by Agatha Frost
“Are you any relation of Chris Monroe?” Liz asked as she followed the woman into her office.
“You mean Christopher?” she snapped, glancing over her shoulder as she marched over to her desk. “He’s my brother.”
“That makes sense,” Liz mumbled under her breath as she looked around the ornately decorated office, which looked like an extension of the gallery.
Katelyn sat behind the desk and pulled a pair of delicate spectacles out of a box. She flicked on the green lamp, which matched the one on Nancy’s desk, and held her hand out as she stared over her glasses at Liz. The woman could not have looked more disinterested if she tried.
“I don’t usually look at uninvited work,” Katelyn said as she snapped her perfectly manicured fingers together.
“Thank you?” Liz said, unsure if she should be grateful.
Sensing Katelyn’s growing irritation, Liz propped her paintings against the desk and selected two of her favourite pieces. The first was a skyline of Manchester she had painted in her final days living in the city, and the second was the painting of the sea she had started before finding Frank’s body and finished later at her flat. She was not sure if these were her best pieces, but she liked the contrast of the grey city next to the bright sky.
“I have more,” Liz said, her eyes trained on Katelyn’s icy expression. “These are just some of-”
Katelyn silenced Liz with a finger, her eyes trained on Liz’s brush strokes.
“I’m afraid it’s not the kind of work we display here at Scarlet Cove Gallery,” Katelyn said, pulling her glasses off and giving Liz a look she knew was to let her know she had wasted her precious time. “You could always ask the café.”
Liz opened her mouth to speak, but she did not know what to say. It took a lot for another person to render Liz speechless, especially after so many years working as a detective, but as she stared at the disinterested gallery owner, she realised this was one of those rare occasions.
“I suppose you’re the woman who went on a date with my brother last night?” Katelyn asked, mild amusement in her stony voice. “Unless there is another red-headed Elizabeth in town?”
Liz opened her mouth to speak again, but no words came out. Had Katelyn known exactly who she was from the moment she had seen her?
“It wasn’t a date,” Liz mumbled feebly.
“I’m quite busy, Elizabeth,” Katelyn said, grabbing her glasses again before looking down at the paperwork on her desk. “Close the door on your way out.”
Completely dumbfounded, Liz stared at the woman for a moment, before scooping up her paintings and heading for the door. With her paintings under her arm, she stayed outside for a moment, wanting to march right back in to give the pretentious manager a piece of her mind. Liz had not expected to have her work on the walls by the end of the day, but she had not expected such a verbal lashing from a woman she thought might be at least interested in discussing art.
With her tail between her legs, Liz hurried down the corridor, not wanting Nancy to see her with an embarrassed look on her face.
“Liz!” Nancy called after her as Liz headed for the door. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Liz said, stopping in her tracks to face her friend as she scurried around her desk. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Nancy said soothingly, rubbing Liz’s arms. “What did she say to you?”
“She hated my work,” Liz said, glancing down at the paintings, wondering if they were better suited to the bin than a gallery’s walls. “How do you work for someone like that?”
“I try to stay out of her way,” Nancy shrugged. “I just love being surrounded by the art. It’s the only thing keeping me here. For what it’s worth, I love your style. Katelyn wouldn’t know real art if it hit her in the face. She only likes the classics. Once your shop opens, everyone will see how great you are.”
“I don’t know about that,” Liz said, feeling her cheeks blushing. “I’ll see you later. I was going to pop into the salon. I’ve not had my hair trimmed in what feels like a lifetime.”
Liz walked out of the stuffy gallery, the fresh air relaxing her. She smiled up at the sun, promising nothing was going to ruin her mood. If Katelyn hated her work, she would just have to up her game and paint something better.
Liz set off down the street, following behind two elderly women who were talking in whispers. It was not a habit of hers to eavesdrop on strangers, but their conversation instantly pricked up her ears.
“Poison, you say?” one of the women mumbled, gasping dramatically. “Who would have done such a thing to poor Frank?”
