Paper Crafts Club Mystery Box Set Book 1-3

by Emily Selby

  'Let's see what the fax machine has spat out,' Celia crossed to the machine and removed the sheet of paper.

  'A list of missing persons. Middle age men. No idea what's that all about,' Celia commented.

  'Maybe that's related to the body I found?'

  'It must be someone we don't know. I'll give it to inspector Heaton when he arrives. What time is he coming?'

  Katie shrugged. 'I hope it’s soon, because I need to talk to him.'

  Inspector Heaton walked in shortly after 9 am. His coat was wet, and his dark hair glimmered with droplets of water. He must have got caught in the rain. Sunnyvale wasn't treating him well, sadly. All the murders, the frequent commute between his parents' cottage and Sunnyvale. Now, the rain. But maybe with all the work here, he'd rent a flat in town?

  'Good morning,' Jack Heaton greeted them, a grim tone in his voice. He glanced at Katie. His blue eyes swept across her silhouette. A deep line appeared on his forehead.

  'I can only guess what's going on in your mind. I've talked to Chris this morning. I'm sorry this has happened to you again, Katie,' he said carefully.

  'You've got it wrong. Kevin isn’t a murderer.'

  'Katie... you've been under a lot of stress recently. Have you thought of taking a break?'

  'Are you trying to send me away, so I don't meddle with your investigation? Because I am so going to! You've got it wrong, Inspector.'

  She watched him squirm. His face paled, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

  'So, who should be considered as my main suspect?' he said eventually.

  Katie blinked. To be honest, she didn't expect Jack to allow her to talk about it. She thought he would just turn around, mock her and walk out. The big-city smarty-pants inspector.

  'I've made a list,' she said and fumbled with her handbag. He waited in silence until she pulled the list out. This morning she'd added Kevin's name to it and crossed it off angrily. She passed over the paper in tense silence. He took the sheet from her hand and glanced at it.

  'Thanks,' he said calmly. 'I'll think about it.'

  One glance on his face told Katie that he would not think about it at all. He had already made his mind up about Katie's thoughts and this was not positive. Inspector Jack Heaton's willingness to listen to other people just run out. Nothing new there.

  Even with another cup of coffee in her system, Katie was barely capable of doing any intellectual work. She enclosed herself inside her windowless office and shifted paperwork from one pile to another. If anybody caught her, she could always say she was organising her files. The deadline for turning in the results of the study on the youth crime prevention program was looming. Inspector Lumley wanted it on his desk before the end of the week.

  Inspector Lumley. Maybe she should talk to him? He seemed open to new ideas when she spoke to him on Saturday night. Maybe he would listen? After all, he knew Kevin, Michelle, and Katie and all the locals. Yes, Inspector Lumley might be able to help.

  But Inspector Lumley was out all morning, and Katie kept shuffling papers around her desk until it was time for her to leave. When she opened the door to the staff room, Chris Fox sat hunched over his computer, writing a report.

  'Any news Chris?' Chris turned around and smiled.

  'What sort of news? The body you found this morning has not been identified yet. Sadly, he had no ID or even phone on him. We’re going through the missing persons list. '

  'Any idea how and when he was killed?'

  'We need a proper forensic report on it, but from what I can tell, he must have been dead for at least a couple of weeks. Neatly packed in a big garden waste bag. The recent heavy rains flushed the body downstream.'

  'So, it was a murder. Just as I thought.'

  'Well, you can't commit suicide and then pack your body in a bag, can you?'

  Katie cringed. Over the thirteen years she'd worked at the police station and almost the same amount of time being married to a policeman, she'd grown used to the dark sense of humour, but sometimes it was too much.

  'Where do you think he was murdered?'

  'Probably somewhere in the forest upstream.'

  Katie turned on her heel, ready to walk back to her office, but one thought kept troubling her.

  'Chris,' she said, turning back to look at him again. 'I think he's got it wrong again. But he won't listen to me. Maybe he'll listen to you.'

  Chris glanced at her, the puzzlement clear on his freckled face.

  'Who's got what wrong?' he asked.

  'DI Smarty-Pants.'

