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

  17.14pm

  Are you here?

  The Nokia alert sounded again, but she still couldn’t pinpoint its location. It had definitely sounded behind her, but she was at the front of the Starbucks, so that didn’t reveal anything. She tried to gauge how far away it had sounded. Had it been muffled by a pocket?

  One more try, she thought.

  07764321123 – unknown number

  17.16pm

  I’ll be here until 5.30 waiting.

  The alert sounded again. She noticed a small green Eastpak bumbag left unattended on a chair at the far end of the shop. The table in front of it had a half-drunk coffee on it. Had the sound come from the bag? There didn’t seem to be anyone sitting there anymore.

  Perhaps, she theorised, if she stopped looking out for the texter, they would approach her, or reply. If they knew something about Ella’s death, they could be in danger too, and wary of being seen. She sipped her hot chocolate and turned back to face the window. There were lots of people sat at the tables and chairs outside. What if one of them had left the phone somewhere else in the café on purpose, to throw her off the scent? But if so, why would they come to the Starbucks at all?

  She waited a few more minutes, having to be strict with herself not to turn back around. Maybe I should try calling the phone... she thought. Just as she pulled her phone out to make the call, she jolted upright as a hand gently tapped her right shoulder. Nearly dropping her phone, she turned on her stool.

  Leo stood opposite her, a broad smile on his face, “I thought that was you!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “HI!” SHE MANAGED TO stutter out. She hadn’t seen him come in, but the surprise of seeing him pulled her from the murky thoughts of Ella’s death and the mystery texts. She realised she was pleased to see him – he was really the only friend she’d made since coming back to Oxford.

  “My dad told me about Tom – please give your mum my best wishes,” Leo said with an earnest half-smile.

  “Thank you,” she replied, unable to return the half-smile.

  “Would you like another drink? Or some cake?” He seemed sincere in his condolences, but he still had his signature smirk as he gestured towards the cake.

  “Yes, please, it has been the most surreal couple of days,” Paige said, “I would really like some cake,” she said, standing up to follow Leo to the counter, “But, I owe you a drink from last time - I’ll get these.”

  “Thank you, but given what you’ve been through, I think you can owe me for the time being,” Leo said, ordering some brownies. Paige didn’t argue, she was happy to accept his generosity, especially as she hadn’t received her first month’s payment from Eckland yet; her bank account was already looking a little sad.

  They brought their brownies over to an empty table, “Do you mind me asking what happened?” Leo said, somewhat more tentatively than he usually approached difficult subjects.

  “Rufus,” Paige said bluntly, her throat catching as she tried to elaborate more. She made herself trace her eyes over every inch of her brownie so that she didn’t have to meet Leo’s eyes. His sympathy was overwhelming, even if it was well-meaning.

  “Rufus...” Leo said, his breath halting for a moment. She looked up, somewhat surprised at how taken aback he was. Noticing her looking at him, he added, “Sorry, I just was expecting you to say it was an accident.”

  “Well, it was, I suppose,” Paige said, “They fought.”

  “They fought?” Leo said, surprise still tinging his voice.

  “Yes. Tom wouldn’t let Rufus talk to me, and they fought. Rufus pushed Tom and he hit his head,” Paige said, getting it out quickly and hoping Leo would move away from the subject.

  “I’m so sorry, that sounds awful,” Leo said, clearly sensing the desire to change subjects. He paused to take a bite of brownie and then added, “I hope my dad didn’t make a fuss about you having time off?”

  “No, he has been very understanding,” Paige said, “I have been enjoying working for him.”

  “That’s good to hear.” He paused again, words seemingly alluding him as she struggled to change the subject.

  “Yeah,” Paige added in a perfunctory reply.

  Leo thought for a moment and added, “You seem a good match. He’s been looking for someone for a while.”

  “Really?” Paige said, chewing her brownie and thinking over her next words. She ran back through Eckland’s weird remarks in her head, trying to summon any inkling that he had previously had help. He had never mentioned anyone, let alone named Ella as his research assistant.

