“Ms Mottley?”
She twisted around to the London detective approaching. “Motts, Inspector. Everyone calls me Motts aside from my mother. Are you here for coffee?”
Vina groaned loudly into her hand. “Silver. Fox.”
“DI Byrne.” Teo strode across the café with his hand outstretched. “Thought you’d headed back to London?”
“Cold cases are my area of expertise. Ms Mottley has kindly agreed to help with the case involving her childhood friend. And since I’m in Cornwall, I may as well offer my assistance to the local detectives.” Inspector Byrne took Teo’s hand. “Perry Ash filled me in on the details.”
“Did he?”
“What are they doing?” Motts whispered to Vina and Nish, who were still behind the counter. The two detectives were having the longest handshake she’d ever seen. Neither of them had stepped back. “Is this some weird police ritual?”
“It’s not a copper thing.” Vina snickered.
“What does that even mean?” Motts frowned at her ex-girlfriend. “Why are neurotypicals so strange?”
Nish patted her shoulder. “They’re communicating.”
“Right.” Motts decided she didn’t care what they meant.
Chapter Four
“I fancy ice cream.” Motts had finished her morning routine. Breakfast? Check. Fed and walked the little creatures? Done. Responded to emails after hiding from them? Mostly accomplished. She made sure both her cat and turtle were set up for being home alone. “Don’t let any stray felines into the house. I’m trusting you to keep Moss safe.”
Gathering up her bag and the small camera her uncle Tomato had gotten for her as a present, Motts decided to trek down to Talland Bay. The small beach on the west tended to be quiet even in the middle of a busy Cornish summer.
I’ll have to thank the London inspector. I needed a little push to get me out of the cottage and exploring again. Maybe he’ll be able to solve Jenny’s murder after all.
The weather had cooled slightly even with the bright sunlight. Motts opted for the shorter route along Bridals Lane. It wouldn’t do for cycling, not on her bike; too many slippery rocks to traverse.
Changing out of her trainers into a sturdier hiking shoe, Motts headed outside. She’d texted River to invite him to meet her in Talland Bay in two hours. Her cousin always enjoyed skiving off work for a visit to the beach, and Motts figured that after a dip of her toes in the water, she could indulge in a lovely ice cream from the nearby café. She locked up the cottage and took obsessive care in setting the security system. Cactus and Moss mattered more to her than anything.
She made her way up Talland Hill to Bridals Lane. The picturesque hedge-lined single-lane road tapered down to a trail, veering off to the right. She went slowly to avoid slipping.
The foliage rose up on either side of the lane. It was lush, green, and almost claustrophobic. Trees towered above her, blocking the sun from practically blinding her.
Dodging the trickle of water flowing down the middle of the lane, Motts continued down before emerging out at Talland Bay. She took a moment to breathe in the salty sea air while the wind blew her hair wildly behind her. It had definitely been worth the hour-long walk.
She grabbed a cup of tea from the Talland Bay Beach Café, promising herself an ice cream for the trip home. One lone couple sat on the sand to the far left of the beach. She made her way along the right to clamber up on some rocks to sit and watch the slowly rising tide.
After finishing up her tea, Motts clambered off the rocks. The tide was beginning to inch too close for comfort. She had no intentions of going for a swim.
Returning to the café, Motts ordered a brie and cranberry panini. She got a top-up of her tea as well. One of the small sheds with picnic tables to the side of the restaurant was free, so she slipped inside to enjoy her sandwich in peace.
“Hello, yon tiny Pineapple.” Her uncle gave a dramatic flourish of a bow. He enjoyed acting as though life were a stage for him. “Enjoying the sea?”
“Uncle Tomato.” Motts peered around, but her cousin was nowhere to be seen. “Is River okay?”
“His mum insisted on his helping her at the brewery.” He sat across from at her. “Have you had an ice cream yet?”
