Rose Petal Revenge (Claire's Candles Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Agatha Frost

  “Oi!” a small voice called up as Claire bumped straight into someone outside the post office. “Watch it, or I’ll – oh, it’s you.”

  Amelia refused Claire’s offer of a hand and started picking up the half a dozen chocolate bars that had fallen from her pockets.

  “Did you pay for those?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  The door to the post office was yanked open, and Janet burst out looking like a dragon ready to spray the square with flames through smoking flared nostrils.

  “You!” She grabbed Amelia’s wrist and pulled her up off the pavement. “Every time you come into my post office, you line your pockets with chocolate! What’s wrong with you?”

  “It’s alright, Mum.” Claire pried Janet’s fingers off Amelia’s wrist and pulled a shiny ten-pound note from her pocket. “That should cover it.”

  “I’ll call the police next time,” Janet scolded, pointing a finger in Amelia’s uninterested face. “I don’t care if your father always comes in and pays afterwards, it’s not right.”

  “Mum, leave it,” Claire urged. “She’s ten.”

  “Old enough to know better!” Janet stiffened, her attention switching to Claire. “Crikey, dear. A little under-eye concealer never hurt anyone. If those bags drooped any lower, you’d be tripping over them.”

  Deciding not to engage in her mother’s war of words, Claire hurried after Amelia as she dashed across the square towards the gym. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed Amelia shoplifting from the post office. The first time it had happened, Claire had chased her across the square and into the gym. That had been the moment she’d been reintroduced to Ryan after years apart.

  “Aren’t you going to share?” Claire asked as she caught up with Amelia. “I paid, after all.”

  Amelia huffed heavily and dug into her pocket. She pulled out a chocolate bar and tossed it at Claire.

  “Bounty? Nobody likes Bounty.”

  “I like it.” Amelia huffed again and stopped. She pulled out her selection, offering them to Claire, who swapped her Bounty for a Twirl. “Happy now?”

  “A little.”

  “Are you going to tell my dad?” she asked, a little more sheepish. “I was just bored.”

  “I wouldn’t be a good adult if I said I approved of shoplifting to pass the time,” Claire said, sitting on a bench under the clock tower and patting the space next to her. “But I’d also be a bad adult if I lied and said I didn’t do the same thing at your age, although that was more because my mother never let me have chocolate unless she decided I could.” Claire peeled open her wrapper and savoured the first bite before asking, “Aren’t you enjoying the summer holidays?”

  Amelia shook her head as she reluctantly sat next to Claire.

  “It’s boring.”

  “Boring?” Claire scoffed. “It’s six whole weeks off school to do whatever you want. Your dad and I always made our own fun during the holidays. There are so many places to play. You could build dens, climb trees. What’s boring about it?”

  “No beach.” Amelia shrugged as she unwrapped the Bounty Claire had snubbed. “At home, we always went to the beach.”

  Claire couldn’t blame the young girl for not yet thinking of Northash, or even the country, as her home. From what Ryan had said about the small hillside town they’d lived in back in Spain, Northash couldn’t compete, even if it did have a locally famous park. Claire couldn’t fathom what it must feel like to be uprooted and moved a plane ride away from the only place you’ve ever known; she had never lived anywhere else. She also had no frame of reference for what it must feel like to know your mother had flitted off without leaving open any channels of communication – especially for a girl so young, and the teenage years just around the corner.

  “Promise me you won’t take anything from the post office again,” Claire said quietly, “and I promise I’ll take you to a beach. There’s a whole coastline of beaches less than an hour away. Have you ever been to Blackpool?”

  Amelia shook her head.

  “You haven’t?” Claire feigned shock. “Then we have to go. There’s a beach that stretches for miles, and that’s not the best bit. You can ride donkeys and rollercoasters, and there’s a tower with a circus and penny slot machines. Oh, and hot fresh doughnuts and candyfloss. On nice days like this, there’s no better place to be.”

