by Agatha Frost
“Sounds like my Mabel,” Dot said, lifting her tea up to the sky while her other hand touched her brooch. “May that difficult, stubborn, controlling best friend of mine finally rest in peace. She always said she’d go before me, and as usual, she was right.”
“You’ll never die, Dot,” Jessie said as she gathered empty plates from the table next to them. “You’ll outlive us all.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Alfie said, lifting up his coffee cup. “I intend to have you as my housemate for the foreseeable future.”
“You’re my lodger,” Dot reminded him with an extended finger. “Don’t get that mixed up.”
“But we have a good time, don’t we?” Alfie replied with a grin. “Admit it. You like having me around.”
“I’d like it if you didn’t leave your socks on the bathroom floor,” Dot said with pursed lips. “But yes, it’s quite fun having someone youthful around the place again. Just don’t bring any more murderous girlfriends home again. She could have snuffed me out in my sleep!”
“I knew I didn’t like her,” Jessie said, her eyes narrowing on Alfie. “She gave me bad vibes. She didn’t have honest eyes. Speaking of which, I wanted to make an announcement. So, listen up.”
Jessie walked in front of the counter and cleared her throat. Everyone shifted in their seats and stared expectantly at her. Alfie looked at Julia for an explanation, but all Julia could offer was a shrug.
“Considering recent events, I wanted to make a confession,” Jessie said, her head held high. “I didn’t bake those blueberry muffins you all love.” Jessie sighed as though she had just got a weight off her chest. “On the day of Barker’s book launch, Julia’s oven broke, so, being the genius that I am, I bought those muffins from the shop. We didn’t expect you to love them, but when you did, I convinced Julia to go along with it. There. I said it. Now it can’t bite me in the backside in ten years.”
There was a moment of silence as Jessie looked out at the crowd. Julia wondered if she expected a round of applause or to have tomatoes thrown at her for being so honest; neither happened.
“I knew they tasted artificial,” Shilpa announced, stiffening her spine. “I didn’t like them that much anyway.”
“Me neither,” Amy Clark added. “Too moist.”
“I foresaw as much,” Evelyn said, tapping in the middle of her forehead. “You can’t get anything past my third eye.”
Jessie sighed and turned on her heels, almost seeming disappointed that people did not put up a fight for her sham muffins. She burst through the beads into the kitchen where she proceeded to wash up noisily.
When the funeral party moved on, leaving behind only Dot and Alfie, Barker turned up with a large bunch of flowers.
“Now that is an apology bouquet,” Dot announced. “I told you he could do better, Julia.”
“He has nothing to apologise for,” Julia said, smiling at the gorgeous array of flowers. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’m afraid they’re not from me,” Barker said as he put them on the counter. “They turned up at the cottage, so I thought I’d bring them down.”
Barker turned them around, revealing a white envelope. ‘Julia’ was printed on the front above a logo for an online florist. She slipped out the card and turned it over to read three simple words: ‘Thank you. Izzy’.
“Who are they from?” Dot asked.
“A friend,” Julia said. “And that’s all you need to know.”
She slipped the card back into the envelope, which she then put in her pocket. Inhaling the sweet, floral scent of the petals, she hoped Izzy was with her family where it mattered.
“Can I borrow you for a minute?” Barker asked quietly over the flowers, nodding into the kitchen. “I want to tell you something.”
He followed her through the beads and into the kitchen. Jessie was still noisily washing up, so they walked out into the yard where the sun was beating down.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Barker asked, grabbing one of Julia’s hands in his.
“The bad news,” Julia said with a nod. “I want to end with the good.”
Barker reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope, which he passed to Julia. She pulled out a sheet of A4 paper, which was filled with Barker’s typewritten letters.
“‘Please accept my letter of resignation’,” Julia read aloud. “You’re quitting the police?”
“Retiring, actually,” Barker said with a sheepish smile. “But that’s because of the good news. My publisher sent me an email this morning. The bestseller list was published last night, and guess who currently has the fifth bestselling fiction book in the whole country?”
“Fifth?”
“As in, only four other books sold more copies than The Girl in the Basement this week, and I had the highest charting debut novel.” Barker was trying to keep a straight face, but Julia could tell he was desperate to beam. “The guys at the publishing company are really excited about this, and they’re putting their money where their mouth is. They’ve tripled my advance for the sequel, which is almost as much as my yearly salary from being a detective inspector.”
“But you worked so hard to get this far,” Julia said as she looked down at the letter. “Are you sure you want to do this? Why don’t you sleep on it?”
“I’ve been sleeping on it since the day they offered me a three-book deal,” Barker said, the excitement making his teeth grit. “I know it sounds like I’m rushing into this, but I’ve thought of nothing else for months. I have loved being a detective, but this was always my dream, Julia. Not many people get to say they’ve achieved their childhood dreams, and if Mabel Crump has taught me anything, it’s that you should chase what you want, and don’t look back. I can’t split my time between living two lives because I won’t give either the attention it deserves. Peridale deserves a focussed detective, and I need to pass on that torch.”
