The Peridale Cafe Cozy Box Set 2

by Agatha Frost

  “Forget her,” Jessie mumbled, dragging Julia away from the flowers. “What other people think of you is none of your business.”

  “That’s very wise, Jessie.”

  “Read it on a sticker on a bus once,” she said casually. “C’mon, Dolly and Dom might slip into a coma if we don’t go home soon.”

  As they walked up the village lane, Julia couldn’t shake the way the woman had looked at her. It didn’t matter that she had been released from questioning for the time being, she knew the news of her arrest at the murder scene would be spreading around the village like wildfire. It didn’t matter that she was innocent, the blame would be attached to her until the real culprit was discovered. Julia owed it to herself and Jessie to be the one to clear their names, no matter what it took.

  She unlocked the door of her cottage and walked inside, glad to be home. Mowgli trotted out from the kitchen and circled her feet to let her know she was late putting his breakfast down. She peeped her head into the sitting room, where Dolly and Dom were still fast asleep exactly as they had been when they had left them the night before.

  Jessie clapped her hands together, causing the twins to dart up, dribble on their cheeks, their blonde hair sticking up in every direction, and their eyes half-closed as though they hadn’t had any sleep at all.

  “What’s for breakfast?” they asked in unison as they squinted at Jessie and Julia, none the wiser to what had happened.

  Julia chuckled to herself and walked through to the kitchen. She fed Mowgli, made four peppermint and liquorice teas, and got to work making four full English breakfasts. She had been kidding herself that she was going to be able to sleep; she had far too much to think about.

  Chapter Five

  Mondays in Julia’s café were always the quietest. Julia almost decided not to open, especially considering what had happened over the weekend. It had been Jessie who had convinced her that she should open, and as it turned out, they ended up taking record sales for a Monday. She knew it was because people wanted to get a look at the woman who killed Anthony Kennedy, but she was surprised by how little she cared about that. The till rang out all day, and that’s all that mattered at the moment. Every extra penny prolonged her café’s lifespan.

  When she finally closed the café, she pulled the cottage pie she had prepared that morning out of the fridge, along with a strawberry pavlova she had managed to bake in one of the few quiet spells during the day.

  After sending Jessie home, Julia drove across the village to Anthony Kennedy’s cottage. She pulled up outside and yanked up the handbrake as she stared at his beautiful house. He had lived there for as long as Julia had known him, but it had undergone many transformations in that time. It was one of the bigger cottages in the village, with a beautifully presented garden in the front, and a large glass conservatory in the back. Grabbing the food from the back seat, she checked her reflection in the mirror, which looked considerably better after a good night of sleep and a nice hot shower. She could almost convince the world that everything was fine.

  Julia wasn’t sure how her visit was going to be received by Anthony’s wife and son. Despite not having done anything wrong, she knew gossiping was intertwined with Peridale’s DNA. Taking a deep breath, she unclipped the white gate and walked slowly down the garden path, hoping the rumour mill hadn’t reached this far out yet. Balancing the cottage pie and strawberry pavlova in one hand, she pressed the doorbell. It rang out through the house, and she was surprised when the door opened almost instantly, giving Julia no time to second-guess her visit.

  “Julia?” Rosemary Kennedy exclaimed, dressed as though she had just been about to go out. “What a surprise!”

  Julia was glad Rosemary didn’t immediately attack her, but she was a little unsettled with how put together the woman looked, considering her husband had died only the day before. Gone was the Happy Bean barista uniform, to be replaced with a well-fitting pair of black jeans, which hugged her figure beautifully. She had paired it with an orange blouse, which was tucked into the waist of her jeans, hanging over a little. Her lips were stained with red lipstick, and her shoulder-length grey hair was neatly curled and tucked behind her diamond-studded ears. She might have been a woman in her mid-sixties, but she looked effortlessly stylish.

  “I brought you a cottage pie,” Julia said, offering forward the dish. “And a pavlova. I didn’t think you’d want to be worrying about cooking today.”

