To Love and to Perish

by steve higgs

  ‘Quick, Auntie! Leg it!’

  How did my life get to this point? Barefoot, wearing an oversize rainmac and winded from falling on top of Buster, I nevertheless did as suggested and ran for it.

  ‘I could have taken him out,’ growled Buster. ‘Adventure Dog needs to express his dark nature.’ He stopped at the back bedroom door to bark at it.

  ‘What’s he saying?’ asked Mindy, holding the door shut.

  I ran down the stairs, tugging at Buster’s lead to make him follow me, but managed to answer her question, ‘Nothing sensible.’

  With another, more determined yank on his lead, I got the daft dog to follow me. Once I was near the bottom of the stairs, Mindy started to follow. Less than half my age with legs several inches longer, she caught me in seconds.

  Also, I went down the drive to the pavement before turning left to run along the road. Mindy cut a diagonal across the garden and flipped over the wall at the front in a kind of sideways somersault which landed her on her feet facing the right way and somehow already running.

  I risked a glance back at the house but of the man there was no sign. Not yet at least.

  ‘See, Auntie!’ yelled Mindy. She was about to get to her car, the lights on it flashing as she operated the central locking, but her right arm was pointing across the street. Fifty yards back was a black BMW.

  Maybe it was the same one. Maybe it wasn’t. I wasn’t going to hang around to find out. Mindy was in her seat and had the engine started before I got to the car. Buster had me running faster than my legs wanted to go and bits of gravel on the pavement were biting into the delicate soft soles of my feet.

  I didn’t try to reel him in though, I egged him on instead. At the car, I ripped the door open and dived in. Feeling like I had the devil himself chasing me, I wasn’t going to fiddle around getting Buster’s harness attached. He piled in on top of me and with a yank of the door to get it closed, Mindy was burning rubber.

  She didn’t pick a straight line though. She stomped on the accelerator and spun her steering wheel so the back end got thrown out. My face hit the passenger’s window and stuck there as centrifugal force made it feel ten times heavier than normal.

  Abruptly, we were facing the other way and Mindy’s car fishtailed as she powered it down the street. I thought we were going to get away, but no sooner were we moving than we were stopping again.

  Not yet wearing my seatbelt, I got thrown forward in my seat. Fortunately, with Buster on my lap – squashing me with his bulk – I merely bounced off him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I begged to know as I righted myself and fumbled for the seatbelt.

  Mindy was opening her door, but paused to explain, ‘Making sure he doesn’t follow us.’ With a flick of her hand, a butterfly knife shot out of its handle, the blade rotating around to face outwards.

  She was parked right next to the black BMW and before I could question how certain she was it belonged to the man who’d been following us, she hung out of her door and thrust the blade through the sidewall of a tyre.

  An outrushing of air accompanied the sight of the black car leaning awkwardly to one side as its front right tyre deflated. Then, with another flick of her wrist, the blade went back into the handle of the knife and her car took off like a tiger with its tail on fire once more.

  Mindy cackled in delight. ‘This is so much better than planning weddings, Auntie. We should do this all the time.’

  I doubted I could survive a week of this, and as I sunk into my seat and held onto Buster, the sick feeling returned. With my eyes closed against the horror my brain had just delivered, I said, ‘Mindy, my clothes are still in John’s house.’

  Come and Get Us!

  My pulse returned to a more normal rate a minute or so later. Mindy was driving at a sensible speed, largely at my insistence, but also because I played along with her desire to be a spy or a sleuth or something and convinced her we needed to be invisible.

  My boots, coat, and skirt were inside John Ramsey’s house – was that a problem? Probably. If the police found them, they could do a DNA test and prove they were my clothes. That I felt sure of. If the chief inspector was looking for a way to even the score with me, I was making it easy for him.

  I still felt sick from the worry of it.

  ‘Where to now, Auntie?’ Mindy asked. Before I could answer, she thought of something else to ask me. ‘You were looking for Amber earlier at the print shop, weren’t you?’

