A Move to Murder: A Bride's Bay Mystery

by Helena Lamb

  The sun was still high in the sky but was not so intense now and the island was a haze of soft greens. The sea was calm, highlighted by flashes of silver, and small waves bubbled and whispered onto the shingle beach. Beth sat down near the water’s edge and gazed at the water, while Charlie ran backwards and forwards, sprinting into the sea then immediately running out to shake vigorously then repeat the game. Sailing boats glided silently back and forth, their sails colourful against the silvery blue water. Out of habit, Beth sifted the shingle around her through her fingers, searching out interesting shells and pebbles to take home and then maybe into school for the children to use for art and craft sessions. Today’s search proved fairly fruitless and Beth glanced at her watch and straightened up, calling Charlie, to head home for a quick snack before going to Carol’s.

  “I can see what you’ve done, those marks are for the shoulder pleats, not those” Beth pointed to the tiny black marks on the paper pattern and Carol peered over her shoulder.

  “Ugh, I knew I should have picked a pattern for a sleeveless dress”.

  “I’ll pin it for you, then you’ll be fine”.

  The two women sat down and Beth began unpicking the stitches Carol had made in error.

  “So I hear we have two newcomers? One bombshell and one useful man?”

  “Well, certainly a bombshell. I don’t know how useful he will be, I haven’t met him yet. But he’s a retired lecturer so probably not very practical, a dusty, dry academic I expect.”

  “Carol! That’s a bit of a generalisation! He might have lectured in car mechanics, or engineering or carpentry or something”.

  “Do they have degrees in carpentry? If they do, I don’t suppose it’s called that these days” doubtfully.

  “Anyway, I have a feeling Ken said it was economics, or business or something.”

  “When I walked past today, someone was drilling in there, so he must be quite practical” Beth reasoned.

  “How do you know it was him? It could have been a workman, or a friend, or anyone.”

  “Poor man!” laughed Beth. “You’ve got a down on him already!”

  “No I haven’t, I’m just reserving judgement until I meet him and get to know him.” Carol was at her dignified best.

  “Huh. When did you ever wait to form a judgement?! There, all done. Now, tell me about Sunday, how are Florence and Noah?”

  Beth handed the half-finished dress to Carol who folded it away on her sewing table and led the way downstairs. The evening sun was shining through the stained glass window on the landing, splattering blue, red and yellow patches on the white wall. The oak flooring glowed a deep honey colour on the hall floor as Beth followed her friend through the light, airy sitting room and the original French doors into the conservatory. Worn wicker chairs and sofas looked out over the garden, a pile of magazines was scattered over the small table and an impressive tower of Duplo bricks adorned the floor. Beth stepped carefully around it to avoid knocking it down, to reach the sofa. Carol’s home was like her, thought Beth; warm, welcoming, comfortable. She and Ken had lived in the house for over thirty years, bringing up two children; now their granddaughter skated on the oak flooring, played on the swing hanging from the tree and made dens in the shrubs and borders. Noah at only seven months was content to lie and gurgle at the shadows cast by the sun through the trees. Lucky children, mused Beth, having Carol and Ken for grandparents. Carol had been the first friend Beth had made when she had moved to Bride’s Bay; the first person to call round and talk openly about the accident that had taken Beth there, taking Beth in her arms and rocking her back and forth when the grief of it all had been too much. She had called round every day with meals for Beth and her niece; had washed and ironed, kept the fridge stocked and helped Beth with Nell, when the young girl, still a child, had refused to go to school or leave the flat. How she would have got through that time without Carol, Beth had no idea; or without Reverend Mark and his wife, who had also been there with emotional and practical support, helping her to plan the funeral when her mind screamed it shouldn’t be happening. Later, Ken had been a rock helping her to find a small house to move to and sorting out builders and decorators and the various tradesmen needed to get the little house ready for her and Nell. What a time that had been, and how weak and helpless she had felt. Now, ten years later, Nell was a beautiful young woman and Beth was content, but she would never forget those dark days and how Carol had helped her get through them.