Julia read the letter again, but everything she needed to know was written across Barker’s face. She folded it up and passed it back.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll support you,” Julia said. “Fifth? Really?”
“Fifth!” Barker said, his grin breaking free. “They want to get the sequel out as soon as possible, which means I need to bury myself in my typewriter to prove it wasn’t a fluke, and I’m not entirely sure that it wasn’t, but if I don’t try, I’ll regret it when it’s too late.”
“Are you still going with The Woman in the Ceiling?” Julia asked.
“I’ve decided against that one,” Barker said with a measured look. “For now, at least. Izzy was pushing that idea, but you were right about it being exploitative considering what that family went through. I was too swept up to see it. I’ll go back to the drawing board, and if I can’t think of anything, I’m sure you’ll find yourself in the middle of another investigation soon enough.”
“Little old me?” Julia replied as she looped her fingers through his. “I’m just a simple café owner trying to make an honest living.”
“If you say so,” Barker said before kissing her. “If you weren’t such a good baker, I’d suggest you apply for my job.”
“When are you handing in your notice?”
“Now,” Barker said before exhaling. “I wanted to run it by you first.”
“What if I told you not to?”
“Then I would have trusted your judgement,” Barker said as they walked back into the kitchen. “But I knew you wouldn’t. You only care about what’s best for people, and this is best for me.”
“Then I’ll come with you,” Julia said, squeezing his hand. “For moral support.”
Leaving the café behind, they walked hand in hand towards the police station as the bright afternoon sun shone down on them. Julia would have been lying if she said the change did not scare her, but she knew it would take more than a career change, or a body falling through the ceiling, or an eager publicist to rock what they had built with each other. She looked down at the
glittering pearl in her engagement ring, knowing the love they shared was the only glue they needed.
The 13th Peridale Cafe book, Ice Cream and Incidents, is coming soon!
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The 13th Peridale Cafe book, Ice Cream and Incidents, is coming soon!
Dead in the Water - Chapter 1
Book 1 in the Scarlet Cove series co-written with Evelyn Amber - OUT NOW
“That’s the last of it!” The removal man gestured towards his now empty white van, wiping the sweat from his red forehead.
“I can handle the rest,” Liz said, pulling the agreed fee from her small black purse. “Thank you.”
The plump man climbed back into his van and started the engine. He gave Liz a small nod before setting off and rounding the corner out of view.
Sensing the sweat running down her face, she pulled a small compact from her bag. Her pale eyes stared back at her, looking all the greener thanks to her bright red cheeks. She attempted to smooth down the flyaway hairs that had snuck out of her low-hanging bushy ponytail. Deciding it was a lost cause, she tossed her mirror back into her bag.
Shielding her eyes from the bright morning sun, she looked up at the small flat above a pale green shop, which was to become her new home. She turned and took in her surroundings as the people of Scarlet Cove went about their daily routines. Her flat was in the middle of a small row of businesses facing in towards a stone town square, which appeared to be playing host to a market. There was a bustling pub to her left, with two more rows of businesses boxing them in on either side. Winding streets leaked away from the square, some edging up the steep hill of oddly positioned multi-coloured buildings poking out of the vibrant trees, and some falling down towards the sea. It looked exactly like the beautiful pictures she had fallen in love with.
Liz slid her phone out of her jean’s pocket, itching to look at those stunning pictures again, but a small man with a bulbous nose wobbled towards her with a welcoming smile and an outstretched hand.
“You must be Elizabeth!” the elderly man remarked with a chuckle as he beamed up at her. “Bob Slinger is the name. I’m your new landlord.”
Bob rocked back and forth, his wide smile growing as though this was the most exciting moment of his life. With his round belly and crimson nose, he looked like a beardless Santa Claus, but his stature reminded Liz more of an elf.
“People call me Liz.” She pushed her phone back into her pocket to accept the man’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
To Liz’s surprise, the little man had more than a handshake in mind. He yanked her down into a tight hug, his palm heartily slapping her back. Liz was taller than most women, but her new landlord made her feel like a giant.
“Welcome to Scarlet Cove!” he cried in her ear as he finally pulled away. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your keys. This one is for the shop, and this one is for your flat. I hope you like our little town.”
Bob thrust the two keys into her fist, one brass and one silver. He grinned up at her for what felt like a lifetime before finally letting go and turning to walk away. He only managed two steps before spinning on his heels, his finger in the air.
“Is this all of your stuff?” Bob asked as he cast an eye at the small pile of boxes, one of which was almost taller than him. “You certainly travel light.”
