by Agatha Frost
“Want to swap?” Julia asked, glancing out through the front windows with a groan. “We might not have much longer out there if those clouds have anything to do with it.”
“Rain wasn’t forecast.” Barker patted down his pockets until he produced his phone. “And I’m fine here. Your gran tried to rope me into the letter thing, but you know I’m not very good at the campaigning stuff.” He tapped his screen and turned it to her. “Wasn’t forecast. Looks like it’s changed. Says it’s only a shower. Might pass us by.”
“Might not.” She pushed herself up and patted the letters. “These need to go with the others. If everyone’s inside, it won’t take my gran long to realise she can get a signature on every letter if she locks the front doors.”
Leaving the rest of her cake to Barker to finish, she entered the study. The ‘PRIVATE – NO GUESTS’ sign seemed to have done enough to keep everyone out. Their expanding bag of signed envelopes was there. Adding hers, she almost wished for a way to see the look on the councillor’s face when he returned from the Canary Islands and found all of these on his desk.
On her way out, Julia noticed the model was gone. She left the study, hoping they’d returned it to the van.
One glance outside confirmed they hadn’t.
Against the advancing grey clouds slowly swallowing up the blue, Richie was setting up the banners at the top of the driveway. He’d removed his jacket, and to her surprise, he had a few tattoos on his forearms. She’d expected him to be as clean-cut as his father.
Along with the model, the banners faced the house. Every guest would pass by as they left. The placement reminded Julia of the people who tried to sell car breakdown insurance at the exits of big supermarkets.
The man with the goatee hurried past her, a jacket slung over his arm. He passed the garment to Richie, who thanked him with a smile before starting on the second banner. The goateed man lingered, glaring at Julia over his shoulder.
Fair enough.
He’d found her unintentionally eavesdropping twice.
Wary of causing drama, she returned to the entrance hall just in time to hear the first rumble of thunder. With nothing to muffle it, the sound echoed through the house like the toll of a bell. Barker’s phone hadn’t mentioned thunder. She pulled out her own, and before her eyes, the light shower adjusted to show dark clouds with bolts of lightning.
“What’s the point of you then?” Julia chastised the phone as she put it away. “Worse than the TV forecasts.”
Knowing they didn’t have long, Julia ran through the manor to the French doors. She called out a warning, but the arrival of the downpour cut her off. Everyone ran towards the house, flooding around her like she was an unmoving stone pier fighting an ocean tide.
“Clear a path!” Julia called when she saw Johnny and Leah – his fiancé and another of Julia’s school friends – carrying in one of the tables. “Through here.”
The other tables and chairs came in too, and before long, the party had moved to the sitting room, the only room grand enough to hold the crowd spilling inside. Despite the grey clouds stealing the light, the rain hadn’t washed away the party atmosphere.
“Have you seen Katie?” Sue called to Julia as she fought through the crowd. “Neil was just here. A single pint in The Plough was all it took for him to think it was a good idea to come and apologise today of all days.”
“I haven’t seen her,” she said, looking around, “or Dad. Or Gran and Percy for that matter.”
“Percy’s in the cellar with the dogs to protect them from the thunder. Not sure how the kids are going t—”
A loud boom cracked through the noise. Silence rippled through the crowd as most people, Julia included, peered around, trying to figure out if they’d just heard thunder.
Too sharp.
Too short.
Too loud.
Too close.
A second burst confirmed Julia’s worst fear.
“Was that a gunshot?” someone cried.
The crowd swelled towards the back window, dragging Julia and Sue with them. Grabbing her sister’s hand, Julia pulled them through the crowd. She glanced over at Barker. All the kids were in various states of distress, but Barker seemed to be handling it. She crossed the entrance hall and returned to the kitchen. As she’d suspected, only a few people were already there, staring out through the French doors.
“Someone’s still out there,” one woman cried. “What was that noise?”
