by Sherri Bryan
Hamburgers, Homicide and a Honeymoon
The Charlotte Denver Cozy Mystery Series
Book 5
Sherri Bryan
Contents
Cast of Characters
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Other Books by Sherri Bryan
A Selection of Recipes from Hamburgers, Homicide and a Honeymoon
Note from Sherri
About Sherri Bryan
Acknowledgements
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design – Coverkicks.com
Cast of Characters
Charlotte Costello (née Denver) - Owner of Charlotte’s Plaice café on the marina in St. Eves. Our heroine.
Nathan Costello - Chief Inspector of the St. Eves police department. Also Charlotte’s husband.
Jess Beddington - Jess’s closest friend and co-worker at Charlotte’s Plaice.
PC Ben Dillon - Police Constable in the St. Eves police force. Also Jess’s boyfriend.
PC Fiona Farrell – Police Constable in the St. Eves police force.
Amanda – Nathan’s assistant
Ava Whittington - Lifelong resident of St. Eves. Has known Charlotte since she was born.
Harriett Lawley - as above.
Betty Tubbs - as above.
Leo Reeves - lifelong resident of St. Eves.
Harry Jenkins - lifelong resident of St. Eves.
Garrett Walton - Lifelong resident of St. Eves and skipper of one of St. Eves fishing boat fleet. Also Charlotte’s godfather.
Laura Walton - Garrett’s wife and Charlotte’s godmother.
Yolanda - Owner of the Mini-Mart on the marina.
Adam Pitt – Ex-TV financial advice expert and entrepreneur
Ruby Pitt – Adam’s wife
Frankie Ingram – Local tattooist
Amy Baker – St. Eves resident
Penny Baker – St. Eves resident and Owen’s girlfriend
Owen Fisher – St. Eves resident Penny’s boyfriend
Zac – Penny and Owen’s son
Eddie Lewis – Adam Pitt’s assistant
Georgina Lewis – Eddie’s mum
Danny Fisher – Owen’s cousin
Susan Fisher – Danny’s wife
Big Al – Burger bar owner
Detective Inspector Toby Carter – London police detective
Detective Sargent Ken Rafferty – London police detective
Cindy Powell – Co founder of ‘The Pittettes’
Brenda Tatum – Co founder of ‘The Pittettes’
Josie – Tattooist at Ingram’s Ink
Giles – Tattooist at Ingram’s Ink
Pippin - Charlotte’s West Highland Terrier.
Prologue
The man rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window pane.
Eyes closed, he stood for a while, contemplating his situation, before looking in the mirror which hung between the window frames of his home study.
He ran his hand over his chin, suddenly weary. His reflection told him that, at 61, he still looked good. A few strands of grey peppered his otherwise-dark hair and his taut physique was confirmation that his strict exercise routine was paying off.
He had more money than he knew what to do with, a wife who turned the heads of men half his age, and the stamina of a thirty-year-old. He could party all night long when the occasion called for it, be up at five-thirty to go running, behind his desk by eight, and still run proverbial circles around anyone who dared to think they could get one over on him. Even on three hours’ sleep, he was as sharp as a tack.
So why had she left him?
Moving to sit at his desk, he rested his chin on interlocked fingers. He opened a file on his laptop and clicked on a video within it. It began to play and he sat back in his chair, watching the woman he loved exit a cab outside the exclusive block which housed the luxury apartment he’d bought her.
She held an umbrella close to protect herself from the horizontal rain, but he didn’t need to see her face to know it was her. As she leaned forward to get out of the car, he paused the video to zoom in on something he’d missed the first time he’d watched it. It was a tattoo he’d never seen before, revealed above the low neckline of her t-shirt.
Closer inspection confirmed it was a cherub, holding aloft a heart which enclosed the monogram AB & FI.
His jaw tensed and his knuckles whitened as his nails dug deep into his palms.
FI.
So she was seeing that lowlife. They’d always been close but she’d assured him there was nothing between them—that they were just friends. He should never have trusted her.
As images of them together flooded his thoughts, it took all his mental strength to push them away, the effort making him shudder.
His preoccupation with the situation was momentarily diverted when he clicked into his email. He stared at the message he’d received two weeks previously, his frustration growing.
I know what you did.
I know what you did all those years ago.
You have until the end of June to make amends with those you hurt so deeply.
If you fail to do so, I will go to the press with my story and you can kiss your reputation goodbye.
Remember—the end of June. Not a day later.
He was not easily intimidated but if there was one thing that scared him to his very core, it was not being in control; two situations in as many weeks had left him feeling powerless and it didn’t sit comfortably with him at all.
Fixated on the message he banged his fist on the desk, causing the contents of his desk organiser to jump out of their neat compartments and onto the floor.
