by Emily Selby
Jack listened in silence, nodding. 'Just as I thought. Very clever. Difficult to track down. A smart criminal. Or an experienced one.'
A chill flittered down Katie's spine.
15
Katie rang Miriam Fischer, as soon as she left the station. She told her about the incident with the door to the crafts room and Sofia.
'Has anything gone missing?' Miriam asked, interrupting Katie's account.
'Nothing obvious,' Katie replied. 'I haven't gone through all the stuff, but the polishing kit was all there. She used it by the way. Are you sure you locked the door?'
A loud sigh Katie interpreted as mild annoyance made it through on the other side of the line. 'I think so. I normally do. But it was such a stressful evening, and I've got so much on my mind anyway, I can't be absolutely certain. That girl...' Miriam sighed again. 'I tell you, that Parker girl gives me the creeps. She's paid the fees, said all the right things, but I'm not entirely comfortable with her being around. Call me old fashioned, but to my eye, she's too smooth.'
Katie's heart accelerated.
'Do you know them?'
'No, not quite my social circles, dear,' Miriam said.
Katie chuckled, but quickly covered it with a cough. Miriam wasn't a person who used sarcasm, and a comment like this from her probably meant exactly the way it sounded.
'I've heard about them from someone. Probably Dorothy. She knows the older woman.'
'Yes. They used to live next door to Dorothy's parents.'
'No. You're wrong. They used to live in that old house behind Phyllis. The one that's such an eyesore.'
Katie's jaw dropped. That was news!
'Are you sure?'
'Oh, I'm not sure of anything these days. You'd better ask Dorothy. Sorry, I've got to go soon, it's lunchtime and the shop is really busy.'
Together with her best friend, Sunita Patel, Miriam owned a tearoom Une Tasse de Bonheur.
'Sure. I just wanted to suggest we should change the locks ASAP.'
'I'll ring Ally. Can you check in with her later today? I'm taking Julian to the doctor this afternoon. Not looking forward to it,' she added.
'Will do,' Katie said 'What do you think of giving Sofia access to the polishing machine?' Katie asked carefully. She liked to give people another chance.
'I'm always happy to see members of the club succeed at arts and crafts things.' Miriam was back in her president's role. 'And while I might have indeed told her she could use the room as any other member can, I'm not happy with her just walking in without letting anyone know first.'
'I think she genuinely wants to work on her project,' Katie said. 'I do think, she should have gone about it differently. But maybe she had a bad day.'
'Well, I agree with you, we should change the locks. Whether she broke in or simply walked in because the locks were not good enough, means that someone else might have done the same thing before or after her. I hate the thought of people just walking in and out of our room.'
'I felt violated. It's as though nothing is safe anymore,' Katie said, her heart heavy. She thought about Jack's suspicions of the murderer using Wi-Fi in the community centre, but decided not to share it with Miriam, who had enough of her plate already.
'Okay, we'll change the locks,' Katie said. 'If Sophia asks to be given access to the machine, I'll go with her. If I can.'
Katie hung up feeling guilty about taking up so much of Miriam's time and attention. Miriam had been preoccupied with her husband's health lately. Julian's memory had been deteriorating and the recent events in the local parish council brought the extent of his difficulties to the surface. Sadly, Julian appeared to be in denial about his own health.
Katie put a reminder on her phone to ring Ally Baker after her final shift at Willow Park.
With the problem at least partially addressed, Katie dialled Dorothy's number.
'Katie, how good to hear from you, dear!' Dorothy said, warmly. 'Have you got access to your house yet?'
'Still not, hopefully before the end of the week, but speaking of houses, I have a question for you. Actually two.'
'Fire away.'
'What is Chiara's maiden's name?'
'Marino. Why?"
Katie paused. She hadn't bothered to think of a cover story. Again. She really needed to get better at interviewing people. Particularly, if she wanted to mine for information unofficially.
'It's linked to my second question and something I've just heard from Miriam.' She nearly gave herself a pat on the back. That was a good compromise between truth and lack of lie.
