Killed With a Kiss

by Fiona Grace

  “Are you going to be able to carry all that?” the clerk asked, looking at all the neat parcels he’d wrapped for her.

  “I can help,” Colin offered.

  “No thank you,” Lacey said.

  “Are you sure?” Colin pressed.

  “Quite sure,” Lacey said, awkwardly attempting to find a way to hold all the packages in one go, and failing spectacularly.

  “Come on,” Colin insisted. “That’s no way to treat precious antiques.”

  The clerk handed Lacey back her card, and it proved to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The bubble-wrapped statue slipped from beneath Lacey’s armpits.

  She gasped as she watched the rare antique plummet toward the countertop, before it was caught, barely an inch from making contact, by Colin.

  “Okay,” Lacey said, haughtily, trying to save face. “I suppose an extra pair of hands would be useful.”

  She thanked the clerk, then headed for the exit, leaving Chester and Colin to catch up as she crossed the road, her cheeks hot with embarrassment, and unlocked the van.

  “A van-driving antiquarian,” Colin commented, as she busied herself packing the new items safely away in the back. “You are quite the puzzle.”

  Lacey said nothing. Colin peered in through the passenger side window, at the empty sandwich package lying on the seat, next to the pickled onion chips and Jaffa cakes.

  “You eat junk food from convenience stores?” he teased. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

  Lacey knew the quote well. It was from Alice in Wonderland, one of her favorite novels.

  She peered over her shoulder at Colin, still not sure what to make of him. Him turning up in Weymouth seemed highly suspect to her. But what exactly she had to be suspicious about, she couldn’t be sure. He was like a moth to a flame. Was the flame her?

  “Let’s get tea,” he said, boldly. “Your lunch was pitiful.”

  Lacey was taken aback. She shook her head and stammered, “I can’t. I need to get back to Wilfordshire. My store’s really busy at the moment. I only have one employee. She’s already mad at me.”

  “But by the time you get back, won’t it already be past closing time?” He smiled angelically.

  Lacey checked her watch. He was right. She’d spent far longer treasure hunting than she’d expected. There was no way she’d make it back in time to catch Gina now.

  “What do you say?” Colin pressed. “I know a great cafe that makes Dorset apple traybake. It’s just round the corner.”

  Lacey was hungry. Her lunch had been disappointing and extremely unfulfilling. And after all the amazing street foods she’d seen on sale today it did seem a shame that the only thing she’d sampled was a vegan muffin.

  And anyway, it wasn’t like there was anyone else she was supposed to be spending the evening with…

  “I suppose I do owe you a coffee,” Lacey said, finally.

  “Great! It’s this way.”

  Lacey followed Colin along the pretty street, wondering if she’d just made a very bad decision.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I’ll take a slice of Dorset apple traybake and a macchiato,” Lacey said to the waitress standing next to the table where she and Colin were sitting (a genuine turn-of-the-century Persian marble top bistro table, Lacey noted with admiration).

  “I’ll have the same,” Colin replied.

  The waitress left, and Colin let out a cheerful guffaw.

  “What’s so funny?” Lacey queried.

  “You. Checking out the furniture.”

  “It’s antique,” Lacey replied. “These can sell for up to a thousand pounds if they’re kept in good condition.”

  Colin smirked. “And the chairs?”

  “Alfresco wicker,” Lacey told him with a nonchalant shrug. “Sixty if you’re lucky.”

  He laughed again. “You’re quite the expert.” There was a glint of admiration in his eye. “You said you’re an auctioneer as well?”

  “That’s right. I’m holding an auction this weekend. I was on a stock run when we met.”

  “I see,” Colin said, sounding intrigued.

  Just then, the waitress returned with their coffees and cakes. The conversation ceased as she placed them gently onto the table. Lacey licked her lips at the delicious-looking cake, a buttercup-yellow sponge with thin slices of apples layered on top and dusted with white icing powder.

  “Bon appétit,” Colin said.

