by Mona Marple
“My dad had an affair,” Cass said. “My mum knew, she told him that he had to choose, and he chose us. But he didn’t tell us he had another daughter.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Olivia turned up two nights before Reginald’s murder. I didn’t want a new face in the village then, she would have been the first suspect. And she had nothing to do with it, she just arrived at the wrong time.”
“I heard you say you’d lied.”
“I did.”
“What about?” Sandy asked, an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach.
“Reginald was taking over my shop, Sandy. I lied to you about that.”
“Why?”
“He came to me and offered me a great deal, a big payout if I agreed. I was only convinced because of Olivia. Look at the state of her, Sand. I can’t send her home. She came empty handed and I don’t have money to get her new clothes and everything she’ll need. It was like Reginald was psychic, he turned up the night Olivia had, with his offer. I said yes straight away. But then he was killed, and I had to hide Olivia. I couldn’t tell you he was taking the shop, I knew you’d want to know why.”
“But there’s no official paper trail showing that he was taking over here.”
“I can’t explain that, the process was definitely set in motion. I lied before, I’m not lying now.”
“I believe you,” Sandy said, gripping her hand.
“Olivia, come out here,” Cass said. The girl did. She looked so vulnerable, it broke Sandy’s heart. “Meet my oldest friend in the world, Sandy.”
“I’m not that old.” Sandy teased, but Olivia didn’t react.
“Please don’t go to the police,” Cass whispered.
“Why would I?”
“She’s only 15. She ran away from home to find me.”
“Oh, Cass. We need to tell the police. Her mum will be worried sick.”
“My mum’s never cared!” Olivia said, crossing her arms.
“She was in foster care, Sand. Removed from her mum when she was six.”
The thought of a child being removed from the only parent she knew at such a young age made Sandy’s stomach wince with pain. What must this poor girl have been through in her short life?
“What’s your plan?” Sandy asked Cass.
“She stays here. I’m the only family she’s got, she has to stay here.”
“Then you need to do things properly. You can’t hide her away, Cass, if you do that they won’t let her stay when they do find her here.”
“And how are they going to find me? Are you going to tell them?” Olivia asked, but her tone then was not aggressive. It was her real voice, under the act. The voice of a scared child.
“No,” Sandy said. “That’s not my place. I will do something though, give me ten minutes.”
She stood up and left the salon, running across the village green. She burst into Books and Bakes, greeting the familiar customers and giving Bernice a hug.
“What was that for?” Bernice asked with a laugh.
“I just remembered how lucky I am to have you,” Sandy said. She went straight into the kitchen and grabbed a cake box, then filled it with a slice of each cake she had. Coffee and walnut, hazelnut torte, Victoria sponge, a slice of flapjack, two cherry Bakewells, and an enormous elephant’s foot cream cake. Satisfied, she placed the lid on the box and dashed out of the shop again, leaving a confused Bernice watching after her.
When she got back to the salon, Cass and Olivia were sitting in the back together, holding hands. They both looked up when Sandy raced in.
“I bring cake.” She announced, handing the cake box to Olivia.
“Wow.” The girl said, then looked up at Sandy. “Are these all for me?”
“Absolutely,” Sandy said. To her delight, Olivia picked up the elephant’s foot straight away and took a huge bite, cream spilling all down her chin.
Cass pulled Sandy to one side, leaving her sister to work her way through the cream cake.
“I’m so sorry I lied to you.” She said.
“It’s done now, Cass. Don’t worry.”
“Will you keep our secret? I know I can’t ask you that, but I have no choice. I’m all she’s got.”
“I won’t tell the police,” Sandy said. “I’m going to catch the real killer, and then you can tell the police yourself.”
16
“It smells amazing in here!” Coral said, appearing in the kitchen of Books and Bakes as Sandy and Bernice made the finishing touches to the food they had prepared ahead of time.
The Manor kitchen would be the venue for most of the baking and food preparation, but there was so much to do, Sandy had suggested they do at least some the day before in their own kitchen. As cramped as the space was compared to the Manor kitchen, it was a space they were familiar with, and that made them work faster.
In what felt like no time at all, they had measured and chopped ingredients, arranged all of the serving platters and dishes they would need, and baked four large cakes.
Coral was right, the smell was incredible.
“You’ve not come to lend a hand, have you?” Bernice asked, pulling the twice-baked strawberry shortcake cheesecake out of the oven.
“Panic not!” Coral said with a laugh. “I just thought I’d offer to walk you home, Sand, if you’re nearly done.”
“I won’t be much longer,” Sandy said. “You could make a start on the washing up if you want to help?”
Coral rolled her eyes. “Go on then. I must be mad - I could have sat and waited in The Tweed.”
She busied herself at the sink, though, and Sandy was grateful. The job of clearing up after a busy day was always the worst job to do at night but the one you were most grateful you had done when you returned the next morning.
“This boozy trifle smells strong enough to get you drunk,” Bernice said, opening the fridge door. The seasonal, and very boozy, trifle had been Sandy’s idea. Alcohol made everyone lose their inhibitions, and she thought that might come in handy at the Ball.