  An hour passed comfortably with a bottle of wine and chat about grandchildren, church business and town affairs until Beth glanced at her watch and stood up.

  “Do you want Ken to run you home?”

  Beth shook her head. “No, thanks all the same, it’s a nice evening to walk. See you tomorrow.”

  Beth went out through the garden gate and began the ten minute walk home. The sun had set and the air was warm and scented. Voices drifted to her on the air, the hum of lawn mowers and chink of dishes. Beth strolled back along the seafront, making out the bobbing lights of fishing boats and the fuzzy lights over on the island, Charlie padding along beside her. The lights were also blazing from every window in Alma House and Beth smiled as she remembered Carol’s character analysis. “I hope the poor man knows what he’s doing, moving to a small town like this, he’ll have no privacy. But I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

  Chapter 2

  “So unfortunately the poor man used to get confused between which bodies were for his work and which were for pleasure!”

  Melissa raised her glass with long, slim fingers immaculately tipped with a rich coral colour. Her nails perfectly matched the stunning silver and coral necklace and earring that swung from her ear, the other hidden, at least Beth presumed it was, behind a cascade of rich brown waves. Carol was right; Melissa certainly was a bombshell, and funny and friendly with it. Beth had received a text that morning from Carol, asking if it would be alright if she invited Melissa to join them that evening, at their usual Thursday evening get together at the local bistro, as a way for Melissa to get to know some people. Beth had read it, understanding immediately the sub context, as a way for Carol to get to know Melissa! But so far the evening had been fun; Melissa had been pleased to accept the invitation and had been sitting at the bar when the others arrived. To Beth, who was still uncomfortable waiti

  ng at a bar on her own and always tried to arrive after the others, Melissa had been the epitome of confidence and elegance; perched on a bar stool in a simple white shift dress, long tanned legs ending in strappy white sandals, her chestnut hair thick and glossy around her shoulders. When she had turned round to greet Beth, her deep brown eyes had been warm and friendly, fringed with long black lashes and framed by perfect arched brows. And yes she did have perfect cheek bones, thought Beth, reflecting on her own cheekbones which presumably she had, albeit well hidden beneath her own softly padded cheeks.

  The four women had moved to their table in the window and conversation had flowed easily, Melissa exhibiting an ease of conversation and a wicked sense of humour. Within an hour, the three women had found out enough about the newcomer to satisfy even Carol; where she had moved from (Clifton), what she did (a trained nurse but had given that up to pursue her hobby of painting), how she had lived with Neville, a surgeon in Bristol, for six years, until his wandering eye wandered one time too many.

  Why on earth would someone with Melissa for a partner drift elsewhere? wondered Beth.

  “So he promised it would stop, he would never stray again....ha ha, as if! So I decided on a fresh start, a move to somewhere new.”

  “What made you pick Bride’s Bay?” asked Gina curiously.

  “Location.” Melissa poured herself more wine. “I wanted somewhere with a fast train to London, I go there quite regularly to promote my work. Plus an airport and you’re spoilt for choice here with three, but I also wanted to be near water; I love rivers, lakes, sea, you name it. I can work anywhere so this seemed to tick the boxes.”


  “But you haven’t bought?” queried Beth.

  Melissa shook her head. “No, I’m renting for a year then who knows? If I decide to settle here, I will look for something to buy, if not, I shall move on. It’s an adventure, who knows what may happen!”

  “Well, I think a toast is in order” Carol raised her glass and the others followed suit.

  “Welcome Melissa! And here’s to adventures!”

  Melissa left before coffee, pleading unpacking still to do but Beth suspected it was the woman’s way of being tactful enough to give the three friends time on their own.

  “Phew she’s a whirlwind” Gina leaned back in her chair. “But a nice whirlwind!”

  “She certainly is. Lots of energy there to get involved….”

