by Agatha Frost
“We came through the back,” she said, offering Mavis a chair. “I’m on maternity leave. I should have given you my phone number.”
“No matter.” Mavis sat. “Is this the private investigator husband you told me about? You didn’t mention he was so handsome.”
“Barker, this is Mavis, the lady Lynn lived with.”
“Ah.” He offered his hand, and she gave it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Mavis tucked her legs under the table as she scraped the chair forward. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re both here. I keep calling the police for updates, but they won’t offer much. Doesn’t sound like they have a clue what they’re doing. To be honest with you, I can barely sleep at night knowing things haven’t been resolved.” She looked up at the ceiling, eyelids fluttering. “I even miss Lynn watching those loud films. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but I do. It’s so quiet without her.” She sniffed hard. “No matter. I’ll adapt, I’m sure. I don’t suppose you’ve got anywhere with your little investigation?”
“We’re getting somewhere,” Barker said, cupping his hands around his warm mug. “I don’t suppose the police have told you what Lynn was up to before her death?”
Mavis shook her head. “In what way?”
“Blackmail?”
“Lynn was being blackmailed?”
“No.” Barker sipped his coffee. “I’m sorry to say this, but Lynn was the one doing the blackmailing. So far, it’s been several people in the book club she was part of and our daughter.”
Barker looked to the counter, but Jessie was in the kitchen. Katie was squirting glass cleaner on the display cabinet and shining it up in tiny sections, her eyes on them in the gleaming reflection.
“A-a-are you sure?” Mavis stuttered, huddling within her coat. “That doesn’t sound like Lynn at all.”
“We’re sure.” Julia offered an almost apologetic smile. “It seems we both had different impressions of who Lynn actually was.”
“I suppose.” Mavis mulled over her thoughts for a moment, periodically shaking her head. “You never really know anyone, do you? They just show you what you want to see.”
“Did Lynn ever talk about any of this with you?” Barker asked. “Did you notice her having extra money? Lots of cash?”
“I never thought anything of it. Most people still pay their cleaners in cash,” Mavis replied. “She paid her taxes and her rent was always in on time. She’d buy herself a new DVD occasionally, but she was a penny pincher to the bone. It wasn’t in her character to splash the cash.”
“Maybe she was saving for something?” Barker mused. “That, or she just enjoyed the power of holding things over people. Anyone who goes that far is obviously—”
Barker swallowed the rest of his words after a subtle kick from Julia under the table. She jerked her head at Mavis as the woman’s bottom lip wobbled. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue before tucking it away in her sleeve.
“Lynn wasn’t perfect,” Mavis said as she stood. “Nobody is. But she was my friend. If you find out anything else, you know where to find me, Julia.” She turned to Barker and gave him a curt nod. “Mr Brown, I’ll take a card if you have one.”
Barker patted down his trench coat and pulled out a black business card with his name and position embossed in gold on one side. Mavis turned it over and tucked it into her pocket before setting off to the door with a slight limp. She stopped and turned back.
“Might be a silly question,” she said, scratching at her grey frizz. “The police didn’t know what I was talking about, and I know Lynn was here when she . . . when she passed. Did she happen to leave her cleaning caddy here? She carried that thing everywhere. It was almost as big as she was.”
“She had it,” Julia said as she pushed herself out of her chair. “Let me have a look.”
Julia headed into the kitchen, leaving Mavis and Barker alone. Mavis returned her attention to the market. The rain had stopped, and people were starting to creep into the village again.
“The police must not have been interested,” Julia said, listing slightly to one side as she carried the plastic box full of cleaning supplies into the café. “It was exactly where she left it.”
“Oh, there it is!” Mavis’s face lit up. “Thank you, Julia. I know it’s silly, but I don’t have a lot to remember her by, and her taste in films isn’t one I share. This is as close to a memento of my dear friend as I’m going to get.”
Once Mavis had left, Julia slapped Barker on the arm.
