“Oh, it’s you. What brings you here?”
“I wondered if I might talk to you about what happened with Margaret Flowers,” I said.
Celeste took a drag of her cigarette and blew it out into my face.
“If you must,” she said. “But couldn’t you have left that mutt at home, though?”
Shadow barked his disapproval.
“He’s no trouble,” I said.
"Maybe not. But I'd prefer not to have his hairs left all over my house, thank you. You can put him in the backyard.”
As I led Shadow through the house and out the back, he looked at me with his sad puppy dog eyes before hmmphing, resigned to his fate.
Celeste’s lounge was much more ornate than mine. Whereas I had gone for a rustic feel, Celeste had gone for glamour. High backed chairs with wooden frames were covered in a cloth that probably cost a fortune. Celeste served tea in the most delicate china, which I was scared to pick up in case I should chip it. I perched awkwardly on the edge of my chair.
Celeste sat back straight, and her cold blue eyes stared into mine. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase. What did you want to discuss?”
“Where did you go during the interval before…you know—”
“Before Margaret collapsed and died in front of us?”
“Yes…”
“And why might you want to know that?”
“Because the finger has been pointed at my friend, and she didn't do it. So…"
“You think I did it and framed your friend, right?”
“Well, it’s a possibility. You’ve got to admit it looks suspicious after what happened the day before.”
“Unless that whole fiasco was planned by your friend to try and throw people off the scent. Had you even considered that?”
I could feel my muscles tightening, a protective instinct flaring up in me. I hadn’t considered it, but I also knew Emma would never do such a thing.
I pressed on. “No one seems to have seen you during the interval.”
“Ah, so you’ve been asking people about me, then. And what exactly would I gain from trying to murder Margaret and framing your friend.”
“I’m not sure, exactly. It could be you were jealous or seeking revenge, even. Emma beat you in the first round, and she's running a successful business that also sells cakes, one that you wanted to buy, I might add, but she refused your offer."
“Hmm, she told you about that, did she?”
"She did, and I have to wonder why you did that. Did you see her as a threat, and when she refused your offer, you took things up a notch?”
Celeste’s eyes flitted about, unable to hold my gaze any longer. I had rattled her.
“Quite frankly, it’s none of your business why I made that offer, but I can assure you that you’ve got it all wrong. Although, I can’t pretend to be sad that your friend looks so guilty. I do hope she enjoyed her night in a cell. Who knows, she might have plenty more of those to come.”
Something flashed through Celeste’s eyes as a smirk slowly spread across her face. I wondered if I had ever met someone so spiteful before.
“And you continue to evade a really simple question, Celeste. Where were you during the interval.”
“Oh, honestly, you are so tiresome.” Celeste let out a sigh. “I couldn’t think of anything more boring than small talk with the likes of you. So, I headed to the bench a little further up the hill behind the marquee and enjoyed a smoke or two. You won’t believe how pathetic you all looked, talking excitedly about a silly little baking competition.” She blew out another plume of smoke.
By now, I could hear the blood pumping in my ears and feel my breaths shortening. “And I don’t suppose that from this vantage point of yours, you saw anyone else entering or leaving the tent during the interval.”
“Oh, that would be convenient for your friend, wouldn’t it? I think it’s time you left now, Cara. You’ve already overstayed your welcome.”
I was tempted to throw my cup down in the hope it would break or at least chip, but I wasn’t about to lower myself to her standards. Instead, I placed it down carefully, collected Shadow from the garden, and made a quick exit, pulling the door a little too firmly closed behind me.
Outside, the wind was picking up, and the clouds were brooding, darkening by the minute. Blowing on the breeze was the comforting salty scent of the sea. A storm was brewing, and if I didn’t hurry, the island ferry hoppers would be closed, and I wouldn’t make it home.
As I made my way towards the jetty, there was a crowd gathering. It seemed the captain of the ferries was waiting for an updated weather report before deciding whether he would make one more trip across to Bwytheney.