“Let’s have a sniff,” Coral said, moving away from the sink and standing next to Bernice. “Wowzers! What’s in it?”
“It’s a mulled wine jelly with an advocaat custard,” Sandy said, wondering if she had overdone the alcohol in it. She hadn’t followed a recipe, but had just added a few slugs and used her own taste buds to decide when to stop.
“I’ll be giving that a try tomorrow,” Coral said. “Sounds fab!”
“I hope they like everything,” Sandy said. She always felt nervous as an important catering day grew nearer, and she particularly wanted Penelope and Benedict Harlow to be happy with her work.
“They’ll love it all, you watch,” Bernice reassured, giving Sandy’s arm a squeeze. “Why don’t you two get off home? I can finish up here.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t…” Sandy began.
“We totally could. Come on, Sandy, you need to learn to let people do things for you. Let’s leave Bernice to it.”
“Are you sure?” Sandy asked, wondering how she got so lucky to have such a generous friend and employee.
“Absolutely. All I’ll do when I get home is watch trash TV, that can wait a while longer.”
Sandy beamed at her. “Thank you.”
**
“So, what’s this visit for?” Sandy asked as they walked together to her cottage. Coral linked her arm in Sandy’s and snuggled in close. It was a bitter cold evening and the famous Waterfell Tweed wind was blowing.
“I just had a rubbish day at work, and nobody makes me feel better like my little sister does.”
“You tell me who upset you and I’ll sort them.” Sandy joked.
“Nobody upset me,” Coral said. “But things have changed there. Do you remember me telling you my boss was ill?”
“I think so,” Sandy said. “Was it cancer?”
“I don’t know, we were never told the details. But he just became less visible. He was working from home
a lot, and people talked as people do, but all we were really told was that he was poorly.”
“Yep, I think I do remember,” Sandy said. The Waterfell Way had been run for decades by the son of the gentleman who had started the paper. It was a small, close-knit team. Sandy was asked to bake cakes whenever it was a member of staff’s birthday, and when she made the deliveries it always struck her how cosy and homely the newspaper offices seemed.
“Well, there was a big meeting today and I thought the news would be that he had passed the running of the paper to his son, but it turns out we’ve been bought by a national news agency.”
“Woah… what does that mean?” Sandy asked. Selling out to a national company wasn’t the Waterfell Tweed way. Almost every business in the village was independent. This was big news.
“Nobody knows. There will be more meetings, but the first change they’ve introduced is time cards.”
“Time cards? Are you working in a factory now?”
“It feels that way. Stamping in and out, as if I’ve been pretending to be at work all these years and can’t be trusted. It’s insulting.”
“Oh, sis. What a mess. Well, I’m sure it will settle down. The national company will want one of you guys to run things, surely as soon as they decide who that is, things will get back to normal?”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Coral said, giving Sandy’s arm a squeeze. “Has the shop been getting any busier?”
The winter months were the quietest time for Sandy, as even the most determined walkers didn’t spend their free time rambling in the countryside any more, and the business from the regular locals wasn’t enough.
“No, but I’ve got a plan,” Sandy admitted.
“You’ve always got a plan.” Coral teased, which was true. “That’s what losing our mum did for us.”
“Do you think?” Sandy asked. She had never connected losing her mum young in life with her tendency to want to take control and sort things out. Like solving the murder - it wasn’t her job, but she’d decided she would do it.
“Absolutely. I’ve interviewed lots of strong women and usually, they lost someone important when they were young.”
“I’d hardly call myself a strong woman,” Sandy said.
Coral shrugged. “Maybe you’re just bossy, then.”
Sandy laughed. They reached her cottage and she unlocked the door and turned the light on in the passage. They kicked their shoes off and Sandy made them both a big mug of hot chocolate, even adding marshmallows and whipped cream.
“Wow!” Coral said as Sandy walked into the living room with the two cups. “Now that’s a hot chocolate!”
The sisters sat in silence for a while, each enjoying the warmth of their drink after the cold wind outside.
Sandy had waited for the right time but knew she could wait no longer.
“Coral.” She said, and her tone of voice made her sister look at her in concern. “I know who the killer is.”
17
Sandy was up early the next morning.
She dressed in her favourite pair of jeans, her baggy ‘I Love Waterfell Tweed’ t-shirt and a pair of ballet pumps. Comfort was the main requirement on a big catering day.
She needed the day to go well, and once it was over, she was going to see DC Sullivan to tell him who the real killer was. The thought made the insides of her stomach flip with nerves.
She drove to the Manor to see Bernice’s car already parked on the gravel. As Sandy locked her car door, Bernice appeared from the house to fetch more things from the car.
“Morning.” She called, opening the car boot.
“Morning, sorry I’m late,” Sandy said.
“You’re not late, I was early. The wind woke me up. May as well be here getting a head start if I’m up anyway.”
“I didn’t hear any wind, must have slept through it,” Sandy said. She was woken by the wind often but she also thought she had got used to the noises of where she lived, as she imagined people in the city must get used to police sirens without panicking each time.
