Paws and Effect

by Scarlett English

  “Sounds delicious,” I said, standing up and brushing off the grass. “And it just so happens I’m starving.”

  I followed him back down the trail, the dogs following us, with only the occasional side trip to the field beside us to chase after a rabbit. Watson, who was older and much better trained than Sherlock, helped keep Sherlock walking in a more or less straight path. We all trooped into Lily’s kitchen, where she motioned us over to the dining table and her delicious smelling dinner.

  “You said these were your favorites Garrett,” I said, cutting into one of the puffs with my fork after we sat down at the dining table. “But they don’t have Yorkshire Puddings in America, do they?”

  “My mom always made them, though, so I was surprised as a kid to find out that not everybody knew what they were. Where I was from, in the south, pot roast or fried chicken was a big favorite on Sundays. With mashed potatoes and gravy. Maybe green beans. Delicious too.”

  “Fried chicken like Colonel Sanders?”

  “Much better. And white gravy to go with the biscuits and mashed potatoes.”

  “I know about American biscuits. But white gravy? Can you make that?” Nan asked. “I’d like to try it.”

  “I sure can. I’ll tell you what. Next Sunday, instead of Nan’s roast, I’ll bread some chicken and fry it up. I’ll make pan gravy to go with it. If Ella would fix some vegetables, we’ll cook for you for a change. I’ll even make you some chocolate gravy for dessert. We can have it with the biscuits.”

  “Sounds great,” I said. “And heavy. But Sunday dinner at my house, then.”

  Garrett smiled over at me and I saw Lily watching us both avidly. To change the subject, I asked Lily if she’d heard any more about Roberta.

  “As a matter of fact, I just got off the phone with Mary Hislop, whose sister works on the surgical floor at West Berkshire hospital in Newbury. She said Roberta was in some pain, so they have her sedated, poor girl. No word on the surgery yet.”

  “I think it’ll be later today,” Garrett said. “That surgery’s going to put Roberta out of commission for a while, so it looks like I’ll be a lot busier until she recovers. When it rains, it pours, I guess.”

  “What’s that, dear?” Lily asked and Garrett grinned, putting down his fork.

  “Don’t tell me I’ve found an old saying that you’ve never heard. I’m amazed.”

  “No, of course, I’ve heard of it,” Lily said with a sniff. “We say it too. I simply wanted to make sure I understood you. You were speaking with your mouth full, dear.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Well, it’s true. First Roger’s death and then Maisie being arrested. Now poor Roberta. And I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all somehow related.”

  I sat forward eagerly. “You mean Roger’s accident and now Roberta’s? I’m so glad you said that, because I’ve been thinking the same thing. Two people run down by cars within a few days of each other? In Adlebury? It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “Well, Wainwright thinks he knows who hit Roger, so there’s no mystery there.”

  “Yes, but he’s dead wrong,” I said, getting a little loud. “If Maisie says Roger was already in the road, then he was.”

  “But who hit him with a blunt object and put him in Maisie’s car?

  “I don’t know. Maybe the same person who hit Roberta. Where was Maisie last night anyway?” Garrett asked quietly. “I didn’t see her anywhere. In fact, if she’d been there to help her dad, Roberta wouldn’t have had to help out and probably would never have been hit.”

  “I’m not sure where she was—I think I heard Eric say before we started dancing that she was waiting at the pub for the relief bartender to get there before she could come. But if you’re implying anything else, you can just forget it.”

  “It’s not about what I’m implying, but what Wainwright will make of it. Because Wainwright is too lazy to look for the real culprit. Maisie is just a convenient target.”

  “To be fair, he’d have to check her whereabouts. What kind of car would she have been driving?”

  I glared at him. “Her father’s.”

  “Which is?”

  “A silver sedan. Like thousands of other cars in England.”

  “Ella,” he said, his tone way too condescending for my liking, “Surely you see how that might look to the police.”

  “Then they’re wrong. Like they’ve been wrong about everything. And I’m going to make it my business to find the real murderer and clear my friend’s name.”

