One to Six, Buckle to Sticks (Grasshopper Lawns Book 11)

by EJ Lamprey

  ‘Why I set up several dates? You women are so unreliable, and I do like to keep to my little schedule. I was really very annoyed when I had to miss it one month. Now I book three dates if I can. My eight o’clock will be getting restless soon. She’ll have to wait until next month for her date with Charles – or would that be too risky?’

  He looked pensive, and she shook her head slightly.

  ‘No. Why you do it at all? What have we ever done to David Parker?’

  He shrugged. ‘It was my wife’s idea, initially, to use the websites to meet wealthy clients, women on their own, with more money than sense. At one point I was juggling four, and the first one, Cynthia, was getting really demanding. Monica said there was nothing for it but to choke her off. Turns out she didn’t mean literally, but God, what a rush! Totally spontaneous, but Monica came over to help me sort it out, set up an alibi, there were no problems.’

  He gave a little huff of amusement.

  ‘She completely agreed about the next one. The woman was just after me for sex, no intention of investing, but clingy! She followed me to a restaurant, you never heard such a scene. We chose the new moon again. Do you also find your energies are low then? It’s a great time to top up. Getting my energy back from needy women, who can’t understand that I don’t want anything from them but their money – God, and being expected to carry on having sex with them!’ He gave an exaggerated little shudder, then hastily reassured her. ‘I wouldn’t have minded with you, pet. Almost a pity we’re going to be pushed for time, eh?’

  ‘I’ve never been needy with you.’ Edge ignored the grisly compliment but instinctively wanted to keep him talking. ‘Will Monica help you to kill me?’

  ‘Monica was a bit of a disappointment, actually. She started getting a bit beady-eyed when I had to kill one of my investors. She thought I was getting addicted.’ He gave a little deprecating laugh at the idea, and glanced across again. ‘You’re a good listener, Suzi. I’ve not really been able to talk to anyone since she died.’

  ‘Glad to help.’ She couldn’t prevent the sarcasm creeping into her voice, and he patted her knee sympathetically.

  ‘Such a cliché, my wife didn’t understand me—I’m as happy being a widower. My ladies take care of all my needs.’ He slowed for the junction at the top of the road, then turned right toward Onderness rather than left for the Lawns. Her heart sank. It had never been much of a hope, but now that too was gone as he sped towards the town.

  The police unit crackled again, mobilizing units to stop and search a black Audi, possibly using fake number plates, and to check the bigger, anonymous hotels for any women pre-booked for the night who hadn’t yet checked in.

  ‘You live in Onderness?’ She tried to get him talking again, but he shook his head, listening intently, then relaxing as the crackle turned to a robbery in progress. With a little bump of the heart, she realized where he might be going. She had once answered Susan’s original phone at the house and there was the chance, the very real chance, Kirsty or Sergeant Dinwoodie would remember. If only they remembered in time….

  He slowed the powerful car still further to turn into the close and drew up outside Kirsty’s new house, and her last hope died. No police car waiting, only one or two resident cars, parked outside houses with curtains already drawn against the evening.

  ‘Surprise! I said I’d bring you home, sweetheart. Are you surprised?’ He unclipped his seatbelt and twisted sideways to see her reaction. ‘It’s easy to find the address a mobile phone is registered to, if you have the right contacts. Gift from one of my grateful employers. After all, I have to check my wealthy widow investors really are wealthy, not living in a bedsit in the slums.’

  She simply stared out the window and he shrugged slightly pettishly.

  ‘You’ll have to walk. I’m not getting vomit over my clothes.’ He sprang lithely out of the car and came round to solicitously open her door, bending down to shoot that dreadful white grin at her. ‘Time to go, darling.’

  ‘I don’t – we can’t get in. I don’t have keys.’ She felt stupid and weak with fear as he hauled her upright, and he laughed in her face.