“You need to work on your tact,” she said as she picked up the menu. “Couldn’t you see she was upset? Despite what we think of Lynn now, she was all Mavis had. You’re not at the station, and that wasn’t an interrogation.”
“You’re right.” He rubbed his arm. “My bad. Must try harder to be nice, like Julia.”
“Hmm.” She glanced at him over the menu, eyes twinkling. “Did you give the letters to the police?”
“I did.” He looked out at the market on the green, and Jessie’s joke about witness protection made his stomach twist. “How do you feel about staying somewhere else tonight?”
“Whatever for?”
“Peace of mind,” he replied as he leaned in. “We still have no idea who sent those letters, and they know where we live. If the same person killed Lynn, who knows how far they’ll go?”
This time when Julia met his gaze over the menu again, all evidence of the twinkle was gone.
“Good idea,” she said, resting a hand on her bump. “I suppose we can’t be too careful. Did you have somewhere in mind?”
“Dot and Percy still have the spare room Alfie used to use.”
“Are you sure?” Julia smiled dryly. “You know what my gran can be like.”
“Have a think about it.” Barker stood and pulled his printed copies of the doorbell pictures from his inside pocket. “Order for me. I think I know who delivered the letters. Don’t suppose you recognise any of them?”
Julia looked over the pictures but shook her head. Leaving her to her tea, Barker set off towards the station. Thankfully, John was outside puffing on his electronic cigarette. He blew a cloud of cherry-scented smoke and hurriedly wafted it away when Barker walked into the cloud.
“I should probably quit,” he said, coughing. “They say it’s better than the real thing, but who knows, eh?”
“How are you doing, John?”
“I’m doing good, Brown.” He stuffed his device away, the formal tone a clear indication that Barker wasn’t to mention what they’d discussed in the bar. “What’s that you’ve got there? Not more letters, is it?”
“Not quite.” He handed over the printouts. “It turns out the doorbell snaps a shot every time it senses movement. There’s three here I don’t recognise.”
“I do.” John flipped through the pictures. “One of them, at least. This is Ryan McCally; his friends call him Raz. One of the dodgy ones out at Fern Moore. Will do anything for money.”
“Like deliver letters?”
“Seems small scale for him, but it’s a good lead.” John tucked the pictures into the pocket and gave them a pat. “This’ll give us something to do while your letters are analysed. One of the ladies at the station studied handwriting decryption as part of her degree, and she’s sure a woman wrote them, but that’s unconfirmed. I’ll have another unmarked car outside your cottage tonight.”
“Can you stick one outside Dot and Percy’s cottage too?” Barker whispered, glancing over his shoulder at the busy village green. “I think we’ll stay there tonight to be on the safe side.”
“Wise.” John nodded before checking his watch. “Thanks for the lead. I need to dash. I’ve got the Cumbria lot on a video conference. They’re not easy to deal with, let me tell you.”
John headed into the station, leaving Barker to retrace his steps. He noticed Stacey at one of the Christmas market stalls and made a beeline across the muddy grass towards her. After the news she�
�d received only that morning, he couldn’t believe she was anywhere but at home. From the dazed look in her eyes, she couldn’t believe it either.
“I’m really sorry about how things turned out,” he said softly as he pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “None of the sightings pointed us anywhere near the Lakes.”
“It’s fine,” she said, eyes fixed on an object in her hands. “You took me seriously when no one else did. You tried.”
The thing in her hands glittered in the soft lights of the wooden hut stalls as she turned it over: an iridescent Christmas tree bauble with ‘Dad’ etched across the side in gold.
“I knew he was dead,” she said blankly. “I felt it from the moment he went missing. My dad would never just leave like that. I didn’t want to admit it. I kept looking, hoping, praying that he would turn up . . . and yet, I always knew it would end like this.”
“I really am sorry,” Barker said, glancing over his shoulder and remembering what Julia had said about tact. The timing wasn’t right, but he needed to confirm a detail sooner rather than later. “Do you know if your father and Lynn were connected in any way?”
