by Agatha Frost
Julia sighed and closed the pad. Johnny had been doing so well, but she felt like he had just put his foot right in it, and from the look on Malcolm’s face, he had just given away his true intentions.
“You’re not writing an exposé!” he barked, suddenly standing up. “You’re just here to use me for information. Get out of my house!”
Johnny did not object. He scooped up the tape recorder and shoved it back into his bag along with the reams and reams of notes Julia had taken. They hurried to the front door before Malcom threw them out. When the door slammed behind them, Julia pinched between her brows, wondering how things could have turned so quickly.
“That could have gone better,” Julia said as they set off back towards the car.
“What do you mean?” Johnny replied with a laugh. “We got exactly what we came for. You heard the man. He thinks Emily did it and he’s just given us her motive.”
“You led him,” Julia said with a sigh. “You practically put the words in his mouth, and he just agreed to them.”
“It’s as good as!”
“It’s unreliable,” Julia snapped. “You should have just let him keep talking.”
“Why does it matter?” Johnny asked, the laughter in his voice making it clear he did not understand what Julia was trying to say. “We finally have some information about how the club works.”
“What if it’s not the right information?” Julia replied as she ducked into the car. “If you had let him continue telling us his story in his own words, he could have told us so much more.”
They sat in the car for a moment and stared at the cottage in silence, which was only broken when a car teetered down the dirt track, slowing down to a crawl as it passed them. Malcolm’s daughter, Chloe, stared at them through her rolled down window, a mixture of confusion and anger written across her face. Julia could not escape her guilt for using the woman’s father for information as she watched the car drive towards the cottage.
“We shouldn’t have come here,” Julia said. “Not like this.”
“Why?” Johnny asked with another laugh.
“Because he’s vulnerable,” Julia snapped, unable to contain the frustration in her voice. “He’s an elderly man who lives on the outskirts of our society, and you used the one thing against him that you knew would get him talking. It’s not right.”
“It’s journalism,” Johnny piped back as he twisted the key in the ignition. “You just don’t want to admit that your neighbour could be capable of murder.”
“And you don’t want to admit that you’ve already made up your mind. You’re going to use whatever story you want to fit that narrative,” Julia replied as she turned to look out of the window. “I thought you were a better journalist than that, Johnny.”
They drove back to the village in complete silence, the frosty atmosphere sucking the summer heat out of the car. When he pulled up outside of her café, she got out without saying a word. His wheels practically skidded on the tarmac as he sped away.
“Where have you been?” Jessie cried as she served a line of people to the door. “I need three lattes now. One soya, and the other two skinnies.”
Julia did not argue. She got to work making the drinks as she thought about how she had spent her afternoon. She had heard so much information about the Green Fingers, but she did not know what to focus on. Everything appeared to point to Emily, but unlike Johnny, Julia was not going to jump to that conclusion until she had the bigger picture in front of her.
7
Julia spent her Sunday morning working on her recipes for the different macarons. After a week of practice, she was happier with the results, but she still felt like they weren’t quite yet up to her usual standards. She glanced at the calendar next to her fridge as she pulled another batch out of the oven, the circled date of the prize reveal only six days away.
Panicking was not going to help her, so she slid the macaron shells onto a cooling rack and leaned against her kitchen sink before picking up her notepad to scribble down the flavour adjustments. It was impossible not to flick to the notes she had made about the murders.
It had been five days since Edgar had been pushed down the stairs, and even though she had not heard from Johnny since their disagreement over their interview of Malcolm, she was sure she would have heard about another Green Finger death if one had occurred. She hoped it meant whoever was pushing elderly residents down the stairs had had a change of heart, but Julia knew they were likely biding their time and selecting which of the three surviving founding members they were targeting next.
The thought unsettled Julia. She tossed the notepad onto the counter. She started to fill the delicate macaron shells with chocolate buttercream, and tried to ignore how completely useless she felt. If it was only a matter of time until another Green Finger was murdered, all Julia could do was wait.
As she placed the final macaron on the plate, Barker’s car pulled up in front of her cottage. She walked to the front door, glad to see Jessie behind the wheel. For now, the car was still in one piece.
“I think she’s ready to take her test again,” Barker announced as he climbed out of the passenger side of the car. “That was the smoothest lesson yet.”
“Every lesson is smooth,” Jessie snapped as she tossed the keys over the roof to Barker. “I’m an ace driver.”
“If you ignore almost running that man over last week,” Barker mumbled.
“He shouldn’t have been in the road.”
“It was a zebra crossing!”
“How was I supposed to notice?” Jessie replied with a roll of her eyes as she marched towards the cottage. “You told me to turn left at the end. I wasn’t staring at the road, I was looking for the turning.”
Jessie kicked off her black Doc Martens and jumped over the couch. She planted her feet on the coffee table, immediately burying her face in her phone. Julia knew she had lost her for the rest of the afternoon.
“Lunch at mine?” Barker suggested as he opened the boot of his car and pulled out a supermarket shopping bag. “I bought sushi and that expensive raspberry lemonade you like.”
