Raspberries and Retaliation

by Katherine Hayton

  “We don’t see you in here very often,” Holly said as Amanda Kahuna—the liquor store owner—dropped into the bakery. “What do you fancy?”

  “Goodness.” The woman clutched a hand to her chest, scrutinizing the array of cupcakes as though they were a lineup. “I’m not sure. What flavor do you recommend?”

  “We have a special on raspberry,” Holly replied. She’d amended the sign before the afternoon crowd came in, changing it back to their original special, and turned it toward the woman now. “They’re this row,” she added when Amanda continued to stare at the banana and cream cheese icing cakes.

  “Oh, no.” The woman gave a shudder at the sight of the raspberry. Crystal had been so pleased to get an early season bunch, but from the look on Amanda’s face, they were a terrifying prospect. “I couldn’t eat those,” she confided in a whisper. “They look like they’re covered in blood!”

  Holly sighed and stepped back, letting Amanda peruse the shelves without help. If there’d been other customers in the store, she might have intervened again, but the shop was empty. Something that Amanda turned around to confirm before opening her mouth again. Holly steeled herself for the query.

  It never came.

  “The police were in my shop this morning.” Amanda’s hands clenched together, and she shot a worried glance behind her before meeting Holly’s eye.

  Holly stifled a sigh and turned it into a polite query. “Were they?”

  “Yup. They wanted to know how many bottles of a certain brand of bourbon I’d sold over the weekend. The sergeant was especially interested in a sale I’d made to one of those family members down at the camping ground this week. He paid by credit card, so they’re sure of the name and the date of the sale.”

  Once again, the woman stared around the shop to check that no other ears were within hearing distance. Still, her voice dropped down a few more decibels until Holly had to lean over the counter to make out the words.

  “It was the boyfriend of that dead girl. Clarence.”

  Holly nodded solemnly, but when Amanda continued to gaze at her with an expectant look on her face, she found the least invasive piece of gossip she could respond with. “I’d heard that he liked a drink.”

  Considering how open Clarence had been about his state of drunkenness during the family reunion so far, Holly felt sure he wouldn’t mind her sharing.

  But the expectation on Amanda’s face turned into a glare of frustration. “No. I mean, the whole town knows that! I meant—” she leaned forward, once again speaking in a low voice “—your boyfriend isn’t the only person that the police are giving a serious look at. There’s more than one suspect that they’re following up on.” Amanda reached out and patted the back of Holly’s hand. “I just thought you’d like to know, considering.”

  Despite herself, Holly felt touched at the woman’s gesture. “Thank you for letting me know. It’s a relief.”

  Amanda nodded, looking satisfied as she walked out of the bakery without a cupcake.

  Chapter Eight

  As Holly was shutting up shop, Mrs. Hendrickson from the tavern next door called out to her. A pang of regret stabbed at Holly as she waved in acknowledgment, holding up a finger—one minute.

  She ducked back inside the bakery, though she’d been on the verge of locking the door. Holly had been so relieved that she got the chance to go home and crawl into bed, forgetting this day had ever happened. The effort to slap the same fake smile back into place was twice as hard because she’d thought it wouldn’t be needed again.

  When Holly walked in through the door, Mrs. Hendrickson was tied up with a customer, her turn to signal she’d just be a minute. Holly took a seat at a table near the window—one of the last on offer. Despite being a Monday, the tavern was packed full of customers. The food that they served at the bar was a draw card even when people didn’t want a night out, drinking with their mates.

  “Hoo, it’s been busy today!” Mrs. Hendrickson said as she came across and sat opposite her. “You want a glass of wine or something, luv? You look absolutely beat.”

  Holly wanted a glass of wine so much that she salivated at the mere mention of it. When she shook her head, it was with real regret. “Not tonight.” If she started drinking, then her current state of misery would make it hard to stop at just one. “What was it you wanted to see me about?”

  “Oh, I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. Yesterday must’ve been rough on you.”