“It’s just terrible isn’t it, Sylvia?” the other lady replied. “It’s quite the scandal. I heard from my Bobby whose girlfriend works at the station. They’re going to announce it any day now, but I think they’re scared of spooking the killer.”
“A murder in Scarlet Cove?” the other woman said. “Quite the scandal indeed.”
Both of the women slipped into Driftwood Café, leaving Liz on the corner of her shop’s street. She allowed herself to smile for a moment for being right about it being murder, but it quickly dropped when she realised the murderer was still out there.
After dropping her paintings in her shop, Liz set off towards the hair salon, knowing she would never book herself in if she put it off any longer.
“Your hair colour is gorgeous, babe,” Polly Spragg, the owner of Crazy Waves, announced in her thick Essex accent. “Is it natural?”
“This is just how it grows,” Liz replied, assessing her bushy red locks in the mirror.
“Wish I could pull this colour off.” Polly leaned over and dragged Liz’s long curls across her forehead. “I don’t have the complexion. Too tanned. I’d look like a carrot, wouldn’t I, babe?”
Polly tossed her head back and cackled, following it with a deep snort. She looked quite young, her peroxide blonde beehive and glowing orange tan both as unnatural as each other. Her makeup was too thick, her clothes too tight, and her heels too high, but Liz decided she liked her. She wore her personality like a badge of honour, and Liz found something quite pure about that.
After a minute of back and forth, Liz agreed to have her hair straightened so Polly could achieve the best cut.
“I heard about your dad, babe,” Polly announced. “Must be awful for you.”
Liz looked under her hair and into the mirror, suddenly noticing that Mandy was behind her having her nails done at a little white desk. Mandy looked up from her phone with a blank expression. She forced a smile in Polly’s direction, but she did not seem all that grief stricken.
Liz was so focussed on watching Mandy in the mirror, she did not notice that Polly had finished straightening her hair. When she looked up, she barely recognised her reflection.
“You look gorgeous, babe!” Polly beamed, clapping her tanned hands together. “You should wear it straight more! It suits you.”
Liz turned her head, unsure of what she thought. She had once straightened her hair for her sister’s wedding, but she had convinced herself it did not suit her, and had never reattempted it. She wondered if Polly was an exceptionally talented stylist, or if her own attitudes were softening.
“It’s different,” Liz said, running her fingers through her hair, which now felt six inches longer.
Polly got to work trimming Liz’s dead ends and shaping it a little around her face. When she was finished, Liz not only looked different, but felt five years younger.
“You look ready to catch a man,” Polly exclaimed with another snort. “I love it!”
Polly ripped the gown off, sending the trimmed hair to the ground. Liz looked at the nail desk, but it seemed like Mandy had slipped out while she was being distracted by her hair. Fifty pounds lighter, Liz left the salon, tossing her straight hair over her shoulder.
She set off home, a new spring in her step. As she passed the market square, she noticed Simon packing up his stall. He looked up and stared at her for
a moment, not seeming to recognise her. When the recognition kicked in, he quickly looked away. Liz could not deny she felt a little disappointed. She almost wanted to explain her dinner date with Christopher, but she did not know what it would achieve, or why she cared so much that he should know it did not mean anything to her.
9
Paddy pulled eagerly on his lead as Liz walked towards Simon’s farm, the hot sun beating down on her. The humidity had already turned her straight hair from the day before back to frizz. Deciding it would be better off her face, she paused to tie it at the base of her neck with the bobble around her wrist.
Relief surged through her when the farm came into view on the horizon. Nancy had given her vague instructions, but Liz had wondered if she had been wandering aimlessly in the countryside for twenty minutes.
It looked bigger and more professional than the rundown farm she had imagined. There was a large, modern metal structure next to the old farmhouse, which she guessed was where the cows were milked for the cheese and ice cream. Liz walked past a giant tractor, unsure how her presence at the farm would be received.