He pressed a button on his phone. “Listen, what’s the news on the email? Have you established its source? Damn it, I have to know who sent it. Keep on it, okay? I don’t care how much overtime I have to pay you. Oh, and your weekend to London? You’ll be pleased to know I’m coming with you, so get me on a flight. What? No, definitely not pleasure—strictly business. There’s a little job I want you to do for me…”
He gave his instructions before settling back into his reclining leather chair. A gleaming bronze trophy sat on the corner of his desk and he ran his hand over it, a faint smile on his lips. The plaque on the statuette of a figure, arms raised in triumph, read ‘Triathlon Champion 2012.’ He prided himself on his ability to have beaten men half his age to win that trophy and, dented ego bolstered a little, he rewound the video.
The image of the love of his life with another man’s initials tattooed on her body was intolerable.
So he would take steps to ensure he didn’t have to tolerate it.
If he couldn’t be with her, he would damned well see to it that no one else could either.
Chapter 1
“Are you sure we’ve got everything? Passports, tickets, money? Ohmigosh! Did I remember to unplug the iron?”
Charlotte Costello clambered into the back of the car, a frown creasing her brow.
“Look, will you please stop worrying? Everything’s fine. We haven’t forgotten anything, you didn’t leave the iron on, Pippin’s going to be fine with Leo, and you should be enjoying yourself. This honeymoon’s supposed to
be all about relaxing, not stressing out. And you’ve got the baby to think of now, remember.”
“Er, you don’t have to remind me about the baby, thank you.” She fixed her husband, Nathan, with a glare as she settled into the back seat for the drive to the airport. “I’m the one getting kicked like a football every five minutes.”
Charlotte’s friend, Jess Beddington, grinned at her in the interior mirror. “Well, you don’t have to worry about the café while you’re away because Laura and I will look after everything—we’ll treat ‘Charlotte’s Plaice’ as if it was our own. And you’d better not be calling us every five minutes, either, to check everything’s okay because if you do, you’re going to get on my nerves. Just enjoy your honeymoon and forget about St. Eves for two weeks.”
Almost six months had passed since Charlotte Denver had become Charlotte Costello. A visit to Nathan’s family in Wisconsin in the Midwest USA had always been their first choice for the honeymoon but, when Charlotte had announced her surprise pregnancy, they’d put the trip on hold until after the birth of the baby. Instead, they’d opted to take their honeymoon in London—the capital city that Charlotte had only visited briefly, but which she longed to explore with Nathan while they still had some time to themselves. And to start the trip in comfort, they were making the journey by air, flying from the local airport to London Gatwick.
“Oh, look! Charlotte, look!”
As Jess drove past the back of Charlotte’s marina-front café, a send-off committee comprising of her godparents, Garrett and Laura, and her dear friends, Ava, Harriett, Betty, Harry, and Leo, waved them off from the side of the road. As they all blew kisses and called out their best wishes for a happy honeymoon, Leo held Charlotte’s West Highland Terrier, Pippin, in his arms and waved his paw up and down.
“Oh, that’s so sweet of them! Oh, look at Pippin! Oh dear...” Charlotte delved into her bag for one of the many packs of tissues she’d become accustomed to carrying around.
Over the past few months her hormones had caught her out on numerous occasions, causing her to burst into floods of impromptu tears several times a day. She hoped that when they arrived safely in London and the honeymoon really began, the tears would abate.
“Jess, can you pull over for a minute, please?” Nathan undid his seatbelt.
“Oh! What is it? What did we forget?” Charlotte went into a mild panic.
“Nothing. We didn’t forget anything. Everything’s fine. I’m coming to sit in the back with you, that’s all.” He shuffled along the back seat and put his arm around her. “Come here.” Taking a freshly-laundered handkerchief from his pocket, he dried her tears. “Now, please. Will you try to relax and look forward to the next two weeks? We’re going to have a fantastic holiday, you, me, and little baby Costello.”
As she leaned against his chest, Charlotte felt all her anxiety melt away.
She closed her eyes and thought how lovely it was that her friends had made time to come and see them off.
I’m so lucky, she thought as she drifted off into a light sleep. And this holiday is going to be fabulous. Two weeks of relaxation and time to ourselves. We could both do with a rest.
ººººººº
The airport was buzzing. A busy Saturday afternoon guaranteed that every luggage trolley was conspicuous by its absence, and crowds of people mooching over departure boards and queuing to check-in, filled the terminal with the muted anticipation of exciting times ahead.
“Wait here a minute, I’m going to see if I can find a trolley.” Nathan disappeared, leaving Charlotte with the bags.
It was a long time since she’d been in an airport. The last time had been when she’d arrived back from Spain with Garrett and Laura, following the death of her parents. She quickly put the memory from her mind.
As she sat on her case, watching the bustling hordes of travellers, it didn’t escape her attention that a great number of them bore intricate tattoos.
A young woman with a smooth, ash-blonde, asymmetric haircut caught her eye. Sitting on a bench beside the group with whom she appeared to be travelling, she was making cooing noises at an endearingly podgy toddler with a shock of ginger hair. As the baby clung to her sleeve, she shrugged out of her jacket to reveal a series of striking tattoos running from her hand to her shoulder, depicting the various stages of a butterfly as it emerged from its dull chrysalis into an open-winged beauty.
