by Fiona Grace
Lacey finally fixed her gaze back on Taryn, the vast majority of her rant having passed her by.
“Can I ask you something?” Lacey said.
“Now?” Taryn replied haughtily. “Can it wait? It’s already really late and I’m only halfway through organizing everything back here.”
“Let me help,” Lacey said.
Anything to get Taryn to speak.
Taryn folded her arms. “You want to help me? Why? Whatever you want to talk to me about must be very important.” Suddenly, her eyes sparked with excitement. “Is it about Tom? Have you had a fight?” A look of malevolent glee lit up her entire face. “Did you break up?”
“It’s about Daisy,” Lacey said.
The excitement faded from Taryn’s face. “What about her?”
“I heard you were her alibi.”
Taryn sighed loudly. “Alright. Come in. This is obviously going to take forever. I may as well get some free labor out of it.”
*
Lacey placed the armful of gray silk blouses on the counter and began folding them as per Taryn’s instructions. While she folded, the boutique owner worked through her own pile, relaying the story of the night Daisy had been in her store.
“She was in here for literally hours,” Taryn said. “A total pain in the ass. She asked for the full stylist experience, then rejected all of my suggestions! Basically, if it wasn’t pink, she wasn’t interested.”
Lacey looked down at the array of grays and beiges in her stack. Pink wasn’t the sort of color Taryn stocked. It only added to her curiosity as to why Daisy would pick the boutique to shop in, when it didn’t sell anything she particularly liked, and if she was only going to reject the expert she’d come for the opinion of.
“Do you even stock pink?” Lacey asked.
“Luckily, I had some stuff left over from last season,” Taryn replied. “In that dusky pink color that everyone went crazy for about five minutes. You should know the one I mean, you have a sweater in that color. Anyway, I had about five dresses, a pair of heels, and a couple of leather handbags in the same color that didn’t shift in the end of season sale. She loved them. Even the halter dress that anyone with breasts over a C-cup know is an absolute fashion no-no!” She sighed. “Some people can’t even buy style.”
Taryn herself was one of those rake-thin fashionistas without a hint of a curve. Today, she was wearing her signature little black dress, only this one had a plunging neckline that showed off her bony, breastless chest. She and Daisy were at the opposite ends of the style spectrum.
“Did she buy anything?” Lacey asked, thinking about the unpaid bills the other vendors on the street had ended up with.
“Yes, eventually. Five dresses, a pair of heels and a handbag. All in the same color.” She scoffed.
Lacey couldn’t help but think that Taryn’s disdain was uncalled for. No matter how annoying Daisy might have been during her stay in Wilfordshire, it was still uncalled for.
“How long was Daisy in here?” Lacey asked, trying to keep Taryn focused on the night in question.
“It seemed like forever. She was rude. Arrogant. I had to keep the store open well past closing time.”
“How late?” Lacey pressed.
Taryn whistled. “I dunno. Six? Seven? Something like that.”
Lacey wondered if the police had double-checked the times on the security footage, or if they’d just relied on Daisy and Taryn’s statements. People were notoriously bad at keeping track of the time, and Taryn might’ve accidentally exaggerated how long Daisy was in the store because it felt long. And Daisy obviously would’ve exaggerated how long she was in the store because it gave her an alibi. The difference between her leaving at six and her leaving at seven could be the difference in her having the window of opportunity to commit murder or not.
Working on the assumption that the police had corroborated the statements with the security camera footage clocks, then that would mean that Daisy wasn’t the killer, and Xavier had invented his sighting of her on the beach that night. Which made it even more likely that he was the killer. But then why return the sextant to her store? Could it really have played out the way Heidi, Gina and Tom imagined it had, that he knew the police would search him and had hidden the sextant in the only place he could think of?
“Lacey!” Taryn exclaimed, breaking through her ruminations. “Careful!”
Lacey looked down. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, her entire pile of folded silk blouses had slid to the floor.
*
When Lacey returned home, without Chester, exhausted and overwhelmed, she found a note on the kitchen counter. It was in Gina’s handwriting.
I hope we didn’t upset you earlier. Tom made quiche. There’s some in the fridge. Try to eat and get some sleep. I’m coming over at sunrise. We can look for Chester together.
Lacey smiled sadly and opened the fridge door. Tom had made his sundried tomato, goats cheese and pesto quiche, and half of it was left. Lacey grabbed the plate from the fridge and a clean fork from the utensils drawer, then took the entire lot upstairs into her bedroom. She quickly changed out of her clothes before getting into bed and tucking into the quiche. It tasted divine, but it didn’t comfort her as much as the feeling of Chester lying on her feet would. The bed felt too big and empty without him in it.
“Please come home,” she whispered to the space he should be in, as a tear streaked down her cheek.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Knock-knock-knock.
Lacey awoke with a start. She sat up, disorientated. It was barely daybreak, and everything was bathed in gray light.
Lacey looked around her bedroom, trying to orient herself. She was in bed. A plate covered in crumbs lay on the pillow beside her. Her feet were cold.
Knock-knock-knock.
Lacey suddenly remembered. Chester! Gina had left a note about coming over to help look for him!
