Pancakes and Corpses: A Cozy Murder Mystery (Peridale Cafe Mystery Book 1)

by Agatha Frost

  Julia drove past the village green and her heart sank. A crime scene tent had been erected in the middle of the green, and crime scene tape had been wrapped around it. Men in white body suits came and went as the early risers of the village stood around the edges of the grass, whispering amongst themselves. She spotted her Gran as one of those villagers, but she was so deep in her gossiping that she didn’t notice Julia’s unique car driving by.

  Even though she hated to admit it, Detective Inspector Brown was right. Now that the murderer was behind bars, she could get back to focusing on her café. The double homicide would give Peridale plenty to talk about for months to come, but she knew the village would move on and get back to normal eventually.

  Julia pulled up at the opening of the small alley between her café and the post office where she always parked her car, but despite the ‘STRICTLY NO PARKING’ sign on the side of her café, there was already a car there. Sighing, Julia killed the engine and jumped out, hoping the driver was still inside. As she walked to the car, she quickly recognised it as William Smith’s sports car.

  Turning to look at the white tent, she wondered if William had parked his car here before walking to his death. The thought turned her stomach. The police hadn’t seemed to notice the victim’s car parked in the shadow of her café. She considered calling the station right away, but she couldn’t resist a peek of her own through the tinted windows.

  Careful not to touch anything, Julia cupped her hands as close to the window as she could, and peered inside. It was a typical man’s car, covered in old food wrappers from motorway service stations, and old newspapers. She spotted that week’s copy of The Peridale Post on the floor of the passenger seat, underneath a sausage roll wrapper. In the cup holder, there were two white coffee cups from a chain coffee shop, which naturally made Julia’s hairs stand on end. She didn’t know how anybody could drink such over-processed, over-sweetened nonsense. Red lipstick on the rim of one of the cups caught Julia’s attention. She thought she recognised the shade as belonging to somebody in particular, but she wasn’t sure if she was over thinking things.

  Using her black cardigan to stop the transference of her fingerprints, she tested the handle, and to her surprise, the car door was unlocked. It seemed that when William parked, he didn’t think he would be away from his car for very long. It upset Julia that he hadn’t known he was walking to his death. She hadn’t known much about the man, nor had she really liked him, but after seeing him cry about his emotionally unavailable mother, she couldn’t help but feel saddened that he had succumbed to the same fate.

  Julia ducked into the car to get a closer look at the cup. Without the tint of the windows, she unmistakably knew she had seen that particular orangey shade of red lipstick before, because only one woman had features so striking to pull it off. She also picked up on the distinct whiff of a badly made vanilla latte. Using her cardigan again, Julia ripped off the cardboard lipstick print and pocketed it, vowing to hand it over to the police after she had gone to talk to the owner of the fresh print.

  After leaving a hastily written ‘back in twenty minutes’ sign in the café window, she jumped back in her car and drove across the village to the art gallery, and when she saw it was closed, she redirected to Rachel Carter’s cottage.

  Rachel Carter’s cottage was similar to Julia’s, in that it was on its own winding lane leading out of the village. The cottage was traditional on the outside, with its low roof, small windows, and old stone, but the inside showed that Rachel had inherited her mother’s tastes for minimal, clean living.

  “Julia,” Rachel exclaimed when she opened the door. “I was about to call you.”

  “You were?” Julia said as she stepped into Rachel’s cottage. “I can’t stay long, I haven’t opened the café yet. I just wanted to ask you a question.”

  “So you’re not here about Roxy?” Rachel asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “Roxy?”

  “She turned up this morning,” Rachel said. “She’s in my guest bedroom sleeping. She was in quite a state.”

  Julia followed Rachel down the hallway to the guest bedroom, where Roxy was fast asleep on top of the bed. Her skin was pale and she looked frailer than Julia had ever seen her look before. Julia’s initial feelings of relief were quickly replaced with more sinister ones. She had so many questions she wanted to ask Roxy, but she couldn’t justify waking her up. She didn’t know where she had been since Saturday, but it didn’t look like she had been relaxing in a spa.

  “I suppose you’ve heard about William?” Julia asked, already pulling the lipstick printed piece of cardboard out of her pocket.

