Motts exchanged a look with Nish when Vina vanished into the kayak shop. “That was obvious even to me.”
“Walking isn’t really her thing.” Nish grabbed his phone and pulled up a map. “If he left from Fowey, I’d wager he’s walking the circuit clockwise. Why don’t we head the opposite direction? Take the ferry over to Polruan, heading up the path counter-clockwise.”
“Meet him somewhere along the way?” Motts wanted to question him away from Callie. He might be more open. “Chase him down the trail?”
“Let’s hope chasing won’t be required. It’ll be difficult to explain if someone calls the police.” Nish made sure his vehicle was securely parked. “Ready?”
They grabbed water and went to catch the ferry back across to Polruan. Motts always appreciated Nish’s ability to enjoy silence; small talk wasn’t required. It helped her relax.
“Motts.”
She glanced up when he gestured toward a familiar figure hanging out on the quay in Polruan, waiting for the ferry to dock. “Short walk.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t bolt before we can get off the ferry.” Nish led the way, allowing her to hide behind him. “Here’s hoping he doesn’t recognise me from coming into the café.”
They managed to get off the ferry and over to Ashby without him disappearing. He frowned in confusion at Nish, and his scowl only deepened when he noticed Motts. So, someone’s not ecstatic to see me again. I wish River was here.
“Fancy running into you again.” Ashby surprisingly broke the silence first. “Sorry I couldn’t stay the other day.”
“Shame.” Motts had forgotten all of the questions she’d practised. Typical. “Why were you arguing with Amy O’Connell?”
“She accused me of stealing.”
“Three years ago. So why go by her cottage now? I’d stay far away from someone who accused me of theft.” Motts glanced up at Nish. “It’s weird, right? Not just me being me.”
“Definitely on the odd side,” Nish agreed readily. He pointed down the street toward one of the shops. “Why don’t we head over to the tea shop? We can have tea and a snack while Ashby tells us what’s going on.”
“Mini quiche.” Motts loved the small quiches they served. River had brought a box of them to her a few weeks ago. “Food makes everyone feel better.”
“Randomly accurate statement.” Nish moved to the other side of Ashby. They walked the short trip down the street to the tea shop. “Why don’t we sit outside? Not too many people out at the moment.”
They found an empty table, got their teas and a variety of quiches. Ashby didn’t seem overly anxious to talk with them. He studiously ignored the questions Motts asked, keeping his mouth full to avoid responding.
When the next ferry arrived, Vina joined them. She’d be unable to suppress her curiosity. It didn’t make Ashby any more talkative, unfortunately.
He managed to converse for twenty minutes, responding to questions, yet never quite giving them answers. Motts ripped her napkin into tiny pieces. She’d hoped to get some clarification.
“I have a feeling our day is about to become far more complicated than you thought.” Nish brushed crumbs off his shirt.
Vina added, “I spy with my little eye someone whose name starts with a P.”
“P?”
“Detective Inspector Ash. You’re a long way from Polperro.” Vina waved at the man while he crossed the road from where he’d parked his vehicle. “Hello, Hughie. Fancy seeing you as well.”
“Why do I suddenly feel guilty?” Motts whispered to Nish. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We’re putting our noses into police business. I imagine that’s a lecture we’re about to receive.” Nish watched Hughie lead Ashby away to the vehicle. Detective Inspector Ash stayed by their table. “Is he under arrest?”
“What are you three doing here?” Inspector Ash appeared more exasperated than genuinely annoyed, though Motts wasn’t entirely sure. “And why are you chatting with our suspect?”
“Friendly people chat.” Vina snagged the last bite of quiche from her brother’s plate. “We’re welcoming him to the area.”
“The area? You’re in Fowey.” He turned away from the twins to focus on Motts. “Aren’t you too close to this investigation already? Both myself and DI Herceg hoped you’d steer clear until we’ve made an arrest. We want you to stay safe.”