“Does this happen often?” asked a man who was standing beside me. He was wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, looking out of place on the islands. I thought I caught a twang in his accent.
“Not too often,” I replied politely. "Only when a storm blows in. You get used to it. I guess you're not from these parts then?”
“The accent gave me away, right? Hi, I’m Dwayne.” He shook my hand gently.
“What part of America are you from?” I asked.
“Just outside Boston. Have you been?”
“Nope. In fact, I’ve travelled very little since moving to these islands. What brings you here?”
“Margaret Flowers,” he said with a smile.
“Oh, right. Yes, terrible business.”
“Terrible? What do you mean?”
“You mean you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
I think it was the first time in my life that I actually wanted a storm to break above me. If the heavens opened and rain poured down, we would need to seek shelter, and I could escape this conversation without appearing rude.
“Oh gosh…I...I thought the news would have reached America. Although, I guess she’s not famous over there, is she?”
“Not yet. That’s what I was meeting her about. We were going to discuss her breaking into the American market. Has something happened I should know about?”
It suddenly felt like yet another storm was brewing, ready to break over Bwytheney at any minute.
Chapter 11
After much discussion, the captain decided that the island ferry hopper could make one last trip. We filed onto the boat, Dwayne still looking shellshocked from the news I had delivered. With a room booked at Matthew Jones’s bed and breakfast, Dwayne had decided to make the journey to the island anyway, hoping that he could at least discover more about Margaret’s current state of health.
As we took a seat on one of the boat’s benches, Dwayne’s eyebrows were furrowed together, and he seemed lost in thought.
“I’m so sorry this happened to Margaret. And that you had to find out this way,” I said.
"Do the police have any idea who's responsible? I mean, what sort of person goes around poisoning a woman who would never hurt anyone?”
"I wish I had an answer for you. The police are investigating, of course. They're going through the evidence, and…"
“And?”
“Well…it sounds a bit daft. I’m making my own enquiries. I’ve a bit of a habit of solving our islands’ mysteries, and so, it has become almost expected that I would look into it, too.”
“The Nord Isles own Miss Marple, eh?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“And do you have a theory?”
“Not entirely. I’ve just spoken to someone, but it looks like it might be a bit of a dead-end, although there's a couple of things to follow up on. And then there was Jules’s phone call. I still need to get to the bottom of that.”
"Ah, Jules, the manager.”
"Yes, well, business partner. Why? Do you know him?"
“Oh, only from what Margaret has told me. I think it would be good to follow up on him. I don’t trust him one bit.”
“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. Although I knew there was tension
between Margaret and Jules, I had no idea what it was about or that it was significant enough that a stranger wouldn’t trust Jules.
Dwayne sighed. “Look, I shouldn’t really say anything. But I don’t suppose it really matters now. Jules wasn’t part of our plans to take Margaret to America. Technically, they were business partners, but Jules has been riding on her coattails for far too long. He doesn’t listen to Margaret and only does what suits him. The lawyers were looking into their contract, and it looked like we'd found a way out. Last I heard, they were ready to approach him with a deal so he could save face at least. He wasn't going to like it, though. Either way, he wasn’t going to be earning money from Margaret anymore.”
“Is it possible that they had contacted him? I heard him on the phone to someone just before Margaret's collapse, and it certainly seemed like a heated conversation."
“I don’t know. It’s possible. I can try and find out if you like? The lawyer’s a friend of mine. I was the one who recommended him.”
“If you could, that would be great.”
Before we knew it, we had docked in Islethorpe’s marina. Ten minutes later, I was just putting my key in the door when the first rumble of thunder rolled in, and fat drops of rain began to fall and splatter on the ground.
