Stroke of Death

by Agatha Frost

  Liz opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. An invitation to dinner with Christopher’s fiancée was the last thing she expected to hear.

  “Oh,” Liz said. “I would have to ask Simon.”

  “I want Lizzie to meet my friends,” Christopher replied, not seeming to note Liz’s reservations. “After all, she is going to be my wife very soon, and I want her to feel right at home.”

  “I’ll have to ask -”

  “Brilliant!” Christopher interjected, flashing his sparkling white teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eight.”

  Christopher turned on his heels and marched back the way he had come before Liz had a chance to say another word. An evening with Christopher and his new fiancée was not Liz’s idea of fun. She was sure Simon would object, but Liz had heard hopefulness in Christopher’s voice that she could not disappoint. Liz knew she needed to give Lizzie a chance for Christopher’s sake.

  9

  At ten to eight the next evening, Liz and Simon found themselves standing outside Christopher’s Victorian townhouse. Tucked away on the edge of Scarlet Cove, the beautiful four-story white house, which was as wide as it was tall, was nestled between a luxury spa and a bed and breakfast, the latter proudly boasting its five-star rating and ‘NO VACANCIES’ sign.

  “I’ve never been to this side of town before,” Liz muttered as she looked up at the gorgeous building in awe. “How the other half live, eh?”

  “I’ll take my farm any day of the week,” Simon replied as he tugged at his cotton shirt collar. “I still can’t believe you’ve convinced me it’s a good idea to have dinner at Fishy Chris’ house.”

  “It’s good to make friends,” Liz said, turning to look at the lighthouse as its golden beam washed the dark ocean. “They have a great view here.”

  “Best view at street level in the whole town,” Simon said as he examined the wine they had picked up at the corner shop on the way to ‘The Posh End’, as Sandra had referred to it. “How do I look?”

  Liz dusted down the shoulders of the tweed jacket Simon had borrowed from his father before pecking him on the cheek.

  “As handsome as the day I met you.”

  With her arm tucked around Simon’s, they walked up the three immaculate steps to the front door, which was flanked by two ornate Romanesque columns. Liz reached out her hand to ring the doorbell, but Simon pulled her back at the last second.

  “It’s not too late to leave,” Simon whispered with a playful grin. “We can take this wine up to the castle and act like teenagers instead.”

  As tempting as the idea was, she pressed the doorbell anyway, much to Simon’s disappointment. She looked down at the calf-length black dress she had retrieved from her flat and had dry-cleaned especially. Given a choice, she would have chosen a comfortable pair of jeans and a jumper, but she imagined Lizzie would be wearing something gorgeous.

  Liz knew she could never compete with the Australian beauty, but the green-eyed monster buried deep within urged her to try. Simon’s speechless reaction to her makeover after letting Polly Spragg blow-dry her hair and apply a little makeup had given her hope that she could at least raise one of Lizzie’s eyebrows. She had asked herself why she cared so much, but her detective skills had yet to reach a conclusion.

  The door burst open with a flurry of chaos. A golden Pomeranian darted through Christopher’s legs, almost knocking him off his feet. Liz scooped up the miniature dog with one hand. She passed it back to Christopher through the gap as he fought to stop the other two yapping dogs from darting out.

  “Elizabeth!” Christopher cried, his face red as white strands of his hair broke-free from their slicked back position. “You both came! Sorry about the dogs. They were Katelyn’s, and I haven’t decided what to do with them yet.”

  The three Pomeranians, two golden and one jet-black, sped down the hallway, ruffling the rug. Liz still could not wrap her head around the thought of Katelyn owning anything that she could describe as ‘cute’. If Liz was going to imagine Katelyn with a dog, the English Bull Terrier with its egg-shaped head and beady eyes came to mind.

  “We wouldn’t turn down an invitation to dinner,” Liz said, pushing forward a smile. “Would we, Simon?”

  “It’s not like I had much choice.”

  Liz nudged him in the ribs while maintaining her smile. As Christopher kept the dogs at bay, Liz and Simon slipped through the gap in the door. She made sure to give Simon a ‘play nice’ look as they did.

