Paws and Effect

by Scarlett English

  “They’re all winners,” I shouted and beamed when everyone cheered.

  I think I went home then. At least that was the last clear memory I had of the event. I might not have been a wine expert, but I’m pretty sure I was the toast of the town.

  Chapter Nine

  Ella

  It was getting close to dinnertime when I went over to check on Garrett that evening. He had lain down when he got back home and Lily said he’d dropped off to sleep right away and slept for the rest of the afternoon. I did hope he wouldn’t wake with a hangover after his misadventures earlier in the day.

  I came in to find Lily sitting at her dining room table, with, incongruously, a small whiteboard laid out on the table in front of her and a felt tipped marker in her hand.

  “Any news from…?” I pointed up to ceiling above us, where Garrett’s room was located.

  “Quiet as a mouse. After Eric helped him up the stairs, he said he wanted to take a short nap. That was three hours ago.”

  I laughed and sat down beside her. “And what on earth are you doing?”

  “Well, you know on the telly, the detectives always have the big boards they write their suspects on. I thought we could do that.”

  ‘Suspects for what? Roger’s murder?”

  “Yes, of course. And it was murder, as we now know, since Garrett said the police found small traces of blood and hair in Maisie’s front seat, indicating that he’d been hit by maybe a tire iron.” She shook her head. “I never liked Roger, but to think he might have been lying there on that seat, hurt and suffering when Maisie and I were standing there looking at him before Maisie took me home that night…and we didn’t do a thing to help him. Well, it’s most upsetting, isn’t it?”

  I reached out and squeezed her hand. “It was dark in that car park, and you didn’t know he was hurt. He might not have been at that point. Someone could have come along after.”

  “Not likely though.”

  “No,” I said with a sigh. “Probably not.”

  She sighed. “At any rate, I thought we could make a list of suspects.”

  I shrugged and smiled at her. “Why not? We certainly can’t do worse than Wainwright has done.” I pulled the whiteboard over and wrote the word, “Suspects” at the top and drew a line under it. “Okay, fire away.” I think Garrett’s American slang was rubbing off a bit on both of us, because Lily never batted an eyelash.

  “The brother that Roger was in the court fight with.”

  I wrote Nigel Battersley at the top of the board. “Okay, why?”

  “Let’s make our list and then go back and discuss them.”

  “Sounds good. Who else then?”

  “Those street gangs Roger was worried about. Maisie told me all about that.”

  I wrote down Teenage Street Gangs. “What about Roger’s wife? Could she have been angry her husband was left out of the will?”

  “She could be, I suppose, yes.”

  I wrote down Mrs. Nigel Battersley.

  “Anyone else?”

  “Rumor around the village was that Roger was seeing another woman besides Maisie.”

  “Really?”

  Lily nodded sagely. “He had a lot of women, from what I heard.”

  “Any idea who it could have been?”

  “Someone local, but no. I have no idea.” I wrote Unknown Woman Friend on the board.

  “If you’re doing this, then do it right and add Maisie’s name on there too,” came a voice from the door. We both looked up to see Garrett leaning in the doorway. He was pale and had a pained expression on his face. “Nan, do you have anything for a headache?”

  “I’ll make you some peppermint tea,” Lily said, popping up and going over to her tea caddy to search through it. “And there are some paracetamol tablets there on the counter. I thought you might need some.”

  Garrett grabbed the bottle and fell down into the chair beside me, shaking out a couple of tablets. He was barefoot and wearing a pair of old well-worn jeans that were a bit too tight, and a black T-shirt, that had a UGA bulldog logo on the front. He looked a little disreputable and needed a shave. My heart actually skipped a couple of beats.

  He’d told me in the past the logo on his shirt stood for University of Georgia, where he’d gone to university, and the bulldog was the football team’s mascot. American football, that is, not real football, which Garrett called “soccer.” I teased him often about that.