  “No,” Garrett said, his eyes flashing at me. “You most certainly will not.”

  Since I was a very little girl, I hadn’t liked anyone telling me what I could or couldn’t do. I’m sure it was a character flaw, but it was a deeply ingrained one. And most especially I didn’t want to listen to someone who was neither my parent nor my employer giving me orders.

  Glaring across the table at him, I said, in the frostiest tone I could muster, “I beg your pardon.”

  “You heard me, Ella. I know how much you love mysteries, but this isn’t some book or movie you’ve stumbled into. You have a bad habit of thinking that you’re some kind of Miss Marple or whoever, but this is real life and it has to stop. You’re going to get yourself hurt or arrested.”

  “Arrested!”

  “Yes. Listen, I know you don’t like Detective Wainwright. And I know why. He can be really arrogant and unfriendly.” He hesitated and frowned at me as I snorted. “However,” he continued, getting louder. “He’s the lead detective on this case, and guess what? You’re not.”

  “Well, excuse me, Sergeant. O’Leary, if I don’t think much of your Detective Wainwright. He has obviously arrested the wrong person, leaving the real murderer out there to run willy nilly in the streets and mow down not only honest citizens, but now constables too!”

  “Willy nilly?” he snorted, his lips quirking up.

  “You know what I mean, Garrett!” I stood up abruptly, shouting now.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he said, standing too.

  “Listen to me, Ella, and listen good.” He pointed a finger at me. I hated it when people pointed fingers at me. “You are not to get any more involved in this thing than you are already.”

  “Oh really? And who’s telling me—my friend Garrett or would that be Sergeant O’Leary?”

  “Whoever it takes to get you to stop. You were extremely lucky at Lady Agatha’s in the spring, but that good luck is going to run out. I don’t want to have to scrape your body up off the street, or try to convince Wainwright that it wouldn’t be a good idea to arrest you for getting in the way of his investigation!”

  “No one’s asking you to! I’m a big girl, Sergeant, and I can take care of myself. If you lot can’t solve the crime, then maybe someone else should take a crack at it.”

  “Well, we ‘lot’ don’t have a convenient drawing room to gather our suspects in, like you do, Dr. Knight. But do feel free to tell us how stupid we police officers are not to have already solved the crime. And please grace with us your expertise, based on your vast experience in these cases. Go on. I’m waiting.”

  I glared at him across the table while Lily sat looking on in horrified silence. “And you can keep on waiting, you-you insufferable Yank!”

  I threw down my napkin and turned to Lily, dashing the tears from my eyes. Not that my feelings were hurt—not in any way. I always teared up when I got really angry, that’s all. “Thank you very much for asking me to dinner, Lily. I’m sorry about this. I truly am—and I’ll apologize again later, but right now I need to…I need to be somewhere else.” I gave Garrett one more smoldering look and turned on my heel, calling to Sherlock, and as soon as we went through the door, I slammed it satisfyingly behind me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Garrett

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I looked at Roberta in exasperation the next day. “Oh, did you get run over on purpose?” I got a smile out of her for that. “By the way, you look awful.�
� And that got an even bigger one, which was what I was hoping for. She did though. Her arm had some sort of temporary splint on. They couldn’t do the real thing until the swelling had gone down which might be up to a week. Then no lifting for another six and physiotherapy after that. I was going to get temporary help, but I had no idea who.

  What angered me was the bruising. Someone—and I was determined to find out no matter what Wainwright said—had tried to run her over deliberately.

  “I couldn’t see much. To tell the truth, I barely glanced over at the car before I heard it coming at me, and then I was mostly concerned with getting out of its way. I’m pretty sure whoever it was had their full beam on too.

  “Which was clearly deliberate as it wasn’t that dark. Not enough for full beam.” I pronounced.

  “But why me?” Roberta asked completely baffled. “I’ve barely worked in the village for three months. Certainly not long enough to annoy someone so much they would want to run me down.”