  “Carol! Give the poor woman a chance and let her settle in before you drag her onto this and that committee!” exclaimed Gina.

  “I will! But if you want something done, ask a busy person, and she looks as though she would be efficient and reliable.”

  “She’ll certainly raise a few pulses! Can you imagine her nursing?!” marvelled Beth.

  “Actually I can” Gina looked thoughtful. “She’s very glamorous but she’s kind and cheerful. All those funny tales of people she has worked with and so on, but she never once said anything spiteful or catty about them, not even about Neville.”

  “I wonder if she’s on the lookout for another man” Carol began, to be immediately interrupted.

  “No! Carol, stop it, leave the poor girl alone” laughed Gina. “You’ve tried with me, you’ve tried with Beth, can’t you realise some of us are happy on our own?”

  “Well! I only try to help.”

  “We know, and we love you for it” Beth patted her hand, “But I think Melissa can find her own man, without any help from you!”

  The three women stood to gather up their belongings and pay.

  “I wonder what the new man Tom looks like?” queried Carol as they made their way outside.

  “He might be a George Clooney lookalike, or Daniel Craig!” teased Gina.

  “Daniel Craig!” Carol stopped, closing her eyes and clasping her hands to her chest. “Be still, my beating heart!”

  “You’ve got your own James Bond at home!” Beth nudged her.

  “So I have! And not much difference between the two!” The three women burst out laughing, each thinking of short, stocky Ken, with his balding head and glasses.

  “He’ll do for me, though!” She hugged Beth, then Gina, and turned to walk the short distance home.

  “See you Sunday” Gina kissed Beth’s cheek and slid elegantly into her sports car, waving as she drove away. Beth walked quickly home, the day had been warm but now the air had a coolness to it and she wished she had brought a warmer jacket. Lights twinkled on the island and on the beach, where the evening fishermen sat, and the moon was almost full, shining down on the sea. A line of Shelley popped into Beth’s head, “and the moonbeams kiss the sea”. They certainly were tonight.

  He didn’t look like George Clooney. Nor Daniel Craig.

  Beth had woken up later than usual on Sunday morning, stirred from sleep by Charlie, pawing her arm and looking at her quizzically, his little black head to one side. Saturday had been busy, cooking in the morning for Nell and Will’s visit, a long walk at the nature reserve in the afternoon and an evening of food and wine and chat, hearing all about Nell’s job as well as getting to know Will. The young man had been quiet, content to sit and relax while Nell chattered on and Beth saw to the food and drink. But he was polite and at ease, sitting with his long legs stretched out and a warm expression in his brown eyes as he listened to the conversation between Nell and her aunt. He was also quick to jump up and help Beth and Nell clear the dishes and tidy up. Well brought up, thought Beth, good for you, Will’s mum, whoever you are. It had been late when they had left and Beth still had to finish the tidying and take Charlie out for a quick walk. So this morning she had washed and dressed quickly, pulling on a white cotton top and simple blue cotton skirt that she realised to her dismay had a stain on it, as she hurried along the High Street. Even her sandals looked scruffy. The navy nubuck sandals with Velcro straps had looked smart when she had bought them, and were certainly comfortable, but had not worn well and looked shabby. Not like Melissa’s sandals last night. Melissa wouldn’t be seen in Velcro, Beth was certain, recalling the high heels and thin white straps encasing Melissa’s perfect feet. Oh well, Melissa wasn’t running around after fifteen young children every morning, or walking a dog three times a day. For now she would tuck her feet out of sight and hide the stain on her skirt with her bag. She quietly let herself into church and sat near the back, only greeting people in the queue for coffee after the service.

  “Beth, Beth.” She turned at the sound of Carol’s voice to see her friend beckoning her to a table across the hall. Balancing her cup and saucer and bag, and imagining everyone’s eyes on her crumpled top and stained skirt, Beth weaved her way through tables, acknowledging greetings, until she reached Carol’s table and saw a tall, sturdily built man standing up to pull a chair out for her.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at the unfamiliar face, realising Carol was talking.