  Lacey forked some of the apple cake into her mouth. She hadn’t been expecting it to be warm, but this one had that straight-out-of-the-oven warmth to it. The sponge was delightfully moist, with just enough spiced cinnamon to complement the sweetness of the apples.

  “Wow, this is so tasty,” Lacey said.

  She’d have to tell Tom about it. It was exactly the sort of thing he loved.

  “It’s a favorite of mine,” Colin said. “Reminds me of being a child. My mother and I used to bake it together.”

  Lacey noted the mournful look in his eyes, and guessed his mother had passed. She felt a surge of gratitude for her own mother, Shirley, even though they butted heads at the best of times.

  “Did you grow up around here?” Lacey asked.

  Colin nodded. “Bridport. It’s a little market town on the coast.”

  “Sounds like Wilfordshire,” Lacey said.

  “And where did you grow up?” Colin asked. “My bet is you’re not local.”

  “Gee, what gave it away?” Lacey joked, in her best Scarlett O’Hara accent. “You guessed it. I grew up in New York.”

  “How fantastic. And are you married? I don’t see a ring.”

  Lacey almost choked on her macchiato. Colin was forthcoming, and it took her by surprise.

  “Divorced,” she said. “Earlier this year. Best decision I ever made.”

  “I’m divorced too. Also a good decision. My only regret is how hard it was on the kids.”

  “Luckily I don’t have any of those,” Lacey said, thinking again about her auburn-haired nephew back in New York City. There may not have been any children of her own to harm during her divorce, but leaving home had meant leaving Frankie, and she missed him.

  “Do you want them?”

  Lacey shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question. I never did. It’s why David and I separated.”

  “And now?”

  “And now I’m warming up to the idea. But I’m going to be forty in a few days, and I don’t want to change my mind only to find out it’s too late.”

  Colin gave her a sympathetic nod, and Lacey wondered why she’d found herself being so open to this stranger. She’d opened up to him about things she’d not yet discussed with Tom. Perhaps just because he was a stranger, it made it easier. Perhaps it was because Tom was always so busy and so focused on pastries that it never seemed appropriate to bring it up.

  Whatever the reason, Lacey was glad to have had a chance to air her concerns to a sympathetic ear. Any suspicion she had over Colin disappeared. He was just a charming man, with a kind smile, and an excellent taste in dessert.

  She took another bite of Dorset apple traybake.

  “I’d take this over a Jaffa Cake any day,” she murmured.

  *

  It was dark by the time Lacey made it back to Wilfordshire. Her day trip had ended up being vastly different than what she’d expected. She’d found a compelling lead to pursue regarding her father and had enjoyed the company of a handsome, smooth-talking man. The whole thing had left her feeling quite discombobulated.

  Despite the fatigue settling over her, Lacey still had one more task to complete before she could return to Crag Cottage and retire to bed, and that was to lock all of her treasures safely away in the store.

  She took the promenade route toward the high street, noting how much busier it seemed than was usual for this time of the evening. In fact, it was almost as busy as Bournemouth beach had been during peak hour.

  Surveying the scene, Lacey saw well-dressed couples, groups of m
en and women, and some fresh-faced college-age youths milling around the street. They all had the same look about them, the sort of confident put-togetherness that came with wealth. Lacey realized they were the rich horsey people Gina had told her about. They must have been arriving throughout the day while she’d been away, probably to settle in over the weekend in advance of the festival’s kick-off. But their sudden presence made Lacey feel even more peculiar, as if her life as she’d known it had become irrevocably changed.

  Lacey tried to put her existential ruminations out of her mind—it was a bad habit she fell into sometimes when she was overtired—and turned the van onto the high street. But here, it was even more crowded! The Coach House Inn on the corner was completely surrounded by revelers. She’d seen pubs in London like that, where the streets were overtaken by patrons with next to no regard for the rules of the road, but she’d never expected to see such a thing in Wilfordshire! There were so many people standing on the cobblestone streets, it may as well have been officially pedestrianized.