'And what did Miriam tell you?' There was a hint of irony in Dorothy's voice.
'Miriam said Chiara used to live in that old house behind Phyllis Dunbar and next to the workshop I've inherited.'
'That's right. Actually, if I remember well, the workshop used to belong to Chiara's father. Her mother sold it to William Dunbar after his death. Apparently, she had debts to pay off.'
The whole situation was getting even more complicated. But Katie was not surprised to find yet another connection to William Dunbar.
'So how come Chiara came to live next door to you?'
Dorothy gave a big sigh. 'It's complicated. Why don't you come and have a cup of tea, or even dinner with me tonight and we can talk?'
'That's a brilliant idea! I’d love to. Thank you.'
Katie disconnected, thinking about the conversation with Dorothy on her way to Willow Park. The Marino family used to own the house mentioned in the document on Michael’s phone. The second name on the document looked as though it started with an M. But what was the connection between Stanley and Michael? Why did Michael have the photo of the document on his phone? And how did the person who sent the photo to the police gain access to it?
The simplest explanation would be that Ash Stanley had taken a photo of the document on Michael's phone. Which would suggest that Ash Stanley and Michael had met. What for? To discuss the document? Or the house? Michael would have interest in the house, and the plot of land for sure. But it was the Marinos' house, why then talk to Stanley about it?
Speaking of the Marinos - what was their role in it? And what was the real reason why the two women moved to Sunnyvale, given all the bad memories Chiara had of the place?
The house behind the Dunbar's property–it was a ruin! Not worth anything, but probably knocking down and selling the land. Oh yes, given the location, the land would be worth a small fortune.
There was so much to consider: complex relationships, complicated situations, and so many unknowns. Katie's head began to ache. She needed to talk it through with Dorothy. Not the details regarding the murders, but people's secrets. Dorothy might be able to clear away some of the fog.
Dorothy was an interesting person and Katie was beginning to wonder how she’d never noticed it before. Dorothy had a real knack for saying things with deeper meaning. Katie needed to learn to listen better to people like Dorothy.
But it was time to go to work. Katie slowed down to pull in front of Willow Park Nursing Home. There was a free spot right at the end of the car park with a familiar looking, silver Vauxhall parked next to it. The very sensible car of a very sensible police officer, Katie thought as her heart flipped. She might be able to share her new discovery with him very soon.
But what was Jack doing here?
16
Katie walked into the building determined to find Jack and share her new discoveries with him.
She marched across the hallway, passing by a nurse calming an elderly female resident who was sitting at the nursing station, crying. Jack was nowhere in sight, and Katie headed towards the lounge area. She picked up spilled magazines from the floor and put them on a table on the way.
'Miss!' A young man waved at her from a nearby table, an elderly man in a wheelchair beside him. Katie, expecting something she couldn't solve, looked around the room, but the only nurse was still comforting the sobbing resident. Two more people in white overalls were at the oth
er end of the hallway near the residents' bedrooms, looked busy.
'Miss!' the man called again, a hint of urgency in his voice. 'I need help with my granddad. He wants to go to bed.' He pointed at the sleeping man.
Katie approached the young man. Maybe she could help a little. 'I'm just a cleaner but let me see if I can help.'
'Sorry to bother you. I would have taken him to his room, but I don't even know where it is.'
'I'll get some help,' Katie said and walked towards the two staff members at the far end of the hallway. They turned out to be two health care assistants with the bed linen trolley. She explained the situation in the lounge and offered help with bed making.
'You go, Kerrie,' one of the HCAs said. 'Are you a cleaner here? I'm Rosie.'
'Yes, I'm a temp. I'm Katie.' Katie grabbed a pair of rubber gloves the other woman handed her.
'Thanks for offering to help,' Rosie said. 'It's been a hell of a day, I tell you. There's some bad energy in the air. The nurses have been rushed off their feet with constant demands and the noise. A lot of people have had meltdowns today.'
