by Fiona Grace
She hurried down the hall after her English Shepherd. As she went, Lacey couldn’t help but notice all the awesome artwork on the walls, and the amazing architecture of Penrose Estate beneath. The house itself was something of an antique. She wondered about its history.
Just then, coming from somewhere in the distance, Lacey heard the sound of Chester barking. She’d never heard him bark in such a way. To her ears, it sounded insistent, like he was calling for her to come to him.
Lacey quickened her pace, racing toward the sound.
She whirled in through a door—recognizing it to be a library within a split second—before her gaze fell to a large lump of something on the floor. Lacey gasped and reeled backward.
There, sprawled on the floorboards, her skin pale, her lips rimmed with purple, her eyes open, glazed and unseeing, lay Iris Archer.
She was dead.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lacey stood outside the cottage shaking, her arms wrapped about her middle. Chester sat obediently and reassuringly at her feet, but she couldn’t get the image of the dead woman sprawled on her floor out of her mind. She was shaken to the core.
After what felt like forever, she finally saw the police cruiser crawling up the drive toward her. They parked and an officer stepped out. He was a portly man, and he moved slowly like he was in zero hurry at all, which seemed a bit odd to Lacey considering her panicked phone call explaining there was a dead body!
“Superintendent Karl Turner,” he announced, holding his hand for Lacey to shake.
She shook it, a little confused as to why they’d sent out someone as high ranking as a superintendent to a simple death scene, before deciding it must be a British thing, something to do with the fact the deceased was a wealthy aristocrat.
“This is DCI Beth Lewis,” he added, pointing toward a woman getting out of the vehicle. “You’re the one who called it in, correct?”
“Yes,” Lacey said, looking around for a vehicle that might be a hearse but seeing none.
“And you are?” the superintendent added.
“Lacey Bishop. I’m an antiques valuer,” Lacey explained, taking a business card out of her pocket and handing it to him as if it were a receipt for her claim. “I’d come over here to value some antiques.”
“In the morning?”
Lacey nodded. “Iris wanted us to talk over breakfast, which she said would be delivered at seven a.m. When I got here, the door was open. I assumed she’d left it unlocked for me, since our meeting was scheduled, but when I went in, I found her lying there…” Her voice cracked. “Dead.” Tears at the memory started to flood her eyes.
“Huh,” the superintendent grunted, his tone suggesting that everything Lacey had just told him was a fabrication.
She felt herself bristle. Sure, there was doing a job, and then there was just acting like an ass to someone who was clearly in a traumatized state. Maybe PC Plod saw dead bodies every day, but this was Lacey’s first—and last, she hoped—and so it was all rather shocking to her.
The superintendent turned to DCI Lewis. “You get details off Mrs. Bishop here—”
“Ms.,” Lacey corrected him, firmly. “I’m not married.”
Supt. Turner looked at her and grunted like he couldn’t care less, or like he wasn’t surprised Lacey was single. He turned back to his partner. “Get some details off Ms. Bishop while I take a look at the scene.”
He went off inside the house.
DCI Lewis looked at Lacey. She held herself with the same stoic stiffness as Supt. Turner, but there was an element of warmth to her, too.
“Bit of a shock, huh?” she asked Lacey in a kind manner. “Not what you want to see over breakfast.”
Lacey nodded, not really knowing what else to say.
DCI Lewis asked her some questions, jotting down information about how Lacey had first met Iris Archer, and how she’d come to be outside of her house on this particular morning. But then Lacey noticed Superintendent Turner waltzing out the front door and thundering toward them.
“Beth!” he barked to the officer in front of Lacey. “Get CSI on the scene. Stat. We’re dealing with a homicide here.”
Lacey gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Homicide? That meant Iris Archer had been murdered!
Oh, that poor woman! Lacey thought, her mind suddenly racing at a mile a minute. She must’ve been so scared.
While DCI Lewis began talking into the walkie-talkie at her shoulder, Lacey noticed Superintendent Turner watching her closely. His face was a blank mask, revealing nothing at all, but she’d seen enough detective shows in her time to know what he was thinking: she was his prime suspect. Before, she hadn’t even considered that Iris was the victim of foul play—the woman was elderly, she’d assumed her time had simply come—but now that Lacey knew she’d been murdered, she realized just how odd her presence there must look. Just how suspicious. She felt her heart leap in her chest as she realized that as the person to have called in the death, she’d put herself right in the frame.
She took a step back toward her vehicle, suddenly desperate to get out of there and hide under her duvet.
“Ms. Bishop?” she heard the superintendent call as she fumbled with her car keys in shaky hands.
“I’m going home,” Lacey stammered. “I’ve answered all your questions, so I’m free to go, aren’t I?”
“Of course,” Superintendent Turner said, his face remaining completely blank and unreadable. “I just wanted to ask you not to leave town. We’ll likely have a few more questions for you in the future.”
He’d said it plainly enough, but the subtext was obvious for Lacey. They’d have more questions for her once they’d gathered evidence. His words may have been said dispassionately, but they were very much a threat.