  “Come in,” Rosemary said, stepping to the side to let Julia into the cottage. “That’s incredibly sweet of you. Come through to the kitchen.”

  Julia followed Rosemary down the impeccably decorated hallway to the glossy kitchen, which faced directly into the conservatory, which in turn looked over their beautiful garden, complete with a swimming pool. Julia had never seen so much natural light flooding into a house before, and yet it lacked an ounce of charm that the exterior would suggest it possessed.

  “I hope you don’t mind me showing up here,” Julia said as she pushed the food onto the counter. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.”

  “Oh, not at all!” Rosemary said with a small laugh. “I know you didn’t kill Anthony, my love.”

  The joviality of Rosemary’s laughter disturbed Julia, but she was glad she wasn’t placing the blame on her for suddenly becoming a widow.

  Rosemary made them two cups of tea, which she took through to the conservatory. The sun was high in the clear July sky and beating down on the glass, not that Julia could feel it. A small air conditioning unit hummed quietly in the corner, keeping the glass room nice and cool. They sat in two wicker bucket chairs and stared out at the garden as they silently hugged their tea.

  “How are you feeling?” Julia asked, breaking the awkward silence. “Stupid question, I know.”

  “Honestly?” Rosemary asked, inhaling deeply as she continued to look out at the garden. “I feel free.”

  Julia opened her mouth to speak, but she had no idea what to say. She stared at Rosemary, and free seemed like the perfect word to describe the content expression on her lightly make-up covered face. When Julia had seen Rosemary on Saturday ripping her apron off after denying her husband a kiss, she had looked like she had had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Julia’s eyes wandered down to her fingers. Just as she had suspected, she was missing her left index finger acrylic nail. What was left behind looked painful and coarse, as though it had been ripped clean off. The only time Julia had ever endured acrylic nails was when she had been Sue’s maid of honour. She had guilt-tripped Julia into believing she needed them to complete the wedding, so she reluctantly went along with it. The extensions had been so cumbersome and alien, she had felt completely incapacitated for the entire day. Not being used to them, she had banged them more than a couple of times and the pain was incomparable to anything she had ever experienced. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have one ripped off.

  “I suppose you know I was the one to find Anthony’s body,” Julia started, pausing to check Rosemary was even listening beneath her calm exterior. “Somebody planted a bottle of poison in my café, and they left a message there, pinning the murder on me.”

  “Arsenic poisoning,” Rosemary mumbled, her brows twitching, her expression still vacant. “That’s what the police are saying. They’re still running tests.”

  “Do you have any idea who would want to frame me for Anthony’s murder?” Julia asked, edging forward in her seat, her heart beating as she got straight to the point of her visit. “I know me and Anthony didn’t seem like the best of friends. He was trying to destroy my business after all, but I would never resort to that. I know he didn’t like me, but I knew him too long to truly hate him that much.”

  “You’re right,” Rosemary said, suddenly turning to face Julia. “He didn’t like you. He didn’t like anyone. All he liked was himself, and money. Look at that swimming pool. I can count on one hand how many times he used it, but he made sure to swindle as ma
ny people as he could to pay for it. I hope the next people who buy this place fill it with cement.”

  “You’re selling the cottage?”

  “Of course,” Rosemary said with a soft chuckle. “Just look at this place. It’s devoid of any personality. It’s him all over. Any personality this place had when we moved in, he stripped it away and replaced it with glass and metal.”

  Julia looked down at the white marble tiles, not wanting Rosemary to see how uncomfortable she looked. She was talking as though she had just divorced him, instead of what had really happened. Julia wondered if she was in denial. If she was, she couldn’t blame her. What unsettled Julia the most was how lucid and present she looked.

  “Will you stay in Peridale?” Julia asked.

  “Perhaps,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll move somewhere new. Somewhere where I can be somebody new.”

  Footsteps signalled the arrival of Gareth, their son. He walked into the conservatory as though he was about to say something but he bit his tongue when he saw Julia.