  “Mother called at the crack of dawn,” Rachel said as she led Julia through to the sitting room. “Quite sad.”

  Despite Rachel’s declaration of sadness, she didn’t appear at all to be sad. Julia would have gone as far as to say that Rachel seemed rather indifferent to the news. She wondered if she had jumped to conclusions about the lipstick. Rachel was wearing the same orange tinted red she had worn to church on Sunday, but Julia knew it wasn’t impossible that somebody else in the village would own the same shade, or even somebody outside the village.

  “Your lipstick is nice,” Julia said.

  “Thank you,” Rachel said with a smile. “Roxy bought it for my birthday. I wasn’t sure if it would suit me, but people seem to like it. It’s quite unique.”

  “Did you know much about William?” Julia asked, quickly redirecting the conversation.

  “No more than the usual,” Rachel said suspiciously, her eyes tightening. “The flash car, job in the city. Did you come here to ask me about William Smith? If so, it’s a wasted journey. What’s that you’ve got in your hand?”

  Julia looked down at the lipstick print and suddenly wondered if she had taken herself on a fool’s errand. Her gut had told her to ask Rachel about it, so she decided that’s just what she was going to do. When her gut told her a cake recipe needed a touch more butter, or a dash of cinnamon, it was rarely wrong.

  “I found this in William’s car,” Julia said, handing the piece of cardboard over. “It is parked in the alley next to my café and the door was open. I recognised it as the shade you wear. Like you said, it’s unique.”

  Rachel accepted the piece of cardboard, her expression barely flickering. She held it up to the light for a moment, before tossing it onto the clutter-free glass coffee table, crossing one leg over the other and resting her hands on her knee.

  “It’s mine,” Rachel said sternly.

  Julia was taken aback by the quick admittance.

  “Do you know how it came to be in William’s car?”

  “Of course I know,” Rachel said with a small laugh. “Because I was in his car. Listen, Julia, I might as well be honest with you, not that it’s any of your business. William and I have been seeing each other romantically. It was never serious and it was never going to be. He came into the gallery a couple of months ago to buy a painting, and we went out for coffee after. When he came back to the village, we met up. Ever since his mother’s death, his moods have been frantic, and it was becoming exhausting, so I asked him to meet me late last night. He picked me up after the gallery closed and he drove me to one of those awful motorway service stations. Nobody can make vanilla lattes like you can. I broke it off and then he dropped me off, and that was the last I heard from him.”

  “Have you told any of this to the police?” Julia asked, picking up the torn piece of cardboard. “You were one of the last people to see him alive.”

  “It’s not important,” Rachel said. “I don’t know why he hung around in the village. Our relationship was nothing more than a fling. It meant nothing to either of us. He wasn’t even bothered when I told him we should call it off. In fact, he agreed it was probably for the best.”

  Julia thought back to the blubbering mess she had comforted in her café and wondered if that same man would have been okay with any slight rejection. She wasn’t so sure.

&nbs
p; Before she could ask more questions, Roxy skulked into the sitting room, rubbing her red raw eyes. When she spotted Julia, she immediately burst into tears and wrapped her arms around her neck.

  “I’ve been so worried about you,” Julia whispered into Roxy’s ear. “Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been so stupid, Julia,” Roxy said, sobbing against her shoulder. “So stupid.”

  When Roxy calmed down, they sat next to each other on the sofa. Once again, Julia was wondering if her friend could be capable of murder, and she was surprised when she couldn’t come to a definitive answer.

  “Where have you been?” Julia repeated. “Why did you leave the village after Gertrude’s murder?”

  “Oh, Julia,” Roxy sobbed into a tissue. “I had no idea Gertrude had been murdered. I ran away because of – because of -,”

  Roxy’s voice trailed off and she continued to heavily sob.

  “I know about the blackmail,” Julia said. “I know about Violet too. The truth about you and Violet. I’ve met her and she told me everything.”