  “I’ll have to ask my dad.”

  “Good answer.” Claire winked. “Wise girl.”

  Amelia smiled for a moment before finishing her chocolate. She scrunched up the wrapper and tossed it onto the ground. Claire only had to raise one eyebrow before Amelia picked it up and threw it in the metal bin five paces away.

  “Hugo thinks you’re trying to be our new mum.”

  Claire choked on her chocolate.

  “He does?” Her cheeks burned red. “Nobody will ever be that. Your father and I are just very close. We’ve known each other since we were your age. Even longer. He’s one of my closest friends.”

  “Are you his girlfriend?”

  Claire nearly choked again, shocked by the bluntness of youth.

  “I-I – No, I’m not.”

  “He asked us if we liked you being around.”

  “He did?”

  “Hugo said he likes you,” Amelia said as she slid off the bench. “I said you were alright, sometimes.”

  “Only sometimes?”

  Having had enough of Claire’s company, apparently, Amelia hurried across the square and through the sliding doors of the gym. Claire finished her Twirl, which apparently her nerves took a little too literally. She’d left the shop fuelled by the hypocrisy in her comments about Taron taking the risk with Rina. Now, with evidence coming at her from every direction that all indicated Ryan wanted something more, she was still holding back. She’d wanted to go to him as soon as Em had visited the cul-de-sac yesterday – and given the unhelpfulness of Taron’s testimony, she rather wished she had. This wasn’t the right moment to confess her true feelings to Ryan. Of course, she was fairly sure the right moment didn’t actually exist, but now, while he was at work, seemed particularly wrong.

  Still, she stepped into the gym, a plan forming.

  The crisp air conditioning tickled her skin pleasantly as she scanned the starkly lit gym. The pumping music was so loud she could barely think. Em was in her yoga corner, meditating alone between classes, while Hugo and Amelia sat nearby, on her yoga steps. Amelia had pulled out a colouring book, and Hugo was transfixed by his handheld games console. Finally, Claire spotted Ryan on the opposite end of the gym, heading up a spinning glass.

  For a moment, Claire hung back and watched with interest. Ryan was leading a class of five women on bikes. As he bounced up and down, delivering his instructions, his ginger hair soaked and pale face flushed, Ryan oozed confidence and authority. The women were hanging on his every word, and judging by how much some were lagging behind, Claire guessed the class was coming to an end. Not that she was judging them – the machines and weight contraptions were alien to her, and she knew she’d be out for the count within the first few minutes.

  Ryan looked up and caught her eye, and his demeanour changed immediately. He flashed her a smile so dazzling one woman turned and glared at her. Claire pretended not to notice how the blonde woman’s eyes darted swiftly up and down, scanning her. Ryan’s confidence also seemed to dip, and his instructions sounded less assured. Knowing she might be putting him off, she waited by the glass reception desk near the door. He came over five minutes later, wiping his face with a towel before grabbing an ice-cold bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Claire,” he said stiffly, putting the counter between them as he smiled and nodded at a couple of departing women. “What can I do for you?”

  This time, she recognised the stiffness; she’d seen it the night before, when he’d answered the door. At least now she knew where it was coming from. She wanted to blurt out that there was no truth in the rumour she was ‘seeing’ Taron, but he
r nerves took over again, making her overthink. If she confessed that, he would know that she knew what had been bothering him, and she didn’t want to add more awkwardness to the mix. Especially while he was at work. Instead, she fell back on her hastily conceived plan.

  “Are you doing anything tonight?” she asked, leaning against the desk. He’d turned his attention to the computer and was tapping away without looking at her. “I was wondering if you wanted to come ‘round to mine.”

  “I promised the kids I’d take them to the cinema.”

  “Oh.” Claire nodded; no room to argue with that. “Maybe tomorrow?”

  Ryan’s fingers hovered above the keyboard. When he finally looked up at her, his gaze held some of the same nervous energy bubbling away in her midsection.

