by Agatha Frost
“That’s why you showed me the EpiPen,” Julia cut in. “To disarm me. You were bluffing.”
“And you fell for it.”
“You’re a good liar.”
“You learn to be with parents like mine.” Oliver offered an apologetic shrug. “When you invited me to the café to help you piece together Tony’s life, it felt like a golden opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I had to throw you off. I gave you everything you wanted. Evidence for Bev and Camila—and I even dropped in that horsewoman. I knew it was a possibility that you’d rule all of them out and come after me, but it would at least keep you busy until I could come up with something else.”
“And that something else was to kill Bev, make it look like suicide, throw in Camila for extra insurance, and ride off into the sunset with your motorbike and supplies?”
“Exactly.” Oliver stood and picked up the bags. “I thought you’d put those pieces together when you turned up at Addie’s flat, and I was out of breath. I ran all the way from Bev’s cottage.” Oliver looked pleased with himself. “Tony wasn’t paying me much but living rent-free for a year means I’ve got a couple of thousand in cash to get me far enough away from here.”
“Rent-free?”
“You only need to tell Addie you’ve paid her the rent.” Oliver sighed. “Poor woman. I’m going to miss her.”
“That’s cruel.”
“Cruel?” Oliver’s expression twisted. “I’ve been looking after her for the past year when no one else would! You know she has two sons, not that she remembers them most of the time. I never saw them once in that year! I was there every single day.”
“And robbing her blind?”
“I did what I had to do.” Oliver carried the bags over to the motorbike. “If it’s any consolation, I doubt she’ll even remember me this time next week.”
Any shred of empathy and compassion Julia still felt for Oliver dissipated with that final comment. She clung to the flashlight tighter, knowing her moments to use it were running away from her.
“What now?” Julia asked, standing up as Oliver strapped the bags to the bike.
“I drive off and never look back.”
“I was talking about me.”
“Oh, right.” Oliver chuckled. “Well, you’ll be going down into the basement. I don’t know what you’ll find down there, but it should be pretty quiet. I’d say three weeks without food and water is long enough, don’t you?”
“Long enough for what?”
Oliver pushed the dining table out of the way and ripped up a dust-covered rug. Julia coughed and wafted. Even if she wanted to use the torch, the cloud between them would dim the effects. She waited for the dust to settle, and when it did, Oliver yanked on a wooden door to reveal a ladder down to the basement.
“Well, she’s not making any noise.” Oliver skewed his ear into the dark. “I’d say Mother is almost certainly dead.”
“Your mother?”
“Turned up three weeks ago.” Oliver huffed, planting his hands on his hips. “Drunk, of course. Begging for a second chance. She somehow tracked me down to Addie’s flat. It was almost too easy to lure her out here. I wasn’t going to let her ruin my one shot to kill Tony. I guess this means I’m going to get away with killing both of my parents, huh? What are the odds? Well, I suppose this is it. Down you go.” He retrieved the knife from his hoodie pocket. “If you don’t put up a fight, I won’t use this. Maybe someone will stumble upon you. I stumbled upon this place after all. I’m sure someone will be along in a week or two—if you can still scream out for help by then.”
Julia stared at the knife as her fingers touched the cold metal of the torch. Was it bright enough to dazzle him and somehow flee? It had almost knocked her off her stool when Barker had demonstrated it, but she’d been half-asleep. Would it have the same effect on a teenage boy with a crazed, and yet lucid, look in his eyes?
“C’mon, Julia.” Oliver pointed the knife into the hole. “Don’t make me kill you. I didn’t mind the others because they weren’t important, but it would really upset me if I had to…”
Oliver’s voice trailed off and his head whipped to the open front door. It took Julia’s older ears a second longer, but she heard it too. The distant but unmistakable blare of police sirens. It was the moment Julia had been waiting for. She dropped the torch into her hand and sent its full beam through the dusty darkness and into Oliver’s eyes. The shock made him cry out and shield his face. The knife clattered from his hand and dropped, echoing to let them know it had fallen into the basement and out of reach.
Inspired by the knife, Julia grabbed the loose fabric of Oliver’s hoodie and pulled him towards her. As expected, the teen barely weighed a thing and fell into the hole with little effort. Before he had a chance to gain his bearings and find the knife in the dark, Julia slammed the door shut, and with a strength she hadn’t known she possessed, she flipped the heavy dining table and dropped its flat side onto the door. Standing on the table as it rattled underneath her, Julia scrambled in her handbag. She set off the panic alarm, drowning out Oliver’s screams. Not wanting to risk not being heard, Julia pressed the whistle against her dry lips and blew like her life depended on it.
She didn’t stop whistling when she saw torches dancing through the dark in the distance, nor did she stop when those torches turned to footsteps in the corridor right in front of her eyes. It took Barker pulling the whistle from her hands to break her from her trance.
“Told you they’d come in handy,” Barker called over the sound of the blaring panic alarm as he squeezed Julia tight. “Where is he?”
“In the basement with his mother.”
