Angel's Trap : Book 1 of The Secret of the Oxpen's Angel : Read One Of The Most Gripping Women's Crime Fiction Novels Here!

by Lei R. Tasker

  “Ex,” Paige said firmly, “He cheated on me. Twice, actually.”

  “Oh, wow,” Leo said, “I apologise for presuming it had anything to do with my family – it sounds like a dose of weird is the least of your worries. Were you with him long?”

  “Less than a year, but I moved in with him just before Christmas. And then he kissed a girl at my friend’s New Year’s Eve party.”

  “What a dick,” Leo sipped his whiskey.

  “I’m not sure why I stayed with him after that. I suppose I thought it was a lapse in judgment, that he wouldn’t ever do it again.” Despite her glowing red cheeks – an involuntary side effect of thinking about Rufus again – Paige felt Leo easy to talk to. He listened to her intently, but with the sort of sympathetic expression that a friend or family member would have. Paige realised she hadn’t really spoken to anyone about Rufus since the day Marie had called her – her mum and Tom hadn’t forced her to share any details and so she hadn’t told them much at all, except for the essentials.

  “Once that line is crossed it is easy to cross it again,” Leo said.

  “A lesson I had to learn the hard way,” Paige nodded, “But, I’m free of him now.”

  “And you’re enjoying your time in Oxford?” Leo asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Paige said, “Although this town holds some bittersweet memories for me. My grandmother lived here, and I spent most summer and Christmas holidays with her here. Almost everything reminds me of her.” Paige noticed she had been fiddling with her keys since they sat down, rubbing her thumb over the same spot on a small wooden keyring. She was pulled back 15 years to a Christmas spent in Oxford. Her mum, dad and grandmother were sat on the floor of her grandmother’s living room, eagerly watching her open her presents. Despite the toys and chocolate that she’d opened earlier in the day, the final present, a tiny, neatly wrapped parcel left on the tree, was the most exciting. It was from her dad, and that thought made it all the more special – he had a tradition of saving one present until the end, one just from him. Paige knew as she ripped into it that he had selected it himself, with no hint or clue from her or her mum. It was a wooden keyring, varnished so that it was shiny, and with the letter “P” carved in the middle; her dad’s nickname for her, and now Tom’s. It may have seemed a simple gift, but to nine-year-old Paige, it was her most prizes possession. Now, with over a decade passed and both her dad and grandmother dead, she had taken to holding it in her hand and fiddling with it, so much so that part of the lacquer was wearing away in a thumb-sized patch.

  “I presume she is no longer with us?” Leo said with a sad smile.

  “She passed away four years ago, not long after my dad died,” Paige said, her breath catching in her throat the same way it did every time she thought of her dad.

  “I’m so sorry,” Leo said, “To lose both of them so close together must have been very difficult.”

  “It was,” Paige said, “I thought I would never recover from the pain.”

  “It isn’t quite the same to lose a sibling as to lose a parent, but I can empathise. When I lost my sister, I was so young, I felt like the world had ended.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry, you know exactly how it feels. How old were you?” Paige said gently.

  “I was 6 years old. She was 13, barely a teenager when we lost her. We were very close, despite the age gap,” Leo said, eyes drifting unfocussed in the mid distance.

  “I’m so sorry,” Paige said, “She was so young.”

  “She was. There is nothing as surreal as a child’s funeral,” he said, lost in memories, but the open tone of their conversation was encouraging him to speak, “It poured for her funeral day. My parents planned a huge wake in the garden after the church service, and we had to cancel it. I didn’t think that day could be any more difficult, but somehow knowing that the rain had spoiled her wake made it so much harder. Her coffin was so tiny... it was as if she wasn’t in there at all. As if it was for someone else.” He broke off as if worried her drifted too far into the past. Paige gave a sympathetic smile to reassure him that she understood. Leo gave a half-smile back.

  “How awful, your parents must have been devastated,” Paige said.

  “Yes... especially as my father blames himself,” Leo said gravely, “He was there when she died.”

