“I wasn’t even in Belfrey at the time of the murder,” she said, her words coming out more defensive than she would have liked.
Jack shrugged. “Got nothing to worry about, then, have you?”
Keeley wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, but was saved from responding by the arrival of Tom with tea and a limp-looking sandwich. Keeley smiled at him and he stared at her for a minute, then gave her a slow, unfocused smile of his own before sloping off. Jack shook his head at Tom’s retreating figure.
“Course, it could have been anyone,” he said suddenly. Keeley swallowed her bite of sandwich—which, in spite of its limp appearance, had the texture of cardboard—and looked at him in puzzlement.
“Terry’s murderer,” the old man clarified. “No one liked him, you see. Mean man, had a nasty streak in him, I reckon.”
Keeley nodded. Annie had said as much, albeit more diplomatically. Although she wouldn’t wish his end on anyone, the fact that Smith didn’t seem to be well liked did hint that his unfortunate demise was due to someone’s having a grudge against him, rather than against Keeley or her family. Perhaps rather than Terry interrupting the arsonist, the killer had attempted to cover the evidence with a fire. It made a great deal more sense, considering that the murder must have happened first. The burning of her shop then would have been a cover-up attempt that had unfortunately just happened to be on her premises.
Of course, that didn’t explain why on earth Terry Smith and his killer had been there in the first place. Keeley sat back in her chair, deflated that her theory didn’t stack up quite so neatly after all.
“Do you have any idea who might have done it?” she asked Jack. He shook his head sharply, looking around as if afraid of being overheard, though there was no one else in the pub other than a few youths by the pool table in the far corner and two middle-aged men drinking bitter in the other.
“No,” Jack said, “and it wouldn’t do for people to go around accusing people, either. Belfrey’s a small town, you see. Gossip gets around.”
“Does everyone think it’s me?” Keeley blurted. Jack seemed to think about his answer for a few moments, which didn’t reassure her.
“I reckon not,” he said finally. “Though it’s a bit strange, all the same.”
Keeley shifted in her seat uneasily. If Jack Tibbons, who had known her since she was tiny and who had been a dear friend of her father’s, didn’t seem completely convinced of her innocence, then what could she expect from anyone else? She thought about Raquel’s less-than-friendly welcome. Although the other woman hadn’t even mentioned the murder, seeming more interested in the prospect of Keeley setting herself up as a business rival. She told Jack about her encounter with her old friend, leaving off the part where Raquel had spitefully alluded to her high school nickname. Jack pulled a face.
“She’s a right sort, that girl. All fur coat and no knickers, if you ask me.”
Keeley laughed in surprise at the old saying, coughing on the piece of sandwich in her mouth. She took a sip of tea to wash it down and grinned at Jack, who smiled back, a wicked glint in his rheumy eyes.
Looking at the clock, Keeley remembered she had a date with Duane in a few hours and had wanted to visit Megan’s shop before returning home. She swigged the last of her tea and said good-bye to Jack, who gave her an affectionate wink, and waved at Tom, who, although he was apparently looking right at her, appeared not to notice.
As she made her way to Crystals and Candles, she had to walk past Raquel’s Diner, a pretty-looking place with a cheerful poppy stencil in the window and red-checked drapes that matched the cloths on the two small tables outside. Through the window that made up the shop front, Keeley could see the interior was busy, though Raquel herself sat in the corner, drinking from what looked like a champagne flute, with two young male customers hanging on her every word. Like a queen holding court. The menu boards outside offered traditional food: a full English breakfast, steak and ale pie, and the famous Codnor cod. There was unlikely to be fierce competition between the traditional diner and her own Yoga Café, but Keeley did remember Raquel as being highly competitive at school. Not that any rivalry had included Keeley back then, as she hadn’t been high enough on the social scale to matter.