Within seconds, she was up and out of bed. She grabbed the clothes she’d discarded in a heap by her bedside last night and hurriedly pulled them on. Then she was flying down the stairs, two at a time.
She ran to the back door, stooping down to grab her wellies off the shoe rack, while pulling the door open with her spare hand.
“Morning,” Gina said, sounding as if the sight of Lacey contorted position amused her.
Lacey shoved a foot hastily into a wellie. “Thanks for the note. And the quiche.”
Boudica bounded inside, nuzzling Lacey with excitement and almost causing her to lose her balance. She hopped around momentarily on one foot as she fought to stay upright. Then she steadied herself, and grappled with the other boot.
“Ready?” Gina asked.
Lacey grabbed her mac and Chester’s leash from its hook.
“Ready,” she said with a nod.
She swirled out into the brisk spring morning.
The pair of friends took the single track road that weaved through the cliffs, then strolled along the sidewalk toward town. Boudica kept her nose to the air, but there was no sign of Chester whatsoever.
When they reached the bottom of the high street, they realized that none of the cafes were open yet, and that they’d arrived before the breakfast shift. The only place open was the coffee shop to catch the early commuters, but Lacey was wary of the place after its owner had accused her of being a murderer. In fact, she’d not even set foot inside it after that day. But this was for Chester. She could swallow her pride for her beloved dog.
“I’m going in,” Lacey said, with determination.
“You’re brave,” Gina told her.
“Brave? More like desperate.”
Lacey pushed open the glass doors and entered the steamy cafe. Just her luck, it was the very lady at the counter who’d accused her. The woman did a double take when she saw who it was coming in.
“What do you want?” she asked, in a tone that suggested she was affronted.
Lacey held her hand up in truce position. “I just want to k
now if you’ve seen my dog, that’s all. He’s lost. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
The woman folded her arms and shot Lacey a withering look. “You mean, you’ve not seen him since you were arrested?”
Lacey felt her stomach tense. So the gossip had already spread. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d been hauled off in the police cruiser and already the town was whispering about her. Lacey felt tears welling in her eyes once again.
“Just let me know if you see him,” she mumbled, before hurrying out.
Back in the streets, Lacey made a beeline for Gina.
Her friend looked up. “Any luck?”
Lacey shook her head, and took her arm for support. She didn’t feel like telling Gina what had just transpired, so just said, “Let’s keep going.”
They headed down the high street, entering the stores that Lacey hoped would either not have heard the news about her arrest yet, or if they had, were kind enough not to give her the cold shoulder. Unfortunately, neither seemed to exist. Everyone had heard, and everyone was wary.
“This is just like last time,” Lacey said, feeling glum. “Only worse. Because now I don't even have Chester for company.”
It was at that moment that Lacey noticed a familiar face through the glass of one of the cafes.
“Tom?” she stammered, squinting to get a better look.
He was sat at a table nestled in the middle of the cafe, surrounded by other full tables, but he was not alone. There was another person with him. A woman. He was having breakfast with another woman.
Lacey staggered back as if the sight had physically pained her, and thudded into Gina’s back.
“What is it?” her friend asked.
“Tom…” Lacey said, pointing at the window. “He’s in there with another woman.”
“Oh,” Gina said simply, in a sad, sympathetic tone.
Lacey swirled on her heel and began marching down the high street. Boudica raced up beside her, and a moment later Gina appeared at her side as well, puffing and panting to keep up.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Heidi?” Gina said, as she trotted alongside her.
“His mom? She’s a strawberry blond! That woman was clearly a brunette.”
She spoke between her teeth, beyond furious. Tom had seemed so distracted over the last few days, and she’d put it down to how busy his store was at the moment. Had it been because of another woman all along?
Lacey’s own store came into view, and she felt the relief of knowing she’d soon be safe inside. But then she noticed the police car parked outside.
“What now?” Lacey exclaimed.
Her brisk stride turned it a jog as she hurried to find out what was going on. Poor Gina was left behind, neither fit enough nor stress-panicking enough to keep up.
When Lacey reached the car, she found DCI Beth Lewis leaning against its hood, a coffee cup in one hand. When she saw her, she uncrossed her legs. She’d evidently been waiting for Lacey’s arrival.
“What’s going on?” Lacey said through her panting breath. “Are you arresting me again?”
With an apologetic look on her face, DCI Lewis handed Lacey a slip of paper.
Lacey read it hurriedly, the letters dancing in front of her eyes with the trembling coming from her hands.
“I’m not allowed to open my store?” she exclaimed, looking up, aghast.
Beth shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry, Lacey. Superintendent Turner wants forensics in there to see if they can collect DNA to link Xavier to the theft, and possibly the murder.”
Lacey couldn’t believe it. She was stunned. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked, lamely.
Beth shrugged. “Just take the day off? Have a bath or something.”
Lacey fought the urge to shove her. What a stupid thing to say. It wasn’t like she was on a salary and could just skip work for fun. This was her livelihood!
She paced away from the store, heading back to Gina, who’d given up trying to catch up with her and had slowed to the pace of a snail.