  “Oh my god... that’s awful. But why does he blame himself?”

  “Well, because it was his from..” Leo was cut off as Paige’s phone began to ring, “Do you need to get that?” Paige examined the screen and saw Rufus’ name appear.

  “No, I’ll ignore it,” Paige said, pressing the call decline button. Her phone immediately started to ring again, “I’m really sorry,” she said, muting her phone. She noticed she had two texts from her mum.

  Mum

  19.30pm

  Rufus rang me. He’s coming to Oxford this weekend and wants to see you.

  19.32pm

  What do I do?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “IS EVERYTHING OK?” Leo said, noticing the look on Paige’s face.

  “It’s my ex, he’s coming to Oxford to try and see me,” Paige said, beginning to regret agreeing to the drink. So much had changed in the last week that she hadn’t really realised how quickly it had all happened. She hadn’t even gotten her stuff from Rufus’ flat yet. What am I dragging Leo into?

  “Does he know where your mum lives?”

  “Yes, he visited her with me a few months ago...” Paige realised that Rufus could turn up at her mum’s house at any point.

  “It’s okay if you have to get home,” Leo said.

  “No, I want to stay,” Paige said. Her phone vibrated again, this time with a text from Rufus.

  Paige unlocked the phone and read it aloud to Leo:

  Rufus

  19.32pm

  I gave you space, but I want to talk. I’ve packed up your stuff and I’m coming to Oxford to see you. I’ve just stopped at Chieveley services, see you soon.

  Leo blew out his breath in disbelief. “I’m really sorry,” Paige said, “I think I have to go and deal with this. He’s only half an hour away.”

  “I understand. Next time, it’s your round,” he added cheekily, standing up and downing his drink.

  “Definitely, next time,” Paige said, “Please stay, you don’t have to see me out.”

  “That’s okay, I make a point of never drinking alone if I can help it.”

  “Very sensible.”

  Paige rang Tom, who picked her up outside the pub.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Leo said, coming to stand with Paige at the front of the building. Tom’s car pulled up, a familiar and comforting sight that reminded Paige of her childhood years with her dad. Tom and her dad had been friends for so long they were always intertwined in her mind. They felt like home.

  “Good evening, you two,” Tom said, rolling down the passenger side window and leaning so that they could hear him.

  “Thanks for picking me up,” Paige said, “Leo, this is my step-dad, Tom,” she turned back to Leo and was surprised to see his face had fallen, “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “What?” He seemed to jump out of his thought chain to make eye contact with her again, returning to his light-hearted smile like flicking a switch, “Sorry, I was away with the fairies for a second. Lovely to meet you, Tom” he said, leaning in for a rather awkward handshake.

  “Sure, pal, you too!” Tom said, also clearly somewhat confused by Leo’s change in attitude, “Come on, P, we better get going, your mum is frantic.”

  Tom took her home, as arranged. That car was filled with so many memories that it almost made Paige forget what was to come. Her life had become so complicated over the last few years, she yearned to return to that childhood feeling of freedom.

  As they got out of the car, Paige noticed a blue Audi parked up the curb outside of their house and her heart jumped. Rufus got out of the driver’s side and walked over.

  “Paige, please, just talk to me,” he said
, approaching her with arms open wide.

  “Keep your distance, pal, she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Tom said, putting himself between Rufus and Paige.

  “Paige?” Her mum came out of the house.

  “It’s okay Sarah, Rufus is just leaving,” Tom said firmly.

  “I need to talk to Paige,” Rufus said, “And I’m not leaving until I have.”

  “Look, you’ve had a long drive, and Paige has had a tough week as it is. Just put Paige’s things on the pavement, get back in your car, leave, and she’ll ring you when she’s ready,” Tom said, “Sarah, get Paige’s things out of the car, I can see them right there.”

  Tiptoeing out of the house in her slippers, Paige’s mum started to unload the car. Rufus didn’t seem to notice, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Paige’s in a wild stare.

  Normally, Paige would have asked Tom to stop speaking for her, but at that moment she was glad of his help.

