by Ruby Loren
Officer Kelly looked from one man to the other, obviously expecting there to be some kind of explosive showdown.
“Right. I suppose I’ll have to come back later,” the man said, changing his tune completely.
If anyone had just been listening in to the conversation, they would have assumed that the situation had somehow, miraculously, been diffused, but I’d been watching the men’s eyes. There’d been the promise of fresh murder in the newcomer’s and an equally dangerous warning in the detective’s gaze. Whatever history these two men shared, it was nothing pleasant.
I hoped for both the detective’s and Tiff’s sake that it was a long time before these two men crossed paths again. Never before had I sensed so much unfinished business.
I watched the rude man’s Mercedes drive away and I wondered.
I ended up driving Yolanda, Tiff, and myself back to the estate agents. Tristan Herriot was there gathering some papers together. He managed a brief sharing of condolences before explaining that the police had wanted him to bring down a record of all the houses Josh had been showing to people and a few other details besides.
“We found the perfect house!” Yolanda said, incredibly out of place.
Tristan frowned for a moment, his eyes even skating over Tiff. “Great,” he replied, obviously not caring. Then he walked out of the estate agents.
A moment later, there was a knock on the shop door.
“Thank goodness you’re here!” Yolanda said, rushing over to let Esme in.
“Thanks for calling me,” the other woman replied, walking into the estate agents.
I knew I was frowning. Yolanda had lied to Officer Kelly about who she’d been calling. Gossip about who was dead and how it had happened was no doubt everywhere by now.
“I’m just so pleased I was at my ladies’ book club when it happened,” Esme told us all. “I don’t mean to be callous, but you have no idea of the heat I was under when poor Harry died! I really thought they were going to lock me up for good.”
“What book were you reading?” Tiff asked, probably thinking along the same lines as I was - there was no way Esme was part of some fuddy-duddy book club.
“Oh, I think it was called Her Rampant Stallion, or something like that. You should see the cover!” she said, fluttering a hand over her heart. I quickly got the impression that the book had very little to do with horses and a lot more to do with racy romance. I supposed that it wasn’t that much of a surprise that Esme had expensive taste if the only books she ever read were billionaire romances. What average man could keep up with that?
“Poor dear Josh, he was always such a nice boy,” Esme said, not crediting the young man with adulthood.
“I thought it looked like he did it to himself,” Yolanda whispered, immediately breaking Officer Kelly’s request.
Esme looked puzzled. “Then it wasn’t another murder? But you said on the phone…”
“She thinks he was strangled, like Harry.” Yolanda tipped her head back at me and Esme stared over.
I shrugged, unwilling to say anything more. I was not going to be drawn into a gossip-fest less than an hour after a murder had taken place.
“It’s getting late,” Tiff said, looking out at the night sky.
I walked over to the window with her and looked up at the stars. Auryn had gone to an evening get together of The Lords of the Downs, and for once, I found I was glad he was otherwise engaged. He’d be put-out to say the least when he found out I’d unwittingly got very close to yet another killer.
A pair of blue flashing lights came down the street. The car pulled up outside of the estate agents, causing mild panic within.
“Heavens! They’re here to arrest me!” Esme said, all of a flutter.
She seized Yolanda and they held each other like frightened rabbits.
Officer Kelly and Officer Ernesto stepped out of the car. When Officer Kelly walked in and saw that Esme was with us, she rolled her eyes. “I suppose it’s useful that you’re all here. We have some further questions now the scene has been examined, and it does look like there was indeed foul play involved.”
“It wasn’t suicide,” Esme observed and then theatrically covered her mouth, remembering she wasn’t supposed to know anything about any crime that may or may not have occurred. “I was at my book club!” she shouted out.
Officer Kelly looked down at her tablet and I sensed she was taking a very deep breath. “Do any of you know of any reason someone may have wanted to end the life of Josh Finnigan?”
There was a lot of foot shuffling.