  Although cautious of their new friendship, Paige realised she had to ask Leo about Ella – what if he had met her? She would find out once and for all if Eckland had been pretending not to know Ella. Doing her best to keep her tone casual, she said, “He was looking for a while?”

  “Yes,” Leo replied, taking another bite of his brownie, “after his last assistant left suddenly.” Paige’s heart started to pound again – was Leo talking about Ella?

  “He had an assistant before me?” Paige asked, still nonchalant.

  “Yes – a student of his. I only met her very briefly at a function – a book signing, I think,” Leo said, furrowing his brow as he tried to recall, “Ella? I think that was her name.”

  Paige didn’t want to seem overly interested and so just nodded, giving no clue that she knew who Ella was. She replied, “Did she work for him long?”

  “I’m really not sure,” Leo said, “I know she left suddenly, and dad wasn’t pleased about it.”

  “Really? Do you know why?” Paige said, unable to contain herself.

  She realised she had appeared too keen when Leo replied, “No, I don’t...” with a slightly curious look on his face, “Did dad say something to you about her?” He added, putting his brownie down on its plate, as if to give her his full attention.

  “No, actually...” Paige said, adding, slightly quieter, “Which is odd...”

  “Oh, not really,” Leo said, “Dad is a very ‘in the moment’ kind of person. He’d forget I existed if I stopped coming ‘round for dinner.” He said it with some humour, but Paige’s face darkened. Is that what happened to Ella? She thought, A troublesome employee, cast aside and then forgotten to the point that he doesn’t even remember her after she died?!

  That thought horrified her more than she thought it would. She had developed a connection with Eckland, even if not in the same way Jade said Ella had; his eccentricity was surprisingly charming, and he treated her ideas with respect. For the first time in her life, she felt valued in her job, as if she was doing something important.

  “Are you okay?” Leo asked, clearly noticing her face, “Worrying about Tom?” He offered the reason tentatively, but not unkindly.

  “Yes, sorry, I really should get back to the hospital,” she stood up to leave, “but thank you for the brownie, and the conversation.”

  “Anytime,” Leo said, digging in his pocket for something, “Look, here’s my number. If you ever feel like chatting,” he handed her a business card with a mobile number on it.

  “Thank you, I’m sure I will,” Paige replied, checking to make sure she had all of her things.

  “Is that your jacket on that window seat?” Leo asked, gesturing to the light blue denim jacket Paige had left there, “I think it was the one you were wearing in the pub the other night.”

  “Oh, thank you, you’re right,” she said, “I haven’t had a chance to go home and get more clothes.” She walked over and grabbed the jacket, “I hope to see you soon,” she added before turning to walk out.

  Leo smiled and gave a singular wave, “Wishing Tom a speedy recovery,” he said.

  Paige headed back down the road to the hospital, examining the business card Leo had given her with his number on. She smiled to herself and decided to add it to her contacts now. Filling in the details, she clicked “save” and put her phone back in her pocket.

  As she rounded the corner to the hospital,
her phone buzzed. Looking at the screen preview, she saw the unknown number again:

  07764321123 – unknown number

  17.36pm

  I’m glad Ella’s name got your attention. This is my final message. For your own sake, do not work with Professor Hugh Eckland anymore. Keep yourself and your mum safe.

  A friend x

  Paige sighed audibly, partly in fear, and partly in frustration. Whoever was sending these messages must be following her or tracking her electronically.

  This time the message mentioned her mum. She was filled with rage – who could possibly mean her mum harm? Was this a threat?

  With anger burning in her, she called a taxi. If she had any chance of figuring out who was sending the texts, who had attacked her and who had killed Ella, she needed to start at the Ecklands. They were the link in all of this.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE TAXI DROPPED HER outside Eckland’s house and with somewhat frenzied knocking, she managed to bring Arlene to the door in a matter of seconds.