  ‘I took your keys out of your handbag at the bar, my lovely, while you were looking round for your precious Ben. Now come on. Oh, and hold onto this, will you, until I can find a glass of water?’ He closed her nerveless fingers over a rosebud boutonniere he’d produced from a plastic tube from his pocket. ‘We’ll need that. Once a year, on the anniversary of Cynthia’s death, I permit myself a strangling and leave a carnation in her memory, but roses are so much classier, don’t you think? Come along now.’

  He wheeled her round, closed the car door tenderly, and turned to pilot her up the path. They were brought up short as one of the shadows stepped into the light of the street lamps.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Donald said icily and Nick actually whinnied with shock, then thrust Edge aside and lunged forward.

  Once before, Donald had tried to avert disaster and been a fraction too slow. This time, he made no mistake.

  ~~~

  ‘Brian tipped me off originally,’ Donald said patiently. He’d found a chamois leather in his glove compartment, soaked it in the birdbath and wrung it out, and was dabbing at her temples, brushing strands of damp hair gently aside. It smelled horrible.

  ‘I did warn you, Edge. That there was something dodgy going on in the singles scene, I mean. We decided he or I should be lurking in the background on every date, not just William and Vivian. After Brian told me you were dating, I looked up your Suzi profile and realized it wasna you in the photo. That was when I suspected you were helping the police. Then your niece phoned tonight sounding squeaky with fright, and I knew something was up. I left the rehearsal to come straight here. While I was on the way Brian phoned to say Nick had got past him, so I was ready and waiting.’

  ‘But how?’ Edge, who had been sick again and was feeling extremely stupid and sorry for herself, still couldn’t grasp this one all-important fact, the one that had saved her life. ‘How did you know to come here? I’m so glad you did, but how did you?’ Tears of reaction trickled down her face and he offered her the chamois to mop them up.

  ‘Dinnae greet, hen, your makeup will run and then I can’t be seen in public with you.’ He stopped the teasing and answered seriously. ‘That photo in the house, remember? Kirsty’s colleague, who’d been a poliswoman, and been murdered, and looked enough like you to be your sister. It wasna rocket science to assume, if you were helping the police, you and Kirsty were pretending to be her and that meant basing yourselves at this address. If Kirsty was panicking, there was something wrong and this was the only place I knew to come.’

  She shook her head weakly. He’d been wrong, but it didn’t matter, and she was alive. She leaned her head back against his headrest and closed her eyes. They were sitting in his car in the close, waiting for Kirsty to arrive.

  Nick, a bloodied nose and a perfectly beautiful bruise on his forehead marring his good looks, his face livid with rage and frustration, had already been removed by police. Donald had still been tying him to the lamppost, with very nearly every elastic tether he possessed, when the close had sprung into sharp flickering relief with the arrival of the cavalry, the two men swiftly surrounded by grim-faced officers. Edge, nearly catatonic with reaction, had convinced them Donald was on the side of the angels. A policewoman had led her away to Donald’s car to sit down, reassuring her he wasn’t being held, and would join her shortly.

  ‘He’s my friend,’ Edge repeated helplessly and the policewoman smiled at her.

  ‘A very good friend,’ she agreed. ‘I never thought to hear such shouting from a fellow officer, when Kirsty realized Nick must somehow have got one of our terminals and started calling us individually to get over here. And it turns out your friend had him all wrapped up like a Christmas parcel. Now, are you quite sure you don’t want an ambulance? You don’t want to be taken to the hospital?’ Edge had shaken her head wearily and
said in a small voice she would wait for Kirsty, and the kind policewoman had left. It was very quiet and dark after they went.

  ‘You’re such a good friend, Donald. I can’t believe you and Brian were giving up your time to protect me. Cheryl must be furious.’

  ‘Cheryl’s a climbing buddy. Brian’s fairly keen on you, you know, has been for months. He’s cadged a ride with William, but the bridge was completely gridlocked by that accident you say Nick caused. They’re looping round to take the Kincardine Bridge instead, like Iain and Kirsty. He’ll be here pretty soon, though.’

  She opened her eyes to look at him, puzzled.

  ‘So if he likes me, why did he send flowers to Sylvia? Is he romancing every woman at the Lawns?’

  Donald’s face was shadowed, but she saw the gleam of teeth as he smiled. ‘Atta girl, you must be feeling better! That was a mistake. He used a company called Secret Admirer, but they screwed up somehow, and Sylvia got the roses.’

  ‘Only half of them. Oh Donald, what a mix-up!’

  Once again the shadows of the quiet little close were sliced by blazing headlamps and flickering blue lights as the Onderness police car pulled in and Kirsty, white-faced, burst out of the passenger side to run over towards them.

  It was over.

  Aftermath

  More to placate her friends than from any real expectations, Edge has pulled together a script synopsis based on her dating experiences and some of the stories she’d been given, and has been invited to submit a detailed outline for a possible TV series. The working title is Pick Up Sticks.

  La Traviata sold out every performance for its planned three-night run, with standing room only on the third night, and excellent reviews. Both Vivian and Donald plan to be involved again next year. The Chronicle declared she had the voice to become the next Susan Boyle, making itself briefly the favourite daily paper at the Lawns, at least for some of the residents.

  Sylvia didn’t attend any of the performances, as she was away on the show dog circuit. With her return to the circuit, she’s also been asked to handle two dogs and isn’t at the Lawns very often. Brian is hoping she’ll forget about the roses eventually.

  He enthusiastically joined Cheryl’s support crew for the Caledonian Challenge, and invited Edge along to see how much fun it was, and how very beautiful the route. He and Cheryl are now in training for the Three Peaks.

  To Miss P’s delight, the man who has taken over Godfrey Crossley’s apartment is an old acquaintance from her Wiccan days. They are planning a Solstice celebration.