  Lacey had no choice but to slow to a crawl and inch the van slowly past the inebriated revelers, taking painstaking care not to squish anyone’s toes in the process. As she went, she saw more than one person quaffing champagne straight out of the bottle. Since the pub didn’t normally sell champagne of that caliber, Lacey realized they must have stocked it specifically for this purpose. Gina was right. The horsey people were rich, and the businesses of Wilfordshire were going to profit from them enormously. Assuming the cost of cleaning up after them wasn’t excessive…

  After a long crawl along the high street, Lacey finally made it to her store and parked against the curb. She was relieved to see that Gina had properly secured the store, having lowered and locked the steel security shutters into place. With all these strangers milling about the place, Lacey couldn’t be too careful. There may well be opportunists lurking among the crowds.

  Lacey twisted her key to operate the mechanism and raise the metal shutters. They rattled slowly and noisily upward, revealing the glass windows inch by inch. As the shutters cleared eye height, Lacey got her first glimpse of Gina’s poster, which she’d stuck inside the window.

  Instead of a so-called “retired racing horse” being in the center of the otherwise quite tastefully designed poster, there was a sad, scraggly-looking donkey.

  “Gina!” Lacey exclaimed.

  But she was too tired to care about the mix-up, really. It was one way to get noticed, she figured.

  She headed inside and began unloading all of her amazing purchases into the back storeroom, excited all over again by the hoard she’d amassed. Then she parked Tom’s van on the side street beside the patisserie and switched into her Volvo.

  Once home, she headed straight to bed. It had been quite the day. And while she’d thoroughly enjoyed her innocent lunch with Colin, she couldn’t help but wonder whether Tom would see the liaison quite as innocently as she did.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lacey woke to a suffocatingly stuffy room. Before even checking the time, she leapt out of bed and pushed open the French doors that led to the balcony for some fresh air.

  As the hot ocean wind gusted into her bedroom, she looked out over the cliffs and down to the beach. To her surprise, her usually quiet corner of the beach was full of people. And not just the usual dog walkers and joggers who might venture this far on a warm summer’s morning, either. It was full of sunbathers, swimmers, and picnickers. By the looks of the smoldering remains of bonfires and disposable barbeques, some of the revelers were still going from the night before.

  Astonished, Lacey leaned over the railing to get a better view toward town. The closer to the epicenter she peered, the more people she saw, all packed in like sardines, making Wilfordshire’s beach look as crowded as Bournemouth’s. Her little town had been transformed, and Lacey felt a surge of excitement to get to her shop and see what the day had in store for her.

  She headed back inside to get ready. As she did so, she noticed the Sawyer & Sons pamphlet lying on her bedside table, where she’d left it the night before. The auction house might just hold the final puzzle piece she was looking for in the search for her missing father. She’d promised herself she’d call them once she was home.

  She paced over and picked the pamphlet up, gazing at the telephone number she needed to dial. Just one call might change everything. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d barely digested her emotions about what she’d learned during her day trip.

  Instead, she opened the top drawer of her dresser and put the pamphlet away inside. Out of sight, out of mind. For the time being. At least until the festival was over, anyway.

  Lacey turned to continue her morning routine, only to discover Chester sitting at the end of the bed, watching her with what could only be described as an expression of disapproval.

  “There are just too many other things I need to do first,” Lacey told him, trying to justify her continued postponements.

  Chester whined his disappointment. Lacey ignored his pointed glare as she went into the en suite to shower.

  Once she was clean, she dressed and piled her wet hair into a loose bun, then trotted down to the kitchen, knocked back an espresso, and slid on her shoes.

  “Come on, boy,” she called to Chester. “Time to vamoose.”

  He bolted out the barn-style back door and streaked across the lawn toward Gina’s sheep, sending them running. Lacey followed after him, taking the path he’d cleared for her through the herd, and knocked a jaunty rhythm on her best friend’s back door with her knuckles.