  Holly nodded, feeling disappointed that the woman—who she thought of fondly, even if not quite a friend—had seen her exhaustion yet still wanted to pry. She shook her head. “It hasn’t been the easiest time. Really, I just need to get home and get a good night’s sleep.”

  Mrs. Hendrickson ignored the pointed answer, though, standing up to serve another customer at the bar when her husband was overrun. When she slid back into her seat, she grabbed hold of Holly’s hand.

  “The police were around here today.”

  Holly slipped her hand free as soon as it seemed reasonable and nodded. “I hear they’ve been questioning a few people around town.”

  “Doing their job, that’s all it is. No reflection on anyone.”

  “Of course, not.” Holly sighed and turned her head from side to side, easing out some tension as it clicked. “No one wants a killer on the streets if it turns out that it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Sure, sure.” Mrs. Hendrickson nodded. “They wanted to know about folks who’d been in here from the family reunion group and stuff. Or anyone else in town who was drinking a particular brand of liquor.”

  “Texas man bourbon,” Holly muttered under her breath.

  Not low enough. Mrs. Hendrickson nodded with a quick flash of a smile. “That’s the one. Not the most popular in our stable, but there’s a fair few in town who are partial to the taste.”

  Holly nodded again, wondering if the next time the woman stood up to help tend bar she could slip out the door and escape home. At the moment, she’d prefer to make excuses at some point in the future, than deal with the fallout right now.

  “I told them that I’d sold a couple of bottles,” Mrs. Hendrickson said, oblivious to Holly’s discomfort. “Now, I’m not tattling in telling you this. It’s purely for your peace of mind.”

  “Of course, it is,” Holly said, trying to disguise a yawn with the back of her hand and mostly failing.

  “Oh, you poor thing. You need a rest up, and you’ll feel all better. These nasty things do happen, and the only thing to do is keep trucking through them until you’re out the other side.”

  Holly nodded. “Hm.” The door opened, letting a few new customers and a breath of fresh air into the tavern. Mrs. Hendrickson turned, surveyed her husband’s queue, then shrugged and gazed back at Holly.

  “Well, I told Matthewson that we’d had a man purchase a couple of bottles of the brand he was inquiring about. I’m not usually one to pass on customer information, but since it was a case of murder, I don’t mind telling you, I didn’t even ask to see if he had a warrant.”

  Because it seemed called for, Holly nodded again. At this rate, she’d know the liquor purchasing habits of the entire town before the investigation was through.

  “You see, it was the father.”

  Holly rubbed her eyes, sitting up to try and stay alert. “What’s that?”

  “Her father. He was in the bar the other day having a tipple, and he asked to buy a bottle of what he was drinking. I remember because it’s unusual to get a request like that.”

  Holly looked over at the bar and frowned. “I didn’t know you sold bottles here.”

  “We don’t usually because the markup is so high. The only time we get requests is close to closing when someone wants to keep drinking, and the liquor store’s already shut for the night. But see—” Mrs. Hendrickson looked over her shoulder and leaned forward, speaking in a lower voice “—it wasn’t like that. The poor dead girl’s dad, he purchased a full bottle of spiri
ts, and it was only just gone tea-time. He could’ve wandered across the road and got the same thing from the liquor store at barely a third of the cost.”

  Mrs. Hendrickson stared over Holly’s shoulder at the liquor store, on the opposite side of the road. Her gaze was full of such intensity, that Holly turned and had a glance, too. Nothing out of the ordinary that she could spot.

  “So, anyway, I thought I’d better let you know,” Mrs. Hendrickson said, patting the back of Holly’s hand. “It’s just, we know that they pulled your boyfriend in for a chat, and I wanted to reassure you that the police are looking for other suspects, too. It’s not that they think Aidan did this terrible thing, just that they're being thorough.”

  As Holly let herself out the door into the crisp night air, she wondered if there were any other folks in town set to reassure her that the police were just doing their job.

  If so, they could wait until tomorrow to do so, Holly was finished for the day.

