by Agatha Frost
“I thought we were all on the same page,” Shilpa said, stepping around her chair. “But apparently now we’re tasked with freeing the man actively trying to turn our library into a restaurant? I’m sorry, but I want no part in this.”
“This is more of a side mission,” Barker said in a smaller voice. “Separate from the library.”
“So, playing both sides?”
Those three words produced the same groan from Julia, and even Dot seemed sick of them.
“Was Katie supposed to reject James’s offer?” Dot asked. “I know there’s some conflict, but even if she had, he would still have bought the library.”
“It’s the principle.”
“Was she supposed to turn down life-changing money?”
“Yes!” Shilpa laughed as though that had been the point all along. “I did.”
Shilpa swept out of the dining room and then the house, leaving the letterbox swinging in her wake. The rest of them sat in silence for far too long.
“You don’t think James tried to buy the post office off her, do you?” Amy asked softly, either the only one brave enough to break the silence, or maybe the one unable to stand it anymore. “She never said anything.”
“Let’s not speculate,” Julia said. “Shilpa is our friend.”
They all nodded their agreement, though the echo of the letterbox’s rattling still seemed to bounce around the room.
“I’m in,” Evelyn proclaimed. “Some of James’s associates are at the B&B, and they’ve been giving me peculiar energy since check-in.”
“I have nothing else on,” Amy said with a shrug. “Side mission sounds fun.”
“And you’re all comfortable with the ‘playing both sides’ narrative?” Barker seemed surprised that Shilpa alone had walked out. “I think it’s best we keep what we’re doing as low-profile as possible, but we all know that secrets and this village don’t mix.”
“Not everyone thinks that way,” Evelyn said with a knowing nod. “It’s an unfortunate coincidence, but the universe is full of them. We can save the library and help Katie sell the manor in the same breath.”
“One does have an effect on the other, though,” Amy pointed out. “Freeing James means he can pick up where he left off if he wants to. Though maybe his wife getting shot might give him a change of heart?”
“Men like James Jacobson rarely have changes of heart,” Dot professed. “He’s proved he’ll stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.”
“And the plan isn’t to get him out under any circumstance.” Barker leaned against the chair at the head of the table. “It’s to prove his innocence. He’s still sticking to the story that he found the gun, and I believe him.”
“Me too,” Julia chipped in.
“Universe is full of coincidences,” Evelyn repeated. “As incriminating as it looked, I didn’t sense dishonesty in his cries.”
“Which brings me to the next part.” Barker ran his hand over his lightly stubbled jaw. “The associates at your B&B are all people of interest in the investigation. Richie has the alibi of being with his mother when she was shot. The stylist and James’s mother were both alone. We should really talk to them first, but . . .” He exhaled. “Evelyn, the police will be at your B&B around noon.”
“The three of them were all present for breakfast, but I don’t know how they intend to spend the—”
“To talk to you,” he interrupted. “Your putting a stop to James’s tarot reading has cropped up in enough statements that they want to interview you.”
“You’re not suggesting that I shot—”
“No, no.” Barker waved his hands. “Goodness, no. I don’t think you did anything. I just wanted to warn you, so you can think of your alibi.”
“Oh.” Evelyn’s face burned scarlet. “Oh, dear. Well, I happened to be in the trees, you see.”
“Oh,” Barker echoed.
“Yes, that doesn’t look good, does it?” She wrapped her hands around one of the many crystals hanging around her neck. “I struggled through another two readings after James, but his aggression had clouded my third eye. So, I let my grandson take over while I went for a walk. I didn’t rush in with the rain. The water felt cleansing, like it had come just for me. I stayed like that until I heard the gunshot.”
“From which side?” Julia asked. “If you were facing the house.”
“To my left.” She twisted in her chair, motioning with her hand. “I was directly opposite the house by the time the rain started. I walked around it twice.”
“And did you see anything in there?” Barker asked. “Anyone acting suspicious?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I was in my own world, I’m afraid. I sensed movement all around me, but I didn’t notice anyone.”
“A lot of people were walking in the forest,” Dot pointed out. “Does that mean the police want to talk to me? I was also in there when the gun went off.”
“They did until they confirmed your Ethel alibi. According to her, you frogmarched her into the forest and threatened her into leaving.”
“I didn’t lay a finger on the woman!” Dot’s eyes rolled in a perfect circle. “Ever the drama queen Ethel proves to be. Evelyn didn’t shoot that woman. Is anyone else in here on that list?”
“Not in here,” he continued. “Neil is. And his innocence will be trickier to prove because I can’t just discount him. He was unreachable until late last night, and he didn’t turn up at home until almost midnight.”
Julia gulped. Sue hadn’t mentioned anything. When there wasn’t a follow-up call once they’d separated, she’d assumed Sue’s inability to reach Neil had been temporary. Julia hated to think of how worried her sister must have been.
“Thanks for the warning,” Evelyn said after another silence. “If you’re wanting to talk to the people with James, Ruth and Richie confirmed they’d be at evening meal.”
“And Ed the stylist?” Julia asked.
“He said he couldn’t confirm,” she said with a sigh. “He was quite rude about it, actually.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Julia said, half under her breath.
