by Agatha Frost
“You cook?”
“Sure,” she lied. “Lots of things.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Liz said, scrambling for any reason other than the truth. “It would be nice to cook for someone in my new kitchen.”
“That sounds perfect,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Elizabeth.”
Liz left Christopher to get on with his work without even having taken a sip of her coffee. With Paddy by her side, she walked back towards her shop, wondering if she had just made a stupid mistake. It was not just a case of leading Christopher on; she could not cook even if her life depended on it. Could Christopher really have murdered Frank, or was it just a coincidence that he also had rat poison? How many other people in the town had access to poison?
Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, Liz turned her attention to what she was going to cook for Christopher. Could she buy a takeaway meal and hope he did not notice? After slurping oysters in The Sea Platter, she was not sure a Chinese takeaway and a bottle of wine from the corner shop would go down too well. Even if it was not a real date, she wanted him to be relaxed enough so she could covertly interview him.
Liz walked past the pub, and cast an eye down the alley beside it, half expecting to see Mandy having another sly cigarette while the football match played inside. Instead, she saw something far more unsettling.
With Paddy by her side, Liz walked carefully down the alley, her eyes trained on a hand poking out of the yard’s door, a mousetrap on the end of the fingers. Just from the tightness of the knuckles, Liz suspected the worst.
Pushing on the back door, she let out a gasp when she saw the scene in front of her. Paddy barked loudly, the lead slipping out of her hand. He ran into the yard, pushing the door wide open, immediately resting by the body’s side.
“It’s too late, boy,” she gulped, aware of the shakiness in her voice. “He’s dead.”
Liz stared down into the eyes of Adam, as he stared lifelessly back at her in a pool of his own blood, a green glass bottle lodged in his throat. The pub’s back door opened and Mandy slipped out with a packet of cigarettes clenched in her fist. Mandy noticed Liz, and then she spotted her dead boyfriend on the ground between them. She let out a blood-curdling scream, which Liz recognised all too well.
11
Liz found herself outside Driftwood Café late the next morning, waiting for Nancy. For the first time since arriving in Scarlet Cove, clouds blocked the sun, and the sea breeze felt more like an icy chill than anything soothing. Liz’s red hair broke free of her ears and fluttered across her face, making her wish she had tied it back. She tucked it back and pulled her cardigan across her chest, glad when she saw Nancy scurrying down the street towards her in a bright yellow skirt and a pink shirt.
“Sorry I’m late!” Nancy cried. “There was a mix-up at the gallery. Our gift shop stock got mixed up with that of a kids’ toyshop, and I don’t think Katelyn would have been very happy to see us selling rattles and jigsaws.”
“It’s okay,” Liz replied, forcing back a yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I’m not surprised,” Nancy said, rubbing Liz’s arm. “Seeing two dead bodies in the space of a week can’t be the best thing. Stuff like this never happens here.”
“That’s what the police kept saying last night. The fact I used to be a detective didn’t seem to mean anything to them. They were questioning me until midnight.”
“Do they think you have something to do with it?” Nancy asked, clutching her mouth. “That’s awful!”
“Well, I did find both bodies. I’d suspect me too.”
Leaving the icy breeze, they walked into the small café. Cheerful cornflower blue walls and matching chairs made a smart contrast with black and white square tiles, the tables covered in red and white gingham tablecloths. Much to Liz’s relief, the café was quiet. She did not doubt news of her finding Adam’s body had spread like wildfire, but she was not in the mood to answer more questions.
The café’s elderly owner, Violet Lloyd, came over when they sat at a table near the window. Her greying hair was pulled back into a netted bun, and her face, while lined, still had a youthful quality to it.
“What can I get you ladies?” she asked with a smile, licking a pencil and flipping to a new page in her notepad. “The cheese and onion pie is exceptionally delicious today.”
“Can I have an ice cream float?” Nancy asked after glancing over the menu. “Cheese and onion pie sounds good to me.”
“Me too,” Liz said, not in the mood to look over the unfamiliar menu. “I’ll have the same.”
Violet scurried away and into the kitchen behind the counter. Nancy smiled sympathetically across the table at Liz, seeming to notice her low mood. When Nancy had called that morning insisting to meet for lunch, Liz had been touched that she had met someone who cared so much about her, even if she had wanted to spend the day under the covers in the solace of her flat.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to,” Nancy said, obviously intrigued. “We can talk about the weather or Simon?”
“You’re itching to ask me everything, aren’t you?”
“Folks have been gossiping,” Nancy said apologetically. “I just want to know the facts straight from the detective’s mouth.”
“Retired detective.”
Violet hurried over with their ice cream floats on a tray. She quickly put them on the table and hurried away again.
“It was definitely foul play,” Liz said, knowing the subject was unavoidable. “He had a broken bottle sticking out of his throat. He didn’t fall into it.”
Nancy’s eyes opened wide as she slurped on her straw.
“I thought people were exaggerating,” Nancy gasped. “A bottle?”
“It wasn’t a nice sight,” Liz replied before sipping her drink.