“What’s going on, ducky?” her friend asked.
“My life is going down the toilet, that’s what’s going on,” Lacey stammered. “Come on, let’s go the beach route. We can check in with Brooke to see if Chester made it back to her tearoom.”
They headed up the high street, beelining for the beach.
As they went, Lacey felt her phone begin to vibrate in her pocket. Hopeful that it might be the microchipping company calling about Chester, she grabbed it and checked the caller ID. It was David.
What does he want? Lacey thought with a mental groan.
She answered the call, because there really wasn’t anything else the day could throw at her to make things worse. And maybe having a showdown with David would make her feel better?
“Yes?” she said hurriedly, the second she picked up the call.
“It’s customary to answer the phone with hello,” David said. “Or is that how they do it in England?”
Lacey paused. He didn’t sound as aggressive as he had recently. In fact, it sounded like he was in good spirits.
“What do you want?” Lacey asked. “Because whatever it is, it needs to be quick. I have to keep this line open in case the microchip company calls to say they've found my missing dog.”
“You have a dog?” David asked.
“Yes. But he’s gone missing.”
“I’m sorry. What’s his name?”
“David!” Lacey yelled, losing her patience.
“—You called your dog David?” he joked.
“—Why are you calling?” Lacey snapped.
On the other end of the line, she heard his intake of breath.
“I wanted to let you know that things are over between me and Eda.”
Lacey raised her eyebrows. “That was quick. What happened?”
“Nothing dramatic. We just realized we weren’t right for each other.”
“Ah. So the nineteen-year age gap came between you in the end?”
“Lace. Don’t mock me. I’m calling because… because this time apart has made me realize a lot of things. And one of the things I’ve realized is that we had it really good before. And I was an idiot to throw all that away. I think you should come home and try and make a go of it with me. We can get your dog a doggy passport and bring him over.”
Lacey listened to his monologue, a part of her brain genuinely considering it. Because what good had really come of her move to England? She’d gotten no closer to finding her father, and had ended up in a heap of trouble. She had the local police officers on speed dial, for goodness sake! She’d found a dog and lost him. Found a boyfriend and apparently lost him as well. And she was certain there was no way she’d be forgiven by the folks of Wilfordshire a second time. There was no way she wasn't losing her reputation this time.
All of those thoughts in Lacey’s mind was the reason why she found herself saying, “I’ll think about it.”
“You will?” David said, and the glee in his voice was audible. “Your mother will be thrilled.”
“I’m sure she will.”
Lacey realized then that she had Gina had traveled all the way to the other end of the high street, where the ocean and promenade were visible. The sight of the sea prompted a sudden brainwave in Lacey.
“The island!” she exclaimed.
On the other end of the line, she heard David’s voice saying, “Huh? Island? Or Ireland? What did you say?”
But Lacey wasn’t listening to him anymore. She was staring at Gina and Boudica.
“The island!” she cried again.
Gina’s eyes widened as it dawned on her what Lacey was trying to say.
“Of course!” she exclaimed, hopping from foot to foot. “Chester went to the island!”
Boudica, picking up on the sudden excitement from the human folk, started barking.
“Lacey?” came David’s voice. “Lacey is everything okay? What’s all that sho
uting and barking about? Are you being attacked? Do I need to call the cops?”
“I’m fine,” she told him, hurriedly. “I’ve got to go.”
She ended the call before he had a chance to say anything more, then together with Gina and Boudica, raced off toward the beach, feeling hopeful for the first time all day.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lacey stood at the shoreline, staring out across the ocean. The tide was high, with no sign of the sandbar. Across the waves, she could just make out the island, the place she was absolutely certain Chester must be. There were no police trawlers moored there anymore, nor any police tape. Their investigations on the island must be over.
Of course it is, Lacey thought sadly, because now they’re focusing on my store. And Xavier.
She still couldn’t quite believe that Xavier might be responsible. He didn’t seem the sort. But then again, who exactly did? Real murderers weren’t like the ones in stories, with hunchbacks and limps and clammy, pockmarked faces. In the real world, murderers looked like normal people. Like Xavier.
She shuddered and forced her mind back to the problem at hand: getting to the island.
“How are we going to get across?” she asked Gina.
“The sandbar won’t be out until the evening,” Gina said. “We’ll have to call Tom and ask him to bring down his boat.”
“No way,” Lacey said, as the memory of Tom having breakfast with the brunette flashed into her mind’s eye. “I am not getting Tom to play my knight in shining armor. There must be someone else we can ask. Come on Gina. You must know someone who owns a boat.”
Just then, Gina’s eyebrows rose up her forehead. “There is someone we could call.”
“Who?”
“The volunteer coast guards. I know all the lads from that time I got stuck on the island. Nice bunch of fellas.”
“Would they help us? I thought they were there to rescue fishermen in distress. This isn’t exactly an emergency.”
“I don’t know,” Gina said. “They might tell us to hop it. But, on the other hand, they might fancy taking the boat out for a spin. It’s not like they get much use out of it. If it’s been a quiet week, they might fancy it. Here, hand me your phone. It’s worth a shot.”