She spotted a young man lifting a small hay bale, sweat dripping down his red face. He heaved it off the back of a truck before wiping away the sweat. She instantly recognised him as Frank’s fired apprentice, Adam. Liz was going to leave the boy to his work, but Paddy had different ideas.
“Paddy!” Adam beamed as the dog ran towards the apprentice, his lead trailing behind him. “What are you doing up here?”
Adam bent over to stroke the dog before looking suspiciously up at Liz. She smiled at the young boy, hoping he was not about to tell her she was trespassing.
“You must be Liz,” he said, holding out his hand. “I heard the new woman took over looking after Paddy. I didn’t put two and two together when I saw you walking him at the pier the other day.”
Liz smiled awkwardly, knowing he was bringing up their meeting at the pier before she had a chance to. It was a technique she had seen criminals apply in interviews when they wanted to control the narrative of a situation.
“I couldn’t see him going to the shelter,” Liz said, joining him in scratching behind the dog’s floppy ears. “We’ve become quite the team.”
“Frank would have wanted him to be looked after.” Adam stood up and wiped his dirty hands on his faded jeans. “I think he’s the only one the old bugger loved.”
“Have you heard what happened to him?”
“The poisoning?” Adam asked, his young, chiselled features twisting, making him look older. “Word travels fast around here. I only found out this morning, but they’re saying it was rat poison.”
“Rat poison?” Liz echoed as she picked up Paddy’s lead. “I never heard that part.”
“I heard some woman talking about it on the bus this morning,” Adam said, shrugging defensively. “I think it was in today’s paper.”
“Are you working on the farm now?” she asked, looking around for a sign of Simon.
“It’s only a couple of hours a week,” Adam said as he wiped his face with the end of his t-shirt. “Simon’s a good guy. It’s weird to think I would have been without a job either way.”
“Why’s that?” Liz asked, deciding to play dumb. “Did you leave?”
“He fired me,” Adam mumbled bitterly, his eyes narrowing on Liz. “Weren’t you there? With that Turtle woman?”
“Was that you?” Liz replied. “My memory isn’t what it was. Why did he fire you? Not catching enough fish?”
“I was good at that job, and he knew it,” Adam said defensively. “He’d been acting weird for weeks, and then he suddenly flipped out one day out of the blue.”
“That sounds odd.”
“I think he found out I was seeing his daughter,” Adam admitted. “We tried to keep it secret, but it’s a small town. I can’t help that I love her.”
“Is that Mandy?” Liz asked, stroking behind Paddy’s ears again. “The barmaid?”
“That’s her,” he said with a nod. “I’d seen her around a lot, but I didn’t really speak to her until I started working for Frank. She was going through a messy divorce. I became a shoulder to cry on. We never meant for anything to happen, but it just did, you know? I don’t even know why he’d be bothered. He was dating someone younger than him.”
“Laura?” Liz asked. “I heard about that.”
“What you probably didn’t hear was that they split up a couple of days before he died,” Adam continued, arching his brows at Liz. “Had a huge row in the Fish and Anchor. Mandy told me about it. Said Laura ran out in tears.”
“They’d split up?” Liz echoed. “Why?”
“No idea,” Adam said with a shrug. “I should really get on with this. I don’t want it to look like I’m slacking. I can’t afford to lose another job.”
Liz nodded her understanding and turned around with Paddy. She almost considered leaving the farm immediately so she could go to her flat and think about everything Adam had told her, but she spotted Simon grooming a large golden horse outside a row of stables.
She was at the farm to try and diffuse the misunderstanding surrounding her non-date with ‘Fishy Chris’, so that was exactly what she intended to do. With Paddy by her side, she set off across the yard, her heart stammering more with each step.
“You were a detective,” she whispered under her breath. “Pull yourself together, woman.”
She slipped into Simon’s eye line, causing him to freeze. He gave her a similar uneasy look to the one he had given her when she had walked past the market the day before with her freshly straightened hair. She pushed forward her friendliest smile, hoping it would ease him.
“L-Liz,” he stuttered, his cheeks blushing. “I didn’t expect to see you up here.”
