Eve held out her hand and gave him her friendliest smile. “Thank you for letting me seek refuge in your home, Mr Dryden.”
Ben raised his eyebrows at his father. The old man lifted his left hand and touched hers briefly. “You’re welcome, Miss –“
“Eve Holdsworth. Please call me Eve.”
“We don’t have many visitors.” A few consonants came out slurred. Ben wheeled him closer to the fire. This must be where the body was found, Eve thought. How could they not mind, or at least change the floor where Donna’s blood must have pooled around her head? Or they were used to generations being born and dying in the same house, a thought she found horrific.
She warmed herself in front of the fire, trying hard not to scan the floor for dried blood spatters. If the old man hadn’t been around, she’d have asked Ben for a bathrobe and taken off her wet jeans.
“Is Chris not here?” Ben asked.
“He had to leave early. Another patient, thinking she’d sprained something or other. Damn fool woman.” John’s gaze flickered towards Eve. This is a test, she thought. She kept her silence.
“Did he give you your massage?”
“He’d never leave without doing his job.” A hint of affection broke through the crusty façade. “Aren’t you offering your new friend a seat?”
The words new friend held a hint of derision. Was the old man jealous? He was used to having Ben to himself, Eve thought. Or possibly he wanted to protect his son from making another mistake, although there was no reason to misinterpret the situation.
“Coffee?” Ben asked.
“That would be great.” Eve’s nerves were on edge as she watched Ben leave the room.
John struggled with the controls of his wheelchair. No wonder he preferred Ben to push him.
“Can I help you?” Eve asked.
He struggled harder to get moving. Finally, he grunted in defeat. “Get me to the table. Please.”
She wheeled John in place. He reached for a notepad, probably another left-over from Donna, Eve thought. A white cloud covered most of the paper, with a light-blue background giving it a whimsical look at odds with the Dryden men.
John’s hand searched in a side pocket of his wheelchair. He produced a pen.
“I could write a note for you,” Eve said. A small pause developed. To her, it felt like a battle.
He pushed the notepad towards her. “Write, ginger nuts. Cram of tomato soup. And health bars. Chris likes them.”
Eve noted the three items. “Is that all?”
“You’re not afraid to be here, are you?”
That coffee took awfully long. “No.”
“There is no money.”
Eve looked at him, incredulously. “You seem to have the wrong idea.”
“I’m simply telling you. That’s all. You wouldn’t be the first to think she’s struck – there you are, son.”
He gave Ben a lopsided grin as his son approached, a tray in his hands.
Interesting. John had seen his daughter-in-law as a gold-digger. What a pity Ben interrupted them. She could hardly pick up the thread again.
They drank their coffee wordlessly, the only sounds the crackling of the logs and John’s slurping. He had a special cup, hand-crafted by the looks of it. It made it easier for him not to spill his drink.
Eve got up and gazed out of the window at a dripping clump of trees. The rain had stopped, and the sky was cloudless and blue. The flagstones glistened.
“I’d better get going,” she said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Not at all,” Ben said, more to his father than to her. “We could do with a bit more company.”
John fixed his gaze on her face. His right eyelid blinked slower than the left. She forced herself to return the gaze without moving a muscle. Everything with John seemed to be a test. She intended to pass.
Eve rubbed her thighs on the drive home. The still damp jeans felt uncomfortable, but it had been worth it. She’d breached the threshold.
“There’s a blue throw on the back seat,” Ben said and switched the heater on high.
She half-turned and grabbed it. Together with the blast of warm air it helped with the chill.
“I hope my father didn’t say anything to offend you. In which case I’d apologise.”
“It’s fine,” Eve said.
“He used to be full of life. It’s hard to be reduced to this.”
“He’s got you.”
“Yeah, well. Not much, is it?”
“It seemed enough for him. Although I didn’t get the impression he likes women much.”
“He didn’t like Donna, in the end.”
“Why? Because she wanted to leave you?” Eve kept her tone light, to make it sound like a normal conversation and not an interview.
“I didn’t ask him. They rubbed along well enough before it became obvious we’d be here for the long-haul. Or at least that I was going to stay.”
Almost home. Eve concentrated on the road.
“Where was she going to live? London?”
“No idea.”
“But you had to cancel her movers, didn’t you? Or a rental contract?”
“No.” A nerve in the left corner of his mouth twitched.
“Sorry,” she said. “What shall we talk about? Do you bowl? Or play laser tag? Anything at all.”
“I own a pool table. And I used to play golf in my youth.”
“Pool’s nice. Maybe we could play one day.”
“Maybe,” he said.
Ben stopped his car in a deserted lane, two hundred metres from Eve’s cottage. “I would drive you to the door, but it might be easier for you not to be seen with me.”
“I’m not a coward.”
“Being smart doesn’t equal afraid.”
“Can I offer you a drink?”
“I need to get back to my father. But I appreciate your gesture.”
Eve entered her home wrapped in the throw. Now she needed to clean and return it. Her cottage seemed suddenly empty and soulless despite its character charm. She thought back to Ben’s living room, and the bath room. Like Donna, she never left much of a mark wherever she went.