  She was bright enough to have put it together. I nodded. ‘I dropped her off first thing this morning so she could spy on them and let me know what was going on there.’

  Mindy gasped with excitement. ‘Oh, my goodness! That is so clever. You’ve got a spy cat!’

  ‘And an Adventure Dog!’ barked Buster.

  Mindy gasped, ‘We need to go back and find out what she knows.’ My niece was completely overawed by her day.

  I sighed, utterly defeated by my morning. ‘I think we need to collect her and go to my house. I need to get a shower and put on some of my own clothes. After that, I need to go back to the boutique and stop pretending to be a private investigator. I’m a wedding planner and I should stick to what I know.’

  Mindy looked heartbroken. ‘But Auntie this has been so much fun. I thought we needed to solve the case so we could clear your name and get one over on the chief inspector and that man you don’t like.’

  ‘Vince,’ I reminded her of his name. ‘That was the plan,’ I admitted. ‘It just wasn’t a very clever one. I need to stick to what I am good at. All this snooping around is going to give me a heart attack.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No.’ I put hard emphasis on the word. ‘Please take me home, Mindy. I will get my car and meet you at the Boutique. I can arrange for the Escort to be collected from Aylesford and will find Amber. Justin will have work for you.’

  Mindy bit her lip, wanting to argue but knowing she shouldn’t.

  My phone rang, interrupting any chance she had to argue further.

  I didn’t recognise the number, so when I answered it, I said, ‘Felicity Philips, professional wedding planner to the stars. How may I help you?’ I flicked the speaker button so Mindy could learn from me as I spoke with a client.

  I got a beat of silence from the other end before a familiar voice said, ‘Mrs Philips.’

  A ball of fear filled my core instantly. The chief inspector was calling, and his voice bore a tone that made him sound like a snake talking to a mouse.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, but my voice caught, and the response came out as a squeak.

  ‘I have an officer at the house of John Ramsey in Godmersham,’ I closed my eyes and prayed. ‘He reports that he was assaulted by a middle-aged, petite lady. She had black hair and was accompanied by a tan and white bulldog and a young lady wearing nothing on her lower half.’ Mindy blushed. ‘He further reports that his attackers first broke into a house and he was pursuing them in the course of his duty when he was set upon.’ God wasn’t answering my prayers today, it seemed. ‘Would you happen to know anything about that, Mrs Philips?’ he asked.

  I remained silent. Not because I wanted to avoid saying anything that might incriminate me, but because I just couldn’t make my tongue work.

  Chief Inspector Quinn said, ‘I shall take your silence as a confession.’

  ‘No,’ I blurted. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’

  ‘Were you in John Ramsey’s house?’ the chief inspector snapped, his voice sharp and demanding. When I didn’t answer straight away, he said, ‘Some clothing was found on the premises, Mrs Philips. Can I ask what size you are?’

  ‘No, you most certainly cannot,’ I replied indignantly.

  ‘Then I shall guess that it is your clothing. My officer reports that the clothing is covered in food waste, which explains, I suppose, why you took it off. Why were you in John Ramsey’s house, Mrs Philips? Are you trying to destroy evidence?’

  ‘What? No! I haven’t done anything wr
ong, Chief Inspector. I was only at the house to find something that would show you what is really going on here. If you didn’t think I was responsible for John’s death, I would be in my boutique right now arranging weddings. Instead, I’m trying to solve a crime you think I committed.’

  With irritating calm, especially given how fast and panicked I was talking, he said, ‘Mrs Philips, in the last twenty-four hours, two business partners of yours have suffered terrible accidents and I can place you in the vicinity of both men immediately before they met their fates. You have broken into two properties that I know of and you are now guilty of assaulting a police officer. I believe you are now trying to bury what evidence there might be to tie you to the crimes. What will Derek Bleakwith reveal when he regains consciousness?’

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My brain was going all swirly and I might have fallen had I not already been sitting. I managed to stammer a reply, ‘That I had nothing to do with his fall, Chief Inspector. That is what he will say. I didn’t tamper with John’s car either. I wouldn’t know how.’