I flicked on the kettle and checked my emails. There was one from Dan. That morning, I had sent him a message asking him to look into Celeste. Dan was my secret sidekick. We kept his support with my investigations quiet because they weren’t always entirely legal. While he enjoyed using his computer skills for something a little more worthwhile than his tedious office job, neither of us wanted to risk him getting caught.
I made myself a strong cup of coffee and flopped down on the sofa to read what he had to say. While Celeste had no alibi, I was beginning to believe she wasn’t responsible for the poisoning. I doubted that a guilty person would be quite so confrontational. I still felt shocked that Celeste had been so openly gleeful about the police investigating Emma.
But as my eyes made their way through the email, I realised I shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss Celeste. Maybe the way she reacted was all part of her plan to throw me off the scent. Dan had done some digging into her finances, and things were looking a little rocky. It seemed Gregory Albright owned both her business property and her home. She merely rented. And over the last year, greedy Gregory had hiked the price of both by a significant amount.
It was a reminder that I needed to do more work on digging into Gregory when I had a moment. His finances were smelling more and more rotten.
According to Dan, there was now little margin for error when it came to Celeste. Either she needed to up her earnings or reduce her overheads. Otherwise, the slightest bump in the road could have everything come crashing down, leaving Celeste without a business or home.
I needed to look at things logically. The answer was always found in common sense. How could Celeste have financially gained from what happened at the Bake the Cake competition? If Emma had won the competition, it would undoubtedly have increased trade at the Cupcake Café, and it’s also possible that losing would have done some damage to Celeste’s patisserie. If the margins were as tight as Dan suggested, it could have made a big difference. Then there was Celeste’s offer on Emma’s café. With a small flat above, it could have been the perfect solution giving her a business premise and somewhere to live. I had no doubt it would cost far less than she was currently paying for her spaces on Port Ynys. It certainly seemed that she had a strong motive for framing Emma. But there was still a piece of the puzzle that was eluding me. Why would she harm Margaret Flowers?
I was sure that it would all fall into place soon. I just had to keep poking and prodding at it. But first, I needed to have a little chat with Jules. He was staying at the same Bed and Breakfast as Dwayne, and with any luck, he would have also got hold of his lawyer. With the storm almost blown over, it now seemed as good a time as ever to visit.
Matthew's Bed and Breakfast was on the way out of the village, passed the marina, and next door to Pam’s campsite. With his wife no longer around, it was now run by Matthew alone, and I sensed that he and Pam often helped each other out. Perhaps something might blossom between them in time. After what happened with his wife, I couldn’t imagine he would stay married for long.
Shadow was sleeping on his bed, and I had intended to leave him to rest, but as I opened the door to go, he leapt from his bed and started barking. He didn’t stop until I clipped his collar back on.
We stomped our way up the hill towards the B&B, the winds still swirling. I shivered as I pushed the front door open and called inside.
“Matthew? You in?”
I heard footsteps approaching, but as Matthew rounded the corner, the panic was spread across his face. "Thank goodness, you'll know what to do, Cara. Quick, my study.”
Chapter 12
“What? What is it, Matthew?" I said, still out of breath from the brisk walk.
Matthew took one more glance down his hallway before closing the door behind him and strode over to the mahogany desk that sat in the middle of his study. He opened the top drawer and placed something wrapped in tissue on the desk in front of me, gesturing to it. As the tissue unfurled, I caught sight of a syringe.
“A syringe?”
“Yes. Take a closer look.”
I leaned forward to pull the tissue away. Shadow moved over towards the closed door and growled. "One minute, Shadow. You can go out in a minute," I said, returning my attention to what lay in front of me.
“Careful, don’t touch it. It could be important evidence,” Matthew warned.
“Evidence? Evidence of what exactly?” But as I carefully pulled the tissue back to reveal the syringe, I didn’t need him to answer. There were smudges of chocolate smeared down the side. My mouth fell open. “Where did you get this?”
"From one of the rooms. I was doing the bins, and as I picked one of them up, something scratched me. That's what I found inside."