“Mother?” Christie cried, panting as a small army of uniformed officers followed behind.
“Judy Bridges, or Judith Smith, depending on who you ask.” Julia melted into Barker’s chest. “How did you know I was here?”
“Your phone.” Barker clutched her head in his hands. “I put the tracker on when you were in the shower that first day you set it up. I promise I didn’t look at it until Christie called to tell me what you told him.”
“Thank you,” Julia whispered. “Bev?”
“She’s alive,” Christie said as two officers picked up the table Julia had thrown on her own. “Only just, though. She managed to give us Oliver’s name, but by then, Camila had already called and told us about your crazy visit. Couldn’t help getting into a car with a boy you knew was a killer, could you, Julia?”
“What can I say?” Julia let go of Barker and smiled at Christie with the last of her energy. “I needed to know for sure. Be careful with him, he has a knife down there.”
“I brought this.” Barker reached into his back pocket and tossed the canister of pepper spray to Christie. “Have fun.”
“Oh, with the rings this kid has had me running around in?” Christie shook up the canister as two officers braced themselves to open the trap door. “With pleasure.”
Leaving the officers to do their work, Barker walked Julia out of the house and back along the path, which felt so much shorter with a little light in her eyes and without a knife behind her.
“What were you thinking?” Barker whispered when they were almost back at the cars. “I could have lost you … again.”
“I underestimated him,” Julia replied. “Take me home, Barker. I’ll explain everything when I’m in front of our fire, and I have a cup of peppermint and liquorice tea in my hands.”
Chapter Seventeen
Dot cancelled the party the moment she heard Julia had driven off in her car with a murderer. Not one to waste good costumes though, she rearranged it for Saturday, giving all the other villagers a chance to gather their own outfits. By half past seven on Saturday night, the village hall was bursting with so many perfect costumes, it would be difficult to argue that Dot hadn’t transported the whole village back to the 19th century.
“To Julia!” Dot gave the first toast of the night. “For saving the day once again, and for not d
ying, but coming very close more times than she’d like to admit.”
All glasses in the hall raised to her, and she accepted it humbly. Since Oliver’s arrest for the murders of Tony and Judy, the attempted murders of Bev and Julia, and for trying to frame Camila along the way, people had been taking bets on how many years the judge was going to give him. Wild figures had been thrown around, and even though people like Barker and Christie assured everyone that it wouldn’t be possible for the judge to give Oliver a ‘whole life sentence’ because he was under twenty-one, it didn’t stop people speculating that he’d never see the light of day again. In reality, Julia knew Oliver could be walking the streets again in as few as fifteen years, or thirty if the judge was feeling extra tough. With Oliver’s background and parents, she doubted the judge would fully throw the book at him, but she didn’t expect to be bumping into him in the street any time soon.
The one downside to Oliver’s arrest was that there was no one to take care of Addie, although Julia had informed social services about her situation, and they’d promised they would do all they could to assist her.
One of the few positives to come out of the whole ordeal was Bev’s turnaround. Staring death in the face had given her the new lease of life she had been looking for since the end of her marriage to Tony. Julia had been over the moon when Bev had told her she had booked a one-way ticket to France to explore the world before it was too late.
“Where’s Barker?” Dot called into Julia’s ear over the noise of the gramophone. “Percy’s magic show starts soon.”
“He had to take a phone call,” Julia called back, although she didn’t have the breath to shout given the tightness of the corset under her maid’s outfit. “I think it was his publishers.”
“Phone … call?” Dot fanned herself. “I’m not sure I understand, dear. You see, in the simple times that I’m from, they aren’t quite household items yet.”
“You’re really getting into your character, aren’t you?”
“Character?” Dot fiddled her brooch. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Dot floated off to spread the word that Percy would soon begin his magic show. Leaving the noise of the hall behind, Julia snuck out. Barker was sitting on a bench in front of the church.
“Sir, may I get you anything?” Julia asked, curtseying as she fluttered her lashes. “Anything at all?”
Barker laughed deeply as he patted the empty space next to him. In keeping with Julia’s service role, Barker had adopted the outfit of a chimney sweep, although Dot had pointed out more than once that he was far too big to fit up any chimney.
“The publishers have scrapped the book.”
“Oh, Barker!” Julia clasped his hand. “I’m so sorry!”
“No, it’s a good thing.” Barker squeezed her hand and smiled. “They only scrapped it because I presented them with a new idea. With Oliver’s killing spree making national headlines thanks to his parents’ faded celebrity status, the publishers practically bit my hand off when I told them the pitch for the book. The Body at the Bake-Off. Catchy, right?”
“But you worked so hard on the other book.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m ready to let it go. It wasn’t meant to be. I have a good feeling about this new idea. Besides, they’ve offered me a five-figure bonus if I have the first draft on their desk in two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Julia cried. “That’s impossible! How are you going to do that?”
