by Sherri Bryan
“So. Enlighten us, Ryan. Why are you in such desperate need of £20,000?”
Ryan clenched his teeth. “I need the money for me, and for my dad. Actually, I don’t need it until next year, but I wanted to get my hands on it as soon as possible, so I could stop worrying about it.” He wiped his palms on his sweatshirt.
“And what do you need it for?”
“To help put me through college next year, and to pay for home care for Dad while I’m away during the day. He’s got really weak lungs and he suffers with chronic asthma – not a good combination.” He gave a bitter laugh. “The doctors say the asthma is caused by allergies, but he’s had loads of tests and none of them have told us what he’s allergic to … it’s crazy.
“Anyway, since Mum died last year, I’ve been looking after things on my own – the cooking, cleaning, washing - stuff like that - and caring for Dad, too. Don’t get me wrong, I like doing it, but Dad wants me to keep on with my studies, and if I can, so do I. Thing is, I can’t do both, so I need the money. It would just be a real weight off my mind knowing that If I’m able to go to college, Dad will be okay.” He took a long, outward breath.
“That’s it. I’ve told you everything. Can I go now? I can’t miss the last bus, not tonight when Dad’s alone in the house.”
Nathan looked at the young man sitting opposite him and in his heart, knew that he’d been telling the truth. It would still be necessary to check the DNA sample from him, to ascertain that the makeup, skin and blood traces found under Miranda’s nail were his, but that was merely a formality. Nathan was prepared to bet his job that Ryan had had no involvement in her death.
“Interview concluded at 10.20 pm. Those present, Chief Inspector Nathan Costello, PC Fiona Farrell, Mr James Lord, defence solicitor, and Mr Ryan Benson. Mr Benson, you are free to go.”
James Lord and Ryan shook hands and the solicitor left quickly, already on his phone to another client. Ryan followed him out of the room, eager to get to the bus stop. He was almost at the doors when Nathan called him back.
“Ryan – hold on.”
Ryan looked at the clock on the wall of the lobby – it was 10.25 pm.
“Come on, I’ll drive you home.” Nathan strode past him out of the station doors.
“What? You’re going to give me a lift home?”
“Unless you’d rather make a run for the bus?” Nathan looked back, jangling his car keys.
“No way, I’m coming with you. Thanks.” Ryan caught up and they walked in silence to Nathan’s car.
“Take the first left and then it’s all the way to the end and right at the t-junction. It’s the white house with the blue shutters. It should only take about fifteen minutes.” Ryan flicked idly through Nathan’s CD’s as he gave him directions.
“Lady Antebellum, The Script, Maroon 5, ZZ Top, Elvis, Bruno Mars, Bon Jovi, Harry Connick Jr., Dolly Parton … huh, interesting. Did you know that an eclectic taste in music is a sign of an easy-going and forgiving nature?” Ryan gave Nathan a sideways glance and was pleased to see the glimmer of a smile on his lips.
“Actually, the Dolly CD is my girlfriend’s. She’s a huge fan.”
Ryan nodded, distractedly twisting the stud in his nose. “She’s the woman in the café, right? Yeah, I met her a few days ago. She’s pretty cool.”
“I think so,” said Nathan.
They drove in silence for a few minutes before Nathan said, “So your dad’s condition. Is it treatable?”
Ryan nodded. “Treatable, but not curable. He has, like, a million inhalers that he has to take every day and he’s hooked up to an oxygen tank for when he’s really bad, but yeah, it’s treatable.”
“What about a transplant? Is that a possibility?” asked Nathan.
Ryan shook his head. “Because of his age, I don’t think it’s something the doctors would consider now, but when he was younger, I know they were concerned about the possibility of him having an allergic reaction while he was under the anaesthetic, and not being able to bring him round.
“Anyway, he’s a tough old boot but I reckon he’ll always need his wheelchair, because he can’t walk more than a few steps without getting breathless. It would be fantastic if he could have one of those really hi-tech electric wheelchairs. Y’know, the type that buzz around really fast. And it’d be amazing if he could see a lung specialist, but we’re talking big money for something like that.”