“I don’t think so, no.” She looked up at him for the first time, doubt clear in her pinched eyes. “Do you think the two cases are connected?”
“I just want to rule it out,” he replied. “Look, I know it’s not a good time to talk about this, but I’m aware Lynn was blackmailing you like she was blackmailing your mother, Jade, my daughter, and probably Kerry.”
“She was blackmailing my mother too?” Stacey sighed and put the bauble back. “She never said. Although I never told her about mine either.”
“I just want to know if it had anything to do with your father. If it did, perhaps—”
“It didn’t,” she interrupted, pushing her hand through her coat to rest on her midsection in a gesture Barker now knew all too well. “I’m pregnant. I found out before one of my classes at the village hall. Lynn was there cleaning, and she overheard me telling someone over the phone.”
“She was blackmailing you over being pregnant?”
“Not exactly.” Stacey exhaled and looked up at the darkening sky with teary eyes. “It’s been a stressful few months. All this stuff with my dad put a strain on things. Ben and I . . . we broke up. It was only for a fortnight, but I thought it was over. I went to River Lounge and met this guy. It was one night. One stupid night.”
“Ah.”
“Lynn heard me calling to let him know.” Her lip curled. “She zoomed straight out of her little hiding place and blackmailed me the second I hung up. I was already back with Ben when I took the test. He’s wanted another baby for years, but I wasn’t sure. If he knew the baby wasn’t his, it would break him.”
“And Lynn threatened to tell him?”
Stacey nodded. “Unless I paid her two thousand pounds. She promised she wouldn’t tell a soul if I paid her, so I did. I had to go to six different cash machines to draw it out, and she came along like we were having a fun little trip. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, but I wasn’t in my right mind. She caught me off-guard.”
“The more I learn about Lynn, the more I dislike the woman.”
“It didn’t even work,” Stacey said, her chin wobbling. “A week later, she wanted another thousand. I didn’t have it to give her. She died before I could figure out what to do. It bought me some time, but how could I even think about not telling Ben the truth? It’ll crush him, but how much worse will it be if he finds out in nine months, or nine years, or nineteen?” She released a shaky stream of air through puckered lips. “It’s eating me up inside. If my dad were here, he would have helped. He would have known what to . . .” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I need to go.”
Stacey weaved down the row of stalls and turned at the end. As much as he didn’t want to consider one of his clients as a suspect, he couldn’t forget the question mark Julia had written next to her name in her notepad.
Of the reasons for blackmail Barker had heard so far, Stacey’s had the most considerable personal consequences. Whether or not she realised it, she’d just revealed a very plausible motive for wanting Lynn out of the picture.
9
Julia
“Percy, that man with the eyepatch is still lingering outside the toy stall,” Dot called over her shoulder, binoculars pressed up against the window through the parted lacy net curtains. “Write it down. He could be up to something.”
In the chair by the window, Percy pushed his round red spectacles up the bridge of his nose. He added it to the reams of ‘observations’ Dot had been barking at him since Julia and Barker arrived with their overnight bags an hour earlier.
“I’m starting to think we should have stayed at the B&B,” Barker whispered to Julia, pulling her closer as they cuddled in the corner of the soft sofa.
“I heard that.” Dot shot him a glare over her shoulder. “The B&B is the first place I’d look if the people I wanted to kill weren’t at home where I expected them to be. We can’t be too careful. Someone out there is trying to murder my pregnant granddaughter, and I’m not going to take any chances.”
“That’s not exactly what I said was happening, Gran.”
“I read the letter with my own two eyes, Julia. That’s a direct threat if ever I’ve heard one, and after that cleaner faceplanted on the table in your café, there’s no knowing what could happen next.”
Julia looked around the sitting room for a distraction, eyes landing on animal shelter printouts on the coffee table.
“Any closer to deciding on a dog breed?”
“Not quite,” Percy said with a hearty chuckle. “We’ve reached somewhat of an impasse. I’d quite like a little French bulldog.”