  “I just wanted to tell you before anyone else took the chance to do it,” Meggie said, sitting down at the table.

  Her opening sentence was full of such foreboding that Holly’s stomach sank right down into her boots.

  “Tell me what?” she asked politely, not wanting to know in the slightest.

  “Well—” Meggie looked over her shoulder as a pedestrian passed close by the bakery door, relaxing her shoulders as the man kept walking “—it’s just that I had some ladies in the salon this morning, chatting about the horrible business down at the park.”

  Holly was fast beginning to think that she’d never hear another word out of someone’s mouth that wasn’t connected to her and Aidan finding a dead body. She wished that she could go back in time so that when Aidan suggested they go for a walk, she could talk him into mini-golf instead.

  “I don’t think I want to know,” Holly said, her mouth pulling down at the corners. Despite getting into bed before eight last night, she’d tossed and turned for hours rather than having a decent night’s sleep.

  “It’s not something bad,” Meggie said, reaching out to squeeze Holly’s shoulder. “It could just be taken out of context far too easily, so I thought it would be better if you were prepared.”

  Back in Christchurch, Holly’s old workplace would be planning the end-of-year festivities. They always threw an enormous Christmas party for staff and clients and had to start planning well ahead of time if they wanted to book everything they wanted.

  Four years ago, Holly had been part of the planning committee. It wasn’t a natural fit, an introvert in an extravert’s role, but she wished now that she could go back to that time. Wouldn’t that be wonderful! Planning something for everyone to look forward to rather than sitting here, being the recipient of even more bad news.

  If only she hadn’t given up her job and sold her half of the house to her ex Simon, then Holly might never have heard of Jessica Chilvers!

  “She was pregnant.”

  Holly glanced at her friend across the table and sighed, shaking her head. “No, she wasn’t. I don’t know who started that rumor, but her boyfriend Clarence can put you right on that front.”

  “I don’t think he can,” Meggie said, her eyes shifting to the door as the shadow of a passer-by darkened it again. “From what the ladies were talking about under the driers, Clarence wasn’t the father.”

  Holly sat back in her chair, wriggling her shoulders to try to ease some of the tension out of them. She’d been wound as tight as a spring since Sunday. If the police didn’t come to a conclusion in the case soon, Holly thought she’d end up stooped over like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

  “Let me guess,” Holly said, putting her palms flat on the table to stop them bunching into fists, “top of the eligible father list is Aidan.”

  Meggie reached out to cover Holly’s hands with her own. “I’m sure that it’s just a bunch of nonsense, but, yeah. That’s what half the town are gossiping about today.”

  “Clarence was certain that his girlfriend didn’t want any children. He went into specific details of the lengths she went to defend against getting pregnant.” Holly paused and tilted her head to the side. “Far too specific details, if you ask me.”

  “I don’t know if she was or not, I’m just repeating what the family is saying.” Meggie shifted in her chair, taking her hands back off Holly’s to twist them in her lap instead.

  “Out with it,” Holly demanded, following the request up with a long sigh. “I really do prefer to get all my bad news at once.”

  “Well, the police saw Aidan arguing with Jessica in town the other day.”

  Holly nodded. “So, I’ve heard,”

  “One of the people who overheard their shouting match said it was all about her being pregnant.”

  Now, Meggie’s hands crushed together so hard that Holly saw the skin pulled white against her knuckles. It was her turn to reach over and hold her friend’s hand. “Just tell me. I don’t mind.”

  “The woman telling the story, said that in the end, Aidan had slapped Jessica across the face.”

  Holly jerked her hand away, her back pressing into the chair so hard that it was cutting grooves into her skin. “What?”

  “I’m sorry. It must be a complete load of rubbish, I’m sure. I’ve never seen Aidan be violent with anyone.”

  “Of course not. Aidan wouldn’t hit a woman. He wouldn’t slap anyone!”

  “It’s just…” Meggie trailed off, staring down into her lap.

  “Just what?”