Keeley smelled Crystals and Candles before she saw it. The door was open, and the heavy smell of a musk-based incense wafted down the street. Keeley entered, pushing through the velvet strips that lined the doorway, into a shop that looked more like a fairies’ grotto. Crystals of all shapes, sizes, and colors lined one wall; candles, the other. A selection of the candles was lit, causing the crystals to twinkle a rainbow of colored lights. In the middle of the shop, a large table offered all manner of New Age knickknacks, from tarot cards to angel statuettes. Megan sat behind a velvet-draped counter, perched on a stool, though she jumped up with a shriek of delight when she saw Keeley, coming round from behind the till and giving her an enthusiastic hug, which Keeley returned awkwardly.
“So nice to see you again! Would you like anything to drink?” Megan waved at a selection of herbal teas in front of her, and Keeley nodded, picking a brand she recognized from New York.
“Yes, thank you. I just thought I’d pop by.”
“Make yourself at home. It’s been quiet today, so I may as well lock up. Are you meeting Duane tonight? He’s done nothing but talk about you!”
“Really?” Keeley blushed, feeling more embarrassed than flattered. Megan thankfully didn’t seem to require an answer as she disappeared into the back room to make the tea, chattering all the while. Keeley sat down, the incense making her feel light-headed.
“I suppose you’ve heard about the body?” Keeley asked as Megan came back out, then winced at the abruptness of her own words, which somehow sounded harsher in the otherworldly atmosphere of Megan’s shop.
Megan pursed her lips and nodded.
“Yes, of course, but we didn’t want to mention it. You must be terribly upset. I always did say that man had a very dark aura, but karma catches up with us all, you know.” Megan nodded sagely. Ignoring the other girl’s slightly strange conception of karma, Keeley leaned forward over the counter.
“You knew him, then?”
“Only by sight. He was hardly the type to come in here, and to be honest, I wouldn’t have wanted him to.” She shuddered as if the very thought of Terry’s dark aura had poisoned the serene atmosphere she was trying to create.
“Was he really that bad?” Keeley wondered aloud. In spite of the sympathetic article in the local press, so far no one seemed to have a good word for the man. Megan sipped her tea and gave a worldly wise sigh.
“Some people just have a darkness around them, a negativity. It makes you feel drained being around them. Psychic vampires, they’re called. Terry always struck me as that sort of person.”
“Right.” Although Keeley wasn’t sure she bought into Megan’s spiritual beliefs, she knew exactly what the woman meant about people’s ability to leave you feeling emotionally drained. She often felt that way when she was around her mother.
“Why in your café, though?” Megan pondered. Keeley took a long gulp of her tea, completely unable to answer the very question she had asked herself for the last two days. Why indeed?
KAPALABHATI—INVIGORATING BREATH
Will reenergize you when you’re feeling lethargic. Also great for clearing the sinuses.
Method
• Sit comfortably, and consciously relax the abdominal muscles.
• Inhale and exhale slowly through your nose.
• Inhale deeply, then exhale through your nose in short, sharp bursts as you contract your stomach muscles—almost as if you are “pumping out” the breath through the nose.
• Continue inhaling deeply and pumping out the exhalation, up to twenty times. Then take a long, slow inhalation, and exhale through the nose to finish.
• The whole exercise can be repeated three times if you are feeling very sluggish or “bunged up” or both.
Kapalabhati literally means “shining skull” because of its invigorating effect. It is also sometimes referred to as “bellows breath,” due to the pumping motion and sound of the exhalation. Probably not one to try in public.
Chapter Five
After leaving Megan to lock up, Keeley took the bus back to Rose Cottage, trying to head off thoughts of the unfortunate Terry Smith by pondering a more mundane question. What to wear? Her impending “date” with Duane wasn’t filling her with as much excited anticipation as perhaps it should. Every time she tried to picture his handsome, almost pretty face and undeniably buff body, she instead saw Ben Taylor’s intense green eyes with their cool, uncompromising gaze. When it came to the inevitable trying-on of outfits, somehow Keeley found herself wondering what Ben would think. Holding up a red fitted dress that clung to every yoga-toned curve, she thought with a flash of rare pride that there was no way he could fail to notice her now.