  ~~~

  Fifteen Sixteen Maids In The Kitchen will be released this summer: if you want to get it at the launch price, add yourself to the mailing list on my website, all details below. It’s possibly my favourite so far in the series - it is certainly the most conventional, a whodunit in a manor house with a house-party, complete (of course!) with a body in the library ...

  FUTURE BOOKS AND OTHER STUFF

  I do hope you had your deepest suspicions confirmed as to the identity of the murderer. Whodunits, by definition, should present all the clues (and red herrings) fairly, and their authors hope readers will solve the mystery a hair’s breadth ahead of the characters. Or a beat behind. The main thing is that you shouldn’t be impatiently waiting for the characters to catch up or, worse, completely confused by the solution, so the nicest review you could put on a whodunit book was whether you hunted with the pack and were satisfied by the hunt.

  If you enjoyed this Grasshopper Lawns book, please review it on Amazon, it is the best way a book can hope to grow a following and a review can be as short as twenty words. When you say what you liked about a book (and even what you didn’t) you are telling hundreds, even thousands, of other readers whether or not they should read it, and a positive review makes more of a difference to a writer than you might believe possible. Amazon will have a link at the end of this book, and will probably send you an email requesting feedback, or you can click in via the links detailed below.

  They are so valuable, in the crowded book world, that I am running a special offer; any of the series can be claimed for free as thanks for a fair review, even a critical one.

  One way to claim a book in return for your review is via my website: there’s a mailing list at the top of the sidebar, if you sign up you get an immediate free story from the series (currently a lead-in story for Eleven Twelve Dig And Delve), and I’ll keep you up to date with any special offers, freebies and promotions as they come up (you can unsubscribe at any time). Every new book, for instance, comes out at a special pre-launch price, which is only advertised on the mailing list and to followers of the series. The start of Three Four was revamped completely six months after its release, and I sent out a replacement to everyone on the list.

  The Quite Contrary website is definitely casual, about life, the universe, and the occasionally alarming learning curves involved in being a writer. (If you are reading this electronically, and use the link, it takes you to the Detective Club oath - click on Home to be taken to the most current blog.) Going on the mailing list puts us in email contact, or you can email me direct on elegsabifff@gmail.com - attach the link to your review, and tell me which book you want (details of all the books coming up) and I will email you the book by return. You then forward the email direct to your Kindle address (which you will find under your Settings) and Bob’s your uncle. (EPUB version also available, just specify.)