  'Yeah. He needs to learn to listen to people, this guy. I guess you’ve talked to him?'

  'Of course, I did. I've given him a list of my suspects. He said he'd think about it, but I don't think he appreciates my input.'

  'Well, he listened to you last time, during Mrs Dunbar's investigation.' Chris smiled.

  'Eventually. But remember how much time it took to get him to accept my hunches? All he wanted was evidence and cold logic.'

  'I remember that. Cruel, ey?' he said and glanced at her, a smile dancing in his eyes. 'Did you give him any evidence this time?'

  Katie snorted. 'Evidence? Where from? I've got nothing this time, except for, what do you call it? I’d give Kevin a good character reference, but I don't think it would make a difference.'

  'Sorry, Katie. I don't think it would do either. But I see where you're coming from.'

  'Is there anything I can do to help Kevin? Or help solve this crime?'

  Chris smiled again. 'Katie, as much as I understand you want to help your friends, I don't think it's a good idea to get involved in this stuff. You helped us with the other case, but honestly, leave it, girl. Remember how dangerous it got at some points? You could have been killed. Leave it to Heaton and the rest of us. The professionals.'

  Katie shuddered. Yes, she remembered that chilling moment and she didn't want it to ever happen again. On the other hand, her amateur methods helped solve Mrs Dunbar's murder and the associated crimes.

  'But Jack Heaton's big city methods won't work here. You know what it's like—small towns, people who live differently, connections that aren't revealed unless you know they exist...' She allowed her voice to trail off.

  'I know. Yes, he has a lot to learn, but he is learning. We're here to make sure things get done and the murderer is found. You go home and rest.' Chris' eyes were serious. Two deep vertical lines appeared on his broad forehead. 'And if you find out anything that may be useful in the investigations, you tell us. Don't act on it by yourself, don't explore further. Okay, lass?'

  'Okay,' she said slowly and pushed the door. It was time to go.

  So that was a "no" from Chris. A knot tightened in her stomach. She didn't have any extra information now, no evidence to support her hunches, but she would talk to people. Talking to people sometimes generated interesting information. If there was a secret, with enough questions it would bubble to the surface, just like a dead body dumped into the stream would float after the rain. Katie shivered. This was an uncanny metaphor. Even her sense of humour was becoming darker.

  Maybe an evening filled with her favourite hobby would lighten her mood? A little well-focused paper quilling or card making? She really should start on her card collection for the upcoming church fete. With all the recent events, she'd almost forgotten about the church fete. Even with their vicar going through the period of intensive therapy and someone else standing in for him, the celebration of the hundred years of St George's church was going to happen. And the Paper Crafts Club was doing as much as they could to make it a success.

  10

  The police still treated Katie's flat as the crime scene, so after work, she returned to Michelle's place.

  The house was dark and cold. Michelle must have already gone to her in-laws, as there were various items scattered around the kitchen and the hall. Katie tidied up and put the washing on. She called her daughter. She even prepared herself a tuna pasta salad for lunch-cum-dinner and ate it. But once the hous
e was squeaky clean, the washing draped over an airer in the lounge, and her stomach no longer rumbling, she ran out of tasks to fill her time. And she had to keep her mind and hands busy otherwise, she'd have a meltdown.

  Last week, she promised to bring a fellow club member, Dorothy Ravencroft recovering from a hip replacement to the club meeting. But with still more than an hour to go, Katie decided to spend the extra time designing birthday cards for the church fete.

  She drove to the crafts room at the Community Centre.

  The room was cool. Obviously, the heaters had been turned off. The club members met once a month unless there was a need for a special meeting. They’d called one back in August to flesh out the plan for the church fete, and then another on the day of Mrs Dunbar's death. Katie's skin crawled when she thought back to that meeting.

  She turned on the lights and the heating. The room came to life. She crouched by the shelves. All three brown cardboard boxes that contained Katie's crafts materials clearly had been handled by the forensic team - patches of whitish fingerprint powder still covered their surfaces.