“I might have an idea,” I said to the police officers, knowing I could be about to get in trouble with the law for withholding evidence. I reassured myself that it had just been talk, and nothing could have been done with overheard chatter. “I was having lunch at the same restaurant as Josh and Felicity Farley. They were having a rather heated conversation and I got the impression that Felicity believed that Josh knew who had killed her husband.” I bit my lip. “Josh seemed pretty frightened. I don’t wish to speculate, but he could even have been dining with the killer herself - and known it.” I sighed. “Either way, it seems to me that the killer, whoever they may be, thought that Josh knew who they were and silenced him for good.”
The door to the estate agents opened and Felicity Farley herself walked in.
“How many people did you call?!” Officer Kelly asked Yolanda, looking exasperated.
“I just heard the news. I’m so sorry you’ve lost one of your own, too,” Felicity said, clutching a hand to her heart. I noted that she hadn’t failed to draw attention to her own loss whilst expressing her sympathy. I thought Felicity Farley was rather enjoying being a widow.
“Mrs Farley, where were you this evening between the hours of seven and eight o’clock?” Officer Ernesto asked.
Felicity looked all of a flutter for a second. “Let’s see… I was out.”
“Out where?” he pressed.
“Just walking around. You know…”
I honestly didn’t think Felicity Farley could be behaving more suspiciously if she’d tried.
Officer Kelly took another deep breath and stepped in. “Ma’am, if you don’t tell us where you were, we’ll be forced to assume that you don’t have an alibi for the time in question, and given that you were recently witnessed arguing with the deceased… I’m sure I don’t need to fill in the blanks for you.”
“I told you, I was out walking,” Felicity Farley, said, sticking with her story.
My eyes went to the knees of her dark beige trousers. I hadn’t noticed before, but there were two dark patches on them. My mind jumped straight to blood, but then I realised there were green strands of grass also stuck there, and the marks had all the characteristics of grass stains. I could only think of a couple of reasons why Felicity Farley might have grass stains on her knees, and I wasn’t sure either was good.
“Mrs Farley, we’re trying to bring your husband’s killer to justice. If you know something that could help us, we’ll be able to bring them to justice a lot sooner. And before anyone else gets killed,” Officer Kelly added.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felicity replied, but it was all too obvious that she was keeping something quiet.
I squinted at her from behind my glasses, wondering how much she really knew. Even though her alibi for tonight was fairly terrible, I didn’t believe that she’d killed her husband. I also didn’t think she’d killed Josh. There were grass stains on Felicity Farley’s knees, and the recent drought we’d been experiencing meant that anyone who wasn’t sneakily watering their lawn during the hosepipe ban would have seen their grass burnt to a dry crisp. The house Josh had been murdered in was surrounded by dead grass, as the owner hadn’t been back in a long time. Wherever Felicity had been crawling around on her knees, it hadn’t been at the scene of the crime.
“Mrs Farley…” Officer Kelly tried again, but it was no use. The other woman had clammed up for good. The
re was a smug look on her face that hinted she knew something we all didn’t and that she, and she alone, would do something about it. I found I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not. Had Josh told her the identity of the killer? Had she guessed it? I didn’t know.
“I suppose there aren’t any further questions,” Officer Kelly said, seriously put-out by the whole experience. “I suggest all of you go home and get some rest, and then we’ll see.” She looked at Felicity Farley in particular and I just knew she wanted to say something like ‘don’t leave town’.
I’d said goodbye to Tiff and was driving back towards home, thinking about Felicity Farley. It was clear from the way that Georgina had spoken to her that the high-flying lawyer had always considered Felicity Farley to be a foolish woman, cowed by her ex-husband - a man who'd never changed his spots, but had carried right on with his old cheating ways. Now he was gone, she’d somehow become the opposite - someone who was completely unyielding, even when it was obvious to all those around them that they were making a wrong and even dangerous choice.