  Rufus came closer, hands held up in peace, but looking past Tom at Paige. “Those girls, it wasn’t what you think.”

  “Okay, that’s enough now,” Tom said, anger rising in his voice as he walked towards Rufus.

  “Rufus, I’m not interested, Marie told me what she saw,” Paige said.

  “Yes, I entered the hotel room with her, but-”

  “We’ve heard enough - Paige said she doesn’t want to talk to you, please leave,” Tom said, coming to stand a foot or so away from Rufus.

  “Paige, please, I only kissed the first one because-” Rufus started, but was cut off by Tom grabbing his jacket and forcing him backwards towards the car, “Hey, get off me!” Rufus shouted, pushing Tom hard in the chest.

  Tom lunged forward, pushing Rufus in the chest and shouting, “That’s enough now, get in your car!”

  Rufus’ face darkened with frustration as he too began to lose his temper, “Fine!” he yelled, backing away to his car, “I’ll call you, Paige,” he added, getting into his car.

  “You better fucking not!” Tom called after him as Rufus sped away.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AFTER THE STRESS OF the weekend, Paige was glad to get back to the Ecklands’. The job was starting to feel like a routine, and she had made good progress with the Taming of the Shrew essay. She worked until early afternoon that day typing the finished draft and proudly presented it to Eckland, who read it thoughtfully.

  “This is good work,” he said, “Well done on including Collington’s 2016 paper in the footnotes, I had forgotten to. Now,” he paused and gave a long sigh, “to find more gems.”

  Paige was growing fond of his strange way of emphasising random words and was pleased that he was happy with her work. She returned to the study, clasping the printout of the essay proudly.

  Sitting at the desk, she took a moment, reflecting on her next steps. As much as she had enjoyed editing the Taming of the Shrew essay, she was still a little reluctant to go back to sifting through page after page of pointless notes.

  Absent-mindedly tapping her finger on antique walnut kneehole desk, she surveyed the room, procrastinating the next task. The desk was clearly old – it was solid Walnut wood with drawers either side of the seat and one large drawer in the middle which held writing paper and boxes of expensive fountain pens. Paige had never dared to use them, although she expected Eckland would have preferred it if she did as he considered word-processing on a computer to be somewhat informal.

  The top of the desk was covered with three panels of green leather – Eckland had boasted about how it had been passed down from his grandfather, who had been a journalist in London in the 1880s. A bronze bust of Shakespeare overlooked the top of the desk, perched somewhat judgementally on a stand in the middle section, so that he looked over anyone who was writing there. Paige wondered if Eckland had positioned him like that deliberately.

  As she tapped her fingers against the faded green leather, she noticed that the bottom right corner, had begun to peel away. As she looked closer, she noticed the point of a small white piece of paper poking out. Gently lifting where the edge of the leather met the wood, she pulled the piece of paper out. It was very small and had clearly been ripped off one of Eckland’s essays as part of his handwriting in blue fountain pen could be made out at the top.

  In the bottom left of the small scrap of paper, someone had written in black biro: “Great work – E.G”. E.G – example? Paige thought to herself.

  The piece of paper seemed to be a remnant of an entire essay, but Paige wondered how it had ended up being ripped off. It didn’t seem to be deliberate, as the note written on it was clearly supposed to accompany the rest of the work.

  She looked again at the leather, she noticed that the entire panel seemed loose. She lifted gently again, finding that it lifted up easily and was backed with more wood, to reveal a hidden compartment in the top of the desk.

  Inside were two pieces of paper. The first had the same blue fountain pen and black biro as the scrap that she had found, which lead her to presume it was the same piece of paper. It seemed that whoever had shut these in the compartment had slammed the lid down, ripping the corner and leaving it poking out.

  Unlike Eckland’s other papers, this one had an ink stamp at the top – a lioness, sat upright and facing outwards.

  Eckland’s writing seemed to be his usual style of work - nothing special enough that it would need to be kept separately – but the delicate handwritten biro notes were unlike anything Paige had come across in the rest of his work.