  “Matthewson was called out to the scene.” When she glanced back up, Meggie’s face was twisted in such an expression of dismay that Holly’s heart twisted. “I don’t think the police would’ve attended if it was just a shouting match.”

  Holly pushed her chair back from the table, the legs squeaking in protest against the floor. “Give me a minute,” she said, holding her hand up when Meggie opened her mouth to say something more.

  Behind the counter wasn’t far enough away for Holly to feel safe. She ducked into the back room and retreated into the corner of the bench, squatting down so that her head was level with the countertop.

  “Don’t cry,” she whispered to herself in the sternest voice she could manage. “It’s not you who’s misbehaving, so don’t you dare cry.”

  Still, the tears threatened. Holly felt her nostrils beginning to sting and gripped the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb—an old trick from when she was at primary school.

  It had worked then, and it worked now. The tears receded, and when Holly felt sure they’d gone for good, she stood up and smoothed the front of her apron.

  Putting the same fake smile back in its place, Holly walked back out into the shop to finish having morning coffee with her friend.

  Chapter Nine

  When Nadine from the fish ‘n’ chip shop down the road came up to the door, Holly groaned. She knew before the woman opened her mouth that it was another tidbit about the case. Holly swore that the next dead body she found was just going unreported. Let someone else deal with all the hassle involved after the fact.

  “Hi, Nadine. We don’t see you in here often.”

  The woman patted her flat stomach and gave a grimace. “Uh, no. I’ve sworn off sugar a while back. It’s really done wonders for my health.”

  Holly was only grateful that no other customers were in the shop to hear that!

  “What can I get you?”

  “Oh, well. Mm.” Nadine stared along the row of cupcakes with increasing horror. “Gosh. They all do have a lot of frosting, don’t they?”

  “The more, the better, that’s our motto,” Holly said with a grin. She pulled a paper bag off the stack and flicked it open, holding the tongs ready in her other hand. “The raspberry cakes are on special this week. Crystal managed to nab the fruit seller before he could offload his gorgeous berries to the greengrocer or the supermarket. Imagine all those beautiful berries going to waste, not being smothered in rich frosting and baked
into a soft crumb.”

  As Nadine paled at the description, Holly’s smile widened a little. It was all a load of rubbish, of course. The first fruit of the season was something that might make her and Crystal jump for joy, but it wasn’t fit for sale as a foodstuff on its own. Twisted and malformed, the poor fruits that were first to herald the siren call of spring were never good for anything but tossing into a batter and corralling their wondrous taste.

  “I’ll have one of those, then,” Nadine said, a frown cutting so deeply into her forehead that it would inevitably leave behind the woman’s first true wrinkle.

  “Of course.” Holly tipped her a large wink. “If you promise not to tell my boss, I’ll toss in a second one for free, with extra frosting.”

  “No!” Nadine held up her hand, twisting her mouth in an expression of disgust. “I mean—” she gave a small laugh “—I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble. Just a small one will do me fine.”

  “Tell you what,” Holly continued, having so much fun mining this line of humor that she wasn’t prepared to let it go just yet. “I can put it on a plate and serve it up for you at the table. I was just about to have a coffee so I’ll make you one, on the house and we can eat some cupcakes together.”

  At that, Nadine’s eyes widened, and her mouth fumbled for an excuse. Luckily for her, Crystal chose that moment to pop her head through the connecting door. “We’re out of coffee,” she said, shooting a scolding glance at her sister. “Sorry about that. You’ll have to take that cupcake to go.”

  Hm. Sisters. It wasn’t the first time Crystal had ruined Holly’s fun, but it did signal that she’d gone too far. She placed a small raspberry cupcake in the bag, knowing full well it was probably going to end up in the bin.

  “I had something to tell you too,” Nadine said as she handed across her debit card in payment. “It’s about the police investigation.”

  The woman looked over her shoulder, and Holly noted for future reference that the townspeople of Hanmer Springs were very bad at being furtive. It spoke to their inherent goodness, she supposed, though the glances and whispers were starting to wear on Holly’s nerves.