“Lucky for some,” Bernice said with a smile. She looked tired, Sandy noticed for the first time.
“Here, let me get some of those,” Sandy said, as Bernice attempted to carry a huge tower of empty platters.
“I’m ok, you get some of the others.” Bernice insisted.
Sandy grabbed another pile and then they walked together back to the manor.
The kitchen was cold and Sandy wished she’d brought a cardigan with her, although she knew she would warm up as soon as she got to work.
“Are the Harlows around?” Sandy asked.
“I haven’t seen them. The housekeeper let me in.”
One more trip to the car was all they needed to bring everything into the kitchen. They washed their hands and turned on the radio that stood on one of the kitchen counters.
They had six hours to prepare everything before people arrived. It was a stretch, but they would do it. Both Sandy and Bernice worked well under pressure.
**
By the time it was 1.30pm, the kitchen was overflowing with the dishes they had created. Sandy stood back to admire it all.
“We’re a good team!” She exclaimed.
Bernice followed her eye and burst into a grin. “It’s so satisfying to see a job like this done, isn’t it.”
“It certainly is!” A booming voice came from behind them. Sandy turned to see Benedict Harlow standing in the kitchen doorway, admiring the food. Penelope stood by his side.
“You two have outdone yourselves,” Penelope said.
“Thank you.” Sandy and Bernice said in unison.
“Now, go on upstairs both of you. I had to guess your sizes but I’m hopeful I have them right. I got a dress for each of you to wear, as a little thank you.” Penelope said.
“What?” Sandy said, in shock. “We’re going to hand the food out, we’ll be…”
“Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that and not enjoy the Ball for yourselves. I’ve hired some college students from the next town to do all of that and the washing up, so you ladies can enjoy yourselves.”
“Wow! That’s amazing!” Bernice said.
“Follow me.” Penelope said, and Sandy and Bernice were whisked out of the kitchen and up the grand staircase.
“The manor is so beautiful,” Bernice said, taking in all of the details as they walked down a wood-panelled passageway.
“Why, thank you,” Penelope said as if she had never heard the compliment before. They stopped walking when they reached a particular door. “This is your room, Sandy. Bernice, you’re the next one there. Now leave your belongings in here nobody will be inside here, and then you can get changed again later.”
“Thank you, Penelope. This is a really kind thing to do.” Sandy said, opening the door to reveal a large guest bedroom with a four-poster bed and a view of the gardens. A huge marquee stood proud on the grounds, ready to hold the Ball.
Lying on the bed was a floor-length blue velvet dress. It was beautiful.
Sandy approached it and ran her hand down the material. She had never worn a dress like it in her life.
She sat on the bed and looked out of the window. People had already arrived and were milling around on the lawn, accepting glasses of champagne from the college waiters. Sandy could see her sister and Cass, standing together and talking. Cass looked up suddenly, right at Sandy as if she had felt her eyes on her. She smiled and waved, and Sandy did the same, then moved away from the window.
As she did so, she sensed a movement in the room and felt her heart race. “Bernice?”
Silence.
Sandy let out a small laugh, then sat herself down on the stool in front of the vanity table. She was just about to pull her hair out of its ponytail when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.” She called.
To her surprise, Charlotte Harlow appeared in the doorway. “Mother asked me to bring you a drink.”
She walked across t
o Sandy and placed a glass of champagne on the vanity table.
“Thanks, Charlotte,” Sandy said. “Oh, can you tell me where the nearest toilet is in here?”
Charlotte scowled at her. “It’s next door, to the left.”
“I thought that was the room Bernice is getting ready in?” Sandy said, more to herself than Charlotte.
“It’s this room, then the bathroom, then the other bedroom. Make sure you don’t take too long, the party is about to start.” Charlotte said, with a smile that dripped insincerity, then she left the room.
Sandy waited for Charlotte to close the door behind her, then she picked up the dress and the champagne glass, and went into the bathroom.
**
She emerged minutes later, feeling less self-conscious than she thought she would in such a dress. Penelope had guessed her size correctly, and even picked a style that Sandy appreciated. A ruched panel across the stomach area hid her wobbly belly, and she was very pleased that the dress had sleeves as she hated her bare arms.
She stood at the top of the staircase, getting her composure.
“Shall we?” Bernice asked.
Sandy turned to see her friend. She was wearing a floor-length red dress that hugged her slender figure in all the right places and hid that her bosom was fairly modest. Penelope should be a professional dresser!
“Oh my, you look incredible.”
“You look beautiful!”
The women gushed over each other. They were used to seeing each other in aprons and comfortable clothes.
They descended the staircase hand in hand, giggling as they did. The inside of the manor was bustling with activity as the waiters moved trays of food and drinks outside and trays of empty glasses back inside.
Outside, flooring had been laid on the grass so guests didn’t have to get wet or muddy feet. Sandy and Bernice followed the path they made to the marquee, where hundreds of people were standing chatting, sitting eating, or dancing to the DJ who was set up at the far end.
There was a heavy police presence and Sandy caught the gaze of DC Sullivan, who stood near the marquee entrance in full uniform. He held her gaze without a smile.