A flash of lightning briefly lit up the garden. Amongst the abandoned tables, chairs, blankets, and cups, Julia made out the outline of a person in a white shirt, doubled over in the rain on their knees, barely upright.
“Is that James?” Sue whispered.
“I can’t tell.”
Another flash of lightning banished the darkness as the man righted himself. Even with his back to them, the lightning illuminated the long, damp strands of hair hanging from what he carried in his arms. Though darker now that it was wet, the many shades of blonde unmistakably belonged to Mindy.
The man ran for the house; Brian and some other men rushed out to meet him. The light from the kitchen lit up the man’s face. Not James, like Sue had thought, but Richie. Julia pushed the cakes to one end of the island, clearing space for them to lay her down.
“Someone’s shot her,” Richie cried, staring at the mix of blood and rain on his hands. “We were running in – I . . .”
As chaos took hold, Julia could hardly make sense of the scene unfolding around her. She began to cry out that someone should put pressure on the bleeding wound before noticing that someone had already pressed a tea towel to Mindy’s side.
She saw her grandmother in the crowd thickening at the archway. Julia tried to catch her eyes, but Dot’s was fixated on the island.
No, not the island.
Her gaze went beyond.
Julia followed them to the French double doors where James Jacobson lingered in the rain. He had his eyes on his wife and a gun in his hands.
4
Julia’s father was the one to break the silence.
“Put the gun down, James,” Brian called, holding arms wide at his sides, palms facing up. “Nobody else needs to get hurt.”
James looked from his wife, semi-conscious and moaning on the island, to the gun in his hands. His finger was nowhere near the trigger; the weapon rested in one open hand. His lips moved like he was trying to form words, but none emerged.
“James!” Brian cried. “Put the gun down. Now.”
James nodded, and the gun toppled from his hand. It tapped on the tiles with a thud, and everyone close enough jumped back as though it might fire again.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said, stepping over the weapon. “I was in the forest . . . I found it . . .”
The crowd suddenly moved to close the gap between James and Mindy. Two women and a man burst through, declaring they were off-duty police officers. Even if Julia didn’t recognise them from the station, their voices carried the authority only officials could muster so quickly and confidently; after all, almost everyone in the village had turned up.
“I didn’t do anything,” James insisted, backing into the rain. “I told you. I found it.”
Without handcuffs, the three officers grabbed him between them and dragged him through the kitchen. James went quietly until the crowd parted by the island. At the sight of Mindy, he thrashed and kicked, lunging towards her. Though nearly successful, he was no match for three sets of trained hands.
“I didn’t do it!” His cries echoed through the entrance hall. “I didn’t shoot my wife!”
The soaked crowd’s silence transformed into rapid-fire whispering before Brian shooed them all out. Hanging back, Julia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blood-soaked tea towels clutched to Mindy’s side. James’s mum had appeared to take over from the stranger who’d first put the towel there. On one side of the island, she stroked Mindy’s damp hair. Richie stood on the other, choking out
the sobs of a desperate man.
A shiver ran down her spine. As she’d watched James’s denial unfold, she’d noticed the crowd’s pursed lips and shaking heads as they instantly dismissed his claims.
James had, after all, been holding the gun.
She was the odd one out.
She believed him.
From a window in one of the empty guest rooms, Julia looked down at the spot where Mindy had been shot. The forecast hadn’t predicted the thunder, but at least its calculation about the shower being short came true. Within half an hour of the grey clouds appearing, they’d passed completely, leaving the rest of the day’s hourly forecast as sunny and clear as the blue sky left behind after the storm. The rain had washed away any blood, though it was still obvious where Mindy had taken the bullet.
Officials in all types of uniforms were combing the grass, concentrated most densely where Richie had cried over his bleeding mother before running inside with her. On the edge of the forest lining the garden, even more officers walked amongst the shadows.
“I don’t know why they’re looking over there,” Dot said, casting a finger to the left side of the grounds as she joined Julia at the window. “The gunshot came from the other side.”