'What's going on?' Katie asked trying to focus on the information as well as on the job she was helping with.
'Oh, there was this hoo-ha around one of the residents earlier on. Harold Bower. His son came in today fuming. The manager was involved. He wants to take his father out of the home. He's found a better place somewhere else.' The woman shook her head tutting.
Katie blinked. What is the continuation of the scene she'd seen the other day?
'Is Harold Bower moving out?' she asked.
Rosie curved her brow. 'Yeah, right. But the old man doesn't want to go.'
'Is he happy here?'
'I think so.'
The woman seemed well-informed of the recent gossip and didn't mind sharing. Katie pushed on, cautiously sharing her own observations. 'I saw Michael the other day, shouting and complaining about the quality of care for his father here,' Katie said.
'Michael has been complaining for the past couple of weeks. Bossing everybody around. He thinks he can get people to dance to his tune because he has money. The problem is'—Rosie paused and looked at Katie—'he doesn't. The old man still owns the company and Michael is just a manager. Michael hates it. He's trying to prove that Bower senior has lost his mind. But that's not what the doctor says. Catch this.' Rosie threw the other end of the bed sheet to Katie.
Katie caught it. 'What does the doctor say?'
'Oh, they use those fancy words - full mental capacity.' Rosie jerked her chin. 'Apparently, it means he hasn't lost it. And they have the papers to prove it. Everybody’s talking about it. Now, hold it tight, I'll pull.'
Rosie guided her through the bed sheet pulling and stretching, until it was done-crispy and smooth like glass.
Katie went through the moves, thinking about what Rosie had just said. If indeed, Michael believed his father had lost capacity to make decisions—unlike the doctor’s opinion—it was a problem. She could remember, from her family dealings with her grandma’s dementia, it was hard to challenge medical evidence.
'If you ask me, 'Rosie picked up her train of thought. 'I think the old man is alright. My father worked for him and now my Darren does. The old man remembers them all, he remembers my name. Harold is a good man, but stubborn. A good boss, too. He looks after his staff. I think he should retire, and just enjoy his life, but he likes being in charge. He likes having money. He likes making deals, sometimes a little on the dirty side, but he likes to win.'
'Is that why Michael wants him to retire?' Katie asked.
'There is a rumour that ever since the old Bower got sick, the company's not been doing that well. Oh, never mind.' Rosie paused abruptly, straightening her back and looking at the door. 'Now let's just throw that bedspread on. Give me a hand, Katie. I must say, you’re quite good at this.
Katie smiled. She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Rosie interrupted, 'The bed's changed, Mr Crabtree can come back in for a nap'—she rushed to open the door wider—'Just in time, Mr Crabtree. Your bed is ready for you.'
The second HCA pushed in a wheelchair containing an elderly man. The young man was standing behind them. Katie nodded to him and left the room. The info feast was over.
But was this information of any use to anyone? She'd better find Jack and check it with him.
She was in luck. Jack was standing in the middle of the reception area with his brown winter jacket neatly folded over his arm.
'Hello, Jack,' Katie said cheerfully. 'You look lost.'
'Hi, Katie,' Jack replied. Katie noticed a few fine lines on his forehead and a five o'clock shadow—unusual for him. 'What are you doing here?'
'I work here, but why are you here?'
'I've just seen the manager,' Jack explained, with the look of relief on his face. 'I wanted to talk to Harold Bower, but I can't find him. I don't seem to be able to find a nurse either.'
'They're having some sort of crisis today. But I know where Harold's bedroom is, it's the second one on the left, over there.' She pointed. 'Are you sure you have the official blessing to interview him?'
He glanced at her and his eyes shot little silvery-blue bullets of what Katie interpreted as hurt pride. 'Do you want to see the official paper?' he asked, giving her a cheeky smile.
'I didn't know you had an official paper,' Katie said, squinting her eyes. Had there been a dramatic change in the progress of the inquiry since she left the police station less than an hour ago?
