by Trisha Kelly
Rosie closed the kitchen door behind them, taking the bottle with her. When Bear decided to come in again he was going to need another bath. No way was he traipsing mud all over the place!
“Oh! Look… on the table. That wasn’t there before.” Just for a moment, Rosie stood with her mouth wide open in surprise.
Anna pulled a spooked face. There on the coffee table was one sheet of distinctive paper. It was from Dorothea’s papers. Just one sheet. This was going to stop them in their tracks. There was nothing else of concern in the chest they needed to know about. It would all be on this one parchment paper, whatever it was Rosie’s Great Aunt needed them to know.
“Let’s read it together.” Rosie patted the sofa and Anna took a large gulp or three of wine before sitting shoulder to shoulder with her best friend and soon to be stepsister. They huddled close together, staring at the sheet.
“Didn’t James say you had to work it all out yourself though, Rosie? Dorothea could or would only guide you.”
A cold chill swept over them as if someone had suddenly opened the door to a cutting North-Easterly wind, letting in a huge spiritual draft. Rosie grabbed for her glass clutching it tight with both hands. A nervous flutter surfaced deep in her stomach, her sweaty palms and cold fingertips shook slightly, just a little. Adrenaline rushed through her veins.
“Tip it down,” Anna urged, with one hand on her own glass and the other underneath Rosie’s. “Did you feel that?” She whispered in a nervous hush.
“Uh-huh. She floated right through us, I’m sure of it.” With a deep sigh, Rosie took in slow, deep breaths to calm her pounding heart. “Just takes a bit of getting used to, that’s all. I saw her, Anna. For the first time, I saw her, just like you and Jane.”
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Did you see how young she is in spirit? No older than us. I’m surprised there was never a handsome husband.”
Rosie had no answer. For the contents of her aunt’s diary was only a story meant for her eyes. Nothing she could tell her best friend, her Dad, her husband-to-be. It was private and one woman’s secrets to be kept. Secrets to be respected. She felt honoured her aunt had allowed her to read the truth behind the family and how everything came to be. This was their true connection, for the truth would hurt Walter deeply which was never Dorothea’s intention.
From Dorothea’s secret love who died fighting in a war, a young man who would never have met her parent’s approval. To the story of Walter’s mother, who was never faithful to his father. Rosie’s grandmother was a loose woman, it seemed. How Dorothea felt guilty for indirectly causing her own, dear brother’s death. If not for her information he would never have sped off, trying to catch his wife in the act of adultery. Rosie’s thoughts snapped back to the present.
“Perhaps she never found the right person, who knows. Shall we read the notes?” Rosie asked.
A faint linger of Lily of the Valley circled the air around them. At that moment, Dorothea and Rosie had an understanding between them, her aunt’s secrets would remain safe.
“10th of August, well, we already know that, Boo-boo.”
“Bromington-on-sea, that’s a given. Kings Arms. Well, that makes sense doesn’t it? We spoke of an exclusive restaurant. Somewhere to keep James in full view; that place is perfect. Reservations only and one of the few establishments on this coast with a dress code. I hardly think Albert Winston would get through the door in his tatty gardening clothes.”
“Which he has slept in for several days!” Anna grimaced.
“Nine dinner guests,” Rosie added.
“And the potential murderer.” Anna shuddered. The note was specific; the killer would be known that night.
“But, how would he even know where we were?” Rosie frowned. Albert had no car, no way of knowing their secret rendevouz point. The ringing of the phone made them jump.
“Hello? Oh, hi, Matt. Strange you rang, we were just talking about the plans for Saturday night. James is back? Okay, good.” Rosie threw her head back, laughing at whatever Matthew was saying. Anna refilled their glasses and discreetly went to the kitchen, some of the conversation could be private!
“Oh, Bear. You bad dog, what have you done?” Rosie had one ear on Matt and the other on Anna in the kitchen.
“So, The Kings Arms, what do you think? It’s short notice so you really need to reserve it. How many? Nine, of course. Who? Well… James, you, your friend from the station, me, Anna, Dad and Jane, Sybil and Derek. A sort of private pre-wedding meal. It’s out of the way…” Rosie stopped talking. As she’d absently flipped over the piece of parchment there was another few sentences on the back. Almost an add-on to the rest. “Do you happen to have stab vests at the station?” She asked, in a quiet voice.