“Who would want to do that to Adam?” Nancy wondered aloud, wiping ice cream from her lips. “He was just a kid. He wouldn’t harm a fly.”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Liz mumbled through a mouthful of ice cream. “Whoever killed Frank killed Adam too. I had suspected Adam might have been the one to poison the man who fired him, but apparently not.”
“Why would they want to kill Adam too?”
“Maybe he knew something that someone didn’t want him to tell anyone about?” Liz suggested after another sip. “Or, he figured out the truth, which if he did, means he was a better detective than I am.”
“Don’t you have suspects?” Nancy urged, shuffling forward on her chair. “You must have it figured out by now.”
“What part of retired means nothing around here?” Liz asked with a stilted laugh. “Of course I have suspects, but this isn’t my case. I can’t start interviewing people to find out what I want to know.”
“But you have been asking questions, right?”
“Out of habit, more than anything,” Liz admitted. “So far, I’ve narrowed my list down to a handful of people. I couldn’t really sleep last night, so I had time to think about it.”
“Who?” Nancy asked excitedly. “Tell me.”
Liz noticed Violet edging across the café with their food, so she decided to wait. She turned and looked out of the window. She spotted Mandy walking past the market square, presumably on her way from the pub. She looked well put together considering her boyfriend and father had died in the same week.
“Is Mandy on your list?” Nancy asked, following Liz’s gaze. “Look at her walking around as if nothing has happened. I couldn’t face getting out of bed if Dad and Jack died. It doesn’t even bear thinking about.”
Violet put their food in front of them before hurrying back behind the counter. Liz looked at the cheese and onion pie with her knife and fork in hand, unsure if she was even hungry.
“What would her motive be?” Liz asked. “What does she get from killing them both?”
“A motive? This is so exciting. You sound like you’
re back on the job. Aren’t the police looking into it?”
“Of course,” Liz said with a nod as she cut into the crust. “They took statements from everyone at the pub last night. They gave me the impression they don’t deal with murder a lot.”
“Well, they don’t,” Nancy said. “It’s only Scarlet Cove. Nothing ever happens here.”
“Everyone thought Frank’s death was an accident,” Liz countered. “I always sensed something else, and I was right. Now that Adam is dead too, it’s hard to deny there’s definitely something happening here, Scarlet Cove, or not.”
“Just don’t go getting yourself killed,” Nancy urged. “I’ve become pretty attached to you.”
They both tucked into their pies, and as Liz suspected, it was delicious. She wondered if Simon’s cheese was involved in the flavour.
“It would seem Laura and Michael are back together,” Liz said after she swallowed a mouthful of the pie. “They looked rather close at the pub yesterday before –”
“Laura and Michael?” Nancy jumped in. “Back together? I don’t think so. That’s just how they are. They stayed friends after she left him for Frank. Maybe it’s a little strange, but they’ve known each other for so long, but it’s better than constantly arguing. I couldn’t imagine breaking up with Jack and having to see him every day. I suppose it would be easier to be civil.”
“They looked more than civil,” Liz added after another mouthful. “They looked like –”
Before Liz could finish her sentence, Simon walked into the café carrying a crate, his face pale, and his eyes red. He headed into the kitchen with Violet.
“What’s that look?” Nancy asked with a sly smile. “You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not,” Liz fired back, her cheeks hot. “There is no look.”
“I heard about your little chicken feeding date.”
“Why does everyone in this town think it’s a date every time a man and woman spend more than ten minutes together?”
“Because it usually is.”
Liz twirled her fork around in the pie mixture. She had to admit her interaction with Simon at the farm had felt more like a date than anything she had experienced with Christopher, which made her feel even guiltier for her planned date with Christopher that evening. She had almost cancelled that morning, but her need to question Christopher had prevented her.
Simon walked out of the kitchen with the empty crate, his eyes meeting Liz’s. His smile twisted like a knife in her stomach, but she tried her best to smile back.
“How are you doing, Simon?” Nancy asked. “I heard Adam was working for you.”
“I’m doing okay,” he said with a shrug. “Adam didn’t deserve this. He was a good lad. I just don’t know why anyone would do that to him.”
“They will be caught,” Liz assured him. “It’s almost impossible to hide when you’ve killed twice.”
Simon nodded, seeming soothed by her reassurance. She knew she was in no position to speak on behalf of the police, but if she had been the detective in charge of the case, she was sure she would have wrapped things up soon after Frank’s death.
“The CCTV was wiped at the pub,” Simon said as he scratched the side of his head. “That’s what Shirley said, at least. It could be anyone. I heard it was busy yesterday with the football.”
“Well, whoever it was, they’re going to great lengths to cover their tracks,” Liz said, trying to avoid Nancy’s ‘I told you so’ look. “They can’t hide forever.”
“I hope not,” he said with a forced smile. “I’ll see you girls later. I have to get back to the farm.”
Liz nodded, ignoring the foreign urge she had inside to hug Simon.
“I didn’t realise they were that close,” Liz remarked, pushing her half-finished pie away. “He seems so upset.”