  “We brought wine,” Simon said, thrusting the bottle forward. “It’s a pinot noir. The man in the shop said it would go well with fish.”

  “How thoughtful,” Christopher said as he examined the bottle at arm’s length as though it was an explosive device. “We have an entire cellar full of wine, but I’m sure it will be interesting to try something from a shop.”

  “It all tastes the same to me!” Liz exclaimed with a laugh that sounded foreign to her ears. “You have a lovely home. Doesn’t he, Simon?”

  Simon grunted as he looked up at the glittering chandelier above them, a tight smile on his lips. If the hallway was anything to go by, Christopher’s home was decorated just as she had expected. Classic dark wood furniture filled the space, each piece looking impossibly heavy. None of the furnishings shone lighter than dull beige, with dark greens and rich reds taking control. Aside from a modern telephone on the sideboard, Liz would not have been surprised if she had stepped through a portal into 1892.

  “Katelyn picked out the art,” Christopher said when he caught Liz looking at the dreary portraits on the walls. “Isn’t it odd how someone can be here, and then they’re gone?”

  Liz rested her hand on Christopher’s arm. He smiled his appreciation, but his momentary display of grief vanished. As though he had betrayed himself, Christopher spun on his heels to lead them down the corridor. He straightened the rug with his shoe before turning into the sitting room, which was as extravagantly decorated as the hallway.

  “These bloody dogs!” Lizzie yelled from her spot on the couch as the three dogs ran laps around her. “If I’d have known I was moving into a damn kennel, I would have stayed Down Under!”

  “I’m sorry,” Christopher replied like a berated child. “It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  “I bloody hope not!”

  “What are you doing with them?” Liz asked, remembering how Christopher had almost given Paddy away to a shelter after his head fisher’s murder had left the dog without a home. She hated to think what would have become of Paddy if she had not stepped in.

  “I don’t know,” Christopher said meekly as he smiled at his fiancée. “I’ll figure it out after I’ve finished planning the funeral.”

  The brief sadness returned to Christopher’s eyes, but only fleetingly; no one else in the room seemed to even notice, except for Liz.

  “I was saying to Christopher what a lovely home this was,” Liz said to Lizzie with a smile, shocked at how she suddenly sounded like her own mother did when she used to force small talk at the never-ending dinner parties through Liz’s childhood. “It’s very traditional.”

  “I think it’s hideous,” Lizzie exclaimed, her Australian accent growing shriller with every word. “If we’re staying here, I’m redecorating as soon as we’re back from the honeymoon. Something modern will brighten up this dark hole.”

  “If?” Liz echoed.

  “We haven’t decided where we’re going to live yet,” Christopher said, his stiff smile not shifting. “We’ve discussed staying here in Scarlet Cove, but Elisabeth is quite keen to return home.”

  “You bet I am,” Lizzie said after tossing back the last mouthful of wine in the glass she had been cradling. “It’s miserable here, and the people are so – so British! I’d jump on the first plane home tomorrow if I could.”

  Lizzie looked down into her empty wine glass with an exhausted-sounding huff. As Liz had expected, she looked stunning in a floor-length champagne chiffon dress that brought out the warmth
of her tanned skin. Somehow, she appeared less refined than the other times Liz had seen her. Her hair was not quite done, and the flush in her cheeks told Liz she had been drinking wine for most of the evening.

  “Is the food ready yet?” Lizzie cried, rolling her head back on the antique couch. “I could eat a dingo.”

  “Daniel, from the restaurant, is cooking for us tonight,” Christopher explained, looking unsure of how to react to his intoxicated fiancée. “We’ll be eating in the formal dining room tonight. I’ll see how he’s getting on, and while I’m there, I’ll open this bottle of wine.”

  “I’ll take a top up,” Lizzie exclaimed, thrusting her glass into the air. “And I don’t want a half-measure this time.”