Lacey got in her car and sped away.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lacey couldn’t bring herself to return to the store that day. Luckily Gina was happy to take up the shift, after Lacey had told her she was feeling under the weather.
When evening rolled in, Lacey heard her neighbor knocking on the door to return the keys—and on getting no response, sticking them through the letterbox. Lacey felt guilty about not answering the door, but she just couldn’t face her. She was too rattled to face anyone. All she wanted to do was sleep that nightmare scenario away.
Sadly, sleep didn’t come easily. Even with Chester at the foot of the bed, keeping her toes warm, acting as guard dog, she couldn’t relax. She kept thinking about a murderer being out on the loose, and how terrified the old woman must have been in her final moments.
In the morning, she awoke feeling even more drained and exhausted than the day before. Two nights of poor quality sleep following so many long hours at the store left her feeling like a zombie. She’d just about managed to operate the coffee machine to make herself a steaming black Americano, when she heard her phone pinging with messages. She suddenly recalled how she’d deliriously tapped out a message on the Bishop Girlz thread about the murder, and instantly regretted it now that she realized it must be her family responding.
She checked her phone to see that Mom had sent her some supportive words of encouragement. Naomi, for once, hadn’t replied with sarcasm or derision, but the hugging person emoji. But it only made Lacey feel worse—if Naomi could see the gravity of the situation then it must be really bad!
She devoured a cereal bar while Chester munched down his doggy chow, then collected the store keys from the welcome mat where they’d fallen after being posted through the door by Gina.
When she opened her front door, Lacey discovered a casserole dish sitting on the step, wrapped in aluminum foil. An attached note, in Gina’s distinctive, scrawling handwriting, read: Homemade shepherd’s pie to help you feel better soon!
Touched by her neighbor’s sweet gesture, Lacey picked up the dish and looked inside. A layer of creamy mashed potatoes lay on top of a layer of what she assumed from the name of the dish was minced lamb in a tomato sauce.
Lacey carried the dish inside and put it in her fridge, then left Crag Cottage, Chester by her side, and drove to the store.
As she turned the key in the lock, she realized she was still shaking. Not as much as when she’d discovered Iris dead but there was an unmistakable tremor in her hand.
“Everything okay?” came the voice of Tom from behind her.
Lacey jumped a mile and spun around to face him. His friendly, suntanned face was a welcome sight for sore eyes.
“Yes. I’m fine. My mind was in the clouds.”
“I’m not surprised,” Tom commented. “I heard what happened. You must be shaken to the core.”
Lacey’s eyebrows shot up. “You heard? But how? It only happened yesterday morning.”
“Small town,” Tom said with a shrug. “News travels fast.”
Then, to Lacey’s surprise, he pulled her into an embrace.
Nothing had ever felt so right to Lacey as that moment, standing in Tom’s warm, strong, reassuring arms. The support she’d gotten from David had always felt stilted. Sometimes stifling. But with Tom it was as if she was being hugged for the first time since she’d been a child. It held the same comfort as her mother’s hug after falling down.
The whole experience was disarming, and Lacey felt herself sag a little from the expulsion of previously held in emotion.
“How are you doing?” Tom asked, as he released her. “Really.”
Lacey shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. It was a shock.”
“I bet it was.”
She opened the door, making the bell tinkle in a way that felt strangely incongruous to her now.
As the door swung open, Chester trotted right in, as he was becoming accustomed to do. Lacey went to follow after him and heard the store phone ringing. She hurried in and grabbed it.
“Murderer!” came a voice she didn’t recognize, before the call cut out.
Lacey slammed the phone down and staggered back.
Tom was immediately there, with his reassuring expression and kind voice. “What is it? What happened?”
“Someone called me a murderer,” Lacey stammered.
She noticed then the light blinking on the answering machine. The phone started to ring again.
“Don’t answer it,” Tom said, gently resting his hand on hers. He tugged the cord from the wall.
Lacey felt bewildered. “How does everyone know already? And why on earth are they blaming me?”
But she knew why. She was the outsider here. The new person in town. Everyone else knew each other, and if one of their own had been murdered then who else was there to point the finger of blame at?
Through the window, Lacey noticed people standing outside Tom’s locked store.
“You have customers,” she told him.
“I can stay here if you need me,” he said.
Lacey shook her head. “I’m fine. You can’t let your business suffer because of me.”
“I’ll call Paul to cover me,” Tom said, reaching for his pocket where the outline of his cell phone bulged through the fabric. “He’s my trainee.”
As touched as she was by the offer, Lacey really didn’t want Tom to go to any special trouble for her.
“Honestly,” she said, more firmly. “I’m okay. I have Chester for protection.”
At the mention of his name, the dog raised his head and let out his characteristic whining noise.
Tom withdrew his hand from his pocket, leaving the cell phone behind. “If you insist,” he said, relenting. “But why don’t we do dinner tonight…”
“Oh!” Lacey exclaimed, taken aback that he’d used the moment to suggest a date. Tom hadn’t seemed like the type to her.