  “Tell me exactly what you did outside.” Sometimes when people went through steps it jogged their memory.

  “You saw me get Eric’s keys.” I nodded. “I went outside to the parking area. On the way out the door, I noticed a car at the end of the row, sort of halfway pulled out into the lane. It looked like the driver was hunched over fiddling with something on the dash. I didn’t pay it much mind, really, except to notice someone still hadn’t taken off their temporary tire, and they’d regret that if they had a flat tire.”

  “Their temporary?”

  “Yes, the little compact spare tires that some cars have. Compared to full-sized spares, they save a good deal of trunk space, but they’re not designed for long-term. Do you have those on American cars?”

  “Hm? Oh yes, we do on some of the smaller cars.”

  “Anyway, it was just a flash of a thought. I never noticed what kind of car it was, really. Just that it was a big one—a sedan—and it was light colored, like silver or maybe a pale blue. It was getting darker outside and the light was that funny twilight kind. And they had their full beam on. Eric’s van was on the end row nearest the hall, so all that took only a moment or two. There are only three spaces there, and it’s always used for unloading et cetera.”

  “And you had to cross the area that cars drive down looking for spaces.”

  “Yes. I got the box of glasses. It wasn’t very heavy, as they’re all plastic. Just awkward. Have to be for these events. Locked the back of the van, turned and stepped back to go to the hall. I heard a car engine revving, and I glanced in that direction and saw the car had pulled out of its space on the end and was revving its motor. Then it was flying at me. She shook her head and winced at the action. “I don’t remember anything else.”

  I reached out and squeezed her hand briefly. “It’s fine. I’m going to go because me asking a ton of questions isn’t gonna help your concussion.”

  “I’ll be okay.” She sighed. “First poor Roger Battersley and now me.”

  “You were talking to Roger that night at the pub, weren’t you?”

  “For a while, yes. Then he made a pass at me, and I got uncomfortable. I knew he was drinking, but my goodness, Maisie was right there. Everyone in the village knew they were together. So, I got up and made my excuses. He followed me out, though.”

  “He did?”

  “Oh yes, he was insistent. I stopped to talk with friends for a while, but when I finally left, he grabbed my arm on the steps and tried to pull me over to put an arm around me. I dodged him and left after that. I wish I’d stayed a bit longer now though and seen him to his car.”

  “It was close by, though, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but he was still standing on the steps as I left, staring out toward the side of the pub.”

  “Do you know what he was looking at?”

  “No idea.”

  “Well, I should be going.”

  She smiled weakly. “Oh, and when you see Petronella, will you thank her for me? Rachel called this morning to check to see if I was all right, and she told me Petronella took her and Jennifer home for me.”

  I must have given something away, because Roberta tilted her head and eyed me solemnly. “What’s wrong?”

  I blew out a frustrated breath. “I might have put my big foot in my mouth.” Ella had left for work very early that morning, and we hadn’t seen or spoken to each other after last night. I quickly admitted what we argued about.

  “Well, you’re right,” Roberta said. “It’s too risky for civilians to go ferreting through cases like this.” I cheered up a little, feeling slightly vindicated. “But you couldn’t have put your size twelves in it better if you had tried,” she added dryly.

  I huffed. “I guess I have some groveling to do.”

  She smiled. “Flowers might work.”

  “Would they?” I wasn’t sure. I had a feeling it was going to take more than that. We had to talk properly. I thanked Roberta and told her not to worry about anything and that I would go and check on her sister for her. I knew she had a home nurse that called, but it wouldn’t hurt and it might give me some more time to think about what I was going to say to Ella.

  Not that I was putting it off or anything.

  Rachel Black answered the door and she smiled. “Come in, sergeant. I’ll put the kettle on,” and she wheeled herself quite easily into the kitchen. I followed.

  “I just wanted to see if there was anything I could help with while Roberta’s out of action.”