“I’m having tea and quiche.” Motts didn’t understand why Vina started snickering. “What? I am? Perfectly safe occupation. What’s dangerous about a mid-morning snack?”
“Elevenses,” Nish interjected.
“More like second breakfast.” Vina offered her own two cents.
“You’re not hobbits.” Inspector Ash peered over his shoulder at Hughie, who’d returned from securing their suspect. “I suppose he’s at least part troll.”
“I’m a friendly giant.” Hughie made a point of standing as tall as possible to emphasise his height. “Did you three discover anything useful?”
“Constable.” Inspector Ash sighed when the constable simply shrugged.
“Ashby had a heated conversation with Amy O’Connell the other day,” Motts blurted. She blocked Vina’s attempt to pinch her on the arm. “What? We’re not actually detectives. They’re the ones who can catch the killer.”
Even if we have to help them along just a little.
Hughie crouched down next to Motts. “Teo’s waiting for us at the station. He did want me to say he’ll stop by to see you later.”
Bugger.
“Somebody’s in trouble,” Vina teased.
Chapter Twenty
“Why do you think, Cactus?” Motts held up her finished quilling piece. She’d spent a painstaking amount of time with tweezers and glue, adjusting the scrolls of paper into place. Of the various aspects, she’d found the finicky balloons above the bicycle to be the most difficult to get right. “Yes, it’s bright and cheerful. Perfect for the birthday girl.”
Despite Hughie’s warning, Teo hadn’t stopped by for either a friendly chat or an official lecture. She wondered if they’d cracked the case. Had Ashby been involved?
“Knock, knock.”
“I’m taking your key away from you.” Motts didn’t shift her attention from gently packing up the framed artwork. “Since you’re here, want to give me a lift? I need to deliver this to Plymouth.”
“Plymouth?” River drooped dramatically against the kitchen counter. “It’s an hour with good traffic. And when is traffic any good during the summer?”
“I’ll buy you lunch at Toot.” Motts dangled the carrot in front of her cousin’s nose. He’d been going on about wanting to try the Persian restaurant for ages. “Falafel falls freely from….”
“Run out of f words?”
“You’re not funny. Oh, there’s one.”
“Fine. I’ll brave the traffic for a falafel. You’re buying.” He bent down to scratch Cactus behind the ear. “How about you? Want to go for a ride?”
“Probably best to leave him to guard the cottage.” Motts knew Cactus wasn’t overly thrilled with lengthy excursions in the vehicle. She’d tried having him ride in the basket of her bicycle once. Never again. They’d both been traumatised. “Can we go now? I’ve geared myself up for small talk with a client. Best to get it over with while I’m mentally prepared.”
They miraculously hit just one mild traffic jam on the way to Plymouth. River had chosen to drive the shortest, most direct route. Motts was relieved when she managed to drop off the quilled art without having to use any of her practised conversation.
“So, falafels?” River chuckled when she practically melted with relief into the passenger seat. “Not as scary as you feared?”
“Falafels.”
Sitting down for lunch at Toot, they got a sharing platter of starters. Motts particularly enjoyed freshly baked bread and houmous; River inhaled the cinnamon-flavoured ground lamb meatballs. The two barely had room for sticky, sweet baklava.
Th
ey made room.
Always room for dessert.
After eating way too much for an early lunch, they decided to return to Polperro. River had to get to work at the brewery. Motts had an afternoon in the garden planned out.
Weeds wouldn’t pull themselves.
“River.” Motts had noticed a familiar white van slipping in behind them when they went around the roundabout near Kernow Mill. “Coincidence. Right?”
“Do you believe in coincidences? Not sure I do.” River gripped the steering wheel tightly. He kept glancing up at the rear-view mirror. “Definitely Jasper.”
Motts tugged on her seat belt and then yanked down on the collar of her shirt. Breathe. It’s going to be fine. He couldn’t have been waiting for us. No one knew where we were going. “Should we call someone?”
“And tell them what? Jasper’s following us? He’ll tell them he’s heading back home, which might be true.” River sped up the vehicle. “We’ll see if he keeps up with us.”