  “Hugh’s out with a friend,” Arlene said, the same, vacant look in her eyes. Paige gave an inward sigh of relief – this would make her search a lot easier.

  “I’m sorry, Arlene, I left something here – can I please go up to the study?”

  “Of course, dear, is everything okay?” Arlene asked, but Paige barely paused in the door before heading up the stairs.

  Calling back down she said, “I won’t be long, sorry!”

  Paige shut the door to the study and heard Arlene’s footsteps recede into the kitchen. She moved through the room meticulously, hunting every shelf for a hint of Ella. If she had found one essay with Ella’s notes on, there must be more.

  The trunk and all of its contents looked strangely innocent given everything she’d learnt; every scrap of Eckland’s writings were still casually strewn in its walls, daring her to dig through it.

  And so, she did. Like a hungry wolf flushing out a rabbit, she moved through great mounds of papers, reading each one three times over for any hint of a clue. There were papers on Julius Caesar, notes from academic conferences, and more of Ella’s flowery hand annotating the margin of Eckland’s bleak poetry.

  She was very aware of the time – even Arlene, in her dazed state, might notice that she had been up here for more than ten minutes. She flicked through every sheet, until the entire trunk was empty.

  The light-coloured wood at the bottom mocked her; she hadn’t found a single thing. Paige thought back to the false top of the desk and returned to it. She must have missed something.

  Inside was the piece of paper with the lioness stamp, just as before. Then she realised there had been a second piece of paper, one she hadn’t looked at before in her haste to question Eckland.

  She pulled it out - a short poem, not dissimilar to Eckland’s other grandiose verses, but Ella’s marginal comments made her hold her breath.

  In the space to the right-hand side of Eckland’s messy scrawl of verse, she read:

  Why would you write this?

  What if someone saw?

  Paige’s heart leapt into her mouth, partly from once again reading the frantic thoughts of a ghost, and partly from fear. Each i was dotted with Ella’s unmistakable heart shape.

  She turned her attention to Eckland’s poem.

  Little girl turned lioness,

  Lower your guard, embrace my caress.

  ‘She was taught desire in the street,

  Not at the angel’s feet’.

  Herded by endless yearning,

  She took my hand, eyes burning.

  Young and beautiful in a stranger’s arms,

  Paying the rent with her open charms.

  Taught desire in the streets... Paige thought, recognising the quote. With a quick Google she found the poem Eckland was referencing – ‘The Trap’ by Vachel Lindsay. The lines alluded to prostitution.

  “She gave consent, you say?” Paige read Lindsay’s verse to herself. Trap... she remembered the first anonymous text she had received “Don’t read Trap”. Is Eckland involved in something like this? Why did the texter not want me to read this?

  She felt more confused than she had before. Was the poem about Ella? She had clearly been upset by it.

  Paige heard Arlene heading up the stairs and quickly shoved the piece of paper back in the compartment, popping it closed seconds before Arlene came in.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Arlene asked gently, offering the mug of tea she had in her hands. Arlene, although a terrific cook, made truly vile tea.

  “I did, thank you,” Paige said, holding up her sunglasses, hoping that Arlene wouldn’t have noticed that they had actually been on her head as she’d entered the house fifteen minutes earlier.

  “Oh, I’m glad,” Arlene beamed from ear to ear.

  They both jumped as a loud humming filled the room. It was Paige’s phone, vibrating loudly against the green leather of the desk as it rang with “Mum” showing on the screen. She slid it open and answered.

  “Paige...” her mum’s voice was thin and full of held back tears, “it’s Tom, dear. He...” she broke down sobbing, the crying growing fainter for a moment as if she had moved the phone away from her face.

  “Mum?” Paige said, her chest sinking with the weight of the news she hadn’t yet received.