She peeled off the jeans. Where did Donna intend to live, if she hadn’t rented a place? There could be but one answer: Donna had planned to move in with the mystery man her former colleague mentioned.
Chapter 8
The fire burnt low as Ben faced his father’s inquisition. He’d sat in the car for a good twenty minutes, unwilling to go inside. He wondered how much Eve knew about Donna’s murder. There’d been lurid stories in the cheap rags, milking every gory bit and making up things to fill the gap.
He deliberately stepped onto the spot where he’d found his wife. It had taken him two years before he could bring himself to do it, and even today he tended to avoid it. It felt like walking on her grave.
“Pretty woman,” John said, not looking at his son.
Ben made a disinterested sound.
“Known her long?”
“Why? Anything wrong with her?”
John pushed himself off the table, using his left hand, and turned the wheelchair forty-five degrees.
“Let me do it,” Ben said automatically. ‘Where do you want to go?”
“I want to look you in the eyes.” John’s speech slurred much more; the effort had exhausted him.
Ben planted his feet in front of the wheelchair and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Alright.”
“Promise me you won’t make another horrible mistake.”
“Dad. This is my life.”
John closed his eyes and wheezed.
Ben softened. “I’ve barely met her. It’s nice to have someone else to talk to once in a while, that’s all.”
“You don’t need another Donna,” John said.
Ben clenched his hands inside his pockets. “She’s dead and buried, Dad. Leave it alone.”
“I want us to be happy. As far as that’s possible.”
> John’s eyes opened. They had a moist film clouding them. This, for him, was as close to expressing sentiment as he allowed himself.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Ben said. “We’re a team.” They were, they always had been since his mother died, although sometimes it hard been hard to accept the fierce protectiveness John hid from the rest of the world. That was a lesson Ben wished he’d never had to learn. Love always came at a price.
“You look tired,” he said. “Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll wake you for dinner?”
At least his work could be relied upon to distract him, and his computers never asked awkward questions. He pushed John’s wheelchair to his father’s room and returned to a world without unplanned complications.
Hayley pulled up the duvet until it came up to her nan’s chin. Letty had what she euphemistically called a hibernation day on her sofa. It meant that her arthritis had kept her awake all night and the medication wasn’t enough to dull the pain.
Hayley stroked her grandmother’s cheek. The skin was soft under her touch, despite the wrinkles. Letty clasped Hayley’s hand and pressed it against her face. “You’re my good girl,” she said, her voice thin and shaky. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance.”
Hayley gave Letty a kiss on the forehead. “You’re never a nuisance,” she said as she listened for noise from the pub downstairs. Dom had instructions to ring a bell if he needed her, but he tended to be overly optimistic about how much he could take on. But everything seemed quiet, which suited her. She rarely could sit down for a good chat with her nan. Talking shop wasn’t the same.
As much as she valued Letty’s support, it was hard to keep her nan from overdoing things. The doctor said cooking and helping and being a vital part of the business she had built helped keep Letty going. The problem was to prevent her from doing too much. As convenient as it was to live over the pub, it also meant she could nip down whenever she thought she was needed.
“Your new friend seems nice,” Letty said.
“New friend? Oh, you mean Eve. I’m glad you think so.” Hayley put a small container with two painkillers next to the water jug. “Ben seems to like her too.”
Letty’s eyes fluttered open. “Ben Dryden?”
“That’s why he came to the ‘Green Dragon’ the other night.”
Her nan lay still.
“You don’t think he had anything to do with what happened to his wife?” Hayley asked.
“No, although – “, Letty struggled to prop herself up. Hayley pushed a pillow under Letty’s head. “I’ve always wondered if he doesn’t know more than he lets on.” Letty sank back against the pillow. Her eyes closed.
“I’ll let you sleep,” Hayley said. “We can talk later.”
She gently closed the door behind her. There wasn’t much that escaped her nan. Why would Ben hide something in a murder case? And what could he possibly have to hide?
Eve created a schedule for herself. She needed to time-table her upcoming work-load, her bird-watching (or Ben-watching, a small voice at the back of her head whispered), and any sleuthing had to fit in around these fixed items. She created a worksheet, printed it out and stuck it to the wall behind her computer. It helped to see things written down in black and white, the old-fashioned way.
Did Donna do that as well? Eve tried to remember how much or little she’d relied on an electronic calendar five years ago. Not too much, and if you wanted to keep an appointment secret, the loud pings didn’t help, especially if someone else might glimpse a notification popping up. A paper diary was a lot safer.
Of course, in all likelihood Ben had gotten rid of all of Donna’s belongings. Hayley might know, or at least be able to find out. Just like she might have an idea where Donna might have met a lover. Tongues wagged over nothing in small places and keeping a liaison completely under wraps would be a miracle.
Eve grabbed her purse. The charity shop woman should be her next stop. Her work stint would have to be moved to the evening.
Eve counted finding a metered parking space two doors down from “Helping Hand” as a good omen. The sun peeked through wispy clouds, and a hedgehog shaped rock propped the shop door wide open.