He shrugged and laughed good-humouredly, and Nathan felt his heartstrings tug a little at the young man’s resolve to do right for his father.
“Look, can I give you a little advice? You can tell me to mind my own business, but just hear me out, will you?”
“Uh … okay.” Ryan waited to hear what advice the Chief Inspector of the St. Eves police force could possibly be about to give him.
“Look, I’m not proud of myself when I tell you that I totally misjudged you, but you’ve really proved me wrong. You’re a good kid. Let’s face it - anyone who’s taken on what you have without complaining can’t be all bad!” He smiled, and Ryan’s slightly embarrassed face beamed back at him.
“If you can prove that you’re reliable, and you really want to work, I can put in a good word for you with a couple of bar owners I know. I reckon they’d want you to do a trial first, but if things worked out okay, who knows?
“I’ve got to tell you one thing, though, and you may not like it. You might need to lose some of the piercings if you get a job in a bar. I know it takes all sorts to make a world, but in case you hadn’t noticed, St. Eves isn’t the most forward-thinking town, and I’m not sure that most people around here are ready to have their food and drink served up by a guy with a chain hanging from his nose. You understand what I mean?”
Ryan’s cheeks flushed and he immediately stopped fiddling with his nose stud. “Yeah, of course. If it meant I could get a job, I’d take them all out.” He looked out of the window. “You really think you could get me an interview?”
Nathan pulled up in front of a white house with blue shutters. “This the place?” he asked
Ryan glanced up and nodded. “Yeah, this is it. So, do you? Think you’ll be able to get me an interview, I mean.”
Nathan pulled out a card with his name and direct line number on it. “Call me tomorrow after five and I’ll let you know then, okay?”
Ryan took the card and stuck out his hand. “Thank you, Chief Inspector. You don’t how much this means to me. My dad is going to be over the moon.”
Nathan was pleased that Ryan made direct eye contact with him and shook his hand with a firm grasp. There were few things worse than taking someone’s hand, only to feel it limp and lifeless in yours, particularly when they wouldn’t look you in the eye. Over the years, Nathan had shaken more hands than he cared to remember, and he was fairly certain that every limp, weak handshake he’d witnessed had belonged to a person of similar character.
“Well, don’t thank me too soon, I haven’t done anything yet. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, okay.” He grinned at Ryan’s beaming smile and pointed the car back to St. Eves.
Chapter 7
“Well, I’m glad that Ryan isn’t the killer. He’s too cute. But I really hope you find out who is … and soon.” Charlotte was sitting up in bed, playing a word puzzle on her tablet, with Pippin curled up beside her. “I can’t believe that’s what he wanted the £20,000 for – it makes me want to give him a hug!
“Y’know, Ava had him down as a drug lord,” Charlotte giggled and Pippin’s ears pricked up in his sleep. “You can’t entirely blame her, though. He and Bella were acting very suspiciously when they came into the café the other day.”
“I’m going to speak to a couple of people tomorrow.” Nathan took off his shirt and put it in the laundry basket. “Hopefully, someone will have something for him. I hope so - he deserves a break.”
“So what are you going to do now? About the finding the killer, I mean?” Charlotte put her tablet on the bedside table before lifting Pippin
gently off the bed and settling him into his own.
“More questioning. I’ll be starting on the family tomorrow. I already spoke to them all on the morning of the murder, but under the circumstances, I didn’t go in too heavy-handed. Out of respect, we’ve given them a few days before we start questioning them in earnest, but I don’t want to leave it too much longer.”
“Who are you starting with?” asked Charlotte, as she plumped up Nathan’s pillow. “If I were you, I’d start with the brother. It’s always the one you least suspect, isn’t it? If it were me, I’d surprise him with a dawn raid on the cottage, then I’d …”
Laughing, Nathan got under the covers and pulled Charlotte down next to him. She snuggled in, her head resting on his shoulder.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m the police officer in this relationship, not you. One of these days, Charlotte Denver, you’re going to feel the full force of the law if you carry on poking your nose in.”