She settled for her new jeans and a checked blouse. After all, she hardly wanted to give Duane—or the villagers—the wrong idea. After curling her hair and applying a touch more eyeliner than usual, she found herself pacing the cottage restlessly, waiting until it was time to leave. What had seemed a good idea the other night after a glass of wine was less appealing now, but it would feel rude to back out. What was the harm in a quiet drink?
As soon as she walked into the inn, she wanted to run back out. It was busier than it had been last time, and she could feel the gazes raking over her as she walked up to the bar. The barman made eye contact with her for a change, but only to ask, loudly enough for anyone in the small room to hear:
“You’re the girl who took Rose Cottage on? Same as owns the place Terry was killed? Bad business, that.”
Keeley smiled, attempting to look as friendly and nonthreatening as possible, though she could feel a tightness in her jaw. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw more than a few heads turning their way.
“Yes, it’s horrible. I only hope they catch whoever was responsible.”
The barman shrugged.
“Your place, though, isn’t it. How did they get in?”
Keeley opened her mouth to protest her ignorance when a deep voice came from behind her shoulder, startling her.
“Picked the locks, by the looks of things. Ms. Carpenter is lucky she was elsewhere at the time, or it could have been incredibly dangerous for her.”
Ben. She turned and nearly bumped her head on his chest. He placed a steadying hand on her arm.
“Would you like a drink?”
Keeley blinked at him, more than a little shocked. He was the last person she’d expect to champion her innocence. He was smiling at her almost kindly, though she couldn’t be entirely sure the expression had made it to his eyes, then looking at the barman expectantly.
“Thank you. A small white wine, please,” Keeley asked, her eyes still on Ben. Out of his work clothes, he looked younger and even more like a catalog model, in jeans and a casual T-shirt that defined his frame to perfection. He was taller and stockier than Duane, with the sort of physique that suggested sports rather than posturing in the gym. Rugby, maybe. With effort, she pushed away a vision of him in shorts and covered in mud, reminding herself that Ben Taylor was exactly the sort of man she would usually avoid. Although Duane was both handsome and rather shallow, there was a sort of naiveté to him, in spite of his obvious charms, that didn’t leave her feeling so unsettled.
The barman served her almost deferentially now, nodding at Ben with obvious respect. As soon as the bartender had moved down the counter to serve the next customer, Keeley gave Ben a relieved smile.
“Thank you.”
Ben shrugged one shoulder in a movement that was almost graceful.
“No worries. It certainly doesn’t help my investigation to have the locals jumping to conclusions or stirring up unrest.”
Keeley raised her eyebrows. There she was, thinking he was being gallant, but of course, he was just doing his job. In fact, she recalled now he had displayed the same focus at school, whether in class or in sports. Certainly he had always been too engrossed in the task at hand ever to notice her attempts to engage him.
Clearly, not a great deal had changed.
“What brings you here?” Ben asked, his tone abrupt. Keeley went to answer him, and as she did so, saw Duane enter the inn. She closed her mouth and waved at him, giving Ben a grin that felt false even to her.
“I’m with Duane,” she said, then winced when she realized how that could be misconstrued. Ben glanced from her to him, his face devoid of expression. Was it her imagination, or had his eyes become even more guarded?
“I see. Well, I’ll let you get on with your night, then.” He turned and left as Duane hurried over, and Keeley watched him retreat to the other side of the room, craning her neck to see who he had sat down with. She felt oddly surprised when she saw him sit next to a young blond woman. She hadn’t even thought about his having a girlfriend—but then, why wouldn’t he? In any case, it was none of her business.
“Are you okay?” Duane was looking at her with concern. Keeley realized with a jolt of embarrassment that she had been so busy watching Ben, she hadn’t even greeted her date.
“Yes, yes, wonderful. I saw Megan today,” she gushed. Duane’s face brightened.
“Yes, she told me. You’ve got things moving with the café, then?”
As they carried on talking and Duane steered her over to a small table—mercifully out of sight of Ben Taylor and his companion—Keeley felt herself relax. Duane was pleasant, if unchallenging company, and certainly seemed eager to help Keeley establish herself as a local yoga instructor.
“We need some fresh faces up at the leisure center. Especially one as pretty as yours.”