“And do you know which room it came from?”
“Oh, yes,” said Matthew. “I was just about to call the police when you arrived. I thought they might think I was being silly, but I’m not, am I?”
"No, you're not. Emma's chocolate fudge cake was laced with poison, and now we know-how. I think I can guess whose room you found it in,” I said.
At that moment, Shadow’s growls turned to incessant barking. His eyes were trained on the door. My eyes flitted between Shadow and Matthew.
"Have you got a phone on you? I think now would be a perfect time to call the police," I said.
“Oh no, I left it in the hallway. Do you not have yours on you…” Matthew’s voice trailed off, remembering how notorious I was for leaving my phone in a drawer at home.
Shadow’s barking was echoing off the walls and making it hard to think. As I looked towards the door, I could see the handle slowly turning. Shadow moved back a metre or so and went back to growling. As the door was slowly pushed open, the frame was filled with the imposing outline of Jules. He was stretching his fingers, clenching them into fists, and then stretching them out again. His muscles were tight, straining at the neck, and when he saw the syringe lying on the desk, he looked straight into my eyes and bared his teeth.
Sensing the immediate danger, Shadow growled, barked, and jumped around Jules, trying to keep him back.
It happened as if in slow motion. Jules lifted one of his feet off the ground and drew it back before kicking forward with full force. There was a thud and cracking sound as his shoe made contact with Shadow’s ribs. Shadow yelped. I screamed. Perhaps that's what pushed Shadow on. The next thing I knew, he had leapt forward and sunk his teeth into Jules’s ankle.
It was Jules that now shouted out as he tried to hop around on one foot with Shadow gripping onto the material of his trousers, shaking Jules’s leg back and forth.
“Get your damn mutt off of me,” Jules shouted. At the same time, I saw the glint of something falling
from his pocket.
A second or two later, Shadow had managed to pull Jules to the other side of the door, where he then unbalanced him. Jules’s arms windmilled before he fell with a crash to the floor. Running around the desk, I could see that it was a small, sharp knife that had fallen from his pocket. I kicked it out the way towards Matthew.
The next thing I know, Dwayne appears from nowhere and launches himself at Jules, pinning him to the ground. Recognising that someone else now had matters in hand, Shadow let go and backed away. His breathing looked more laboured than normal.
With Jules’s arm twisted into a lock, Dwayne looked up at Matthew and me, "I called the police. They were already on their way.”
As my heartbeat settled and stopped filling my ears, I could hear the sirens in the distance coming closer. I ran over to Shadow and threw my arms around him. He yelped but then started licking me. He was clearly hurt, but it didn't seem too bad. And he had quite possibly saved our lives. What would I do without my boy? He had been trying to warn me all along about Jules. I thought it was just Jules wasn’t a dog person, but Shadow’s dislike for him went much deeper. Up until now, I had enjoyed Shadow’s company on my investigations. But I was now beginning to see just how much of what I did was teamwork. And Shadow was a crucial member of that team.
Before long, the police were on the scene and carting Jules away. They were bagging things up as evidence, including the knife and the syringe. Jo was on her way to check Shadow over. Having a friend who’s a vet has its advantages.
“Cara? How are you? And how’s our furry hero?” asked Detective Inspector Carroway.
“I’m okay. Jo’s on her way to see Shadow, but I don’t think he’s too bad. Just a bit bruised, I think.”
“When did you work out it was Jules?”
“I didn’t, really. I mean, I was suspicious. I was coming here to see Dwayne. He'd mentioned Jules was getting cut out of the business. He was checking with the lawyers to see if Jules had been told yet. But I didn’t know anything for sure until I got here, and Matthew showed me the syringe. Shadow knew all along, though. He kept growling every time Jules was around, didn't you, boy?" I bent down to ruffle the top of his head, and he gave me another sloppy lick of approval. “What about you? Dwayne said that the police were already on their way when he phoned.”
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