  “I don’t need the tea, Nan. These ‘paraceta-whatever-you-call-them’ should do the trick.”

  “Paracetamol, dear.”

  “Like I said. They’ll work faster than the tea.”

  “Nonsense. Headaches restrict the blood vessels in the brain. Like painkillers, peppermint tea opens up those constricted blood vessels. You’ll be feeling fine again soon.”

  “I think ‘fine’ is a relative term to be used in my near future,” he sighed. He fixed me with a gimlet glare. “Never again.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I’ve let you and Nan talk me into one harebrained thing after another since I’ve arrived in this country, and this is the last.”

  “Oh no, you don’t get to blame us for this, sergeant. You were advised not to swallow and to spit it out immediately after you tasted. But you got the bright idea of swallowing it all down. And you didn’t just do it once with the beer, but again with the wine. This, my friend, is all on you.”

  He gave me a haughty look and a sniff, as he swallowed down the tablets with the glass of water Lily put down next to him.

  “You shouldn’t be mean like that to a man in my condition,” he said, giving me a wounded look. “I feel really bad.”

  He put his head down on the table, and I couldn’t resist smiling at him and leaning over to massage the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m sorry. You’re right, and I don’t know what I could have been thinking. Can you ever forgive me?”

  He moaned softly as I kept massaging. “I’ll think about it. Mm, that feels good.”

  I smiled over at Lily, who was watching us with a raised eyebrow and an ironic smile. He sat up and motioned toward his neck. “Could you maybe rub just here a little? I think I slept on it wrong.”

  I got up to stand behind him and dug my fingers into it. He gave a long, low moan and let his head fall back against me. His hair was a tiny bit damp, and I figured he must have had a shower before he came down. He smelled of Lily’s chamomile soap. When Lily set his cup of tea down in front of him after another few minutes, I moved reluctantly back to my chair.

  He looked up in surprise. “Why did you stop?”

  “Drink your tea, dear, and stop whining,” Lily said. “Ella and I were busy when you came in, you know. Making a list of suspects.”

  “Yeah, I heard. And like I said, you have to put Maisie on that list too. And maybe Eric.”

  My mouth fell open. “What? Eric?”

  “Yes, he’s Maisie’s dad. He could have been upset over Roger running around on her.”

  “Running around?”

  “Yes. Tom called me a little while ago and they’ve found a few things in his journal. Apparently, Maisie wasn’t the only woman he was seeing.” He glanced over at the white board. “Oh good. You already have it on the board. Unknown woman friend.” He held up a fist toward me and I looked at it blankly. He sighed. “Fist bump, Ella. Don’t leave me hanging.”

  I slapped his fist with my hand, like a high five, and he sighed again. “Okay, good effort. Sort of.” He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

  “Did they have a name for the woman?”

  “No, the only name he used was Maisie’s.”

  “Oh no.”

  “He didn’t accuse her, but Tom said Wainwright was using those so-called accidents to try and build his case against her.”

  “Stupid man,” Lily said and we both looked at her in surprise. Garrett frowned.

  “He even questioned someone at the pub about seeing anything suspicious and so
me guy said he’d seen Maisie messing around Roger’s car in the car park on the night his brakes failed.”

  “What?” I shouted, and he winced and grabbed his head.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger. Tom said he asked Maisie about it and she said she was looking for George, her guard duck. He likes to get up under cars.”

  “That’s true; he does.”

  “That stupid Wainwright!”

  “Now, Nan…”

  “So, do you like our list?” I said, interrupting him before he tried to defend the man. Garrett didn’t like him anymore than we did, but he was very loyal to his fellow officers, and I didn’t want him to say something to Lily that she’d take offense to.

  He shifted his gaze over to the board and peered at it. “Explain your choices to me.”

  “Okay,” I said, “we were just getting to that. First is Nigel Battersley. We know he had a motive—the argument over the will. We don’t know his whereabouts earlier that night.”