He shot her another smile. 'It's just a conversation. But the manager knows about it.'
Katie was keen to share and crosscheck the information she'd just collected. 'Apparently, Harold Bower has capacity to make decisions and talk to whoever he wishes to, despite what Michael would have people believe,' she said watching Jack carefully.
'I see you have some inside information.'
'Actually, I do. I was hoping we could catch up.'
'What do you have for me?'
She checked her watch. Thanks to the recent developments she was constantly early at work. 'I have at least twenty minutes. It’s quiet, we can sit at the table if you have time.' Katie pointed to the lounge area.
'I’ll make time for you, Katie,' Jack said and followed her.
'Do you know about the Marinos?' Katie asked quietly when they were seated. Jack sat back in the chair, his arms on the table. Katie pulled her chair to the side, so she didn't have to look straight into his deep blue eyes. She wanted to keep this chat confidential but without another fight with a butterfly hatching cycle. He had given her a chance to talk, and she wanted to use it well.
Jack nodded. 'Heard a couple of things. What are you talking about?'
'They used to own the house on the document we saw on Michael's phone. One of the names on the document looks very much like Marino,' Katie continued, encouraged by his attentive gaze. 'Did you find out what it is?'
'I've done some digital cleaning and enhancing of the photo. Looks liked it's a transfer of land agreement. Between Harold Bower and Antonio Marino. Since there is no Antonio Marino living nearby, I came to talk to Harold about it.'
'I might know where you can find Antonio Marino,' Katie said, trying to sound not too boastful. She could still be half a step ahead of him. Not that it mattered, but she liked being useful.
'I'm all ears.' He lent over the table and flashed her a smile.
Katie pushed a thumb into her side, but it was too late. His musky smell hit her nose and a warm tingling spread in her chest.
Katie blinked. Focus!
'I don't know exactly where he is, but I know he committed suicide many years ago. Apparently, he was to go to prison over some dirty deals.'
Jack looked away stroking his chin. 'Did you hear anything about the nature of those dirty deals?'
'Sadly no. I can always ask around if you like.' She held her breath, hoping he would ask her.
'That would be nice,' Jack said.
Katie stif
led a "yippee!"
'So, was it Michael's phone or not?' she asked instead.
Jack grunted. 'Michael declined to answer any more questions. He's getting a lawyer. '
'Is that why you want to interview Harold?'
'Yes and no. I'll see how it goes.'
'I've heard that Michael has been pushing to have Harold moved to a different rehab facility,' Katie offered hesitantly. Would he take the bait and add more info?
Jack pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. 'I see you're well informed.'
'I see you're not keen on sharing the info you have,' she fired back, her heart pounding. 'Come on, Jack. A little bit of give and take wouldn't hurt...' she tried.
'It's a murder investigation, Katie,' he said with a hint of tone that made Katie sit back, alarmed.
'Even a double murder, inspector,' she snapped. She felt her cheeks burning again, but this time it had nothing to do with embarrassment. 'I'm only trying to help you. No need to be so condescending.'
'Whoa!' Jack's eyes opened wide. 'I-I... definitely it was not my intention to sound condescending. It's just that you're-'
'Not a police officer, right?' Katie snapped and jumped to her feet. 'I know, Inspector Heaton. I know my humble, clerk-cum-cleaner place very well.'
She stomped off. If she could, she would have thrown him a thunderbolt or two. But clicking of her sensible shoes heels would have to do.
She'd show the DI Big City Smarty-Pants what the humble clerk-cum-cleaner could achieve.
17
Badass mood. That's what she was in. A badass mood. She might have been a humble clerk-cum-cleaner, but she had a brain. And she wasn't afraid to use it. In fact, she was going to use her so-called weaknesses to her advantage.
Katie sneaked into the nearby cleaning bay and picked up a bucket, a mop, a few wipes, and most importantly–the big yellow "Cleaning in Progress" sign. Armed with her tools, she sneaked past Harold's room and knocked on the next one.