Eve hefted a bag filled with assorted donations out of her car boot. Some of them, like two limited edition impressionist prints bought at the Musee D’Orsay, were her own. Others were recent purchases for this occasion, including a coffee table book about Fashion in Film which she’d secretly drooled over. She hated to part with these things, but they were sacrifices in the name of a good cause. If she wanted to establish a connection with Kim Potter, she needed to give her something good to appraise. If it indeed was Kim in the shop.
A name-tag pinned to a crisp white shirt confirmed her hope.
“Hi,” Eve said. “I hope you accept donations on the spot.” She heaved the bag onto the spotless glass counter which doubled as a jewellery display case. “I’m Eve, by the way.” She eyed a pair of art deco chandelier earrings.
“You’re most welcome, Eve. I’m Kim. Shall we have a look?” She snapped on a pair of surgical gloves, emptied the bag item for item and spread them out on a folding table.
Eve admired her precision, and the sheer bliss in her face. Kim also had an enviable knack of keeping her jeans and shirt immaculate, despite dealing with used books, clothes and knick-knacks. A few sandy hairs clung at knee-height to her jeans. Kim’s hair was a glossy chocolate brown, so it seemed reasonable to surmise they came from the dog.
Water and food bowl were half-filled and on display. A door at the back read “Private”. Eve guessed the dog would be found behind that door.
“Are you sure you want to part with these?” Kim held up the first print. “The Star” captured Degas’ love for the ballet so perfectly, Eve had fallen in love at first sight but somehow never gotten around to hanging it on her wall. The same went for van Gogh’s “Starry Night over the Rhone”.
She could look at them now, not with detachment, but with a kind of wonder. When she bought them, she’d thought she’d figured out a new piece of her identity, only to shelve them. If she found herself, maybe she’d stay in one place.
“Are you okay?” Kim asked.
“Memories. I definitely want to part with these things.” Eve put on a wistful look. “They were meant as gifts.” Kim wouldn’t ask any further questions, if Eve was any judge of character. And she’d make no more hints. This one remark should do the trick to lay the foundations. Eve estimated she’d need a few more visits to gain Kim’s trust. Like fishing; she’d baited the hook, and now she needed patience to reel in her prey.
“Do the proceeds go in equal parts to the charities or how does it work?” she asked.
“Unless the donors have any specific requests, it’s equally divided.”
Eve fingered the brochures for the supported charities as she played through causes that might appeal to Kim personally. “If it’s possible at all and you sell the stuff I brought you, I’d like the money to go to places in support of animals. And women and children.”
Kim’s face lit up. “I’ll make sure it will.”
Eve stayed for fifteen minutes, chatting about travel – Kim dreamt of exploring Italy, but wouldn’t leave her dog for too long, and Eve agreed, listing places worth visiting even on a tight schedule. She left in the comforting glow of having established friendly enough terms to build on.
If traffic ran smoothly, she might catch up with Ben. She’d intended to be a little later than usual anyway. The last thing she wanted was for him to get the wrong impression as well. Whatever Hayley thought, Eve absolutely did not have a crush on Ben. Or anyone.
Yesterday’s rain had made barely an impact on the soil. Only in the grassy overhung spots was the earth squishy. Eve had no problem keeping to the dry part. She’d left the borrowed throw behind. Once she’d washed it, she intended to return it to the house instead of stuffing it into her backpack. Good manners demanded it, and it would give
her a good excuse to chat with Ben’s father again, once she had more information.
Ben stood in his usual place. She glanced around. No rod or bucket in sight. He was simply waiting for her then. A warm fuzzy feeling spread in her stomach.
“Fish not biting after the rain, or do you have all the stock you need?” she asked.
“The pond is sorted. I wanted to make sure you survived the drenching.”
“Not the tiniest sniffle. What about you?” She face-palmed. “I forgot the throw.”
“No worries.”
“I’ve never walked any further than this spot,” Eve said. “What lies behind? Here be dragons?”
He laughed, a full-throated sound that brought on the fuzzy feeling again. “I think you’ve met most of the dangerous creatures in the area.”
“The regulars at the ‘Green Dragon’ looked toothless, and they weren’t exactly breathing fire,” she said, glad about the easy banter.
“Wait until you fall afoul of the Pink Panthers.”
“Why? Would they slow-bowl me to death?”
“If you make a pass at one of their menfolk. Ask Hayley.”
Eve gave an elaborate shudder. “Thanks for the warning, but in that case I’m safe. I’ve seen the men.”
He glanced at her walking shoes. “It’s more forest and a ten-inch drop in the stream bed, if you can take the excitement.”
“Lead me to it.”
Eve decided to stay away from any probing questions, until Ben relaxed even further. He’d made it clear he didn’t want anyone to dig up his past, so she’d be discreet. It almost made her glad to have no real bond with her father, if Ben got so anxious over a man who despite being disabled looked strong enough to live to a ripe old age. Unless John was a lot frailer than he appeared.
She tripped over an exposed tree root.
Ben gripped her arm. “Steady.”
He let go of her arm too quickly for her liking. Something about his behaviour was off.
Let Sleeping Murder Lie: A cozy mystery Page 6