Julia closed the front door behind her and dusted the flour off her floral print summer dress. Leaving his car parked behind her vintage aqua blue Ford Anglia, they set off down the winding lane arm in arm. As they passed Emily’s cottage, she bobbed up from behind her garden wall, sweat and dirt covering her red face. She pulled off her gardening gloves and rocked onto her heels.
“Nice day,” Emily said as she glanced up at the sky. “Although I’d rather it wasn’t so hot, but these flowers won’t plant themselves.”
Julia looked around Emily’s garden, noticing the subtle differences. Her vast collection of well-pruned rose bushes were beautiful on their own, but bright flowers had been planted at each of their bases. There was also a new elaborate birdbath in the centre of the garden, which appeared to be made from solid marble. Between running the club meetings and schmoozing the judges, Julia was surprised Emily had squeezed in time to transform her garden.
“You’ve done a great job,” Julia said, forcing a smile. “I’m sure the judges will love it.”
“That’s if they get here in time,” she said as she wiped the sweat from her lined forehead. “Somebody took a pair of shears to Amy’s garden and completely ruined it before she had a chance to have any photographs taken for the judging.”
“Evelyn had oil thrown over her gardenias too,” Julia remembered aloud. “Sounds like you have a saboteur in your ranks.”
“It’s not like Evelyn ever stood a chance of winning,” Emily said with a dismissive laugh. “Holistic gardening? It’s nonsense! But yes, it would seem that we have.”
“Any idea who it could be?” Julia asked, Barker’s arm tightening around hers as though to tell her to leave it. “Might be connected to the murders.”
“You’re not still insisting they were killed, are you?” Emily asked with an exhausted eye roll. “Honestly, Julia. I mean this wi
th the best intentions, but maybe you should just keep your nose out for once? I know you think you saw someone fleeing Edgar’s cottage, but it was an accident.”
“Perhaps,” Julia said through gritted teeth. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
Barker let out a relieved sigh as they continued down the winding lane under the baking sun. They stayed completely silent until they reached Barker’s cottage near the bottom of the lane.
“I’m starting to wonder if Johnny was on to something suspecting Emily,” Julia said as she unclipped Barker’s gate. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
It appeared that Barker was holding his tongue, but the look on his face told Julia everything she needed to know. He suspected Emily too, but she knew he did not want to give her permission to get any more involved than she was. Deciding to leave it, she pulled her house keys from her pocket and selected the key Barker had given her to his cottage. Barker reached around her and opened the unlocked door.
“I finally got a cleaner,” he said as he pushed the door open. “She must still be here.”
Powerful disinfectant tickled Julia’s nostrils as she walked into the distinctly cleaner sitting room. All of Barker’s ultra-modern furniture sparkled brilliantly, the usual pizza boxes and days old cups of coffee completely gone.
“Mercy, it’s just me,” Barker called out as he tossed his denim jacket over the back of his white leather couch. “I thought you’d be done by now.”
Julia followed him into the kitchen. The chemical fumes hit her instantly. Covering her mouth, she squinted through a cloud of steam. It cleared to reveal a woman sitting on the floor, a white mask over her mouth, goggles across her eyes, and headphones clamped over her ears. She stopped spraying the steam cleaner into the oven before ripping off her headphones, clearly startled by their arrival. When she pulled off the mask, Julia’s heart skipped a beat. She was the same woman she had seen on Mulberry Lane, and later at the cemetery with the man in the wheelchair.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said with a small shaky laugh as she clicked off the old-fashioned cassette player attached to her hip. “UB40. They were always my mum’s favourite.”
She stood up and pulled the mask over her face. She was younger than Julia had first assumed from a distance. Just like her father, she had a kind and open face with dazzling pale green eyes, which burned beautifully against her deep skin. Julia would have guessed the woman was in her late-twenties.
“Was your mother Yolanda?” Julia asked carefully as Barker pushed open the kitchen window to let the fumes out.
“She was,” Mercy said with a curt nod. “Did you know her?”
“I didn’t,” Julia admitted. “I run the café in the village, but I never saw her in there.”
“She wasn’t one for sweet things,” Mercy said with an apologetic smile. “Dad always said she had a mouth full of savoury teeth.”
Mercy looked down at the cassette player attached to her belt, sadness washing over her. Julia wondered what memory she had just stumbled across.
“Do you want a cup of tea, Mercy?” Barker asked over his shoulder as he filled the kettle. “We were just about to eat lunch.”
“I won’t intrude.” She peered into the oven before straightening up. “If you don’t need to cook tonight, I can finish this tomorrow.”
“He won’t be,” Julia answered for him. “He rarely uses the thing.”
Both of the women laughed, sharing a knowing look that told Julia Mercy’s father wasn’t much of a cook either.
As the kettle boiled, Mercy gathered up her cleaning materials, before heading for the door. Julia raced after her, her mind whirring with all of the questions she suddenly wanted to ask the woman now she knew for certain that she was the daughter Johnny had told her about.
“Let me get that,” Julia offered as she hurried around Mercy to open the door. “Need some help taking this stuff out to your car?”
“I think I’ve got it,” Mercy said, almost dropping the steam cleaner on her foot before catching it.