Tom Mottley was her dad’s younger brother. He ran Chen-Mottley brewery with his wife, Lily, and their son, River; they lived next door to her grandparents. Her uncle and auntie had met in Singapore while students and fallen in love. She’d called him Uncle Tomato for as long as she could remember.
“River showed me your text message, and I never turn down good ice cream.” He gave her a broad smile. “He couldn’t tell his mum no.”
“Only child problems.” Motts knew all about dealing with a full force of parental interest with no distractions. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I am working. Dessert beer?”
Motts frowned at her uncle, trying to decipher if he was teasing her. She feigned a chuckle just in case it was a joke. Better to laugh than have him staring at her for not doing so. “Sounds vile.”
“Only teasing, love.” He reached across the table to pat her hand. “Why don’t we grab our ice creams and walk along the beach? Then I can give you a lift home while you tell me all about this new mystery you’ve discovered.”
“Who told?”
“It’s Cornwall, tiny Pineapple. A woman floating in the sea makes the news no matter how quiet the police try to keep it.” He winked at her and smiled, reminding her of her dad for a moment. “Well? Are you putting out your detective shingle? Your gran will be so proud. You know her and your granddad are wondering when you’ll come round next.”
“Uncle Tomato,” Motts groaned. “I’m not going to be a private detective.”
“Might be fun.”
“Dead bodies aren’t fun.” She took the last bite of her sandwich. “Teo and Perry are the detectives.”
“Tell you what. Ice cream. Home. And I’ll have plenty of time to convince you how capable and brilliant you are.” He tapped her chin when she turned away toward the sea. “Okay. I’ll stop embarrassing you. What flavour treat are you having?”
“They’ve got in a new flavour from Roskilly’s. Cream Tea Ice Cream.” Motts gathered up the remnants from her early lunch. “They also have toffee and hazelnut, your favourite.”
After procuring their ice cream, they strolled along the beach. Motts grew increasingly uneasy as more people came to enjoy the sunshine and sea breezes. Her uncle looped his arm around her shoulders to guide her toward his car; she got in, and thankfully he let her doze in silence the entire way home to Polperro.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He slowed to a stop outside of her cottage. He reached into the back to grab a Tupperware container. “Your auntie made biscuits for you. The lemon-ginger spiced ones. And my River wanted to remind you about the YouTube night?”
Motts had to laugh at the slightly confused tone to her uncle’s voice. “I don’t watch telly, so we have a playlist of YouTube videos that we watch instead of having a movie night.”
“Kids these days.”
“You were drinking beer behind the pub and stealing fish from the market. I think eating snacks and watching videos is mild in comparison.” She clutched the container of biscuits to her chest. “Drive safely, Uncle Tomato.”
“Enjoy your biscuits. Better hide them, or River and Nish will eat the lot.” He gave her an awkward hug in the vehicle. “Off you go. There’s a special one in there for Cactus as well.”
Watching her uncle drive off, Motts finally turned around to head into the cottage. She checked to make sure Monty, her bicycle, was still secured by the side of the house. I’m going to need to tidy the front garden at some point. It’s a bit of a mess.
“Hello, Cactus.” Motts found him sitting on the little table by the front door waiting for her. “Did you enjoy your morning?”
Meow.
“I had a lovely walk.” Motts wandered through the living room to check
on Moss. “I found a new rock on the beach for you. Here. What do you think?”
Meow.
“I didn’t forget you.” Motts retrieved the crumpled-up paper she’d gotten at the café. She tossed it on the floor. “Pounce away. And a little tomato told me that there’s a treat for you in this container.”
With a happy chirp, Cactus chased the paper along the wooden floor. Motts watched him play for several minutes. The siren call of chai drew her into the kitchen.
Taara Khatri, Vina’s current girlfriend, had travelled recently to Lahore from London for business and had brought a special brand of ginger and cardamom chai back with her. Motts had already drunk her way through half of the tea. She hoped Taara made another trip soon.
Waiting for the electric kettle to heat up, Motts explored the contents of her fridge. YouTube night meant snacks. Lots of them. The twins would scavenge around the bakery; River would probably grab something from his mum’s after work.