“I couldn’t tell where it came from.” Amy Clark, the church organist, scratched at her short grey hair. “I could have sworn it was thunder until I saw her.”
Julia pulled herself away from the window, knowing there was nothing to be gained from watching the authorities start their investigation.
“Do you think they missed the first time?”
“What, dear?” Dot asked.
“Two gunshots,” Julia explained. “One wound.”
She joined the rest of Peridale’s Ears clustered at the ring of white garden chairs in the room’s centre. It hadn’t been intentional, but, minus Neil and Barker, they were all present. Neil, presumably, was at home, and Barker had gone to the station.
“I wonder why James wanted to talk to Barker,” asked Dot. “He must know Barker’s not a lawyer.”
“Maybe it’s because he’s a private investigator?” Percy suggested, stroking Bruce, asleep on his lap. “Though who uses their one phone call on a PI rather than a lawyer?”
“A guilty man,” Shilpa stated with such firmness that Evelyn and Amy nodded their agreement. “Everyone saw that gun in his hand.”
Julia hadn’t revealed her doubts. If others were considering the possibility that James’s insistence of his innocence was legitimate, they weren’t doing so out loud. She’d come upstairs because she hadn’t been able to stomach hearing the story change in real time as statements were taken. The last she’d heard, James had run inside, already aiming the gun to finish what he’d started before he was wrestled to the ground by police officers. By the end of the day, she imagined he’d be re-enacting the machine gun scene from Scarface.
Their plastic chairs creaked as the door opened, and they all turned to see who would enter. Julia was hoping – and expecting – to see an officer, or even Detective Inspector John Christie. Instead, Katie popped her head in before entering, followed by Brian.
“Nobody was looking, so I grabbed these from the fridge,” she said, putting two more jugs of raspberry lemonade and a stack of cups in the middle of the circle. “Help yourselves.”
“They’re picking the buffet clean,” said Brian as he added a silver platter filled with random sandwich triangles, mini sausage rolls, and crackers with cheese to the offering. “I grabbed what I could. Christie says it won’t be long until they make their way up here.”
“Don’t suppose you have a hairdryer?” Dot asked, attempting to fluff up her still damp curls. “I’m soaked through.”
“I don’t, but . . .” Katie swallowed down a lump of emotion. “I was about to say that I heard Mindy using one earlier. Ed might know where it is.”
“Ed?” Julia’s ears pricked up. “Black goatee?”
Katie nodded. “Mindy’s stylist. We should all be so lucky, right?”
The echo of Katie’s words dropped like a brick before she excused herself in search of a hairdryer. None of them knew if Mindy was even alive, but even if she was, she had proved she was anything but lucky.
“Why are you so soaked, Dot?” Shilpa asked. “I was out there when it started, but I’m nearly dry.”
“Oh.” Dot hugged herself. “I was a bit further out. In the forest.” Her eyes bulged, and she quickly added, “But I wasn’t alone. I was with Ethel.”
“Ethel?” Amy jumped at the name. “Why was she here?”
“Why do you think?” Dot pulled away from the window to join them. “She turned up with her Eyes not long before the rain.”
“Peridale’s Eyes are fundraising for the church roof,” Percy explained. “Had a clipboard and everything. My Dorothy pulled her aside to try talking some sense into her.”
The near collapse of Peridale’s Eyes, now led by Ethel, had been the Dot’s catalyst to form Peridale’s Ears, and to say the groups had been rivals ever since would be an understatement. So far, they’d remained civil, their competitiveness benefitting the community. As many had pointed out, the village had never seen so little litter on its streets.
“I told her to get off our patch,” Dot said, perching on the edge of a seat before scooping up two sandwiches; she passed one to Percy. “Didn’t want our message getting confused, especially when they’ve got the summer fête next week.” She opened the sandwich, wrinkled her nose, and tossed it back. “One cause at a time.”
“The church roof is leaking.” Amy shrugged slightly. “I get dripped on at the organ when it’s raining.”