  Why did the killer choose her, Katie Redford to implicate in the crime? Was it just a coincidence? Were they looking for a specific tool handy to kill? Or did they just grab the first thing that looked usable? The little hairs on the nape of her neck lifted. Having pushed the thought aside, Katie lifted the box with the current work-in-progress. She put it on the table and took out the block of colourful cardboard sheets, a bottle of PVA glue and a jar of "Finders Keepers"– various little items she and Julia had collected over time. She pulled out her phone and flicked through the photos of card designs with unusual combinations of recycled materials found around the house, if not the rubbish bin. Katie loved the idea of creating a series of birthday cards for primary school boys using bottle caps, parts of mechanical toys, Lego bricks. It was a good challenge. Katie got down to work.

  By the time she had to go to collect Dorothy, Katie had five cards designed–plenty to work on this evening. She grabbed her jacket and handbag and left the room, locking the door behind her. She'd rather not drive worrying if someone with murderous intent laid their hands on another deadly tool.

  Dorothy easily spotted in her bright yellow raincoat was waiting on the porch when Katie arrived, her crutches beside her.

  Katie parked the car just outside the porch. Following her hip replacement, Dorothy had been staying with her elderly mother. Her own place, an upstairs flat with a steep and narrow staircase, was too difficult to navigate for a person on crutches.

  As Katie was climbing out of her Nissan, a van with a taxi sign on the roof braked in front of her car. The entrance to the house next door opened and slammed behind a tall, slim woman. She wore a long, dark coat that fitted tightly at her waist, flared at the bottom and ended somewhere below her knees. She ran down the ramp, waving her arms, looking like a fashion model falling off the catwalk.

  'At long last! I've been waiting for ages. My mother is absolutely beside herself. You're late,' the woman called out, her voice urgent and high-pitched.

  'And good evening to you, too, Miss,' the driver said loudly as he clambered out of the cab. 'I'm sorry about the delay. There was a double booking. You can complain to our management, if you're not happy, Miss. I'm here to collect Mrs Parker. Is she ready?'

  'Of course, she is. She can't wait to go,' the woman's voice rose by an octave, reaching the shrill level. Katie's skin broke out in goosebumps. A panic raised in her stomach. Something in the woman's voice made her think of a fire alarm. Katie shuddered to shake off the feeling.

  'Get the ramp ready, I'll fetch her. I don't want her to get wet in the rain,' the woman urged.

  'She's lucky, it's stopped raining,' the driver chuckled.

  The young woman shrugged. 'Too late for me. I've already got soaked waiting for you.'

  'You could have waited inside, madam. We send our customers a text message when the taxi is nearby.'

  The driver said and got on with his job. He opened the tailgate. The young woman ran back to the house. After a few seconds, a wheelchair containing a well-wrapped figure appeared in the doorway. The light from the open door fell on the young woman pushing the chair. Katie glanced at her face. A young, pretty face, dark hair. She looked familiar.

  'Do you want a hand with the chair, Miss?' the driver called out.

  'No, I'll be fine,' she replied steering the wheelchair down a short ramp.

  'Good evening, Mrs Parker,' Katie recognised the woman in the wheelchair - one of the newest members of the Paper Crafts Club. Are you coming to our meeting tonight?'

  'Hello, Katie, girl,' Mrs Parker replied, in the typical, weak voice.

  'If she can get there on time,' the young woman in the dark coat remarked. Her voice was calmer, but it still had an anxious edge.

  'I'm sure she'll get there on time.' Katie smiled. 'And even if it's a little later, it's never a problem. We'll welcome her whenever she's ready,' Katie reassured and glanced at the young woman's face again. Yes, she'd seen her as well, minus the furrowed brows and the paint-peeling voice.

  'I'm here to collect Dorothy, so we'll be probably right behind you. Lovely to see you there again, Mrs Parker,' Katie added. Mrs Parker had only attended a few meetings so far, and she clearly had difficulty working on her projects, but she seemed to enjoy the crafts and the atmosphere.

  'Hi, Katie!' Dorothy waved.

  'Hi, Dorothy. Ready to go?'

  'Yes. Can you take my basket, please? I'm still on the crutches. I'm seeing the doctor next week. Hopefully, he'll let me dump them completely. It's been over five weeks since the operation now.'