Keeley blushed at the compliment. Although the mirror didn’t exactly show an old hag, she still found such compliments difficult to accept. Six months in New York surrounded by the beautiful people had left her feeling decidedly plain. But then, judging by the easy way the words rolled off his tongue, she suspected Duane gave out compliments like other people gave bread to ducks. He had an easy charm that she imagined must make him very attractive to women, and she wondered if that was the reason for her lack of enthusiasm.
… Nothing to do with Ben Taylor, who didn’t even look in her direction when he went up again to the bar. Keeley twisted in her seat and turned her attention fully to Duane.
However, after twenty minutes of listening to a breakdown of his workout regime and his battle against body fat, her eyes were beginning to glaze over. As much as she was interested in healthy living, she liked to think there were other topics of conversation to be had.
“But, of course, you will know what I mean, with your yoga practice, won’t you?” Duane said. Keeley had no idea what point he was referring to, but nevertheless, she opened her mouth to speak, eager to talk about it with someone who had a genuine interest. But before she could formulate a word, Duane was talking again, about his superior flexibility or something. Keeley sat back in her chair and sighed, then looked up as two women around Annie’s age approached the table. One, who looked familiar, was tall and thin, and her companion was shorter and a great deal plumper. Keeley couldn’t help but be reminded of the fat and thin aunts from James and the Giant Peach, a favorite book from her childhood that her father had read to her over and over again.
“You’re Keeley, aren’t you?” the taller of the two asked. They each gave Keeley a genuine smile, and she sat up, relieved both for a break from Duane’s monologue and at the chance to make more friends.
“You’re staying at Rose Cottage? George Carpenter’s girl? My, look how pretty you are, your dad would be so proud.”
Keeley blushed, pleased at the mention of her father. She recognized the shorter woman, she realized, from her father’s shop. Maggie, she thought. Her mother hadn’t liked her much, but then, Darla didn’t like anyone much.
Maggie and her companion sat down at their table. Duane s
hot Keeley an annoyed look.
“I’ll go to the bar,” he said in a sulky tone. Maggie looked at him in approval.
“Why, that’s kind,” she said. “We’ll have two gin and tonics. In fact, make them doubles.”
Keeley stifled a smile at Duane’s look of horror and turned her attention to the women. She started to tell them about her plans for the café, only to be interrupted by the taller woman, who introduced herself as Norma.
“Yes, your café. You’re not still opening it after that poor man was killed, surely?”
“I am,” Keeley said, trying to sound assertive in an attempt to convince herself as much as the woman. “It’s a tragedy, of course, but I’m going ahead with my plans. It’s what my father would expect,” she added quietly. Norma nodded impatiently.
“But aren’t you scared? Who do you think did it?”
“Yes, you must have some idea,” Maggie said, leaning over the table. There was a greedy, almost predatory look in her eyes, and Keeley remembered why her mother hadn’t liked her. The woman was notorious as the village gossip. They hadn’t come over to welcome her at all, but to press her for details that—had she any to give—would no doubt be all round Belfrey by the morning.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, standing up and joining Duane at the bar, where he was now talking to a pretty redhead who seemed to be hanging on his every word. She gave Keeley a less-than-friendly look as she joined them.
“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” she said to Duane, which wasn’t altogether a lie, “so I’m really sorry, but I think I’ll get going.”
Duane winked at her. “I’ll walk you home.”
Keeley went to protest, then saw Ben watching her out of the corner of his eye. She smiled at Duane.
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
She was acutely aware of Ben’s eyes on her as she walked out, Duane close behind her with a proprietary hand on her lower back. Outside, it was gloomy and overcast, the clouds pulling the night in early. She shivered and then regretted it as Duane moved his arm up around her shoulders. Sidestepping neatly, she quickened her pace. If he noticed her reluctance to get too close to him, he gave no sign, but launched instead into a description of his latest workout class. By the time she had reached Rose Cottage, Keeley was sure her partly feigned headache would be all too real. As she turned to say good-bye to Duane, he had a hopeful look in his eyes that made her wish she hadn’t agreed to let him walk her home. Damn Ben Taylor.
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