by Agatha Frost
“They’re definitely in on it!” Greta proclaimed, tapping Claire and pointing at Em. “Tell her what you overheard at the B&B.”
“Technically, Amelia overheard it,” she said, glancing around the empty shop. “From the sounds of it, Joey has done something, and it was bad enough to have Agnes and Jeanie arguing. Agnes slapped Jeanie across the face. Her cheek was red raw.”
“Poor Jeanie!”
“I asked her about Joey,” she continued. “She pretended like she didn’t even know him.”
“That’s a load of toffee!” Greta laughed. “Jeanie was still there when Joey joined the club. I don’t think Jeanie stayed long after me, but Joey showed up the second week after Nick took over. That’s the time I stopped going.”
“I thought Joey and Nick hated each other.”
“Nick never hated anyone,” Em said with a sideways smile. “When it came to money, he took advantage, but he always tried to pay his debts in the end. He wasn’t malicious. Joey hated Nick, but I know Nick never resented him. I suspect he even thought Joey was the better option for Gwyneth, but she couldn’t seem to keep away.”
“Women like her always go for the bad boys,” Greta said. “The question is, did Joey finally want Gwyneth all to himself? Could he have killed Nick? Is that what he did?”
“I don’t think Joey would be capable,” Em said, though her voice wavered with uncertainty.
“No offence, love,” Greta said, tapping Em on the arm, “but my son used to trap spiders under glasses rather than killing them, and now he’s in prison for murdering two human beings. He let his monster in. You’re old enough to know we all have one. We’re all only one mistake away from ruining our lives.”
Claire’s ears pricked up at the words alarmingly like the ones she’d heard from her uncle. Once Em left to get to her first yoga session of the day, Claire turned to her gran and raised her eyebrows.
“You visited him too. He told me the exact same line about letting the monster in.”
“He didn’t say it to me, dear,” Greta said, rising to her feet, “I said it to him. I couldn’t not visit my son. No matter what he’s done.”
“He never mentioned it.”
“I asked him not to.” Greta smiled wryly before plodding off to the door with Spud at her heels. “I knew you’d go eventually, I was just waiting for you to pluck up the courage to read his letters.”
“You knew about them?”
“Your father keeps no secrets from me,” she said, pausing at the door. “Not these days. I make sure of it. I let one son slip through my fingers, I won’t lose another. Just know it’s been eating him up as much as you think it has, and the sooner you’re both honest with each other, the better. Talk to him, Claire. I won’t put up with this for much longer.”
Feeling suitably told off, Claire felt a fool for believing the letters were as secret as she had assumed. It brought her some comfort to know her father had confided in his mother, at least. Still, it didn’t make his reason behind keeping them so secret any more comfortable to face, especially now each knew the other was hiding something.
After Sally dropped by between property viewings to pick up the keys to the cottage, Ryan came around with the promised chippy lunch.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said as they picked at the salt and vinegar soaked chips during the lunchtime lull. “I’m not using the flat above this place yet. It’s basically sitting empty until I can gather the strength to attack building all that furniture. If we got the bed up tonight, you’d have somewhere to sleep that’s a little more private, at least.”
“It’s your flat, Claire,” he said, his pale cheeks blushing red. “You’ve already done enough.”
“And yet I can do more. I’m not taking no for an answer, mate. My parents can put up with me until you find the perfect house. You have two kids, and I have two cats. It’s hardly fair, is it?”
“But it’s your dream.”
“This is my dream.” She motioned around the shop. “The flat was always a bonus. Gives me an excuse to put off ironing my own clothes for a little while longer. Besides, it’s temporary. Sally was in earlier, and I asked her to make finding you the perfect place in your price range her top priority. If anyone can, it’s her.”
“Thanks, mate.” He reached across the counter and rested his hand on hers. “It’s . . . it’s nice to know you have my back.”
Ryan stayed for the duration of his lunch break, and by the time he left, the shop was already filling up again. By two, Claire had experienced her busiest rush since opening day, and by closing at five, she felt like she’d finally put her first real day running the shop on her own behind her.
She’d also managed to write down everything she knew about Nick and the people surrounding him. Each thread either went back to money or Gwyneth, but neither tangent felt like it was painting a full picture.
As Claire was locking up the shop, Joey hurried past. He wore another ill-fitting suit, this time with a bright yellow shirt and shocking pink tie. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, Claire caught up with him before he reached Lilac Gifts.
“Can I have a word?” Claire said, half-jogging to keep up with his pace.
“I’m busy.”
“It’ll only take a minute.”
“If you want to speak to Gwyneth, you can—”
“It’s actually you that I want to speak to.”
Claire stepped around Joey before he reached the door to Gwyneth’s shop. He glared down at her, tossing back his lank combover with a lazy throw of his head. Claire hadn’t prepared questions for him, but that hardly mattered. Looking into his eyes, she knew he wouldn’t answer a single one.
Instead, she reached for a different tactic.
“I know what you did,” she said firmly, narrowing her eyes at him. “I know.”
