by steve higgs
Frowning, I said, ‘Yes. I need to see to my pets and sort myself out. I feel scuzzy.’
He started to duck back into his car. ‘Super. I’ll follow you. I’ll tell you all about it over breakfast.’
Before I could argue, he ducked back into his car to leave me staring at him through his windscreen. He winked at me.
When I didn’t move, he stuck his head out of his car again. ‘Come along, Felicity. It will take too long to explain it all now and I’m sure you want to get home.’
Not waiting for me to respond, he backed his car up and turned it around so it faced out toward the road again. Getting in my car while grinding my back teeth against each other, I resolved to find a way to make Mr Slater lose his interest in me. Yes, he kept saving me from various foes, but if I spent much more time in his company, I was going to get an ulcer.
Muttering under my breath, I slumped into my car, fired up the engine and led the way. My Mercedes SL500 is a nifty little thing, lightweight and flat to the road, it turns fast and takes off like a smacked cat when required. I put that to use, taking Vince on a countryside route where I promptly lost him behind the first tractor I could find.
Far slower in his big SUV, he didn’t have the acceleration to slingshot around it. You might think me ungrateful, but I laughed as I watched him disappear in my rear-view mirror.
Arriving home at what would be my usual time to get up, I was tired but wanted only to fall into my normal Friday routine – a swift shower, walk Buster, grab a quick breakfast, and head for work. The tenacious Mr Slater would undoubtedly turn up at my boutique later, but by then, and on my own turf, I might feel better equipped to deal with him.
I heard Buster woofing the moment my tyres crunched over the gravel and a twitch of the curtain showed me where Amber had just been.
What Buster had to say was not fit for repeating but did require a response when I got through the door.
‘I was not out mating all night,’ I insisted sternly.
Buster was barking and bouncing on the spot, but my statement stopped him.
Eyeing me quizzically, he asked, ‘Where were you then?’
Putting my bag down on the narrow console table just inside the door, and starting to shuck my coat, I replied, ‘I was locked in a jail cell, if you must know.’ Hanging the coat up, I took a pace to push the door shut.
‘Wait,’ said Buster, darting for the gap. ‘I need to go.’
He probably did, the poor thing. He missed his usual last-thing-before-bed excursion and had to have been holding it all night.
He shot through the door. Then just as I was going to close it to keep the cool air outside, he shoved his head back around the edge to look up at me.
‘When you go in the living room, just remember that you love me, okay?’
My eyes widened. ‘What did you do?’
He started to back out through the door again, adding, ‘Remember our love when you go in the kitchen too.’
Fearful for what destruction he might have wrought, I closed the door and went to see.
Amber sashayed out of the living room just as I got to it.
‘You will insist on letting him live in the house,’ she chided, basically reminding me that whatever I found was my fault.
Going into my living room, I couldn’t decide if my eyes should be wide to take it all in or peering through my fingers so I could absorb it just a piece at a time.
There was a lot of fluff. It could have been much worse. A casual inspection suggested one of my throw pillows had bought the farm in a spectacular way. I might be able to understand what he had to say, but I was never going to work out why he did the things he did. I guess when all is said and done, he is just a dog. A youngish one at that.
Tidying up the mess could wait. I went to see if the kitchen had fared worse.
Amber was on the kitchen counter, next to the cupboard that contained her food. ‘He refuses to use the litter tray, Felicity. Perhaps a kennel if you cannot get on board with the euthanasia idea?’
Over by the back door, was something I couldn’t leave for later. Not that I wanted to deal with it now either. Curling my lip, I went in search of rubber gloves, spray disinfectant, and toilet tissue.
It really wasn’t his fault; I was the one who didn’t come home. As for the litter tray, I couldn’t imagine what might happen to it if he were to attempt to use it. I thought it most likely he would put one paw on the edge and flip the contents across the room.
I didn’t dwell too long on that mental image.