“I wanted a real fresh start.” She exhaled and looked over the things she had selected to bring with her on her new adventure. “I have all new furniture arriving soon
“Flat pack?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Then I don’t envy how you’re going to spend your evening!” Bob winked and leaned in. “I have a rather mighty power drill if you’d like to borrow it? Might make the job easier.”
“That would be great,” Liz said, her mind wandering to the cheap, rather pathetic screwdrivers buried in one of the boxes. “Only if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all!” he exclaimed before letting out a jovial chuckle. “You’ll find folk are more than helpful ‘round here. Here’s my card. If you need anything just give me a call. Day or night, I don’t mind!”
Liz accepted the card as she nodded her thanks. The old man teetered down the street and out of sight. She looked down at the plain white card, which simply read ‘Bob Slinger – Landlord,’ above his phone number. She was not certain, but it looked like it had been created using an old, inky typewriter.
“What a peculiar man,” she muttered to herself as she unlocked the shop door. “Quite strange indeed.”
Her shoes clicked against the dusty hardwood flooring as she walked into the empty store. She crossed her arms and looked around the small space, a smile spreading across her face. It would take a lot of work, but she could not wait until she opened it as her very own arts and crafts store.
Art had been a passion of hers for as long as she could remember. Even though she had not picked up a paintbrush during most of her fifteen years in the police force, she had not been able to put one down in the past two years.
She had settled on Scarlet Cove to start her new life after seeing a picture of the beautiful English South Coast seaside town on the front of a book in a charity shop. Just from her landlord’s hug, she knew small town life would be very different to the one she had left behind in the city. She locked the shop door, wondering how long it would take to adjust to the change.
An hour later, she carried one of the last boxes to the flat above the shop, placing it carefully in the middle of the empty sitting room. She looked around her flat, her heart fluttering with excitement. It was simple, with cream walls and basic fittings, and it lacked the glitz of her city apartment, but it already felt like home. Somehow, it felt like it was where she had always meant to end up, even if she had not expected it to happen when she was forty-two.
Liz turned on her heels to run back downstairs, stopping when she remembered what was inside the box she had just brought up. Bending down, she ripped back the brown tape and carefully plucked out the red leather diary. She stroked the spine, knowing every word contained within its handwritten pages by heart. She flicked to the first page.
‘For Liz. So you don’t forget any more important dates. Love, Lewis.’
She chuckled sadly, her mind casting back to her thirty-seventh birthday. She had found it strange to receive a diary as a gift, however, the first time she had opened it, she had realised it had already been filled. She flicked through, remembering exactly what lay between its pages. The twenty-second of October had been marked as the anniversary of her first date with Lewis. Every holiday, special occasion, party, and memory had been marked down.
Pulling herself back to the present time, she closed the book and held it tightly to her chest. It had been two years since she had lost her husband, but it was still difficult to fight back the tears. She allowed one to slip down her cheek before she pulled herself together. Lewis had made her promise she would move on with her life and find happiness again.
She placed the book back in the box and turned back to the front door. She did not need a book full of dates to remember Lewis; he was always with her, even in Scarle
t Cove.
Leaving the memories behind, she walked into the bright Saturday afternoon, breathing in the fresh seaside air as she pushed the keys into her pocket. The scent of salt and vinegar from the fish and chip shop down the road was thick in the air. Her stomach grumbled, but she could not think about food yet. Seagulls squawked overhead, sounding as hungry as she felt.
Liz picked up the final box, her back creaking. She paused and took in a deep breath. It had been a long day, but she could not believe how glad she was to finally be away from her life in Manchester. With her mind firmly on her future, she turned with the heavy box, hitting a short woman in the process. The collision sent the woman and the box tumbling to the ground. The contents of Liz’s bathroom exploded through the cardboard and scattered across the pavement.
“I’m so sorry!” Liz apologised as she helped the woman to her feet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“That’s ok,” the woman said as she swept dirt and gravel from her sixties-style dress. “I’m usually the one not looking where I’m going. They say I was born with two left feet.” The woman chuckled, before making Liz jump with a snap of her fingers. “You must be our new resident! I’m Nancy Turtle.”
“Turtle?” Liz asked, arching a brow as she shook Nancy’s hand. “Unusual name.”
“We’re an old family,” Nancy exclaimed proudly, her red-tinted lips beaming from ear to ear. “There’s been a Turtle in Scarlet Cove for as long as anyone can remember.”
“I’m Elizabeth,” she replied. “Elizabeth Jones. Not as exciting, but everyone calls me Liz.”
Nancy heartily shook Liz’s hand again. She would have guessed the woman with the funny name was in her early thirties. She had impossibly thick brown hair with a full fringe that seemed a little too short for her pretty, round face. Thick glasses framed her hazel eyes, magnifying them to double their original size. She was short and curvy, which made Liz feel like a lanky basketball player in comparison.