Boys.
The evening always happened at Motts’s cottage because she could relax. They’d attempted to gather at Nish and River’s place, but she’d left within an hour. Lesson learned.
With a cup of chai and a few ginger biscuits, Motts got settled at her kitchen table to work. She’d been commissioned to make a quilled violin for a birthday present. Quilling always helped her relax; something about gently arranging scrolled slips of paper into beautiful art eased the tension in her soul.
From her original sketch, Motts had lined out the violin itself with a stark white paper. She filled in the empty space in the shadow box with a series of scrolled filigree in shades of brown and gold. All she had left was to finish up the last few details.
Her doorbell rang several hours later. Motts carefully closed the shadow box on her finished art. It wouldn’t do for Cactus to ruin it now, the mischievous feline.
“Amma made medhu vadai for us.” Vina squeezed by Motts into the cottage when she opened the door. Nish and River followed after her. “Loads of them. They’re still crispy, fresh from the fryer.”
“She wouldn’t let us steal any of the fritters,” River complained. He gave Motts a quick hug. “Mum had these steamed pork baos hanging around. I grabbed a few.”
“He grabbed all of them. Pretty sure your auntie’s going to have words with us.” Nish carried a paper bag of his own. “Nothing as fancy from me. I picked up my weight in chips from the Salty Seaman. Innis might be a grumpy bastard, but he makes the best fried, greasy potato strips of joy in Cornwall.”
Three hours later, the boys had headed home, taking all the leftover food. Motts and Vina sat in relative silence. They’d watched a playlist of funny videos from both the React and Try channels.
Vina was stretched out on the sofa with her head resting on a cushion. “Just us girls.”
“And Cactus.”
“Sorry, Cactus.” Vina nudged the cat sleeping by her feet. “Us girls and a succulent.”
“And Moss.”
“Mustn’t forget the turtle,” Vina teased. “Can I continue?”
“I don’t know.”
Vina dropped her head against the couch. “Pineapple Meg Mottley. Must you be so literal and pedantic?”
“Yes,” she answered truthfully.
“What do you say we crash a funeral?” Vina got straight to the point instead of teasing her further. “Marnie heard from Peggy Shine at her shop who spoke with one of the O’Connells. The family are having a small service at the church in the morning. Not sure it’s a burial; I think they’re just having a celebration of life or whatever it’s called.”
“And?”
“We could go. Meet the family. Ask a few subtle questions about their poor departed Nan.” Vina completely ignored Motts when she began to shake her head emphatically. “Aren’t you curious to know how she wound up in the sea?”
“More curious to why she seemed only hours dead. How, if she went missing years ago?” Motts admitted. “And why now?”
“Both excellent questions.” Vina sat up and leaned forward with her elbows resting on her legs. “Marnie’s going. I can put together a little box of treats from the café. We can be concerned neighbours.”
“Nosy neighbours.”
“We live in a tiny village.” Vina grinned at her. “All neighbours are nosy.”
Chapter Five
“Ready?” Vina had strong-armed Motts out of her cottage into a car early the next morning. The drive to the church hadn’t taken long; short enough they could’ve walked, but Vina hadn’t wanted to risk ruining her dress. “We’re presentable enough.”
“For what?” Motts tried to pry Vina’s fingers off her arm. “Where’s Marnie?”
“Last-minute appointment with a panicky bride.” Vina steered her through the gate toward the doors. “Hurry. We don’t want to be late. We might miss something important.”
“I can’t do this.” Motts jerked away from Vina and fled around the opposite side of the building. She ducked behind a stone sign when two angry, arguing men blocked her path. “I want to be at home.”
Who argues at a funeral?
“Please don’t make a scene, Jasper. Think about Mum.” The younger of the two men seemed to be trying to calm the other down. They were dressed for the funeral, appearing to be in their twenties. “She won’t want to see her sons arguing while we’re burying Gran.”