With the flick of a finger, the coffee machine was pressed into service and I walked back through the house unbuttoning my blouse as I went. I was more than ready for a shower. My bedroom is first on the left next to the front door, convenient for letting Buster out into the garden late at night and first thing in the morning. He always sleeps next to my bed anyway.
Dropping my blouse into the hamper, I started to fiddle with my bra. I managed to dislocate my left shoulder a week ago and mundane tasks like taking off my bra were proving difficult still. Buster was wandering back past my window heading for the door so I wandered out of the bedroom to crack the front door open again.
‘Let yourself in,’ I called.
‘Sure thing,’ said Vince.
I screamed in terror at the unexpected voice and spun on the spot just as the catch on my bra came free.
Vince’s eyes went wide just as a grin spread across his face.
Buster popped his head between Vince’s legs. ‘I found Vince outside,’ he said helpfully.
Mortified yet again, I darted into my bedroom, holding my chest with both hands while shouting several unladylike things.
‘Shall I shut the door?’ Vince enquired conversationally.
‘Yes, please,’ I growled back. ‘Make sure you are on the outside first though.’
Far from achieving the desired effect, I heard the door shut but his chuckling was clearly coming from inside my cottage.
‘I think I can hear a coffee machine getting excited. ‘I’ll make us a cup each, shall I?’ he asked, then added. ‘Unless, you know, since you are already half naked and flashing the goods around …’
‘One more word, Vince Slater,’ I warned. ‘One more word and I will call the police.’
‘Be sure to ask for Chief Inspector Quinn,’ he sniggered at me. Seconds later, he was whistling a happy tune in my kitchen and I could hear him going through my cupboards in search of food. He was cooing to Amber and … well, let’s just say I was having fantasies about his head and my meat tenderiser.
I took a shower, locking the door and shifting the laundry hamper under the door handle so it wouldn’t open. By the time I came out, the house was filled with the glorious scent of coffee.
And bacon?
Why could I smell bacon?
Wanting to get dressed but too curious now to wait, I wrapped myself in a robe, stuffed my feet in slippers and went to find the unlovable rogue.
‘Your dog likes bacon, doesn’t he?’ Vince observed as I came into the room. He was leaning against the breakfast bar end of the kitchen’s central island. Next to his arm was a plate that was mostly crumbs but had the remaining corner of a toasted bacon sandwich to one side. Loose pieces of bacon were stacked on a separate side plate and one hung from his fingers while Buster danced on his back legs trying to get to it.
Vince dropped it. It fell into the black hole Buster called a mouth and was gone.
‘I made enough for you,’ Vince smiled at me. ‘Your coffee is good too,’ he let me know as he picked up his mug for a slurp.
Amber was on a different counter, not watching the display the dog was putting on as he begged for another piece of glistening meat. She was licking a paw and studying it but looked up to make eye contact with me.
‘This is the one you were mating with?’ she asked. ‘He gave me sardines. I actually … yes, I actually approve. He can move in.’
‘He is not moving in!’ I huffed.
Vince looked up. ‘I’m sorry, what? You want me to move in?’
I narrowed my eyes at the cat. Not that it had any effect.
Buster swallowed another piece of bacon and said, ‘Yeah. The cat and I agree for once. Do all the mating you like with this one. He’s great.’
I could feel a migraine coming.
The time to deal with my pets was later. First, I had to get the man with the pirate smile out of my house. ‘How did you find me?’
He popped the last of his bacon sandwich in his mouth before answering, chewing it still when he found some words. ‘I fitted a tracker to your car.’
I nearly choked.
That just made him laugh again. ‘Only kidding,’ he assured me.
I was going to have someone check my car later, believe me.
‘I looked up your home address. I mean, that’s using my initiative, that is. Tired and stuff, I figured you forgot I was following but I promised to tell you about John Ramsey and that’s what I came here to do.’
‘Really?’ I didn’t bother to hide my suspicion. ‘You’ll tell me what happened and then you’ll leave?’