  We heard a snort of amusement from the man at the other end of the phone. ‘Oh, but I think you do, Mrs Philips. Your husband was an accomplished mechanic as I understand it. The officers I have at your house now report there to be a garage full of tools. Am I to believe that in decades of marriage you never once helped your husband tinker with his cars? I’m afraid, Mrs Philips, that I am a very good police officer. Criminals do not escape me, even when they look as unassuming and innocent as you. Please tell me where you are so I can have my officers come to you. Please do not make me chase you, Mrs Philips. It will go so much easier if you surrender willingly.’

  I could barely breathe. My vision had sparkly lights dancing in it. He wanted to arrest me again and now he had to believe he had proper evidence. Of course, he could just arrest me for the assault on the man in John’s house. It was Mindy who hit him, but I wasn’t going to roll on her.

  Roll on her! Listen to me. I even sound like a criminal. How long before I am trying to make a shank?

  A snort of fear-induced laughter escaped my lips, making me sound a little mad. I wanted to go home, but I couldn’t. I wanted to return to work and have all this go away, but there was no option to do that either.

  ‘I’m waiting,’ Chief Inspector Quinn prompted, now sounding impatient.

  I was going to have to turn myself in and pray Shane could prove I was innocent. What would that do for my reputation though? Primrose would swoop on all my customers the second she found out and I could kiss goodbye any hope of snagging the royal wedding. It felt like everything I had worked for was being crushed around me and there was nothing I could do to stop it happening. Even if I were found innocent, I would be in jail for a period first. Isn’t that how it works?

  ‘Mrs Philips,’ the chief inspector’s voice broke through the numbing fear now enveloping me. ‘I grow tired of this conversation. You will surrender yourself, or I will send the full force at my command to find you.’

  Opening my mouth, though it felt dry and parched, I was about to say I would come to the station when Mindy grabbed the phone from my hand.

  ‘Come and get us, copper!’ she sneered and then thumbed the red button to end the call.

  Now staring at my niece in horror, I gasped, ‘What did you just do!’

  Mindy shrugged. ‘Sounds to me like there is only one way out of this, Auntie. We need to solve the case. You said there was a man in the offices last night and he was talking about destroying evidence. There’s clearly something going on there. We just need to figure out what it is before the police catch up with us.’

  ‘But I don’t have the first idea what is going on, Mindy!’ I pointed out a rather large flaw in her plan.

  ‘Yet, Auntie. You don’t know yet. We found that cream at John’s house. That sounds like a clue to me. Why don’t we speak to the doctor who was treating Derek and see what he has to say? I bet if we look under enough rocks, we will find the person responsible for killing John and then the police will have to let you go.’

  ‘But John might have been the victim of poor car maintenance!’ I blurted. ‘I’m only guessing he was murdered.’ A few hours ago, I’d been convinced there was a big conspiracy to uncover. Now I worried the whole thing was in my head. My suspicions were all based upon overhearing one man talking about destroying evidence. He might have been wiping away evidence that he’d been watching dirty videos on the work computer for all I knew.

  I was so stupid.

  However, I also had little choice. If there was foul play at foot, if I could prove John had a reason to push Derek off his balcony, then maybe I could muddy the water enough to make the chief inspector think twice about locking me up.

  ‘What about the assault charge?’ I asked.

  Mindy shrugged like it was nothing. ‘That was me, not you. Besides, dad will get me off.’

  That was it then. The pool of people to look at was a small one: people working at Orion Print, the Bleakwiths … that was all I could come up with. I added Dr Kimble as Mindy suggested and with nowhere else to go, I asked my niece to head for the local practice in Meopham where Derek would have gone.

  Add Theft to the List

  Convinced I needed at least some shoes to put on my feet, we stopped first at a charity shop in the small parade of stores that line the main road through Vigo.

  Mindy tried calling her dad on the way there, but he was in court and could not be reached. She left him a message in which she begged that he call back as soon as he could. We were going to need his help before the day was through.

