“So what’s your point? Other than my boyfriend is like Margaret Thatcher, which, yeah, thanks for that.”
“That everyone gets tired, but some don’t show it. They don’t show it because they’re too tired to realize they’re tired, but in the end, it catches up with them.”
“So, I get it. You think Tim’s going a bit—well, the same way that Margaret Thatcher went at the end?”
Amanda guffawed. “No, I’m not saying that, not at all.”
“Well, what then?”
“That tiredness takes its toll on everyone in the end. And maybe he had everything teetering in the balance before he met you and now he’s emotionally involved… ”
“Oh, I get it. You think being involved in a relationship has pushed him over the edge.”
“Bingo.”
Scarlett considered Amanda’s words carefully, sipping her drink. Several minutes passed before she was shaken out of her reverie.
Amanda grinned. “Honestly, it’s like I’m waiting for that Roman emperor — what was his name? The one that held his thumb up for someone to live or turned it down if he wanted them to die.”
Scarlett exhaled slowly. “I’ll admit… it’s a possibility,” she said finally.
Amanda placed a hand over her chest. “I’m so relieved. So, you’re going to stop worrying?”
Scarlett contorted her mouth as if weighing things out. “Not sure. I think it might be more than that, and if it is—then fine.”
The front door opened and a woman ran in, shouting her head off. Amanda pointed past Scarlett’s shoulder. “What’s going on there?”
The woman was turning frantically around the room, desperately trying to get the attention of anyone who might listen to her. “Please, someone call the police!”
Scarlett was the first to get to her feet and address the woman. “Okay, okay.” She gestured at Amanda to take out her phone. “What’s happened?”
The woman trembled, staring at Scarlett blankly “I—I—.”
She passed the woman her hot chocolate and gestured for her to sit down. “Here, have a drink of this.”
The woman took one sip and sat at the table across the aisle. It seemed to calm her somewhat. “Thank you,” she said, passing the mug back.
Smiling at the woman, she said “no problem. I’m Scarlett by the way and this is my friend, Amanda.”
“Rosa. Nice to meet you, Scarlett. Amanda.”
“Nice to meet you too, Rosa. So, what’s going on?”
“Well, I was cleaning up in the flat upstairs—I’m the cleaner there—and I saw it on the couch.”
Amanda adopted her most patient expression. “Saw it? Saw what?”
“The… ” Rosa covered her face with her hands.
“Come on, it’s OK, no-one’s listening.” Scarlett looked around to confirm her suspicions that every single pair of eyes in the shop was on them. “What did you see?”
“A body. I saw a dead body.”
Scarlett reared back. “A body? Are you sure?”
The woman nodded, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. I may be getting on a bit, but I still know a dead body when I see one.”
Scarlett put her jacket on. “Come on then, show me. Amanda, dial 999 while I go with her?”
Amanda nodded and lifted her phone to her ear.
+++
Flat 2b, above Costa Coffee, Bicester
They left the warm, cozy café with its friendly atmosphere and delicious aromas to step outside. Rosa led them straight back into the adjacent front door, and up the carpeted stairs, chattering anxiously the whole way.
She unlocked a heavy fire door and led Scarlett up a darkened staircase. After climbing the first flight of stairs, Rosa flicked a switch and the stairwell illuminated.
“Oh, just nip back and close the door, will you?”
Scarlett scurried back the way she’d come and heaved the door shut. When she returned to Rosa, she noticed a strange smell, faint at first.
As she ascended further, the smell seemed to permeate the atmosphere. Scarlett hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was.
At the top of the stairs Rosa stood by the front door of flat 2B, which was ajar. She looked at them despairingly and then shoved it open, standing aside.
The door swung open and Scarlett’s stomach churned. “Oh my God,” she said, clapping a hand over her mouth.
For the first time, they were hit by the full force of the stench.
“Here.” Rosa pointed at a heap on a couch in the middle of the light-filled room.
The smell grew stronger as Scarlett crept nearer. Stooping to get a look at the body, she took a step back, looked away and thrust a hand over her eyes. His jersey was covered in blood stains, which were most prominent around a solitary stab wound in his abdomen. Scarlett let her gaze drift towards his arm, which drooped down the side of the couch, knuckles scraping the floor, and saw that in his hand… was a phone.
And that smell was rotting flesh. Aside from on the body, there wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere else.
She forced herself to turn away from the horrifying scene, hoping to find an explanation for it somewhere in the room. Surprisingly, the living room looked well kept, clean almost. A window, spanning the entire width of the room, looked out on a labyrinth of rooftops and back streets. This was a side of town that she usually only saw when going around the back of the Vintners’s to help with a delivery. She knew, therefore, that there were bound to be people outside having a cigarette, so she proceeded with caution.
A coffee table occupied the middle of the room, in front of the couch, which looked like it had been around since the beginning of time. Creeping forwards, eyes affixed on the window, her shin nudged into the corner of the table.