“Enough about that lot for now.” Dot reached under the table and pulled out the bag of letters. “The police released this back to us, and we only got halfway through before the party derailed. Our library won’t save itself.”
7
On Barker’s advice, they went straight to the police station. There, they were able to rally enough of Barker’s former colleagues to put signatures on half of their letters before spilling across the road to The Plough where the rest were having lunch in the sun.
“Do you two ever take a day off?” DI Christie called, peering at them over his sunglasses. “Order pie and chips and enjoy the sun for an hour like the rest of us.”
He lifted his pint to the rest of the suited officials at his picnic bench, and they all mumbled their agreement.
“There’s still summer enough ahead of us for that,” Barker replied, putting a letter and pen in front of Christie. “Sign one of these will you? It’s for a good cause.”
While Barker asked the same of the rest of the table, Julia watched Christie read over it. He was the first to get a letter, but the last to sign. He passed it back with added salty fingerprints.
“Only because we’re friends,” he said, popping the cap on the pen. “It’s about time this village got a decent restaurant.”
“Not you too, mate.”
“The Comfy Corner is alright,” he said, cutting into his pie, “and pub grub hits the spot for a quick lunch, but sometimes you just want something fancier, you know? What if I want to take a lovely woman out? My choices are being subjected to Mary eavesdropping on every word of our conversations or seeing the same old faces in the pub.”
“If only it didn’t have to be in the library.” Julia accepted the pen, now covered in salt.
“I’ve always thought it was a wasted space,” he muttered through a mouthful of pie sm
othered in ketchup. “I hear you’ve taken on James as a client?”
“Pro bono.”
“Either way, between you and me, I think it’s a one and done case you shouldn’t waste your time on.”
“Why the twenty-four-hour extension, then?” Barker asked in a low voice right by Christie’s ear. “Don’t kid a kidder, John. Remember who taught you that spin.”
“Certainly, wasn’t you.” Christie winked. “We’re just taking our time to dot the i’s and cross the t’s, that’s all. You know what the prosecution can be like. A man with that much money, it’s going to be a big case when it gets to trial.”
“But you have nothing aside from him holding the gun?”
“What more do we need?”
The others at the table looked up, their conversation drifting off to nothing.
“Something not so circumstantial,” Barker said as he slotted the last of the letters into the waiting envelopes. “Thanks for your paw prints, everyone. Don’t take it personally, Christie, but I think you’re wrong.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”
“Just trying to make sure justice is served to the right people,” Barker said, swiping a chip off the edge of Christie’s plate. “We’ll leave you to the rest of your pie, DI.”
Leaving them to their lunch and laughter, Julia and Barker continued to the library as planned. Budget cuts hadn’t yet slashed Monday off the timetable, not that the library was open.
“He rejected the call,” Julia said after trying to call Neil.
“I’ll take that as a refusal to interview,” Barker said. “Doesn’t look good, does it?”
“He’s having a hard time,” she said, putting her phone away. “Don’t hold it against him. We’ll talk to him when we get the chance.”
“What now?” Barker asked, flicking through the letters. “We’ve only five left.”
“Then we’ll have them signed along the way to wherever we end up,” she said, reaching into the pram to stroke Olivia’s cheek as she stirred from a nap. “We have a few hours before we need to be at the B&B. Christie was right. We should try to enjoy the afternoon.”
On their walk to Riverswick, the nearest neighbouring village, they managed to both collect their signatures and find a place to eat the hastily prepared picnic they’d put together from things bought at a shop on the main road. In the shade of a swaying oak tree by the village’s namesake river, they ate crisps, biscuits, and boxed pasta salads, and helped Olivia throw bread to the birds.
Not wanting to bring her along to their interviews, they walked home. After one final feed, Julia put her to bed in her cot. Just when Julia expected everyone would be tucking into their dinner at the B&B, Brian turned up for babysitting duty.
“We won’t be long,” she told him on the way out.
“Any chance to spend time with my granddaughter.”
“She’s had a full afternoon,” she said, kissing him on the way to the door. “She should sleep through, but if she doesn’t . . .”
“I know what to do,” he said, patting her cheek. “Go.”
They took Julia’s vintage aqua blue Ford Anglia down to the B&B. Through the window, they saw Evelyn clearing away a table. Catching Julia’s eye, she gave a thumbs up.
“Julia?” Barker said, adjusting the rear-view mirror. “Did I give the impression this was a group interview?”
Julia looked through the mirror. Though her gran hardly looked like herself, she wasn’t hard to miss. Navy cigarette trousers had replaced her usual calf-length navy skirt. Dot still wore her signature white blouse and brooch, but the waist-length jacket that matched the trousers made it look new. A red beret, tilted to the side to let her short grey curls poke out, pulled the focus upwards.
“Gran, you look incredible,” Julia said when they met on the pavement outside the B&B. “What’s the occasion?”
“I thought it would be obvious.” She tugged at her jacket; the cut nipped in at the waist just so. “If I’m to play PI tonight, I thought I’d better look the part.” She gave them both a once over. “I see you two haven’t changed, but no matter. Amy decided to go to bingo instead, and I couldn’t tear Percy away from the television, so it seems it’s just us.”