He did.
“River.”
“I see him.” He bent forward slightly, his hands still holding too tight to the steering wheel. “Maybe he’s trying to scare us.”
“He’s succeeding.” Motts wondered if Amy had told her son about them coming by the cottage. Or had Mikey confronted his brother? “Speeding speedily.”
“Short and succinct.” River managed a tense smile. “You might send Hughie a message. See if our gentle troll will meet us at the top of the village.”
On the surface, a commercial van driving on the road behind them shouldn’t have induced fear. Motts knew they’d never be able to explain to the police. She couldn’t quite calm her heart rate down.
Jasper revved his engine behind them. He sped up enough to be practically riding on their bumper. His lights flashed at them while he honked his horn.
“Does he want us to pull over?” Motts wondered.
“I am not pulling over unless I see a police vehicle.” River’s voice shook. “We’ll be fine.”
“You sound like you’re talking through a fan blade.” She twisted in her seat to get a better view of the van behind them. “How is flashing his lights going to do anything? You’re going over the speed limit, so that’s not the issue.”
Jasper’s aggressive driving continued to escalate. The van edged closer and closer to them, despite River trying to increase the distance between the vehicles. Motts held her breath, expecting the hit anytime.
River cursed under his breath. He tried to overtake the person in front, but oncoming traffic forced him back into the lane. “Did Hughie respond to you yet?”
“No.” Motts sent another text to the constable, one slightly more panicked and demanding. “Maybe he’s got his phone turned off?”
All the way through the narrow two-lane roads, Jasper rode their bumper. Motts had never been so grateful to see the familiar curve that signalled the turn towards the village. She wondered what passing vehicles thought of the strange behaviour from the van.
Surely someone had noticed the aggressive driving.
“I don’t understand why he’s doing this.” Motts’s breath caught in her throat when stopped traffic drew her attention. She thrust her hand out instinctively as River slammed on his brakes. “Oh my god.”
“Hold—”
A sudden screech of tires cut off River’s warning. With the weight of his commercial van and how close they’d been, Jasper clearly couldn’t stop in time. He swerved wildly into the opposite lane of traffic, tipping the van onto its side and sliding straight into them.
River threw his arm out in front of Motts, trying to protect her when the impact threw them both forward. “Sodding berk.”
Motts was only capable of breathing.
And barely capable of doing that.
“Motts? Love?” River twisted in his seat, yanking his seat belt off. He reached a hand out to gently grasp her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She heard him, yet her brain refused to formulate a response. It was like someone had shoved cotton into her ears. Everything sounded muffled, including her own thoughts.
“Easy, there. Try to slow your breathing.” River ran his fingers gently across her shoulder and neck. “Does this hurt?”
Motts shook her head slowly. She tried to ignore the cacophony of sound beginning to pick up outside of their car. “Fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“Fine.”
“Not actually fine.” River unbuckled her seat belt. “We should get out of the car. Does your neck or back hurt?”
“Fine.” Motts closed her eyes, trying to not only regulate her breathing but settle her mind. She had a feeling finding her words would be a good thing. “Fine.”
I’m fine.
Fine.
Just fine.
Completely and totally not actually fine.
“I’m getting out of the car. You should stay here until paramedics arrive. I’m worried about your neck.” River frowned when she reached for the door handle. “Motts.”
“I’m fine.” Oh, look, I managed an extra word. Progress.
Despite her cousin’s protests, Motts climbed out of the vehicle. She whistled at the state of it. The entire back of his car had been crushed in by the force of the impact.
“Motts.” River stepped around to stand in front of her. “It’s like the scene in Terminator.”
“What’s a terminator?”
“Never mind. Oh, thank the copper gods.”
“Copper gods? As in the metal or the police?” Motts was glad words were coming back. Now if the rest of her mind would focus, she might make sense of things and stop being unnecessarily pedantic. “I see Hughie.”