I got a questioning look in response. ‘Of course. What kind of man do you think I am?’
‘A pirate in a good suit,’ I replied without needing to think.
It was his turn to choke, the bacon sandwich going down the wrong hole as he spluttered with laughter. He had to turn around to sort himself out, and when he turned back there were tears streaking down his cheeks. ‘A pirate in a good suit,’ he repeated my words. ‘Oh, my. That is a good one.’
Becoming increasingly irritated by my ‘guest’, I said, ‘Please tell me about John Ramsey, Mr Slater.’
‘His brakes didn’t fail. Someone messed with them,’ Vince replied taking another slurp of his coffee.
Suddenly wanting my own, I found one already poured and waiting when I looked.
‘Black, two sweeteners, right?’ Vince confirmed.
‘How do you know that?’ I narrowed my eyes at him.
‘I have people spying on you,’ he told me deadpan. This time I didn’t bite, and he rolled his eyes playfully. ‘You were drinking coffee at Loxton Hall last weekend. I get paid to be observant.’
‘Okay.’ I wasn’t entirely satisfied by his explanation. ‘I heard his brakes failed. They recorded his death as accidental. It’s why we were released, was it not? What makes you think this was murder after all?’
He put his coffee cup down and dabbed at his lips with a handkerchief before saying. ‘I have a couple of friends in the police. We scratch each other’s backs. John Ramsey’s brakes failed because someone had loosened the bleed nipple on the front left calliper. Apparently, it was open just enough for the brake fluid to drip out under pressure. Each time he used the brakes, his lost a little more fluid. When the reservoir emptied, no more brakes.’
I didn’t know what to make of this news. ‘How come the chief inspector let us go then?’
‘I guess because it is only conjecture. I am guessing his brakes were fiddled with. I’ve never heard of a bleed nipple coming undone by itself. Have you?’
I wasn’t sure what a bleed nipple was, and I didn’t like the shark-infested smile that teased his lips when he said the word ‘nipple’ though he managed to keep his eyes from looking down to where mine were hidden beneath the robe. He’d already seen far more of me than I ever intended.
‘So you think someone deliberately tampered with his car. Someone who knew exactly how much to open the bleed,’ I forced myself to say the word, ‘nipple.’
Vince tried but failed to push his grin away. He nodded though. ‘Unfortunately, there are a lot of people who have a high enough knowledge of car mechanics to be able to do that.’
I looked at the clock on my cooker and blew out a breath. ‘Right, so there is a homicidal mechanic out there and he killed John Ramsey. John tried to kill Derek Bleakwith, and there is someone at the Orion Print office trying to cover up the evidence of something they were doing.’ Remembering the data drive I looked up at Vince.
He knew what I was going to say. ‘The police confiscated it. The second they saw it had files and data on it from Orion Print, I knew I would struggle to justify having it in my possession. I told them I picked it up out of interest when we were looking for the person we heard calling for help.’
I skewed my lips to one side as I studied him. ‘How did you know to say that to the police? How did you know it would muddy the water enough to get you off?’
‘Experience, babe,’ the pirate’s grin returned.
My eyes were already narrowed. In fact, I’d been squinting at him for so long my face was starting to hurt.
‘How did you get the back door open? It wasn’t really unlocked was it?’
He bumped away from the counter with his hip. ‘That’s the sort of incriminating answer a man only reveals in bed.’
My jaw dropped open. He was so brazen!
‘It is time for you to leave, Mr Slater,’ I took a step back to give him easy access to my front door and pointed with my arm. ‘You came to tell me about John Ramsey, and you have done so. Now I need to get dressed and get to work.’
He cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘Surely we need to track the killer and clear your name? That woman … what’s her name?’
‘Primrose?’ I hazarded, not sure who he might be referring to.
‘Yes, her. You said she would cause you problems and try to scare off clients. We need to get ahead of that and solve this case. The chief inspector thinks you are behind what happened to John.’