“Dot,” Barker started. “About the—”
“Is the hat okay?” she asked, ducking to look in the car’s wingmirror. “I’m boiling hot, but I thought it pulled the outfit together. Maybe it’s too much?”
“The hat looks lovely, but I’m setting some ground rules,” Barker said. “We can’t have a repeat of . . .” With a cough, he changed the subject. “This isn’t an interrogation. We must be honest. We’re trying to build a clearer picture of James and Mindy’s life together, okay?”
“Yes, yes.” Dot readjusted her hat in the mirror. “I understand.”
“We’re here on James’s behalf,” Barker continued, softer. “Just remember that. These are the people closest to him. They might be the only people who can explain what happened at the garden party, and they won’t offer that up willingly. Just be gentle.”
“Even though one of them likely pulled the trigger?” Dot glanced up to the bay window where Richie had taken an armchair; his gaze was fixed on the garden. “You don’t have to worry about me. I can do gentle, Barker.”
Barker didn’t look convinced.
Dot walked up to the front door, the trousers giving her legs more definition than Julia was used to seeing after a lifetime of skirt swishing. Forgoing the doorbell, she strode right in.
“Dorothy!” Evelyn gasped from behind the reception desk. “Look at you! You’re the picture of a film noir movie star.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing that we’re here to interview three of your guests.” Dot followed Evelyn in. “But thank you. I feel rather sophisticated.”
Evelyn went off to fetch a pot of tea, leaving the three of them in the hallway. Dot popped her head into the main sitting area.
“Julia, I think you’d do well with the son,” she whispered on her return. “He seems delicate. I’ll take Mr Goatee. I get the feeling he’ll respond better to a firmer touch.”
Pleased enough with her plan, Dot didn’t hang around for any discussion of it. As much as Julia wanted to talk with Ed, she could admit that her gran’s plan made the most sense.
“I hope I don’t regret this,” Barker said, hanging up his jacket. “Leaves me to find Ruth, if you’re okay with Richie?”
“Fine by me.”
Barker went off in search of James’s mum, and Evelyn appeared with their teapot, cups, and a plate of chocolate digestive biscuits. She put them on the reception desk and moved in close to Julia.
“The police came like Barker said,” she whispered, pulling her jade green kaftan close. “I’m not sure if they consider me a suspect, but I didn’t have much to tell them, and I’d never seen any of the things in the pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“The gun,” she continued in a lower voice, “the red laser pen all those people saw, and some electrical tape. Looks like they taped the laser to the gun. I dread to think why someone would go to such lengths.”
“Sounds like it was premeditated,” she mused aloud before noticing Evelyn’s uneasiness. “Don’t worry about it. They’re probably ticking a box that needed ticking. I don’t think a reading gone wrong holds up as a motive for murder.”
“Everyone saw how badly he took it,” she said. “I can take a lot, but the laughing? I’m embarrassed to admit that I truly hated him in that moment. It’s why I escaped into the forest. I . . . felt so small.”
“You’re anything but small to me.” Julia offered a smile. “I’m surprised a man like James would even sit down for a tarot reading. Wouldn’t put it past him to do it just so he could laugh.”
“I’m not so sure,” Evelyn said, glancing into the sitting room where Richie was still in the armchair, alone. “I like to keep my readings private, but you saw how it ended. When he first sat down,
I knew he was seeking answers.”
“How?”
“Because he said, ‘I’m seeking answers to something,’” she said. “I didn’t ask for specifics because the cards always know. I started the reading, and everything was going along fine until I drew a future card.”
“That’s what caused the laughter?”
“The Blasted Tower.” Evelyn nodded. “Pride goeth before a fall. I was halfway through my explanation that the card could be signalling the end of a relationship or some other huge change driven by overambition when he started laughing.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Only laughed.” She shuddered. “The Tower is also known as the ‘sudden shock’ card, so maybe it was that.”
“Considering what happened next, I’d say your reading was pretty spot-on.”
Leaving Evelyn to take the tea through to the sitting room, Julia joined Richie by the window. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The dark smudges beneath those eyes made him look far older than the twenty-or-so-years she guessed he was. Though he still looked like his father, the suit had gone, replaced by a much looser grey linen t-shirt that showed the delicate tattoos curling up and down his arms.
Richie turned back to the window as Julia took the armchair next to him. On the other side of the long room, in the matching chairs that looked out over the back garden, her gran seemed to be faring better with Ed; he was talking to her, at least.
“I’m Julia,” she said. “I run—”
“I know who you are,” he cut in, pushing himself deeper into the chair as his legs edged away from her. “You run the café, and you’re the wife of the PI my dad has hired to get him out of there.”
Richie nodded towards the station, though Julia suspected James had been moved somewhere more secure while the police put together their case.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” she said, meeting his smile. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions, then?”
Richie’s eyes flitted from the window to Julia a few times before he was able to maintain eye contact. Though he managed this only for a few seconds, it was long enough for Julia to notice another difference between Richie and his father.