Anna was back and her face turned ashen. Suddenly, the mess Bear had made paled into insignificance. For not only was Dorothea floating behind Rosie, she was praying with ghostly tears in her eyes. This upcoming murder just took on a whole new dark tone. James was perhaps, not the intended victim.
“Anna. Anna, are you alright?” Rosie replaced the receiver and rushed to her friend’s side. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Sorry, Boo-boo, I heard what you just said about stab vests and then saw Dorothea float through the wall and then Bear has just, well, go take a look.” There was no way, none what-so-ever, Anna could let this happen. James knew nothing more than he’d said, she could never tell Rosie her life could be in danger. There was only one person who could help, Mum. Jane Rose was the most tuned in person in the world. Somehow, Dorothea had to communicate with her and they must keep it to themselves.
“Anna, can you run the bath please?” Rosie called. She was all in a fluster in the kitchen. The naughty pup had dragged in half a dead pigeon, a very stiff corpse which could well have been victim of a Bumble assault at some point. The cat would leap at birds in mid-flight. Bear had rolled in his own mess and his paws and face were thick with dirt. But, he was a welcome distraction right at this moment in time. As smelly, dirty and mischievous as he was, he melted her heart with his big, pleading eyes.
Anna closed the door and took the stairs two at a time. She’d left the bath taps running after calling out mutterings of feeling a bit sickly and going for a lie-down. The low hum of her mum’s sewing machine had never sounded so welcoming before and she was glad that today she was here and not at Walter’s place.
Friday morning
A train chugged out of Waterloo Station. The three- and a half hour journey, gave him plenty of time to think. The hour and a half bus journey after that give him even more time to plan. He’d been here once before, just long enough to install software on the phone which did not belong to Rosie Wodehouse. He slipped in and out of the harbour town in the blink of an eye, lifted the phone from her pocket and returned it in less than five minutes. The internet connection in the Village Hall toilets was perfect. Tourist areas generally had high speed connections. The download was instant.
There weren’t too many young women in the area, usually together, who fitted the description Michael Smith had painted so well. Red-head and pitch-black haired friend. As soon as he had the mobile number, he’d been able to find who it belonged to, connections were everything in his world. Anna Rose, Bromington-on-sea. He hadn’t had a message from Rosie at all, just her friend.
Now he knew exactly where they would all be on Saturday evening. Thanks to this woman, who was in the habit of texting everyone for speed, rather than ringing them. ‘Mum said to let you know she will see you tomorrow Walter, mid-morning. Rosie confirmed table is booked for 19.30 Saturday at the Kings Arms. She says new clothes are in order! Tell Sybil and Derek it’s a formal affair – sorry about that. Mum is busy sewing and Rosie is busy bathing Bear. Both send their love. See you Saturday, Anna xx.’
He read it once more before Googling the Kings Arms and reserving a table for one. The dress code wasn’t a problem for him. The letter hadn’t worked but he never expected it to be tha
t easy really. The old lady’s writing was easy to forge on the envelope after ‘borrowing’ one of her letters from prisoner Michael Smith.
The challenge would be more acceptable to him now. After all, where was the fun without a fight? In the privacy of his first class carriage he switched off the phone. He dismantled the innards and threw them, one piece at a time from his gloved hand. The cheap phone registered to Michael Smith was now gone. Sim card, battery and crushed shell, all tossed out of the window. Had they any sense at all, it would be tracked, pinging from one area to another. Its short shelf life had been mainly a dismantled spy piece, mostly switched off.
He took out his real phone, untraceable, a temporary burner, with a list of all the contact numbers he needed. Everyone in the circle of friends from Bromington-on-sea. Including the millionaire. His possibilities were now endless.
A smile crept over his face, they were expecting a possible murder on this exact date to be carried out by nothing more than a foolish, deluded old man. Mr. Rhubarb Nightshade, as he’d been dubbed by the man on the train. He’d learned so much over the last week or so about local goings on as every text was also forwarded to him. Still, it kept them occupied. Distracted. Leading them up the wrong garden path.