  Katie picked up Dorothy's craft basket and followed her friend into her car.

  'I'm glad you've finally got the right car, Sofia.' Dorothy said when they were passing by the woman in the coat.

  'So am I,' replied the woman, now calmer. 'I've spent fifteen minutes on the blooming phone, trying to get hold of someone who could send a car with wheelchair access.' She waved her hand with her mobile right into Dorothy's face. Katie couldn't help but notice the unusual phone case - decorated with colourful rhinestones, which sparkled in the light spilling through the open door. Katie opened her mouth to make a comment about this piece of jewellery, but she didn't really want to interact with the girl right now. Maybe some other day or time, when she was calm and not anxious about getting somewhere on time.

  'We'll see you soon, then,' Dorothy said and stopped by Katie's car.

  Katie helped her friend into the Micra while trying to ignore the feeling that the young woman's eyes were drilling two holes in her back.

  'Oof,' Katie said when she finally got into the car and started the engine. 'That was a chilling experience.'

  'The weather, or the encounter with the Parkers?' Dorothy asked.

  Katie glanced at her friend. Her round, brown eyes had the usual sparkle of humour in them, but her face look serious.

  'The latter. How difficult is it living next door to them?' Katie asked, driving off. She could see the driver in her mirror, closing the van's tailgate.

  'Interesting,' Dorothy replied. 'Do you know, Chiara Parker used to live next door to us? The whole family. Back then, she was called Chiara Marino.'

  'In that house where they are living now?'

  'The same. They returned to town earlier this year. Apparently to reconnect with their roots, or some such sentimental stuff. But I think they might have simply needed a roof over their heads.'

  'What? Nobody else lives there?'

  'The house officially belongs to the Marino family. Chiara's uncle, from what I remember. He died last year and his children, Chiara's cousins, inherited the house. But they didn't want to live here. They've tried renting the house out, but it didn't work. I'm not sure why they don't sell it. Maybe no one wants to buy the place. Anyway, the house had been empty before Chiara and her daughter moved in some time in spring.'

  'Hang on, didn't you say Chiara used to live in the
same house when she was younger?' Katie was confused.

  'Yes. You see, Chiara was abandoned by her mother when she was a kid. I remember her in primary school; kids used to tease her. It was awful. It didn't help that she was a sickly child. There were rumours that her mother had dumped her on her family and ran away with her other child to live with some guy because Chiara was sick all the time.'

  'Where was the father at the time?'

  'Oh, he committed a suicide a couple of years earlier. He had been caught doing something illegal and didn't want to go to prison. That was another reason the kids used to tease her. Poor Chiara,' Dorothy sighed. 'Having said that, she was such a whiner.' Dorothy shuddered. 'I tried my best to help her make friends with other kids. I defended her against the bullies several times, but it didn't help much. Poor Chiara,' Dorothy said and looked away, nodding her head lightly.

  'What an awful childhood,' Katie agreed. 'This woman has been through a lot. Kudos to her for trying to find little moments to enjoy. She seemed genuinely interested in paper crafts every time she came to the meeting. That story makes me want to make her really welcome tonight.'

  Dorothy gave her a look, Katie found hard to interpret. 'I hope it works for everyone involved,' she said, looking away.

  Katie opened her mouth to ask what she meant by that, but Dorothy cut in. 'Oh, look, we've arrived. It's good to be back!'

  'And it's good to have you back,' Katie said and pulled in to an empty space near the main door. She made a mental note to catch up with Dorothy later that evening and ask her to explain the puzzling comment. 'There are some people in the room, I can see them through the window. Let's go and join the fun.'

  By the time Katie helped Dorothy climb out of the car, got the box and her own handbag, the taxi van appeared from behind the corner.

  Katie heart sank as she recognised Chiara's daughter in the passenger's seat. Her goosebumps hadn't all disappeared yet, and she didn't fancy another set so soon.

  Dorothy glanced over her shoulder at Katie. 'It'll be okay. I'll keep her entertained. We'll be fine. Hopefully, Sofia will be in a better mood, too. She wants the best for her mum and gets anxious when things don't go according to her plans.'