Tom immediately looked flustered. “Sorry, no, what I meant was I could deliver some pastries to you after work.” He spoke very quickly as if in an attempt to clarify his earlier comment. “Because it’s so hard to keep on track with things when you’re emotionally bogged down. And because it might be hard for you to take your mind off things without some company to distract you.” He rubbed his neck, which was going pink. “Only now you obviously think I’m a creep who preys on vulnerability…” he added with a mumble.
His awkwardness made Lacey immediately relax. If Tom had the wherewithal to see how his offer might have been misconstrued, then he already had more emotional intelligence than half the men she knew. She’d been right to think Tom was one of the good guys.
“Pastries would be great,” she told him with a smile.
“Really?” he said, letting out a relieved sigh.
“Yes. But not tonight. My neighbor made me a shepherd’s pie. Besides, I don’t think I’d be particularly good company. Tomorrow?”
With the misinterpretation cleared up, Tom returned to his usual cheery self. “Sounds perfect.”
He hopped up and gave Lacey’s hand a squeeze.
The contact made her tingle all over. And with his hand lying gently over hers like that, the temptation to blurt out, “Actually, let’s make it an official date!” almost overwhelmed her. But somehow, she held her ground and stayed strong, as Tom gave her a final parting look of reassurance and exited through the door.
Lacey watched him cross the street, feeling like her breath had gotten stuck in her lungs, mulling over her reaction to his suggestion of dinner. It hadn’t been about feeling like her vulnerability was being exploited at all. It was something about the thought of getting close to Tom, of moving on from David.
With her gaze out the window, her mind sifting through the myriad of emotions her meeting with Tom had stirred in her, Lacey was interrupted by the sight of some people strolling down the cobblestones, whispering. They paused, one of them pointing at her store, then all hurried onward.
Lacey felt a pit of trepidation open up in her stomach. News of Iris’s murder was spreading like wildfire, and people seemed to think she had something to do with it! This wasn’t how she thought her life in Wilfordshire was going to go at all, and as the hours ticked by without a single person coming into the shop, Lacey felt worse and worse. Every time she peered through the window toward the patisserie, she saw Tom with his usual busy trade. Yet not a single person decided to venture into her store.
Her gaze went to the man sitting on the bench beside the red mailbox. Despite the cool, early spring temperature, he’d been there for at least an hour now, engrossed by his phone, earbuds in. Either he was totally addicted to his apps, or something more sinister was afoot. That’s when Lacey noticed something peculiar—he wasn’t wearing standard cell phone headphones. The earpiece was made of thin plastic that looped around his ear. The wire was thin, snaking in through the collar of his bomber jacket. It wasn’t even connected to the phone at all.
Lacey gasped as she realized she was looking at a plainclothes police officer.
Superintendent Turner was keeping tabs on her! If the police thought she might have something to do with killing Iris, what chance did she have with the locals?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Back at home, Lacey was just in the middle of heating up her shepherd’s pie in the microwave when she heard the sound of a dog barking coming from outside. Her immediate fear was that Chester had somehow gotten out of the house, and so she bolted for the front door. But as she pulled it open, revealing a clear evening sky blanketed by twinkling stars, she realized it was Boudicca who was barking. Coming up the path behind the Border Collie was Gina.
“Cooey! Lacey!” the woman called, waving an arm over her head in a big arch, as if Lacey were a mile away rather than a matter of feet.
Chester appeared by Lacey’s legs, sniffing the evening air and, presumably, the scent of another dog.
“Is everything okay, Gina?” Lacey asked.
Gina reached the porch step. She was panting
, as if she’d hurried here.
“I heard what happened,” she said, puffing her cheeks and grabbing the wooden post for support. “You should’ve come to me right away!”
“You mean about Iris Archer?” Lacey asked, her stomach swirling anew with that now familiar sense of apprehension. “Honestly, I didn’t realize it would be such hot gossip.” She slumped her shoulder against the doorjamb. “Besides, I didn’t want to burden you.”
“This is a small town,” Gina said. “New spreads fast. Especially when you have awful women like Taryn around, who like nothing more than to gossip and spread rumors!”
Lacey started. “Taryn?” she exclaimed. “What on earth has she got to do with it?”
Gina explained. “I overheard her in the Coach House telling Brenda the barmaid that you killed Iris and stole her antiques.”
Lacey felt her legs weaken—and suddenly, the doorjamb she’d wedged her shoulder against was the only thing keeping her from falling to the floor.
She knew Taryn hated her, but this was going way too far. This wasn’t just some loud music making her walls vibrate, or a purposefully disruptively placed sandwich board—this was someone actively trying to ruin her. To tarnish her reputation, which would in turn ruin her business, her livelihood, and ultimately the new life she was beginning to build for herself here.
“Why would she do that?” Lacey stammered, completely taken aback by the level of vitriol that must be required in order to behave in such a manner.
Gina tutted and shook her head. “Who knows what makes people tick. I’m an old lady and I still haven’t figured out the mystery of humankind.”
Lacey shook her head. This wasn’t okay. This was so far from okay. And she wouldn’t stand for it. For years she’d had David standing in the way of her true happiness, and Saskia, and even Naomi and her mom. Now it was time for her to do things her way. No one would stop her.
She looked up at Gina with resolution. “Come in. We’re having shepherd’s pie.”