The lawyer’s firm demeanour melted, and as the veneer slipped away, someone emerged who better matched the version Em talked about from her school days. His eyebrows tilted and bottom lip wobbled as he searched Claire’s eyes. The words seemed jammed in his throat, but before any came, he pushed past her into the shop.
In calling his bluff, Claire had got a reaction more than anything she’d bargained for. She’d expected the shock, but not to see such horror in his eyes.
It was familiar.
She’d seen a glimmer of the same in Jeanie’s eyes the previous night.
She’d seen the look in Uncle Pat’s eyes, too, right after she’d accused him of murder.
“Claire?” DI Ramsbottom called from behind as he clambered out of his tiny red car. “What a small world. I’ve just come from your house, and here you are, outside my niece’s shop as I’m on my way to see her!”
“Before you do,” Claire said quietly, “how about a slice of cake at Marley’s? My treat.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A round the corner in Marley’s Café, Claire watched DI Ramsbottom devour his slice of carrot cake in mere seconds. She pushed hers towards him, and he accepted it with wriggly fingers, proclaiming he hadn’t had a chance to eat since lunch. Neither had Claire, but the unsettling look in Joey’s eyes had left her without an appetite.
“So, let me get this straight,” Ramsbottom said as he crammed in a mouthful of her cake. “You think Joseph has done something bad – but you don’t know what – based on the evidence of strange looks and the testimony of a nine-year-old girl? And it’s all connected to some casino being run in a cellar? It’s hardly going to hold up in court, is it?”
“I know that,” Claire said, a little too curtly. “That’s why we’re in the local café and not at the station. I have nothing concrete to go on, but it’s been days since Nick’s death, and what else do you have to work with?”
The door opened. A group of teenagers wearing unfamiliar school uniforms strolled in and took a table in the middle of the empty café, providing a natural buffer between Claire’s table and the counter. While Marley walked over to take their orders, Eugen
e, his husband, stood on tiptoes, not even trying to hide that he’d been listening to every word of Claire’s theory.
“To be fair to us, we only launched a murder case yesterday,” Ramsbottom mumbled through the last bite of cake, sending tiny orange pieces flying. “We thought Nick’s case was as good as solved. A simple suicide! Well, not simple, but you know what I mean. Cut and dried.” He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin before scrunching it onto the double-stacked empty plates. “Now the pathologist is saying he was strangled, and it’s got us on the back foot. But you think you’re on the right one with this Joey theory?”
Claire sipped her coffee, unsure if she was on any foot at all. Strange looks and the statement of a nine-year-old weren’t much. Instead of pulling on the right thread, it was like the jumper had entirely unravelled, leaving her to put it back together with fingers covered in glue.
“I learned all of this by accident,” Claire said quietly, glad the teenagers were making a suitable amount of noise with their rising chatter and jeering. “I saw the slap mark on Jeanie’s face. I saw the look in her eyes when I brought up Joey. I saw the look in his eyes when I called his bluff.” She paused to sip her coffee. Even the memory of Joey’s expression still made her uneasy. “They’re all members of the same little casino, and something’s going on.”
“I admit,” he said with a slightly scrunched nose, “I did know about that. Gwyneth tried to get me involved. Poor lass didn’t realise it was technically illegal, so I declined and told her I’d look the other way. She said they were playing for a pound or two. Nothing major.”
“From the sounds of it, Nick had a serious gambling issue,” she confessed. “He was in the bookies the day before he died, gambling away thousands he borrowed from his brother.”
“Another suspect!” Ramsbottom pulled his notepad and pen from his pocket and started scribbling. “That’s the fella from the taxi rank, isn’t it?”
“Ste,” she confirmed before adding, “He gave me the details about the casino. He only went to one meeting, and he didn’t seem to know what was going on.”
“Could be lying?” he suggested, lowering the pad briefly. “Throwing you off the scent?”
“Maybe.”
“And if his brother borrowed money off him?” Ramsbottom added a few more notes. “The perfect motive.”
“I suppose,” she said, frowning. “But it’s Joey you need to be finding out about first. Everything seems to be swirling around this casino club Nick was running. Joey was part of it, and so was your niece. Something is going on there, and it’s a start, Detective.”
“I’ve never trusted Joey, to tell you the truth.” He scratched at his artificially shiny hair. “Slimy sort of fella and I don’t trust lawyers at the best of times. I’ve seen guilty people wriggle out of serious charges with the right lawyer. He’s never been right for Gwyn. Too possessive. There’s a reason you don’t stay with who you courted in school. I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed Nick to finally get my niece all to himself, and that’s before taking into account everything you’ve told me about their little underground gambling ring.” He paused, biting into his lip. “I hope my Gwyneth isn’t in any trouble.”
“It’s just a hunch.” Claire sipped her coffee, cleared her throat, and added in a sugary voice, “Everyone knows you’re the best DI around. If anyone can figure it out, it’s you.”
At the counter, Eugene choked on his tea before letting out a booming cough. Marley tutted loudly as he turned the television up to give them more privacy from listening ears. Claire smiled gratefully.