  “Beth, this is Tom Callow. Tom, my good friend Beth Bryson.”

  “Hello, Beth.” The man smiled down at her, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners, holding out his hand. Beth put her cup and saucer and bag down and felt her hand gripped in a strong, warm handshake.

  “Hello, nice to meet you, and welcome to Bride’s Bay.” Beth had to look up to make eye contact, her eyes being on a level with the pocket on his light blue cotton shirt.

  “And welcome to St Andrews, Tom’” chimed in Frances, seated on Tom’s other side. “What parish have you come from? Were you involved there? I do the flowers here and of course we always need side’s men and church wardens and….”

  Tom managed to stem the flow with a smile, turning to Frances.

  “I was admiring the flowers, they’re stunning. And now I know who is responsible.”

  “Well” preened Frances, patting her short silver hair “I do my best.... and I do have some help” she added reluctantly, catching Carol’s eye. “Some of the other ladies are on the rota, we take it in turns, but I have the overall responsibility, you know.”

  “The garden with my new house is a real plantsman’s garden, you are very welcome to call round if you want to see if there’s anything you can use in church” offered Tom, unwittingly saying exactly what Frances had been desperate to hear and being rewarded with profuse thanks and a smile that transformed Frances’s usually stern face. She really did have beautiful skin, Beth thought, and lovely pale blue eyes, but her mouth was usually grim and her movements quick and impatient.

  “That’s very kind. Mr Simons, the previous owner, let me cut some for the church and it would be wonderful to do so again. May I call round tomorrow?”

  The conversation became more general and Beth had the opportunity to study the newcomer, noticing with a small smile that Carol was doing the same, though not so discreetly. He wasn’t as old as Beth had assumed, mid-fifties maybe, and had thick sandy reddish hair, flopping slightly over his forehead, faded to a peppery blonde around the temples. Tall, well over six feet, not overweight, but broad shoulders and solid. As he leaned forward to take a programme of church events from Ken, Beth saw his eyelashes were thick, reddish brown and his hands were large and tanned. No, not George Clooney, she thought, but nice looking and he and Melissa would make an attractive couple, then chided herself for being as bad as Carol.

  “Sorry.” Beth blinked and realised a question had been addressed to her. Flustered, she picked up her cup and it dripped coffee on to her skirt from where it had slopped into her saucer during her slalom through the hall. Bother, another stain. “Beth! Here.” Carol handed her a tissue and Beth mopped at the underneath of the cup and the patch on her skirt. Carol diverted attention from her friend, seeing her blushing with
mortification and biting her lip.

  “Tom was asking if dogs are allowed on the beach. I said yes, up until the end of May. You walk Charlie on the beach every day, don’t you?”

  Beth nodded. “The main part of the beach is dog free from the end of May until the end of September, but you can walk them on Pebble beach all year round, that’s the part from the sailing club round to Stern Head. If you go over the road from your house onto the beach and go left to the sailing club you can walk all the way along to the headland. That’s where I usually walk Charlie.” She had regained her composure now although her face still felt red and sticky. How warm it was in here. She wished someone would open a window or the doors to the gardens.

  “I’ll have to explore with Tess. We’ll find our favourite walks.”

  “Tess? Your wife?” Carol’s innocent expression didn’t fool Beth.

  Tom laughed. “No, no. Tess is a beautiful blonde, but a beautiful blonde Labrador. She’s nearly twelve now and slowing down, but that suits me. Gentle strolls along the beach sound just about right. And that’s my cue to go and take her for a gentle stroll before lunch. Many thanks for your company, good to meet you all.”

  Tom stood and smiled around, raising his hand in farewell and walking across the hall to the door with long, easy strides, seemingly unaware of the several pairs of eyes watching his progress.

  “Coming back for another coffee, Beth?”

  “No thanks, Carol” Beth shook her head. “Poor Charlie hasn’t had a walk yet today and I’ve got some chores to do.”