Wandering away from the wreckage, Motts found a clear, dry spot of grass to sit down on. She wondered how long it would take for her mum to use the accident as yet another reason for her to move back to London. Never going to happen.
“I’m beginning to sense a trend.” Hughie whistled while inspecting the damaged vehicles. He stepped to River. “We’ll get a tow truck out for these. Neither of them’s going to be driven out of here.”
Leaving him to handle things, Motts assessed her injuries. None. She had a slight tenderness in her chest from the seat belt but nothing else. No twinges in her back or neck, thankfully.
“Paramedics should be here shortly. They’re driving over from Looe. They’ll want to check all of you out.” Hughie ignored Motts’s protests. He’d already had a brief chat with several of the witnesses. “You don’t have to go to the hospital. Just let them assess the situation. Young Jasper claims he lost control.”
“Jasper’s not that young. And he did lose control.” Motts didn’t believe “lost control” fully described the accident. “He followed us practically all the way from Plymouth. Thought he was trying to run us off the road.”
Hughie came over and crouched in front of her. He kept his voice down to avoid being heard by the others. “I’ve a decent case for reckless and aggressive driving against him. Not much else. I can’t prove what caused him to follow too closely.”
“Figures.” Motts wrapped her arms around herself. “Can I go home now?”
“Not until the paramedics check you out,” he insisted.
Whatever her misfortune, Motts had the singular good luck to escape serious injury no matter the situation. The paramedics deemed her to be fine. They weren’t so sure about Jasper, given the violence of his crash.
“I’ll wait for the tow truck. Dad’s on his way to give me a lift. Why don’t you have Hughie take you home?” River handed over her bag and the crushed container of food. “Not sure this is good for much now. Maybe compost? Cactus might like smashed scones.”
“Cactus has standards.” Motts glanced toward Constable Stone, who appeared busy. “I’ll walk home.”
“Motts.”
“River.” She stared down her cousin. “I’ve had quite enough of cars for one day. I’ll be perfectly safe walking through the village, given
how crowded it is.”
With the growing number of tourists exploring the village, Motts managed to sneak through to the narrow steps leading up the hill to her cottage. She’d been afraid Marnie or one of the Griffins would spot her. Closing the door on the world had never felt so good.
“I’m never going outside again. Ever.” Motts rested against the locked door. She smiled down at Cactus, who rubbed against her leg and purred loudly. “Well, okay, maybe just for today we’ll hide from everyone.”
Meow.
“Yes, you do deserve a treat for keeping the house safe.” She deserved one as well.
With tea made and a plate of biscuits along with a treat for Cactus, Motts ensconced herself in the chair by the window. She drew one of the blankets from the couch across her lap.
A quiet evening was not on the cards. Motts had sat down with her tea when her doorbell rang. She ignored it.
They’ll go away.
They didn’t. Ringing turned to knocking. Motts forced herself out of the comfortable armchair and blankets, trudged to the door, and yanked it open.
“Your hair is flat.”
“Can we talk?” Callie’s spiked hair was significantly squashed. She held up a gaudy necklace. The design seemed straight out of one of the costume dramas Motts’s mum enjoyed watching. “It’s about Ashby.”
Tea had been made. Biscuits eaten. Motts held the rather heavy necklace with what appeared to be diamonds and rubies; she had no idea why.
“Gaudy goods grace girls’ gowns.” Motts inspected the engraved word on the tag on the clasp. “NO.”
“I believe it’s N.O. Initials for—”
“Nadine O’Connell,” Motts guessed. “Why do you have this?”
“Ash’s bag.” Callie shifted uncomfortably. She gulped down some of her tea. “Snooped when the cops picked him up. Couldn’t help myself. It was underneath his pants along with a few other trinkets. I picked him up from the station yesterday. He hasn’t noticed it missing so far.”
“How? Hard to miss, given how heavy the thing is.” Motts deftly shifted the necklace away from Cactus, who tried to swipe at one of the larger gems. “Police might want this for evidence. Why are you bringing this to me?”
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