“With a lot of coffee and not a lot of sleep, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to miss me for a little while longer. But after that, I’m all yours.” Barker leaned in and kissed her. “We can even go on a nice, long honeymoon and spend that bonus in style. But let’s not think about that right now! Let’s get back in there and party like it’s 1879!” He stood and pulled Julia up with him. “I’ll meet you inside. I think you’re needed out here.”
Barker nodded across the churchyard to the shadowy figure of another maid sitting on the wall. When she was alone, Julia approached Jessie, who had dressed as a maid in solidarity.
“Don’t let the mistress catch you slacking out here,” Julia said as she sat on the lumpy wall next to Jessie. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Dot comes out to cane us for not passing drinks around. She’s been consumed by her Victorian ancestors.”
Jessie laughed, but Julia could tell her heart wasn’t in it. It had been five days since Julia had confronted the estate agent dressed in the same costume, and for every one of those five days, she’d wanted to talk to Jessie about it. Now that they were alone in the chilly night, it felt like the right time.
“Jessie, I—”
“Here.” Jessie reached into her frilly apron and put something in Julia’s hand. “I found them.”
Julia opened her hand and stared, mouth agape, at three items she’d given up all hope of ever seeing again.
“My jewellery!” Julia cried, clenching the pieces tightly in her fist. “How—why—I don’t understand.”
“You hang around Fern Moore long enough, twist the right arms, and people start talking.” Jessie shrugged as though it was nothing. “They didn’t even know what to do once they had them. When I found Mark, it only took me a couple days to track them down.”
“You confronted them?”
Jessie nodded. “I hope you don’t mind, but I gave Mark a black eye. I made sure he knew why he was getting it, too. He apologised while he cried like a baby. I thought it would be satisfying, but he was just pathetic. They don’t scare me. They’re nothing but kids pretending to be gangsters. People like Oliver scare me. I ended up liking him.”
“I liked him, too.”
“I thought we were the same.”
“You’re nothing alike.” Julia wrapped her arm around Jessie’s shoulders. “Nothing alike.”
“I guess I was right in the end.”
“About what?”
“I told you he was a psycho killer.” Jessie grinned from ear to ear as she rested her head on Julia’s shoulder. “Call me Evelyn! I successfully predicted the future before it actually happened.”
“You did.”
They sat on the wall listening to the noise from inside. Julia could feel how desperate Jessie was to tell her what she already knew. Even though it was hard, she could at least do this for her daughter.
“I know you want to move out,” Julia whispered before kissing Jessie’s bonnet. “I spoke to your estate agent. It’s okay. I support you.”
Jessie’s entire body tensed up under Julia’s arm, and she didn’t say a word. Julia rubbed Jessie’s arm to try to bring her out of it, but the silence dragged out.
“You know?” Jessie asked finally. “Since when?”
“Since Monday.”
“Monday?” Jessie cried, pulling back from Julia. “You’ve known since Monday, and you’ve let me sweat it out for five days?”
“There have been other things going on,” Julia reminded her. “I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t freak out at first, but Dot made me see sense. I have to let you go, so you can spread your wings and grow into the person you’re supposed to be.”
“Dot said all that?” Jessie asked sceptically. “Wow.”
“She has her moments.”
“You’re really not angry?”
“Angry?” Julia pulled Jessie back to her side. “Why would I be angry with you? I love you. If you want to move out, then do it, but just know I’ll keep your bedroom at home for whenever you want to stay. Even if you move to Timbuktu, it will always be your home.”
“I promise not to go to Timbuktu,” Jessie said. “But how about the flat above the post office? I can easily afford it, and I really like it. It’s mine if I want it, I just need to sign on the dotted line.”
“The flat above the post office?” Julia turned and looked across the dark green at the building next to the café. “You’ll be able to roll out of bed and get straight to work.”
“Exactly.” Jessie’s voice light
ened. “You’re still going to see me every day.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“And I’ll still need you to wash my clothes.”
“What happened to independence?”
“Baby steps.” Jessie winked.
“Speaking of babies, you’re not doing this because you feel like you need to because Barker and I might be having a baby, are you? Not that I’ve asked him yet.”
“No,” Jessie said firmly. “In fact, that part was a relief. I’ve been thinking about it for months, but I was scared to upset you. You’ve done so much for me. I didn’t want you to think I was throwing it back in your face. I can do this because you’ve done so much. You gave me a life I never would have had, and now it’s my turn to see what I can do with it. Maybe I’ll fall on my face, but I need to find out.”
“Or maybe you’ll soar.”
“Or that.” Jessie laughed. “I grew up in crammed children’s homes and foster homes, then I lived on the streets, and for the past two years, I’ve been with you. I’ve never in my whole life known what it feels like to just be me on my own without needing anyone. Not having Alfie and Billy here has given me room to breathe and think about what I want, without having to be a sister or a girlfriend. This is what I want. I want to try.”
“Then try.” Julia clapped her hands. “Sign those papers first thing on Monday morning and get that ball rolling. Live your life, Jessie, and never be scared to come back to me when you want or need me. I’ll always be here.”
“Even when you have a screaming baby?”