  “Tom...” her mum’s voice murmured down the phone again, “He’s gone, love.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EDDIE WEBB PASSED HIS final days on Earth in a hospice with terminal lung cancer surrounded by the people he cared about most in the world. His mother, stoic but attentive as always, had been by his side every day of his illness, bringing him her famous shepherd’s pie and cheese scones almost daily. Paige, of course, visited after work as often as she could. She was busy in her new job, having just graduated from her degree months before. Eddie was glad he’d lived to see that.

  Sarah slept in the hospice with him, on the little airbed she’d brought from home so as not to disturb his sleep. His sister popped in from time to time, but they were never really close, and he couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see him like that.

  And Tom, his best friend of so many years, dropped in with a beer or a car magazine every opportunity he could. They would talk about old times and share their opinions on the football scores, passionately putting the world to rights as if they were holding court at the bar of their favourite pub.

  On his last day, all of these people gathered by his bedside, having been alerted by the hospice staff that he was weakening rapidly. They gave him distraction from his pain, telling him stories of the past, and offering him hope with updates of their lives. He took it all, gladly; he knew his family’s lives would go on after he was gone.

  That may not have been the first day Paige had met Tom, but it was the only time she had really noticed him. That’s not to say that she hadn’t liked him before, but in her mind he had always been “dad’s friend”, but as Tom was further inducted into their lives, she began to see him as the kind, funny person he was. In the last few weeks of her dad’s life, Tom had grown closer to all of them, offering Paige and her mum emotional support, bringing supplies and even helping out with bills.

  It wasn’t until that last day that she noticed him adopt her dad’s nickname for her. Her dad, weak and rarely speaking, had said, “Tell me a story, P.”

  She retold a memory – with detailed embellishments to add humour and sparkle - of a trip the three of them had taken to the London Eye. Whilst at the time, her dad’s fear of heights had seemed to put a dampener on the day, with years of hindsight it was a treasured memory and brought instant laughter to the room. Paige described his wobbly knees and the way he snapped at her mum whenever she commented on how far away the ground looked as they reached the top of the giant Ferris wheel.

  Paige loved that memory in particular because, now older and able to understand the day for what it was, she realised that her dad had only agreed to do somethi
ng he truly hated to make her and her mum happy. She held his hand tightly as she finished the story, sharing a smile with him as the others continued their laughter, swapping impressions of Eddie wobbling at the top of the ride.

  Paige could vividly remember the moment that Tom gently tapped her arm and added, “Lovely story, P.”

  That memory now swam at the surface of her mind as she sat gripping her mum’s hand at Tom’s funeral.

  It had been two weeks since Tom’s accident and Paige and her mum had mourned every moment since he had passed away. Paige hadn’t been able to bring herself to return to the Ecklands yet, forcing herself to forget her attack and Ella’s death. They felt weirdly distant now, like events in someone else’s life.

  They had found a local guitarist to play an acoustic version of Tom’s favourite song Jeff Buckley’s cover of “Hallelujah” as the coffin disappeared behind the curtain. Paige’s mum broke down into uncontrollable sobs, swaying against Paige as the song came to an end and the guests stood up to leave.

  Rufus had been arrested by the police for manslaughter. The police had reassured Paige’s mum that the “investigation was ongoing” but they had heard nothing further. Paige’s mum had stopped taking the detective’s calls – “It won’t bring Tom back,” she had said solemnly.

  With Paige not returning to the Ecklands, the anonymous texts seemed to have stopped. Paige was glad – she couldn’t cope with anything else now.

  The following few days, Paige threw herself into anything time-consuming around the house. She helped her mum tidy Tom’s things, deep-cleaned the kitchen, weeded in the garden, cooked the dinners.

  Two days after the funeral, she met with a potential buyer for Tom’s car. As she waited in the driveway, she unlocked the car and got into the passenger side, as she had done so many times before. She ran a finger over the stereo, remembering Tom’s passion for rock and the many trips they had taken before her dad passed away, storming down the motorway to The Rolling Stones or The Who. They had gone through his collection of CDs and vinyls that morning, unable to consider getting rid of a single one. They felt like parts of Tom more so than any of his clothing.