I wondered again if Felicity Farley really did know anything and concluded that she didn’t. If the killer went after her I had no doubt that it would be pointless.
My mind jumped back to poor, dead Josh Finnigan and the circumstances that had led him to his awful end. Yolanda had been surprised to see Josh’s car outside of a property that it was all too clear they had to schedule both viewings and check-ups with the owner before visiting. The owner had mentioned paying the estate agents more in order for them to check to make sure the place wasn't falling down. From that, I assumed that the house was only being shown by Herriot’s Houses. I would have to check if that was correct, but if it was, that would make it very likely that Josh let the killer into the house. Again, the killing had taken place in the bedroom. It was definitely enough to make me wonder if Josh had had feelings for the person who had ended his life. What a cruel, terrible trick! I thought, thoroughly depressed by it all.
To make matters worse, I had no idea what any of it was for. Was there simply a real psychopath on the loose, or was there some dark motive that I’d thus far missed? I had no clue.
My phone rang a little while after I’d been home. I’d expected it to be the police calling to follow up with some more questions, but instead it was Tiff.
“I think we’re going to buy the house,” she said, sounding dazed.
“Oh?” I replied, baffled as to how it could have come about.
“Tristan went over to the crime scene to deliver those papers. When he was there, Alex must have mentioned the house we saw today. As luck would have it, Tristan had a second set of keys for the property with him. Crime scenes apparently have a lot more standing around and doing nothing than you’d expect, so it wasn’t actually too difficult for Alex to take a little break and go over to the other house. The owners are apparently away for a few days. He says he’s going to visit it again in the morning to see what it looks like in the light - he has to go back to the murder house anyway - but he’s seriously thinking about putting in an offer.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” I said, knowing I sounded cautious.
“It is. I know, Madi, I know…” Tiff said, jumping straight to her other problem. “I have to do something. I know. I will… before it’s too late,” she added.
“Everything will be fine,” I reassured her. No matter what happened, I would make sure that I was there for her, the way she always was for me.
“Thanks. And thanks for telling me to stay behind in the car earlier. I feel silly for not going in but… I think I’m glad.”
“There was no need for more people to have to see that,” I told her, pleased she didn’t think I’d been babying her.
“I hope you can sleep all right! Give me a call if you can’t,” Tiff said. I assured her that I would even though I of course had no intention of disturbing her sleep. I would have to deal with any resultant insomnia in my own fashion.
I ended the call and realised I was standing vacantly in the hallway entrance to the house with the door still open behind me. I pulled it shut and immediately wrinkled my nose at the smell of fox musk that still pervaded. It reminded me of the drama with the lynx that had happened that morning and I spared a thought to wonder if the animal welfare group had managed to catch it, or if Auryn’s hunter frenemy had got there first. I shook my head, knowing it would have to wait until the morning. Right now, I needed something cheerful to take my mind off the dreadful evening I’d had.
I walked into the kitchen and the smell got stronger. I was still trying to gather my tired faculties to remember if Auryn and I had got around to cleaning up after the foxes had got in when I heard something sigh in its sleep. After concluding that it definitely hadn’t smelled like this in the kitchen this morning, I crouched down and looked under the table. There was a fox curled up on the chair next to me and another on the chair opposite. In-between them on his own chair was Lucky. He opened a sleepy eye and looked at me before shutting it again.
I straightened up and sighed, mentally promising that the microchip cat-flap really needed to be a priority. I wasn’t sure it would be foolproof, but we had to try. Otherwise we faced our house turning into a rather smelly fox den.
I was still considering my options when there was the clink clink of claws on wooden floor and Rameses came round the corner.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered wondering whether to head-off the sleepy hound. He may not have displayed any hunting instincts thus far, but I was well-aware that he was bred for chasing small furry animals. After all - he and Lucky had got off to a bumpy start. “While you've been sleeping, we’ve been invaded,” I told the tan coloured dog, who sniffed and then sneezed - loudly.
