croaked, her voice barely audible. “You wouldn’t do something like that.”
“It was almost too easy,” he stated, no remorse in his voice. “Remember last year’s Halloween show when we re-enacted the beheading? Oh, you were marvellous in that. You showed your talent that night. We still had the props lying around. I didn’t even mean to order a real scythe, but I kept hold of it, just in case. When I caught you and Nathan in here the week before Halloween, I knew I had to fix this. I knew it wasn’t the real you. I knew you would never hurt me like that. Oh, I sorted it out all right, and it was child’s play. The second I saw Daniel being arrested outside, I ran around the back and dumped the murder weapon in his bin. I knew it would only be a matter of time until the police got the wrong end of the stick.”
“How did you know Nathan would be at the castle?” Liz asked, her eyes trained on Nancy as her red face began to turn a ghostly white. “Lucky guess?”
“I went to the salon to book Misty in for a trim,” Derrick said, his eyes lighting up as though he was pleased with himself. “You were right about Polly, Misty. She really is a bimbo. All I had to do was ask if she’d be at the castle, and she blurted out that she was going with her boyfriend.”
“Just let go of Nancy so we can talk about this properly,” Liz pleaded as Nancy’s lashes began to flutter. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“You know it was me,” he shot back, his grip tightening. “I can’t let either of you go now. This is how it has to be.”
“Derrick! Stop this now,” Misty cried, her voice similar to that of a scared child. “Liz is right. This isn’t Nancy’s fight.”
“The minute I saw you I knew,” Derrick whispered, a smile tickling his lips. “I knew you were the only one for me.”
Misty looked desperately at Liz. Not knowing what to say or do, she searched through her brain for what to do in a hostage situation. She had only been involved in two in her whole career, but she had had support from her colleagues. With Misty’s acid-tongue, Liz knew their chances were slim.
“Don’t look at her,” Derrick hissed, staring at Misty. “Look at me. You belong to me. We belong to each other. I have helped you become who you are. You’re my shining star, Misty. The only star bright enough in the sky to sparkle in the darkness.”
Nancy had completely sagged in Derrick’s arms; she had stopped weeping. The lights surrounding the vanity mirror fizzed and hissed, dimming and brightening up again.
“They do that sometimes,” Misty explained quickly, as though the trivial matter was suddenly important. “I can’t remember how many times I’ve asked Patsy to look at them.”
Liz stared at Nancy’s limp body, knowing time was running out. She looked around the room, hoping to see something she could use to attack Derrick. She spotted a collection of stiletto heels, wondering if she could get across the room quickly e
nough without startling him; she knew it was unlikely.
As though the Gods were shining down on her in that moment, one of the bulbs popped, shattering glass across the dressing table. Misty screamed out, jumping across the room. It was enough to startle Derrick, weakening his grip around Nancy’s neck.
Liz did not waste another second. She dove forward, dragging Nancy out of the man’s arms. She flung Nancy across the room, silently apologising for the rough move in her head. Derrick’s hand struck her face, forcing Liz to stumble back. She clutched her cheek, strands of her frizzy red hair strewn across her face. All of her police training vanished, instead being replaced with her primal instincts. With a single, swift, sharp kick, she sent the tip of her shoe up between Derrick’s legs.
The cleaner immediately dropped to his knees with a grunt, clutching his crotch. He sagged to the side, his eyes bulging as his face reddened like Nancy’s had. Liz’s fists clenched by her sides, but she resisted the urge to plant her knuckles in the middle of his face.
“Pass me something to tie his arms up,” Liz commanded. “Quickly!”
Misty looked around her dressing room, her fingers clenching a fistful of her hair. After a second of panic, she scrabbled through one of her brimming drawers. Settling on a sparkly, sickly green leotard, she finally tossed it to Liz. Straddling him with her knees, her training suddenly rebooting, she tied his hands securely behind his back.
“Call the police!” Liz ordered. “And an ambulance.”
Misty nodded before rummaging through the makeup on her dressing table for her mobile phone. Liz hurried to Nancy’s side, just as she began to cough and splutter, the colour flooding her cheeks in an instant.
“Are you okay?” Liz asked.
Nancy did not speak, instead nodding through hoarse coughs. Liz let out a relieved sigh as she looked back at Derrick. He attempted to stagger up to his feet, but before he could, Misty sent a jewellery box crashing down on his head.
“What the hell just happened?” Misty cried, the jewellery box falling to the ground with Derrick, costume jewellery spilling out around him. “How did you know it was him?”