  Garrett shrugged. “He said he was with his wife, watching TV. She corroborated it.”

  “Hmmph. An alibi by your wife is hardly an alibi at all.”

  He raised one blond eyebrow at me and made a little hurry-up motion. “Continue.”

  “The street gangs Roger was worried about.”

  “Ludicrous. Not that gangs don’t retaliate—they do, but not by putting something slippery on the steps or breaking in your apartment to rig your gas oven. Next.”

  I frowned at him. “Mrs. Battersley, Nigel’s wife.”

  “Motive?”

  “Same as Nigel’s. She wanted him to have the money.”

  “She also has the same alibi as Nigel. Plus, she teaches kindergarten and has arthritis in her back. Verified by her doctor. Do you really see that little kindergarten teacher skulking around parking lots and wielding tire irons? Then picking her victim up and shoving him into Maisie’s car?”

  “She could have been working with an accomplice.”

  “The aforementioned Nigel? No. Next.”

  “The Unknown Woman.”

  “Since she’s unknown, we really don’t have any way to rule her in or out. We need more information before we discuss her. Next.”

  “I don’t have anybody else on my list.”

  “That’s because you left off Eric and Maisie.”

  I shot him a look and wrote the names down. “Okay, Hercule Poirot, why would Eric be a good suspect?”

  He held up his hand and started counting them off on his fingers. “He’s got the means. He’s in good shape and strong enough to wield a tire iron, plus he knew where Maisie kept her car keys. He also had opportunity. He owns the pub and was ‘asleep’ upstairs.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Really? He never heard all that commotion?”

  “Eric is a bit hard of hearing.”

  “So he says.”

  “But why would he do such a thing?”

  “We’ve been over this before, Ella. Motive is as individual as the person committing the crime. Who knows what sets people off? If he’d heard the talk around town about Roger cheating on his daughter, he might have decided to handle it himself.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I’m just saying how it might look to someone who doesn’t know him.”

  “Someone like Wainwright.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay then, what about Maisie? She may not have the unimpeachable alibi of teaching kindergarten, but you can’t say she was big enough to manhandle Roger into the car either.”

  “She might not have needed to. She could have told him she wanted to talk about their relationship. Invited him to sit down and then bam!” Both Lily and I jumped as he continued. “She pulls out the tire iron and hits him over the head with it.” He pretended to dust off his hands. “Done.”

  “Oh, and then she just goes back inside the pub and keeps serving drinks?”

  “Why not?”

  I glared at him and Lily spoke up. “Are you saying she only pretended to think he was asleep when she left to take me home?”

  “I’m not saying that, no. I’m giving you a plausible, possible scenario. To explain what Wainwright might be thinking.” Lily gave a loud sniff and picked up the cup of tea he was drinking.

  “Wait Nan, I wasn’t through with that.”

  “You are now.” She plunked the cup and saucer down into the sink before taking her seat and glaring at him again. Garrett held up both hands and smiled ingratiatingly at her. “I was simply trying to explain.”

  “Yes, I know. Go on. Explain to us how Roger got in the road. Did Maisie come back and drive him over there to dump him in the ditch?”

  “No, of course not. We heard her coming back after she took you home. I think that Roger must have woken up. He was badly concussed and confused. He started the car—maybe to go for help—but he couldn’t make it and ran off the road. Maybe he got out of the car then to come back to the pub. Maybe he was just disoriented. But anyway, he got out, and then …”

  “Maisie came along and ran him down.”

  “Well, in this scenario—which is absolute supposition—she did, yeah. She saw him there in the road, was surprised, because she thought she’d killed him, and then took the opportunity to finish him off.”

  I glared at him. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Honey, neither do I.”

  I stiffened. Honey? Had he just called me honey? Was it a slip of the tongue, or did he mean it? What were the expectations for being someone’s honey, anyway? I think it surprised him as much as it did me, because his face began to glow decidedly pink. We both stood up at the same time.