The woman turned suddenly. She was directly in Charlotte’s line of sight and Charlotte felt embarrassed at having been caught staring at her. She smiled and Charlotte smiled back.
“Your first?” She nodded at Charlotte’s bump.
“Yes.”
“How far along are you?”
“Twenty-nine weeks.”
“Ah, that’s a nice time, I seem to remember. I’d stopped riding my bike by then and was walking everywhere. Just me and him.” She pointed to the little boy. “It was a great bonding experience.” Her voice switched captivatingly between a lilting South West burr and a clipped London accent.
“Mummy! Mummeeeee!” The child held up his arms and she lifted him onto her lap. Gurgling happily, he turned to face her and patted his hands on her cheeks.
Charlotte watched as the woman laughed and pulled the baby close, rocking him back and forth. It was a perfectly normal action and one that millions of mothers throughout the world carried out countless times every day but in Charlotte’s highly emotional state, it was the trigger for more spontaneous tears.
“Oh, are you okay?” the woman called across to her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! How embarrassing! Yes, I’m fine. It’s my hormones. They’ve been catching me out for a couple of weeks now.” Charlotte retrieved Nathan’s handkerchief from up her sleeve and wiped her eyes. “I’m actually quite rational, usually!” She blew her nose and grinned.
“No need to apologise,” sympathised the woman. “I spent almost five weeks in floods of tears one minute and screaming blue murder at Owen the next.” She nodded at the man standing close by and he turned, a half-smile on his lips.
“Ah, yes, but I was prepared for every eventuality so I took it all in my stride—plenty of earplugs and camomile tea to maintain the serenity levels.”
The woman laughed. “He was so brilliant. If I’d been him, I think I would have scared me off. Every minute was worth it, though. This little fella makes up for all of it. Don’t you, Zac?” She bounced her son on her knees and he squealed with gurgling baby laughter. “Anyway,” she turned back to Charlotte, “where are you off to?”
“London.”
“Hey! Us, too. You’re not going for the Internat Tat Awards, by any chance, are you?”
“The what?”
“The International Tattoo Artist of the Year Awards.” The woman laughed. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, though, so we call it the Internat Tat Awards. It’s a lot easier!” She nodded to the crowds. “Quite a lot of people are going.”
“Ah, I see—that explains all the tattoos.” Charlotte smiled. “Anyway, to answer your question, no, we’re not going for the awards. We’re on our belated honeymoon.”
“Oh, congratulations! Where are you staying?
“At The Milestone.”
The woman gave a low whistle of approval. “Very nice—fabulous hotel. We might even bump into each other—our place is on the next street back. It’s close to where the awards ceremony’s being held and it saves on hotel bills. There’s a crowd of us, see.” She gestured to the group of people around her. “And little Zac, of course.” She tickled his bare feet and he gave a joyful squeal.
“We’re all clients of Frankie’s, well, almost all of us. He’s the tattooist who’s up for the award,” the woman explained, upon seeing Charlotte’s blank look. “That’s him over there, talking to my sister, Amy.”
Charlotte followed the woman’s pointing finger to see a short, muscular man casually dressed in a t-shirt and ripped jeans, a denim jacket tied loosely around his hips and a slouchy beanie hat p
ulled down over his head. A large brightly-coloured tattoo of a skull and crossbones adorned his thick neck, which he constantly scratched throughout his conversation with a young woman whose butter-blonde hair fell in an immaculate sheet over her shoulders. Charlotte noticed that when he said something which made her laugh, she touched his heavily tattooed bicep lightly and smiled adoringly.
“Yeah, so anyway, “ the woman continued, “he’s been nominated for the past four years and come second every time but this year we’re sure that trophy has his name on it. We always travel up to support him, although I missed the actual ceremony last year because Zac was only six months old. It’s pretty major—nominees from all over the world travel to London especially for it.”
The woman moved her baby from one leg to the other before sticking out her hand. “I’m Penny, by the way.”
“Charlotte.” Charlotte pushed herself up from her suitcase to shake hands. “Nice to meet you. And who knows, maybe we will bump into each other.”
As she pulled her hand back, the toddler grabbed hold of her thumb and grinned up at her. Even though his chin was covered in dribble he was the cutest thing, and enough to prompt the tears to come spilling out again before she had a chance to keep them in check.
“Oh, dear...sorry.”
Nathan reappeared with a trolley, to find Charlotte reaching for his handkerchief again.
“Everything alright?”
“We were just talking about how your hormones can mess you up. She’s a little emotional,” explained Penny.
“You could say that.” Nathan smiled as he loaded the cases onto the trolley. “But she was pretty emotional before the baby, so it’s not altogether unexpected.” He grinned. “Right, come on; let’s get these cases checked in.” He nodded to the family in farewell.
“Yes, lovely to meet you. Good luck with the rest of your pregnancy.”
“Thanks, and good to meet you, too.”
The woman turned her son to face Charlotte. “Say bye-bye to the lady, Zac.” The little boy gave Charlotte a beaming smile as he bounced on chubby legs and grabbed her finger with his tiny hand.