  Rachel was—I decided—one of the nicest persons I had ever met. She told me a drunk driver had driven headlong into their car on the M4 as they had been coming home from their first night out together after Jennifer had been born. The accident had killed her husband, leaving Rachel in a wheelchair. The insurance had paid for the adaptations to their one story home, or ‘bungalow’ as Nan would have called it.

  She was very grateful Roberta had moved back because their mom, who had been helping, was ‘getting on a bit’.

  Nearly an hour later I was just putting Roberta’s tools away after noticing the faucet leaking when I used the bathroom, and I heard the doorbell ring. I stepped out of the bathroom carrying Roberta’s toolbox to come face to face with Ella. I smiled, but she didn’t, and my heart settled somewhere in my boots. I put everything away and walked back into the lounge just to tell Rachel I was leaving and to make sure she had my number. I didn’t look at Ella and was nearly back at my car when I heard her call my name.

  “Garrett?”

  I turned. “I’m sorry,” I rushed out.

  She nodded. “So am I.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was apologizing or just expressing regret over what I had said to her. “And it isn’t that you aren’t capable, or intelligent, it’s the exact opposite. But the thought of you getting hurt scares me to death, and sometimes I speak before I think.” I laughed embarrassingly. “My mom used to say it was putting my mouth into action before I’d engaged my brain.”

  Ella smiled then and stepped closer to me. “I struggled with dyslexia when I was growing up. I was told—not by mum and dad obviously, but by other people—that I was too stupid to ever make something of myself. It made me more determined, and when someone questions my ability, I react.” She paused. “Sometimes with a lot more enthusiasm than I intended.”

  I took another step. “I can’t stop you, and I promise to try and understand, but please be careful. Someone deliberately aimed for Roberta last night.”

  Ella’s eyes widened. “Is that definite then?”

  “I think so. I spoke to Roberta an hour ago and she remembers the engine rev, but she couldn’t see much of it because it had its high beam on, which for dusk was completely unnecessary. Also, the car, which was a large, possibly silver sedan, had one tire that was smaller—like a temporary spare.” Ella chewed her lip. “What are you thinking?” Maybe if I worked with her instead of keeping her out, I could make sure she was safe.

  “I’m worried about Maisie.”
/>   I nodded. “Generally speaking or was there something—”

  “I talked to her. She said she arrived just after the ambulance left,” Ella blurted out. “Maisie originally was going to help him, but the bartender was over an hour late getting to The Duck. Maisie says she got stuck behind a tractor on Primrose Lane, and it took her ages. And like I thought, she was driving her dad’s car. A big, sliver colored sedan. When Wainwright finds out…”

  “I understand. You’re worried she can’t prove her whereabouts,” I said. “And when Wainwright finds all that out, you think he’ll try and pin that on her too and she’ll be back in jail.”

  Ella nodded jerkily, and I stepped forward and put my arms around her thinking—not for the first time—how well she fit in them. “When we’ve helped prove Maisie’s innocence, we need to talk.”

  Ella lifted her head and looked at me. “We?” she asked hopefully. “You’re going to help me?”

  I grinned, hoping I really wasn’t going to regret it, or that come Monday, I wasn’t looking for another job.

  “I think we need to go see Nigel.” I grimaced. “Though I’m not supposed to be working the case.”

  Ella smirked. “However, he does have a dog that has been recently reported as an American Pit Bull.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Which is illegal in the UK.”

  “Yes.” She grinned up at me. “I know that Monty is a Staffordshire Bull terrier, because he’s one of my patients, so I haven’t been in any hurry to check it out. But I am duty bound to investigate, even though I already know his breed, and I believe you are duty bound to accompany me so I can prove it to you.”

  I grinned. “Are you sure?”

  She waved her arm expansively. “Well, as we aren’t dragging his dog away, but giving him good news, I don’t think he’ll object. Still, I might be concerned about my safety until I tell him the news.”

  “And that definitely comes under my role as community sergeant. So I’ll follow you.” We both had our own cars, and it wouldn’t have looked good arriving in the same vehicle anyway.