  I’m also on Facebook, with a page for every name I write under, and on Twitter, as on the blog, I’m Elegsabiff.

  All the books are available on Kindle and are slowly going into paperback on Amazon. Searching the name EJ Lamprey will always take you to the latest list. A second omnibus is looming.

  In Seven Eight Play It Straight Edge’s actress stepdaughter is performing in a successful Fringe show during the Edinburgh Festival, which attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors and is always a busy family time at Grasshopper Lawns. Long-standing hostilities are set aside when a violent and bloody killing strikes all too close to home, but the temporary truce doesn’t last after Fiona accuses Edge of the murder.

  In Nine Ten Begin Again there are, unsurprisingly, murky goings-on at the Grasshopper Lawns retirement village, but for once they’re not getting the attention they deserve. Between Edge, to her own astonishment, falling head over heels in love, and Vivian terrifying her friends by nearly dying of pneumonia, they’ve definitely taken their eyes off the ball. Can they settle down and get on with the job in hand in time? Well of course they can, they’re old hands at this by now. But it’s a close-run thing.

  Eleven Twelve Dig And Delve (the Halloween edition) is a cross-genre mystery which has had both delighted and horrified reviews. There’s a newcomer at the Grasshopper Lawns retirement village, and she’s an absolute battle-axe. One requirement of residency is to have an interesting past and Beulah Quinn’s past has been interesting to the point of scandalous. Now nearly eighty, she was notorious for her lovers and her political machinations and has been described variously as the most beautiful woman of her day, a widow-maker, and a full-blown witch. Now, though, someone is trying to kill her; and family is family. To Edge’s horror, her aunt is moving in.

  Thirteen Fourteen Maids A-Courting It’s off to the Canaries for the amateur sleuths this time, because Drew, who took Edge’s lovely niece Kirsty there to propose to her, has vanished instead. However, matters become even more complicated when they come to the rescue. In fact, downright sinister. Was Drew the real target, or just the bait?

  Joanna and Clarissa

  In the unlikely event you, as a whodunit reader, also enjoy SF (maybe not that unlikely—I enjoy both, after all) I also write as Joanna Lamprey in that genre. The books are a separate name because the styles couldn’t be less similar. Although Sydni, in Place, would probably get on very well with the Grasshopper Lawns bunch. Abby and Kirsty would certainly like each other. Lucy, from Time, on the other hand . . .

  Time After Time is a colle
ction of microstories, shorts, and a novella about travelling to Neanderthal times. Lucy is the only major character I dislike, but she demanded creation and no-one says no to Lucy.

  No Place Like Place, Book One is the first book in a planned series of three, set on a colonised planet with, however, a decidedly retro lifestyle. There’s steam. And, of course, eccentric characters.

  And for something completely different: as any reader of my blog will know, writing Five Six Pick Up Sticks got me researching singles websites for mature singles, and Nine Ten Begin Again got me really involved. I wrote a book loosely based on the stories I heard, the shenanigans generally, around a mature singles website, and my own experiences. The book is steamy enough, especially around the middle, to fog up the specs of some readers, and I wrote it under the name Clarissa Rodgers-Briskleigh to make clear it is a romp - funny, sad, sexy and an off-beat romance, all in one. It’s called A Second Rainbow.

  Glossary

  (Scottish unless specified otherwise)

  Bampot – lunatic

  Bawbag – scrotum (and pungent slang)

  Bidey-in – a live-in romantic partner

  Birl – to twist or twirl around

  Blether – to have a talk, chatter, gossip.

  Ceilidh – (pronounced kay-lee) – a social gathering, usually including country dancing

  Chap – knock (as in knock on the door)

  CHS – Criminal History System (previously SCRO – Scottish Criminal Record Office)

  Dinna fash – don’t worry