  Christopher accepted the glass before hurrying off. Not only did he seem unsure of his soon-to-be wife, but he also seemed a little scared of her. Christopher had always struck Liz as confident, even if he did have a layer of vulnerability under his refined exterior. Since his return from Australia, he seemed different, and not for the better. Was it because of his sister’s recent murder, or was there something else going on?

  As Lizzie examined a chip in her nails instead of indulging in small talk with her dinner guests, Liz realised the dinner had not been Lizzie’s idea. She felt foolish for going to such an effort to compete in a non-existent beauty pageant.

  “Where in Australia are you from?” Simon asked, also noticing the stubborn silence. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s lovely.”

  “Sydney,” she snapped. “Best country in the world, if you ask me.”

  Simon shot the Australian a look that Liz knew read ‘I didn’t ask, but thanks for sharing’. Luckily for the three of them, Christopher returned to let them know dinner was ready. Lizzie pulled herself off the couch before leading them through to the adjoining dining room. Her sickly sweet floral perfume tugged at the back of Liz’s throat; it took all her energy not to cough.

  “This is going to be a long evening,” Simon whispered as he walked next to Liz, his hand resting on the small of her back. “Is it too late to take back the bottle of wine and make a run for it?”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Liz replied before she realised what she was saying. “Christopher needs friends right now, and he’s hardly swimming in them, is he?”

  “I wonder why?”

  Simon’s comment did not need further explanation, even for Liz. During her early days in Scarlet Cove, she had not taken the greatest liking to Christopher, but he had managed to change her opinion. When he stopped trying to win over her affections, she found that she quite enjoyed his company. He was socially awkward and often insensitive, but she knew that was a result of his boarding school upbringing. On paper, he was the last person she would find herself striking up a friendship with, but in reality, their differences made for interesting conversation.

  The table was big enough to seat twenty, but only four places had been set under the glow of another chandelier. Liz and Simon took one side, while Lizzie and Christopher took the other. The three dogs hurried into the dining room and straight under the table. Fluffy fur rubbed against Liz’s exposed ankles, making her giggle. Lizzie, who was sitting across from her, looked at her as though she was a piece of chewing gum she had found stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

  Daniel Bishop, the owner of The Sea Platter restaurant on the coast, entered the room with a silver trolley. Even though Christopher had forced Daniel into bankruptcy so he could buy his restaurant, the two men were now business partners. After seeing the error of his ways, Christopher had agreed to go into partnership with Daniel by buying half the business. Daniel served as further proof to Liz that Christopher was not as bad as people believed.

  “Cream of scarlet prawns and tomato with truffled seaweed and lobster coral,” Daniel announced as he began serving the starter dishes. “Or in English, tomato and prawn soup with lobster chunks. Trust me when I say it tastes nicer than it sounds.”

  Daniel finished serving the bowls of soup before cracking open the bottle of wine Liz and Simon had brought. After pouring them all generous measures, he left them to enjoy their starter, which as he had assured them, was delicious. Lizzie and Christopher ate it as though it was a tin of Heinz soup from the cupboard, but Liz and Simon savoured every mouthful. Liz had never wondered what luxury soup tasted like, but she knew this was it.

  “As soup goes, that might have been the nicest I’ve ever had,” Simon said as he wiped some of the red sauce from his chin with a white napkin. “I can’t say I’ve ever tried lobster before.”

  Lizzie arched a brow as though he had said he had never tasted something as trivial as an apple or bread. It had only taken one course for Liz to abandon all hope of warming to Lizzie for Christopher’s sake. She disliked the woman, and she was not afraid to let that thought run through her mind. She reminded Liz of Katelyn, and that was enough for her to realise they were never going to forge a relationship.

  The next course was low temperature cooked grouper on a tomato lagoon with marine plankton foam, which loosely translated into cooked grouper on a bed of tomato sauce with a green drizzle over the top. Like the first course, it was like nothing Liz had ever eaten before. She was glad that by the time they had all finished their main course, the conversation was flowing a little easier. Lizzie, however, had taken a vow of silence.