“Ouch!” she whispered, stooping to rub her grazed leg. Something on the table caught her eye. It was a card, with red ribbons tied in a bow. Not daring to touch it, she bent down for a closer look and came across a melted box of chocolates that looked like its contents had merged into a lake of sweet, brown goo.
Despite everything, Scarlett’s face lit up. “Interesting.”
Grinning, she bent down closer to inspect the card and found it to be adorned with a red lipstick kiss. Even more interesting than that, it was signed with a letter V.
“Rosa?”
Rosa moved across the room to stand behind Scarlett. “You found something?”
Scarlett nodded. “A melted box of chocolates and a card. And look at this.” She pointed at the signature.
Rosa furrowed her brow as if racking her brains. “Letter V? Don’t know what that might stand for.”
“Vivian? Veronica? Think.” Scarlett looked over at Rosa. “Do you know his name?”
Rosa nodded. “Robert McMillan.”
“And how do you know him? Are you his cleaner?”
“Yes. But I only come once a month.”
“So, there’s no way of telling how long he’s been here?”
Rosa shook her head. “Not from me, there isn’t. But there might be someone else that could shed some light onto the matter.”
“Who might that be? Do you know?”
Rosa nodded. “His girlfriend comes here a lot.”
“What’s she called? Do you know?”
“Yes… well, not really.”
Scarlett shook her head in exasperation. “Do you know her name or don’t you?”
“It was some kind of bird, let me think… Robin, Blackbird, something like that.”
Scarlett put on her most serious expression. The situation was far too grave to be amused by Rosa’s ridiculous suggestions.
“Right well, I’m going to have a quick look ‘round. See if I can find any more clues before the police get here. You stay put.”
Rosa nodded and folded her arms.
The first place she tried was the bathroom. An old, rusty shower curtain hung over an olive-colored bathtub, with a partially tiled wall on the far side. The sink was olive
too, with the kind of old-fashioned taps that she’d seen in ‘70s movies.
Pulling her sleeves over her hands to avoid leaving fingerprints as she moved things around, she examined every square inch of the bathroom for clues. It was too dark to see anything, but she hesitated to switch on the light.
She examined the shower head. The shower unit on the wall looked like it had never been cleaned, as did all the taps. Concluding it to be one of those showers that emits a fine drizzle of boiling water, then freezes you or cuts out altogether, she moved on. If the bathroom was anything to go by, this was not a luxury flat, meaning Robert McMillan was most likely not a wealthy man.
The ratty, worn out linoleum was next on her agenda. Bending down, she scrutinized every tile, paying close attention to the floorboards exposed by the worn out patches. The floorboards intrigued her, but there was no way of pursuing her investigation of them further without tearing up the linoleum.
The walls were a creamy green color. On the wall opposite the tub there was a huge damp patch, just in front of the toilet. It was on this wall that she came across an old bathroom cabinet. Looking closer, she found it to be full of medicines. It was just a shame that she couldn’t open the transparent plastic doors to get a closer look. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb the crime scene.
She found Rosa in the bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed.
“There’s nothing to report in the bathroom. Maybe there’ll be something in here.”
Rosa nodded and moved her legs in until her heels touched the side of the bed. “Be my guest.”
Scarlett felt suddenly anxious. “Rosa, you try and think of the girlfriend’s name while I have a quick look around. Okay?”
Rosa nodded. “No problem.”
Scarlett bent down to inspect the carpet. It looked like green horse hair. There were some drawers under the bed, but these were full of old, threadbare towels. There was nothing in the wardrobe either, apart from some clothes that betrayed his lack of style.
“Rosa, have you—” She looked up, but the room was empty. She assumed Rosa must have snuck right past her and left the flat whilst she was looking for clues. Scarlett put her ear to the door of the flat. There was a woman’s voice in the stairwell, which she soon identified as Rosa’s. She was talking to a man or men to be more precise.
“Okay, let’s take a look.” One of the voices said loud and clear.
Scarlett stepped away from the door and pretended to be inspecting the skirting board as footsteps approached.
The door swung open and several policemen strode in, laughing and joking like they owned the place. Scarlett knew from their uniforms that these were not high-ranking officers. They’d sent some regular bobbies to take a look and ascertain if it was worth calling in the big guns.
Scarlett thought back to a time, not too long ago, when she’d had no dealings with the police. Back then, she wouldn’t have been able to tell a constable from a chief inspector. Things had definitely changed since then, and she didn’t know if this was for the better or worse.
“What the—what do you think you’re doing?”
Scarlett felt herself blushing. “I, errr, was just looking around. Thought I’d try and find anything that you might deem useful.”
The policeman, whose voice she recognized as being the one Rosa had been talking to on the stairs, also had a familiar face.
“Good afternoon, miss. PC Baldwin,” he said, extending a hand.
She shook his hand. “Scarlett Slater.”
“Charmed. Now then, Scarlett, get out of my way.”
She moved aside to let him enter the living room and turned to leave.
“Just hang on a minute. Where do you think you’re going?”
Scarlett pivoted around to see him standing feet crossed, propping himself up against the wall. He pointed to the floor in front of him. “Come here. I want a word with you.”