“He’s a sensitive guy,” Nancy replied, pulling Liz’s leftovers towards her after finishing her own. “Adam used to help him out now and then when he wasn’t fishing. You know what guys are like. They bond over burping and football in five seconds if you leave them in a room together. Are you going to finish this?”
Liz shook her head. She slurped her drink, the ice cream having completely melted into the fizzy pop.
“Whoever wiped the CCTV must have known what they were doing,” Liz thought aloud. “It knocks one person off my list of suspects.”
“It’s not Mandy, is it?” Nancy asked as she stared at Liz’s pie. “She was there, and she would know how to wipe the CCTV. The woman works there.”
“She’s probably the police’s prime suspect,” Liz said. “And it’s Christopher that I’ve wiped off. I just realised I was with him at the harbour when it happened. Even if he had somehow killed Adam in the time it took for me to walk from the yard and into the pub, he wouldn’t have had time to wipe the CCTV, run around, meet his sister and then bump into me.”
“Christopher was a suspect?” Nancy asked. “Why?”
“Because he wanted to fire Frank, and he had rat poison in his office.” Liz paused and slurped up the last of her drink. “And I’m not saying Mandy didn’t do it, but I still can’t pin a motive to her.”
“You’re the detective,” Nancy said with a shrug. “You’ll figure it out. I have faith in you.”
Liz smiled at her friend before motioning to Violet to send the bill over. Miles used to say similar things to her back in Manchester. Even if she had no clue where to start or what evidence to focus on first, his confidence in her skills had always given her the boost she had needed.
After splitting the bill, they walked out into the chilly air. Michael was sitting on a bench on the edge of the empty market square, bundled up in a scarf and jacket.
“Poor guy,” Nancy said as she pulled her handbag over her shoulder. “Maybe it would be better if Laura finally cut ties. I think he’s holding out that she’ll take him back. I should get back to the gallery. The dragon lady will start spitting flames if I’m even two seconds late.”
Nancy hugged Liz, leaving her to walk back to her flat alone. When she was back inside, she sat on the couch with Paddy by her feet. She pulled out her phone and scrolled to Miles’ name. She almost called him but stopped herself. She did not want to worry him, nor did she want to admit he had been right about small town life being even more hectic than city life. Tossing her phone onto the coffee table, she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine, not caring that it was the middle of the afternoon.
Sitting at the kitchen table with her wine, she tried to piece the dots together. The only person she could connect both Frank and Adam to was Mandy. Was Nancy right? Could Mandy have really killed her father and boyfriend? Liz took a deep sip of her wine, sure she was missing something right under her nose.
12
The buzzer went off, almost on cue. Liz looked down at the mess she had made in her kitchen while attempting to prepare spaghetti Bolognese, the easiest meal she could think to make.
“Just a second,” she called as she ripped her apron off, before bending over and picking up the fallen mushrooms and onion.
After giving the bubbling red mixture one last stir, she ran across her flat, almost tripping over Paddy, who was sprawled across the floor in front of the flickering muted television. Liz unlocked the front door with a press of a button. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, wiped her sauce-covered hands on the back of her black jeans, opened the door, and applied her friendliest smile.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly when Christopher reached the top of the stairs. “Right on time.”
“Hello, Elizabeth,” Christopher said, offering a bottle of wine. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my own bottle. I have particular tastes. You look lovely, as always.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, wondering if he could see where the sauce had spit all over her shirt. “This looks like good wine. I heard if a bottle of wine has a map on the back, it’s the good stuff.”
Christopher blinked vacantly as she clo
sed the door behind him. She laughed nervously, unsure of why she was acting so strangely. Reminding herself it was not a real date, she took the wine through to the kitchen.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Christopher said as he looked around the bare flat. “It’s very minimal. Did you paint this?”
He paused and nodded at the painting of the sunset hanging over the fireplace.
“I painted it looking out of that window,” Liz said. “Do you like it?”
Christopher assessed the picture for a moment, tilting his head as he tapped his finger against his chin.
“I dare say I do,” he said. “It’s different.”
“Your sister hated it.”
“She did?” Christopher asked, arching a brow. “Well, I suppose she is the expert.”
Liz grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and wondered what qualified Katelyn to be the authoritative voice on art. She cracked open the expensive wine and filled the glasses to the top.
“Generous measure,” Christopher commented when Liz joined him in staring at the painting. “When is your grand opening? I hope I’m invited.”
“Everyone is invited,” she said vaguely. “Next Saturday, I hope. I haven’t decided a date yet. I’m still waiting on some stock arriving.”
Christopher nodded before sipping his wine. Liz copied him, taking an even bigger gulp. She could sense the awkward tension in the air, which she had not been expecting. For her, it was an opportunity to question Christopher properly, but for him, he was on a date. Had she used the word ‘date’ when inviting him to dinner? She could not remember, so she took another gulp of wine.
“Can you smell burning?” he asked, wrinkling his nose and turning to the kitchen.
“Bloody hell!” she cried. “The Bolognese!”
Liz ran through to the kitchen and sighed when she saw her sauce bubbling over. It had spat red liquid all over her kitchen. She quickly turned down the heat and attempted to stir it, but it had completely stuck to the bottom of the pan.