  “You could come,” he said with a slight shrug. “If you wanted to?”

  “Are you sure?” She glanced back at the kids – they were still absorbed in their tasks, but Em was looking on with great interest. “You might want to ask them first.”

  “I sort of mentioned it to them over breakfast.” His cheeks flushed further, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with his spin class. “I was going to come over on my lunchbreak. Or whenever I built up the courage.” He offered a laugh, and Claire finally relaxed. “Film starts at quarter past six. If you’re in, we’ll swing by at six to pick you up.”

  “I’m in.”

  Claire left Ryan to his work. They hadn’t discussed what had happened in the cellar, and though things seemed normal, they were anything but. The words ‘we need to talk’ fizzed just under the surface. She hoped that when the inevitable conversation happened, there’d be no interruptions or running away.

  The fifteen minutes she’d promised Damon had come and gone, but when she squinted across, she saw only a couple of customers browsing. Renewed by the promise of spending time with Ryan to set the record straight, she carried on to the bed and breakfast.

  As though fate had timed things perfectly, DI Ramsbottom and another suited officer were walking down the steps in front of the B&B just as she approached.

  “Claire!” he boomed, tripping on the final step. “It’s all go go go since yesterday! Finally, a scent to follow.” The other officer cleared his throat, and Ramsbottom added, “Rest in peace to the poor man, of course, but it’s nice to be officially let in on the action. I’m pulling on leads like threads in every direction, and we have something quite promising, I hope. Just off to get the CCTV to back it up.”

  “Probably best to keep things schtum until then, boss,” the other officer said.

  Ramsbottom tapped his nose before lumbering off to squeeze into his comically tiny red car. He mounted the kerb with two wheels before spinning around the corner, his small vehicle looking close to tipping over entirely.

  Claire approached the bed and breakfast, noticing that the plain, cream-coloured ‘Northash Bed and Breakfast’ sign had been replaced with something altogether more dazzling. Set against a backdrop of deep forest green, the title ‘Fergus Ferguson’s Fine Bed and Breakfast (and Museum)’ jumped out in sparkling gold paint. The small man popped up from behind the bushes like he’d been lying in wait, a pair of magnifying goggles comically enlarging his eyes. He squinted at Claire before taking off the goggles.

  “Goodness me!” he said, chuckling. “I was hunting ants for a wee experiment I was about to conduct with a new invention, and I thought you were a gigantic woman for a moment!”

  “Ask my mother, and she might agree with you.”

  “Nonsense!” He opened the gate and waved for Claire to enter the tiny garden. “Would you like to come in for tea? Noreen, wasn’t it?”

  “Claire,” she corrected, “but close enough. I’m afraid I can’t stay for tea; I’m on the clock. I work at the candle shop in the square.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen that! What’s it called? Barbara’s Candles?”

  “Claire’s Candles.”

  “That’s your name!”

  “It’s my shop.” She laughed. “New sign?”

  “Thank you for noticing. I had it installed this very morning.”

  “Museum?”

  “Aye!” He ushered her up the steps and through the front door. “It’s only an idea right now, but I have what I believe to be the world’s largest collection of Do Not Disturb signs! You know, the kind you put on doors in hotels? I’ve been collecting them on my travels for years. Always dreamed of opening my own establishment one day and look at me! Here I am in this lovely village, living my dream.” He hesitated on the doorstep, looked out, and said, “Shame about the knife crime, but at least the sun is shining! Tea? I fixed my little machine. It can now self-pour a cup of tea and tell the time in three different languages.”

  Claire was about to repeat her refusal when Daniel appeared at the top of the stairs, dragging a suitcase behind him. He bounced the case down the steps one at a time, not seeming to care about the noise.

  “Checking out?” Fergus called as he took his place behind the counter at the bottom of the hall. “I have you in until tomorrow morning.”

  “You think I’m staying in this village another night?” he cried when he reached the bottom step. “My best friend is dead, and the police are interviewing me like I’m a suspect! I’m getting on the first train home.”