Three heads looked up from their chairs.
Rameses stared and then cautiously wagged his tail.
“Oh… not you as well!” I said, thoroughly peeved when the two foxes crept over, testing out this newcomer. Rameses whined a little, which made them jump, but the next moment, he was down on his front paws with his tail-end in the air, ready to play.
The foxes yipped excitedly and one of them jumped up at him.
He let out a playful bark and they began to chase around the kitchen, with the foxes jumping up onto the table and off again. Lucky watched them go round and round with the aloof air that only cats possess.
“Outside, the lot of you!” I said, opening the door and pointing the hyperactive animals in the right direction. Two orange streaks and one gold one raced into the night. Lucky stayed on his chair, giving me his best ‘you didn’t mean me, did you?’ look.
“I did mean you. Shoo! You’re the one who started all of this.” I opened the door wider and my black and white cat slunk outside after the others. I was willing to bet that I’d be paying for my insolence later when he dumped something dead in the bed.
I scratched my arm and then groaned. “You’re all going to have to be treated for fleas,” I muttered, knowing that by the end of that ordeal, I’d be lucky to have any animal friends left at all. If Lucky and Rameses were going to play with wild animals then they would have to suffer the consequences.
I walked out of the kitchen, making sure to shut the door behind me. I couldn’t keep the foxes out, but I could limit their space to the kitchen only - for now.
I climbed up the stairs, pausing on the landing to watch the three streaks darting around in the star-lit garden. I could hear Rameses barking and the foxes calling back in their shrieking way. Lucky was already gone - a dark shadow in the night - but that didn’t surprise me. Cats did what they wanted, when they wanted. If Rameses had taken on Lucky’s game, then the cat would be sure to want to do something else.
I shook my head, knowing that once the game was over, Rameses would howl to be let back in. I hoped he didn’t teach his new fox friends the same trick. It occurred to me that if the friends of his old owner could see the dog now they’d be deeply disappointed.
I settled down in my of
fice and opened my sketchbook. The finished book for printing had been sent off, special delivery, to my publishers for them to look at, before they added the colours. Previously, I’d been the one to do all of that, but they’d expressed their need for speed and according to them, they had a whole team who knew my style and could take on the colouring work on PhotoShop. I’d figured that wasn’t cheating too much. Anyway, I welcomed having more time to spend on my webcomic. I opened my laptop and looked at the latest panel I’d sketched out this morning. In it, Lucky and the foxes were hatching daring plans to invade the zookeeper’s house in order to raid the fridge. It was startlingly nefarious for Lucky, who was usually drawn as a friend to all animals, but I occasionally liked to show his more devious, more cat-like side.
I smiled a little at the comic, reflecting that the best strips were those that were closest to the truth. Instead of finishing the comic onscreen, my hand was drawn to my notebook. It wasn’t long before I was sketching my memories of the lynx. It had been a beautiful animal, I realised, and its condition had been very good indeed. I knew it had been surviving on a rather exotic diet of flamingo, but even so, it couldn’t have been on the loose for long - both without being seen and in such good condition.
I made the lynx’s facial expression quizzical and looked questioningly back at it.
“I hope you’re okay,” I said to the drawing. Sometimes I wished that life was like Monday’s Menagerie, where everything always turned out right in the end.
10
Weddings and Wagers
I woke up thinking about the house-hunter. Auryn was next to me, but still snoring. I decided to leave him that way. He hadn’t been home when I’d gone to sleep, so he couldn’t have been in bed for long.
My realisation that Josh had probably let the killer in that night, somehow not realising the danger it put him in, had led me to wonder who he might possibly trust that much. It was only when I’d woken up, that I’d remembered the strange comment Tristan had made about the house-hunter and that they were hunting for something other than houses. Might Josh have been one of the house-hunter’s targets? I knew she’d been cleared of any involvement in Harry Farley’s murder, but could she have been up to no good with the late receptionist?