“They’re ugly things,” Dot grumbled, still at the window. “They look more like Winston Churchill than a pet.”
“I think they’re rather adorable, in a tough way.”
“We’ll agree to disagree, dear.” Dot let the curtain fall. Abandoning her post for the first time in an hour, she pulled out one of the dog adverts and perched on the sofa. “I’ve fallen in love with this gorgeous long-haired Maltese. Long, white fur you can even put in a little ponytail on her head. Percy thinks he’ll look silly walking something so majestic.”
“I’m sure we’ll reach a compromise.” Percy picked up the binoculars and resumed the lookout.
“Compromise schompromise,” she mumbled as she gave the Maltese’s picture a little rub with her forefinger. “She’s exactly the dog for us. My husband just doesn’t know it yet.”
“The eyepatch man has gone, Dorothy,” Percy announced, scribbling notes in the pad with one hand while his other held the binoculars to the glass. “Although there’s a rather shifty looking chap lingering outside our gate with a motorcycle helmet on. Oh! He’s just opened the gate! He’s walking to the door. What if this is them?”
“Battle stations!”
Like this scenario was something they’d previously practised, Percy and Dot darted into the hallway one after the other without another word.
“It’s not too late to check into the B&B,” Barker whispered as he helped Julia rise from the deep corner of the sofa. “Evelyn’s always saying how she rarely has guests this time of year.”
In the hallway, Dot and Percy stood pressed up against the wall, one on either side of the door. Dot brandished a golf umbrella like a sword while Percy carried a rolled-up copy of The Peridale Post. The helmeted figure tapped the knocker, causing them both to jump.
“Stay back!” Dot hissed as Julia toddled towards the door. “They could poke a thin blade through the eyehole or splash acid through the letterbox. You never know, these days!”
“Gran, how many people do we know that ride a motorbike? He used to live here, for goodness’ sake.” Julia laughed as she opened the door and said, “Hello, Alfie.”
“Oh, hi, Julia.” Alfie pulled off his helmet and peered around the doorframe where Dot still stood against the wall. “Am I
interrupting something?”
“An episode of senility?” Barker suggested.
“You of all people, a private investigator, should know better!” Dot poked Barker in the chest with the stubby end of the umbrella before dropping it into its stand. “It’s better to be safe than sorry. It was Alfie on this occasion. Who might it be next time?”
Dot retreated to the kitchen at the end of the hall, and Percy shuffled into the sitting room, reading the back sports page of the paper as he went. Alfie closed the door behind himself and lowered his helmet onto the hallway console table.
“Have I come at a bad time?” he asked, the tip of his tongue rolling the black ring in the corner of his lip. “I just wanted to have a look for something I think I left behind when I moved out.”
“Is there ever a good time?” Barker patted Alfie on the shoulder. “There’s always something nutty going on in here, no matter the time of day.”
Leaving Alfie to hunt for his missing object, Julia joined her gran in the kitchen. Dot was busy dumping tea bags into cups.
“I appreciate you caring,” Julia said, giving Dot a slight hug from behind. “You might not need to be quite so vigilant, though.”
“We thought that in Spain. Look how that turned out.” Dot corrected the angle of the brooch at her collar. “I only want you to be safe, Julia. You’re carrying my third great-grandchild. Most people are lucky to get grandchildren, let alone great-grandchildren.” The kettle pinged, and Dot filled the cups, eyes going down to Julia’s midsection. “You’re looking ready to pop. How are you finding this last stretch?”
“Lots of kicking and moving.” She leaned against the counter for support. “More aches and pains than I thought possible. I had my first Braxton Hicks experience today. I wasn’t a fan.”
“Oh, I had that all towards the end with your father.” Dot chuckled. “And the kicking? I thought he would grow up to become a footballer based on the number he did on my insides in those last few weeks. Won’t be long now.”
Barker popped his head into the dining room, once again wearing his coat and shoes.