  “Surely the police want you to stick around?” Claire suggested.

  “Why?” he glared at her with red puffy eyes. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I came here for a convention, that’s it. A convention! You want to know the truth? I don’t even like Dawn Ship. It’s far too confusing, and every game drags on for hours. I only played because Mark liked it, and now he’s gone, I-I . . .”

  Daniel collapsed into a ball on the bottom step, prompting Fergus to rush off into the backroom. Claire had spoken to Daniel the least of anyone in Damon’s onetime group of friends; her only interaction with him had been here, in the dining room, while Mark was streaming to two thousand people. Still, she gave his shoulder a stiff pat. Fergus returned with a teacup full to the brim and sloshing in the saucer. He handed it to Daniel, who glared up at him with disdain.

  “What’s wrong with you people?” he cried. “Tea? Why would I want tea?”

  “Always helps me.”

  “You can help me by calling a taxi to get me out of here.”

  “I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Claire offered as politely as she could. “Take it from me, it wouldn’t look good.”

  “I don’t even know who you are,” he said, forcing a laugh as he stared up at the ceiling. “You’re just some friend of Damon’s. I don’t even like Damon that much. He complains about his job, and his weight, and his flat, and being single. All. The. Time.”

  “He’s one of my best friends,” she said firmly, folding her arms. “And I was talking as the daughter of a former Detective Inspector. It never looks good when people flee after questioning.” She softened her expression and took a calming breath. “I’m sorry about your friend, I truly am, but you’re as tangled up in this as everyone else.”

  “Why?” he snapped. “I told you, I haven’t done anything.”

  Claire nodded for him to budge over on the step and slid into the tight space.

  “I know about you and Rina,” she whispered. “I know you have feelings for her.”

  Daniel turned to her, wild-eyed. “What?”

  “Sean told me,” she explained. “I know you’ve been caught up in—”

  “Sean is a liar!” Daniel jumped up and marched across the hall before turning around. “He really said that I told him that?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No!” Daniel balled up his fists by his head. “He’s lying. I don’t even like Rina. I never have. Why would I have feelings for her?”

  “Maybe just calm down a little, yeah?” Claire urged. “I know you’re stressed, but getting worked up—”

  “Why should I calm down?” he cried, kicking his suitcase. “I’ve had a day
of people telling me what I’ve done and what I’ve said, and none of it is true. Not even remotely. I don’t love Rina, and I didn’t kill Mark. Mark was my, my . . .”

  Daniel looked like he might collapse into another ball, but instead, he stomped into the dining room. Fergus emerged from the back room with a plate of biscuits, only to immediately spin around and take them back as the dining room door slammed in its frame.

  Not wanting to cause more drama than she already had, Claire set off back to her shop, her mind more full of questions than answers. Clearly, Daniel had anger issues, although that could be chalked up to the death of someone so close to him. His denial had felt as authentic as Damon’s, but in a friend group where people lied to each other so often, she supposed she should take it with a grain of salt despite her instinct to believe him.

  Chapter Twelve

  The cinema screen blackened as the end credits finally finished and the lights came back up. The kids had insisted on staying right until the very end because ‘some films have extra bits’, but this wasn’t one of them. Halfway through the never-ending scroll of names involved in the production, both Amelia and Hugo completely lost interest in their wait and resorted to flicking popcorn at each other. It didn’t take long for the first skirmish to become a full-on war, the two of them running up and down the empty rows of seats, using them for cover as they fired their projectiles.

  “Good job this place emptied out ages ago,” Ryan said as he stood, grabbing his jacket from one of the free seats. “Kids, come on. Get your stuff. We’re . . .”

  Ryan’s voice trailed off as a shower of popcorn rained down on him. A good portion of it bounced off and hit Claire, but she wasn’t the target. Ryan exhaled heavily through his nose while Claire tried and failed to hold in her laughter.