“Am I? Actually, I’d quite like to feel the full force of the law right now.” Charlotte looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, would you now? Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that then, won’t we?”
As Charlotte squealed with delight as Nathan took her in his arms, neither of them noticed Pippin covering his eyes with his paws.
ººººººº
The next day dawned warm and bright with not a cloud in the sky, and the café terrace was filling up with customers out for breakfast or morning coffee.
Charlotte was cooking the joint of beef for Sunday lunch when Jess called out to her.
“Charlotte, Rachel Potts is here. She’d like a word with you.”
Rachel Potts! What on earth can she want? Charlotte wiped her hands on her apron and went out into the café.
“Good morning, Mrs Potts. My condolences.”
“What?” snapped Rachel.
“My condolences … on the death of your sister-in-law.”
Rachel’s face was expressionless. “Oh, yeah, right … anyway, I need to use the wifi.”
Sweaty and a little breathless, Rachel had evidently been for a run, her spandex t-shirt and shorts showcasing her trim figure. She held up her mobile phone. “We’ve lost the internet signal at the cottage, so I thought I’d try and get on here. I’m having trouble connecting to your wifi, though. D’you you know why that might be?” she asked with irritation as she jogged on the spot.
“Well, it’s only for customers,” replied Charlotte. “If they’re eating or drinking here, I’m happy to give them the password.” She might have waived her rule had Rachel Potts been a little more agreeable, but having recently been stung by the family for the entire payment of Tom’s post-funeral celebration, she didn’t feel inclined to do so.
She could see Rachel wondering whether it was worth arguing the point, but she obviously thought better of it and ordered a lemon tea instead. “And the password … please,” she snapped, as an afterthought.
“My pleasure,” said Charlotte, smiling sweetly.
“Well, you don’t have to look too far to see where Bella Potts gets her manners from, do you? Or should I say, lack of them,” said Jess, once Rachel was seated at a table outside.
“Hmph,” said Charlotte. “I’ll be glad when the whole family go back to wherever it is they came from. I hate to say it, but they really are the most disagreeable bunch of people I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”
“Yes, they’re even worse than I remembered,” agreed Jess, expertly pouring a cup of choca-mocha-cappuccino to form a velvety smooth layer of foam atop the sweet, mahogany beverage. “They were always …ow! What did you do that for?”
Jess looked up to see Rachel Potts standing on the other side of the bar.
“Can I help you with something?” asked Charlotte.
“Um, yes. Look, it must be my mobile phone that has a problem. I can’t connect to the internet from here, either. Is there any chance I could use your tablet? You do keep one here, don’t you? I’ve seen other customers using it. I wouldn’t ask, but I need to get online urgently ... it’s work. And while I’m here, I’ll use the bathroom, too. If you could get the tablet for me, I’ll be right back”.
Charlotte did indeed keep a tablet at the café, but only for her own use, or that of friends or favourite customers. Since Rachel Potts was neither, she was of a mind to refuse her, but it went against the grain for her to be vindictive, and she conceded.
She reached into a cupboard under the bar for the tablet and passed it to Rachel, who had reappeared in front of her. “Please be very careful with it,” she said, and was rewarded for her generosity with the briefest of thin smiles, lacking in either warmth or sincerity.
“Sorry I kicked you,” said Charlotte once Rachel was safely outside again. “I didn’t know what you were going to say next.”
“That’s okay,” said Jess, rubbing her ankle. “You probably did me a favour. You know how my big mouth has a tendency to get me into trouble!”
“No, no, no, no, no! How could you do this to me! Damn you!” Rachel suddenly shouted and jumped up from the table, startling the other customers and Pippin, who immediately started growling at her from his basket.
Charlotte and Jess rushed out onto the terrace. “Is everything okay?”