  Coming from inside, she heard the scraping sound of the bolt being drawn across, then the top hatch swung open and a disheveled-looking Gina blinked at her from the other side.

  “Yikes,” Lacey said. “Is everything okay? You look a little worse for wear.”

  “Charming,” Gina replied. She paced back into her kitchen and began filling her backpack with provisions for the busy workday ahead. “I just didn’t get much sleep.”

  Lacey remembered all the rich tourists she’d seen partying in the town last night, and thought of all the revelers still going on the beach this morning.

  “Were you out with the horsey people last night?” she queried.

  Gina yawned. “If you can’t beat them, you join them.”

  Lacey giggled at the mental picture that formed in her mind, of Gina in her red glasses and Wellington boots in the moonlit streets of Wilfordshire, a champagne bottle wielded above her head, can-can dancing with the rich horsey folk.

  Boudica padded into the kitchen, looking just as sleepy as her mother. But the moment she saw Chester, she went running for the door, shoved the bottom part open with her nose, and wrestled him to the ground in a sweetly ferocious play-fight.

  “So, did you meet any eligible bachelors?” Lacey asked, as Gina slid on her wellies.

  “Maybe,” Gina said mischievously.

  Lacey’s eyes widened. “Gina? Do you have a man in there?”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous,” Gina said. She took Boudica’s leash off the hook by the door. “You know I’d never take someone home on a first date.” She smirked.

  “So there was a date?” Lacey squealed, grasping her friend by the arm and practically yanking her out the door. “Tell me everything!”

  They headed across the lawn and down the cliff path together, pups in tow.

  “He’s Swiss,” Gina explained as they went. “I met him in the Coach House. The horsey folk completely take it over for the whole week. Goodness knows when they actually watch any of the official events, it seems like they’re in there from dawn until dusk!”

  They reached the busy beach. Boudica and Chester spotted a cluster of new dogs all trying to catch the same ball, and pelted across the sand to sniff out any potential new friends.

  Gina and Lacey began their brisk walk along the coastline.

  “When you get married in Zurich, can I be the bridesmaid?” Lacey teased.

/>   “It won’t come to that,” Gina said, with a shake of the head. “Mr. Rich is only here for the week and then he’ll go again. To be perfectly honest, that’s just how I like it. One week of male attention is plenty to sustain me for the rest of the year!”

  At her mention of male attention, Lacey thought of Colin. Their afternoon coffee chat had been pleasant, and Colin had come around in her mind from a slightly creepy pursuer to a somewhat charming gentleman. And therein lay the problem.

  She bit down on her lip. “I think I accidentally flirted with a man yesterday,” she confessed.

  “Oh?” Gina replied.

  “I met him at the auction house. He has a Border collie like Chester, so we started talking about that. Then we bumped into one another again in an art store.” She paused, still not one hundred percent certain their meeting in the art store had been by chance. “We were after the same antique, but I beat him to it. When I realized I wasn’t going to make it home in time to help you close up the store, I agreed to go for coffee and cake with him.”

  Gina narrowed her eyes contemplatively. “Who paid?”

  “It was a fifty-fifty split.”

  “Good. That sets a tone of friendship rather than romance.”

  “It does?” Having spent well over a decade as a married woman, Lacey had completely forgotten what the rules were.

  “Yes,” Gina said, deadly seriously. “And did you talk about Tom?”

  Lacey racked her brain. She hadn’t. She’d not even mentioned him. And added to that she’d talked about her divorce, probably inadvertently giving off the impression she was free and single.

  “No,” she confessed meekly.

  “Oh, Lacey,” came Gina’s reproachful response. “That’s not a good sign.”

  Lacey felt a flutter of panic in her chest. She’d not meant anything by it, she was just lonely and Colin seemed like a friendly guy with whom she had a lot in common to talk about. But she could see how it might seem from an outsider’s perspective.

  “It wasn’t like I was avoiding talking about him,” Lacey tried to explain.