  “I’m pleasantly surprised by this wine,” Christopher said after swishing it around his mouth. “It bears an uncanny resemblance to an excellent crate of pinot that I picked up from a winery in Burgundy when I visited France last summer. How much did this cost?”

  “Six pounds and twenty pence,” Simon announced without a shred of shame. “My mum likes this one for special occasions.”

  “Your mum has good taste,” Christopher said, cocking his glass to Simon. “Good choice.”

  “I’ve never been able to taste the difference between most wines,” Liz admitted. “It’s either red, white, or rosé, and I usually go for whatever is on offer.”

  Christopher chuckled, but Lizzie shot Liz another disapproving look. Liz replied by sipping more of her wine before smiling across the table. She imagined Lizzie had grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth; it still seemed firmly crammed in there.

  After a delicious dessert of rich chocolate mousse with a surprise brownie hidden at the bottom of the cup, Daniel came in to clear away the table. He filled up their glasses for the final time before wishing them all goodnight. When Liz glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece behind her, she was surprised that they had been there for almost two hours. Despite Lizzie’s obvious discomfort in their presence, Liz was not having an awful time. From the relaxed look on Simon’s face as he chatted to Christopher about his latest batch of cheese, neither was he.

  When the conversation switched to Christopher's plans for his business in the coming year, Lizzie slipped away without excusing herself. It took Liz almost half an hour to realise that she had not returned, and she doubted she would.

  “She gets headaches,” Christopher explained when he caught Liz looking at the empty chair. “She’s been suffering with them all day.”

  “How did you two meet?” Simon asked, now as interested in the unusual pairing as Liz was.

  “It was during a gala dinner in Sydney that my parents were attending,” he started, his eyes glazing over as he stared into the surface of his wine. “It was to raise money for a children’s charity, so Katelyn and I went with our chequebooks to try and do some good. I was waiting for a drink at the bar when Elisabeth came over. We hit it off right away. She complimented my tuxedo and started asking about what I did for a living. She was the most beautiful woman in the room. I fell instantly in love with her.”

  It sounded more like infatuation than love, but Liz bit her tongue and sipped her wine, not wanting to burst his bubble.

  “That was during my first week in Australia,” Christopher explained. “We went on a formal date the next evening, and we continued to see each other eve
ry day after that. She was nice.”

  “Was?” Simon said, noticing the word along with Liz.

  “Is nice,” Christopher corrected himself with a firm blink. “When my parents encouraged me to propose, I thought they were being a little forward. I realised if she turned me down, I would return home at the end of the month with nothing gained. I bought a ring and picked a moment during a dinner that both our parents were attending. She said yes, and the rest is history. I ordered a new fleet of fishing boats, and there was a problem with production, so we came back to England. To be honest with you, I could have dealt with it over the phone, but Katelyn and I were glad of the excuse to come back. I can’t help but think if we had stayed she – she would still be here, and this whole ordeal could have been avoided.”

  Christopher’s eyes suddenly watered, and to Liz’s surprise, he did not suppress them. The glittering tears rolled down his cheeks without fuss or noise. Liz remembered something he had once told her about boarding school boys being skilled at silently crying after years of practising in crowded dormitories. Without hesitation, Liz sprang up and ran around the long table. She crouched by his side, wrapping an arm around him. She looked across at Simon, hoping he would not be angry with her comforting ‘Fishy Chris’, but he looked as concerned as she felt.

  “It’s okay to cry,” she assured him. “It might help.”

  “Tears achieve nothing,” he replied before dabbing them away with a napkin. “Enough. Death is as natural as life. We all have to go one way, it’s unfortunate that someone else cut my sister’s life short. Will you excuse me? I need to feed the dogs.”

  Christopher slipped from under her arm and out of the room.

  “Poor guy,” Simon said as he reached for his wine. “It’s easy to forget he’s real under that Victorian gentlemen character.”

  “It’s not a character,” Liz said, almost defensively. “That’s who he is. He’s as real as you and me. Imagine if your sister was murdered. Some people are more adept at hiding grief than others.”