  “Oh,” he said, his cheeks burning red. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Gareth,” Julia said. “How are you feeling?”

  The teenager shrugged, and even though he looked a little less relieved than his mother, he didn’t look particularly distraught either. Julia suddenly remembered his presence at the protest meeting at the village hall, and wondered what could have led him to being there.

  “Dad’s business partner is outside,” Gareth said, looking past Julia to his mum. “He’s talking to that guy from the station.”

  “He’s early,” Rosemary said, grabbing a photo frame from the window ledge to check her reflection. “Thanks for the cottage pie, Julia. I’m eating out tonight, but I’m sure Gareth will enjoy it.”

  Gareth shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Rosemary sprung up like a woman half her age. Julia couldn’t be sure, but she was sure Rosemary looked like she was about to go on a date.

  Julia followed Rosemary down the hallway and back to the front door, feeling none the wiser as to who could have wanted to frame her for murder. She had been racking her brain all day in the café trying to think of people she had wronged, but she couldn’t think of any rivalry that would result in a murder charge. The only person she could think of who might have gone to those extremes was the man who was now lying on a slab in the morgue.

  Rosemary grabbed her handbag from the bannister, unclipped it, and pulled out a small bottle of perfume. After dousing herself in the sweet, floral scent, she checked that she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth in the hallway mirror, slid her feet into simple black heels, and opened the door.

  When Julia saw Barker standing at the bottom of the garden talking to another man, the wind knocked out of her sails, and the rug pulled from under her feet. She was aware that Rosemary was saying something to her, but she couldn’t hear a thing other than the intense beating of her heart. All she could do was stare, until Anthony’s business partner turned to face her, as though in slow motion. She hadn’t seen that smug smirk in so long, but she recognised it in an instant.

  “Jerrad, you’re early,” Rosemary said as she walked down the path. “Julia, are you coming?”

  “I thought I’d surprise you,” the man said with a leer as he pushed his suit jacket away to stuff his hands into his trouser pockets. “Hello, Julia. It’s been a while.”

  Julia swallowed and walked forward, her legs like jelly. She met Barker’s eyes, and he looked at her with a confused smile. She tried to smile back, but she wasn’t sure her lips moved beyond a shivery twitch.

  Jerrad was thinner and his hair looked different, but there was no denying who she was looking at. She realised she hadn’t imagined things when she thought she had seen him talking with Anthony outside the coffee shop on Saturday afternoon.

  “You know each other?” Rosemary asked, stopping in front of Julia and looking curiously down at her from her heel-elevated height. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

  “You could say that,” he said, his smirk growing wider and wider. “She’s my wife.”

  “Ex-wife,” Julia blurted out, her blank mind reacting on impulse rather than thought.

  “I think you need to speak to your lawyer, darlin’,” Jerrad said, barely able to contain his pleasure as he reached forward to unclip the gate for Rosemary. “I never signed the papers. We’re still married. Are you ready, Rosemary?”

  Julia watched as Rosemary followed Jerrad towards a flashy sports car she didn’t recognise. He opened the door for her, but he wasn’t able to take his dark stare off Julia. Looking as though she was just as flummoxed, Rosemary craned her neck to stare back at Julia as Jerrad practically forced her into the car. Before he climbed in himself, he sent her a final wink, which turned her entire body to stone. It wasn’t until the car sped away and vanished into the countryside that she could even bring herself to look at Barker.

  “I can explain,” she mumbled feebly.

  Barker looked as though he was going to speak, but no words left his lips. He pinched between his brows, exhaled heavily, and turned with a shake of his head, as though he couldn’t look at Julia; he looked disgusted. He pulled his keys from his pocket, jumped into his car, and sped in the opposite direction without a second look at Julia.

  She didn’t know what to say, or what to feel. Her past and her present had just collided so heavily, she couldn’t imagine how there could possibly be any future.

  “How long do I cook this thing for?” Gareth called through the still open front door.