  “Well, oh my goodness, look at what time it is. I really need to go.”

  “Yes,” he said, backing toward the door. “I have to…do…stuff upstairs. See you later.” He turned and bolted from the room.

  I stood there looking down at Lily, who gave me a smile and shook her head. “You know, the W.I. is sponsoring a dance next weekend. There’s going to be a small band playing, and they’re supposed to be really good. Why don’t you and Garrett plan to go? Lord knows you two are getting plenty of practice dancing around each other.”

  Chapter Ten

  Garrett

  “I don’t dance,” I said baldly, as I took the leaflet Nan shoved at me. Apparently, the W.I. was holding a dance next week in the same hall that the bake sale had been in. Apart from the fact I really wasn’t lying when I said I had two left feet, the thought of showing my face there anytime soon after the wine tasting filled me with horror.

  “Hmm,” Nan said and arched her eyebrow. “Then you won’t mind Geoffrey taking Ella then?”

  “What?” I lowered the leaflet. “Morris Man is taking Ella?”

  Nan just looked pointedly at me. “His mother said he was planning on asking her. And he does dance.”

  I snorted. “Morris dancing.”

  “He won a ballroom dancing contest last year. I believe it was at the studio where he had lessons.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Ella told me.”

  I blew out a breath and sat down idly scratching Watson’s ear. “If they’re going together, I don’t see what I can do about it.” Maybe it was for the best if Ella wanted to dance, because I certainly couldn’t.

  “He hasn’t actually asked her yet,” Nan admitted.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I told Nancy Drew—”

  “You got to be kidding me. There is no way Geoffrey’s mom is called Nancy Drew.”

  Nan twinkled. “She is, but don’t forget Drew is her married name and most people over here—certainly of her age—never read those American mysteries. Now, Enid Blyton yes. I only heard of Nancy Drew, because you had a few when you visited.”

  I could feel the heat climb up my neck. “Nan, if you love me please don’t tell anyone I read Nancy Drew stories,” I begged. The fallout would be epic. And it was only because mom was an equal opportunity reader. Nancy
Drew was a female badass, so of course she made me read them.

  A lot like Ella, and I shook my head. “Back to Nancy Drew,” I prompted.

  “Well, I might have told her and some others that you were American and very good at it too.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Very good at what?” Because I was pretty sure I was losing my American cool card.

  “Line dancing.”

  “Line dancing?”

  “Did you read the leaflet?” Nan asked.

  My gaze dropped to the piece of paper Nan had passed me. And sure enough the Adlebury W.I. was having a barn dance. There was a picture of a cowboy chewing a piece of straw, and in big letters people were invited to try “Cotton-Eyed Joe.” In even bigger letters at the top were the words “Yee-Haw.”

  I groaned. “No. No. No.” I shook my head for further emphasis.

  Nan bit her lip. “I might have said you were going to do a demonstration.”

  “You what?” I squeaked out, feeling suddenly lightheaded. It was going to be a disaster. Worse than the wine tasting.

  Nan waved her hand expansively. “If you really don’t know, there are videos on YouTube.”

  I glared at her. Since when did Nan watch YouTube?

  “And you can talk to Katie.”

  “Katie?” I parroted. “Ella’s receptionist, Katie?”

  “Yes. If you ever go to her mum’s, you’ll see all her trophies.”

  “For western line dancing?” I said in disbelief.

  “No,” Nan tsked at me. “Or not just, but trust me there has never been a dance invented that little girl can’t do.”

  I considered that. “Get back to the part about Ella and Morris Man.”

  Nan narrowed her eyes. “You ought to stop that. One of these days you’re going to call him that by mistake.”

  I huffed. “Has he actually asked her yet?”

  “No, but he will tonight if you don’t get a move on.”

  “Tonight?”

  “It’s practice tonight, or had you forgotten?”