  “She did?” Roxy peaked up through the soaked, almost shredded tissue, glancing awkwardly to Rachel. “That’s the reason I left. I couldn’t stand the thought of ruining her career as well as my own. That morning before I came to the café, Gertrude came to my home, demanding more money than ever. She wanted one thousand pounds as a final payment, and she would leave me alone. I didn’t have that kind of money! I teach six-year-old children for a living. She’d emptied my savings and I was desperate. I hadn’t been sleeping and I felt completely lost. I thought about asking my mother for the money, but I knew that would mean telling her everything, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that. When I left the café, I went home and packed my things. I jumped on a train and I went to stay with an old friend from university, Beth. I’ve been sleeping on her sofa, trying to figure out my next move. I knew I needed to get as far away from Peridale as I could, that way Gertrude couldn’t find me. I thought maybe she would forget about the final payment if I weren’t around to remind her. I thought if I left Peridale, Violet would be safe. She would keep her job, and everything would work out okay for her. It’s silly really. I wasn’t thinking. I had barely slept a wink for weeks.”

  “Why did you come back today?” Julia asked, a hard lump rising in her throat.

  Roxy wiped away the last of her tears and she sat up straight. She brushed her considerably faded red hair out of her face and turned to look Julia dead in the eyes. Julia wondered if she was looking into the eyes of a killer.

  “Beth was on the computer, reading the news. She saw an appeal from the police asking for information about a murder in Peridale. She called me over and I read all about Gertrude, and how she had been stabbed, and that they were looking for me for questioning. I got on the first train back, and I came straight here. I was going to go straight to the police, to explain that I wasn’t even in the village when Gertrude died, but I crashed out.”

  “So you don’t know about William Smith?” Julia asked softly. “Gertrude’s son?”

  Roxy frowned, her eyes narrowing to slits. She opened and closed her mouth, but she didn’t make a sound.

  “He’s been murdered, Roxy,” Rachel said. “Stabbed like his mother.”

  “What?” Roxy said, shaking her head. “No, no, no! I didn’t do it, Julia, I swear! I know what it looks like, but I didn’t do it!”

  “It’s okay,” Julia said. “They’ve arrested Amy Clark.”

  “Amy Clark? The church lady?” Roxy asked, looking just as confused. “Why would she do such a thing?”

  “Gertrude was blackmailing her too,” Julia said. “It’s a long story, but you don’t have to worry. Just stay here. Don’t leave Peridale again. Just stay here.”

  Julia stood up to leave, but Roxy grabbed her hand and dragged her back down to the sofa.

  “Don't leave me,” Roxy pleaded. “Please.”

  “I need to,” Julia said with a soft smile, prying Roxy’s fingers off of her hand. “I’m going to go speak with Amy.”

  Julia kissed Roxy on the cheek and headed towards the door. Rachel followed her, softly closing the door to the sitting room.

  “Are you going to tell Detective Inspector Brown about my relationship with William?” Rachel asked quietly as they hovered near the front door.

  “I think it’s important he knows, if only to establish a timeline before his death.”

  Rachel nodded, considering what Julia had said, before applying a small smile.

  “I understand,” Rachel said. “It’s better he hears it from me. If you’re driving to the station, can I ride with you?”

  “What about Roxy?”

  “She’ll be okay,” Rachel said, glancing back to the sitting room door. “She’ll probably just fall asleep again. By the way, your sister called last night about having her birthday party at the gallery tomorrow night.”

  And just like that, the conversation switched from murder to birthday parties. When Rachel started talking about balloon colours and bunting, Julia tuned out, and instead turned her thoughts to how she was going to convince Detective Inspector Brown to let her talk to a suspected murderer.

  Peridale police station was a tiny place. It usually dealt with petty crime and local squabbles between neighbours, not double homicide cases. From the moment Julia stepped inside and asked to speak to Detective Inspector Brown, she could tell the station’s resources were being stretched to capacity.

  While she waited for Barker to appear, Rachel told the man behind the desk that she knew about William, and he told her to take a seat. Instead of sitting next to Julia, Rachel sat on the opposite side of the station’s waiting room and busied herself with reading a magazine.

  “Julia, whatever it is, I don’t have time for it,” Barker huffed as he marched towards her.

  “I need to speak to Amy Clark,” Julia said. “It’s urgent.”

  As expected, Barker laughed at her, his head shaking heavily.