“People say that?” he asked in a low voice, leaning in. “The best?”
“The best,” she lied.
“Hmmm.” Ramsbottom nodded, visibly inflating with pride in front of her. “Maybe I should start with the B&B sisters? Find out what they know about what Joey’s allegedly done?”
“That’s where I’d start,” she agreed. “I’d be there right now if I thought either of them would talk to me. Agnes has had it in for me since I dared to change the status quo of the tearoom, and Jeanie seems too embarrassed by what I walked in on to ever talk to me again.”
“Sometimes a little official pressure loosens tongues,” he said, patting his jacket pocket – she imagined his badge must be hidden in there. “Not your uncle’s tongue, mind. Went to see him today to put the graffiti case to rest, and I couldn’t get him to crack. He’s a good actor, I’ll give him that. Said you’d visited?”
“I suppose I didn’t tell him to keep it a secret,” she said, looking through the window to Greta’s cottage at the bottom of the street. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was him after all.”
“You don’t?” Ramsbottom arched a brow and it vanished under the floppy front of his toupee. “But the video? The spray paint?”
“It could have been a can of deodorant,” she said, pausing to wonder how she could say she’d seen inside the bag without confessing to being in the cottage for much of the previous night. “Maybe have the video looked at?”
He scribbled down another line of notes. When he was done, he stabbed the pen on the page one last time before flipping his notebook shut and putting it away.
“You know, you’re just like your father,” he said. “You have the same mind. It’s uncanny.”
Claire smiled, the comparison was the biggest compliment anyone could pay her. It only made her feel guiltier about not talking to him about any of this. Her gran’s warning echoing in her ears, she pushed out her chair.
“Time to face the music,” she said, motioning to Marley for the bill as she pulled out her card. “I hope my tips were helpful, Detective Inspector. I’d be interested to hear if you find anything.”
“Of course,” he said, tapping his nose. “Strictly off the record, though.”
After paying, she left the café, declining Ramsbottom’s invitation for a lift home in his comically tiny car. She was sceptical they would both fit, and she needed the walk to try and figure out how she could approach things with her father without sending him scurrying for his shed. Besides, after the day before, she wanted to enjoy the warm sun and lovely breeze.
By the time she passed it, Lilac Gifts was closed for the day. Claire would have given anything to be a fly on the wall for whatever conversation Joey and Gwyneth were currently having. She wondered if Gwyneth knew what Joey had done. Sweet as she was, Gwyneth denying her role in the casino club proved that, like everyone, she was capable of lying. If she did know about Joey’s indiscretion, Claire expected Gwyneth to cover for him. They’d known each other since school, after all, and Claire understood all too well how strong that bond could be.
On her way across the square, she peered into the still-open gym. Jeanie’s knitted cardigan and the scarf covering her roller-filled hair was as out of place in the gym as Claire usually looked. Ryan was on the other side of the glass counter, his back to the door. His arms were folded and his spine ramrod straight, while Jeanie leant across the glass, her face pleading. Claire waited outside until Jeanie rushed out. Though she glanced at Claire, she didn’t linger.
“Practically begged me to go back to the B&B,” Ryan explained when Claire approached. “From the sounds of it, my living there for so long has been keeping the lights on.”
“Would you?”
He shook his head. “Agnes and Amelia have rubbed each other the wrong way since the day we moved in. It was only a matter of time before that powder keg exploded. She’s out of control.”
“Agnes?”
“Amelia.” He paused to rub at his forehead. “I’m failing her as a father, Claire. It’s so easy with Hugo, and yet I can’t seem to get on her wavelength. It’s like she hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.” Claire reached across the counter and rested her hand on his folded arms. “Take it from the daughter of a good father, it’s obvious that girl adores you. You said it last night: she’s going through a tough time. You all are.”
&
nbsp; “I just wish I could help her channel these feelings she’s having.”
“How did your mother deal with you when your dad left?”
“Painting,” he said without hesitation. “She sat me down and forced me to paint with her. I hated it. At least until I started to get quite good, and then I fell in love.”
Claire smiled. “I think you’ve found your answer.”
“You think?” He scratched at the back of his head. “I’m not that good. I’m rusty after all these years. I don’t think I’d be an excellent teacher.”
“Ryan, she’s nine.” Claire chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “You can learn together. She was colouring in those books the night before I opened. I bet she’d love it. Something for the two of you.”
“You’re right,” he said, finally smiling. “Thanks, mate. Is your offer of the flat still on the table?”
“I wasn’t taking no for an answer.”
“Then give me ten minutes,” he said, checking the clock on the wall. “I’ll get this place cleared out, and we can get started on that flatpack.”
“Make it an hour,” she said, already heading for the door. “I need to go home and be a good daughter myself.”
Claire walked through the sliding doors and set off for the lane, only for the car her parents shared to pull out of the carpark concealed behind the row of shops housing Lilac Gifts. Thankfully, only her mother was in the car. Janet lurched to a halt and wound down the passenger window.
“Get in,” she said. “You’re coming home. Now.”
“I was already on my way. I fancied the walk, actually, if you—”