  Two ladies in their seventies were chatting behind the counter of the shop. They each had mugs of tea, steam slowly rising from them. I was instantly jealous and suddenly hungry. Noon had been and gone which made breakfast a long time in the past. My stomach gave a rumble as if on cue.

  ‘Where do you keep your shoes?’ I asked of the ladies behind the counter. They each had silver hair with no trace of their original colour left behind. They wore light green tabards to protect their clothing, which consisted of jeans with a shirt and a sweater and they both looked irritated to have had their conversation interrupted.

  The one on the left pointed an arm. ‘At the back in the corner.’ It was a curt reply intended to make me go away.

  That was what I did, finding three shelves of shoes arranged in pairs with an elastic band holding the left and right together. Men’s, women’s, and children’s were all jumbled in together, but I found a pair that would fit me quickly enough. They were a size too big and were cheap knock-off running shoes. They were better than what I had though which was nothing.

  Behind me at the counter, one of the ladies was sniffing the air. ‘Here, Vera, what’s that awful smell?’

  My cheeks flushed. I could no longer smell it and had managed to convince myself the scent of John’s kitchen waste had faded now that I was no longer wearing the clothes and boots it had mostly stuck too. Clearly not though, for now I was stinking out their store.

  Vera wrinkled her nose and nudged her friend, ‘It’ll be that poor homeless woman, Violet,’ she said with a nod in my direction. They thought I couldn’t see them, but did they also think I was deaf?

  ‘Look at that coat she’s wearing,’ commented Violet. ‘Maybe the last owner died in it and that’s what we are smelling.’ Somehow that comment was funny to them as they both burst into a fit of giggles.

  Ignoring them and their childish behaviour, I tucked the shoes under my arm and searched through the rack of ladies’ clothes until I found something I could wear. Then I went back and switched out the shoes for ones that matched.

  ‘Do you have a changing room?’ I called out while looking around.

  ‘Yes, love,’ sniggered Violet. ‘It’s at the back next to the champagne bar.’

  Huffing wearily to myself, I bit down my desire to respond and simply stripped where I stood. The clothing rack had ladies’ designer label jeans. Too
big, but not desperately so, they went on and tied around my waist with a belt. The shoes I found were also a size too big, but they were an elegant brown ankle boot that I might even have bought new had I found them in a store. I ditched the rainmac, snagged a three-quarter length red leather jacket from a hanger, and went to the counter.

  ‘How much do I owe you, please?’ I kept my tone polite.

  ‘That’ll be two pounds, love,’ said Vera, her nose twitching as I brought the stench closer to her nostrils.

  I opened my purse and took out a twenty.

  Both women eye me suspiciously. ‘Did you rob someone?’ asked Violet. ‘Whose purse is this?’

  ‘It’s mine,’ I assured them, digging a finger in to slide out my driving license.

  Both women peered at it. Vera read my name, ‘Felicity Philips.’ She looked at Violet, the two women staring at each other. ‘Where do I know that name from?’ she asked.

  Violet looked back at me. ‘Yeah. I know your name too. What’s going on?’ They were looking at me with accusing eyes. Enough so that I took an involuntary step backwards.

  Vera clicked her fingers and gasped. ‘The radio!’ she blurted. ‘They said her name on the radio. The police are after her. Quick Violet! Get the bat!’

  Before my disbelieving eyes, Violet, a grey-haired lady nearing eighty, hefted a cricket bat from under the counter and glared at me with malice.

  ‘Is there a reward?’ she asked. I wasn’t sure if she was asking me or Vera and I wasn’t hanging around to find out.

  ‘Hey!’ shouted Vera as I ran for the door, the money still clutched in my hand. ‘Hey, thief!’

  Bursting out of the charity shop’s door and onto the pavement outside, I was already running. I felt like a criminal and had just been identified as a woman on the run. Now I was adding theft to my list of crimes. I might solve this case, clear my name, and still go to jail for the crimes I’d committed to prove my innocence.

  ‘Mindy!’ I yelled. She was waiting in the car with Buster, probably having a conversation with him and trying to hear his thoughts the way I did. ‘Mindy!’