  “Impossible!” Barker cried. “She’s currently being interrogated about these murders. I’ve got my boss breathing down my neck to solve this double homicide. I thought I was moving to this village for an easier life, but this is more complicated than any case I’ve worked in my entire policing career.”

  “I don’t think Amy did it,” Julia whispered, standing up so that she was level with Barker. “If I can just speak to her, I think she can tell me something that will point us straight to the real murderer.”

  Barker stared down at her, as though trying to decide whether he should laugh or cry. Julia held her stance and darkened her stare, to let him know she was being deadly serious. Just when he was about to say something, an officer ran towards him and pushed a piece of paper into Barker’s hand.

  “Dammit!” He cried, screwing the paper up in his hands. “Her alibi checks out.”

  “Alibi?” Julia asked.

  “She said she was shopping at a supermarket outside the village. I didn’t believe her but the supermarket has confirmed that she was seen on the security cameras and was spotted by several members of staff at the time of the murder. Who travels out of town at five in the morning to go shopping?”

  “A woman who doesn’t want her fellow villagers to know she doesn’t shop locally because she prefers the choice and price of the chain supermarkets,” Julia said calmly. “Please Barker, all I need is five minutes with her.”

  Amy looked equally confused and relieved to see Julia when she walked into the investigation room. Barker sat on a chair in the corner and motioned for Julia to sit across from Amy, who was clutching a weak looking plastic cup of tea in her shaking hands.

  “I didn’t do it,” Amy whispered as she sipped her tea. “Oh, Julia, I didn’t do it.”

  “I know,” Julia said soothingly. “I believe you. I think you can help me figure out who did though.”

  “I don’t know anything!” Amy cried as she pulled her powder pink cardigan together. “I was just driving home
from CostMart when my headlights caught the poor man’s white shirt on the village green. The sun had only just started to rise, and I thought he was a drunk, so I got out and told him what for. When he didn’t move, I walked over and that’s when I saw the knife, and that it was William. Oh, Julia! It was awful! The poor man was still alive. I held him and I screamed out for help, and that’s when the officer found me. I know how it looks, but I swear to God, I didn’t kill that poor boy.”

  Julia wanted to tell Amy that her alibi had cleared, but Barker had made her swear not to. She wondered if he still suspected her and that she would confess with a little more pressure. Julia knew they could interrogate her for the next ten years and she would never confess.

  “I know Gertrude was blackmailing you about your past,” Julia said. “You weren’t the only one. She was also blackmailing Imogen and Roxy Carter.”

  “I knew about Imogen,” Amy said, a frown forming in her crinkled brow. “But why Roxy?”

  “That’s not important right now,” Julia said. “You have known Gertrude for a long time, haven’t you Amy?”

  Amy sighed and nodded.

  “Can you believe we used to be friends? When I – when I – oh, you know the truth about my past. When I was released from prison, I knew I wanted a fresh start away from anybody who knew me as Amelia Clarkson. I was born Amy Clark, but that was the name I went by when I -,”

  “Robbed banks?” Barker jumped in.

  Amy shot him daggers across the room before turning back to Julia.

  “Those were the days,” Amy said with a soft sigh. “I know it wasn’t right, but I haven’t felt as alive as I did when we were on a job. It’s almost as though it happened to another woman in another life, but those memories are what keep me warm at night. My mother said I got in with a bad crowd, but I was the leader of that crowd. I deserved every year in prison that I served, and I wouldn’t change a second of it. I found God when I was in prison. I used to play the organ at the Sunday service. When I moved to Peridale, that’s what me and Gertrude bonded over. We were thick as thieves for the longest time, until I found out she was blocking me from ever playing the organ at service. It was Father Wentworth back then, and Gertrude had him wrapped around her little finger. I always thought she had an eye for him, but she would never be unfaithful to her Frank, even if he didn’t pay her the same courtesy. She wouldn’t let me play the organ just once. Not one time. She could never share. We went from being friends to enemies and that’s how it stayed. When she died, all I could think was ‘it’s my time to shine’. I asked God to forgive me for even thinking that, but I knew Gertrude had gotten what was coming to her.”