Michael Smith was a fool. A loud-mouth, chancer, an idiot. And for that, the dark-haired traveller was very grateful. The man spoke too much during his time in prison and this information was duly noted by this clever ex-con.
It was an unexpected bonus to find not one victim, but two. The half-sister was minted, the author was in another league. Perhaps he would murder them both after he got what he was coming for. Their fortunes. He would also have more than twenty-four hours to locate this ‘nightshade man’ and point him in the right direction to be framed for all of it. Being of criminal mind, he had a few thoughts as to exactly where he might find him. He kept his head down on the journey to Cranbrook. Paying cash for everything, he was determined not to leave a paper trail. Why, he hadn’t even booked a room anywhere. There was no need.
Given his past burglary experience he was going to spend the night at Bromington Heights. It was luxurious, free and empty. Not only that, he had a good idea where to find his stooge. The fall guy. The tinfoil hat member, Albert Winston.
~
“Anna, listen to me, the things you said last night. There is no way, none at all, that any harm will come to Rosie. How can it? You could be wrong about what you thought you saw. Okay, if spirits shed tears and Dorothea just happened to be hovering behind our Rosie it doesn’t mean she was praying for her in particular, does it? Besides, I couldn’t communicate with her last night. If she was trying to tell us something in confidence, I gave her every chance.”
Jane ruffled her daughter’s hair and gave her a big, warming hug. “Come on you, let’s go downstairs and knock for Rosie. We have dinner outfits to buy and you need to put on a brave face. Whatever’s coming tomorrow we’ll face together, all of us.”
“Do I look okay, Mum?”
“Beautiful, as always.” Jane finished making-up her daughter’s face with glowing blusher and bright red lipstick. “Come on, let’s go.”
Arm in arm, the mother and daughter bounded downstairs, oozing great energy, trying to disguise their concerns. A tap on the front door caused Anna to do an about turn. Peeking through the spy hole she spotted a side on view of a man in uniform. Whoa, shut the front door! You can arrest me and take down my details anytime were the thoughts she was thinking, judging by the grin on her face.
With one hand in her trouser pocket she casually opened the door, feigning surprise at the visitor, just as if she hadn’t been drooling over him a few seconds earlier.
“Hi, can I help you?”
“Morning, miss.” He had a killer smile. “Matthew asked me to drop this note. It’s for Rosie Wodehouse. Something about a new extra-large shirt and other stuff. Things he needs for the posh meal out tomorrow.”
“I’m Anna, Rosie’s best friend. I’ll see she gets it, thank you. Are you Matt’s friend, the one coming tomorrow evening?”
“That’s me, just making up the numbers. Will you be there?”
His eyes hadn’t dropped once, and the faintest trace of a red flush crept upwards from his jawline. Anna concentrated on his pupils, large, fixed on her face. Taking the note from him gave her tingles as their hands slightly brushed together.
“Yes. Making up the numbers too, I guess. You know why we’re really there, don’t you? All eyes will be on James and his safety, but I want you to keep a special eye on Rosie. Can you do that for me? Stay close to her.”
“Don’t you worry yourself. You’ll be in good hands. I promise. I better go, see you tomorrow, Anna.” Then he was gone; almost a minute later, Anna went inside.
“You look a little flushed dear, who was that?” Jane was hovering in front of the window and had very probably seen for herself!
“Someone who works with Matt. Rosie, here you go, this note is for you. Get down, Bear, good boy. Sit!”
“Just someone, hey?” Jane prompted.
“That would be Nick then. The other new guy is working further down the coast. He’s a lot older,” Rosie teased.
“Were you both straining your necks?” Anna pulled a daft face and was probably wishing he had another name. Like Bradley, for example. Ah well, at least she didn’t have to waste her time with another pointless romance. Another visitor arrived. This time it was someone they knew as whoever it was used the buzzer instead of knocking. Rosie pressed the intercom.
“Good morning, Darlings. I couldn’t stand it a moment longer.”
“James, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in… erm, I mean, aren’t you supposed to be at the station?”
“Are you going to let me in, Rosie? Or will you keep me waiting on the doorstep like a, like a… a tradesperson.”