That was exactly what Shane said.
Whatever the case, and whatever I chose to do, I was not going to be doing it with Vince Slater.
‘Thank you, Mr Slater. But I am a wedding planner, not a private eye. Feel free to do whatever snooping you fancy. I have a big wedding on Raven Island next weekend and a dozen other events in various stages of preparedness. I am much too busy to be poking my nose in anywhere else. I expect the police will figure this out for themselves and prove my innocence soon enough without me having to lift a finger.’
‘Final word?’ He offered me a chance to change my mind.
I pointed to my front door again. ‘Please leave, Mr Slater.’
He smiled and nodded. ‘No problem, Felicity. Whatever you say. I’m going to call this mission accomplished anyway.’
Confused, I asked, ‘Mission what? What are you saying now?’
He was backing away from me, heading for the door, and spread his arms as a show of innocence. ‘Well, the chaps offered me a little wager and I can honestly claim to have won.’ He waited for my confusion to deepen. ‘I bet them I would get to see you naked and have breakfast at your house.’
The coffee mug smashed into the door half a second after his big, stupid grin vanished behind it.
Bribing the Cat
I allowed myself a second to fume, glaring at the door and half hoping Vince would open it again for one final parting comment because I already had another missile ready in my right hand.
When I heard his car start and the crunch of gravel as he pulled away, I placed the apple I held ready back in my fruit bowl and crossed the kitchen to the coffee machine. I was operating on far less sleep than was usual and felt the caffeine was not only justified but necessary.
I made toast, deciding against the bacon largely because Vince had touched it.
Buster followed me. ‘Do you not want the bacon? Because if you are not planning to eat it … actually, even if you are planning to eat it, I think I would benefit enormously from the extra calories and protein.’
I shot him a look. ‘Have you been watching the fitness channel again?’
Amber stopped licking her paw for a moment to say, ‘He caught a special on muscle building and now thinks he can turn himself into a rottweiler if he eats the right food.’
‘I didn’t say rottweiler,’ snapped Buster. ‘But, yes, essentially it is time to up my gam
e. If I want to be a superhero night stalker dog, I need to put on muscle.’
I looked down at the floor from where Buster looked back up. There were two lines of drool hanging from either side of his mouth. One almost reached to the floor. He gave me a hopeful expression and an idea popped into my head.
I blinked a couple of times and let it go around inside my skull, but it was an idea with merit.
‘Amber,’ I started, swivelling to face her. She didn’t bother to look my way; I was nowhere near as interesting as her paw. ‘Would you be willing to do something for me if there was a piece of fresh fish in it for you?’
I was quite willing to admit that as a wedding planner, I had no business attempting to investigate the death of John Ramsey and whatever other crimes were associated with it. Poking my nose where it wasn’t wanted hadn’t done me much good so far. However, Buster and Amber, and in particular my unique relationship with them, might give me an advantage no one else would have.
Could I solve the crime with the help of my pets? It would put the chief inspector’s nose truly out of joint and maybe even wipe that shark-infested grin from Vince’s face.
I would be lying if I said the concept wasn’t tempting. It was tempting enough that I was already thinking about how I could employ my cat and dog.
When I looked back to see if Amber had even heard me, I found she was staring at me. Giving me her attention was a rarity unless she wanted something and that didn’t happen very often.
‘Don’t tease me, woman,’ she meowled in warning. ‘It’s not beyond me to seek revenge if promised gifts do not materialise.’
She’d never spoken like this before. More usually, it was all I could do to get here to even pay me attention. Had I just discovered the secret trick that would make her do as I ask?
‘What sort of fish would you like it to be?’ I asked.
The paw she’d been licking still hovered in the air an inch from her face. She placed it back on the counter, fixing me with a serious expression. ‘Mackerel. Lightly poached in milk with a bay leaf, the stock or liquor reserved for drinking separately.’