“Think about Mum? Bit rich. When the bloody hell has she thought about us? Sod off, Mikey.” Jasper shoved his brother against the wall of the church. “Why don’t you be a good boy and leave me alone?”
“Let’s just get through this circus, and you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.” Mikey stomped by his brother, who followed him.
After waiting a few seconds to ensure they’d gone, Motts snuck away from the church. She made her way through the village and climbed wearily up the narrow staircase that led up the hill to her street. Vina knew her well enough to not follow.
“Motts?”
She paused on the last step and contemplated rolling back down the staircase. “No.”
“Miss Mottley?” Detective Inspector Byrne sounded concerned and confused. She didn’t have the energy to glance up at him.
“No.” Motts slipped by him into the cottage and closed the door. She slid to the floor, sitting with her back against the solid wood. “No.”
What did River say about breathing?
Why do I always panic like this?
Right. Breathe in. One, two, three, four, five. Out. One, two, three, four, five. I can do this. I can.
Riding out the intense energy from a meltdown, Motts rubbed her arms roughly, trying to stop the odd sensation of electricity under her skin. Just keep breathing. Cactus sidled up next to her. He curled up in her lap, offering comfort.
Over an hour later, a knock jolted her out of her doze on the floor. Motts got slowly to her feet, trying to ease the kinks out of her legs. She opened the door to find no one on the other side.
“Hello?” She peered around and saw no one, but found a larger paper cup and a cloth-covered basket on her doorstep. “What?”
Taking the lid off the cup, Motts sniffed cautiously and recognised the scent of Nish’s special spiced café mocha. He made it especially for her, usually on days when she’d had a meltdown. How had he known?
Motts carried the basket and coffee into the cottage. She kicked the door shut behind her once Cactus had raced down the hall. “Maybe we’ll find a treat for you as well?”
Meow.
Underneath the cloth napkin, Motts found a note in Nish’s neat handwriting. Had a few words with Vina about pushing you when she knows she shouldn’t. The silver fox of a detective from London came around to see if I could help. He also text messaged Teo. Can you believe it? I’ll come round later with River to check on you. Remember to breathe.
Setting the note to one side, Motts found a selection of what was clearly the café’s baked offerings for the day. She sank down on one of the kitchen chairs
, drawing her legs up underneath her. It had been a while since anxiety had gotten the best of her.
She wondered what Teo’s response would be. He’d been a little distant in the past few weeks. She’d decided not to let it worry her; detectives had a lot on their plate.
She had no doubts the exhaustion that always followed a meltdown would kick in soon. Nish knew her well enough to have provided food requiring no effort on her part. She grabbed a curry-spiced chocolate croissant and her coffee, deciding to enjoy the lovely gesture.
Cactus leapt up on the table and inched over to her. He stretched out on his back, staring up at her with curious eyes. Motts dug into the basket to find a cat-friendly treat; she came out triumphantly with a little tuna roll made specifically for him.
“I knew they wouldn’t forget.” She set the treat down for him. “Off you go. Show your prize to Moss.”
Her cat and turtle had a great affinity for each other. Motts was convinced they gossiped together. Cactus certainly spent a massive amount of time beside Moss’s terrarium.
With her coffee and croissant, Motts wandered into the living room. She curled up on the sofa under her weighted blanket. The wind had picked up, so she allowed her mind to settle while watching clouds drift across the blue Cornish sky.
One of the advantages of having moved to Cornwall over living in London was her mother no longer smothered her with care. If Motts had a bad day, she had the time and space to recover. She’d discovered retreating into the solitude of her cottage did wonders.
Motts came out of her daze by late afternoon. She’d ignored the beeping of her phone signalling text messages. If it was a real emergency, they’d call.
They’ll call. I’ll ignore it, but at least I’ll know to check my messages.
Content to continue watching the garden through the window, Motts didn’t move until after the sun had set. She got up when someone knocked on the door. I’m surprised Vina stayed away this long. I suppose I’ll have to deal with the drama now.
Pierced Peony Page 3