Julia looked around while she poured a glass of lemonade to gauge the levels of dampness around her. Shilpa had dried off, and Amy didn’t appear to have got wet at all. Sue, in the corner watching the kids, hadn’t said much, but she’d been indoors with Julia when the rain started. Johnny was also dry. Evelyn, in her blue kaftan, was the most soaked of all. She hadn’t said a word since she’d followed Julia upstairs.
“I couldn’t find him,” Katie said as she slipped into the room, hairdryer in hand, “but I found his kit at the bottom of the stairs. Right where he left it.”
“Did you touch anything else?” Julia instinctively asked.
“It was resting on top,” Katie replied, arching a brow still intact despite her own drenching. “Oh, I suppose everything is evidence until the police say otherwise, isn’t it?”
“Correct.” Detective Inspector John Christie strode into the room, puffing on his electronic cigarette. He quickly pocketed it and blew out a cloud of lemon-scented smoke before searching his pockets for a pad. “Though since Mrs Jacobson wasn’t shot with a hairdryer, I’ll let you off the hook. Who wants to go first?”
DI Christie looked at Julia, and she nodded. As much as they’d butted heads over the years, he was Barker’s best friend and, in Barker’s words, Christie had become a ‘halfway decent detective.’ They left the circle and headed towards the corner where Sue sat with the children.
“What is it with your family, Julia?”
“Last time I checked, Mindy Jacobson wasn’t related to me.”
“But this house?” He looked around the large room. “I’m starting to think this place is—”
Julia shook her head, begging him not to say ‘cursed.’ Last time such a thing was suggested, it had taken a lot to change Katie’s mind. Considering her father and brother had both died at the house, it was easy to understand why. And that was only the beginning of what Wellington Manor had been through.
“I overheard something,” she whispered after she’d finished giving a statement bound to be infinitely more accurate than the inevitable Scarface shenanigans. “Before the guests arrived, I was desperate for the loo. While standing outside the bathroom down the hall, I heard Ed and Mindy talking. Well, he was talking to her. Or at her.”
“In a threatening way?”
“Took the words right out of my mou
th.”
“You’re not the only one who’s said them.” He flicked through a few pages of his pad. “When he arrived around half eleven, Malcolm Johnson overheard Mindy and Ed arguing around the side of the house. He couldn’t say what it was about. And Sarah, one of my off-duty officers, broke up an apparent altercation between Ed and Mindy in the entrance hall twenty minutes before Mindy was shot. According to her, Ed’s hand was wrapped around her wrist, and tightly.”
“Something to look into?”
“Might be something out of nothing.” Christie flipped the pad shut. “Going off what everyone saw, the case is pretty cut and dried. Especially with the laser.”
“Laser?”
“A red laser from the forest,” he explained, looking around the room as though deciding who to talk to next. “At least a dozen people saw it. Given the heavy rain, I thought the first person who said it was a bit mad, but every fifth person mentioned they’d seen one without me bringing it up. Seems like James didn’t want to miss.”
Christie walked off before Julia could remind him about people being innocent before proven guilty. She understood why everyone else was so quick to believe their eyes over their ears, but based on nothing more than a feeling, she couldn’t join them. The confusion in his eyes had seemed too genuine . . . though, perhaps it was the look of someone coming to terms with what they’d done?
But if James had wanted to finish what he started, he had every opportunity. According to the officer who’d picked up the gun with another of the tea towels, a third bullet was already waiting in the carriage. He’d had a clear shot at Mindy upon first entering the kitchen.
“He’s not picking up,” Sue whispered, phone at her ear as she chewed her lip. “C’mon, Neil. Answer your bloody phone. I shouldn’t have told him to go home. I had no idea it was going to rain.”
“Maybe he called for a taxi?”
“He didn’t,” she said, hitting the green call button again before putting the phone back to her ear. “We went into the forest to talk away from everyone, and he set off home from there. You can get back to our place quicker through the woods.”