  Julia didn’t realise she was crying until she wiped the tears away. She turned and walked back inside to help Gareth cook the cottage pie.

  Chapter Six

  “You silly girl,” Dot said as she looked over the paperwork in her hand. “You should have checked to make sure everything was final!”

  “I know,” Julia mumbled, unable to look at the letter her lawyer had sent to her.

  “Just because you signed the papers, it doesn’t mean you’re divorced,” Dot said as she tossed the paper onto her dining room table. “Didn’t your lawyer explain that to you?”

  “I know that now,” Julia said, trying not to get frustrated with her gran. “It’s not like I’ve been divorced before. Jerrad had been badgering me so much through my lawyer, I just thought he’d already signed his half. I dragged my heels for so long before signing them.”

  “When did you sign them?” Dot asked.

  “March,” Julia mumbled pathetically. “They were on my kitchen counter for months before I could even open them.”

  “It’s only July!” Dot cried. “Oh, Julia. You silly, silly girl. It needs to go before a judge before it’s official, and that’s only if you’ve both signed the agreement.” Dot was just echoing what the lawyer had told her on the phone the night before. “Eat your dinner. You can’t go hungry.”

  Julia looked down at the lamb chops and mash, but she wasn’t hungry. She had been pushing the food around the plate, as had Sue, who looked as upset as Julia at everything that had happened. Julia tried to smile at her sister, to reassure her that she was fine, but she knew her eyes betrayed her.

  “I can hit him,” Jessie remarked suddenly after pushing her plate away. “Or even better, I’ll get Billy to do it.”

  “What good will that do?” Sue asked with a shake of her head as her hands rested on her bump. “Violence doesn’t solve anything.”

  “It will make me feel better,” Jessie mumbled. “And a black eye might make Julia feel better.”

  Julia wasn’t sure what would make her feel better. She picked up her phone and called Barker for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It had been an hour since his phone had stopped ringing, now going straight through to his voicemail. Julia had tried to leave a message more than once, but she knew nothing she could say would fix the mess she had caused.

  “There’s still a murderer out there,” Dot said softly, reaching out to touch Julia’s hand
. “That should keep your mind off things.”

  “Is that supposed to cheer her up?” Sue asked with a laugh. “Half of the village think Julia did it, and the other half think Jessie did it, and the rest think both of them did it together.”

  “You can’t have more than two halves,” Jessie corrected her with a roll of her eyes. “That baby has pickled your already tiny brain.”

  Sue sat up in her chair, clearly offended. Julia let out a small laugh. It was the first time she had felt an emotion all day that wasn’t dread. Sue dropped her stern expression and joined in the laughing.

  “Leave my little lime out of things,” Sue said with a rub of her stomach.

  “I don’t like limes,” Dot mumbled thoughtfully. “Lemons, on the other hand, they’re a real fruit. They taste delicious and are great for polishing silverware.”

  “They taste the same,” Jessie fired across the table. “Both sour.”

  A heated debate about the difference between lemons and limes started across the table, but Julia had already tuned out. She was glad they were talking about something other than her divorce, or lack of one. She picked up the letter and read over the legal jargon that her lawyer had sent special delivery overnight, just confirming what he had told her on the phone.

  When the debate died down, neither side having won, Julia helped Dot clear away the dishes, while Sue and Jessie went through to the sitting room where the café’s leftover cakes were waiting for them.

  “I think Rosemary is dating Jerrad,” Julia thought aloud as she scraped her dinner into the bin. “She’s twenty years older than him.”

  “Men are fickle,” Dot replied as she filled the sink with water and washing up liquid. “One minute they want someone younger because they feel old, and then they want someone older because they realise twenty-year-old girls have empty heads and nothing in common. What did Rosemary have to say for herself?”

  “Nothing much,” Julia said as she closed the bin and placed her plate on the pile of others. “She didn’t seem to care that her husband was dead. If she had suspected me of actually killing him, I’m sure she would have thanked me.”