“What are we going to do?” Rosie glanced at Jane and Anna for an answer.
“We have no choice. If we don’t want him to think he could be in danger, then we take him shopping with us and act normally,” Jane blurted.
James Sallow entered the room a moment after, just as Rosie’s mobile rang.
“Rosie, he’s gone. I was only on the front desk for a few minutes and he slipped out of the back door.” Matthew sounded stressed and not his usual laid- back self.
“Morning Matt. Yes, I got your note. I’m just off now with Jane, Anna and James. We’re going to Marshmallows – only the best for tomorrow you know! Brunch in their exclusive restaurant and then back home in time to take Bear to the harbour.”
“He’s with you? Phew, that’s a relief. I’ll place a plain-clothes couple in the distance. We can’t take any chances now and James will never know we’re tailing him. Have fun.” Matt said goodbye and finished the call.
“Marshmallows? Isn’t that a designer outlet?” James was rubbing his hands in glee. “How marvellous of you to know this is just what the doctor ordered. Oh, I do so need some casual mules and a shoulder to floor smoking jacket. A Sherlock type of silk ensemble, do you know what I mean?”
“Elementary!” Jane quipped, grabbing her tapestry bag.
“Oh, you are a love. Shall we?” Offering his arm to the bride-to-be, James led the way. “Dorothea, my dear, stop fluffing around and do keep that young boy in check. His energy levels are far too high, stop feeding him ice-cream!”
“Erm, how is Dorothea?” Rosie was interested to know what James could see.
“Busy, exhausted, run off her feet. She does have some you know, feet, that is. It would do her the world of good to have someone give her lovely red locks a bit of a stylish trim.”
“You talk of spirits as if they are still physical. Ice-cream?” Anna was intrigued.
“Of course, and why not? Once they have learned to use their ghostly limbs again anything is possible!”
“How many ghosts do you sense?” Jane was very intrigued with all things next-worldly.
“Several. It’s an old
place. A lovely big house like this needs a few occupants. I could drop them into my next best-seller somewhere.”
“Shall we take my car? We are going to need a lot of boot space today.”
“That’s a good idea, Jane. Me and Anna can sit in the back and have a bit of a gossip about Nick.” Rosie grimaced as Anna dug her in the ribs. Bear ran along the top of the sofa, backwards and forwards. He would stop barking soon and settle down for his mid-morning snooze.
Bumble sat aloof in Jane’s front window. Acting as if she owned the place. Never once did she move as they all got into the car. Although her tail banged in annoyance at the invisible hand prodding her. She hissed and spat, no longer afraid of the unseen lodgers. Out came her sharp claws. The old lady she could manage, now she realised she meant her no harm. But these children! For the moment, they could touch her with spiritual, chilly digs and she had no way of clawing back. For now.
“Oh, I’ve just had a thought. I’ve left satin bags out next to my sewing machine. If Bumble scratches them, they will be ruined. Back in a tick…” Jane rushed back to the house and took the stairs two at a time.
“Very agile and yet graceful.” James smiled. “Your father is a lucky man, Rosie. Don’t get me wrong, Jane isn’t my type,” he mused.
“Is there anyone in your life, James?” Anna enquired.
“No-one special. I’m too famous and they’re all gold-diggers,” he sighed.
~
Inside the building, Jane stopped in her tracks. Standing in front of her in all her ghostly glory, was Great Aunt Dorothea.
A strange turn of events
The bags slipped from Dorothea’s ethereal fingertips. For a moment they’d been suspended in mid-air, surrounded with an almost transparent spirit mist. The ghost was fading in and out from view. Jane kept her eyes on Dorothea while kneeling down to retrieve the small, satin posy bags.
“Thank you, Dorothea. I know they would have been ruined if Bumble clawed at them. You… you managed to lift them, were you trying to put them somewhere safe?” Jane stepped backwards, feeling for the ottoman lid, the one secure place from cats and dogs, her hidey hole. This was something new on her spectrum, maybe James had somehow ‘lifted’ vibrations in the house or something. At that moment Anna impatiently beeped Jane’s car horn. They were waiting to go!