  They were clearly written by someone educated in his field, but the handwriting was youthful compared to Eckland’s cursive, with each i dotted with a carefully drawn heart. This indicated these notes were not from Arlene, and Paige suspected Leo didn’t write his i with a heart over them either.

  Paige looked again at the scrap that had torn off in the corner. “E.G” is capitalised, she thought, perhaps it isn’t e.g. “for example”... they could be initials.

  She continued reading down the page and came across a marginal comment from Eckland, off to one side and on an angle, unlike the essay. It read:

  “02.05.19 – thank you for your notes, Ella. Wonderful work and PLENTY more to do.”

  Paige’s heart leapt. Ella... she thought, E.G. Could this be the handwriting of the girl who had been killed in Oxpens Meadow the day after Paige was attacked?

  Hands shaking, she tried to slow her breathing and think. If Ella had hidden these notes in here, hoping that someone would find them, she shouldn’t let anyone know that she had. However, if Eckland had hidden them in here, hoping to hide his connection to Ella, her finding them could put her in danger.

  After several minutes staring at the piece of paper, rereading “E.G” and Eckland’s note, she put the paper back in the hidden compartment. She packed her things and went to find Eckland, who was in the sunroom at the back of the house where he always was at this time of day, drinking a cup of tea and reading the local newspaper. Arlene was in the garden, pottering from flowerbed to flowerbed, dead-heading and weeding.

  “Paige!” Eckland said, surprise evident in his tone, “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Yes, actually, thank you,” Paige said, taking a seat on the sofa opposite him and placing her bag down at her ankle. She accepted the cup but didn’t drink.

  “Did you read the paper last week?” Paige gestured to Eckland’s newspaper, knowing that the story of Ella Gold’s death had been in the local paper.

  “We buy it every week – it is so important to support our local papers. My grandfather was a journalist, you know,” Eckland said.

  “Yes, I remember you saying,” Paige said.

  “Would you like to borrow it when I’ve finished?” Eckland asked, no change in his voice to indicate that he had understood Paige’s hint.

  “No, thank you, I buy it too,” Paige said, and with a deep breath added, “I read the saddest story last week – a local girl, a student, had been killed. Ella Gold, she was just 20.”

  �
��A tragedy, but no, I don’t remember that,” Eckland said, “I tend to only retain the arts section – can’t get too bogged down with the horrors in the general news,” he added, returning to this page.

  Paige studied his face as he spoke – it was the same as always, overly expressive, eyebrows jumping up and down so much that his glasses bounced. If he had known Ella Gold, he wasn’t letting on.

  She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it now. Thinking quickly, she said to Eckland, “I’m afraid I have to go home early today – I’m feeling a little unwell.”

  “Oh gosh, get home right away! You’ve been working yourself too hard – no rest for the wicked!”

  “Thank you, Professor Eckland,” Paige said, getting her bag.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ONCE OUT, SHE BEGAN to question her motives. What was she hoping to achieve? If Eckland had known Ella Gold, why would he lie?

  She had only one more idea of what to do. Walking hurriedly back towards her mum’s house, she walked the familiar footpath, anxiously rubbing her hands together.

  Before long she was by the river, entering Oxpens Meadow. The footpath was busy, with lots of people walking in the same direction as Paige.

  She rounded the corner and saw the angel statue. The area was crowded with people, hugging each other and crying. The ground around the statue was covered in bunches of flowers, tealights and sympathy cards.

  Paige approached the statue, gently pushing through the crowds of people. They were mostly stood in small groups and seemed to be university age – presumably Ella’s friends and classmates.

  She weaved through the bundles of flowers, being careful not to tread on anything. The sympathy cards spoke of a “friendly girl” who “was loved by everyone”. The angel stood surveying the scene, and her cupped hands holding out a photo of Ella.

  The photo appeared to have been taken on holiday, possibly Spain or Ibiza, somewhere warm and sunny, and Ella was dressed in shorts, a tank top and sandals. She was stood, posing charismatically in the doorway of a hotel room.