Rachel glared at them, a mixture of panic and desperation on her sweaty face. “No, it damn well isn’t okay!” she shouted before storming off down the footpath, almost colliding with Leo Reeves.
“My, my. Someone got out the wrong side of the bed this morning,” said Leo as he passed by with the Sunday newspapers under his arm. “She almost knocked me flying! Wasn’t that Tom’s daughter?”
“Daughter-in-law,” said Charlotte. “Looks like she’s had a bit of bad news. Anyway, will we be seeing you for lunch later?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, my dear. I’ll be in around midday with Harry. See you then,” he replied, before continuing with his stroll up the marina, tipping his straw boater to everyone he passed.
“Sorry about the little outburst,” Charlotte apologised to the other customers as she went around the tables for a quick meet and greet, and to retrieve her tablet, which Rachel Potts had left on the table. “Hope it didn’t disturb you.”
“No, not at all,” said a middle-aged man with mousy hair and a sunburned face. “It was quite entertaining, actually. I don’t know who she was messaging, but whoever it was, they certainly knew how to wind her up. She was furious!”
It must be exhausting to be so angry so much of the time, Charlotte thought as she went back into the kitchen. She placed sprigs of thyme over two trays of potatoes before basting them with golden olive oil and closing the oven door.
She was on her way to the bathroom, when Jess called out, “I’ve got some food orders coming in a minute, just so you know.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” She grinned at her friend.
Someone had left a mini backpack on the bathroom sink. There was nothing on it to identify it from the outside, so Charlotte had to look inside for clues to the owner. There was a tube of strawberry lip-gloss, a key, and three letters. The standardised letters were all from finance and loan companies and their content was similar.
Charlotte scanned the pages, her eyes growing wide with surprise at what she saw.
“We regret to inform you that your recent application for a loan has been declined due to failure to meet our credit check.”
All the letters were addressed to Rachel Potts.
“Hey! You still awake in there? Four scrambled eggs on toast – one with bacon and grilled tomatoes – and a bowl of fruit granola, please.”
Charlotte laughed and opened the door. She took the breakfast orders from Jess and got down to work.
Five minutes later, an extremely flustered Rachel Potts rushed into the café.
“Did you find my backpack? I must have left it in the bathroom?”
/> Charlotte handed it to her through the hole in the wall.
“You didn’t look inside, did you?” Rachel asked rudely, as she snatched it from Charlotte’s hand.
“You’re welcome,” said Charlotte, her sarcasm completely lost on Rachel. “And no, I didn’t look inside.” She crossed her fingers as she always did when she told a white lie.
“Good.” Rachel turned and walked out of the café without another word.
Horrible woman, thought Charlotte as she put some bacon on the griddle. Mind you, she’s probably got a lot on her mind if her loan applications are being refused. Obviously got financial troubles.
As she turned the bacon, she made a mental note to remember to tell Nathan about her latest discovery.
ººººººº
At St. Eves police station, Greg Henderson wasn’t responding well to Nathan’s questioning.
When Nathan had called at the cottage that morning, to ask if he would mind answering some questions down at the station, he’d been more than agreeable to comply with his request. Nathan had explained that he wasn’t under arrest, he was simply being asked to cooperate with the investigation - of his own free will - to help the police with their enquiries.
“So, I’ll ask you again, Mr Henderson. Can you tell me why you were opposed to your sister-in-law keeping the lottery ticket?” Nathan sat forward in his chair, chin resting on his interlocked fingers.
Greg shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. How on earth do the police know about that? “Who told you I was opposed to it?” he asked.
“Let’s just say that you were overheard discussing the matter with certain members of your family,” said Nathan. He had no intention of telling Greg that Charlotte was the source of the information.
Greg ran his hands through his unruly mop of cinnamon hair, clutching it in his fists. “Look, I didn’t trust Miranda, but I didn’t kill her.”
Nathan surveyed him closely. “Who said anything about killing her, Mr Henderson? I’m merely trying to establish why you had an objection to her safeguarding the lottery ticket.”