Julia pried the machine out of her hands and held open the front door. Mercy smiled her gratitude before they set off down the garden path towards her small Mini Cooper, which had a logo for Peridale Cleaning Company on the side.
“Was your mother a Green Finger?” Julia asked casually, not wanting to let Mercy know how much information she had gathered. “I think I saw her at the village hall a couple of times.”
“She founded the group,” Mercy said, her voice catching as she pulled her car keys from her pocket. “Not that they thanked her for it in the end. You’d never even know what my mother did for them now Emily is in charge.”
Julia picked up on the venom in the woman’s voice. She began to wonder if any members of the club actually liked Emily. She considered Amy for a second, but the poor woman seemed more scared of her than anything.
“I heard she’s been quite a force since taking over,” Julia said as she placed the steam cleaner into the boot of the small car. “I heard that Malcolm was the natural fit to take over.”
“He should have taken over, but he’s not a forceful man, despite what people think.” Mercy carefully placed her cleaning products next to the steam cleaner. “Some cold-hearted journalists went to his cottage to pry information out of him. Poor guy barely leaves his house, and he’s still getting harassed in his own home.”
Julia gulped down her guilt, hoping it did not register on her face. Mercy shut the boot, so Julia stepped back onto the pavement.
“Thanks for your help,” Mercy said. “I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, I suppose you will,” Julia said, glancing over her shoulder at Barker’s cottage. “Can I ask you one more thing?”
Mercy closed her fist around her keys before nodding. Julia looked up the lane to Emily’s cottage, where her head was bobbing up and down amongst the roses. She was probably still on her hands and knees furiously stuffing as many flowers into the soil as her poor garden could handle.
“You mentioned that people wouldn’t know what your mother had done for the group now that Emily was in charge.” Julia paused and folded her arms against her chest. “What do you really think of Emily? She’s my neighbour, but I’ve seen a different side of her recently.”
“Honestly?” Mercy asked, her defined brows arching a little. “She’s a snake. I never got too involved with my mum’s club. Gardening wasn’t my thing, but I still heard things. Mum hated Emily. She said she took the club too seriously and had itchy feet to lead. It was supposed to be a fun project for retired people. Emily always took it too far. Mum said that when she was applying to the magazine to get featured, all Emily talked about was the prize. I don’t even think she’s bothered about the money, she just wants the title of having the best garden in Peridale.”
Julia stepped back into Barker’s garden. She thanked Mercy for talking to her and watched as she drove carefully down the lane and into the village.
“She’s a nice girl,” Barker said as he put the plates of Sushi on the dining room table. “Good cleaner too. I thought I was quite tidy until she came in.”
“You were never tidy, Barker,” Julia said as she took a seat at the table. “I feel for her. She’s lost her mother, and now Emily is parading around with that badge on acting like she’s always been in charge.”
“It’s just a silly little club.” Barker filled her glass with raspberry lemonade. “You can’t keep thinking about it. We’re working on it. We’ve got some leads.”
“I suppose you’re not going to tell me?” Julia asked, leaning into Barker’s side. “Because if you do, it won’t leave my lips.”
“You’re right,” Barker said with a wink. “I’m not going to tell you, especially since you’re such good friends with one of our suspects.”
“If you’re talking about Johnny, I don’t think he’ll be talking to me anytime soon. We spoke to Malcolm about the club. Johnny told him he was writing
an exposé. The poor guy believed him. I thought it was a clever tactic until Johnny started putting words into Malcolm’s mouth.”
“I heard about that.” Barker sucked the air through his teeth. “I hoped Malcolm had been wrong about ‘the café lady’.”
“I feel awful,” Julia said. “I knew he was a recluse, but I didn’t think Johnny would manipulate him like that.”
“You’re not an angel either, Julia,” Barker replied with a soft smile. “Maybe you just don’t like seeing yourself in other people.”
Julia opened her mouth to object, but she immediately stopped herself. How could she protest when she knew Barker was right? She suddenly felt like a fool for getting on her high horse when she had carried out similar techniques when she had been trying to discover information.
“I think I owe Johnny an apology,” Julia whispered, almost to herself as she stared off into the corner of the room. “Is that a typewriter?”
Julia stared at a clunky typewriter on top of a mahogany desk, neither of which she had ever seen before. Considering how much they stuck out amongst the white wood and glass, she was surprised she had not spotted them right away.
“I bought them from your dad’s barn,” Barker said quickly, his cheeks blushing.
“A typewriter?” she asked again, arching a brow. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Tap dance.” Barker strained a laugh as he crammed a piece of sushi into his mouth. “What else am I going to do with it? Write, of course.”
“Write what?”
“Nothing,” he replied, his cheeks burning even more. “Try the sushi. It’s really tasty.”
Julia picked up the small chopsticks and a piece of the sushi with it. She dunked it in the dish of soy sauce, lifting it to her mouth, but she stopped before it reached her lips.
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with what I saw in your briefcase?” Julia asked carefully as she watched Barker cram more sushi into his mouth.
“I told you that was nothing too,” Barker mumbled through the rice and seaweed.