“I wanted some more of that delicious ice cream,” she replied lightly. “It really is the best I’ve ever had.”
“My ice cream?” Simon replied, scratching the side his head. “Didn’t you have some on your date with Fishy Chris?”
“It wasn’t a date,” she replied sternly. “He asked if I wanted to go to dinner. I hadn’t been to The Sea Platter, so I accepted. Well, I didn’t even accept. He just assumed I did.”
“It’s none of my business,” Simon said with a shrug before continuing brushing the horse. “You can date who you want.”
“It wasn’t a date,” she repeated again with a strained laugh. “I know you don’t like him, but –”
“It’s nothing to do with not liking him.”
They stared at each other for a moment, both of them knowing what he meant, but neither of them wanting to admit it. Liz could not deny the chemistry she felt every time she was in the farmer’s presence.
“Why don’t I show you around?” Simon suggested. “I’ll get this one back in her stable and give you the official tour.”
“That sounds perfect,” Liz said before letting out a relieved sigh. “Lead the way.”
“I can’t believe every animal on this farm has a name,” Liz said, sitting next to Simon on a large hay bale behind the stables. “How do you keep up?”
“This place is my whole life,” he said, looking around with a contented smile. “It’s going to be mine one day when my folks retire.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s all I want,” he said bashfully. “I love it here.”
“I can see why,” Liz said, joining him in looking out at the sprawling fields. “It almost feels like this is the whole world.”
“I suppose people think I’m a loser living up here with my parents still,” Simon said after a lick of his ice cream. “Especially at my age.”
“I don’t think that,” Liz reassured him. “It’s sweet.”
“I have my own little cottage behind the farm house,” he said, nodding to the large house. “It’s falling to pieces, but it’s somewhere I can lock the door and get some sleep in peace.” Simon paused to check the chunky watch on his wrist, instantly jumping up.
“I didn’t realise it was so late. The chickens were supposed to be fed half an hour ago. They’ll be going crazy.”
“I can’t imagine they’d notice the time?” Liz asked sceptically.
“They get fed on the dot every day,” he said, holding his hand out for Liz to help her off the hay. “They’re very particular. You can help, if you want?”
“Me?” Liz laughed awkwardly, accepting his hand. “I’m not really dressed for it.”
“Sure you are,” he said with a wink. “I’ll lend you some wellies.”
Simon grabbed a pair of muddy boots from the horse’s tack room for her to cram her feet into. They were a little big, but they would do.
“This way,” Simon exclaimed. “Keep up.”
Feeling like her feet were not her own, Liz followed Simon with Paddy yanking on her arm. They rounded a corner, the large chicken enclosure coming into view. There had to be more than fifty chickens.
“Tie Paddy up there,” Simon said, pointing at the fence.
Liz did as she was told, while Simon grabbed buckets of golden chicken feed from a tiny shed next to the enclosure. Simon passed a bucket to Liz with an amused look before unclipping the gate.
“Be careful,” he cautioned with a dry smile. “They might bite.”
Liz laughed awkwardly, unsure if he was joking or not. Either way, she ignored her apprehension and followed him into the enclosure, reminding herself that she had dealt with the worst humanity had to offer; she could handle fifty chickens.
Once inside, the birds swarmed around their feet, proving Simon’s point about them knowing when it was feeding time. She hoped they weren’t so hungry that they were going to peck through her borrowed wellies.
“You just have to shuffle,” Simon laughed as he demonstrated. “Scoop it out and toss it. They’ll leave you alone when you feed them.”
Liz nodded, dipping her hand into the grain. She watched Simon disperse the feed as he shuffled forward, so she copied his exact moves. Just when she thought she was getting the hang of it, she stepped back, her foot landing on one of the chickens. It startled her with a squawk, causing her to spin around. Before she realised what was happening, she landed on her backside, the bucket of grain flying from her hands, the feed sprinkling across her chest. The chickens swarmed around her, some of them jumping on her chest to treat her like an all you can eat buffet.