Scarlett thought about snapping back, telling him she wasn’t a dog, but decided not to take the bait. She trudged back, coming to a halt inches away from him, their toes almost touching.
PC Baldwin’s face looked awash with annoyance. “You can’t just show up at a crime scene and go swanning off at your convenience.”
“I know that, but I really need to get back to work. I’m late already.”
“Is that right? Serves you right for going ‘round snooping then, doesn’t it? Shoving your nose in where it doesn’t concern you?”
“I was only trying to help.”
“Trying to help.” He sniggered
Out of nowhere, Karl’s face flashed into her head. She’d been late a few times recently and got the impression she was on thin ice with him. The wrath of Karl was the last thing she needed.
“Please. I’m going to be late. I don’t want to—”
“This won’t take long.”
Scarlett stood rooted to the spot while the policeman fired questions at her.
“Are you being deliberately difficult, miss? Because if you are… ”
“No, I’m not. I just need to get back to work. My boss, he’s—he just won’t understand.”
The policeman’s expression softened a tad. “OK then, you’ve done nothing wrong I suppose, have you? I don’t want to go getting you into trouble at work.”
“Thank you, officer.”
“Go on then, you get off back to work.”
She turned and headed for the door.
“But!”
Scarlett stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. “But what?”
“There are lots of unanswered questions, so we’ll be in touch shortly. Where do you work?”
“Bicester Vintners.”
“Well, you go on then.”
This was much easier than she’d imagined it would be. Surely the DCIs wouldn’t have been willing to let her leave so easily if she had been a suspect.
Scarlett ran down the stairs without pausing or even looking up to glance through the windows. It was only once she’d reached the ground floor that she noticed the decidedly fresher air. She’d become used to the smell, though the thought of going back inside repulsed her.
She couldn’t resist replaying the events again and again in her mind. The clues were there somewhere, they had to be. Maybe the card or chocolates had something to do with it. Maybe they weren’t intended for him. Maybe his girlfriend had bought them for a lover and he’d found them. The two of them might have fought to the death, with Robert losing the battle. However, by the time she’d reached the door, she’d already dismissed this theory.
If there had been a fight, there would have been clues—and witnesses. No, this was a stupid theory that a pro would never have come up with. Once again, she’d let her imagination run away with itself.
Opening the door she stepped back onto the street. Taking in a few gulps of fresh air she came to the conclusion that she only got through her current episode relatively unscathed because she’d experienced so many terrible things and disgusting smells at the base that time they’d rescued Ronnie.
She saw Amanda hanging around, staring down at her phone, looking concerned and baffled in equal measures.
She crept up behind her and tapped Amanda on the shoulder. “Hi!”
Amanda jumped and swung around. “Scarlett! Don’t do that to me.”
She grinned. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
“Mmm. You used up your quota of unfunny jokes when you flaunted your marshmallows and chocolate earlier.”
“Sorry.”
Amanda grinned. “It’s okay. I was just reaping some revenge of my own.”
Scarlett smiled.
Curious, Amanda probed “So, what’s going on then? Why did the two of you go running out like that? And why was the place swarming with the Old Bill?”
She chuckled. “The Old Bill, never heard you say that before. You sound like a right cockney gangster.”
“Okay, the boys in blue, then. So, what happened?”
“W
ell...” Scarlett’s jovial expression dissipated. “There was a murder.”
Amanda’s jaw dropped. “A murder? Really?”
Scarlett nodded.
“What happened? Come on, fill me in.”
“Rosa, the woman that caused the commotion in the cafe, took me to the flat above.” She pointed behind her. “In the living room, there he was, in a heap on the couch.”
“Oh my God! So go on, what had happened?”
“We don’t know for sure, but from the looks of things, he’d been stabbed, just once, in the abdomen. And the smell… ” She felt herself turn pale.
“What smell?”
“It hits you the minute you step into the building. It was enough to make me retch as we got closer and then when I was in the flat, I almost… I almost couldn’t hold it in.”
“So what was it, did you find out?”
“Yeah. It was decaying flesh. Looked like he’d been there for quite some time.”
“Errgh. Lovely image. I suppose there were maggots crawling over him too, weren’t there?”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, but here’s the most interesting thing—he was clutching his phone.”
Amanda nodded. “Mmm. That is interesting.”
“It begs the question, why didn’t he phone for help? That’s what I’d like to know.”
The building behind them reverberated to the sound of thundering footsteps and the door opened.
Scarlett looked down at the sidewalk. “I’ve got to run,” she said, looking up without raising her chin. “I was due back at work ages ago. Catch up with you later, I promise.”
She sprinted along the sidewalk, looking over her shoulder at the departing policemen and settled into a jog. If she was stopped again for questioning, Karl would blow his top. Quite literally.
CHAPTER THREE
Bicester Vintners, Market Square, Bicester
“Hi Karl, so sorry I’m late. Uh, again. I—”
Karl was standing behind the counter, face like a slapped arse. Without looking up, he raised a hand signalling for her to stop talking.
Raven (A Very British Witch Book 4) Page 3